Salamander eyes

The funeral

She gazed up at his beautiful, freckeld face, meeting his loving stare, "Salamander's eyes?" He questioned and they both broke into a burst of sad giggles, at an attempt to make light of the situation. It was the evening after Rolf's Grandfather's funeral.

"Oh my love," The girl sighed, glancing back up at her Husband,
"We shall miss him so much,"
He reached into her long, platinum and tangled hair and pulled a paint brush from amongst her curls, letting them fall to frame her face. He sighed too.
"I know we will my darling..." He stroked her hair, "...But he is still with us, in our hearts...and our beautiful children," He smiled his Grandfather's crooked smile, then kissed her lightly on her forehead.

Behind Luna, on an easel, stood a canvas, partly painted with pretty and mysterious colours. The outlines of a charming, old wizard had started taking shape.
"You know he'd have loved to see your painting, Loony," He smiled, his eyes sparkling with pride,
"He really would have," She agreed, and picturing Newt's warm face, she glided back over to it.

Rolf took the brush from behind his ear, where he'd put it earlier, and handed it back to his Wife. Who was now standing infront of the painting, eyes glazing over what she had already done.
"What a marvelous Wizard he was," She spoke, almost to herself, as she painted some more. Beginning to add in his toffee brown hair and magizoologist attire.
She made sure to feature Pickett, his Bowtruckle and his plump little Niffler, Teddy. She featured many more of his loving creatures, painting them in movement as they burst out of his briefcase. Tears pricked at her eyes.
"Oh how I wish he could have made it to his Birthday," She breathed, streaking lashes and lashes of colour all over.
For this was to be his present, a non-magic, non-moving, traditional muggle painting, developed with love and time. He was due to turn 120 on the 24th, missing it by only five days.

Just then there came a tap at the window, two glowing, orange circles peered in. Rolf opened the window, and in flew their gorgeous owl. A piece of parchment was tied onto its leg, fingerprints of earth were all over the back and the sweet smell of cut grass swam from it. That could mean only one thing, it was from the childrens' Godfather, of whom they were staying with all the while the funeral was happening. Rolf untied the paper and brought it over to read with Luna.

"Dearest Luna and Rolf,

Lorcan and Lysander are having a whale of a time with me here at Hogwarts, I've been teaching them all the basics of Herbology, they are real masters at it. I think my attempt to cheer them up has worked a treat. Yet they are still incredibly forlorn, your Grandfather was a massive influence to them you know. They say hello, and hope you are doing fine, I'll bring them back as soon as I can. They are desperately nagging me to apparate with them back to you instead of travelling in a civilised fashion. We will have to wait and see, just a warning if we suddenly turn up by apparition.
I'm planning on bringing them home by the Floo network tomorrow (22nd of February).
I'll leave it until then to fully catch up with you. I really do hope you are doing okay. I send my condolences.

Your friend,
Neville

Proffessor Longbottom."

Rolf rolled the beige parchment back up, placed it onto the kitchen table and wiped his earth-stained hands upon his trousers.
"I'm glad the twins are having fun," He marvelled, now wandering to the sink.
"Neville is utterly amazing with kids," He glanced over at Luna.
"Mhmm," She muttered, absorbed in her work,
"What shade do you think I should paint Grandpa's eyes, more of a grey-blue or grey-green?" She tilted her head so that she was looking at the canvas sideways.
"Grey-blue, definitely," Her Husband replied, turning the handle of the tap. He gazed out of the window, out at the star-lit sky. The night was remarkably clear. Black silhouettes of horse like creatures roamed the ground outside, he had not yet gotten used to seeing them. His Wife would go out to pet them each morning, feeding them scraps of food, for she had been seeing these creatures for years, since she was only Nine years of age, that was when her Mother had passed. This was one of the first deaths of which Rolf had witnessed. Now that he finally sees the Thestrals he understands his Wife's closeness to them. Really misunderstood creatures.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur.

The sun shone through the teal blue curtains, piercing tiny holes of light through. The murals on the ceiling looked vibrant against the gold glow. Their ginger cat was curled up tightly in a ball at the foot of the bed, snoozing soundly in the warmth of the sun.
Luna sat at her dressing table combing through her tangle of hair.