May 26th, 2001
The sun had barely broken the horizon when Draco heard the incessant knocking from downstairs. Lugging himself from his overly comfortable bed, he trudged down the stairs and hauled open the front door heatedly. His eyes narrowed.
"Good morning, Sunshine!" Blaise chirped while pushing past Draco and letting himself in.
"For now, you need to shower and eat. The stylist will be here in forty-five minutes."
"The what?" Draco asked, voice hoarse.
"The stylist, Draco. Keep up. After that, we're flooing to the manor to go over the playlist and make sure everything is in order at the request of your mother," Blaise listed without looking at him. When he got nothing but silence, he looked up and took in Draco's appearance making him lurch away.
"Oi, did you sleep at all last night, Draco? You look-," Blaise paused, trying to find the least offensive word. "...tired."
Draco only blinked mutely.
"Right then, off to the bath."
Draco skulked back up the stairs and into his washroom, silent as a shadow. In the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom, he stripped off his boxers and stepped beneath the steaming cascade of water, surrendering himself to the heat. As the water poured down, it coaxed memories to the surface, raw and unyielding. His wedding eve had been a sleepless night, plagued by visions of everything he held dear slipping away, vanishing in the blink of an eye.
It was a fear he hadn't felt in years, and it was nothing like the resignation he'd once felt, the cold acceptance of his own possible demise. This was different- this time, he feared for someone else. And the weight of that dread was almost crushing.
He lathered soap on his skin, almost desperate, as if the act of scrubbing could wash away the fear creeping under his flesh. The foamy bubbles spiraled down the drain, and with them, he wished he could let go of the feelings that twisted around his heart. But with each burning drop, reality pushed in more insistently, reminding him of the world outside this brief refuge. He pulled his head back from the spray, fingers tracing back through his wet hair, and allowed himself a sigh.
Turning off the water, Draco stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist, leaving him facing his own reflection in the fogged-up mirror. At first, he only saw an indistinct blur, a faceless outline. Hollow. Even after everything, that's how he imagined the world saw him- void of humanity, defined by past sins no matter how hard he'd tried to escape them. The fog felt like a veil over his reflection, the same one the world seemed to drape over him, obscuring anything real in favor of the person he used to be.
With a rough swipe of his hand, he cleared the condensation, and his face began to emerge, sharp and clear- his eyes, his nose, his mouth. In the starkness of his own gaze, he could see the faint lines of age and strain, scars of the inner battles he fought daily that he was much too young to have.
There was a fire there, something that hadn't been fully extinguished, even after everything he had lost. His fingers tightened on the edge of the sink as he felt a flicker of resolve. This was his reality, yes, and he could not undo his mistakes, could not rewrite the past. But this time, he would not let fear rule him. He would face whatever came next with his eyes wide open, not because he wanted to, but because he needed to- for her, for them, and for himself.
Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting on a barstool having his head and hair tugged every which way as the supposedly renowned muggle stylist Florentine whatchamacallit snipped strands of his flaxen hair.
After sending Fluorescence on his way, Blaise basically shoved Draco in the floo, Blaise following a few seconds later.
A few minutes passed and Narcissa arrived carrying his robes with a delicate, almost reverent touch. They exchanged a few words in low tones, and he took the robes upstairs without lingering. Twenty minutes later, he returned to the parlour.
As he stepped through the doorway, a subtle shift fell over the room. Blaise's usual smirk faltered, his lips half-parted as he eyed Draco up and down. Narcissa's hand flew to her mouth, her gasp sharp yet soft, a sound that was part surprise, part awe.
Draco paused, the silence heavy on his shoulders. "Do I look alright, Mother?" he asked, his voice quieter than he'd intended, a faint tremor betraying his nerves.
Narcissa rose from the armchair, her eyes glistening, and reached out to touch his cheek. "Oh, my boy," she murmured, her fingertips soft against his skin. There was a tender pride in her gaze that he hadn't seen in years. She stepped back, taking him in. "Look at you. Strong, handsome, intelligent…" She paused, her voice growing thicker. "Kind."
The last word seemed to sting; Draco's face tightened, and his eyes fell away from hers. Kind wasn't a word he was used to hearing, certainly not one he felt he'd earned.
She caught his chin, tilting his face back toward her, her eyes unwavering. "I mean it, Draco. You may hide it, but you're one of the most caring souls I've ever known."
She lingered, her eyes tracing the contours of his face, her fingers brushing down his lapels, straightening invisible creases as though she could somehow keep time at bay with each gentle touch. "Where did the time go?" she whispered, almost to herself, and a few stray tears finally slipped down her cheeks. She dabbed at them quickly, composing herself with a sharp breath, though a slight tremor remained in her hand.
"You look wonderful, Draco," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it held the weight of all her pride and love. She let her fingers fall away, watching him with that knowing, unbreakable look. "And you're going to be a wonderful husband and father."
Draco held her gaze, and a small flicker of resolve steadied within him, caught between the shadows of his past and the possibility of what lay ahead.
The next few hours were a blur. He was dragged all over to help make sure everything was in order. And before he knew it, he was standing in the Manor gardens- the same place he used to pick flowers from- about to get married.
He stood on the altar looking over the crowd. His eyes narrowed as he saw Rita basically harassing the other guests as she hounded them with questions
"Despite your interesting past, you've turned out to be an alright fellow," Kingsley's bass rumbled. Draco nearly jumped out of his robes as he whipped around. For such a big guy, Kingsley was strangely quiet.
"Oh, uh, um, thank you... I guess," he sputtered.
Kingsley chuckled making his ears ring. He clapped Draco on his back which almost made him fall off the altar.
There weren't more than thirty people here. He could pick out a few familiar faces, Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Cho Chang, all the living Weasleys except for Ron- which he couldn't say he was too disappointed by- and a few others he recognized but didn't know the names of. He could tell a few of the guests he wasn't familiar with were only here for Hermione based on the skeptical or straight-up disdainful looks they were shooting his way.
He couldn't care less. The only person he needed was his bride.
As Draco stood at the altar, the bustling world around him faded to a gentle hum, leaving only the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat in his ears. The crowd, the decorations, even the crisp late spring air- all of it fell away. His universe had narrowed to a single point, his bride, and the sharp realization that in a few short moments, she would be his.
Then, there was Blaise, strutting down the aisle as though he were the groom himself, tossing winks at a few unaccompanied witches who stifled giggles behind gloved hands. With a playful smirk, Blaise leaned in, his voice low. "She's ready." Draco simply nodded, steeling himself as he straightened up. With a flick of Blaise's hand, the band started, filling the gardens with a gentle, reverent melody that seemed to glide over the heads of the gathered witches and wizards.
"You're in for it. She's beautiful, Draco," Blaise whispered, clapping him on the shoulder before he stepped back to his place, leaving Draco to take a deep, steadying breath. A spark of anticipation danced in his eyes.
First, Ginny appeared. Dressed in a deep, sanguine gown that gracefully swirled around her calves, she brought a hint of warmth to the cool tones of the evening. Her presence felt like a spark of firelight, controlled yet fierce, and Draco gave her a slight, respectful nod. She met his gaze with a confidence that only a Weasley could muster at a Malfoy wedding, then continued her path.
And then Hermione appeared, her arm linked with Harry's, and suddenly, Draco forgot how to breathe.
The sight of her hit him like an electric surge, warming him from his core to the very tips of his fingers. His heart seemed to beat in sync with her steps, as if the whole world had fallen into this shared rhythm. Her dress- a simple, silken sheath- seemed as if it had been made not of fabric but of stardust, wrapping her in an effortless glow. Delicate lace sleeves framed her shoulders, tracing down to her wrists with an ethereal grace, and the slight dip at her collarbone drew his gaze, leaving him mesmerized by the soft, olive skin that lay bare.
Her hair, curled and flowing like liquid silk, was pinned with understated elegance, tumbling down her back. But it was her smile that caught him. A tender, knowing curve on blush-pink lips- a smile just for him. And then, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he noticed her bouquet strategically positioned over the small, blossoming curve of her two-month bump. Clever, as always.
Time slipped into a strange flow, each step she took both agonizingly slow and too swift. Before he knew it, Hermione was in front of him, her fingers slipping from Harry's grasp as he took his seat beside Narcissa. She held Draco's gaze, her eyes warm and gentle, as she handed her bouquet to Ginny, her fingers brushing his as she took his hands in hers.
An almost imperceptible spark leapt between them as their hands connected, her smile widening just a fraction, like they were sharing a secret in the middle of all these watching eyes.
"Witches, wizards, and all in kind," Kingsley's voice echoed around them, but Draco barely registered it, his eyes tracing every delicate line of her face, memorizing her in this moment.
As Kingsley's voice echoed, "While a rather unlikely pair, they have beat the significant odds that were against them," Draco felt an odd pang in his chest, a reminder of just how hard-won this moment was. They stood here, woven into each other's lives by some rather difficult choices, through battles hard-fought and memories they could only share with each other.
"Does the bride or groom have any personal vows they'd like to say before the sealing?" Kingsley's voice broke the silence, his gaze warm but expectant.
"I do, actually," Draco said, feeling the words leave his mouth almost unbidden. He noticed the crowd stir, eyebrows lifting, as if no one quite believed he'd willingly open up like this. And honestly, neither did he- until he looked back at her. His jaw ticked as he heard Skeeter's camera begin to rapid-fire.
"Granger… Hermione," he began, his voice steady but soft, "you have shown me a kind of grace and forgiveness that I thought I'd never earn." The words hung in the air, vulnerable, but true. Hermione's thumbs began to rub gentle circles over the backs of his hands, grounding him in her warmth. Her touch made his resolve settle, a gentle reminder that she was there, really there, for him.
"You've brightened every day of my life since we've been together, even before I realized what you meant to me. Seeing your brilliant smile- it breaks through every wall, warms my heart, even on my coldest days. And hearing you laugh," he paused, his throat tight, "it's like no music I'd ever heard. You've brought color to a life I didn't realize was so... gray."
He glanced down, his last words almost a whisper, "I was living in black and white before you, Granger."
Hermione's fingers tightened on his hands, her eyes shining as she tried to blink back tears, swallowing thickly. "Bloody hormones…" she mumbled, and he let out a soft chuckle.
Kingsley turned to Hermione with a gentle, encouraging nod. "Is there anything you'd like to say, Hermione?"
"There was, but I'm not sure I can top that," she murmured, giving Draco a warm but mischievous look. A flicker of nerves showed in her eyes before she steadied herself, and he held her gaze, silently urging her on.
After a deep breath, she began, her voice soft but full of a quiet strength. "I'll admit, I had my doubts about you in the beginning. Everything we'd been through… I didn't think there was a way past it, a way to get here." Her voice wavered for a second, but she pressed on, her tone turning firm. "You proved me wrong, Draco. You tried, day after day, and that's more than I could've ever asked."
Her cheeks colored faintly, and she shifted slightly, her thumb tracing over his knuckles. "I see the way you work to make me happy, the way you care, not just for me but for those around you. And I know-even if every day felt impossible- you'd go to the ends of the earth just to make it right for me."
She swallowed, a shaky exhale leaving her lips. "I've grown to care for you more than I'd like to admit, and I can't imagine my future, or any future, without you in it."
Draco's throat tightened, a telltale sting welling in the corners of his eyes. He hadn't expected that simple, piercing honesty from her, nor the depth of it. She looked at him, unguarded, her expression one of quiet certainty. He smiled, a slight, trembling curve of his lips, knowing they were bound by something fierce, something hard-won and real, not just the set of circumstances that "caused" this. Neither knew it yet, but this day was a long time coming.
Kingsley pulled out his wand.
"Draco, if you'd hold her hand as well."
He slipped his right hand under her left one and held it firmly in his grip.
"Duo unum prompta ut. Corda tundentes ut unum. Animas tenetur in aeternum, (Two ready to be one. Hearts beating as one. Souls bound for eternity)" Kingsley recited quietly.
The golden coils emerged, glimmering softly in the setting sunlight, each strand winding gently around their joined hands like warm silk. The tendrils moved with a life of their own, delicate yet steadfast, wrapping around Draco's and Hermione's hands, binding them together in a shimmering web of light. They wove up their forearms, leaving a gentle, tingling warmth in their wake.
When the coils reached their forearms, they paused, shimmering before they began to slowly rotate, casting soft, flickering reflections onto their faces. The golden light pulsed in time with their heartbeats, creating a rhythm that felt as if it bridged their very souls. The air grew still, the crowd silent, everyone watching in awe as the ancient magic forged a bond between them- intangible yet unbreakable, as eternal as the light that now held them.
"Draco, do you take Hermione Jean Granger to be your lawfully wedded witch?" Kingsley asked tenderly
"I do," he replied easily, his firm tone devoid of any lingering doubt.
"Hermione, do you take Draco Lucius Malfoy to be your lawfully wedded wizard?"
"I do." There wasn't a hint of hesitation.
"By the power of Merlin and Morgana bestowed upon me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the groom," Kingsley announced cheekily.
Draco quirked an eyebrow but didn't have a chance to say anything before Hermione pulled him to her by his lapel and molded their lips together in a mind-numbing kiss. His arms encircled her waist and brought her closer. Distantly, he could hear the cheers, whistling, and fluttering camera but paid it no mind.
She broke his trance just as quickly as she'd started it leaving him bleary-eyed and slightly light-headed. She smiled brightly at him before gently pecking him on the lips again.
Draco entwined their hands as they stepped down from the altar and made their way back up the aisle, their guests cheering and tossing flower petals at the couple. They disappeared into the Manor while all the guests were ushered to the ballroom so the gardens could be promptly redecorated for the reception.
"Malfoy, where are you taking me?" Hermione questioned as he led her up the staircase.
"I just want to make sure you take a break before we go back. I don't want you stressed or anything," Draco admitted quietly. A smile formed on her face as she melted a little and nodded in acquiescene.
The old wood creaked beneath their steps, echoing softly in the silent hallway. The manor was shrouded in a hushed but buzzed atmosphere, its shadows flickering with memories that clung to the walls like faded tapestries. Hermione's curiosity was piqued as Draco guided her down the east wing, her eyes tracing the intricate carvings and worn, gilded frames that lined the hall. His hand was steady on hers, his grip warm and gentle.
They stopped at the door at the end of the hallway. Draco's hand lingered on the handle for a moment before he pushed it open, gesturing for her to step inside. Hermione's breath caught as she took in the room. It was surprisingly ordinary- walls painted in a deep but cozy shade of blue, shelves full of books, and even a few posters that seemed out of place in the otherwise formal manor.
"This is the room I grew up in," Draco said softly, letting the door swing open further.
"Wow," Hermione murmured, feeling the weight of the place as she glanced around.
"Wow?" Draco echoed, his tone teasing.
"It's just… it's normal," she admitted, brushing her fingers over the edge of a worn chair beside his bookshelf. The thought of him once curled up in that very spot felt strangely intimate, grounding him in a way she hadn't imagined.
Draco let out a low chuckle, leaning against the doorframe. "I wasn't born in a dungeon, Granger."
Hermione flushed, the hint of her embarrassment visible as she shot him a half-hearted glare. "I know. It's just that… well, you used to be such an evil little twat that I couldn't imagine you growing up anywhere… normal."
He snorted, a boyish grin playing on his face. "Fair enough."
Predictably, her attention drifted to his bookshelf, and he watched as she moved closer to the rows of books, each one a relic of his youth. Her fingers skimmed the spines as she glanced over the titles. Some were well-worn, others untouched, each telling a story of a boy whose life had been layered with both privilege and pressure. She rubbed her fingers together, dust coating her fingertips, and glanced back at him.
"You haven't been here in a while," she said, the observation laced with understanding.
"No," he admitted, stepping closer. "This is the first time since I moved out."
Her gaze softened. "You have an impressive number of books. I didn't know you were such an avid reader."
Draco's eyes gleamed with a trace of humor. "I was, in my younger years. But life got… complicated."
She paused, reading something in his eyes, her voice softening as she took a step closer. "That day, when the Snatchers brought us here…"
His face went still, the faint humor draining away, replaced by a wary tension. He met her gaze, and she saw the flicker of old shadows pass over his face.
Hermione reached out, gently taking his clenched fists in her hands. Her thumbs pressed into the knuckles, coaxing his grip to relax, until his hands softened in hers. "I remember when they called you to identify us. I remember how you looked at each of us in the eye and paused… on me."
He held her gaze, the memory cutting through the air between them like a blade. Her voice was barely a whisper, each word laced with an old sorrow that had haunted her ever since. "I saw the fear in your eyes, Draco. I saw how exhausted you were, how you seemed trapped, just as much as we were. I remember thinking… I'd rather face Voldemort than stand in your place."
Her eyes moved over his face, her look intense and searching. He felt laid bare under her gaze, exposed in a way that made him want to look away, yet he couldn't.
"I never thanked you for that day," she whispered. "For saving our lives, however much it cost you. I know you'd scoff, but… I realized then that you were braver than any of us gave you credit for. I might not be here today if it weren't for you."
Draco stood frozen, a rare silence stretching between them. No one had ever acknowledged the weight he'd carried, nor the lines he'd walked in those dark days. He could only squeeze her hands gently in response, the warmth of her touch speaking to something in him that had long been dormant.
Hermione's lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile, a tenderness he'd never seen directed at him before. She looked at him, their shared past heavy in the space between them, but in her gaze, he found a sense of absolution he hadn't known he needed.
"We should get back," she said, breaking their silence.
With their hands still intertwined, Hermione led them back downstairs and was about to enter the gardens when Draco stopped her. She turned around, questioning him with a quirk of her manicured brow.
Without warning, he pulled her into a sweet, tender kiss. While it was brief, Hermione heard every thought and felt every emotion as if they were her own. His warmth enveloped her, shrouding her soul in a promise…
"Come on, Mrs. Malfoy," he said gently before opening the doors.
Hermione hadn't actually considered changing her name, but it was then she realized she quite liked the sound of Mrs. Malfoy.
As Blaise's voice boomed across the gardens, announcing them to their friends and family, Draco felt a mixture of pride and awe as he held Hermione's hand in his. They stepped onto the makeshift dance floor, surrounded by blooms that glowed faintly in the golden evening light, casting a soft, dreamlike quality over the scene. An unfamiliar melody began to play- a gentle, haunting tune Hermione had insisted upon, something from the Muggle world she'd said, but one she assured him would be perfect.
He glanced down at her, feeling a surge of warmth as her face lit up with joy, her lips curving into a serene smile. With her hands resting in his, they began to move, each step slow and deliberate, as if they were the only two people in the world. The notes of the song drifted around them, mingling with the fragrant air and the soft rustle of leaves.
The last traces of sunlight dipped below the horizon, spilling shades of amber and rose across the sky. The dimming light cast an ethereal glow over Hermione's face as she rested her head against his shoulder, her curls brushing his neck. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of her, letting the warmth of her presence seep into him as they swayed to the melody.
A sense of peace settled over him, one he hadn't felt in years- maybe ever. As they turned slowly together, the world around them fell away, leaving only the quiet rhythm of their dance. Hermione's fingers brushed his shoulder, and he tightened his hold on her just slightly, feeling as if this moment might slip away like a passing dream.
The morose words of the song settled heavily in his chest. "There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors. When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours…"
He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, steady and calm, and he realized just how perfectly she fit against him. She looked up then, her eyes meeting his, her gaze soft and full of an unspoken promise. It was a look he'd never expected to find directed at him, a look that felt like it belonged to another life- a better one.
They moved together in the twilight, their steps syncing effortlessly as if they had been dancing like this all their lives. In that moment, Draco understood why she had chosen this Muggle song, why it mattered to her. It wasn't just a dance- it was a step into their new life, one where every fleeting second would be as precious as this one, woven together in a harmony that needed no words.
"And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are…"