[paris] i know you, i walked with you once upon a dream [maddie]

Johnny Jacobs hadn't been in Paris in a while - the last time he'd recalled being in the French city was eons ago when he'd first gotten out of school. He thought it was rather picturesque though - there were a lot of small shops and it overall looked very... romantic. If Johnny had to associate a color with the city, it would for sure be pink.

Pink was very fitting of the woman he was to meet. One miss Madeline Fletcher would be Johnny's date for lunch on this fine day, a witch the man had not sen in a while. He recalled a time when he'd first met the blonde - Johnny was quite mesmerized by the curl of her hair and the shininess of her cheeks. He wanted to get to know her better and potentially try to court her, although she'd unfortunately just gone through a break-up whenever he'd met her. They'd grown apart, as friends do, although it didn't stop him from sending an owl her way and asking if she might want to meet him for a bit of coffee one day. Luckily for the twenty three year old, she'd agreed, and he ended up in Paris.

Johnny let Maddie pick the place, as he didn't really know anywhere in Paris at all. He knew about a bar that was hidden near the big triangle looking tower that the tourists gathered around, but that was about it. Nothing else really seemed to catch his fancy when he was half drunk and looking for a place to get another shot of whiskey, although he supposed Paris was somewhere that you had to appreciate sober.

The pair were meeting at an adorable cafe on the corner of some street and another, and Johnny was early. He supposed this was the first time in a while that he was early, but for some reason, this time, he didn't feel odd about it. He adjusted his shorts before sitting down at an outside table, hoping that the blonde would show up soon. Not too soon though, or he wouldn't have time to think about what he wanted to say. How was he supposed to greet her? Was he supposed to stand up and give her a hug or was he supposed to give her a kiss on the cheek - was he just supposed to sit and say hello? It'd been too long since he'd seen Madeline and he wasn't really sure where she was standing in her life. He didn't want to step on any toes.

Was he nervous? There was no way he was actually nervous. Johnny hadn't actually known her that long, really. There was no reason for him to fear anything.

A familiar English accent in a world of French made him snap out of his thoughts and rise from his seat, looking at the blonde that had changed so little and so much in the time since he'd seen her. "Miss Fletcher," He greeted, reaching out for a hug and kissing her on the cheek once. If she thought it was weird, he could always excuse it as some American tradition (even though he knew first hand that it wasn't - Americans didn't seem to like touching each other if it wasn't sexual). "It's been a while. I haven't ordered yet, I figured we could order together because I can't speak French and I don't know what anything says."

Yay!

It was a warm October afternoon in the French capital. Summer always tended to come late to the Continent. It was a far cry from her leafy Oxford suburban home that she'd grown up in. If she were there now, she'd be wearing three jumpers and a pair of Wellington boots, shivering in the rain. It was a clear and sunny day, traffic trundling along beside her as her long legs strode down the rabbit warren of worn cobble stoned streets.

Tourist season was coming to an end, meaning it was just the usual Parisian folk who were meandering about. Give it a few months and the Christmas rush would hit the city with such force. With it in easy reach from English folk, many flocked to the city to pick up some fancy gifts. Last year to keep up with the demand for something quintessentially French, Madeline was making five hundred macarons per day. It was exhausting and she often felt like crying but she was living her dream. Oh sure. Her apartment was dinky and the plumbing was old and temperamental but she was running a kitchen and having an absolute ball.

The letter from Jonny had filled her with joy. She liked him. She honestly did. Not only was he handsome, he was hysterically funny. She didn't know how long he was spending in the city but her apartment did have two rooms and he was welcome to have the spare bed. The price of hotels were outrageous. He'd pay a fortune to stay in a dirty little bedsit. If he wanted to, her apartment wasn't far from the Eiffel Tower. It was situated in Montmatre; the artists' quarter. On a higgledy-piggedly street on the top floor without a working elevator, it was a haven. Around her were ancient buildings, artful graffiti, delis, coffee shops, artists selling their wares, street performers, everything.

Madeline also found herself dressing considerably more French, like the city was somehow conditioning her. Gone were the beaten up sneakers and ripped jeans and tee shirts and in their place was a well tailored, heel wearing, red lipped young woman. She was still the same girl that he knew, though. She still thought fart joked were funny and her hair was still a wild tangle of blonde curls.

The fact that Jonny had let her pick the spot was a daunting task. There were so many amazing restaurants, both sides of the Seine. She'd originally thought of going to Jules Verne, the restaurant inside of the Eiffel Tower. But it was way too fancy and had the undertones of a romantic date attached. Not to mention it was outrageously priced for food she didn't even like. Who wanted to eat pigeon, anyway? Yuck.

In the end, she'd plumped for a café near the opera house. It was usually busy during the summer but as October had arrived, she imagined they'd be able to sit outside. It was beautiful, it was decadent, it was glorious. Sat outside, one could see Paris life just drift by. It showed, at least she thought, some of the best architecture. It was a prime location. Paris was her home from home now so she wanted to show it off in the best light possible. This café was exceptionally pretty at night. The lights were soft, casting the marble and sandstone into an ethereal light, the street lamps picking up the hints of gold in the gilded chairs. It really was something else.

Turning the corner, it didn't take long for honey coloured eyes to pick out Johnny. He stuck out like a sore thumb but in the most delightful way possible. He was considerably taller than his French counterparts. Her pretty face lit up in a dimpled smile as she set out in a jog towards him.

"Johnny!" Madeline called, scattering pigeons in her wake as she ran at him, flinging her arms around his neck and squeezing him warmly. She reciprocated his kiss with another on his other cheek, in the traditional Continental manner. Stepping back, she offered him another sparkling grin, him already making her laugh. Swiftly, she dropped into her seat, smoothing a hand over her silken curls. He was still a good looking boy. They'd met each other at the wrong time. Had she not had her heart ripped out of her chest and stomped on by her dick of an ex-boyfriend, she'd have been very proud to be called his girlfriend.

"C'est pas vrai!" Maddie gasped, amber coloured eyes wide before she laughed again, handing him a menu. "No problem," she soothed Johnny quickly. "Consider me your unofficial tour guide. I'll take care of you. I promise I won't let you order frog's legs."

He looked very out of place. Johnny obviously didn't belong with his pink shorts - everything in Paris was so high fashioned. Maddie had even changed her look a bit; next to her, the English boy looked like some Californian idiot who rode his bike everywhere cause he'd crashed his car one too many times. Maybe he was one of those boys when he'd lived in America, but it didn't really matter anymore. They'd only had his name and no way of tracking him down, especially since he'd moved back to the wizarding portion of London.

"So - did Paris teach you to run in heels?" He asked her, looking at the well fitting strappy black things that she wore on her feet. "I've always wanted to learn how to do that but I've never been able to find any heels that compliment the shape of my torso." Johnny joked. "They usually just make me look a little chunkier than usual - it makes me feel like I have to work out more to shed those extra pounds." Johnny rest his hand on his well-toned stomach, smiling at the thought of himself being even slightly overweight. Jonathan also knew for a fact that he could never, ever wear heels. He had to commend any woman that he saw do it, because the one time he'd tried it his fifth year had made his feet more sore than anything.

Johnny looked almost surprised when Maddie spoke quickly in French, bearing a grin as he told her, "I don't know what that means! I don't know what any of that means!" He said. "Aren't languages so cool though? Like I speak Yoruba and I bet if I said something to you in that you'd have no idea what that means, and it'd just sound like I was making noises at you. Aro re so mi literally just sounds like something a kid would say when they wanna play games. Like you don't say that stuff seriously! You say that stuff when you wanna pretend to speak a foreign language. Say pah v-way sounds way fancier. It sounds like you're ordering snails. Which don't sound good but if you told me to eat them in French I couldn't say no. I think the French language takes away all of my willpower. I don't even have any but that's not what counts."

The twenty three year old was probably talking way too much, but that didn't stop him from continuing to speak. "Have you had frog's legs before? Like are they good? I feel like it's one of those things that could potentially taste like chicken. Which is weird - chicken doesn't taste like anything at all. And in America they didn't know how to season chicken either. Nobody knows how to cook it right. Maybe one day I'll bring my mom's chicken to you. She cooks a mean peppered chicken."

Johnny figured that he should probably stop talking before he said something stupid, so he closed his mouth before opening it right up again. "What kinda food do they have here? It has to be better than English food, cause all the best chefs come out of here right?" He asked. "They got pastries here right? I haven't had a real French pastry ever."

"No," Maddie said with a grin. "My mum did. She thought it was an important skill that every young woman should learn," she replied with a wise nod. "It's actually come in handy, to be honest. French men are very amorous," she said with a frown. "The attention is great. They're very romantic and serious and stuff but sometimes, you just need to climb out of the  restaurant's bathroom window to escape." That much was true. Not long after she'd moved in her new apartment, she'd met Armande.

He was tall and slim, handsome in that tortured musician type of way she liked. He was chain smoking cigarettes and wearing a battered old leather jacket and when he'd asked for her name, she just about melted. They went out a few times. Picnics by the Seine, drinking cheap wine on a boat cruise, wandering around the old churches. It was going swimmingly until she realised he was a bit…clingy. He called several times per day. He stopped by when she was at work, convinced she was lying about her whereabouts. It all got a bit too much. He said he'd written a book of poems about her and that was when she head to leave.

She'd forgotten that Johnny was hilarious. Unable to help herself, she laughed, high and melodious. "Oh you're the worst," she chided him with a roll of her eyes swiftly. Maddie's gaze lingered where he'd drawn her attention, to his torso and she chewed on her lower lip absently. "You work in a bakery. Why aren't you fat?" She asked with a frown, thinking back to her time at a bakery in Hogsmeade. She was able to take home cakes after work. Here in Paris, you weren't allowed to so at least she hadn't ballooned outwards again.

"I called you a liar," Maddie said with a smile as she looked down at her menu, flipping it over in her hands. She shrugged. "It's just easier here. If I spoke English, I'd get ignored. Or laughed at. But they are cool," she agreed. For some reason, anyone who spoke multiple languages were infinitely sexier to here.

As Johnny spoke, she blinked. Her pretty face twisted into a focused expression as she listened to his rapid fire words, trying to decipher what she imagined might be his mother tongue. "What did you say?" She asked, tilting her head curiously. She had no idea but she liked how it sounded and how his lips looked as they formed the words. "You better have called me a beautiful fairy princess or something," she said with a smile. She listened intently, grinning like a loon on loon tablets. He just seemed so…animated. It was very refreshing. All the people here were too gloomy, too busy. It made her realise how much she'd missed him.

"They do sort of taste like chicken," she agreed, nodding. "They feel like chicken wings, almost?" She frowned. "I didn't like them. I think it's a bit strange. They didn't taste of much. It sort of felt like cutting through bacon fat," pausing, she pulled a face. "There are way better things to eat when you're here, though," she was quick to say, her pretty face lighting up. Food was her favourite thing to talk about. "The bread's amazing. It's not like back home. It's made fresh every day on the premises. It's so good," she said, sounding dream-like as her eyes gazed over. She bloody loved carbs.

"I'd like that," she said brightly. Johnny had mentioned his family briefly in passing but she'd rather like to meet his mother.

"All sorts!" Maddie said, clapping her hands together. "It involves a lot of cheese, wine and cream which is like my Holy Trinity so I'm not at all complaining. It's very fancy but made from simple ingredients. Honestly? I think it's just magic," she said with a faint blush. "It's very modern but there are some people here who hold fast to the older styles of cooking. If you go into the country, it's very rustic but the soup is amazing. The best ingredients are in the countryside. English food does look a bit dull and drab in comparison but gosh, I do miss pie and mash." That was the only pang of homesickness she ever got. It was always food related.

"Yeah!" Maddie exclaimed, leaning over the table towards him a little to explain the things on the menu. "Last time I was here, I ate so much, I threw up in a bin." The tall blonde paused. Frowning, she shook her head. "Forget I said that," she added briskly.

"I'll order some if that's cool?" She asked, anxious. "I'd suggest religieuse," she said with a nod of her head. "It means "nun" in French. It's meant to look like some sort of Muggle religion thing. I dunno. I've never met a nun," she said with a shrug. "It's like an éclair? But fancy. It's two choux buns, stuffed with sweet cream and stacked and then covered with chocolate sauce. It's amazing. I'm convinced it's better than sex," just then, a waiter appeared.

"Bonjour," Maddie said brightly. She then proceeded to order two coffee, some water and two of the pastries. If Jonny wanted something else, that was fine. She'd head inside and order something else. She hated to be presumptive. It wasn't nice. "But hey," she said gently. "How are you?" Madeline asked with a smile, blowing a blonde curl out of her face absently. "How is everyone at the bakery?" She wasn't mad that Johnny had gotten the job they'd both applied for. She knew he was better suited there than she'd ever be. "I missed you."