Disclaimer: Although I haven't explicitly mentioned characters' names, you know they belong to JK Rowling. The story (or lack thereof) and description are mine.
A/N: Not the most fantastic piece of my writing but in my defence I haven't written fanfiction in a long while and sometimes it's a little difficult to slip back into it. There's not much story to it because I wanted to focus mainly on the description. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.
She had never looked as beautiful to him as she did in that moment.
Sitting in the corner, under the shelter of the bus stop, her knees were drawn close to her body and her arms were wrapped tightly around them. There were goosebumps dotted all over her bare arms and she could barely suppress a shiver every now and then. Her black dress pooled around her rather elegantly considering the situation, the hem slightly stained with splashes of water. Puddles, he mused. Unavoidable or deliberate.
Looking at her now, he could imagine that it had been deliberate. Despite her vulnerable state, he was seeing her in his mind's eyes, splashing furiously through puddles of water, taking her frustration out on them. Those strands of hair would have toppled down as she ran; that hand would have hastily brushed away the falling tears, staining both her cheeks and her hands.
Her face had relaxed in the past few minutes that he had been watching her. Where her eyebrows had been knitted in anger, there was now an expression of resignation. Her eyes were red-rimmed but the tears had stopped. The tear tracks still stained her cheeks, and her mouth was set in a contemplative pout. The silence surrounding her was occasionally punctuated by a sniff.
She shuffled slightly, bringing her arms up so that her elbows rested on her knees. Placing her hands on either side of her face, she tilted it to the right, looking out into the sheet of rain falling steadily from the dark sky. He stood there, getting soaked by the minute, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting for her eyes to land on him. And soon enough they did.
Her eyes seemed to flare in anger as her entire body stiffened, yet she did not look away. He, too, held her gaze. The corner of his mouth lifted in a tentative smile and he pulled one hand out to give a small wave. However, he stopped mid-gesture at the look of absolute fury on her face, and sighed.
Not breaking eye contact, he moved towards her slowly, unsure of what her reaction would be. She straightened up, alert, and her eyes dared him silently to come closer. He continued, unfazed. He knew what she was doing but he was determined to break through her barriers – after all, he'd done it once before. Before she had shut him out again.
She scrambled to her feet and her dress fell in its folds around her ankles. Her hair had now fully fallen out of its confinements, and lay haphazardly on her shoulders. Her breath was coming out heavily. Fists clenched at her sides, she was the perfect picture of a fire-breathing dragon, and yet he moved forward.
By the time he was under the shelter of the bus stop, he was drenched. His hair clung to his forehead, water dripping freely from the dark strands, yet that ever stubborn clump of hair still stood proudly. His suit was soaked and hung limply from his body. The glasses glinted under the flickering tube light.
Her red-rimmed eyes and tear stains were strikingly prominent this close and he noticed that her nose had taken on a pink tinge. Her hair looked tangled and frizzy, yet he still thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Her expression changed once again; the look of resignation was replaced by a frown. He took a step closer so that there was only a foot between them. She stared up at him with bug green eyes, hurt and angry, and his hazel ones stared back. She shook her head slightly, stepping back, and turned to leave. This is it, he thought. Now or never.
His hand reached out and grabbed her arm. She stopped and he felt her stiffen. His heart thudded in his chest so hard, he was convinced it would bruise. She did not turn around. He sighed and ran his free hand through his hair.
Now or never.
Tugging on her arm, he pulled her around to face him. She was staring resolutely at the ground. His hand came up to her chin and gently forced her to look at him in the flickering light. Her eyes had filled with tears again and his heart constricted painfully. The rain was pounding on the roof of the bus stop, sounding like it was ready to break through, but he couldn't hear it. His concentration was focussed on the woman in front of him.
"I love you," he said. "Marry me."
He had felt his lips form the words but didn't hear them. He knew she had heard them, however. Her eyes widened slightly and her mouth fell open a fraction. The rain continued to fall heavily but neither of them paid it any mind. He watched her carefully for a response.
The light flickered once more and died just as she whispered her answer. She herself didn't hear it, but he did. He could only just make out the outline of her face, but to him at that moment details weren't important. He pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent. Her face was pressed comfortably into his chest, and he wanted nothing more than to stay there forever.
Because she had never looked as beautiful to him as she did in that moment.