She reminds me of autumn, in a lot of ways. But maybe it's just because I like autumn.
You see, her hair is brown, and autumn is brown, as well as swirls of other colors-red and gold, like the colors of her scarf. And she is standing there on this cool November day, scarf wrapped tight around her neck and chin, brown eyes blinking, and bushy brown hair blowing into her face due to the wind.
We are both cold as we stand outside of the cave. Her hand has found mine, and I can see in her eyes that she is scared, but not only does fear sparkle delicately in those chestnut-brown pools, but hope.
Harry is somewhere in the cave, and he knows that he will find the locket, and he says that this time he'll drink any stupid potion if he has to in order to get to the Horcrux. No one else he loves is dying this time. No one.
But all she does is smile, and take my hand. Because this time it will end differently. We have made a promise, now that everything is situated as far as feelings go, and she is making me keep myself alive everyday, for her and for me.
She tells me she wants to travel one day, on cold nights, when she's coughing and I'm trying to start a small fire. "Esperanza," she whispers. She doesn't tell me what language it is, although I believe it's Spanish, or perhaps Italian. I've never heard Fleur say it, so it can't be French.
But I know what it means, even when she forgets to tell me.
It means hope.
FIN