After everything: after burning bodies and dungeon mold, Imperius curses and fights for our lives, I finally - viscerally, experientially - understand the benefits of occluding.

It's too much to remember. The memories only moments old are hard and cold and clean. The crisp snap of bone beneath the blade. The jerk of his body as the blood runs dry.

It's too much to take in. The feelings are warm and soft and rushing. The flow of a balmy tide welcoming me as my magic pours back in. The first breeze of spring blowing into me as I knit his silken skin together where it never was meant to be sewn.

Narcissa Malfoy - frigid, methodical Narcissa Malfoy - who has never shed a tear in another's presence - weeps openly on a borrowed kitchen chair, gripping her only living sister's hand as if it's the last thing keeping her feet moulded to the ground.

"Draco," she says to me through high pitched tears and mourn-stained cries "Is he alive?"

She asks it in a whisper, against her perfect Slytherin judgement, even as I'm covered in his blood.

"Yes," I reply "He's missing a leg, but he's alive."

She melts to the ground, holding her head in her hands as she pours out all that remains of her heart. Her comfort is not my priority now. Let her shout her pain to relieve her anguish while I act to salvage our hopes. Healing will come in the morning.

It's going to take me days of studying textbooks and much trial and error to conjure a new leg for him, but it will come in time. I'll work tirelessly to make it happen. I'll forge miracles from nothing, much like I always do. Ironically, there are more pressing matters at the moment.

Bellatrix's dagger must be destroyed beyond all hope of repair. I don't have any cares to give that it's a Black family heirloom or that it cost enough to sell my life for. That thing is tainted with the nastiest magic, carrying a shredded shard of soul from one of the vilest witches to ever exist.

Andromeda's pristine dark hardwood is hacked into pieces as Harry and Ron take turns swinging the sword at the dagger. The sound of metal on metal interlaces with grunts of strain and bloody screams of murder as the soul within is destroyed. Dobby the house-elf twirls Harry's pouch around his finger from his perch on the corner table. Draco lays upstairs in our borrowed room, holding a hand that's not mine to soothe his ragged mind.

'I'll be there soon, darling. I have to ensure this darkness is purged before I can return to the light of your presence.'

With an ear-splitting wail, the same disgusting grey smoke that poured from the Dark Mark gushes into the air, then seems to dissipate as the dagger crumbles into ash. It's finished, and it's not. Who knows how many dark artefacts like this there are? Who knows how many souls have been split to be turned into memorials of their carnage? Evil infests like cockroaches, we can kill and kill and kill, but it never completely dies.

I suppose relief would be a rational response. Bellatrix is dead. We are alive. Voldemort is left without the captain of his guard, his most skilled warrior. When it comes time for Harry to confront him, the Dark will be at a sore loss for protection. Sadly, I feel no relief. I feel nothing but responsibility crushing my happiness, syphoning each drop of joy I might otherwise hold onto. I feel like a goddess who can't answer the prayers of her people, whose mouth has been melted shut and feet have been tied on her perch. This is an unhelpful thought, so I focus on the cans.

I can help Draco heal. I can help Harry fight. I can repay the Tonks' their kindness. I can thank Dobby for remembering the sword, and Hermione for letting me use it. I can owe them my heart, I can repay them with my magic, and I will.

xoXOXox

Hermione sits at my bedside, the bandage on her upper arm stained through with the dark red blood my aunt has stolen from her. Her cold hand trembles in mine, or mine trembles in hers; perhaps both. Her grip is not firm today, but soft and sublime, a feather-light touch to remind us we are physical beings; that despite all we've been through, we remain in the land of the living. We stay like this for eternity, sitting in silence, holding each other in what small way we are able to. Words are unnecessary. Words would never do justice to what we've seen.

'It will be okay.' her honey eyes seem to say.

I stare into them, running feeble circles across the back of her hand with my thumb. She's pulled me from the clutches of the grave yet again. My cruel Fates have no leverage against my defender of the Light.

I crave to know what's happening downstairs. The clattering and wailing and splitting of wood interrupts my unstable peace. To know what's befallen my Luna plagues me. Instead, I lie here helplessly, unable to so much as walk without support.

"Hello, Mr Lovegood," comes my angel's voice from the doorway.

The daisies adorning my moon are splattered in blood, her hands stained red from surely trying to cleanse them the Muggle way. She's without her jumper, openly displaying the pink splotches marring her porcelain arms. Her face and eyes are red and swollen, portraying the hardship of a hundred days of penance paid that she never owed.

"Hello, Mrs Lovegood. It's delightful to see your beautiful face again, my lovely." I reply, opening my arms to welcome her home.

She slides in beside me, opposite Hermione. My light and my salvation sit to each side of me, commanding the darkness to flee.

"I've been meaning to ask you…" Luna begins "Do you really want to take my name? We could maybe be Blacks instead, or Tonks'? What do you think? Would Andromeda mind? Or we could make our own name."

I hold her tightly, not bothering in the slightest with what I'm called, so long as she calls me hers. Hermione lifts her lips minutely, and it's then I know.

"Granger?" I ask Luna, but Hermione answers.

"Yes?"

I look into the face of Death's conqueror.

"How about Granger? Would you do us the highest honour, Hermione? I'm hoping not to have to fulfil another life debt, so perhaps carrying on your name would resolve it for you?"

Her countenance breaks and dissolves into a thousand pieces before she speaks.

"Seriously? You would take a Mudbl-"

I take one of Luna's tricks to use for myself, placing a single finger over her dried rose lips.

"It would be the highest honour," I repeat.

She stares in silence as her mind whirrs around the implications. Finally, after every foul deed has been rectified, after all the possible motives have been vindicated, only once she is confident in gifting us the mark of her lineage, she softens her voice to speak.

"I would love to." she says "When's the wedding?"

"Now? Unless you'd like to have your father present?" I request, turning to my love. After nearly falling off the earth today, I don't want to waste any more time in creating my forever.

"Sure." she responds, smiling "We can have a celebration for everyone when we feel like it, if we ever do."

My senses abandon me as my body goes light as air.

"Hermione," I implore, grasping her hand to stay myself from floating into the sky. "Can you?.." I wince trying to sit up. She braces me around the shoulders as Luna links herself underneath my arm. Together, they raise me to sit.

"My love?" Luna asks, looking into me with a dreamy smile "May I have a present before the wedding?"

"Anything you desire," I immediately respond.

"Call Mimsy," she orders, and I do as I am bid.

The creature pops into our midst.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

I look to Luna for answers. She slips the sock off of my remaining foot, handing it to me. She turns to the elf.

"Mimsy, you are one of the bravest, most intelligent people I've ever met. I don't think someone like you deserves the treatment you receive. If you would like, Draco can give you this sock, and you'll be able to choose what you do with your life from now on. It's up to you."

Tears stream down the elf's face as Hermione's eyes grow glossy with sentiment.

The elf squeaks -

"P-people can work for Master Draco and Master Draco's Miss?"

Luna smiles, causing every muscle in my body to melt into complacence.

"People can work wherever they like, and we would be incredibly lucky to have you if you choose to stay with us." she responds

I reach the sock to the creature, who accepts it gingerly as if it's the most precious treasure.

"Thank you," she squeals "Miss Luna"

xoXOXox

"You're welcome, and thank you for saving us." I reply

I always feel strange asking house-elves to do things. It's hard to remember it's part of their culture, that they like to do things they're asked to do. It brings them joy to feel helpful and useful. I've already requested her to risk her life to save us once today, it shouldn't be so difficult to request one more favour of her.

"Mimsy, would you please gather Miss Narcissa, our friends, and the Tonks family and ask them to meet us here in half an hour?"

"NO!" she shouts, bursting into uproarious laughter through her tears.

I laugh along with her as Draco stares on in shock.

"Mimsy has always wanted to say that, Miss Luna." she says, wiping a joyful tear from her eye.

I feel that I understand her sentiment deeply. No is such a powerful word. No, I won't let you fall. No, you won't die without me. No, I won't stop loving you, no matter how long we're apart.

"Mimsy will go fetch the family now." she says, hurrying away to help me once again.

I shoot streams of daffodils and daisies, gardenias and marigolds over every surface of the small bedroom. May our life be blessed with the radiance of the sun.

I transfigure Draco's dirty jumper into a smart, deep green waistcoat with a light yellow button up shirt. He looks even more stunning in the colours of life. Finally, one-legged trousers and a crisp black shoe to complete the outfit.

I pull a daffodil and gardenia from one of the many streamers, placing them in his hand.

"Your best man should pin this on you," I tell him, "but if he's not here or no longer with us…"

"Hermione," he interrupts, handing her the flower.

Her eyes grow in a dazzled expression for merely a breath before she holds the flowers to his chest and casts a sticking charm over them. My groom is complete. Next, the Best Witch.

I fashion her a golden knee length dress with lace sleeves ending at her wrists. The metallic warmth of it brings a bit of life back into the pallor that's befallen her after the atrocities she's experienced today. I charm her nails and lips red to remind her of the heart that still pumps the lion's blood within. I'm confident she can handle any further glamours she'd like to wear.

I rush to the lavatory, accioing a bottle of Sleek Eazy from Tonks' things. Surely, she won't mind me using it on my wedding day.

I hastily toss the blood-soaked leggings and dress, casting a cleaning charm over myself for good measure. I don't want this moment to be tainted by injury and war.

I slick down my hair, charm my lashes darker, and focus on creating a dress to be proud of.

xoXOXox

"This is err… A lot of yellow." Hermione murmurs, standing unsteadily to go prepare Potter and the Weasel.

"Yeah," I respond on a whisper of a laugh.

With the plethora of floral accompaniments against the light green walls, one could easily imagine holding a wedding in a summer garden. It's a bit garish, but I find myself entranced by the ambiance nonetheless. It feels like the first day of spring after a long bout of frost.

My mother and aunt sit in stunned silence as Dory gushes over my hair, taming it this way and that, seeming to forget I've been styling it myself since I was a babe in arms. She seems to enjoy finding herself useful, however, so I allow her to indulge. There's no use fussing over it. There's no one here to outshine me, as the only wizards present are Potter and the Weasel. If I strategize competently, my hair will be disheveled again before the day is finished.

She finally relents, placing a silver handled mirror in front of me.

"You have to mess it up just right!" She says with a laugh as I peer at my reflection.

I must admit her work is impressive. My hair shines nearly the same pale yellow as the shirt, barely a shade off of its usual white. It falls a bit over my brows like I've recently had a good shag, but doesn't get in the way of my eyes. I find I like it this way. It aides in me looking less like my father and more like a new person all together.

Hermione returns with Potter and the Weasel both sporting a slightly less dashing version of my attire, each with a gardenia charmed to their breast. I'm in awe of the magical strength she displays mere hours after being used as a plaything by a pain-mongering lunatic. This woman is invincible, and she is my protector. It's not a lie I have to tell myself, but a fact that has proven to be conclusive.

Mother, Andy and Dory all wear formal blue robes with a marigold tucked into their hair at my beloved's request. Mother has smoothed their faces to rid them of any trace of turmoil, locking her occlumency shields firmly in place. Will this stubborn witch ever learn?

"Mother," I implore. She shoots up, arriving at my side in seconds.

"Yes, son?" she asks, anxious to appease.

"Take them down, please." I request "Only for me, only today."

She does as requested, years of agony and fear flooding to the crystal waters of her eyes. The pain is so palpable it freezes my heart, and all at once I understand why onlookers call her frigid. I take her hand in mine, purposely holding her stare for longer than is appropriate.

"We're beyond the veil now mother, it's time for us to soar."

She nods once, anguish filling her eyes with the essence of tears once more. I reach for a handkerchief to wipe them away before they fall.

Andromeda sets a violin to play, the piano downstairs amplified to provide a bit of harmony.

It's then I see her, the most astounding woman I've ever laid eyes on.

She floats into the room. Her hair falls in shining molten streams of gold to her petite waist. Her silken skin is as fresh snow, save for a delectable crimson blush in her cheeks. Her eyes shimmer like ice in the sun; her red lips awaiting mine only made more beautiful by her effervescent smile. She holds a bouquet of fragrant daffodils and gardenias wrapped at the stems with a yellow silk ribbon.

The dress, gods the dress -

I've never seen anything like it. It gives her the air of the finest bottle of champagne, one that will never run dry as I drink to my heart's content. Hair-thin gold lace is spun in an intricate design, sending the fading daylight scrambling into a million tiny fragments to dance along every surface of the room. Her shoulders are bare, whispering for my touch to warm them. Its evident she has wrapped herself as a gift given to me; a precious gift, born both of her will and my efforts. The form caresses her every curve to assert her glory. Her perfect breasts are somehow unfathomably more enticing pressed against her. As the bodice cradling them in place of my palms displays their roundness immodestly beneath her collar, I've never been so thankful for her lack of stifling politeness. Her waist dips violently where my arm belongs, giving way to pliant hips that beg me to fit myself between them. As she steps towards me, it's evident beneath the hem of her dress that her feet are bare save for thin gold chains and a smattering of red on the nails.

The Weasel brusquely interrupts my revelry, shoving his over-large arm underneath mine to wrap about my back.

"You didn't think I was going to let you take this lying down, did you, mate? Lazy ferret." He scoffs, lifting me to stand. "Gotta put your best foot forward!"

I rise unsteadily to my remaining leg, leaning heavily on the Weasel to maintain my balance. If this were any other day, shame for my circumstances would overtake me. Not today. Today, I've never been more certain I'm the luckiest bastard the Fates have ever set their sights on, for I've escaped their wrath to be delivered into a heaven of our creation. I fall into her eyes, letting the madness overtake me one final time as I dissolve into it fully, allowing it to become my sanity.

"You ready, kitten?"

xoXOXox

Draco and I face each other as I untie the ribbon around the bouquet, handing it to Hermione. I grasp his hand, and in an instant, it's bound to mine with a perfect yellow bow. A gift we give each other - to be around through the days and nights, to not leave each other without support and comfort. I now understand that's why it's called a present, because we are promising our presence to one another.

"Harry?" I ask "You'll do the rites for us, won't you?"

His mind breaks for a minute as the shock overwhelms him. I wait patiently while he collects himself.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." he eventually responds, nodding his head to ensure himself he meant to say that.

He stands facing Draco's family - our family now - as Hermione and Ron each stand to our sides. It's nice to be surrounded by friends in celebrations such as these. I wonder mutely if Narcissa and Mrs Tonks have ever been to a wedding this intimate, and if they count themselves lucky to have been to one today. I certainly do.

"Alright, friends and family," Harry begins; his assuredness growing as more words flow from his mouth. "We're here today to celebrate the joining of two lives, bound by magic and… love." He looks at me, his eyes clearly asking 'Right? That is what we're doing here, isn't it?' I give him a tiny affirmative nod. He continues -

"Luna, do you take Draco…"

"Yes." I respond. The rest of that sentence wasn't important.

"And Draco?..."

"Absolutely," my love intones.

"Do the two of you have any vows you would like to make in the presence of magic today?"

I think about this question. I believe I've made all the vows I need to make to sustain us, and Draco knows what they are. I suppose for the purpose of repetition I could restate a few of the most important ones.

"I'll go first," I say "I promise to do my best to give you everything you need, and most of what you want. I'll help you grow, I'll be with you always, and I'll choose you first, so long as you do the same for me."

I think that sums it up nicely.

"Draco?" Harry intones.

I have the feeling his vows will be more elaborate and eloquent than mine. I don't mind. I enjoy his rambles.

"I promise to earn your trust in every moment, to cherish it as I cherish my magic. I promise to live in earnest for you and for me, to protect you with the strongest battlements in the darkest hours. I promise to continue to fight until there are no more wars to separate us, and I swear on my magic the world collapsing around us will never stop me from choosing you with every beat of my heart."

That was beautiful - even for Draco - not because of the words he said, but the freedom with which he said them. The truth has a way of healing the soul that the most elegant poetry can't compare to. In this moment, his voice rings with renewal, singing new hopes to the tune of our dreams.

"If magic agrees, let it be so." Harry incants. A white light surrounds Draco and I, and then it's gone. The ribbon binding us together vanishes, and all that's left is him and me. It's nice that magic is happy to see us team up to strengthen each other.

"By the rites of magic itself, I pronounce you Draco and Luna… Granger. May you live a long and happy life."

Harry turns to go, but Hermione pulls him back.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asks with a tinge of irritation.

Harry's dumbstruck. He has no idea what he's forgotten. To be fair, Narcissa seems to share the same confounded look.

"You're on your own for this one, mate." Ron says, easing Draco down to the edge of the bed.

I relax my arms against his shoulders as he pulls me in by the waist, wrapping me in a warmth I'll savour for all of my days. We kiss like it's the first time, or the last. Like all the times between that melt into one to make this last into eternity. I hope to repeat this over and over, to taste his sweet breath and feel his full lips as they change, reforming themselves to meet mine again and again.

We pull ourselves apart for a moment to a wild whistle from Ron and loud sobbing from Mimsy, who is silenced with a wet "Mmph!" I look up to see Dobby has pulled her into a peck on the lips, and her ears flap into contented relaxation.

I didn't know house-elves kissed? Maybe only free ones do.

xoXOXox

Our new elf summons champagne and hor devours, along with a myriad of sweet indulgences to feed far more than eight. Everyone takes their turns spinning each other in circles, Weasel and Potter taking shifts to hold me upright as I cradle my bride in my arms. I reluctantly release her to dance with my mother, hoping she doesn't see my father's face in mine to assault her once more.

She doesn't, instead gracefully placing her hand on my waist and shoulder, swaying to each side as if it's perfectly acceptable to be cavorting away with her son entwined with Harry Potter. It's happening anyway, so accepting it would be a prudent decision to make. My mother is nothing if not prudent.

"I'm proud of you, Draco." she tells me, and for the first time in eras I see her genuine smile. It's blinding in its splendor, and something I created; an action my Fates can never rob me of.

I thank her and kiss her cheek as I implore Potter to sit me down. It's a tiring endeavour to remain situating all of my weight to one side. I'm sure Potter's shoulders could use a break as well. He sits too much on them as it stands.

"Is this our cue?" Dory asks, noticing the fatigue in my features.

"I believe so," I reply "You're welcome to continue the festivities, but I would like some time alone with my bride."

The Weasel mumbles "Disgusting," under his breath while shooting me a mischievous grin. Yes, I'm definitely going to miss his company.

The elves vanish all the food, or relocate it to the sitting room probably. Our family files in to embrace Luna and I, granting us each their congratulations on the way downstairs. I hold Hermione a touch too tightly when her turn comes, hoping to fill her with the sentiments I carry for her.

Potter is the last in line, shaking my hand and holding my wife for a few seconds longer than I'm comfortable with. She doesn't seem to mind, so I let my ire fall away. She chose me, and so long as I fulfill her requirements, he poses no threat to my love.

"We're leaving in the morning." he states with an air of regret.

"What? No." I reply, thinking of Hermione. "She needs to heal, Potter. You can't drag her back into the bloody wilderness in this state!"

"We won't be in the wilderness." Hermione interjects from behind me, walking around to face us once more. "We're going to Hogwarts. There is one last mission we've yet to complete before we end this war once and for all."

"Yeah," the Weasel interjects "And I'd like to bloody well get this over with before anyone else loses their limbs. We keep going at this rate and we won't be good for anything but spare parts or a sack race, mate."

"Go," Luna says, even though I want to hide them all away and protect the love so close to my heart. "Finish them. We'll be along as soon as I can patch him up if you still need us."

I suddenly long to have my grandfather's portrait here with us, so he could witness my bride building our fortress amidst the destruction, fighting with the valour of a thousand Gryffindors to right the carnage which has so wrongfully ravaged our peace. At least then he could know one of his heirs carries on the tradition of holding celebrations when it suits our sensibilities.

xoXOXox

A/N:

Yes, yes I know:

"WTF Vine?! There are so many things wrong with this chapter! What is your effing problem, pixie!?"

Listen, Narcissa has already voiced these concerns to me, and, while your concerns are certainly valid, I would ask you to allow me to explain my rationale:

Our characters have lived lives that have them craving stability, power, and something to look forward to. If formally dedicating themselves to each other is how they are able to and choose to express that, please remember this choice is not irrevocable, merely a formal declaration that is not at all required to validate anyone's feelings.

While we are talking about problematic messages, I am always down to have thought provoking conversations about the themes and topics discussed in my fics. PM me if you would like to talk.

Please review. I want to know what you think. No need to worry about how long the review is or if what you say is constructive, all I want is your opinion, even if it's just an emoji.

Thanks,

Carry on,

Vine