He's talking to Sirius and Molly when he sees a flash of bright bubblegum pink hair.
And his heart can't help but flutter.
(Remember Winger, I digress)
"I confess you are the best thing in my life," He says promptly, spinning around and sighing when he catches the quizzical look on his best friend's face from the reflection in his bathroom mirror.
"Too formal?"
(There's no happy endings, no Henry Lee)
But you are the greatest thing about me, he sighs, as he watches her laughing at the dinner table, her ever changing eyes shining.
'You're just friends', he reminds himself, 'Stop over-thinking.'
(Love, love, love)
"We've got to have something to keep us together," She jokes lightly, referring to their nightly duties, as they're sitting back to back in the Department of Mysteries corridor, wands drawn, on their jobs.
"Yeah," He swallows, "Yeah."
(I wanna buy you everything, except cologne)
"Cause it's poison!" He exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air as they walk on the snow covered streets, side by side, "How can someone even like chewing gum?" He questions, being the chocoholic he is.
But when he sees her indigo Cadbury chocolate-wrapper eyes get closer he can't resist.
(And if we decide that it's forever)
No one else could do it better, Sirius smiled, as he watched both of them yell, laugh and chase each other as they tossed snow at each other as if they were kids, eventually ending up on the frozen ground and sealing the gap with a kiss. They clicked so well.
He hadn't felt so happy for someone else ever since James and Lily.
(And if I'm addicted to loving you)
"And you're addicted to my love too," She teases, and her hair is the same colour as his today as they walk along her neighbourood.
She sits down on a swing set and he takes the one at the side, and they're both trying to out-swing the other so much that they might as well go flying.
(I'm not in it to win it)
I'm in it for you, he smiles, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear. He would've never gotten through the second war and his lycanthrope if it weren't for her. Winning the war would be nice. Losing and a guarantee that he'd be with her?
Better.
(Love, love, love)
'And she loves me back,' he writes, to his best friend, the penmanship impeccable and the writing characteristicaly neat.
'That's enough for me.'
{end.}
