Epilogue:
About one year later:
"Now, are you absolutely sure about this?" Theo clutched Pansy's hands. "If you're not, just say the word, and we'll blow this taco stand."
"Theo, darling. I can assure you with all certainty that by the end of the night, something will be getting blown, but it won't be a taco stand. It'll be my husband," came her reply. Theo's eyes glinted, but they were mercifully saved from a predictably and equally uncouth response when the harmonious sound of the string quartet filled the air. Nervously, Pansy straightened the skirt of her stunning mermaid-cut gown with a tattoo-effect lace back and exhaled a deep breath.
Pansy looked at the three men standing before her and felt a sudden surge of affection for them. The four of them had been inseparable practically since birth and had lived through unspeakable horrors together. And on this day, her wedding day, she could think of no one better to stand beside her than those three, even with Theo's false reluctance to let her marry the 'tall drink of carrot juice'.
With a nod from Pansy, Blaise turned and walked purposefully down the black-carpeted aisle. Draco was second, and he winked at Pansy before sauntering casually down the aisle a few feet behind Blaise.
"Are you sure you don't want anyone to give you away? You know I loathe the idea of giving you away to that half-sucked Cheeto of a human, but as your man of honour, I feel I should at least offer -" Theo asked quietly, still gripping her hand.
Like most young girls from pureblood families, Pansy had often thought about her wedding day. For so long, she had been told she would be Lady Pansy Malfoy that it never occurred to her to consider anyone but Draco standing and waiting for her at the altar. Never in a million years, had Pansy ever thought that she would be here. Yes, Draco would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle, but she would not wake up tomorrow as Draco's wife. Her parents were quietly disapproving of the marriage, and so, while they were present at the wedding, Pansy was determined that she would walk down the aisle alone.
Pansy shook her head. "You and I both know that you simply couldn't do without me. Having you give me away to anyone is just not an option." Her voice was barely a whisper at the end, and her chin trembled slightly. Determined not to be overwhelmed by insolent tears, Pansy cleared her throat and reset her features, as though fitting a mask back in place. "Go, Theodore."
"You look beautiful, my wretched queen." Theo touched her cheek and headed toward the altar.
Soon the congregation arose from their seats, awaiting her arrival. At the end of the aisle, under an arbour of white roses and peonies, was Ron Weasley. The man who had seen past her granite exterior to the woman beneath. It started as a drunken fumble after running into each other on a night out. It gradually became regular sex (Ron's prowess at cunnilingus had been passable at best but he made up for it in enthusiasm and besides, Pansy Parkinson was no quitter). Still, she found herself craving his company more and more after every time she made him leave. Pansy had been all at once resentful and intrigued by how much she began to want him around. He knew she was guarded and he loved her anyway. God only knows she tried not to love him back, and she put up a hell of a fight. But then she realised that she'd run out of reasons to object, and she let herself fall in love.
She didn't blame her parents for not understanding. After all, their marriage began as an arrangement and hadn't progressed after more than three decades together. They couldn't understand what it meant to marry someone for love rather than prestige or strategy. She knew they were there, her mother playing the part of the mother of the bride dutifully, but this, the most important walk of her life, Pansy would do on her own. With a determined lift of her chin, she gripped the small bouquet of peonies and took her first step towards the rest of her life.
Blaise scanned the crowd as Pansy walked down the aisle, his eyes searching for that familiar head of blonde hair. He soon spotted it, and he didn't bother hiding his smug smile.
Luna Lovegood was a puzzle; a dichotomy of eccentricity and fierceness. People who choose only to take others at face value had always been quick to dismiss Luna's dream-like serenity as simple-mindedness and lunacy. What they never saw was a steadfast resilience that was Blaise's oasis in times of his emotional turmoil - his oft-times crippling anxiety a well-kept secret that precious few knew about.
Blaise had grown up with a revolving door of stepfathers and a mother who took for granted that her son would just know that she loved him. His mother had completely underestimated the importance of needing security, and it left Blaise with a sense of unrest and disquiet that followed him throughout his teenage years like a shadow. He'd learned to manage his anxiety as he grew into adulthood and the debilitating attacks became less and less. Blaise had curated a persona of outward perfection – his appearance the one thing he could control. His striking good looks and perfect wardrobe were well-documented and were matched only by his stellar reputation in the legal world.
To the outside world, Blaise Zabini was untouchable. Few knew his internal struggle.
The first time Luna had witnessed Blaise's anxiety attacks had occurred a few months into their relationship. As oftentimes with anxiety, it was borne from stress. He'd been handling a lawsuit that required frequent travel between his London and New York offices, and the fatigue was wearing him down. Luna had Floo'd to his home one evening to find him huddled on the floor of his bathroom, shaking and hyperventilating. Consumed by exhaustion, Blaise had succumbed to negative thoughts about his incompetence and all the ways he was failing. His anxiety had gotten the better of him, but without a second thought, Luna had swept in and taken care of him.
For the first time in his life, Blaise had someone to take care of him. All those years, he never knew he needed the security of a love that was just for him and no one else. The thought that his carefully crafted façade was crumbling embarrassed him, but in her typical Luna way, she'd assuaged his fears and reassured him that she didn't love him for his image but his heart.
"You accept me as I am. I accept you as you are," Luna had said, then followed the statement with what would become their catch-phrase, their signature for when the other needed reassurance. "You are my favourite person."
That was the truth. Her father had never quite recovered from the loss of her mother, and Luna had assumed a caretaker role for him from an early age. It wasn't Luna's way to be resentful, and she loved her father, dearly. But she'd never known what it meant to have someone show up for her. She always had to be the strong one. Blaise's anxiety attack had been a bad one, she knew. She'd learned a thing or two from supporting her father through his anxiety. Luna couldn't deny the flicker of doubt she felt when she realised Blaise suffered from the same disorder. But Blaise was different. His anxiety didn't define him, and it didn't rule his life. It didn't stop him from suiting up every day and living out his potential. Some days were easier than others to put one foot in front of the other, but he did it. Luna knew that it would be different with Blaise. She'd be his lover, his friend, his cheerleader, but not his carer. Blaise wanted her nearby because he loved her and enjoyed her presence, not because he couldn't function without her. He didn't dismiss her quirkiness or try to change it. He accepted her fully and was strong for her in ways she never knew she needed.
Years of being isolated from her schoolmates taught Luna to be resilient and independent. She didn't need Blaise to make her happy. She did that all on her own. But she certainly loved to have him around. She loved the bubble they had created for themselves that until a few weeks ago, no one else could share.
As she watched Pansy pass by her, Luna looked up and caught Blaise's eye. Her hand drifted instinctively to her belly, and the pair shared a secret smile. Their bubble was going to get a little bigger. One day soon, they would share the news, but for now, it was just for them.
The ceremony had been beautiful. Even Ginny had gotten emotional. She had sat between Charlie and Bill, the three surreptitiously nudging each other every time another leg of their bets paid out. Their mother crying before Pansy had even made it to the altar had paid out twenty-five galleons. Ron dropping a 'bloody hell' when trying to fit the ring on Pansy's figure had earned another tidy twenty-five galleons, and Harry had to push his glasses up his nose seven times throughout his best man speech for her to collect another fifty.
Five down. She was only two nudges away from cleaning up.
There was a curiousness to this wedding that Ginny couldn't quite place. Nothing ill-willed, it was just something. She'd thought about it a lot since Ron and Pansy surprised them all with the news of their engagement.
The wedding was held at the Burrow. One of the pastures beyond the house had been charmed into a stunning outdoor room. 'Rustic elegance' had been Pansy's strict design brief for the occasion, which consisted of flowers fucking everywhere, wood, burlap and strings of exposed lightbulbs. All in all, it was beautiful.
"Traditionally, I would take this moment to comment on the bridesmaids and how beautiful they all look today. The man of honour is alright. But if I'm honest, the other two are ugly bastards." A peal of laughter from the guests interrupted Ginny's thoughts. Harry pushed his glasses up his nose once again and continued his speech.
One more, she silently cheered him. Was he the reason she felt this strangeness? Harry had felt unavoidable to her for so long until he wasn't. Her Quidditch career was derailed by a severe concussion that left her with BPPV, a type of vertigo that rendered her unable to fly a broom. She was devastated, and Harry had been there to help her rebuild a life after playing. She began reporting for The Daily Prophet as a Quidditch correspondent but had soon been lured into representing a few Harpies players as their manager. She took to the role like a duck to water, and her portfolio quickly expanded to include several international players. Her agents' career had taken Ginny across the world and away from Harry. It had taken her by surprise at how easy it had been for her to leave him so often.
Ginny needed her freedom. It was what she'd loved most about Quidditch. She'd grown up surrounded by people all her life, but with Quidditch, it was her and her broom. Her career was just hers and hers alone, and she loved the solitude. Ginny felt tethered by her relationship with Harry. But Harry was her first love, and they'd survived a war together. How could she walk away from that?
Something else had changed for them after Harry accompanied Ginny to a Harpies event, and he met Theo Nott. She could see it in his eyes. She hadn't been Harry's for a long time, and now because of an innocuous meeting with a guy he barely knew, Harry was no longer hers either. They tried for a while to make it work, but ultimately, the distance between them – emotional and physical - was too much to overcome, and they had lost their reason to fight for it. Theirs was an amicable break-up, and Ginny felt free once again.
When Ginny looked around at the other wedding guests, she could see Harry looking down the table to Theo, the man he loved more than he'd ever loved Ginny. Ron and Pansy were holding hands beneath the table, although from the dreamy look on Ron's face, it wasn't a stretch to imagine that Pansy was holding something else entirely. On Harry's left sat Hermione, with tears streaming down her face. From further down the table on Theo's right was Draco, who charmed the white handkerchief from his jacket pocket into a crane and blew it over to her. Corny bastard, Ginny thought. Blaise wasn't paying attention to anyone but Luna, who was seated one table over, curiously sipping water.
All in all, Ginny could easily imagine that this could have been her life, her wedding day, but it wasn't. What was strange about it was that all she felt was a relief. With a final nudge of his glasses, Harry raised his glass to toast to Ron and Pansy. As she raised her drink, she caught the eye of Oliver Wood, and he fixed her with a look of sheer carnality. Ginny grinned triumphantly. It had been a while since she'd shagged anyone in her childhood bed. Ginny tipped back the rest of her drink, content in the freedom that came with knowing that 100 galleons weren't the only thing she'd score tonight.
"Aren't you supposed to be sitting with the rest of the bridesmaids during this part?" Harry murmured as Theo slid into the seat that Ron had just vacated. The bride and groom were making their way to the centre of the dancefloor for their first dance.
"Yes, because this wedding is all about observing tradition," Theo replied, his arm coming to rest across the back of Harry's chair. He'd never tell Harry, but his favourite feeling in the world was when Harry placed his hand on Theo's leg, just like he did at that moment.
Theo had always considered the statement "when you know, you know" to be a horrible cliché. But when it came to his love for Harry, it was true. Theo's sexual preference was never a thing he consciously thought about. He just assumed he was straight because he typically found girls attractive. He'd grown into his lankiness and had no shortage of female admirers. When Theo met Harry again at the Harpies game, he had shaken Harry's hand and apologised for his part in the war. Their connection had been instantaneous but hadn't been some existential reworking of everything Theo had ever known about his perceptions of love. It had been the opposite. His hand still in Harry's, Theo had looked at him and simply thought, "oh, there you are." It took Harry a while to come around to his feelings, but once he decided to stop fucking around, Theo simply gave up the litany of women he'd amused himself with, and that was that.
Theo studied Harry's side profile for a moment, admiring the slight bump in his nose and his strong jawline, covered in a neat stubble. The light grey of his suit jacket offsetting the green of his eyes. His brow was furrowed as it always when he was concentrating, though what he was so focussed on was unclear. The guests let out a small cheer as Ron spun Pansy and then dipped her dramatically, the bride laughing gleefully. Theo felt a pat on his shoulder as Draco slipped behind him. He took Granger's hand and guided her to the dancefloor, followed by Blaise and Luna. Theo leaned closer to Harry's ear.
"Should we join them?" he asked. Harry laughed and shook his head. "Are you ashamed of me, Potter?"
Instantly, Harry turned and grabbed the sides of Theo's face. He pressed his lips firmly to Theo's and held the kiss for a long time. "Even with your woeful inability to pass a cemetery without a making a "dead centre of town" joke, I will never be ashamed of you, Theo," Harry assured him, kissing him once more for emphasis.
"I am very punny," Theo agreed.
"You are an idiot." Harry turned back to the other dancing couples. Blaise and Luna were occupying a distant corner of the dancefloor, away from everyone else. Draco and Granger were off to one side, her hands gripping the lapels of his light grey suit jacket, frowning at each other as they engaged in an animated conversation.
"Ten galleons says they're arguing," said Harry. Theo snorted disdainfully.
"No dice. Arguing is foreplay to them. I've never known a couple to switch between wanting to strangle one another to rampant declarations of love the way they do." As if to prove Theo's point, Draco had slid his hands down to grip Granger's arse through her dark green satin dress and kissed her deeply. Harry laughed and placed his hand on Theo's leg once more. The song changed once again, this one to a Muggle song that Theo didn't recognise but Harry did.
"I like this song," he murmured, looking sideways at Theo. "Reminds me of us."
Theo listened intently to John Mayer's version of XO, with Harry's eyes still trained on the side of his face. Eventually, Harry turned away to look at Ron and Pansy. "Do you think that could be us one day?" Harry asked pensively.
"Married?" Theo replied. Harry answered with a nod. "Is that what you want?"
"Yeah, I do," Harry responded.
"Then one day, we will."
And that was that.
One week after the wedding.
Draco was not listening to Granger, at all. She was singing away to her favourite Stevie Wonder song, oblivious to the fact that his attention was elsewhere.
You have done what no one thought could be 'cause you've brought some joy inside my tears.
They'd moved in together two months earlier, and since then something had shifted between them. Draco knew what it was. He just needed to act on it now.
Before he'd invited Granger to move in with him, he had spoken to his mother. In her typical manner, Narcissa had just smiled knowingly. Sitting him down in her private drawing room adjacent to the bedroom she'd once shared with her late husband, Narcissa spoke earnestly to Draco about how it felt to find The One.
"When you find the one, they become such a part of you that you can't imagine yourself without their presence. The one will challenge the truths of the lessons you have learned about your value and will teach you what you want and don't want for yourself. But meeting the one doesn't feel like a frenzy; there is a sense of peace and calmness. It transcends reason and sense, but there's an overwhelming feeling of rightness."
Draco had been quiet for a moment. "Is it moving too fast?"
Narcissa had raised her brow at him dubiously. "Since when have you cared what anyone else thinks?"
She had a point. "Things are perfect with Granger. What if this fucks everything up?"
"Language," Narcissa admonished. "Draco, darling, stop. You're overthinking it." She patted his knee and from her pocket, produced a small item that she placed on the coffee table between them. "One day, when you're ready, I want you to come to me again. And this will be here waiting for you when you do."
Hermione had been cleaning the last of the dinner dishes. All through dinner, Draco had been preoccupied, so she'd opted to wash the dishes the Muggle way to give him some space. From her vantage point in the kitchen, Hermione could see Draco sitting stiffly in the lounge, his hands steepled in front of his mouth. With a sigh, she carefully placed the last plate into the drawer and tossed the tea towel onto the marble countertop. He finally looked up at her when she sat on the edge of the coffee table before him.
"You're distracted," Hermione said simply.
Draco sighed. "Yeah, I'm sorry."
"It's okay," she reassured him. "Anything you want to talk about?"
The intensity in his eyes took her breath away, and for a moment, she felt her panicked heart fluttering in her chest.
"You know I love you, don't you?" Draco reached out to grab her hand.
"Yes, of course, I do," she nodded. Hermione's eyes frantically searched his face for a clue into where this conversation was going. He took her other hand in his and squeezed.
The song continued to play softly in the background. I feel that lasting moments are coming far and few between so I should tell you of the happiness that you bring.
He sighed again. "It's nothing. You can take the first shower; I'm just going to read up on some stuff for work for a bit." He bent down and kissed Hermione, releasing her hands. With a frown creasing her beautiful face, she reached up and stroked Draco's face for a moment before disappearing into their bathroom. Draco listened intently for the sound of the shower before setting to work. First thing was to Floo call his mother.
Ten minutes later, Hermione emerged from the shower, dressed in navy satin shortie pyjamas. With a shocked gasp, she realised that Draco had transformed their living room. Small groups of rose-scented candles lay scattered around the room, among vases of pale pink and white roses. In the centre of the room stood Draco. He held out his hand to her.
With shaking breath, Hermione approached him. "What's going on?" she whispered.
"I have few memories from before Hogwarts, and I wonder if that's because I woke up when I met you. I think the universe sends us people at a certain time in our life because they're meant for us in some way. The impact you have had on every facet of my life has been overwhelming, and it's only when I look back at it now that I can say that your influence has made me the man I am."
Draco didn't take his eyes off hers even as he reached into his pocket for a small black box.
"You asked me once why I always call you Granger, and I never told you the real reason why. I would call you Granger until you became a Malfoy."
Granger's eyes were glistening with unshed tears as he opened the box to reveal a stunning diamond ring, and she let out a tiny sob as he slid to one knee.
"Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?"
"Yes, Draco. A million times, yes. I'll marry you."
Theirs wasn't a love story where boy meets girl, and they fall in love. Theirs was a story of bitter hatred that gave way to forgiveness. Their journey to getting to know one another as equals had changed them both unequivocally, and the day Granger stood in her boss's office and told Shacklebolt that she would choose Draco was the day Draco decided that he would marry this woman.
There wasn't a version of her future that Hermione could envision that didn't have Draco in it. He had kept his promise to her that he would challenge her every step of the way, but there hadn't been a day go by that he didn't make sure she knew how much he adored her. And in turn, Draco took on each day with the wind in his back because he had Granger. She was his most formidable competitor and his loudest cheerleader. He was the love of her life.
Draco gently eased his grandmother's emerald cut diamond ring onto Granger's finger, and she dropped to her knees before him and kissed him deeply.
Theirs hadn't been an easy love, but it was the forever kind.
