Victoire had never once, in her entire career as a student, found herself so behind in her school work. She had slacked off over Easter holidays and now that she was back at school, she found herself attempting to play catch up with every free second she had. This was particularly aggravating, seeing as the weather was getting nicer and nicer every day; the Hogwarts' grounds were looking more and more inviting with each passing minute.

However, the handful of days she had been back at school had provided a much needed break from her ever constant thoughts of Ted. In fact, it wasn't until Whit reminded her to date her Transfiguration essay that she realized that Ted's birthday was the following day. It had completely slipped her mind.

She hadn't even thought about writing to him. It wasn't as if she didn't want to; she did. She just had no idea what to say to him now that the one thing she wanted to tell him wasn't something she particularly wanted to say in a letter. She wanted to tell him about her feelings in person, but that hadn't worked out.

She hadn't been able to secure another free moment with Ted that night at her grandparents' once Louis and Dominique had given up playing hide and seek with the younger cousins. Worse yet, she knew he had wanted to talk to her about something, but he hadn't. He had flipped the subject to Quidditch once Dominique and Louis had appeared; that was where it remained until he went back inside the house to tell everyone he was leaving. Whatever he had wanted to tell her was either not important enough to continue on about or important enough that he only wanted her to hear it.

She was hoping for the latter.

She had run over a thousand scenarios—both good and bad—in her head of what he might have wanted to say; each made as much sense as the next. She hated knowing that it could be ages before she figured this out. It left an empty feeling in her stomach just thinking about it.

As she walked to the library to meet Whit, she began to wonder what he was up to. He would be nineteen tomorrow and was probably still in Russia. She didn't know exactly when he would be back, but she hoped he at least found a few moments to enjoy his birthday while he was there.

She suddenly remembered him showing up on her porch on her birthday, despite being swamped with work, and giving her such a perfect and thoughtful gift. She wished she had something equally as thoughtful to send him, but being trapped at school made that impossible.

She sighed as she turned and entered the library, feeling terrible knowing that she had almost forgotten his birthday with how busy she'd been. She had loads of work due tomorrow, but she had to find a few moments to write him a nice letter. If she ate dinner quickly and skipped dessert she could—

"Hey Victoire," said a voice from nearby. She stopped and turned towards where Madam Pince was checking out books for students. Standing there was Stuart, his arms filled with several texts.

"Oh, hi." She stopped in her tracks and was suddenly unsure if she should move closer and fill the gap between them or not. She hadn't spoken to him since his birthday and really didn't know what to say to him.

"Hey." He smiled. "How have you been?"

"Well. Thanks," she said. "And yourself?"

"Alright," he said with a shrug, stepping away from the counter once he realized she wasn't coming any closer to him. "I haven't seen you in awhile."

"I've been around," she said. "Busy with school, you know."

"Same here," he said, shaking his head and glancing down to the books in his hands. "N.E.W.T.s are absolutely killing me."

"I can imagine."

"You left the Dragon's Breath early the other night," he said. "I didn't even see you go."

She tried to let herself remain expressionless. "Well, you were busy."

He grinned a little, missing her sarcasm. "I don't remember much of that night to be honest. I was really pissed."

"Yes, I saw that," she said as she shifted her weight on her feet and glanced around the library looking for Whit.

"I didn't say something to offend you, did I?" he asked as he watched her.

"Oh, no," she said as she studied his face. He was still as handsome as ever, but he wasn't nearly as attractive as she used to think. "No, nothing like that."

He smiled. "Oh, alright. I didn't think I had, but I wanted to be sure…" He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. He suddenly looked rather awkward. "Well, I hope you had fun that night."

She bit her bottom lip as a vision of Colleen and Stuart ran through her head, which then turned into her and Ted laughing with her mouth full of food. She suddenly smiled and looked away from Stuart. "I did, actually. I had fun."

"Glad to hear it," he said. "My only regret is that we didn't get to hang out more that night because I was really hoping we would."

She nodded more out of politeness than agreement. "Yes, that is rather disappointing, isn't it? However, I suppose it's all for the better."

"How so?" he asked.

She shrugged and took a step around him. "I should thank you really. If I hadn't seen you and Colleen snogging across the room, I may very well have not ever moved on."

He stared at her, his mouth slightly open as if he hadn't expected to hear that.

"If you hadn't done that," she added. "I probably would have spent the remainder of the night—well, the year—pining after you and—" she sighed, "I've done that for three years now. I just can't do it anymore. It's time to move on to someone new, who I think…" She paused and smiled slowly. "Actually, who I know will be a better fit for me. So, thank you."

"You're welcome?" he said for lack of something better to say. He suddenly looked confused.

She mustered up a polite smile, which was more than he probably deserved. "Good luck on your exams."

"Thank you…?"

She turned and continued walking through the library toward the back where she assumed Whit would be. She let herself smile once she was concealed between the aisles of bookshelves. That had felt rather good.

Several hours later, the excitement from having told Stuart off had worn and she was now back to the mundane task of attempting to keep up with her homework. She had already asked herself at least five times that hour why she had allowed herself to take so many classes this year; asking herself that only reminded her of how difficult the following year would be with N.E.W.T.s on top of all of everything.

"Mooncalf dung is especially helpful to these five fungi," Whit suddenly said as she read aloud from her book. "Name them."

Victoire stared at her, her head leaning lazily against her hand. She had wondered if her brain had leaked out of ear over the course of the last three hours. Her Uncle Ron had told her a story once when she was a child about a spell that could apparently do that and—even though her Aunt Hermione had told her that she hadn't heard of anything like that—she could still never shake the thought from her mind. If such a spell did exist, someone had just cast it on her.

"Anyone home?" Whit asked.

"Can we take a break?" she asked as she sat up straight and rubbed her eyes. "We've been at this for hours and it's not even due until Friday."

"Herbology's the last one," Whit encouraged, looking their work over. "We've only got maybe an hour of work left and, if we finish this, we're set for at least two days."

That had been Whit's goal. To help catch Victoire up and to get at least two days worth of work done so that she herself could have tomorrow night off. Victoire knew that the following night Jack had Quidditch practice and that he was usually too tired to study afterwards if he could help it. She had a sneaking suspicion that was why Whit so adamantly wanted the night off.

"At this rate, I'm going to have memorized the entire textbook," Victoire mumbled.

"That's a good thing." Whit smiled before she finally relented and checked her watch. "It's nine-thirty. At ten we're finishing this up."

"Excellent," she said as she leaned back and stretched in her seat. Whit did the same thing before she reached into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.

"What's that?"

"Something Jack wrote to me," she said. "I told him he really should be concentrating in his lessons right now because of his exams, but—" She shrugged and held up the note.

"You can't really blame him," Victoire said as she started doodling on a scratch sheet of parchment. "You're all but refusing to see him."

"That's not true," she said. "I just refuse to be a distraction. I tried studying with him yesterday in the common room and we just ended up screwing around the entire time."

Victoire looked up from her doodle and stared at her with an amused smile.

"Not…" Whit stammered once she realized what Victoire was thinking. "Talking, joking, playing around."

"Right…" she teased as she returned to her drawing.

"I wouldn't," Whit said, shaking her head. "Not in the common room…"

"Not in the common room?" Victoire continued to tease playfully as she saw Whit's cheeks get noticeably pinker. "But are other places acceptable? Somewhere a bit more private, perhaps?"

Whit picked her note up and placed it in front of her face, purposely hiding her red cheeks behind it. "I cannot wait until you figure things out with Ted and then everyone and their brother can just have a field day teasing you, because you know they will. I know I will."

"If and when…" Victoire sighed as she suddenly remembered that she had wanted to write to him that evening. "It's his birthday tomorrow."

"Ted's?" asked Whit from behind her letter.

"Yeah."

"Did you get him anything?"

"I barely just remembered it," she said as she pulled out a piece of parchment. "I feel like an idiot, but I'm just going to write him a letter."

Whit lowered her letter. "Confessing your undying love for him?"

Victoire shot her a look. "A bit dramatic, don't you think?"

She grinned. "You tell me."

Victoire picked up her quill and stared at the blank piece of parchment in front of her. What was she going to write? Happy birthday, hope you're having a good day? That seemed so impersonal. Yet everything else she felt encouraged to write seemed like too much.

"I have no idea what to write," she finally said after several minutes of silence.

"'Happy birthday' is a good start," Whit said as Victoire now noticed she was scribbling a note of her own. She watched her for a moment until she looked up from what she was doing and realized that Victoire really did seem torn on the matter. She put down her quill and folded her hands in front of her. "What do you want to say?"

She shook her head since she didn't know, though she did finally smile a little. "Hey Ted, I've gone and taken a fancy to you. Only took a little over seventeen years, but what do you say?"

"It's a start."

She made a face. "I was kidding."

"Why not tell him how you feel?" she asked.

"Through a letter? Why would I do that?"

"You don't seem to have much luck doing it in person."

"That's not fair," she said, looking back down at the blank sheet of parchment. "I've only really had one real chance, and it's not exactly easy."

Whit shrugged and picked her quill back up. "Well, if he happens to feel the same way about you, then think of how wonderful that letter would be to receive. On his birthday, no less."

"And if he doesn't?"

"From what you told me, he may very well," she said. "That conversation you had the other day seemed pretty indicative that some sort of mutual feelings are there."

"You don't know that," she mumbled. "And for all I know, he was just about to tell me how much he values me as a friend and a friend only." She sighed. "Maybe he realized how I felt and wanted to nip it in the bud as soon as possible."

"You're overthinking it."

"But what if—?"

"Stop worrying so much." She laughed. "You know, I really think you'll feel better if you just write it out. There's no rule saying you have to send it to him and you never know, you may finish it and think he should read it."

Victoire considered this. Perhaps it would be cathartic to just get it all out. She didn't have to send the letter to him and, once she got all of her feelings out on paper, she could then write him a more normal letter without worrying about all the things she wanted to say.

She picked up her quill and looked down at the blank parchment once more before she connected the quill to paper.

Ted-

Happy Birthday. You're nineteen! It seems like only yesterday you were turning nine and now this...

She stopped and reread what she had just written. That was rubbish. She took her wand and pointed it at the paper, erasing everything she had just written. She tried again.

Ted-

Happy Birthday! I don't know where you are when you'll get this, but wherever it is, I hope you're having fun celebrating.

She stopped and rolled her eyes as she absently tapped her wand to the parchment again. That was rubbish, too. Complete rubbish. She leaned back and crossed her arms across her chest as she stared at the parchment. She was making too much out of this and she knew it.

She leaned forward once more, throwing all of her inhibitions out and just going to it.

Ted-

I've gone mad. I'm convinced of it. I'm sitting here trying to write you a letter for your birthday and I can't do it. I can't write you a simple birthday greeting. You're probably wondering why it's even a struggle (how hard is it to scribble Happy Birthday down and send it off in the post?), but that's where me going mad comes into play. I've gone mad and I can't phrase a simple letter to you because I can't get the words right (have any of these words been right yet?). Everything I think I should write seems so trivial and stupid, and everything I want to write seems so intense and out of place for a letter. If I don't get this out though, I may very well explode. I can't concentrate properly and I'm blaming you.

I'm not sure how it happened. Perhaps it was always there and I chose to ignore it, but I'm not ignoring it anymore. You're my best friend and I don't want to lose you, but I also want more. I don't even know if you want more, but if I don't at least try I'll never know.

I told you I've gone mad.

What I'm trying to say is that I think I've gone and fallen for you. Actually, I know I have. Fairly hard, even. The sort of falling that makes me think about you all the time and wonder what you're doing even though I have a hundred other things I should be worrying about.

So I thought you should know. You yourself have always told me I have a tendency to fall for wankers, so I suppose it was only a matter of time until I fell for you (I really hope you laughed at that). This time though, I really feel like I've fallen for the right one…and it's terrifying and exciting at the same time.

Happy birthday.

Love,

Victoire

She read it over once and grinned to herself. Perhaps she should have thrown something in about how she wondered what his lips felt like or what he would feel like pushed against her. He wasn't going to read it, she could have a field day. It had been a cathartic experience though, that she could admit. She shoved this letter under her Herbology book and reached into her bag to pull out another piece of parchment to write him a real letter.

Ted-

Look who's gone and gotten old on me. Happy birthday! I hope you're having at least a little fun in Russia. You'll have to write to me and tell me all about it if you get the time.

I wish I had a present to give you since your present for my birthday was so perfect, but in good time. I'll make it up to you this summer when I get to see you, I promise. I'm really excited for the summer. It honestly can't come fast enough. I also promise a longer letter later, but I'm just so swamped with school work lately that I can barely scrape this one out. I blame you. I really do.

Happy nineteenth. I miss you a lot.

Love,

Victoire

She sighed once again and glanced over her short letter. She wished it could have been longer, but Whit was already pulling her Herbology notes back out. Plus, she really didn't know what else to say seeing as she had just seen him a few days ago. She began to fold it up.

"Can I see it?" Whit asked.

Victoire's eyes traveled to the longer note that was sticking out just behind her Herbology book and wondered if Whit noticed it. She handed her the note she intended to send Ted as she pushed her Herbology book further along to cover the other note completely.

"I thought you were going to write something more—" she scanned the letter, "personal?"

"I did write something personal," she said. "But that's the one I'm going to send him."

"Oh." She handed it back to her. "How'd that other one turn out?"

She drummed her fingers on the table and glanced down at her Herbology book. "Do you want to read it?"

"Only if you want me to."

She hesitated for a moment before she picked up her Herbology book. Both she and Whit looked down at the letter sitting beneath it.

"This one is quite a bit longer," Whit said as Victoire handed it to her.

"The stuff I don't want to talk about I can write for ages," she said. "The stuff I can write about, I can't think of anything better to say."

Whit smiled at her before she started reading it over. Victoire sat there staring at her intently, wondering what she would say as she watched her face for any expression. Once she had finished, she smiled and looked back up at her.

"I really think you should send this one."

"No." She shook her head. "Absolutely not."

"It's great," she said. "It's not over the top and it says exactly what you want it to in that quirky fun way that you and Ted relate to each other." She smirked. "I particularly like the wanker part."

"Would you have ever sent something like this to Jack?" she asked. "And don't say you would, because you wouldn't have."

"Jack wasn't my best friend," she said, handing the letter back to her. "You and Ted have an entirely different relationship."

"Which is why I'm not sending him this," she said as she folded it up and shoved it into her Herbology notebook. "Now let's finish this up, I'm exhausted and ready for bed."