A/N: I thought that this might be a nice place to end my version of their story. Thank you so very much for the support!

I sit alone in the living room of his flat, my knee bouncing as I watch the clock on the mantlepiece counting down the minutes until we have to leave.

'For someone who hates it when others are late, you're cutting things very close!' I shout over my shoulder, in the direction of the bedroom. 'What are you even doing in there?'

'Calm down,' he drawls as he finally, finally, exits the bedroom. I stand as his footsteps get closer in the hallway, but the reprimand I have poised on my tongue dies as he rounds the corner and enters the living room. He raises an eyebrow at my dumb-struck expression as he pulls at his cuff to straighten his shirt sleeve. 'Faeries got your tongue, Weasley?'

'You look ... wow.' I don't even know why I had tried to describe how good he looks to me. He's wearing a grey silk shirt that highlights his silver eyes, and an emerald-green wqistcoat and suit trousers that contrast beautifully with his pale skin. He's styled his white-blonde hair so that it hangs softly over his eyes, and his black dress shoes have been polished to a high shine. I see him shift slightly as my eyes rove over him, a pink blush colouring his cheeks at the expression on my face.

'I suppose wow is as good as I'm going to get,' he says.

'Well, I was going to say that you look absolutely edible,' I reply casually, sliding my large hands into the pockets of my navy trousers and strolling towards him. I see his throat move with his gulp as I close the distance between us. 'Or that we should just sack off the whole thing and stay here, so I can peel all of those distracting clothes off you.'

'Really,' he grumbles, but I can see the effort it takes for him to roll his eyes as I stop in front of him, close enough for him to feel my body heat. To disguise his reaction to my words, he raises his too-steady hands to straighten my tie. 'You'd duck out of your own sister's wedding, risking Ginevra's considerable wrath, just to undo all the good work I've done here?'

'There are so very many things I'd risk if it meant I could get you naked and under me,' I murmur, grinning at the slight shiver that runs through his body at my words. He tugs me down by my tie and presses a heated kiss to my lips. When I pull back, I frown with mock-concern. 'Though the threat of Ginny is enough to give me second thoughts.'

'Prat,' he grunts, his palm now against my chest and pushing me away from him. He sweeps passed me to stand in front of the fireplace, checking his reflection one final time in the mirror above it. I take the opportunity to rake my eyes over his back, taking in how the fitted waistcoat hugs his curves, how the cut of his trousers makes the material cling to his pert arse.

'Although this view is enough to make me have third thoughts.' He catches my gaze through the mirror and narrows his eyes to glare at me, but I step up behind him and press my body against his. My hands snake around his waist and I drop my head to his neck, gently kissing and nipping the soft skin there, breathing in the heady scent of his aftershave.

'Weasley,' he says, slightly breathlessly. He tilts his head to one side, giving me more access to his throat, and I slowly run my nose up the length of it. He raises one hand to run it through my hair, his other dropping to twine his fingers through mine. 'We really do have to go.'

I groan, and pull him tightly to me, the stirrings of my arousal rubbing against him. I hear him bite back a moan of his own and, with effort, he steps out of my arms and turns to face me. His eyes are a little wild, but I watch as he carefully masters himself. He fusses with his waistcoat, then reaches up to right my hair, which he'd mussed up. It takes a large amount of will not to touch him. But I know if I do, we won't be able to leave. So I stand still and wait for him to release me.

'Ready?' He steps away from me again, a satisfied smile on his face as he takes in my appearance.

'Absolutely.' I offer him my hand, but just before I Apparate us he leans up to kiss my cheek.

'You look pretty wow yourself,' he whispers, and I chuckle before concentrating on sending us through the world, sending us to the Burrow.

We land amidst noise and chaos. There are red-haired people running around everywhere, and he clings to me a little as people rush past.

'Oh, Ronald, good.' We turn to see Mum bustling towards us, looking harrassed but happy. I stoop to kiss her cheek, and she absent-mindedly turns the other one to Draco, who doesn't miss a beat and instantly brushes his lips against her warm face. 'Harry needs you,' she goes on, turning to walk towards the house, and we follow her. 'And I could do with your help, Draco dear. Ron tells me you're a bit of a whizz in the kitchen?'

He shoots a glower at me before replying smoothly, 'I can hold my own, but I'm sure nothing I do will hold a candle to your skills, Mrs Weasley.'

'I've told you, call me Molly, dear,' she smiles at him warmly, then links her arm through his and pulls him into the kitchen. All I can do is shrug helplessly as he sends me a slightly pleading look, then they're gone. I can hear people running around upstairs, and slowly make my way up towards my old room.

I reach the landing of Ginny's bedroom, and the door is open a crack. I can't resist peeking in. Fleur, Angelina and Audrey are perched on the bed, Hermione is standing to one side, slightly misty-eyed, and Ginny ...

Ginny stands in front of her mirror, staring at herself. Her floor-length ivory gown has small crystals adorning the material, making it shimmer whenever she moves. The dress is almost backless, but I can see in her reflection that the front neckline sweeps high up her chest, ending just below her collarbones, before the lace trails down her arms in delicate sleeves. Her long red hair curls softly against her back, hiding most of the skin left bare by the dress, and woven around her head is a delicate crown of tiny silver leaves. Her gaze catches mine in the mirror, and I can see that her large blue eyes are slightly wet.

'You look beautiful, Gin,' I breathe, and tears fall down her cheeks as she beams at me.

'Ron!' Hermione is wiping at her face as she hurries to the door. 'You're not supposed to be in here! Harry's in your room.' And with that, she shuts the door in my face. I take a moment to dry my own eyes before I turn and take the last flight of stairs up to my old bedroom. I knock, and when a gruff voice responds I turn the handle and enter.

In a strange parody of what's happening downstairs, I enter my old room to find Harry staring at himself in the bedroom mirror. The major difference, though, is that he's alone. My heart aches at the evident lack of parents, family, siblings around him. But I push it aside as I let out a low whistle.

'Well, don't you scrub up nicely,' I say, giving him a lopsided grin when he turns to look at me. He smiles back and continues his turn, doing a full rotation until he's facing me again. His brow furrows.

'Do you really think it's alright?' He's wearing a close-fitting 3-piece navy suit, with a peach-coloured tie and pocket square, all in line with the wedding colour theme. It's identical to mine, but I've forgone the jacket for now, the sleeves of my white shirt rolled up to my elbows. His glasses have been polished, and his hair, although as unruly as ever, looks to have at least yielded enough for him to have run a comb through it.

'Mate, I told you when we chose it, and I'll tell you the same thing now - you have never looked better.'

'Thanks,' he sighs, then fiddles with his cufflink. I reach into the inside pocket of my waistcoat and, with a wink, I hand him the slim flask I'd hidden there earlier. He takes a long draw, coughing slightly at the burn of the firewhiskey as it makes its way down. 'Merlin, I needed that. I've been standing here for 10 bloody minutes just trying to get the damn button-hole on.'

I look at the bed where he's pointing, and notice two small ever-green sprigs, tied with twine. I pick one up and face him, making quick work of attaching the decoration to his waistcoat. He rolls his eyes at the ease with which I do it, but he just takes another swig of the whiskey as I turn to the mirror and attach my own.

'How's Draco?'

'Fine,' I say, smoothing my waistcoat one last time. 'Mum caught him the minute we arrived, to help with the food.'

'Good luck to him,' Harry murmurs, handing me back the flask. Through the open bedroom window, we hear Dad starting to call everyone to the marquee that's been set up in the meadow. Harry pales, and I grip his shoulders.

'You've faced worse than this,' I remind him with a wry smile. He chuckles, and we both turn to leave the room. To head downstairs. To his wedding.

The ceremony goes off without a hitch. George officiates, and he does an outstanding job. The vows are full of love and laughter, and even he has a tear in his eye as he pronounces the married couple. Then it's all a blur, of greeting relatives, introducing Draco, catching up with old acquaintances. Mum, with some last minute help from Draco, has pulled off a fantastic feast. And by the time the speeches come, everyone is happy, and sated, and a pleasant buzz fills the tent.

Dad makes his speech, and it's a little rambling but full of advice and care. And then, as best man, it's my turn. I'm nervous as I prepare to begin, but I look beside me, to where Draco sits, and he's looking up at me with such affection that my heart swells, and I find it easy to turn back to the crowd.

My speech is a mixture of embarrassing stories about Ginny and Harry, and what it was like to grow up beside both of them. Our family and friends laugh and groan in the appropriate places, and at one point Harry flings a bread roll at me for revealing too much about one of the many times he almost got us all killed.

When I finally wrap up my speech, it's with a toast to those who are missing, who should have been here to celebrate with us. Harry's parents, Sirius, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Dobby, and all of those who didn't make it through the war. And as I choke out, 'To absent friends,' slender fingers grip mine as everyone raises their glasses and echoes my words. I sit down again, and he holds my hand tightly as the buzz once again fills the tent.

'That was beautiful, Weasley.' His lips brush my cheek, and I smile gratefully at him as he stays close and begins to gossip about the various Ministry officials that have been invited. Soon I'm roaring with laughter, and he keeps grinning at me, and my heart hasn't felt this light in years.

Harry and Ginny cut their cake and share their first dance. Harry's obviously been taking lessons, and Hermione and I catch each other's eyes across the dance floor. I raise one eyebrow at her as Harry gracefully spins Ginny in his arms, and she pushes her fist against her mouth to muffle her giggles. Viktor, resplendent beside her, looks down, puzzled, but she just pats his chest and turns back to watch the dancing.

And then it's time for others to step onto the dancefloor, to join the newlyweds.

'Dance with me,' I say, looking down at Draco. He smirks back.

'Not for you, this time?'

'Keep it up, smartass, and we'll see,' I chuckle, but when I offer him my hand he takes it without complaint. We sway slowly, bodies pressed together. He winds his arms around my neck, playing with the hairs at my nape in a way that sends tingles down my spine and almost makes me purr.

'I feel like I need to thank you, Ron,' he says suddenly, his eyes bright as he looks up at me.

'For what?'

'For this.' He looks around him, at my family. At Harry and Ginny dancing in the centre of the floor, thoroughly absorbed in each other. At Hermione and Viktor, swaying in one spot, her cheek resting against his chest. At my mum and dad; at Bill and Fleur; at Charlie and the gentleman he's brought with him; at Percy and Audrey; at George and Angelina. Finally, he looks back to me. 'I've never felt so ... included before. And over these past few months, you've made me want to trust people, to give people a chance to get to know me without assuming they'll just hate me. Thank you.'

'How could anyone hate you?' I frown, even as my chest tightens at his words.

'You used to,' he counters, that smirk on his lips again.

'Well, yes, but you were a bit of a prick as a child.' He opens his mouth to retort, but I jump in, 'And so was I. But I'm glad we've both grown enough to see the other for who they are now, who we really are. You've no need to thank me for anything. I love you, Draco, for exactly who you are. And I'm proud to show that to everyone.'

He clears his throat in an attempt to hide the small noise that had threatened to escape him, and ducks his head to my chest. I press my lips to his hair, and wait until he's recovered enough to look up again before I step away.

'Come with me,' I breathe, tugging at his hand. 'There's something I want to show you.'

He follows me silently as I lead him across the meadow, through the field beyond, past the pond, and along the treeline at the edge of the property. I look back a few times to check that he's OK, and see him just taking in the places I grew up with awe on his face. So I slow our walk, telling him stories about my childhood on the property. The early Autumn evening around us turns balmy, and it's getting dark as we finally reach our destination.

'A tree?' he asks, confused, but I just point him to the ladder that's attached to the trunk of the large, ancient oak. He obediantly starts to climb, and I hear him gasp as he reaches the top. I emerge moments later, into the treehouse that's been my haunt for so many years.

'Dad built this for me,' I tell him, as I join him at the top of the ladder. 'When I was 8. He realised that I needed somewhere to be alone, when the house was too crowded and noisy, and he built this place and spelled it so that only he and I could see it. If they ever couldn't find me, Dad would know that I was probably here.'

The wooden platform we're standing on is about 10 feet long and 10 feet wide, and the roof reaches up into the canopy high enough for us to stand comfortably. Lights twinkle on overhead, strung along the rafters of the roof to illumate the space on darker evenings. The place is still incredibly clean, thanks to the spells Dad placed on it, all those years ago. Half of the floor is bare, polished wood, the other half carpeted, with large pillows and a low fouton sofa pushed back against the wall. Stacks of old comics surround the fouton, and I'm glad to notice that none of them are the dirty ones I'd collected for a while. I vaguely hope that it was the magic of the treehouse that removed those, and not Dad.

'Your father loves you all very much,' he finally manages, and I squeeze his hand at the pain in his voice. Pain that I know is piercing his heart. Pain from having wanted so badly a father who would do these things for him, and had not.

I pull him along behind me as I cross the treehouse, and out the other door, onto a small balcony. The view is breathtaking - the last of the sun dipping down behind rolling green hills. He leans against the railing as he takes it in.

'It's beautiful, Weasley,' he sighs, and I find I can't look away from his face. He looks so ... content, so at peace. And, I notice, he looks so much more filled out than when we first started speaking. Though he's still lithe, the gauntness and sharpness have gone from his features, and he's a lot less pale these days.

'It is, isn't it,' I breathe, not looking away from him. He catches my eye and blushes, but straightens so that he can face me, his hip against the railing.

'It's been a wonderful day,' he says as he toys with a whorl in the wood next to him. 'Ginevra threw quite the party. And Potter looked pretty happy, too.'

'It feels weird to think that my baby sister is married now. And my best friend.' I pause, remembering the way Harry and Ginny had looked tonight, the obvious love and happiness between them, and I suddenly blurt, 'Would you want to be married? Someday?' I know he hears the caution in my tone, because he looks at me and gives me one of those rare, warm smiles.

'Someday,' he says quietly. 'But I think I'd like to see a little of the world first. With you.'

I can't hold back the smile that almost tears my face in half at his words. I lower my head and catch his lips with mine, my heart racing as his hands press to my chest. Without breaking the kiss, I urge him backwards, away from the railing, back into the treehouse. He lets me guide him, and soon we're stood by the fouton. Our kisses are slow, burning, a deep passion stirring in me at the taste of his mouth, his tongue.

'Gods, I can't get enough of you,' I breathe as I break away and lean back slightly to look at him. His eyes are smoldering, and the way he holds his body to mine tells me he feels the same way. My lips attach to his neck, and he blindly fumbles at my waistcoat. I reach up to help him.

'Shit!' I pull my hands away, surprised by the sudden pain in my index finger. There's a drop of blood on my fingertip, where I've pierced it on the pin through my button-hole. I lick away the blood, but before I can move further he's taking my hand gently in his and pressing a light kiss to my finger. Warming, healing magic flares under his touch, and the bleeding immediately stops. I smile at him.

'Just didn't want blood all over my shirt,' he smirks.

'Understandable. It's a very nice shirt.' My lips return to his neck, and I feel him shiver as my breath ghosts over his skin. 'Though I have a feeling it'll look better on the floor than it does on you.'

He lets out that deep belly laugh that makes my toes curl as he winds his arms around my neck. 'Bloody hell, Weasley, that was cheesy, even for you.'

'If it makes you laugh like that, I'll have to think of something just as cheesy to say every day.' His answering sigh is a heady mixture of love and need and adoration, and I struggle to remain upright as the sound threatens to buckle my knees. I focus on stripping his waistcoat off, and soon there's a pile of clothes behind me and we're both lowering ourselves to the fouton in just our boxers. He settles under me and I prop myself up on one arm, taking in his body. 'Gods, you're brilliant.'

'Come here,' he murmurs, his cheeks pink as he reaches for me, but I shake my head gently. My freckled fingers trail teasing patterns down his stomach, and I watch his breathing hitch as I skim over his hip bones, still prominent but nowhere near as sharp as they were months ago. He's panting now, his hips rolling as he tries to get my hand where he wants it. 'Ron, please, I need - '

'Don't worry, Pet. I know what you need. Just you let me take care of you.'

He nods, and leans back against the fouton, one arm thrown over his eyes, the flush creeping down his neck now. I chuckle at the sight, and dip my head to run my tongue along the taught skin above his waistband. His hips snap up in response, and I use the motion to tug his boxers down, freeing his hard length.

I'm slightly transfixed as it bobs in front of my face momentarily, but when I look up he's watching me closely. I wink as I catch his eye, and he groans and drops his head back, unable to watch. I chuckle, then settle myself between his thighs as I slowly lick him, from base to tip. He gasps at the first touch, then again when the point of my tongue dips into his slit.

I moan at the taste of him already dampening his head, and soon I've engulfed him. I take my time, sucking long and slow and gentle, but keeping him at the edge every so often with a slight scrape of my teeth against his shaft or his tip, or with a harder squeeze of my hand around his length or his balls.

When he's really thrashing and I'm having to hold him down, I move faster, using my mouth and hand to drive him towards release. I run my thumb around his base, wetting it in the mixture of drool and pre-cum that's collected there, and when I know he's too close to back down I press the digit against his entrance. It slips inside easily, and it's all he needs.

He's crying my name, his hands in my hair, thrusting into my mouth as he all but sobs through his orgasm. I suck until he stops throbbing, and release him, quickly swallowing his cum as I crawl back up the fouton to lie next to him. I slide an arm under his head and roll him against me, listening to his breathing slow as he comes down. He plays with my chest hair, lost in his bliss for a few minutes, and I enjoy the easy silence between us. But then he's reaching for me, his hand snaking between us, and I catch his wrist.

'I want to be inside you when I cum,' I tell him, my eyes fixing on his as I nip at the inside of his wrist. His silver eyes flash with obvious lust, but I still ask, 'Are you ready?'

'Gods, yes,' he moans, his lips crashing against mine. I hold him to my chest for a few moments, then break away.

'Hands and knees, Pet.' He instantly scrambles to obey, and I can see that he's hardening again already as I move to kneel behind him. I palm his arse in a stinging slap, once, twice, three times, his back arching deeper, and his head falling further back with each hit. I don't need to see his face to know he bites his lip as I soothingly rub his heated skin and let out a dark chuckle. 'So needy. For me?'

'Only for you.' He looks over his shoulder at me, and the desire I see on my face makes me growl. I cast a wandless lubricating spell and prepare myself, then take my time sliding my slick head against his hole, until he whimpers, 'Please!'

'Such lovely manners,' I grin, then press my tip against his entrance and push gently. The head pops in and I pause, but I've barely had time to register the sensation when he suddenly pushes back and sheaths me fully inside him. I swear loudly as his tight, hot hole swallows me, and grasp his hip to stop him moving, fighting down my need to plow into him, to chase my own release. When I can see through the haze of my lust again, I grip my fingers harder into him as lean over to snarl against his ear, 'Greedy. That wasn't very polite, now was it?'

'Worth it,' he pants, and I can feel him moving as he tries to writhe against me.

'Oh, we shall see about that, brat,' I murmur, and a shiver runs down his spine as I glide my tongue around the shell of his ear.

He turns his head to meet my lips, but I straighten and pull nearly completely out of him, leaning back slightly to smack his arse one more time. I drive deep into him again, then pull out once more, torturously slowly. I repeat my motions multiple times, keeping a firm grasp on his hips to stop him grinding back against me, and soon he's panting and whining and begging for me to fuck him, to take him hard and fast, to make him mine.

'You're already mine, Pet,' I croon, running a hand lovingly over the reddened, raised fingermarks that criss-cross his pale cheeks. 'But since you asked so nicely ... '

I set up a fast pace, slamming into him over and over, and he's instantly crying out, making that delicious little mewling noise as I claim him. His chest lowers to the fouton and I lean forward to brace myself with one arm locked, my hand planted next to his head.

Something in my heart tightens as he reaches up and twines his fingers through mine, holding on as I slam into him. I reach under his pelvis, and find his cock, hard and hot and throbbing underneath him, the head wet once more with the evidence of his need. I wrap my hand around him, and he grunts as I slowly stroke him.

'Do you think you can cum again for me?' My voice is low and husky in his ear, and he trembles slightly as I rub my thumb along his slit.

'I-if you k-keep doing that, I th-think so. Oh, fuck, Ron!'

'Good boy,' I rasp as I push into him, harder, faster, my hand around his hard shaft now keeping pace. I lean down and run my tongue up the length of his spine, making him whimper and arch against me, allowing me to reach deeper inside him. 'Fuck, that's it, Pet, you're doing such a good job. You take my cock so well, it's like you were made for it. Made for me.'

'Please, Ron!' His hips are moving eratically now, caught between thrusting into my fist and grinding back against my hips.

'Gods, I fucking love it when you say my name,' I growl, pumping into him and around him at an almost frenzied pace. 'Say it again for me, Love, as you cum. It sounds so good on those pretty lips of yours. Come on, Draco, cum for me. Say my name as you cum for me.'

'Fuck, Ron, I - ' He jolts under me as he spills into my hand, my name a choked prayer as he rides out an intense second orgasm. His muscles spasm around me and bring me to my own end. I bite into his shoulder to muffle the roar that escapes me as I cum deep inside him, slamming into him a few more times before stars dance in my vision and I have to stop.

Panting, I gently release my grip and ease out of him, both of us groaning at the loss and the muscle strain. Then we're flopping down next to each other on the sofa, and he makes a contented little sound as I drape my arm over his back. He cracks open one eye and grins at me lazily, lifting a hand to push my red hair out of my eyes.

'Your hair's getting so long,' he says sleepily as he plays with the locks.

'I've been meaning to get it cut for a while,' I mutter around a stifled yawn. Something hard flashes across his gaze.

'Don't you dare.' His voice is so firm that I laugh and pull him against me, rolling him so that I can slide in along his back, my knees tucked in under his, lips pressing gentle kisses along his shoulder. And I know he can feel my grin against his skin as he breathes, 'I love you, Weasley.'