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Bill looked out the window and sighed. “I’m sorry the weather isn’t cooperating. Not quite the birthday trip to Hogwarts I’d intended.”
“Whatever are you apologizing for?” Q asked, a spot of whipped cream clinging to the corner of his mouth. “We have a private carriage, chocolate frogs, butterbeer… this is perfect. Besides, I love a properly grey day.”
“Aren’t there enough of those in London?”
“Not like this. Look at how the mist softens the sky… the light gentles the colours, highlighting both their subtlety and their depth.”
As the train crossed the bridge, Bill returned his gaze to the landscape. He could indeed distinguish a dozen shades of green in the trees and grass and brush below. He looked back to his love, who still hadn’t noticed the whipped cream on his lips, and smiled.
Those greens might be beautiful, but none could match that of Q’s eyes.