So here I am on a cold day doing what is best to do on a wet winter day like this. I am curled up in front of the fire with a hot cup of cocoa and a book. Harry succeeded in moving me to Canada, and I decided I was going to learn French. Yes, I know it's not really used in the western provinces. I'm athletic, not stupid!
I thought it would be an easy thing to do to show how committed I am to being with Harry. Of course, after wracking my brain for hours with this Berlitz travel book, I feel exactly that--like I should be committed. I don't know how I will ever learn this. In my frustration, I pretend the book is a quaffle and throw it across the room... right into Harry's face. Uh-oh. This isn't going to be pretty.
Harry bends to retrieve the offending book as if it were a normal every day occurrence to have books pelting his head. Well, sometimes it is, but I've been working on that.
"Berlitz European Phrase Book..." he enunciates as he sits beside me. "Are you having trouble with the French?"
Why yes, Captain Obvious, I guess I am.
"You don't have to do this, you know," he says as he supportively squeezes my hand.
I pick at the comforter wrapped around me and say lamely, "But I said I would do it." I have never been a quitter, so this is irksome.
Harry smiles encouragingly. "You just need to play to your strengths. Let's make a game of it."
Now he has my attention.
"I will quiz you, and with every right answer you get, I will give you something French."
Lovely. It will probably be a baguette.
"My name is Alicia," he prompts.
"Je m'appelle Alicia."
"Bon!" His eyes glitter with approval and he leans in to give me two chaste kisses, one on each cheek.
"I come from Great Britain."
"Je vien de Grande-Bretagne."
Again he gives two quick kisses on the cheek.
"And next, 'I'm with my husband.' That one is very important."
So far, so good. I know this one, too. "Je suis avec mon mari."
This time he kisses me once on the lips very quickly. He pulls back and winks while I remain the picture of calm.
"Now let's try something more difficult." He thumbs through the book to find just the right phrase. "I'd like a room with a double bed."
As sexy as that idea sounds, Harry just passed all my French ability. I've been shot down before I could get to any really interesting kissing.
"I don't know." I admit in defeat.
"Je voudrais une chambre avec un grand lit." He says it so automatically that I know something is afoot.
"And just how do you know French, Harry?" I cross my arms and wait for an explanation that had better be good.
He hedges and blushes. "Well, we did have those Beauxbatons students when I was in fourth year..."
"It was the Delacour sisters, wasn't it?" I narrow my eyes in challenge.
"No!" he croaks like a squished toad.
"Do you have anything else to tell me?" Now I am drumming my fingers on my arm in menace.
"I love you? Je t'aime!" Harry really looks like he's sweating now.
"Prove it. I want something very French." I beckon to him with my index finger.
He swallows nervously and then tentatively tries to give me a proper kiss. I keep on kissing him until the kiss stops being timid and really gets some passion into it. Now this kind of French I can do any time, any where.
After a few moments of that, I stop and whisper, "Harry?"
He looks like he's in a daze and adjusts his glasses.
"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?" I can't say this properly without a huge flirty smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye.
"Alicia! How do you...?" he stammers.
"You can thank Patti LaBelle for that. So?"
So he does, and I do. We both do many times. At the end he whispers something French and unexpected.
"Merci, j'ai passé une merveilleusse soirée."
I hold him close and laugh in contentment. That expression of soul-deep satisfaction I would understand in any language.