Lavender hates her body more than anything now. Ragged scars cover her back and stomach where Fenrir Greyback raked his long, sharp, dirty nails along her once-gossamer skin, and it disgusts her. There is also a pink gash on her cheek, though now it is healed -a gross disfigurement upon her face, she thinks. Ugly, ugly, ugly- there are no other words to describe her, at least not in her eyes.

Except Seamus has found some. Really, he's never been at a loss for words to describe Lavender. She's magnificent, glorious, amazing, with or without the blemishes now tainting her soft body. Each scar tells a story, and Lavender's story is worth telling time and time again. She's a brave and beautiful soul, as pretty on the inside as the outside. He loves her, every single bit of her- her appreciation of good Irish beer, her absolute hatred of blueberries, her little button nose, her deep brown eyes. Her freckles. Her inability to rub her head and pat her stomach at the same time (she's tried, and often). Her singing voice, so rarely heard yet clear and high and lovely. How she always leaves the crossword in the Prophet empty so they can do it together after supper. The way she's probably too trusting, but it's just because she sees the best in everyone. Her cascading golden curls. And her delicate body, so soft and plump, is soon to become even rounder, with a child that will bear no scars and marks of battles fought, but will possess Lavender's unlikely courage and definite beauty.

And Seamus cannot wait for the day when he will be able to hold their child in his arms for the first time.