Disclaimer: I disclaim! J. K. Rowling owns all.
A/N: Just a one-shot, I think. I have a second part written, but I'm not too happy about it. I will try to do Fleur's accent, but I won't do it when she's speaking to anyone French, as it will be like a translation: she's speaking in French. Oh and there's some smut, nothing too graphic, yet, you've been warned! :)
"Eet is a bit late to be out 'ere, non?" she asked, walking closer to the boy. He was no boy, she corrected herself as she neared him; he was a young man; tall, with golden-brown that shone silver in the full moon, with light amber eyes. His shoulders were broad: like someone who spend too much time gripping a broomstick. He turned to face her slowly and smiled politely.
"This place is much more beautiful at night." he explained, straightening as she slid to his side, their shoulders touching. She smiled, glad it was dark. She thought he didn't look anything near nervous, merely uncomfortable, while she was a pile of nerves, blushing and with her hands pinned to her sides, trying to relieve the tension.
She couldn't recall seeing a man as beautiful as this, nor one who didn't surrender at her Veela genes, and that intrigued more than his astounding good looks. He was a challenge and she appreciated it.
"Yes, trés magnificent, isn't eet? 'ave you made a weesh, yet?" turning to face him, she motioned with her chin to the fountain a few feet away from them, her glistening blue eyes seemed to have lit up with a childish form of excitement. His set-in-place kind smile was warmer and he shook his head.
"I have been meaning to, but I always forget. I will, now." he told her, reaching for two bronze coins from his pocket. "You can make one, too." Again, she was feeling lightheaded, and she had no idea why. Maybe it was because he was being genuinely nice, and not just bragging about his 'feats' like other men did, it was a novelty.
"Thank you." she tanked as she took the coin in her hand and closed her eyes, directing all her energy to the wish. She would wish the same she always did, the one thing she knew she would want, all her life.
Je désire un amour plus fort, pour toujours.
She opened her eyes, threw the coin in the calm water of the fountain and looked up to the young man's face, to find his eyes closed like hers had been. He opened them slowly and repeated her movements, creating little circles of disturbance from where the coin had fallen in the water.
"What did you wish for?" he asked, in a 'tell me yours, I'll tell you mine' tone. She grinned at him, revealing each of her perfectly white and square teeth, finally breaking through his courteous mask: he took half a step back and held the edge of the spring of water for support.
"Eef I tell you, eet won't come true!" she whispered ominously, blinking her eyes in a way Cedric though ought to be forbidden.
"Cedric Diggory." he said, stretching his hand at her and blushing, he felt like an utter git for not introducing himself earlier.
"Fleur Delacour." she answered, in an accent so thick he was afraid he would never be able to pronounce her name properly. She held his hand firmly, not wanting to let go. A stranger, in a beautiful place, on the most beautiful night she'd seen since she arrived. Well, she wouldn't mind at all to leave her sister sleeping alone, that night.
Many of the girls at Beauxbatons said they wished to be as experienced as Fleur, but she wasn't all that. The only boy she'd ever been with had been Jean-Paul, top of the class in Divination, and it had been a pitiful experience. At first, when it had happened, she thought it hadn't been terrible, but the more she talked to other people, telling her just how beautiful and good sex was, the more she realized Jean-Paul hadn't been all that brilliant. In fact, Jean-Paul had been awful.
But Cedric was a British gentleman, not a French failure. And she was sure he couldn't be a virgin, he was much too beautiful to be left untouched; she wondered how many girls had already thrown themselves at his feet. She focused on his eyes, seeing resolution forming.
He crashed their lips together and held her by the waist, pulling her toward his room, only letting go of her when they left the garden.
They ran up the stairs to the third floor and eagerly made their way to the small but comfortable bed. As soon as they fell on it, Cedric on top of her, she could tell the sensations were different. She didn't want it to end; she liked the way his hands felt, large and warm, holding hers over their heads.
Nervously, more than she had ever been in her whole life, she caressed his back, removing his shirt in the process. His skin was smooth and glinting with sweat and she felt the goosebumps as her hands roamed his torso.
His breathing was ragged and his hair, usually kept in a clean-cut hairstyle, was messy and tousled. Fleur decided she liked that version of him better; less of a good-boy. She smiled up at him, shyly and took off her dress, gasping at the feel of his skin on hers.
They took the remaining pieces of clothing slowly, enjoying the little time they would have together. She couldn't help but revel in his perfection. She smiled an assentment when he asked if she wanted to proceed.
At first, she was surprised at the amount of him she could feel, their bodies pressed together was a memory she didn't want to let go of, ever. She struggled to keep her eyes open, to watch his face, the muscles on his arms and chest.
He captured her hands again, trembling, and placed each of them next to their tangled bodies, holding them tenderly. The warmness in Fleur's stomach was nearly overwhelming; she had never experienced such a feeling before and she drowned in it, kissing Cedric fiercely. Cedric stifled the scream she almost let out with a kiss.
Fleur felt awkward, not knowing if she was supposed to stay or to leave, she got up, gathering her clothes.
"No, stay." he whispered, patting the bed next to him. She blushed as she settled down, although his body next to her made it easier to fall asleep. She closed her eyes and snuggled closer to Cedric, knowing she would never see him again. She was, at the same time, sad and thankful. Sad because she did like him and thankful because she wouldn't know how to act after this.
He was already asleep next to her, his arm over her waist loosely and his breathing even and deep. She forbade herself to be distracted, she needed to sleep and get back to her room before Maman and Papa woke up.
*
It wasn't until she was back at home, in Beauvais, a city about 40 miles from Paris, locked inside her low-ceilinged bedroom that Fleur realized the intimacy of that morning. Cedric had been awake when the sun rose, the first beams of the morning against her skin woke her gently, and he looked at her, slightly dazed. She had smiled and pecked him on the lips, unsure of what to say, gotten dressed, cursing with every passing second. She was dreading the good-bye; what do you say to a stranger you happened to sleep with?
"Au revoir, Cedric." she had said, not resisting kissing him again, turning her back on him and hurrying to the hotel room she shared with Gabrielle. He called after her, but she didn't dare looking back, she knew she would run back to him, if she did.
She changed into her pajamas in a haste, sliding to her bed and closing her eyes, putting a show in case Maman decided to come to wake them up. As soon as Gabrielle woke up it would be safe for her to rise, too.
"Where were you?" Gabrielle whispered in her quick French. Fleur cursed. Her sister always knew everything.
"What do you mean?" acting like she didn't know what her sister was talking about wouldn't be helpful, but she wasn't very coherent that morning. Gabrielle snorted and got up, sitting on her sister's bed.
"You must think I'm stupid; I know you didn't sleep here. Where did you sleep?" Gabrielle spoke slowly, as if to someone lacking mental ability. Fleur sat up.
"No, Gabrielle. I'm not going to tell you. But, please, promise you won't tell Maman and Papa. Please?"
Gabrielle nodded, knowing she didn't have an option. Her sister was her best friend; it was her duty to protect Fleur's secrets, whether she knew them or no.
There was a quick tap on the door and both of them rose, letting their mother in. She already chattered, saying what they should wear and ordering them to hurry. Fleur was nervous about going down to breakfast; he would be there and she wouldn't know what to do. Should she wave? Go and talk to him? Nothing seemed good enough.
She took a deep breath and grasped her sister's hand tighter on her own as the Delacour women entered the room, their father was already there, sitting a few tables down from the Diggorys, she noticed. She waved at her Dad and headed to the buffet, Gabrielle trailing after her dutifully. Fleur smiled as she thought that next year petite Gabrielle would be alone at Beauxbatons.
"Fleur? That boy is looking at you. He's quite a beau." Gabrielle whispered, blushing a rose-y pink. Fleur shook her hair impatiently, she couldn't care less if he thought she was pretty, unless...
She turned around to meet Cedric's eyes, staring straight at her, she smiled faintly, not knowing what else to do. Her heart jolted when he waled to meet her. He got in line, standing behind Gabrielle.
"I'll write to you." he promised, as he reached for a croissant. She grinned, again, and touched his hand lightly. Gabrielle noticed, and widened her eyes in admiration.
Now that two weeks had passed since she'd gotten back, she was content with saving him in her memory, her little secret with herself, and no one would ever know but the two of them.
She didn't even mind that he hadn't written to her, that night was better left untouched: the best of her life.
A/N: There it is! Feel free to PM me if you have doubts or anything to say, really :) Hope you liked it!