peppamintmocha
The future.
My future.
The boy has beautiful blond curls and rosy cheeks. He has piercing gray eyes and large front teeth.
He has his mother's excitement and his father's air of shrewdness, even though he is only four.
He is joy, pure and unadulterated.
Laughter bubbles out of his mouth as he spins in a circle, trying to grab the magical canaries his mother, me, has conjured out of midair, his face alight. She watches him with a look of rapture on her face, contentment making the lines in her face appear graceful, rather than haggard. Behind her, her husband comes up, watching her with a tender expression on his face. His arm settles around her shoulders, his lips on her cheek.
I've never seen anything so disturbing and terrible in my life.
"Hermione," Harry breathed, his voice choked as he stares at my husband, who is now kissing me, unashamedly, on the mouth. "That's Malfoy."