I hate Fleur Delacour. I hate her stupid blonde locks. I hate her overdose of cheap French perfume. I hate her bloody accent - she can pronounce "blancmange" but not "the"? I hate the way she dances across rooms, picking men to put in her pocket as she waltzes. I hate the way she mangles my name into "Eer-my-nee". I hate the condescending lilt in her voice. I hate her dress. I hate her body. I hate everything that she does, ever has done, and ever will do.

I hate the fact that once she kisses me, I think about nothing else till daybreak.

I found the cure to growing older
And you're the only place that feels like home

As much as I hate to admit it, I like her. Sometimes, I think I might even love her. I hate it when I think that. But she is wonderful. She's my oxygen. I spend 22 and a half hours gasping for breath, watching Ron suffocate me as he snores, or the hands of the deathly dull Ministry closing around my throat. That precious, incredible, regrettable 1 and a half hours each day is all the time I have to breathe. Trouble is, I spend most of that time gasping for breath anyway. I hate that.

Just so you know, you'll never know
And some secrets weren't meant to be told

I wanted to scream today. Ron and I argued for hours over nothing. I just wanted to scream at him. Scream all my secrets - everything me and Fleur did together, everything I hate about him, everything I love about her. But I didn't. I just ran instead. For once in my life, I stopped thinking, and my legs took me straight to Fleur.

"'Eermoine, what are you doing 'ere"

I couldn't tell her. I'll never be able to tell anyone of our secret, so how am I meant to tell her my secret?

"You know."

That was a lie. She doesn't know. Probably never will. I hate that. She smiled an oblivious smile.

"Come 'een. I 'av the bed prepared."

Prepared was one word. Wonderful was another. Rose petals, wine, and what I was fairly sure were cherubs. My lover followed me into the bedroom, slipping her hands around my waist and nuzzling into my neck.

"Why didn't you say?"

"'Eet was a secret."

She turned me around and pushed her lips against mine, moaning into the kiss, gliding her tongue across my bottom lip, her hands pushing the heavy coat off my shoulders. I pulled away.

"Fleur, I need to tell you something."

I had to tell her. I had to scream it at her.

"What 'eez 'eet, mon cheri?"

"I…. I……. I…"

I needed to cream everything. Everything she made me feel, everything I love about her, every thing she does that makes me want her forever.

"I…… I…."

I found the cure to growing older

"….. Nothing"

She smiled another smile, although I'm not quite sure how oblivious that one was. I never did scream my feelings. Although, after lips brushed against lips, flesh touched flesh and fingers clutched bed sheets, I ended up screaming anyway.

I'm the first kid to write of hearts, lies, and friends
And I am sorry my conscience called in sick again
And I've got arrogance down to a science

Secrets don't last forever. As much as I like to think that if I keep quiet and keep hiding, nobody will ever know. But somebody's bound to find out one day, because I love her too much. One day, I'm going to know all the pain she feels. I'm simply cruel. I don't want to leave everything and everyone behind to be with her, but it's not because it's not the right thing to do. It's because I'm too damn scared and selfish. I go over the every day, make love to her, lie and talk to her pillow-to-pillow, make love some more, and then two hours later I'm gone, breaking her heart a little each time. She pretends to be confident and composured all the time, but I know she cries every night. I know because I do the same.

Douse yourself in cheap perfume it's
So fitting, so fitting of the way you are
You can't cover it up
Can't cover it up

She can't hold under this strain much longer. Sooner or later she's going to snap in two. I can't carry on the charade with Ron and his family much longer either. And we carry on this dance, her cloaked in delicate perfume, me cloaked in denial, as we kiss and dance and shag, pretending it's still just some quick, exciting fling of passion. Truth is, we're scared. Because we know it's not long before we both crack, and it's not Ron or the Weasleys or anyone else we'll have to face. We'll have to face ourselves.

Douse yourself in cheap perfume it's
So fitting, so fitting of the way you are
You can't cover it up
Can't cover it up

It happened in a flash. It was a normal day, a normal dance. There were clothes on the floor, body on mine, mine on the bed. There was a door being opened. There was shouting, crying, arguing, more shouting, and finally screaming. And then running. She ran. I ran. But for once, I didn't let my brain take charge. I did something stupid. I didn't run after her. I went north to stay with my parents. She went to France. I hope she still cries every night. I know I do.

Find a safe place, brace yourself, bite your lip
I'm sending your fingernails and empty bottles you've sipped

Back to your family cause I know you will be missed

I found a photograph yesterday, stuffed inside a hole in the pocket of my jeans. It's from the secret holiday we took to Marseilles. We skipped wine tasting and went straight back to the hotel. In fact, we even skipped the hotel and found a reasonably large photo booth. I still can't believe she talked me into taking the photographs naked. I sat on the bed and cried for an hour. I felt so without help, so without hope….. so without her. But that was then. This is now. Right now, the photographs are sitting on top of my suitcase. I'm going to France.

So you can find a safe place, brace yourself

I arrive at the train station in Paris, tired and determined. I broke her heart one time too many, and now I'm going to fix it. I don't care what anyone says, Molly can call me a whore or a cheater or a dyke or any name under the sun, I don't care. I am finding the woman I love and bringing her back to England.

They call kids like us vicious and carved out of stone
But for what we've become, we just feel more alone

Always weigh what I've got against what I left
So progress report: I am missing you to death

I arrive at her hotel room at two in the morning. She answers the door in pyjama bottoms and a big baggy jumper. She has never looked so beautiful.

Douse yourself in cheap perfume it's
So fitting, so fitting of the way you are
You can't cover it up
Can't cover it up

"'Eermione, what are you doing 'ere?"

"You know…."

"No 'Eermoine, I do not."

I smiled an innocent smile.

"I'll tell you afterwards."

"After wha-" I grabbed her and pulled her into a passionate kiss, and we fell together onto the hard mattress. And as cheesy as it sounds, I knew then that we'd be together forever.

You can't cover it up
Can't cover it up

We talked for hours afterwards. I didn't scream my feelings, I didn't need to. I just poured my feelings into her, and she understood every one. I told why she was a secret so long, and how I felt when she was. How I felt when when I was with Ron. How I felt when I was without her.

Someone old
No one new
Feeling borrowed
Always blue

Someone old
No one new
Always borrowed
Always you

And for the first time in years, I can breathe.

Now our bodies lie entangled and our mouths pant between frantic, desperate kisses, grabbing at her other like we're afraid the other might disappear. I pull back slightly and look deep into her eyes. I never did tell her. Now's the time to stop breaking her heart.

"Fleur… I need to tell you something."

"Well what 'eez 'eet, mon cheri?"

"I…… I…."

I found a cure to growing older
I found a cure to growing older

"….. I love you."

Douse yourself in cheap perfume it's
So fitting, so fitting of the way you are
You can't cover it up
Can't cover it up

I love Fleur Delacour. I love her blonde locks, curling between my fingers. I love the scent of her body. I love her exotic accent, especially the cute way she twists my name into "Eer-my-nee". I love her body dancing around the house, because I know she really is happy now. I love the confidence that oozes in her voice. I love the way she dresses almost as much as I love the way she undresses. I love her body. I love her soul. I love everything that she does, ever has done, and ever will do. And nothing can hide that anymore. Not even me.

Douse yourself in cheap perfume it's
So fitting, so fitting of the way you are
You can't cover it up
Can't cover it up