Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own.

Note: This is my entry for the Emotions Competition on HPFC by witchinhiding. It takes place right before and during Bill and Fleur's wedding, so I suppose it has spoilers for DH... I'm not sure. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Drop a review on by if you liked it. C:

On a totally unrelated note... asdfghjkl! This is my tenth fic on here! :D Thank you guys so much for your helpful feedback and support! Love you lots. xox

Emotion: Nervous
Letter: "F"
Character: Fleur Delacour
Word Count: 376

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For once in her life, Fleur Delacour is nervous. And not just the jittery kind of nervous, no, she isn't lucky enough for that. Instead, she is stuck with the butterflies doing summersaults in her stomach kind of nervous. It is not a good kind of nervous at all.

She sits in front of the pretty vanity, elbows propped up on the tabletop; she wouldn't be caught dead like this at her own home. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she lets a sigh leave her lips. Her long, silky hair is twisted elegantly on the back of her head, and the tiara lent to her by Mrs. Weasley sits upon her crown. Minimal amount of makeup is sprinkled upon her face (she is part-Veela, after all), but she doesn't feel beautiful.

She is too nervous to feel beautiful. When Fleur glances down at the gorgeous dress she's outfitted in, her stomach flip-flops again. Oh, nervousness. You'll never quit, will you? But today is her wedding day; she's supposed to be nervous… right? It's not like she's having second thoughts – oh, no, of course not. She loves him, loves him with all her heart.

So, she makes up her mind and decides to suck it up for him.

When Fleur walks down the aisle that night, the butterflies will not leave her be. But as soon as she sees him – his face lighting up, his eyes sparkling at the sight of her – shejust nervousness ceases, the butterflies freeze. A genuine smile appears on her flawless, strawberry pink lips. She continues down the aisle on her father's arm, now more eager than ever to be free – free to run to him.

"I do." He says those fateful words and her heart stops.

But she doesn't miss a beat, because it's him we're talking about. "I do."

And then his lips are on hers, warm and caring and compassionate. His hands are on her waist and her arms around wound around his neck, and all of her remaining worries fade away. Because as they break apart, the crowd cheering loudly from behind them, she is no longer Fleur Delacour.

She is Fleur Weasley, and Fleur Weasley is most definitely done with being nervous.

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