Don’t Wait Too Long
A brown owl painfully pecked my arm. Looking up from the paper, I removed the letter. I thought nothing of it. The letter was probably from my mother, or my friend, Thomas, sending plans for later the night. So I set the letter down next to my plate, not even glancing at it, and resumed reading an article. I sighed. It was too depressing to read the newspaper anymore.
I blinked at the heavy parchment envelope. It was not from Thomas or my mother. It was addressed to me in light blue ink, the same color as my old Beauxbatons robes. I instantly knew who the letter was from. It was the elegant, cursive writing that I had seen on so many letters in the past. I sometimes dreamed about that writing, although it had been almost two years since I last received a letter from her. I examined the envelope. I knew what it contained. I had sealed so many similar ones the previous year, when my sister married.
My heart sank. My insides dropped to my feet, turning to cold stone as they fell. There was no light anymore, darkness had obscured it all. It was as if a Dementor had come into the room, and sucked all of the happiness out of my soul, all of the air out of my lungs. The world had crumpled down onto my shoulders. I didn’t breathe as I broke the seal of the envelope, my stomach clenched tightly. I would have thought myself dead if I hadn’t felt my heart thumping rapidly in my chest.
It was confirmed. My worst fear had come to pass. One small, petty invitation and my insides felt like they had been run over. They were trampled, squashed, broken. I was crushed. I looked down at the invitation. My vision was blurring and my head pounding. I took a painful breath, hoping it would help me relax. Instead, it sent an icy chill through my body and made me feel worse. I darted to the bathroom and vomited. The girl I loved was getting married.
I couldn’t help but think of that invitation all throughout the day. The blue ink mocked me. That name, Bill Weasley, made me want to throw something. He was probably handsome, a model or something of the sort, too good looking for words, just like her. He probably had blue eyes, so stunning that they made people stop in the street. And he must have been was really tall. She told me that’s what she liked once, tall men with blue eyes. I was tall, I supposed, but spent so many nights wishing my eyes were blue. I even began looking for spells on changing eye color, but they were much too complex for me. So I gave up. He probably doesn’t appreciate her though, I figured. Not like I did.
Everyone liked Fleur; everywhere she went men couldn’t keep their eyes off of her. Every boy in school liked her. Even a few of the teachers had been mesmerized by her once or twice, only to snap out of it to find the class roaring with laughter. Fleur never minded the attention though. She was confident and braced the attention with open arms. She didn’t mind everyone always looking at her and asking her to dances and balls. That wasn’t me though. I admired her from afar. She was beautiful, that part was certain. She was part Veela, but I didn’t love her for that. I didn’t care about that. It was just her. I loved her, knowing all her faults. She was arrogant sometimes, and a perfectionist. But I always saw beyond that. I knew her for who she really was, not a stunning beauty, but a girl, with more problems than she let on. She was my best friend, and thinking about it now, that was probably why. I didn’t jump all over her “ she could be herself with me.
I was average in every way. Not bad looking, but not even close to her equal in any way. I got okay grades, and the teachers liked me alright. I wasn’t bad at Quidditch. I played Chaser as an alternate for our team. The one thing that always baffled me was how people would get jealous. I, not handsome, nor witty nor charming, had somehow managed my way into Fleur’s life. I, just a mediocre boy, had become an important part of the lovely Fleur Delacour’s life. It was no secret that Fleur considered me one of her best friends. And for some strange reason her boyfriends, or boys vying for her affection, felt threatened by me. I couldn’t see why. I was nothing compared to her or them.
Fleur had long, silky blonde hair, which often looked silver, and crystal blue eyes. Whenever I saw her, regardless of the number of times I had seen her in the past; my breath would catch in my throat. I couldn’t see anyone but her. It could have been because she was Fleur Delacour, the girl I loved, and that is how you feel when you’re in love. Or it might have been just because it was her, and she had that affect on every man.
Fleur was more than beauty though. Beneath all she was, and all she did, and as delicate as she seemed, she wasn’t. She was fierce, one of the bravest people I had ever met. I had always admired her. Fleur always knew what she wanted, and she went out to get it. Nothing could hold her back; she was determined and courageous. And brilliant, yes, she was brilliant. She got top marks in everything. And yet, even though we were so different, somehow we became friends. Best friends.
I lost her. If I had just told her that I loved her, then maybe it would have all been different. But I didn’t, I couldn’t tell her. Seven years of knowing I was in love with her, and I didn’t say a word. I told myself that I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. That was lie. I cared about our friendship, but I would have risked it for her. If only I had the bravery. I didn’t think I was good enough for her. I didn’t think she could ever love someone as ordinary as me, for she was extraordinary. How could she have loved me when, there were thousands of men out there, who would gladly be with her, with ten times the value of me?
Pain rippled through my body. Pain, sorrow, and regret slashed at my insides like a knife. The anger I had felt all those years had melted away. It was the anger that I felt at her for leaving me to go to Britain. It was that resentment that kept me from writing to her. I was angry that she hadn’t been there for me when my father died when she was at Hogwarts. I had no reason to be; I hadn’t written to her. But if she was truly my best friend, she should have found out somehow. I was angry at Fleur for not loving me. I was angry at myself for not telling her.
There was a lump in my throat now, but I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t let myself feel grief over a girl who had never really been mine in the beginning. I was suddenly drained. All of the energy I had emptied from my body. I sent an owl to my boss telling him I was sick. I couldn’t go to work. Instead, I collapsed on my bed, memories of Fleur flooding my mind. As tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep. How could I sleep when Fleur was somewhere in England, preparing to marry a man named Bill Weasley in a few months?
I wondered if he noticed how her hair would catch the sunlight and shimmer like a thousand falling stars. Did he realize how to tell if she didn’t like something? Her nose would wrinkle in disgust. Did this man love the way her eyebrows furrowed together when she was angry, or concentrating exceptionally hard, the way I did? Had he memorized every freckle on her face, every line on her palm, every expression to grace her face? Could he remember every word she had ever spoken? Did he love her for her outspoken voice and candid opinions, or just her lovely exterior? Could he be content to just sit there and watch her, breathing in her every movement, because she was safe and happy? He probably doesn’t see how she shines, I thought.
Above everything else, that’s what I still remember most about Fleur Delacour. It’s not her silky hair that comes to mind first; her silky hair that would sway when she walked and whipped around her face when there was a light breeze. It’s not her dazzling smile, which made my heart soar, that I remember most, nor how I felt when she kissed my cheek, burning my skin and making my stomach loop. It was her glow. Everything about her shone. She would walk into a room, and it was like someone flicked the light switch on. It could be a dreary day outside, or I could be been having a bad day, but she would appear and it was like the sun came out.
Something about Fleur always made me feel better. One look into her deep blue eyes and my spirit would rocket. Some days, at Beauxbatons, I would wake up and go to classes just at the prospect of seeing her. I don’t know how she couldn’t have known. Over the years, she must have caught me gazing adoringly at her, simply watching her do her homework or chat with friends. She must have seen the love I had for her in my eyes at least once. As hard as I tried to hide it, my eyes often betrayed me. Yet, she never said a word “ the ultimate confirmation that she didn’t love me back.
By the time I fell asleep that night, tears silently trickled down my cheeks. How I missed those eyes, how I missed how her cheeks would turn pink in the crisp air. But no matter how much I missed her, I would not go to her wedding. I would not submit myself to that kind of torture. That night I dreamt of the day Fleur begged me to come to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. That was one thing I would not do, she couldn’t even convince me, and she could convince me of anything. I had nothing against Hogwarts, but I would not spend my last year there. I had no desire to.
That was my first mistake. Maybe if I did, it would all be different, for that was when I lost her.
I couldn’t help myself. July slid by and I couldn’t stop thinking about Fleur. Slowly, the promise not to go to her wedding disappeared. I knew going was a bad idea. It would be suicide, having to watch Fleur marry someone else. But I needed to. I needed to see her; there was a burning desire in my chest. I knew if I didn’t go and see her marry this man, I wouldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t know that she was okay.
So, on August the third, I awoke at dawn. I hadn’t gotten much sleep in those months anyway, so I was used to it. I just laid there, hating myself, and wishing that I was a man I had never met. Because, if I was that man, in a few hours, I would be marrying the most beautiful girl in the world. But with no such luck, I rose and showered, still the same man in the same situation.
I quietly slipped into the back of the outdoor ceremony. The sky was a forget-me-not blue. I would surely never forget that day. The sun was shining brightly in the clear sky. It was a warm day, with a soft breeze, the perfect day for a wedding. If the weather had reflected how I felt, it would have been violently raining fireballs. The wedding was outside, under a white, cloth roof outside, at a tall house in the country. I imagined the house belonged to the family of Bill Weasley, which struck me as odd. The setting did not seem like Fleur’s taste at all.
I had purposely come a little bit late, so the ceremony began a few minutes after I arrived. Slow music came on, causing all of the guests to quiet. First came a small girl, sprinkling yellow and pink flower petals. Then a miniature Fleur walked down the aisle. I immediately recognized her as Fleur’s sister, Gabrielle. Another girl followed. She was older than Gabrielle, with long red hair. I figured she was on the groom’s side. After the red-haired girl came Eloise Pomeroy. She was friends with Fleur at school. She must have been the Maid of Honor.
Then my Fleur appeared. My stomach turned over, and my breath caught in my throat like it had done so many times before. She looked like an angel. Her shiny blonde hair framed her face in soft curls. She did not wear a veil. I figured it was because she wouldn’t want her face hidden. It was comforting to know that I still knew her a little bit. She did have a tiara crowning her head though. She always was a princess to me. Fleur’s white dress elegantly flowed with her as she moved up the aisle so gracefully. Her face was glowing, smiling warmly. She walked down the aisle on her father’s arm “ beaming at the man waiting for her.
I tore my eyes away for her, causing myself physical pain. They reached the groom. He was grinning nervously, standing next to a ginger-haired man. This man, Bill Weasley, also had red hair, only his was pulled back in a pony tail. He was probably handsome once, I couldn’t quite tell. I was sitting in the back, but I could see that his face was now deeply scarred.
The ceremony went on, some in French, but most in English. I wouldn’t really know though. Although I could understand both languages, I didn’t listen. My head was reeling. I was in a daze. Fleur was marrying someone, who was not beautiful like herself, but whose flesh was painfully torn. It was my worst nightmare. I never thought I was good enough for her. I never thought she could harbor feelings of romance towards me, because I was ordinary. I could have been wrong. She could have felt something for me. Maybe I thought her shallow, because she was beautiful. I guess I didn’t know her as well as I thought. I would probably never know how she had felt now.
And it was over. Fleur kissed Bill, joy emitting for her sparkling blue eyes. Why didn’t I object when it was asked? I couldn’t. I was never brave like her. I didn’t fight for what I wanted like she did. It was all too clear at that moment. I was afraid; I was weak. But even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have ruined her wedding day. Not when she was so blissfully happy.
Soon, the reception started. It was outdoors, in the same area as the wedding. I didn’t go though. I had no desire to go. I just sat under the tent, never moving from that chair. My head was throbbing painfully, and the world was spinning. It all replayed in my memory. Fleur married that man. It was all said and done. I wasn’t even sure if I was still breathing.
“Excuse me?” said a voice next to me. I thought I was safely tucked away but I guess I wasn’t as discreet as I thought. I straightened up and blinked the person into focus. It was the girl in the wedding; the one with the long red hair. “Are you all right?” She asked again. I just shrugged. The girl kept her eyes closely on me, as if I might fly away. “What’s your name?” She asked suspiciously.
I figured I should tell her. Otherwise, she may have thought that I was a Death Eater, which would have drawn unwanted attention towards me. “Christian Beaumont,” I said miserably. “I went to school with Fleur.” The girl nodded. Her eyes settled on the party.
“You speak English very well,” she said softly, a few minutes later. Her eyes still rested on a small group of people, which I could not see from where I sat.
“Thank you,” I replied politely. I only had a slight French accent. “I lived in Ireland until I was eleven, but my parents spoke French at home,” I offered. The girl looked at me. Her eyes were brown. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen. “What’s your name?” I asked this time. This girl looked a bit sad herself, maybe she could relate.
“Ginny Weasley,” she said. I should have known. She looked like the groom. “My brother married Fleur,” she noted. I gave a nod of understanding.
Fleur was dancing closely with her husband. She was not wearing her extravagant wedding dress anymore, but a summery lilac one. The reception would probably go late into the night. I’m not sure how long I looked at her. My gaze didn’t falter. I didn’t even blink. I looked away when Ginny Weasley spoke though.
“You should talk to her,” she said kindly, in a soft voice. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.” Maybe this girl, Ginny Weasley, was wise beyond her years. Or maybe I was just obvious. I didn’t know. I stared at the girl for a moment before nodding. I wasn’t sure I would take her advice though.
It was quiet again. We both just watched. I could hear the tinkling of music, but it seemed so far away, so distant. It was like I was in another world. “What about you?” I finally asked, rather curious as to who this girl was watching. She smiled weakly.
“He loves me. I know he does,” Ginny said distantly, hoping to believe the words she spoke. “I just have to wait a while.”
She was lucky. She still had something to wait for, unlike me. I had nothing. Nothing but a love that ended in the girl marrying someone else. I wasn’t going to wait though. I couldn’t wait. There was no use, for there was nothing left to wait for. Sometimes it hurts more to hold on than it does to let go.
I suddenly wanted to leave. I wanted to go home. I didn’t want to watch Fleur waltzing across the grass with Bill Weasley. It hurt too much. So I stood, without even realizing I had done so. I could see where Ginny’s eyes fell. They had wandered to a boy with messy black hair. I only could see the back of his head.
“Ginny?” I said softly. She looked at me. I hesitated for a moment, choosing my words carefully. “Don’t wait too long.” I hoped that I could help the girl avoid the mistakes of my past. She studied my face for a moment before giving a nod. I walked out of the roofed area. I could Apparate home, having a clearer destination, but I didn’t want to do it in the midst of the celebration.
I made my way through the party, looking for the way out. I was almost to the front of the house, when I froze. Someone was calling my name. I knew that voice. It was Fleur’s melodious call. I slowly turned around. Ginny and Fleur were standing a few feet away from me. She had told her. Ginny saw me leave and mentioned it to Fleur. Damn her!
I could see Fleur darting towards me, despite her dress. She threw her arms around me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, no matter how hard I fought against them. “Christian!” She exclaimed, pulling away from me. Her face looked delighted, but her blue eyes strange. “You came!” I looked at her delicate face, her soft hair. I nodded. “How are you?” she asked in French.
“Not bad,” I answered tiredly. “You’re married!” I tried to sound enthused, but failed horribly. She nodded, looking flushed. “I’m happy for you,” I offered. I knew Ginny was watching, and probably Bill, wondering what we were saying in French. Fleur nodded. Our eyes locked for a few moments. I couldn’t read her eyes, but I thought I saw something flicker. I probably just imagined it.
“Good luck, Fleur,” I said quietly.
“I missed you.” She words came out quickly, desperately, as if she needed to say them. I gave her a somber smile.
“As did I.” We both looked in each other’s eyes for a moment “ my simple brown eyes. She gave a firm nod.
“Maybe we can get together sometime and talk?” It took every fiber of my strength to shake my head.
“I’m sorry, Fleur. I don’t think so. It hurts too much.” I said in an audible whisper. I tried to avert her eyes, which were looking directly at me. I would be honest now. I had to be. Fleur nodded, her eyes dropping. She knew. I gave her a last hug, enjoying her silky hair on my cheek for the last time.
“I did love you,” she whispered in my ear. I closed my eyes for a moment, basking in her words. I gave a slight nod. I didn’t need to say it. My eyes said it all. To my own surprise, I turned to Bill Weasley and held out my hand.
“Take care of her,” I said in a low voice in English. He shook my hand and nodded, watching me closely. I gave a small smile to Ginny and took my exit.
That night was the last night I cried for Fleur Delacour. I wasn’t going to live my life wishing and hoping, living in what could have been. I couldn’t do that. So I cried. I cried for everything I never had. We might have had it all. We never knew. But I did know that she was in love with Bill Weasley. I know she had loved me at one point, though. It’s funny how that sometimes happens. It was too late for us. It all came out too late.
As much as I loved her, I couldn’t regret any of it, not now. The feelings I felt for her seem so dim now, so distant. It’s strange, for they had been so real. But time does that, I suppose. Every once in a while, like when the sun hits a Golden Snitch just right and it shimmers like her hair, or when the sky is the exact color of the Beauxbatons blue ribbon she tied her hair back with when we were twelve, I think of her and a rush of old feelings come forth. Old feelings lost a lifetime ago and long gone. They are just imprints in my memory now. But when she comes to mind at times like those, I always smile.
I saw her once a few years later in Diagon Alley. She was as beautiful as ever. I only noticed her because I caught that familiar twinkle of her hair. She was walking with Bill. He was holding a little girl, who looked about five. She looked just like her mother. And Fleur was holding a boy, who couldn’t have been more than a year old. He had red ringlets for hair.
I was with my own daughters. I had two small girls at the time; my third daughter and my son hadn’t been born yet. Fleur gave me a warm smile and a hug. I introduced her to my two girls. Anna was five and Catherine was three, at the time. They had my brown eyes. The first thing I taught them was the lesson that took me too long to learn “ to love themselves, because without that, they can't love another. I met her two children, Victoire and Tristan. As I shook Bill’s hand, my breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t because of Fleur though, no, I caught a glimpse of a different woman. A woman I liked to call my wife.
I owe a lot to Fleur. She was my first taste of love, but it wasn’t just that. Because of her, the second I knew I loved Elisabeth, I told her. I wanted to scream if from the rooftops. I owe that to Fleur. I learned from my past mistakes and was braver than I thought I was. And I never let Elisabeth slip away; I wouldn’t lose her because of fear, like I lost Fleur. I was in love with her, and my breath still catches in my throat every time I see her.
We chatted for a few minutes. I knew Fleur was happy for me, as I was for her. We both knew it had all worked out for the best. We decided to all go out to dinner sometime, but it had to be in a few weeks, for my third daughter, Juliette, was due any day. Everything was in the past now. But that wasn’t the last I saw of Fleur. Our daughters, Anna and Victoire, are in the same year at Hogwarts, and are now the best of friends. My third daughter, Jules, has a small crush on Tristan, who is a year older than her. Fleur suspects that the feelings are mutual. And I’m sure my son, who has found friendship in the youngest Delacour-Weasley, will one day have the same affection I once harbored for her mother. After all, Bryan is just like me, and Ariana is just like Fleur.
But that day in Diagon Alley, before Bill and Fleur turned to go, I had to ask.
“How’s Ginny?” My voice was casual, and my eyes shining. I owed a lot to Ginny too. Fleur looked mildly surprised.
“Why do you azzk?” I shrugged. Maybe one day I’d tell her. She continued though, giving me a strange look. “She iz engaged to ’arry Potter.” I smiled. I knew Harry Potter, everyone did. He had messy raven-colored hair.
I’m glad she didn’t wait too long, I thought, as I scooped up Catherine with one arm, and wrapped the other around Elisabeth. I’m glad I didn’t wait too long.
Don't Wait Too Long by KASK
Chapter Notes: Thanks so much to GWeaz & LilysLove (Michelle) for Beta-ing! They both did a really great job and helped improve the story greatly! :)
I hope you like it!