A/N: Thank you guys so much!I raped the semi-colon in this chapter, just a bit. The idea is a little far-fetched and my trains of thought are wacky sometimes, but just try and live through it?

Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans

three: ink

He loves her because she writes him little notes.

They never say anything particularly significant and he never sees her writing them, but he knows she writes them without the proof. It's not the scraps of parchment they're on or the ink they're written with, it's simply the way she writes; he'd know it anywhere.

She curls her g and loops her y and dots her i with a small circle and sometimes he feels, ridiculously enough, as though that writing is all there really is in the world. Sometimes he feels as though that writing is all over him, inside and outside, and he could never get it off, but he never wants to because he enjoys knowing the ink is there on his skin and on his heart and he wants people to see it there like he feels it there.

He knows that if he tried to explain these feelings to her, she would laugh and smile and shake her head at his strange thoughts, like she always does when he has them. He knows that she'll never accept his ideas; he knows that she'll never entirely dismiss them, and, for now, that is enough to satisfy him.

In the back of his mind, he knows that she feels the ink too.

He knows because she is Lily Evans, and he is always with her as she is always with him, even when they're apart, and he loves her for it.