Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
AN: A little HG vignette since I've been away for so long. Hope you enjoy. :)
It's the first place he goes when it's over. After all her waiting, she deserves to come before all else.
She stands at her window, illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the pane. It reflects off her ginger hair to make a luminescent halo. Her hair looks soft as silk from where he is standing, and he longs to touch it, to run it through his fingers, to stroke it gently as he holds her close and never lets go.
He notices that she looks older, tired, more careworn, just like everyone else involved in this war, and he hates that she had to suffer through it. There are dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights (worrying about him, no doubt) and her entire face looks pale and drawn. Yet she has not lost the beauty that he remembers. True, the corners of her mouth are turned downward now, not upturned in a perpetual smile like they used to when they were together; but he can still see that fire, that burning look she always has in her eyes.
He takes a few steps toward her, and as she whirls around at the sound of him he catches a whiff of the flowery scent that intoxicates him, a smell that is so her and reminds him how much he has missed.
Her face flashes from shock to confusion to overwhelming, unadulterated joy in the span of a few moments. And suddenly he realizes that this has been what he has been fighting for. Not just destiny, not just vengeance, but this, too: the sight of her, here, welcoming him back to her with all the love she has to give.