Ginny/Fleur, PG-13
Ginny Weasley loved everything about Fleur Delacour. Of course, most people loved Fleur. But those people didn't know her quite like Ginny did. And Ginny loved that.
She loved the way that Fleur walked, her heels clicking down some Paris boulevard with confidence and purpose as though nothing in the world were important enough to deter her from her path. The way that even the relentless breeze didn't dare tousle her hair or ruffle her skirt, even on the windiest of days. The way that high-fashion princesses and simple commoners alike would turn their heads to get a second glance, and every man and boy would stop dead in his tracks to behold the sight of her. The way that none of them, not even the most handsome or the most gorgeous got so much as a passing glance back. None except for Ginny, of course. And Ginny loved that.
She loved the way that Fleur talked, using so much flourish and expression in her speech while still managing to display not a single ounce of emotion unless it was something that she was truly passionate about. The way that her accent made everything seem ten thousand times more important than it actually was, even if it was something as simple as "hello". The way that everyone listened when she spoke, and did everything in their power (and everyone else's) to make what she wanted happen. The way that almost no one got to speak to her on a personal level, with all pretenses and all display dropped. Almost no one except for Ginny, of course. And Ginny loved that.
She loved the way that Fleur was, so bold and unashamed no matter what the circumstances. The way that everything just was to her, and nothing was more than it seemed. The way that she would say or do anything just because she felt like it, and it didn't actually matter what anyone else though. The way that she would run head on into any situation and take charge whenever she needed to (and often times when she didn't). The way that no other person in the world got to see her as just herself, minus the defenses and the brazen attitude. No other person except for Ginny, of course. And Ginny loved that.
Ginny Weasley loved all of these things, and some things even more. But there were things, other things that Ginny loved about Fleur. Things that no one else got to know. Because no one else knew Fleur quite the way that Ginny did. And Ginny loved that.
She loved the way that Fleur would smile whenever she'd catch her eye. The way that more words would pass between them in those few seconds than could ever be conveyed by mouth. The way that Fleur's lips would immediately find hers as soon as they got behind closed doors. The way that their kisses were never gentle and never rough, and the way that each one was completely different from the next. The way that she would moan softly when Ginny would kiss just the right places, because even Fleur Delacour had weaknesses. The way that her skin would slide against Ginny's and the way that no matter how close they were it seemed they were never close enough. The way that her breath would tickle Ginny's ear when whispering French obscenities through the heat of her passion and the way that she would blush ever so slightly the next morning when Ginny would ask her what they meant because nothing else in the world made Fleur Delacour blush.
But more than anything, Ginny loved the way that Fleur would hold her, with her arms wrapped tightly around Ginny's small body as they sat on the terrace watching the stars come alive and she leaned forward, brushing her face against Ginny's hair as she whispered the one thing that Ginny loved to hear more than anything else in the universe. "Tu es mon amour." Because it was spoken with such conviction that it was impossible not to believe and no one else in the world got to hear those words. No one else except Ginny, of course. And Ginny… well, Ginny loved that.