A/N:

Fun, fun, fun a Daphne/Theo Fluff, I don't really know what perspective this is, I guess its someone kind of describing Theo's emotions, whenever it says you, it means Theo so yeah.

No beta, twenty minute story, no challenge or anything, just an inspiration. Read and review

xo

You hear the melodic laughter coming from your beautiful wives mouth, the soft chink as her polished glass wine cup gently hits the marble stoned bench tops, you marvel at how happy she is here, here in your manor, the Nott family manor, something you inherited from your father, after he died.

Your wife brushes her long blonde hair out of her face, sweeping it all up behind her into a lose casual ponytail with a black hair tie, before she continues talking to the guests of your welcoming dinner party. You only just got married, Blaise and Draco warned you, it was the biggest commitment you could make in your life, you didn't care, and you wanted to commit to her, to Daphne Greengrass, now Daphne Nott. You wrapped your arms around her waist, kissing her hair affectionately, the strong scent of sandalwood filled your nostrils, along with honeysuckle, and she entwined her hand with yours, her finger heavily adorned with the exquisite wedding and engagement ring you bought her. The incrusted rubies entwined, matching with your golden band. You matched perfectly.

Your mother, finishes drying the dishes with your wife, oh how you love too say that word… it meant she was yours, you belonged together. Though they could use magic, they don't want to… after the war, it changed them… their blood prejudice left, along with misusing house-elves and magic, they ate with the house elves, socialised with old Gryffindor's and only used magic when necessary.

Harry and his oldest son James were last to leave, Ginny and the other two had left to go to bed hours beforehand, after he leaves you go back to Daphne, and help her put away the plates, your hand brushes hers whilst you reach for the same ivory fork, you feel the same spark, tingle that you did when you first met her. She turns around smiling ever so slightly, drying the pristine bench tops. You pop open the goblin made aged wine, and pour its sparkling contents into two round wine glasses; she sits down facing you, fidgeting with her wedding ring; like she does whenever she wants to kiss you.

You gulp down your wine quicker than necessary, and kiss her perfect lips, coated with that familiar pearl sheen of her favourite gloss. Only shortly, only sweetly. She hastily grabs a napkin, removing her face from all traces of makeup; she knows you only like her naturally. She's beautiful enough as it is.

She peers at you intently, taking in all of your graceful features with her big, orb shaped, deep blue eyes. She's so beautiful, that to ignore her beauty would be a crime, and beauty and grace ooze out of her every pore, effortlessly. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable sitting there, sure she wasn't exactly innocent, in the sense, she had more than enough fun at Hogwarts, but she had settled down, and was a classical and defined woman, that people respected, envied and lusted for. She hadn't been cruel at school, more like the rest of the purebloods, prejudice. Now when she looked at any young half blood, she would smile the care and compassion lighting up beneath her eyes.

You lean forward and brush away that lose blonde strand; she bites her lip, her eyes lingering on your mouth, and gently grasps your hand, her long spindly fingers catching amidst your own. You gaze at her longingly, unlike any of the other girls you had dated through school, she kept you waiting, in sultry, she was good at that. She wasn't one to automatically loose her clothes in a matter of minutes, she preferred to hold onto you, and fall asleep, not ever wanting to move. When she hugged you, her head fitted perfectly beneath your chin, she would rest against your Quidditch toned chest, her arms, not quite fitting around your back, though, with how thin she was, your arms could easily wrap around her, which gave her the illusion, he was rescuing her, saving her… which in a way he was, he was saving her from her own malice and judgment, her old ways, too much firewhisky, and hardly any clothes.

She loved him, and he loved her.

She heard her favourite song flicker on to your radio system, she grabbed your hand and lifted you up, with a graceful flutter she was in your arms, swaying to the rhythm of the tune, she was so poised, and delicate. You lifted up her chin, and stared deep into her eyes, you treasured intimate moments like this.

She tiptoed up, and whispered into your ear,

"I love you, Theodore Nott."

"And I love you Daphne Greengrass"

"Daphne Nott," she quickly corrected you.

You laugh, and give her back a reassuring stroke, before you are lost into a blissful kiss, that makes your head pound and heart spin, the same way it did back in seventh year. You are impeccably in love with Daphne, Daphne Nott