Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, disclaimed.
You aren't only the champion for Hogwarts in this Triwizard Tournament thing: you're my champion. My only champion.
I love you.
I love the fact that you love Quidditch. So do I. I suppose it comes of growing up with six Quidditch-mad brothers.
I love the way you're so modest, and get so embarrassed when people praise you.
I love the way you push your hair out of your face in such a sweet, absent-minded way when people are talking to you.
I love the way you're so friendly.
I love how well you represent your house. You'd be exactly what the founder of Hogwarts would have been looking for.
I love your dark hair; it's such a contrast to my red mess.
I love your friendly, sparkling eyes,
I love the way you trust everyone and always pay back a debt.
I love how high your expectations are. You're so ambitious, but in a nicer way than Percy.
I love the way you can compromise, and that you're a peacemaker.
I love how fair you are.
I love your honesty.
I love you, through and through.
I like to think that you are mine, although you didn't go with me to Yule Ball. I suppose that's partly my fault for not asking you.
Still, you are- were – mine.
Oh, Cedric. Why did you have to go and die on me?
