A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters
This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Word Count: 618
Amber, it was the color of her eyes when she watching perfect his potions. She would sit on his desk, him standing over one of the lab tables. She'd swing her legs as she watched, asking questions about why he was doing this or that, always wanting to know everything. She'd been curious since he'd met her, since he'd been stupid enough to insult her. She'd proven to be so much more than he'd ever dreamed. Now, she'd finished with flying colors, laughing about how she'd been so nervous about her N.E. . He didn't know why she'd worried. No longer his student, she still came to his lab in her free time. She was going to teach in the fall, ancient runes or arthimancy. She could take either position. He wondered if she'd try to do both at once. She was an overachiever in every sense of the word. Now, she'd set her sights on him, and he knew, in the end, she would get what she wanted. He would never admit to these feelings. He could never admit that she'd changed him, taken the broken bits of him and mended them. He was still healing, both physically and emotionally, but so was she. The war had been hard on the pair of them. He looked up from his cauldron to see her jotting something in her book, a smile on her face. He smiled. Her just being here was more than he'd ever thought to ask for.
Amber was the color of her hair when the sun shone through it just right in the early morning's dawn. They both woke early, him because he couldn't sleep, her because of the nightmares. He always held her until she calmed, held her as she cried about those she'd lost, about the friends who had abandoned her later when her goals no longer aligned with theirs. Those mornings, when neither could fathom going back to sleep, he'd make coffee, pour it into thermos and they'd sneak out of his chambers, sitting at the edge of the lake watching the sunrise together. She'd slide her hand into his, he'd hold it, just watching the sky change from dark to light, a metaphor for how his life had become, she was the light in his darkness, the sunrise in his deepest despair when he woke from the war, still breathing and feeling betrayed by the man he'd once considered a friend.
Amber was the color of the stone set in gold, surrounded by tiny rubies. Amber, the stone, was fossilized tree sap, a reminder of days when everything was different. She loved the stone and he loved her. He'd bought the stone, had it set by a premier jeweler. Nothing but the best for her, she was the best for him. She had become his everything, she'd made him the best version of himself, and for that he could never repay her. This was nothing more than a small token of his love, his devotion. He wanted nothing more to spend the rest of his life with her by his side. The ring felt as though it was burning a hole in his pocket as he waited for the right moment, the perfect time to tell her his deepest feelings, to give her his word that she had, and always would have, his heart.
Amber were her eyes when he opened the velvety box revealing the golden ring inside. It was the color of her hair in the sunrise sitting on the edge of the lake when she said yes, when she threw herself into his arms and kissed him, both knowing they'd found their place in each others lives and hearts.