Let me use what tools I have to speak with you, Pansy, for listening to you and saying nothing is impossible. Every sweet word of yours is a sword to my heart. I am in torment. I am filled with hope. I must be brave and confess to you that I am yours as ever I was eight years ago. You cannot say a wizard forgets sooner than a witch for I have never forgotten you, I have never loved another as I love you. I have been many things... spiteful and unfair and cowardly, but I have never been anything other than desperately in love with you. Pansy, you are the reason I am here in Hogsmeade. You are the witch for whom I burn. Please tell me that you see how I feel for you. If I could have read your mind, practiced Legilimency, I should have spoken sooner, confessed sooner all that I feel. It is impossible for me to write how much I still love you. Every moment I hear your voice I am overwhelmed, though you are trying to whisper. I cannot help but be attuned to your voice as to no other. My beautiful flower, you say that you do believe a wizard feels true love towards his witch, so please believe that from me it is a most passionate, unyielding love. I must leave now but will be with your party soon. I shall await a look from you—anything to tell me if I should go tonight to your father’s home, or never.