You are Astoria Greengrass Malfoy.
Your favourite colour is light red.
It is the colour of the roses that he planted for you in the garden behind your home.
It is the colour of the handkerchief in his pocket when he proposed, his eyes shining.
It is the colour of his face when you told him that you loved him.
It is the colour of your dress when you first met.
For months, you watched him.
You watched him as he watched you.
And you wondered.
You wondered what a man like Draco Malfoy was doing in a place like this.
You wondered what he was doing, letting his life become as dusty as the café where your lives intersect.
You wondered why he watched you.
And one day…
You would talk.
You would hold his hand.
You would kiss him.
You would love him.
And then another day…
He would talk.
He would hold your hand.
He would kiss you.
He would love you.
You smiled when he said that you healed his soul.
You laughed when he said that you were the reason his song did not end.
You said that you loved him, and he smiled.
You said that you loved his smile, and he laughed.
You went back to the place where you first met.
You have not visited since the day you talked to him for the first time.
You were surprised when he asked you to meet him there for dinner.
He had convinced the owner of the café to lend him the place for the night.
You giggled and asked what the special occasion was when he popped a bottle of champagne.
He cooked a three course meal with all your favourites.
He told you about his day at his new job at the Ministry.
You told him about your day at the hospital.
You smiled shyly when he said that you were the most beautiful person he had ever met.
He smiled enigmatically when you teased him about taking so long to brew two cups of coffee.
You almost spit out your coffee, bitter but sweet, when he got down on one knee.
He almost knocked you out of your chair when he kissed you after you said yes.
He laughs as he presses down the earth around the last rose bush.
You kiss him and say thank you.
He kisses back and says no. Thank you.
He still wakes up in the middle of the night.
His breath short, his chest heaving, his eyes wide.
You still worry about where your life will take you.
You have bills to pay, you have nothing figured out.
Your favourite colour is light red.
You take a deep breath.
And you tell him.
It is the colour of the potion that you took this morning.
It is the colour that tells you that you are going to bring a new life into this world.
It is your favourite colour.
It is the colour of joy.