He loves her hair

He loves …

He loves her hair. The way it gently curves around her jaw and falls down to her waist. The subtle scent of vanilla as he burrows his nose in it. He loves tangling his fingers in the shiny auburn waves and gently pulling her towards himself for a soft kiss.

He loves her mouth. The way she sweetly tells their son off for knocking over chairs on his tiny broomstick while trying to hide her smile. He loves the softness of her mouth when she quickly pecks his cheek before he goes to work.

He loves her hands. Those small, slender fingers who always seem to find the tense muscles in his neck. Those palms which with a cool touch can calm him down when he's upset. Those hands with which she calmly commanded the most powerful spells to protect not only her own but also his life.

He loves her eyes. Her eyes which gleamed with joy at the birth of their son. Those expressive emerald eyes who can tell him off and tell him how much she loves him at the same time. The way she raises an eyebrow when teasing him. The way those green eyes found his while she promised to have him and to hold him, forever.

All the things he loves about her. How would he love to see them just one last time. One last kiss, one last touch, one last look at those beautiful eyes.

Instead he closes the door to Harry's bedroom and raises his wand. Even though the light that will spark from the other's wand will be the last thing he'll ever see, the colour of it will be enough.

The green of those eyes he loved so dearly.