To Hermione:

No matter what you read, what I say, and what we learn, together, know always that I love you with the whole of my being and never doubt that I would do anything for you.

Fleur Isabelle Delacour

Your wonderful curiosity inspired these letters.

We were strolling along the shore, waves crashing at our feet and you squealed when the crest touched your toes: In that moment, I was enraptured by your curls bouncing as you danced away from the cold water. It was a cloudy day over our French property, but your hair seduced the sun, and I knew the word 'brown' would never be a sufficient description. You caught me staring (as you always do). And I could feel the smile on my face and the heat of your hand in mine and the moment was perfect and I whispered over the waves,

"I love you."

And you stopped. You looked at me as if you didn't believe me. As if you were studying a new theory and found the evidence faulty. Like you just couldn't understand how it all worked.

My chest always aches when you look at me like that.

It ached then, and I wanted desperately to reassure you, to impress upon you just how insatiable and insurmountable my love is for you.

And you responded, despondent and insecure, "I love you, too, Fleur. But I just don't understand why you settled for me."

I cannot find words. English or French or Latin or Veelain or otherwise to express to you the guilt and pain I felt in that second. It was like the air was taken from my lungs and a fist closed around my heart. I knew it was something magical. I knew it was an ancient punishment from my heritage. I hate that I deserved it then for not helping you understand what I feel for you at the center of ma âme. I hate that I failed you.

Failure. It is such a bitter experience.

I had failed then as your lover, girlfriend, and mate to assure you of my affections.

I vow to never let it happen again. I vow that every day for as long as we are together I will write you, in the hope that one day your curiosity will rule you and you find this journal and any others to come and learn of my heart's passion and my mind's fascination, of all the facets of my love for you.

This, my love, is the first of many endeavors in helping you understand what I know in my heart to be true:

Hermione Granger, I love you. Je t'aime.

Veuillez toujours,

Fleur Isabelle Delacour