For the Word Count Game Challenge (600 words, Fleur Delacour, necklace, nervous)

She paces along, her delicate fingers worrying at the silver necklace the rests between her collarbones.

"Please, sister," Gabrielle sighs. "Stop pacing. You are making me nervous, too."

Fleur scowls. "I am not nervous."

But her protest sounds flimsy to her own ears. Even if she could keep her voice strong somehow, her body language would betray her. The way she can't sit still, the way she tugs at the necklace, the way she her palms become slick with sweat. It's a miracle she can even stand upright, as frayed as her nerves are.

Gabrielle climbs out of her chair and walks over. She folds her arms over her chest, staring up at her sister sternly.

The sight is almost comical, and Fleur has to swallow back a laugh. Her sister is still so tiny. She almost reminds Fleur of a baby bird.

"You love Bill," Gabrielle says firmly. "Bill loves you. What is there to worry about?"

Fleur pats her sister's cheek. She wishes she could still be young enough to believe that love is enough. One day, sadly, Gabrielle will understand how complex it really is.

"Oui. I love with all of my heart," she confirms. "But it is a big step. It doesn't matter how much we love each other. We are making a big commitment. It is not like making a decision to be someone's girlfriend. It is a stronger bond, and that is terrifying. I am choosing to spend the rest of my life with him. I am trying life to his."

Gabrielle softens slightly. She purses her lips, twirling a finger through her silvery blonde hair. "That does sound scary," she admits.

Fleur nods. She takes a seat in front of the mirror, examining her reflection. She doesn't need to, of course. She already knows that she looks amazing. But it gives her something to do while she collects her thoughts.

"We are marrying in the middle of the war," she adds softly, turning her head this way and that, examining every angle for the hundredth time. "That makes it about a hundred times scarier. I could easily become his wife tonight and his widow tomorrow."

"You are not nervous because you don't love him enough," Gabrielle says, moving behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "You are nervous because you love him too much."

"Not too much. There is never too much love," Fleur says, smiling as she touches up her lipstick. "But yes. I love him so much, Gabrielle. It scares me to think that there will come a day where I might be without him. The werewolf attack last year made me realize that he could be taken away from me, or I from him, so easily."

Gabrielle rests her head on her sister's shoulder. "I hope that someone loves me like that one day."

Fleur laughs. "They will. And one day, you will be getting ready to walk down the aisle, and you will be just as nervous as me."

"I'm looking forward to it."

There's a knock at the door. Molly pops her head in, smiling. "Sorry, dear. But it's time."

Gabrielle takes Fleur by the hand, guiding her to feet. "Still nervous?" she asks.

Fleur smiles. "Terrified."

And the nerves don't go away. Even as she walks down the aisle, she can feel the maddening flutter in her stomach, like a thousand butterflies have been let loose. But when she stands before Bill, the storm inside her seems to calm down.

Nervous, yes. But she can handle it as long as she has him.