Chapter 25

Forever

Standing upon the balcony, Hermione took in the scene around her. Twisted pines, jagged rocks, white dunes of sand… and sea, as far as her eyes could reach. It wasn't the type of beach everyone could appreciate, but the wild, raw beauty of this place was everything Hermione could have hoped for. After all they had been through in the past three years, she needed to feel small and insignificant. She needed to be a single speck of sand on a beach with millions. She needed the sound of water and sky, pines stirring in the coastal breeze, and Draco.

She heard him now, as he came to her… felt his warmth as his arms encircled her… as he kissed her hair.

"Good morning," he breathed softly against her neck.

She smiled against the warmth of his breath upon her skin. It had been years since she'd felt this much peace… maybe she'd never felt it quite like this before. Draco's lips brushed softly against her once more, and she knew that he felt it too.

It was better when she was near him – her body against his – but even then, he had never slept well. Her heart had ached every time she'd been jolted awake in his arms. She'd spent many a night kissing away the terrors of his past, holding him so close that there would only be room for her love. This was their second morning in this place, and he had slept as though none of it had ever happened.

Her eyes wandered to the arms around her waist. There was the mark on his left arm, and she couldn't help feeling attached to it now. Draco wouldn't be the man she loved without that mark – without having seen the horrors that had opened his eyes. She thought back to the first time she'd seen it… the first time she'd opened her eyes... the first time she'd really seen him. Letting her hand trace down the length of his arm, she stopped to lace her fingers through his, and the butterflies stirred up inside of her, refusing to settle. She looked into his eyes, her heart still racing from the sight of the platinum band on his finger. She knew it would be months before she was used to seeing it there.

It had been two days since she had become his wife, and she couldn't imagine loving anyone the way she loved him.

The moment the first invitation had been sent out, the Prophet knew every detail of it, and had reported it all with abandon. For two months, she and Draco were trailed by an entourage of reporters, capturing every cake tasting, every bouquet selection, and very nearly barging in on several dress fittings. At last, she had graduated Healer Training and the momentous day was upon them.

Though the invitation had called for a midday ceremony, the reception hall began filling at 8:00 am. Hopeful witches and wizards without invitations queued up with the other guests, and to their shock, no one was turned away. The hall had been magically enlarged to a cavernous size. The puzzled guests sat beside the eager strangers, as they all looked about themselves.

The buzz of inquiry had begun the moment the doors had opened. Where was the aisle? Why weren't all the guests facing in a single direction? The fact was that the reception hall appeared to be set up for… well, a reception. At 10:30 am, musicians arrived and began to play for their entertainment. At 11:00 am, waiters arrived and began serving drinks and hor d'oeuvres, causing a buzz of excitement and scandal. Food and drink before the wedding? Who had ever heard of such a thing?

A hush fell over the crowd as the clock struck 12:00. Everyone craned their necks, looking for some sign of the impending ceremony. Suddenly, four large, white projection screens rose up from the center of the hall, one facing in each direction. The musicians began to play once more.

And then they appeared: Hermione walking toward Draco, a shy smile playing on her lips, her simple white dress flowing softly over white sand. It was a wizard photograph. When it had played through, another took its place. And another.

It wasn't a ceremony at all. The two had already been married on a distant beach, by the looks of it. The crowd stared speechlessly at the screens until the final photograph had played through, and the words, Thank you for sharing in our celebration had faded away.

Blaise Zabini broke the echoing silence that followed with a hearty laugh, and began applauding. Leave it to the Malfoys, he thought, still laughing. The entire hall had burst into applause, laughter and jubilation when they heard him, and were calling for a second viewing of the photographs.

No one was even offended, he realized, looking around him in wonder. They'd found a way to be left in peace, and no one was upset about it. Leave it to the Malfoys, he thought again, with bewildered awe and respect.

He hadn't known if it would work, but not a single uninvited photographer had shown up. Not a single unwanted guest had tried to squeeze themselves into the ceremony. No reporters had buzzed in his ear the moment he'd kissed his bride, asking him how it felt to be a married man.

Instead, he had watched the woman he loved walk toward him, surrounded by people who cared about them. He couldn't have said what she wore, or what flowers she held. All he could see was the smile meant only for him. All he could feel was her hand in his. All he could hear was her promising to belong to him forever.

It had been two days since she'd become his wife, and he had never felt peace like this before. He'd held onto her this morning, as they looked out upon the sea, and thought back on every moment leading up to this. Her fingers tracing the mark on his arm… her eyes saying she trusted him… her hands smoothing the linen bandage against him… that first burning kiss…

She laced her fingers through his and turned in his arms. Her eyes held his, and he felt the same jolt he'd felt two mornings ago, when she'd promised him forever. He had never imagined loving anyone the way he loved her.