Disclaimer: I am not an immensely wealthy British authoress, nor am I magical.
Silver and green and yellow and black.
Really, they are the worst colours to pair together, ever, in the history of all that is magical, and yet here they are, holding hands, as if they are a couple (they are, aren't they, maybe it's better if they're not?) and people are snickering, they're shocked even, and she can't help but feel a bit of pride.
Because, she's a Black, but she's also secretly giddy to see his messy blonde curls glow in the sunset, to know that beacon of a smile directed only at her. It makes her long to scoff in their faces, and say, "You see? It really doesn't matter; love and hate are found everywhere, don't you get it?" She's actually figured it out, and no other Black has.
But then there's that steely glint in her sister's eyes and she knows she's not forgiven, not by anyone in her family, and her heart breaks a little further, because she just wants them to see the innocence of two teenagers, scarves entangled in the wind, fingers intertwined, cheeks cracking from rambunctious laughter.
They chase each other now, all around the lake, casting ridiculous sounding spells ("Impediasplenda! Wingfartium mucosa!") and it isn't until she trips into the water and re-surfaces covered with impossibly netted seaweed that she realizes what joy is, and she suddenly knows that she's never had it properly until now –
- and there's this funny squeezing in her chest, but she can't tell if it's from him or her or simply herself for yearning to be all silver and yellow and green and black, Merlin she's a Black, what is she doing –
- he pulls her onto shore, looking at her with those marvelously hazel eyes (all flecks, she thinks, of every colour available) and holding her with those sweet, gentle hands, and the heavy feeling dissipates. Of course she knows what she's doing. She's an Andy, and he's a Ted, and together they whisper their spell, the one they laboured over every night of Astronomy instead of taking notes. Streaks of light whisk past their faces, and amidst the showers of aquamarine she knows that's all the colour she will ever need.