Sonata (Harry Styles FanFiction)

15. You Speak French?

Madame Dupond had fussed over me all morning and no matter how many times I assured her that I was in fact fine she wouldn't have it.

"Renee, qu'est ce qui ne va pas?" (Renee, what's the matter?) she asked, soft brown eyes watching me carefully before settling down onto the piano bench beside me.

"Nothing, Madame, I promise, ça va." (I'm well)

"Renne, do not lie to me. You are usually so pleine de vie et..." (vibrant and...) she paused as if searching for the right word, "enjouée! Où est passée cette fille si joyeuse?" (vivacious! Where is my cheerful girl?) She brought her hands up to join mine along the keys, carefully sounding out a simplistic French lullaby that she had forced us all to memorize the first week of class my Freshman year. She nodded at me to join in on the hypnotically soothing melody. I let out a small tired laugh before moving my fingers along the keys to the accompaniment.

This woman didn't even have to try. She could just look at me and all of my walls I'd spent years building would come tumbling down. She knew me better than anyone I'd ever met, possibly even better than Caleb and Jas. I didn't have to pretend with her. She didn't ask prying questions or expect me to hold the entire world on my shoulders. She just had this sixth sense that let her know when I needed some time to myself to breathe and to escape from all of the shit that filled my life.

"She's here, she's just... frustrated, and horny, and pretty damn exhausted." A light tinkering laugh filled the studio.

"There she is! Now, racontes." (explain)

"Have you ever been so drawn to someone that it physically hurts? Just being around them causes you pain because you're either too scared or too damn stubborn to do anything about it?"

"There was a time, ma chère, where I was much like yourself. You may not believe it seeing me now, but I was a very different person then than I am today. I was belle et jeune (beautiful and young). I could have the world, all I had to do was ask."

"I can see it," I laughed, branching off into an accompaniment that I had composed specifically for the lullaby. I'd been so inspired by the soft dream-like quality that I wanted to age it and rough it up around the edges. Madame Dupond's eyes widened at the new keys and the darker undertones they created, but a genuine smile pulled at her rose petal lips, her eyes crinkling elegantly around the corners. She was beautiful in a timeless sense, embracing all of the regal features that even Marie Antoinette would envy.

"I'm sure you were a real croqueuse d'hommes," (man-eater) I teased, enjoying the music filled atmosphere for the first time in weeks. She had to be magic, there was no other explanation.

"Well, I certainly enjoyed myself."

"Madame!"

"Don't play coy with me, Renee. On se ressemble beaucoup, toi et moi (We are very much alike, you and I). But, that was not my point. I did not come here to talk about my indiscretions. If this boy, it is a boy yes? I will not look at you any differently if it is not, ma chère."

"Oh bon sang! Non, mon Dieu non! C'est un garçon." (Oh goodness! No, my god no! It's a boy)

"Good, I am not well equipped with how to deal with those... urges," she shook her head and smiled, pink tinging her cheeks, "If this boy does not realize what is in front of him he will miss out on a truly amazing gift to the world."

"He's so infuriating, though! La moitié du temps j'ai envie de l'étrangler et l'autre moitié j'ai juste envie de lui arracher ses vêtements et l'attacher à mon lit!" (Half the time I want to strangle him and the other half I want to strip him naked and tie him to my bed!)