“You know, for being a poor Weasley brat, you have excellent taste in vacationing spots,” he whispered in her ear, as his arms snaked around her torso. She leaned her back into his chest, and he gently kissed her temple.

They stood on the edge of a mountain trail, just outside of Scotland. Ginny had rented out a lighthouse over looking the ocean. They watched the sun sink lower and lower into the horizon, and shivered as the cold sea air blew around them. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

“As cliché as it sounds, I think you’re beautiful,” he whispered back.