28 for ss and my faves willow and harry :)
28. In [x fic], what is a happy, post-fic headcanon you have about [pairing]?
oh victoria....my heart. silver springs was so dramatic and filled with angst and it’s so lovely to picture harry and willow happy :) so, here is something i wrote long ago that i think sums up where i think those two ended up!
Willow had always been a bit foolish when it came to love. Hopelessly idealistic some would say. Times where she had believed love to be easy. Points where she thought if you loved each other enough everything would fall into place. She believed there would be the moment. Where she and Harry would magically find themselves between where they were and happily ever after. The big moment where everything clicked.
A spoon clinked against a mug, breaking through Willow’s thoughts. Bringing her back to her life. Where she stood in an old lilac sweater, bare foot on the cold floors as she watched Harry stir milk into her coffee. In the background there was an old song on the radio. Willow noticed because they hardly ever listened to the radio anymore and because it was a song that always used to play in the pubs back when they were younger.
Sun filtered in through the big windows surrounding the kitchen, giving a glimpse to the garden outside and pale blue skies. Harry stood beside her, in nothing but his pants and his hair standing on end. Tattoos spilled over his skin forming a puzzle Willow knew from memory. He turned, catching her eye as he brought the mug to his mouth. Tired smile breaking over the top. For her, always for her. And Willow wanted to laugh because she had been so foolish.
It had always been there. Whatever happiness and ease Willow had always waited for, searched for. Not in any sweeping moment of clarity. There was no symphony reaching crescendo with violins swelling and drums building. No -no it was quiet, steady. Like an old familiar song. The kind that made you close your eyes and sink into the melody.
Love was this. Small moments throughout all the years. Hands tracing shapes along the other’s spine as they laid in bed. How whoever woke up first always started the coffee and made a cup for the other. Harry slipping his hand into hers whether they were walking to breakfast or walking across a stage in front of thousands. Dancing and spinning around their living room, mouths catching each other’s laughter as it spilled over. The exact way the morning light came into the kitchen. This house -and all the possibilities held in its walls. And that was it. Love did not have a grand defining moment. Love was in the photos they had framed along the wall. Some old, a little faded, younger version of themselves with bright eyes and wide smiles. And beside those were the photos of weddings and babies and the five of them sat at a kitchen table and Harry with his arms around Willow as they stood in front of a new house, with a new blue door. Ten years separating them from those foolish kids who had thrown their hearts together.
i’m chatty, send some writer asks :)
