Hey, peoples! New story, to keep me occupied during my Star Trek muse's absence. I own no characters whatsoever, but the story is mine. I know Belle/Quasi stories have been done before, but i couldn't help it :) They're just so good for each other! Oh, and this story is set before the movie.

Please R/R.

It was dusk when the girls arrived on the steps of Notre Dame. The bells had just finished chiming Mass, and the oldest girl put a finger to her lips and motioned for the others to go inside.

They stood at the back, watching over the heads of Parisians in their pews. The candlelight reflected on the faces of each of them.

The oldest was a tall, pretty blonde in a humble brown dress with blue sleeves and a white apron. She wore her shoulder-length hair down, and she was wearing a dark cloak and carrying a bag. In fact, all of them had cloaks and bags, but that was where the similarities ended.

The second oldest was also a blonde, but she wore her hair cascading down her back, where it curled at the bottom. She wore a grey dress with a simple black corset, but carried herself like a queen. The girl next to her was slightly plain in comparison. She was an unremarkable brunette, with her hair tied back in a low ponytail with a blue ribbon. She was dressed humbly in a blue dress with white sleeves and a white apron, like the first girl. Perhaps her best feature was her deep brown eyes, which sparkled in the flickering light.

The next girl was entirely different from the first three. She was short in stature and had a swarthy complexion, with long black hair tied down her back in several places. She was almost entirely wrapped up in her cloak, so her outfit wasn't visible except for a glimpse of teal material at the bottom.

The girl beside her was different again. She was also short, but she was pale and had a head full of long, vibrant red hair. She was dressed in a white blouse, light blue skirt and dark blue corset, and her sea-blue eyes had a far-away look in them.

The last girl was the youngest in the group. She had black hair curling under her ears, and her skin was snowy white. Her dress was multicolored, with a yellow skirt, blue bodice and sleeves, red details on the sleeves and a high white collar, and her young, plump face shone with merriment.

The group listened quietly to Mass, but soon they were interrupted by a bald man in white robes.

"Good evening, mademoiselles. I am the Archdeacon. I don't believe I have ever seen you before. Are you new to Paris?" he whispered.

The oldest girl smiled. "Yes, we are. My name is Cindy, and this is Aurora," pointing to the other blonde, "and Belle," pointing to the brunette, "and Jasmine, and Ariel, and Snow," pointing to the others in turn. "We've come to Paris for Le Jour d'Amore."

"But that is still two months away."

"We wanted a long holiday. Our husbands will join us in time for the festival," she glanced quickly at Belle, who pretended to ignore her. "But we have nowhere to stay at the moment. We were hoping to seek lodging here."

"Here?" The man rubbed his chin, troubled. "There is plenty of room in the bell tower, but we do not have enough beds for all of you..."

"Oh, that's no trouble," said Ariel, smiling. "We brought our own little mattresses."

"Ah, good. Now..." The man stopped and frowned at something the priest said. "Can you girls sing?" he asked abruptly.

"Oh, yes!" Snow exclaimed, "We all love to sing!"

"Can you read Latin?"

"Well, yes..." Cindy paused. "Belle taught us to. She's the only one who can read it fluently."

"Good, good... er, would you mind stepping in for the choir? They're late- very late. Mass is going to end soon, and we need someone..."

Cindy looked around at the other, who all nodded. "Yes, we'd be happy to."

No-one had noticed the shape in the shadows, watching all that went on at Mass. It shifted position as the choir began to sing, but stopped short. That wasn't the choir! He leaned forward, trying to get a better view. There they were. It was a group of girls, covered by cloaks with different coloured skirts peeking out the bottom, and a few of them looked foreign. If they weren't so pretty and clean, they could have been gypsies.

One voice rose above the rest, rooting him to the spot with its beauty. He almost gasped. Never had he heard the Latin hymns sung in such a way.

As dusk passed into twilight, the moon came out. It threw its beams through the stained glass window, lighting up the cathedral. One beam came to rest on one of the girls; it was she who had that heavenly voice. This time he did gasp. The moon made her brown hair shine and highlighted her profile, encasing her in moonlight as she sung, her voice rising higher and higher. He was transfixed; he was enchanted.

The hymn ended and the girls stepped away, cruelly breaking the spell. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and drew back further into the shadows as people started to leave the church.