Work Text:
The sun beams down on their garden, the sweet pea blooms complemented by the peachy pink roses and the slightly overwatered hydrangeas. In a nearly cloudless sky, the birds fly up above, singing their songs and dancing their dances, their wings floating through the breeze.
On the table, a natural white linen runner, a centrepiece with carnations and baby's breath, harvested just that morn, placed in a tall handmade ceramic vase Harry had purchased at a farmers market the year before.
They aren't alone. Toddlers are chasing each other like golden snitches in the yard area; a 3-year-old with firey hair stomps her foot and tells the boys to stop, mumbling about a lost flower before seeing a butterfly and becoming distracted.
On the porch: a young couple, one blonde with braids cascading through her lengthy hair, the other with striking red hair sat sideways in her lap, head on her girlfriend's shoulder, lazy smiles traded back and forth as they watch the children tire themselves.
On a blanket: a bushy-haired woman resting a hand on her rounded stomach, barefoot, head in her freckled boyfriend's lap, his gently curly red hair accented with a flower crown matching that of his sister and niece's.
By a garden gate: two polar opposites. One pale-skinned, blond-haired man with his hands on his boyfriend's waist; one tan-skinned, black-haired man with his arms around the other man's shoulders. They sway gently together, crinkles by their eyes, lips meeting between lyrics of the song playing on the mobile radio.
If I was a bluebird, I would fly to you
You'd be the spoon, dip you honey
So I could be stickin' to you
The food sits on the table, pitchers of lemonade in three different flavours (because who was Draco if he didn't go at least a little overboard), the condensation starting to bead in the heat.
Later, they gather together to eat the slightly warm food, and laugh at the sticky mess that their kids become, but right now...
Right now they're good right where they are.