Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this story nor make any profit from their use. All belongs to JK Rowling.
Author's Note: Post-war AU, rating for some sexy time. Mostly fluff with a bit of tragedy.
The Spectrum of a Rainbow
It's blue the first time he kisses her.
The attraction has been building for some time. Their friendship starts slightly unequally during the war when he is only half-grown, but it deepens as they become coworkers as well as friends, spending as much time together outside of work as they do at the Ministry. She makes him laugh, and she's there for him after every breakup, bad case, and anniversaries of battles. The feelings develop from platonic to romantic quite naturally, no sudden catalyst to make them change overnight.
He never quite understands how she chooses her colors, even though she patiently tries to explain it. Sometimes it's to match certain clothes, and sometimes it's simply a reflection of her mood. As a joke he buys her one of those mood rings that were so popular in the 1970s. Laughing, she slips it on her finger, and when the stone turns blue, she changes her hair to match. He consults the guide, which says blue means content and relaxed. She says she's content because she's with him, and so he curves a hand around her neck and presses his lips to hers.
When they part, slightly breathless and both practically glowing, the blue on the ring has deepened, but her hair shines to a near electric shade. They laugh and kiss again.
It's yellow when he tells her he loves her.
It's one of those rare ridiculously flawless days of spring, complete with warm temperatures and fluffy white clouds in a blue sky and birds chirping and sun shining and just enough breeze to feel it on skin and in hair. They go on a picnic, and she wears a brightly flowered sundress, showing off long tanned legs to contrast with his, pale and hairy, visible past shorts he rarely wears. Her hair is so blonde it's yellow, kissed by the sun, and it falls over her shoulders in loose curls.
He stretches out on his back on a blanket while she props herself up on one elbow next to him, dropping grapes in his mouth and leaning down for a kiss with every other one, licking his nose once or twice to make him laugh. One bare foot teases his leg, and she smiles a smile of pure happiness, dimples in full view and the sun peeking through her hair. She is so beautiful at this moment that his heart nearly stops.
He has been planning for the perfect moment, but it comes out suddenly. Her next grape drops on his forehead in surprise, but it's forgotten as soon as she repeats those three blessed words. He pulls her down for a kiss, and it must be said that the poor grape is likely squished beneath them.
It's red for the first fight.
Though not always, they do occasionally work side by side, and it's one of those cases that precipitates the fight. It's been building for a while as they delve deeper and deeper into the mystery, trying to stop the killer before he strikes again. Stress replaces bliss.
Finally they think they've located his hideout, and as the one with seniority, she leads the strike team. He's always loved to watch her in battle, for she seems so alive, and watching her take someone down is an incredible turn-on. But this time he's not by her side, and so it's different. She splits them up to flank the manor they are assaulting, but he can't stand not knowing what's happening to her, so in one of his reckless moves he leaves his teammates and fights his way through to the other wing.
She's in the middle of a duel with their very target, a man known to be extremely dangerous. His curse strikes the man full on the back, and her face is astonished and scared when she sees him after the man falls. He never hears her shout of warning, and it's too late when a searing pain hits his shoulder.
She is at his bedside when he wakes up at St. Mungo's, stroking his hand. There are tears in her eyes when she calls for the Healer, who assures both of them he will make a full recovery with no lasting effects. She thanks the Healer and closes the door.
Then she lets him have it. Her hair is on fire, such a red it's closer to crimson than ginger. He is treated to a dressing-down he hasn't seen her give anyone since he was a first-year trainee, and he vividly recalls that she is perfectly capable of striking the fear of God into someone twice her size. She forces him to put himself in her place, and he is appropriately regretful, realizing his mistake and what he put her through. It's still red when they kiss and make up.
It's white when they make love for the first time.
The relationship moves slowly, deciding to savor each moment in favor of rushing things before they're ready. Finally they admit they can't wait anymore. The evening is ideal. It starts out with a dozen white roses and a fancy dinner at her favorite Italian place, he in a suit and she in a little black dress. They share dessert, taking turns feeding each other bites of a chocolate torte.
The paparazzi are there as they leave, like always, but even they can't ruin the night. She has learned how to deal with them easily, unlike his previous girlfriends. Ginny liked the cameras a little too much, posing until he had to drag her away. Hermione was incredibly uncomfortable, sometimes refusing to go out. Luna was intrigued, often stopping to talk to this or that onlooker about the oddest subjects. But she strikes the right balance, giving them what they want while not letting them get in her way. She smiles coquettishly but never stops, slipping through the crowd with ease.
At his house he prepares a fire in the huge fireplace, placing a blanket on the thick rug in front of it. They sit and talk quietly while sipping wine until the moment becomes right. They are in no hurry, removing one piece of clothing at a time. When he stands behind her, pressing his lips to her shoulders as he unzips her dress, he can barely keep his hands from shaking, harking back to all the headiness of an inexperienced teenager again in his desire for perfection.
They make love leisurely, worshipping every inch of skin. As she relaxes, her control slips, and he adores her few imperfections, from the freckles on her nose to the star-shaped scar on her hip, a remnant from the Department of Mysteries. They lock eyes as they move together in front of the dancing flames, forgoing the contact of their lips, parted in ecstasy, in favor of better molding their bodies together. When she finally loses all control, her hair ripples to pure white, and it's that amazing sight that precipitates his own release.
It's green when he proposes.
They've been together for over two years, and everyone is gathered at Grimmauld Place for Christmas, having long since outgrown the Burrow. Everyone they love is here – the Weasleys and all their significant others, the children of the next generation, Luna and her father, Neville and his grandmother, Hermione and her parents, old classmates, coworkers, Kingsley and his family, Remus, Professor McGonagall. And Andromeda, with whom he spoke a week ago, scared out of his wits. She raises her eyebrows when she walks in the door, and he confirms with a nod and a smile.
Always one to look the part, she chooses forest green to match her red jumper in honor of the season. She's laughing with Fleur over something Victoire has lisped when he clears his throat to get the attention of all. He calls for a toast, and as everyone scrambles for a glass of their chosen beverage, she moves to his side, slipping one arm around his waist with practiced ease and managing to spill her wine with the other. He thanks everyone for coming, says a few words for those they miss, and then he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves.
Sinking to one knee, he pulls the black velvet box out of his pocket and opens it to reveal a modest diamond ring. Her eyes are wider than he's ever seen, and her mouth opens slightly while he delivers his oft-practiced speech. She leaves him hanging for an infinite heartbeat, patently struggling to speak, and then she sends him spiraling into the stratosphere with one shaky word.
He spins her around with unspeakable joy while their loved ones cheer, Molly, Hermione, and Andromeda teary-eyed and beaming, and after he slips the ring on her left hand, they kiss, completely forgetting about their audience.
It's pink on the day of their wedding.
He is so nervous he fumbles with his tie until Arthur takes pity and fixes it for him. Ron, Neville, and Charlie, his groomsmen, tease him with one last chance to back out, but he wants none of it. She is his dream. He's more afraid that she will wake up and realize that she's too good for him.
He smiles as Amy, her best friend, Hermione, and Fleur, the bridesmaids, glide toward them as the men wait at the altar. He grins in amusement as Dominique, the flower girl, loses interest halfway down and dumps her basket on the ground, toddling over to her father, ignoring Ron and Charlie's calls. And then he looks up and sees her with Kingsley, who is walking her down the aisle, and his jaw drops.
She is a vision of white topped with pink, and they are the only two in the room. Like a dream, the seemingly-disembodied voice of the minister walks them through the ceremony. Tears fall freely down her face, but she says her vows in a clear voice. He stammers through his own as he struggles unsuccessfully not to let any tears slip. When they lean in for that one significant kiss, he feels like he's kissing her for the first time again.
It's brown when their first child is born.
At first she can't morph out of fear it will endanger the baby, but she doesn't mind, beaming even as she slumps next to the toilet. Excited is not a strong enough word to describe the two expectant parents. Toward the end she is too exhausted to morph, and so her hair is left its natural brown. After nine months of talking to an increasingly protuberant stomach and demands for butter pecan ice cream at two a.m. and inexplicable tears because it's raining and she wants to take a walk, one night they rush to the hospital, confident they are about to have a baby.
Even magic can't always supersede nature, and after twenty hours of labor she is begging for them to get the monster, a half-affectionate half-frustrated nickname she chose early on, out of her swollen belly. Eventually the child decides to make an appearance, and while Andromeda stays by her side, wincing with each painful clench of the hand, he ceases smoothing her brown hair to witness the birth firsthand.
Knowing she'll never stop taking the mickey if he faints, he has to sit down to prevent it. His son is the most perfect, most beautiful, loudest ball of red he's ever seen, and it's love at first sight. When James Theodore, green of eye and brown of hair, is placed into his arms, he finally understands why she was always so terrified that she would drop their baby. It is equally the scariest and happiest moment of his life, and as he returns his son to his waiting mother, he wonders how he will ever thank her for this amazing gift.
It's black at the darkest point of their lives.
They try and try to make a sibling for James Theodore, and when they are finally successful, they are over the moon. Their sturdy toddler is moved to a new room with a new, bigger bed, and the nursery is quickly prepared for an infant once again, all bright colors and nappies and tiny clothes.
And then something goes horribly wrong. They are given the usual scientific answers, but all they hear in their haze of despair is that their baby is gone, and that's all they need to know. He realizes that he's never seen black on her before, but it suits her at this point in time, and it's her choice anyway. Andromeda takes her cranky grandson for a few days, and they are left alone with their grief and pain.
She breaks first, and he holds her in his lap like a child while she sobs. She blames herself, even though they've been told it couldn't be helped, and the only times he speaks are to stop her from saying such things. Otherwise he lets her cry herself out. Later while she's in bed, he makes his way to the nursery, where he clenches the railing of the crib and tries to muffle his own sobs with his fist. Because she is his other half, she knows, and she sits in the rocking chair and strokes his hair in her lap while he cries like he never has before. For the first and last time, their hair matches.
It's purple when they meet their first grandchild.
He now knows why Arthur and Molly were so excited about Victoire and all the subsequent Weasleys, for having a grandchild is a new and interesting experience. They patiently coach their son and his wife, Rose, Charlie and Hermione's eldest, assuring them repeatedly they will be great parents.
In the waiting room he teases her that purple isn't appropriate for a grandmother. But purple is one of her happy colors, and she is nothing but happy at this moment. So she tells him that she'll look old when she feels old, grinning that grin that always seems like it belongs on a mischievous teenager, and all he can do is kiss her. He lingers, ignoring the mortified protests of Abby, their youngest.
As he can so clearly remember, first babies take a long time, but finally James walks out with a tiny slumbering bundle in his arms, a look of rapture on his face. She beams at him with joy as they exclaim over their grandchild, and their shared pride triples when not only is it revealed that his name is Charles Harry but also when the small tuft of hair on his head turns bright purple.
It's gray when he says goodbye.
They have been slowing down for a long time, and she doesn't morph nearly as often anymore, saving her energy to entertain their great-great-grandchildren. The pig nose is still a favorite.
They have lived long, full lives and so they beg all their family, from James Theodore to the newest, little redheaded Dora, not to be sad. It's time. They've seen many go before them, some far too early, and they are tired. Like his parents, he knows that death is not to be feared.
When his time comes, she is the only one there. She holds both his hands, and he can feel the bands around her skin. Two diamond rings on one hand, a cheap mood ring on the other. They kiss, and she promises she'll see him soon.
He wonders what color she'll wear then.