The Pact

September 19, 1998

Time: 9:30 AM

Location: Briar & Birch Hollow

“You’ve outdone yourself, mum,” I say in awe, staring at the venue.

Narcissa beams. “Thank you, dear. Had to go all out for your special day, of course.”

Everything is perfect—which, considering the family I’m in, I don’t say lightly.

The décor is something akin to the Hufflepuff aesthetic I’ve grown to love and miss since I’ve finished school at Hogwarts. The backdrop is a gorgeous forest, dense with trees, their leaves all shades of burgundy, sienna, and gold. I can’t even express how much I love the pretty white arch, made entirely of Narcissa’s homegrown enchanted roses.

I said we could just buy them from a florist when we were planning, but she insisted. “Only the best for my daughter in law,” she said absentmindedly, not even realizing how much it meant to me. She grew the wildflowers for the arrangements and my bouquet too, enchanting them to match the colors of autumn, and to shimmer in the light.

“My father’s favorite color was crimson,” I told her, and she nodded. “Then I will make some crimson.”

The seating is a bit unconventional up the aisle—the chairs are akin to polished logs, matching the earthiness of the affair. There’s a seat reserved at the front with nothing more than a picture of my father. “In loving memory of Castor Alderwood,” the sign above it reads.

No one will disturb it.

Dobby—now head house elf, free, but refusing to leave my side—made quick work of the lighting, stringing up bundles and bundles of fairy lights, casting the aisle and every seat in a warm glow. He helped with the invitations, too.

“We would like to formally invite you to celebrate the marriage of Y/n Alderwood and Draco Malfoy on the 19th of September, 1998.” Then, in smaller writing at the bottom: “Please RSVP by owl to Narcissa Malfoy no later than the 1st of May, 1998, so we may inform the venue of the amount of guests. You are entitled to a plus one if applicable. We hope to see you there.”

The script on the invitations curls and loops in that eternally elegant Lucius Malfoy way, and the back has an engagement photo of me and Draco with “Briar & Birch Hollow” on the bottom in small text. The wax seal on the envelope it comes in is silver with the Draco constellation stamped on.

That was my idea.

Draco, for the most part, has been pretty hands off as far as planning and decorating goes. Not because he doesn’t want to get married—honestly he might be more excited than me—but he was banned from making creative decisions after he sent a howler to the bakery because “the options weren’t decadent enough for his future wife.”

I sent an apology letter with some sickles attached.

When I went dress shopping, I had an audience. Narcissa went, of course, because she seems to know what looks good on me even better than I do. I had my girls there, too—Hermione, Luna, Hannah, Pansy and Ginny (who are now happily together, their one year anniversary rapidly approaching), and Madeleine Leclerc, Aurélien’s fiancée, who I can only describe as absolutely wonderful. We all call her Maddie.

“I like that one,” Luna said airily. “Reminds me of stardust.”

“Yes, it’s perfect,” Maddie smiled brightly. “Enchanting.”

I looked in the mirror in the white gown, feeling distinctly like a princess. I nearly opted for a tiara, but Narcissa and Hermione went searching through the veils and found the most perfect one; longer than the train of my dress, hand embroidered with celestial images and constellations at the hem.

“We can make the Draco constellation sparkle,” Narcissa suggested, blinking back tears. I was already a mess at finding the perfect gown—her emotional display only made it worse.

Mione, Pansy, and Ginny clinked their champagne glasses together in celebration. Maddie, Hannah, Luna and I cried.

As with most of the things in my life, our wedding has taken on a celestial theme. I love it more than anything else I could’ve chosen. The sign at the entrance to the venue reads, “Pick a seat, not a side. The sun and moon will still rise.”

I came up with that one myself, thank you very much.

Time: 9:37 AM

Location: B&B Women’s Suite

As I head to the suite to start getting ready, the pre-wedding jitters are already getting to me. I haven’t seen Draco in three days—some stupid pureblood tradition. Superstition, really. I don’t appreciate it one bit.

I can still feel him, of course. I can tell he’s just as nervous and excited as me. But wow, there’s little that can compare to the stress of purposefully avoiding each other for a few days. The bond does not seem to like it.

Draco and I are the first couple in our friend group to get married. Everyone is paired off now, at least—Blaise met a lovely Ravenclaw named Verena, who has her own friend group but doesn’t mind ours; even Harry and Theo finally stopped dancing around each other last summer. Luna, in her whimsical fashion, has chosen to stay single.

“Relationships just aren’t for me,” she told us lightly one night at the pub. “I love loving people, but dating just doesn’t fulfill me in the same way my friendships or hobbies do. I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

We all just shrugged and changed the topic. Luna seemed content, and that’s all we cared about.

Come to think of it, we’re all quite content.

“Y/n! There you are,” Hermione exclaims, clearly a bit frazzled. “Okay, we’ve got a full schedule. The stylists will be here in about twenty minutes to start on our hair and makeup—you’re second to last, of course—and the photographer just apparated in. Your dress is hanging in the changing room, and we made sure to steam it so it’s in perfect condition. The first look with us girls is first, naturally, and then you’ll meet Draco’s side in that picturesque little drawing room so they can do theirs. I’ve been coordinating with Blaise—”

“Blaise?” I echo, chuckling. “He’s their head of detailing?”

Hermione sighs, exasperated. “Of course he is. The rest of the boys are too rowdy, Draco’s on edge, and Aurélien tries to make everything too dramatic—”

“Back up,” I say softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. “When you say Draco’s on edge…?”

Pansy flounces over, seeming to decide this is her time to chime in. “Theo said he’s been a nervous wreck, pacing a hole in the floor—said he’s even had spells going haywire out of nowhere.”

“What?” I blink, almost stunned.

Hannah nods. “Neville said Draco tried to drink himself into a stupor at the start of their bachelors trip because he couldn’t sleep without you.”

“That’s kind of sweet,” Maddie hums, a hand over her heart. “Sad, though. Poor thing.”

Luna nods in agreement. “Maybe his head’s full of nargles. They cause emotional dysregulation,” she says with a lilt.

“I have to go see him,” I say, already hopping up.

“No!” the girls all shout in unison.

Ginny jumps up as well. “You can’t see him before your wedding. It’s bad luck.”

Hermione grabs my hand quickly. “She’s right. Look, I don’t believe in all that superstition either, but we’ve already made it this far without tempting fate—”

“I have to,” I cut in, my voice firm but not frantic. “I’m not saying I’ll see him. I just… I’ll go see him without seeing him.”

They all blink at me in unison.

I gesture vaguely. “You know. Blindfolds. I’ll wear one. He’ll wear one. We’ll meet, briefly. Just to settle the nerves.”

There’s a beat of silence before Luna sighs dreamily. “That’s rather romantic, actually.”

Hermione hesitates, biting her lip. “Okay. Okay, that could work, I guess, but we’d have to be careful. Quick. Controlled. No one sees either of you. No peeking.” She looks around the room, thinking. “There’s that ivy-covered pergola on the north side of the garden. No one’s using it until the cocktail hour.”

Maddie smiles. “We can make it look like a wardrobe change.”

Pansy rolls her eyes but softens. “I’ll grab a scarf. I swear, you two are ridiculous.”

I’m already pulling off my earrings to prep. “Thanks, Pans.”

Hermione exhales sharply, smoothing her dress. “Alright. I’ll talk to Blaise. He’ll get Draco there—blindfolded—and make sure no one else sees him.”

She spins on her heel and practically runs out the door.

The second she disappears, Ginny turns to me, arms crossed. “If you mess up this no-seeing-each-other rule and your wedding goes to hell—”

“I’ll personally hex myself,” I promise.

“Fair enough,” she mutters, though she’s clearly holding back a grin.

Within minutes, Pansy returns with a soft black scarf and a smirk. “You’re lucky you’re marrying him. Anyone else and I’d be accusing you of being the dramatic one.”

“Please,” I laugh, accepting the blindfold. “That title belongs to my future husband.”

Luna giggles. “Technically, you and Draco share it. Like a couple’s crown.”

I adjust the scarf, holding it over my eyes with a flutter of nerves. “Let’s just hope my dramatic fiancé didn’t actually pace a hole in the floor…”

After a few distinct giggles, I feel two pairs of hands on my arms and my lower back, guiding me through the venue. I don’t love the feeling of walking around blind, but I’d do anything for my husband-to-be.

Time: 9:49 AM

Location: B&B Pergola

I hear the familiar sound of a door creaking open before my flats go from hard tile to soft ground, and I stumble a bit at the sudden change. Hannah and Hermione—of course it’s them, I can just tell by the sounds of their breathing—catch me effortlessly, giggling under their breath.

Our pace slows, but they don’t have to say anything. I feel Draco’s presence before I hear his voice, quiet and unsure.

“Y/n?”

My heart stutters at the sound of his voice alone, and our fingers intertwine effortlessly. Anyone else would’ve had to feel around blindly—not us. Never us.

“Hi, my love,” I say softly, squeezing his hand.

The anxiety in my stomach decreases by tenfold immediately, and I know it’s not just me. It’s him. Us.

Without another word, he pulls me against his chest. I wrap my arms around his torso, holding on tight, and he threads a hand through my hair, the other resting on my back.

“You’re not dressed yet,” he muses, feeling the soft fabric of my getting ready robes with his fingers.

“Neither are you,” I chuckle, my face pressed into the familiar fabric of one of his favorite t-shirts.

He laughs under his breath, and I feel it rumble through his chest. “I would’ve thought you’d start getting ready early.”

“I was going to,” I reply earnestly, “but I had more important things to tend to first. I literally came straight here.”

Draco sighs, melting into me. “I’ve been a mess without you,” he mutters into my hair.

“Me too,” I agree, inhaling his scent to steady myself. “I’m so bloody nervous. But honestly? I’m really—”

“Excited?” he chimes, his hand finding the crook of my neck, then my jaw. “I know. I can feel it. You’ve been buzzing all week.”

I lean into his touch, kissing the inside of his wrist. “So have you,” I hum. “You’re just less put together than I am.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” I smile. “But who can blame you, really? It’s hard to compete with this level of sanity.”

Draco laughs, full and open, like a flower blooming in spring. “You’re so right. What did I do to deserve you, really?”

I shrug, knowing that he can’t see it, but he can feel it. “Must’ve built up a lot of good karma somehow.”

I reach a hand up to rest on the nape of his neck, and I can feel him shake his head, exasperated. “Yes, well—whatever I did, I thank my lucky stars every day for you.”

“Jokes on you,” I quip, the heat of his body making me dizzy. “You are my lucky star.”

I don’t have to see him to know he’s smiling—I can feel that toothy grin from rooms away. It’s like the world gets warmer when he’s happy; or maybe it’s just me, his joy lighting up in my chest like sunshine.

“Alright, alright,” Blaise says from somewhere beside us. “As much as I hate to break you two up, there’s a lot of people that need to see you.”

“He’s right,” Hermione tuts from behind me. “We’re already running behind.”

Disappointment weighs down on both of our chests at the same time, but we know our friends are right. With a sigh, Draco leans down to my ear, whispering, “I’ll see you soon, darling.”

I giggle, pulling him in for one more quick hug. “I’ll be the one in white.”

Time: 12:20 PM

Location: B&B Gardens

“Alright, ladies,” the photographer claps, putting me in position. “The witch of the hour is here. On the count of three, you may all turn around to see her in full bridal glam for the first time. Ready?”

A chorus of, “Ready!” greets my ears as the photographer nods at me, signaling for me to hold the bouquet at my hips, and prepare for whatever is about to happen.

“Alright, then. One… two… three!”

All of the bridesmaids whip around at the same time, and in an instant, all of their faces light up, followed by jumping and shrieking and hands over mouths in awe.

Pansy lets out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a squeal. “You look like an actual goddess,” she says, rushing forward and grabbing both my hands as her eyes go glossy. “I mean—how dare you?”

Hermione is next, her mouth falling open as she blinks rapidly. “Oh—oh my Merlin, you look—” She doesn’t finish the sentence before she’s pulling me into a gentle hug, careful not to smudge any makeup or disrupt the veil. “You’re stunning. Truly. And the veil—the veil, Y/n. The constellations?”

“It’s perfect,” Luna says dreamily, circling me slowly, her wide eyes taking in every shimmer, every stitch. “You look like you stepped out of a painting. Maybe something Renaissance. No—older. Something enchanted.”

“You’re radiant,” Hannah breathes, clasping her hands to her chest. “Like… glowing-from-the-inside-out radiant. Neville’s going to sob just seeing you walk down the aisle.”

Ginny nods fervently, clearly trying to hold it together. “Draco’s going to pass out,” she says with a laugh. “I might actually put galleons on it.”

“You look divine,” Maddie adds, clasping my hands with a soft squeeze. Her voice is warm, her eyes kind. “I’ve been to a lot of weddings, mon ange—and I’ve never seen anyone look quite this magical.”

I laugh, touched beyond words, and blink fast to keep the tears in check. “You guys,” I murmur, looking around at the sea of faces I love so much. “You’re going to make me cry before the ceremony even starts.”

“Well, we had to match your energy,” Pansy says, fanning her eyes dramatically. “You look like the bloody moon incarnate, Y/n.”

“And your dad,” Hermione adds gently, glancing toward the bouquet in my hands. “He’d be so proud. The crimson’s beautiful.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat as I glance down at the flowers Narcissa enchanted. “He’s with me,” I say softly, smiling at the warmth that fills my chest. “All of you are.”

Luna reaches out, touching the edge of my veil with reverence. “Starlight and love,” she says, just above a whisper. “That’s what you’re made of today.”

For a moment, we all stand together in quiet awe, the soft hum of the enchanted garden around us, fairy lights glowing like fireflies in the trees. The leaves rustle gently in the wind, like the forest itself is bearing witness.

Then, Ginny claps her hands. “Alright! Enough emotions—we’ve got pictures to take!”

Hermione laughs, and the tension breaks as the girls move around me again, fixing the edge of my train, fussing over little details, fluffing the veil just so.

As the photographer lines us up for the next round of shots, I take in the sight before me. Each of my friends in matching floor length dresses in different shades of a muted fall pallet, each in a color that compliments them.

I love life.

Time: 1:10 PM

Location: B&B Drawing Room

I stand behind the closed doors to the drawing room, fidgeting with my bouquet once more as I listen to the photographer through the doors—positioning the groomsmen, putting them in the proper places, and instructing them about how to stand. I swallow nervously, adjusting my veil when I hear her muffled voice.

“Ready, Miss Alderwood?”

“Ready,” I call back, steadying myself.

There’s a moment of silence before I hear, “One… two… three,” and the doors swing open, revealing me to the groomsmen.

Their awe is different than the girls—quieter, more composed, subtle. But the way their eyes soften and their lips part tells me more than words ever could.

“Mon étoile,” Aurélien starts, breathless. He covers his mouth with his hand, already tearing up. “You look…”

“Wow,” Harry says, at a loss for words.

Theo lets out a low whistle, stepping forward instinctively. “Bloody hell,” he mutters, blinking like he’s trying to make sure I’m real. “You look like magic.”

Neville stares for a long moment before smiling so wide it nearly splits his face in two. “You look amazing,” he says softly. “He’s going to fall apart when he sees you.”

“Already has,” Blaise quips under his breath, shaking his head with a crooked grin. “And he hasn’t even seen her yet.”

Ron clears his throat, looking away, though I see the shine in his eyes. “Your dress… it suits you. I like it.”

Aurélien steps closer, his hand hovering near mine like he wants to touch but doesn’t dare. “Y/n… soleil, I knew you would be beautiful, but this…” He breathes out, eyes shining. “You’ve always been light. But this is… this is like watching the stars align.”

I smile, heart pounding, overwhelmed by the gentle reverence in the room. Each of them is looking at me like I’ve stepped out of a dream, but not one of them tries to steal the moment. They’re just… here. With me. Sharing it.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, visibly trying to keep it together. “You look happy,” he finally says. “Like—really happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

I laugh, blinking quickly as tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. “Don’t start,” I warn him, “or I will.”

Neville holds up a tissue like a peace offering. “It’s a safe space. No judgment.”

“Speak for yourself,” Theo jokes, brushing something invisible off his sleeve. “I’m judging all of us for not being emotionally prepared.”

Aurélien shakes his head, still not taking his eyes off me. “He’s not ready for this,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “None of us were.”

“He’s going to lose his mind,” Blaise adds with a slow grin.

Ron nods, huffing out a laugh. “And I can’t wait to watch it happen.”

I look around at them—my boys. My brothers in every way that matters. And just like with the girls, the weight of it hits me all at once. This is really happening. I’m getting married. And somehow, I’ve got all the right people in my corner.

“All right,” the photographer says, adjusting her lens. “Can we get one with all of you leaning in like you’re hyping her up before a big match?”

Immediately, chaos breaks out.

Theo and Blaise start pretending to coach me like a Quidditch captain giving final instructions. Aurélien kneels like a knight swearing fealty. Neville offers a flower from a nearby vase like a nervous suitor, and Ron pulls an electrolyte drink out of nowhere and holds it like he’s going to pour it into my mouth. And Harry? Harry just pulls me into a hug and whispers, “You’ve already won.”

And maybe I have.

Time: 1:50 PM

Location: B&B Pavilion

“Okay, this is your last first look,” the photographer tells me, leading me towards the white pavilion. “These are your parents, right?”

I nod, swallowing thickly. “For all intents and purposes, yes.”

She doesn’t press, just guides me and adjusts my dress. “Alright then. You look beautiful.”

I offer her a nervous smile and she takes that as her cue to call out, “Now.”

Genéviève is the first to step forward, gloved hand trembling slightly as she reaches out to touch my veil. “Ma chérie…” she breathes, voice thick with emotion. “You’re radiant. Just like I always dreamed you’d be.”

Étienne is beside her, eyes glistening, a rare softness on his face that I’ve only ever seen once or twice in my life. “And so sure of yourself,” he murmurs. “It’s a powerful thing, to walk toward your future without fear.”

From the other side, I hear Narcissa’s heels approach, slow and steady. When she steps into view, I can feel the pride radiating from her like warmth. “You are stunning, darling,” she says with quiet conviction. “Draco will be useless the moment he sees you.”

Lucius says nothing for a moment, simply observing me with a look I can’t place—like I’m a puzzle he’s only just solved. Then, with surprising gentleness, he offers his arm to steady me. “Elegance, strength, restraint,” he says softly. “I see it in you. And I know you’ll carry it into whatever comes next.”

I blink rapidly, overwhelmed by the weight of it—four of the most complicated people in my life standing together, united in this moment.

Narcissa reaches for my hand, smoothing down my sleeve with a practiced motherly grace. “You’re not just ready. You’re meant for this.”

“And you’re not alone,” Genéviève adds, voice steady now. “You carry both your worlds with you—our world, and the one you’ve made for yourself.”

Étienne chuckles softly, brushing something off my shoulder. “Leave it to you to bring magic and legacy and rebellion together in one gown.”

Lucius hums in agreement. “Just don’t let Draco faint at the altar. He’s dramatic enough as it is.”

They laugh—all four of them—and it’s disorienting, strange, but beautiful. Like watching two stars collide and somehow not burn.

In the time before I met the Malfoys, while I was at Beauxbatons, the Bordeau’s were the closest thing to family I had. I’ve called Genéviève “maman” since my second visit to their estate, when she patched up my knees after I fell trying a new leap for ballet.

Then, I transferred to Hogwarts, and my life changed forever. Lucius and Narcissa showed me what it meant to be part of their family, and I never wanted to leave. Narcissa doesn’t bat an eye when I call her “mum” anymore—in fact, I think she quite likes it.

For a moment, I’m the quiet center of their chaos. Their pride. Their hopes.

And I know—truly know—that I am more than the sum of where I came from.

“You look like a future,” Narcissa says.

“Yours,” Étienne affirms.

“And no one else’s,” Genéviève finishes with a nod.

Lucius offers the smallest, rarest of smiles. “Let’s go give them a wedding they won’t forget.”

And I will.

Time: 3:00 PM

Location: The Arbor Trail

From my quiet vantage point just out of sight, surrounded by trees that sway gently in the afternoon breeze, I take a deep breath. Sunlight filters through the canopy above, casting flickering patterns of gold and green on the path ahead. Somewhere in the distance, soft music begins to play—low strings and piano, warm and full of promise.

The guests hush as the ceremony begins. The first sign of the procession is not human at all—but magic. Tiny fairies shimmer into view, wings iridescent and delicate as dragonfly glass, their laughter like wind chimes. They flutter down the aisle, scattering petals of ivory roses and wildflowers, their hands glowing faintly as they choreograph their dance with ethereal precision. The petals float in the air for just a moment before settling on the mossy earth like soft stars.

Then come the first pair: Hannah and Neville walk slowly, breathing in sync, hands brushing once before linking gently. Hannah glances down the aisle with a soft smile, while Neville’s cheeks are faintly flushed, pride and awe written all over his face. When they reach the end, Hannah breaks off to take her place beside the officiant, her posture strong but graceful as she becomes the Maid of Honor.

Behind them, Hermione and Ron walk arm in arm. Hermione’s smile is radiant but misty-eyed, clutching her bouquet with the kind of calm that only comes from knowing everything is exactly as it should be. Ron looks uncharacteristically composed—shoulders back, jaw set—but his eyes never leave Hermione’s face as if grounding himself in her presence. Mione is second in command; she was almost the maid of honor, but she insisted she’d rather take the more formal parts of the job than the actual spotlight. Hannah was more than delighted to take it.

Aurélien and Madeleine are next, and their pairing is striking—elegance meets charm. Madeleine’s dress moves like water, her dark curls pinned with delicate blooms, while Aurélien offers her his arm with an affectionate smirk. Their steps are perfectly timed, but it’s the secret joke Aurélien murmurs that makes Madeleine’s face break into a full laugh, catching a ripple of joy that spreads through the crowd.

Pansy and Theo glide down the aisle like they’ve been doing this forever—cool, collected, sharp. Pansy’s heels click softly on the path, and Theo’s hand rests lightly over hers. They look like old portraits come to life—a moment in time both polished and deeply personal.

Then comes the wild card: Harry and Luna. She’s barefoot, of course, her gown trailing behind her like mist, and she’s placed a small daisy chain on top of Harry’s head, which he hasn’t taken off. He walks beside her with a mix of amusement and affection, and she’s humming to herself, completely in her element. When they reach the front, they separate naturally—like planets drifting into orbit.

Finally, Ginny and Blaise—a fiery duo, poised and magnetic. Ginny’s dress moves like flame in motion, and Blaise’s suit is tailored within an inch of its life. He offers her his arm like he’s stepping into a ballroom, and she rolls her eyes but takes it with a smirk. They command attention effortlessly. As they reach the altar, Blaise breaks away to join Draco’s side, standing tall as the Best Man.

He leans in to say something to him, and Draco laughs nervously. He wrings his hands together like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them, and I can’t help but grin.

I spot loads of familiar faces in the crowd—classmates, colleagues, even some of our old professors came to cheer us on. Sprout, Snape, and McGonagall RSVP’d within the first week of the invitations being sent out—Flitwick was close behind, and he sent Draco a letter about how pleased he was that the Amore Canis spell had some merit.

The parents of everyone in the wedding party are here, too; I’m particularly glad to see Moony and Padfoot, who are chatting up Augusta and the Abbotts. Catherine and Enora even came out to see me off—proudly sitting in the seats assigned to Mémé and Tatie.

And in the very back, tucked between some members of the Conseil, is Grace.

I don’t call her mother anymore—I hardly think of her as anything at all, really. All she did was give birth to me, and that’s about as much respect as I’ll give her. I have a mum now—Narcissa, and she would never let me down the way Grace did every day of my childhood.

As Ginny makes her final steps toward the end of the line, the air seems to still in anticipation. The guests, as if sensing the shift in atmosphere, begin to rise from their seats. One by one, their wands lift—not out of formality, but reverence.

Softly murmured incantations fill the air, overlapping in warm, familiar cadence as the guests cast simple charms of celebration and light. Gentle flurries of golden shimmer begin to rise from their wands like dust caught in a sunbeam, swirling gently around them in the soft breeze. Sparkles dance between the trees and hover above the petals scattered by the fairies. The Arbor Trail begins to glow, humming with magic and love.

And then—music swells, the world hushes, and the forest seems to hold its breath.

I clutch my bouquet tighter, take one last breath, and step out.

Something heavy falls over the crowd—not from any spell, but the weight of awe. My dress moves like water, like mist in moonlight, every inch of it kissed by magic. Behind me, tiny hummingbirds—glimmering shades of teal and rose gold—flutter in synchronized motion, their wings whirring softly as they lift my train and veil as if it weighs nothing at all.

I see Draco first—he’s devastatingly handsome. His wedding robes hug every line of his body perfectly, tailored to him in the way only he can pull off. The cape attached to his shoulders falls behind him elegantly, the fabric rich and shimmering like the night sky. Each metal clasp and cuff link catches the light harshly, making him look like something akin to a prince.

At the front, Draco turns.

And—in an instant—he falls apart.

The moment his eyes land on me, his breath catches so violently it makes Blaise reach out as if to steady him. Draco’s lips part. His eyes go wide, then crinkle at the corners like he’s been hit with something beautiful and unbearable all at once.

His jaw trembles.

Blaise mutters something like, “Merlin’s sake, pull yourself together,” but Draco doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. His hands grip the edge of his robes, white-knuckled and helpless. Every bit of composure he practiced vanishes in an instant.

Some invisible force pulls me forward. I’m thankful for it, really, because I think I’ve forgotten how to function.

I know the look I’m giving him—I can feel it. It’s formed on my face a thousand times before. Our first dance, first kiss, in between laughing fits and study sessions; when he picked me up and spun me around at his quidditch game, when I watched him play the piano, when he told me he’d always love me, bond or no bond.

Yes, I’m familiar with the way I’m looking at him now—like he hung the moon and stars, just to make me smile.

Time slows when I reach the altar, the officiant gesturing for me to step up in front of Draco. My movements happen without me; stepping up, handing off my bouquet, holding my hands out for Draco to take. But the second he does, I’m grounded back into reality, the moment hitting me like a freight train.

I’m going to marry the love of my life. Right now.

Time: 3:10 PM

Location: The Altar

“Wizards and Witches, distinguished guests—you may now take your seats,” the officiant calls out, his voice clear and warm, touched with a slight accent that speaks of old magic. As the guests settle, the golden sparkles still drifting gently in the air around them, he gives us a small smile.

“My name is Aldric Greaves,” he begins, bowing his head slightly, “and it is my great honor to preside over this union—not only as a Keeper of Magical Rites, but as a witness to something rare and true.”

He turns to us now—Draco’s hand still wrapped around mine, his thumb brushing slowly across my knuckles like he can’t believe I’m real.

“Today, we gather not to bind two souls together, but to acknowledge that they have long been entwined. The bond between Draco Malfoy and Y/n Alderwood is not new—it is ancient in feeling, even if young in years. It is stitched together by shared pain, defiant laughter, stolen nights, and the quiet knowing of each other’s hearts.”

There’s a shift in the air, a ripple of understanding through the crowd.

“This is not a ceremony of possession. No one gives anyone away. We are not here to change the course of their lives—but to honor the fact that their paths have already found each other.”

He lifts his wand, and a gentle golden ring of light forms around us—a sacred circle, pulsing with soft, ancestral hums. The kind of magic that lives in the soil and sky. It rises around our feet like mist and settles lightly over our shoulders, warm and weightless.

“Magic, as many of you know, is more than power. It is intention. Connection. Will. And love—true love—is the most ancient magic of all. It binds stronger than oaths, it weathers storms harsher than time, and it knows no bounds of blood, house, or history.”

Draco squeezes my hand.

I blink away the first sign of tears.

“This ceremony will not be long,” Aldric says with a hint of a smile. “For theirs is not a love that needs persuading or proof. It only needs to be spoken aloud—and heard by those who matter most.”

He glances at the crowd—then at us.

“So let it be heard.”

For the first time since I stepped out, Draco’s pure awe morphs into a shy smile. My heart melts and I squeeze his hands, wordlessly telling him everything I’m feeling. I think he gets my message.

“I understand you two have written out your vows to share on this day?” Aldric asks, more out of show than anything else. I blink, pulled back into reality, and nod.

Draco’s voice cracks slightly as he shifts his gaze to me, his eyes softening in a way I’ve never quite seen before. He clears his throat, the moment taking him off guard just as much as it’s taking me.

“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, stand before you today, not out of obligation,” he begins, his tone low and steady, “but out of desire. Because from the moment I met you, Y/n, I was… intrigued.” His lips twitch, trying to hold back the hint of a smirk. “Intrigued by your courage. By your ability to stand firm in your convictions, even when they are so different from mine. And, if I’m being honest,” he pauses, glancing down at our hands, “by the way you made me feel something I didn’t know was possible.”

He swallows, his throat bobbing as he gathers his thoughts. “You’ve always had this… unshakable confidence about you, a quiet strength that I didn’t understand at first. But over time, I’ve come to admire it. The way you carry yourself. The way you’re unapologetically you, even in a world that constantly tries to make you bend to its will. I admire you for that. For everything you are.”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine, and the world around us seems to fade.

“I know, as we stand here, that the bond between us is something… deep. Something older than us. Something that defies explanation and logic. It’s not just magic that ties us—it’s understanding. It’s respect. It’s the way you challenge me, but also the way you ground me. And it’s the way you look at me, even in my worst moments, and still see something worth loving.”

He chuckles softly, almost as if he’s letting go of something heavy.

“My love,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, “I promise you this: I will take care of you. In this life, and in every life that comes after this one. I will stand beside you, support you, and love you in ways that make you feel cherished, because you deserve nothing less. I will respect you, challenge you, and celebrate every single part of you—every moment, every breath, until the end of time.”

His eyes glisten as he speaks, and it’s as if the weight of his vows settles over both of us, binding us even further together in the purest sense.

“I promise to love you—not just as my wife, but as the very person I was meant to share every moment with. Forever.”

His voice softens, his expression vulnerable and full of wonder. “You are the sunshine that gets me up in the morning, the magic at my core, and you fill every inch of my heart with your presence. I love you, Y/n. And I always will.”

It takes every bit of my willpower not to sob or kiss him right now.

I hear sniffling from every direction, and when I finally look out at the crowd, I see hundreds of people dabbing their eyes and squeezing the hands of their own partners, as if reliving their ceremonies as well. Blaise gives Draco’s shoulder a squeeze; Hannah makes quick work of dabbing the tears from my eyes.

Once Aldric seems satisfied, he gives me a nod. I squeeze Draco’s hands in preparation, and he looks like he’s bracing himself.

“I, Y/n Cosette Alderwood, stand before you today with nothing more than an open heart, mind, and soul,” I begin, trying to steady myself. “It is rare in life to find someone who understands and loves you fully, unabashedly, and without hesitation. I’m happy to say I found that person for me, and he’s standing right in front of me.”

Draco swallows, already unraveling, but I press on. “Draco, I am so privileged to know you, but even more so to get to be the one who loves you. You match me in every way that matters, and where you don’t, you balance me out and hold me down to earth. That is something almost no one has been able to do.”

I inhale sharply, getting lost in the silver of his eyes, before a small laugh escapes me. “We’ve had our ups and downs, and we certainly didn’t always understand the weight of what we are to each other. But I can tell you this: the day I met you, the stars began to align for me. And the day I found out you were my soulmate changed the course of my life for the better.”

There’s a ripple of soft gasps through the crowd at the mention of the word soulmate—the bond itself is so rare that many don’t even believe in them. I couldn’t care less.

“The other bond we share—even before we knew what it meant—has been the greatest mercy of the universe. You asked me once if I would have liked you without it. I knew what you were really asking—would I love you anyway? Well, today, you have your answer.”

He quirks a smile at that, his eyes soft and watery. The amount of love swirling around inside both of us is so overwhelming it’s almost intoxicating. A single tear falls down his cheek.

“I promise to cherish you,” I start, swiping the tear away with my thumb, “to support you, to protect you to the best of my capabilities, and to never take you for granted. I promise to look for you in every room, to express my admiration no matter who’s around, and to love you openly, loudly, and to absolutely make it everyone’s problem.”

Laughter ripples through the crowd and Draco chuckles at that, his cheeks tinging pink. I take one last look around to soak in the moment. “You have shown me what true love is, and I promise to return the favor every day for the rest of forever. I love you, Draco, and I always will.”

As the final words of my vow hang in the air, time itself seems to pause.

Aldric nods, deeply pleased, and steps forward once more, the circle of golden magic still humming around us like a heartbeat. “With these vows exchanged,” he says reverently, “let us now seal this union with the ancient rite of rings.”

With a flick of his wand, a small velvet cushion appears between us, hovering on a cushion of air. Upon it rest two wedding bands—one of starlight-forged silver, the other glinting with soft hints of obsidian and platinum. Embedded in each ring is a tiny, glowing stone—each carved from the original Blood Pact crystal that once bound us by force, now reforged by choice.

Draco reaches for my ring first, his hands surprisingly steady as he gently slides it onto my finger. The moment the cool metal touches my skin, the embedded stone flares a brilliant white—light bursting outward like a soft explosion, wrapping around us in a radiant, whispering wind. The circle of magic pulses brighter, and a collective gasp rises from the guests. It’s not just the bond—it’s the transformation of it. The spell recognizes the shift: from compulsion to consent, from destiny to devotion.

I pick up his ring next, hand trembling slightly, and guide it slowly onto his finger. Again, the light bursts forth—brighter this time, as if the magic itself is rejoicing. The white light encircles us completely now, forming a protective cocoon that hums with warmth, love, and something older than time itself. The crowd is silent, rapt, as if they all know something sacred has just occurred.

The light slowly fades into a soft shimmer, still pulsing gently at our joined hands.

Aldric’s voice is quieter now, reverent. “And now… the vow that cannot be broken.”

He gestures, and a thin thread of fire-white magic begins to unfurl from his wand, coiling lazily in the air like a living ribbon.

Draco and I step closer, hands still entwined, our forearms brushing. He turns his hand palm-up, and I place mine face down, our forearms interlocked. Aldric wraps the white thread gently around our wrists, the thread crackling with energy. Once, twice, three times.

“Do you, Draco Malfoy,” Aldric begins, “swear upon your magic, your soul, and your very life, to honor, protect, and cherish Y/n Cosette Alderwood as your bonded partner, for as long as you both shall live—and beyond, if fate allows?”

“I do,” Draco says, voice low and certain. The magic tightens with a flash.

“And do you, Y/n Cosette Alderwood, swear upon your magic, your soul, and your very life, to honor, protect, and cherish Draco Lucius Malfoy as your bonded partner, for as long as you both shall live—and beyond, if fate allows?”

“I do,” I breathe, and the thread flares bright as lightning.

The binding seals with a thunder-soft crack, then vanishes into a final shimmer of light. Our fingers remain clasped, glowing faintly gold for a heartbeat longer before fading back to normal.

“It is done,” Aldric announces, his voice filled with solemn joy. “Your souls have chosen, your magic has answered, and the vow has been sealed. I now pronounce you: Mr. and Mrs. Alderwood-Malfoy. May your love hold true.”

The crowd erupts in applause and cheers, but all I can hear is the breath Draco lets out—a soft, amazed sound—before he tugs me into his arms.

And kisses me.

The magic is still in the air when his lips meet mine—bright, ancient, and alive. It feels like lightning and calm seas all at once.

When we pull apart, the crowd is still roaring, and I see Pansy actually wiping a tear. Blaise is grinning. Even McGonagall looks misty-eyed, though she’s doing her best not to show it. Narcissa has her hand pressed to her chest. And Lucius… Lucius watches silently, a strange, unreadable expression on his face.

But none of it matters. Not really.

Because Draco is still holding me like I’m the only thing that exists in this moment.

And I think I am.

Time: 4:30 PM

Location: B&B Dining Hall

As all the guests have settled in with their dinners, Draco and I included, Aldric taps his glass with his fork, calling everyone’s attention.

“Now, as is traditional, we have the privilege of listening to two of our newlyweds’ closest friends—who will share, undoubtedly, their favorite and most embarrassing stories of Draco and Y/n.” The guests chuckle lightly and he lets it die down before speaking again. “Without further ado, would Blaise Zabini and Hannah Abbott please make their way to the front?”

A round of polite applause echoes through the room as Blaise stands, eternally elegant, and walks over to Hannah, who takes his arm gracefully. They walk up to the front, wands in hand, and Blaise presses his to his throat to amplify his voice. His speech is first.

I can feel Draco tense beside me in preparation.

“Hello, everyone. As some of you may have gathered from the general air of taste and smugness, I am Blaise Zabini. And I have had the truly—well—exhausting experience of being Draco’s best mate since we were eleven.”

Draco groans as the guests laugh, and Blaise shoots him a wink. “And sure, I could tell you a million stories about our time at Hogwarts. Like when he turned his eyebrows green trying to impress a girl in third year, or when he lost a bet and had to read Tales of Beedle the Bard out loud to the common room. Complete with voices.”

Draco shakes his head beside me, trying to seem annoyed, but even he can’t contain his smirk as the room erupts with giggles.

“But today, because I’m so kind—I’m going to give him a break, and instead tell you what I know about Draco Malfoy as a person.”

His tone takes on a more serious edge as he looks at us, confident and steady. “I’ve seen Draco in all seasons of his life. I’ve seen him arrogant and unsure, kind and cruel, broken and whole. But I have never—and I mean never—seen him look at anyone the way he looks at Y/n.”

Blaise locks eyes with me and my throat starts to tighten as he presses on. “From the moment she entered his life, Draco began to change. Not immediately, or all at once—slowly, surely. He became softer around the edges, happier, more himself. He couldn’t explain the change at first, but I knew—we all knew—he was in love.”

Draco squeezes my hand under the table, and I don’t have to look at him to know he’s tearing up. I am too.

“He had crisis after crisis about her, completely panicking whenever she would go a while without talking to him, or worse, talking to other men,” Blaise teases, feigning dramatics. “Oi, she hates me. She’s never going to talk to me again. I swear, I’m going to hex that Ravenclaw for ever looking in her direction,” he mocks in a high pitched voice.

Draco rolls his eyes beside me. “I do not sound like that.”

Another ripple of laughter bubbles through the room as Blaise chuckles at his own joke. “But when she would acknowledge him, when she went out of her way to talk to him, to try to be his friend, no less? Oh, it was so much worse,” he quips, groaning. “Instead of sulking silently or picking fights with random first years, he’d chatter on and on about Y/n and how bright she was—‘You don’t get it. Lavigné would understand’—her little quirks—‘You know she sticks her tongue out when she’s focusing?’—and every detail of what she did that day. Once, he walked me through her entire class schedule and told me which classes were her favorite. I didn’t even ask!”

I giggle lightly at Draco’s pink cheeks, leaning over to kiss his temple. “You’re so cute,” I whisper, causing his face to grow even more red.

He just shakes his head, covering his face with his hands. “Shut up, I was fifteen!”

I laugh once more before turning my attention back to Blaise, who resolves himself to something slightly more serious again.

“All that aside, though—Y/n, thank you for giving my best mate a reason to laugh again. For putting the light back in his eyes and the confidence back in his step. But most importantly—and I can’t stress this enough—thank you for taking over as the person who has to put up with his nonsense,” Blaise quips, pulling a giggle out of me and the guests before raising his glass. “To our newlyweds.”

“To Draco and Y/n!” the crowd toasts in unison, clinking glasses of champagne together. Draco pulls me closer to him and presses a kiss on my cheek that I melt into.

Once the chatter dies down, Hannah takes Blaise’s place, looking a bit nervous as she presses her wand to her own throat. “Uh—hello everyone. My name’s Hannah Abbott, and I’m pleased to be here tonight.”

Everyone stops talking, attention pulled to her. She shifts her weight. “I’ve had the honor of being Y/n’s best friend, roommate, and personal mind healer since fifth year.” A few people chuckle, and she starts to loosen up.

“When Y/n first came to Hogwarts, no one knew what to make of her. She was poised, elegant, and very… French. But I claimed her as my own before anyone else could get the chance to—sorry fellow Hufflepuffs!—and I couldn’t be more glad that I did.”

A warm smile spreads across my face and Hannah mirrors it, blushing just a little. “Anyone who knows Y/n is incredibly lucky—she’s smart, resourceful, absolutely hilarious, and—above all—kind to a fault. When she loves you, she gives everything she has to protect you and make you feel wanted. And that kindness has a way of disarming even the most stubborn people. Even Draco.”

Draco rubs his thumb over my knuckles absentmindedly, warmth radiating off him in waves. I wonder if anyone else has noticed how choked up I am right now.

“When Y/n met Draco, we were at the darkest point in our lives, and everything around us was crumbling. But not her—never her. She wouldn’t let herself crumble, wouldn’t let herself fall apart, for the sake of all of us. But the one person I saw her be vulnerable with, without any hesitation, was him.”

She taps the side of her glass with her finger, as if thinking for just a moment. “I still remember the moment she realized she loved him. She didn’t say it in so many words—but I knew. She told me he felt like hope. Like maybe there was a version of her life where she wasn’t just surviving, but where she was living. That was the moment I knew that, for better or worse, she would always be in Draco’s corner—even if he didn’t want her there.”

Hannah pauses, her eyes finding mine again, a shimmer of unshed tears making them glassy. “And Merlin, am I glad he did.”

A soft ripple of laughter spreads across the room, but the emotion hangs there too, like the glow of candlelight caught in crystal. She breathes in once, carefully.

“Draco, you have no idea how long we hoped you’d catch up. And you did. You rose to meet her. Not just in grand gestures, but in all the quiet ways that matter most. In the way you listen to her. Protect her. Encourage her to be soft when the world demands she be hard. You love her like she deserves.”

My chest tightens with the force of it all, and I feel Draco turn just enough to press a kiss to my temple, his breath a whisper against my skin.

Hannah’s voice lifts slightly now, sure and proud. “So here’s to the two of you—for finding each other in the storm, for choosing each other again and again, and for proving that love doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful. It just has to be real.”

She raises her glass. “To Y/n and Draco.”

Another chorus of clinks and cheers. This time, it’s gentler—like everyone knows they’ve just witnessed something a little sacred. I lean my head against Draco’s shoulder and feel the way his hand tightens around mine.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs low enough that only I can hear, “we’re really married.”

I laugh, a little teary, and whisper back, “Yeah. And somehow, they all still like us.”

“Debatable,” he says dryly, and I elbow him, laughing harder.

The speeches end, and the music swells, a gentle orchestral piece that floats through the space like a lullaby made of strings and magic. The servers move through the tables again, offering more wine, second helpings of the main course, slices of enchanted fig tart and cream.

But I hardly notice.

Because when I look at Draco—his eyes soft, his smile crooked, his fingers still wrapped in mine—I know that everything that matters is already here.

Right now. Right in front of me.

Time: 5:45 PM

Location: B&B Ballroom

The main event of the wedding, of course, is the party after the formalities. There’s not much we had to do planning wise for the end of it—after all, it’s mostly dancing and (slightly drunk) guests in the ballroom. Doesn’t get any simpler than that.

The only part that’s really planned, per se, are the first dances of the night.

The father daughter dance, the mother son dance, and, of course, our first dance together as husband and wife.

I’ve been a mess about it since we first started putting it together.

“It’s just not fair,” I cried to Narcissa, arms wrapped around my torso to hold myself together. “Draco has both of his parents—and I have neither of mine.”

“Your mother might come,” she offered gently, patting my knee. “But I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you without your father, dear. Truly.”

I sniffed, wiped my eyes, and looked down at the binder helplessly. “What am I going to do?”

Lucius, who had snuck into the parlor silently like a cat, startled me by taking the binder out of my lap and writing something down. When he gave it back, his name was written in the time slot for the father daughter dance.

I blinked up at him, eyes red and teary. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking,” he countered easily. “I’m offering. You mustn’t be my blood to be my daughter, Y/n. I’ve been caring for you long enough. Daughter, daughter in law—it all means the same to me.”

There was something unreadable in his expression, but his eyes were soft. I nodded and muttered out a weak, “Thank you,” to which he responded, “Thank me by showing everyone why I’m right to be proud of you.” I stole a hug that day.

Draco pulls me out of my thoughts, his voice low and reassuring. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can still call the whole thing off—hell, we can run off to our honeymoon early if you say the word.”

I chuckle softly, smoothing an invisible wrinkle out of my dress. “I’m okay. It’ll be fine.”

We can hear the chatter of the guests through the doors to the ballroom as we sit and wait for Aldric to come fetch us. Narcissa and Lucius are already inside, waiting for the two of us to get announced one last time before we spend the rest of the night partying.

There’s a slight chill to the foyer away from all the body heat—Draco notices the prickles on my arms and wraps his arms around me while we wait. The unease in my chest settles a bit as I focus on his heartbeat under my ear.

The heavy double doors creak open just enough to let Aldric slip through, his face glowing with the kind of delighted pride you only see at weddings. “Ready, you two?” he asks, voice low. “They’re finishing up the toast, and then you’re on.”

Draco squeezes my hand once before rising to his feet. I follow, legs a little shaky but steady enough—especially with him beside me.

The music shifts behind the doors, the muffled sound of string instruments picking up into a warm, grand waltz. The chatter dies down. Aldric nods once and opens the doors fully.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer calls, “please welcome our guests of honor for the tearjerkers of the evening—the father daughter and mother son dances.”

A round of applause swells from the ballroom, joined by some polite cheers and champagne glass clinks. I barely register it. My eyes scan the crowd quickly before landing on Lucius and Narcissa standing on opposite sides of the floor.

Draco lets go of my hand gently and turns to me with a soft smile. “See you on the other side.”

I nod and watch him stride across the ballroom, all polished elegance and composed confidence. He moves toward his mother, who is already holding out her hand, her expression equal parts proud and emotional. Narcissa leans in to whisper something, her fingers brushing the side of Draco’s face as he gives her a rare, genuine smile. The string quartet shifts into a gentle, sweeping melody.

Meanwhile, I draw a breath and head toward Lucius.

He’s waiting for me near the edge of the floor, hands clasped behind his back, his posture as upright and intimidating as ever—except there’s something unmistakably softened in his gaze as I approach. Like he’s holding back something he doesn’t want to show everyone else.

I curtsy slightly—playful more than formal. “Care to dance, Mr. Malfoy?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, offering his arm with the tiniest of smirks. “I suppose I can spare you a dance, Mrs. Alderwood-Malfoy.”

“Still weird hearing that,” I admit as I rest my hand in his.

“You’ll get used to it,” he replies smoothly. “Still don’t understand why you chose to hyphenate instead of just taking Malfoy, but I suppose that’s none of my business.”

The music flows around us as we step onto the dance floor, Lucius surprisingly graceful for someone who’s probably never smiled during a party in his life. His hand rests lightly at my back, guiding me easily into the rhythm. The ballroom lights glow golden above us, casting warm reflections off the crystal chandeliers and making the polished floor shimmer underfoot.

All around us, people are watching—but for this moment, I don’t care. My chest aches a little, but not from sadness anymore. It’s something gentler. Healing.

Lucius leans down just slightly, murmuring, “You’re doing well.”

I glance over and spot Draco with Narcissa. He’s laughing at something she said, cheeks tinged pink, all warmth and light. My heart tugs.

“Thank you,” I whisper back to Lucius, holding his gaze. “For everything.”

He gives me the barest of nods, almost imperceptible. “Your father would have been proud, Y/n.”

My eyes sting again—but I manage to hold it together. Just barely.

“I know what it’s like, you know,” Lucius says suddenly, his voice low.

He catches me off guard, enough for me to furrow my brow. “What what’s like?”

“The grief,” he replies gently, twirling me and pulling me back to him with a practiced hand.

“Oh,” I say quietly, my grip on his hand tightening.

He nods, squeezing my hand in return. “You’ve done well keeping it together today. Without Castor,” he explains, his eyes locked on mine. “But I can see that it’s weighing on you.”

“It is,” I confirm, looking down at his feet. “I miss him every day. I thought it would fade with time, and I thought it did, for a while—but his absence is so much bigger at important events. Birthdays, Christmases, graduation. But my wedding?” my voice breaks. “This one might be the worst.”

Lucius places my hands on his shoulders, resting his on my waist to pull me into the dance equivalent of a hug. “I know how it feels; to look grief in the face and swallow it whole. Not for your own sake, but for the sake of everyone around you,” he hums, his voice soft and knowing. “But you don’t have to do that today. No one would blame you.”

I rest my head against his chest, willing the tears not to come. “I just—this is supposed to be the best day. A happy one. For me and Draco. It feels selfish to take away from that.”

Lucius shakes his head, wrapping his arms around me tighter in a true embrace. “You are the furthest thing from selfish. Don’t ever say that about my daughter.”

I can’t stop the tears from spilling as he says it, so confident and sure. Lucius and I have always had a complicated relationship, but to hear him say that, with zero hesitation?

Maybe it’s not so complicated after all.

“Your wedding is what you make of it. Laugh, cry, jump off the roof—it doesn’t matter what you do,” he whispers, pulling a weak chuckle from me. “Just take it as it comes, one step at a time. The pain doesn’t cancel out the joy—they can coexist.”

As the final notes of the song begin to trail off, Lucius gives me one last twirl, steady and deliberate, before guiding me gently to a stop. The applause rises once more, echoing like soft waves off the ballroom walls.

I sniffle and he bows, kissing the top of my hand. “Go make the most of it. Not for us—for yourself. Do you understand me?”

I nod, curtsying back. “Yes, sir.”

And then, the music pauses—only for a breath—before the band swells again with a new melody. Narcissa kisses Draco’s cheek and steps away just as Lucius does the same with me, offering me a reassuring wink before he holds his arm out for his own wife and guides her off the floor.

Draco locks eyes with me, and time freezes for one heavy, fleeting moment.

Then he smiles, and the gravitational force that is my husband pulls me back to the ground.

He steps forward slowly, his hand outstretched toward me like we’re the only two people in the room. And maybe we are. Maybe the applause and the whispers and the clink of champagne glasses have all faded into background noise because all I can hear now is the music—and him.

Draco’s eyes flicker down to my tear-stained cheeks for just a second, and without saying a word, he brushes his knuckles along my jaw, gentle and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to memorize this moment.

“You okay?” he asks softly, just for me.

“I am now,” I whisper, placing my hand in his.

We step toward each other just as the ballroom begins to change.

The ceiling, already enchanted, shifts slowly from gold-and-crystal grandeur to a velvety night sky, stars blooming into place one by one like fireflies in ink. A soft hush falls over the guests as an enchanted full moon drifts into view above the dance floor, casting silvery-blue light across the polished floor like ripples on water.

Draco slips his arm around my waist, and I press my hand to his chest, our fingers interlacing naturally like they’ve done a thousand times before. The melody slows into something dreamlike and wistful, the kind of song that belongs to starlit skies and whispered promises. He begins to sway us into the first step, guiding me easily, effortlessly.

“I told you it would be okay,” he murmurs, lips brushing close to my temple.

“You were right,” I breathe, leaning in. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

He chuckles softly, pulling me closer as we drift across the floor. The moonlight catches in his hair, turning the platinum strands silver, celestial. He’s not Draco Malfoy, heir to some legacy or name or fortune. He’s just mine.

I can hear the swell of magic in the room, quiet and reverent—like even the enchantments are holding their breath for us.

We turn slowly, and I catch a glimpse of Narcissa watching us from the edge of the floor, her head resting lightly on Lucius’s shoulder. Her eyes glisten, proud and maybe a little wistful. Lucius stands behind her with one arm around her waist and the other hand loosely tucked into his jacket pocket, watching us the way a king watches the stars—distant, but undeniably moved.

Draco dips me slightly, not enough to be flashy—just enough to make my breath hitch—and when he pulls me back up, his forehead rests against mine.

“I love you,” I murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

His eyes close, lashes kissing his cheekbones. “I know,” he says with the faintest smile. “I love you more.”

I laugh under my breath, and we keep moving—just the two of us beneath an enchanted moon, stars swirling above our heads, hands entwined like they were always meant to be.

And for the first time all day, I don’t feel the ache of absence. I feel full.

Whole.

Home.

As the final note fades into silence, Draco doesn’t let go. He presses a soft kiss to my knuckles, then another to my forehead. And only when the applause rises again—gentler this time, more emotional—do we finally turn to face it.

Hand in hand, heart to heart.

Husband and wife.

Time: 7:23

Location: B&B Ballroom

“Come on, have another drink with us!” Ginny yells over the loud music.

“Yeah, the bartender makes a killer Felix Felicious!” Pansy laughs, pulling Ginny closer as the alcohol works through her system.

I shake my head, laughing. “I’m already tipsy—you know I’m a lightweight. Gotta let it settle first.”

“Boring,” Hermione giggles, practically singing the word as she drags every syllable. “Sure you don’t want a Snitch and Twist? They’re so good.”

“How many of those have you had?” Neville asks, more than a little concerned.

Hermione shrugs, counting on her fingers. “Four? No—six? Between five and eight,” she settles on, taking another swig.

Neville’s eyes widen. “Hermione.”

She winks at him. Winks.

“Oh, don’t be such a Prefect, Longbottom,” she says, stumbling a little as she tries to lean against the bar and instead almost leans off of it. Ginny catches her with a snort, nearly spilling her own drink in the process.

“I’ve never seen her like this,” I whisper to Draco, who’s watching with thinly veiled amusement as Blaise Zabini—Blaise, who is normally too cool to even sit improperly—is currently arguing with a house elf about who looks better in velvet.

“I told you already, we’re clashing, Spriggan,” Blaise says, frowning dramatically at the elf’s burgundy vest. “I can’t stand it.”

“You are not even wearing velvet, sir.”

“Exactly. Which means I should be.”

Across the room, Seamus is teaching Luna how to Irish step-dance on a magically lit square of floor. Luna is wearing someone else’s hat, one boot, and what appears to be a feathered shawl that definitely wasn’t part of her outfit an hour ago.

Ron is in tears laughing, holding a drink that has turned from blue to pink to green over the past five minutes. “I swear—I swear, if Hermione starts quoting Hogwarts, A History while smashed, I’m going to lose it.”

“Actually,” Hermione says, straightening like she’s about to give a speech, “Did you know that enchanted ceiling enchantments date back to the 14th century? But modern implementations were—”

“Nope!” Harry cuts her off, swooping in and gently redirecting her back to the dance floor like a pro. “Time for more dancing, less trivia.”

“I like trivia,” she whines, pointing her half-empty drink at him like it’s a wand. “And Blaise promised he’d dance with me if I finished this one!”

Blaise, currently holding a glass of something suspiciously glittery, raises it in her direction. “You did, and I shall—after I win this fashion war.” He shoots Spriggan a side-eye, and the elf just shrugs in utter defeat.

Draco leans over, murmuring in my ear, “I knew putting an open bar next to a magical potion mixer was going to be chaos.”

“You love it,” I reply, elbowing him lightly.

He shrugs, smirking. “Alright, yeah, I kind of do.”

Just then, Ginny lets out a loud whoop, dragging Pansy onto the dance floor as the music shifts into something fast and dramatic. Dean spins Lavender like he’s in a musical, and someone summons confetti to rain down over the floor in shimmering gold and silver sparkles.

Hermione throws her arms around Blaise’s neck as he spins her, both of them laughing so hard they can barely stand. It’s chaotic, loud, and a little ridiculous—but perfect.

“This,” I say, watching them all, “is exactly what I needed.”

Draco smiles, watching his friends make fools of themselves under enchanted starlight. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Me too.”

Just as I reach an arm out to stop Hannah from tumbling into the woman behind her—one of my colleagues from the Conseil, I realize, that was close—a familiar voice rings out from behind me.

“Having fun wrangling our friends together, mon étoile?”

I turn to see Aurélien and Maddie arm in arm, watching me with bemused smirks on their faces. “They’re going to burn the place down if we’re not careful.”

Aurélien chuckles, swirling the wine in his glass with the kind of effortless grace that makes it deeply unfair he’s not clumsy like the rest of us tonight. “And yet, somehow, you’re still the one in charge. Even in your wedding dress.”

Madeleine lifts her own glass, her heels perfectly planted despite the chaos unfolding around us. “Cheers to that. The bride, ever the responsible one.”

“I am not in charge,” I argue, glancing around in mild panic as Hermione begins an impromptu game of limbo with a levitated wand and Blaise volunteers to be the first contestant. “I’m just trying to keep us out of international headlines.”

“Please,” Maddie scoffs lightly. “This is tame by Beauxbatons standards. At Aurélien’s cousin’s wedding, a guest turned into a flock of flamingos after a duel broke out over a dessert fork.”

“That was one time,” Aurélien says, pointing a finger at her with mock indignation. “And you can’t prove that was my fault.”

She gives him a perfectly polished look over her wine glass. “Your wand was still sparking, mon cher.”

He grins. “Fine. But you must admit, it was memorable.”

Draco sidles closer to me, eyebrows raised. “Should I be worried you brought international chaos agents to our wedding?”

I smirk up at him. “They’re contained—for now.”

Aurélien raises his glass toward Draco in a faux-toast. “Don’t worry, Monsieur lune. We’re the elegant kind of chaos.”

“Speak for yourself,” Maddie mutters just as Ginny stumbles by and yells, “WHO WANTS TO TRY A DOUBLE SPIN?!” before dragging a wide-eyed Theo Nott into the middle of the floor.

We all watch in silence as Theo flails, spins, and very nearly lands in the cake before catching himself at the last second.

Aurélien takes a slow sip of his wine. “…Well. Mostly elegant.”

Draco laughs under his breath and offers his arm to me again. “Shall we rejoin the madness, darling?”

“I suppose we must,” I sigh with mock resignation, taking his hand. “Can’t let them have all the fun without us.”

“Don’t worry,” Maddie calls after us, already finding a seat with a perfect view of the dance floor. “We’ll keep your wine safe.”

“And your secrets,” Aurélien adds with a wink.

Draco leans down as we walk. “Should I be concerned about which secrets he means?”

“Absolutely,” I whisper back, grinning.

Time: ?

Location: B&B Gardens

I won’t lie—I’m a little woozy right now. I’m not sure exactly what time it is, but I know it’s somewhat late. The sky is a deep, velvety black, and the flowers in the garden are glowing with a bioluminescent blue aura, making everything feel soft and hazy.

The reception got a little stuffy and overwhelming with all the bodies pressed up against each other, smelling like a bar mixed with a perfumery. My head is pounding—though that could be a warning for the nasty hangover I’m sure to get in the morning.

I’ve transfigured a blanket out of a leaf, laying it down on the lush grass for a place to relax. Draco is tucked into my side, pointing up at the stars for old time’s sake, firewhiskey present on his breath, warm and woodsy.

“There’s me,” he says with a soft laugh, moving his finger just so, “and there’s Sirius. Regulus is over there, if you tilt your head a little, and there? That’s Orion.”

I know all the constellations by now—it’s inevitable when you date a Black or a Malfoy—but I never get tired of watching him point them out to me.

“That one’s Scorpius,” he adds, his tone laced with awe. “That’s what I want to name our son. Had the name picked out since I was eight.”

My heart constricts as I turn to face him. “I still haven’t… I mean, Catherine has been researching, Hermione too, but—I still don’t know if that’s in the cards for us,” I whisper, swallowing thickly.

Draco looks at me for a moment before lacing our fingers together. “I know. If it never happens, that’s okay,” he says earnestly, brushing his lips over my knuckles. “I’ll be perfectly content with my future if you’re the only one in it.”

“But you’ve always wanted kids,” I protest, laying my head back with a sigh. “What if… what if that’s not enough?”

Draco props himself up on his elbow, looking over me. “You’re enough. You’re more than enough. Everything I need is right here.” He leans down to kiss me, his fingers lightly grazing my jaw before he pulls back, fixing my hair. “I want kids, yes. And I have a good feeling about it. I don’t know what it is, I just—I can’t explain it. All I know is that deep down, I believe it’s going to happen for us. Somehow.”

“Merlin, I hope you’re right,” I sigh, holding back tears. “I don’t know how much more I can take. The rituals are long, painful and exhausting.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I cut him off, subconsciously holding my stomach. “I’ve always wanted to have kids. It wasn’t—that chance was taken from me. I’d do anything to get it back.”

Draco studies me with a heavy gaze, and I can feel his worry. “You should let me come with you when you do them.”

“I can’t,” I whisper. “It’s too dangerous. I refuse to put you in a position that could get you hurt.”

“We have the bond,” he counters, shaking his head. “I’m protected from—”

“From spells, Draco,” I finish for him, shaking my head. “Rituals are different. They can go wrong in a million ways that the bond doesn’t protect us from. A shield doesn’t help when you’re being attacked from within.”

Draco just sighs, laying on his back once more. He pulls me on top of him, like I weigh nothing, and slowly threads his fingers through my hair. “I trust you and your judgement. I do. Just promise me, if you need me, you’ll ask.”

“Of course I will,” I hum into the crook of his neck. “I know my limits now. I won’t push them if I don’t have to.”

“Good,” he says simply, his low voice reverberating through his chest. “Because no matter what, if you call, I’ll drop everything to come to you. Always.”

I smile to myself, planting a small kiss on his jaw. “I know you will. That’s why I married you.”

“Oh, yeah?” he teases. “I thought it was my dashing good lucks and the fortune I’m heir to.”

“In case you forgot, I inherited all the Alderwood assets,” I quip, poking at his side. “Technically, my fortune is bigger than yours.”

Draco laughs, kissing the top of my head. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yes,” I agree, snuggling in closer. “Yes I am.”

September 25, 1998

Time: 5:48 PM

Location: Mauritius Island, Indian Ocean

The sun casts golden rays of light through the balcony, enveloping everything in a warm yellow glow. The bedroom is a mess—we’ve been avoiding packing for as long as possible, hating the thought of leaving the safe, private bubble of our honeymoon.

“Mum has taste,” I quip, taking in the view as I finish my dinner. “It’s gorgeous here.”

“I know,” Draco chuckles, “you’ve told me that about twenty times in the last few days.”

I roll my eyes playfully and nudge him under the table with my foot. “I’m just overwhelmed. They didn’t have to do all this for us.”

“Are you kidding? Mum and dad have been itching to plan our honeymoon since we made up after the whole Obliviate fiasco,” he replies, talking with his hands and gesturing to his head. “Especially dad. He’d never admit it, but he loves having another woman in his life to spend money on besides mum.”

Draco calling Lucius “dad” instead of “father” is a recent development, and it still catches me off guard a little when he uses it. The term of endearment is the result of some well crafted apologies and genuine attempts to change on Lucius’ end.

“I shouldn’t have let another man tell me how to raise my child,” Lucius said in regards to Draco’s fury. “And you have every right to be upset with me for that.”

“You think this is just about Dumbledore?” Draco spat, throwing his arms in the air. “You need to see a mind healer, father. You’re fucked up and prejudiced because of your own parents and I won’t have anything to do with you until you realize that.”

Lucius scowled and clenched his wand tighter. “You are still my son, Draco. You will speak to me with respect.”

“Or what?” Draco asked, pointing to his engagement ring. “You’re going to slap me? Crucio me? I’ll just run away with Y/n and you’ll never see me again.”

“Draco,” I said softly, trying to pull him out of the room. “Calm down.”

“I will not calm down!” he yelled, pointing at Lucius. “He tortured me for years, told me I was worthless, and tried to raise me to be some heartless blood purist. If it weren’t for you, Y/n, I would’ve been. How am I supposed to get over that?”

Lucius opened his mouth as if to speak, but I cut him off. “No one is asking you to get over it. Come on, let’s go take a breather before you hex a hole in the wall.”

Draco and Lucius were tense around each other after that, and every time Draco mentioned mind healing, Lucius rejected it. We thought it was completely hopeless.

That is, until a few weeks later, when Draco accidentally opened a letter addressed to “Mr. Malfoy,” and saw the bill for Lucius’ first three sessions.

Things got a bit better after that. By the time we finished school, they were bonding over potions and astronomy and expensive wine.

“I don’t want to leave,” I tell Draco, sighing wistfully. A gentle breeze tussles my hair and he stares at me, openly captivated.

“Me either,” he agrees quietly, standing up to move his chair closer to mine.

We sit on the balcony of the villa until the sun sets, the temperature dropping just enough to make me shiver. I cast a wandless warming charm over us and Draco flicks his wand at something inside.

“What are you—”

“Dance with me,” he says with a lopsided grin, just as the music starts to play.

I can’t help but giggle as I take his hand, letting him pull me out of my seat and off to the side of the table.

He pulls me close, one hand finding the small of my back and the other lacing with mine. The music is soft, slow, something vintage and jazzy, like it came from an old record player, the kind Narcissa might have charmed into the drawing room.

“You’re not exactly known for your dancing, Mr. Alderwood,” I tease, settling my head against his shoulder.

“Alderwood-Malfoy,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against my hair, “but anyway—I’ll make an exception for my wife.”

My heart flutters at the word, and even though we’ve been married for about a week now, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing him say it like that—soft, reverent, like it still stuns him a little.

The sky turns pink, then violet, and the first stars begin to shimmer above us as we sway gently on the balcony, barefoot and slightly tipsy from too much wine and sun. Below, the ocean whispers against the shore, the tide slowly retreating.

“I wish we could stay in this moment forever,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Draco pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his own soft with something that feels like forever.

“Then let’s never forget it,” he says. “We’ll come back one day. Same villa. Same song. And maybe…” His fingers drift to my stomach with a smirk. “Maybe not just the two of us next time.”

My cheeks burn as I laugh and swat at him. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, tragically, you married me.”

“Tragically?”

“For you, obviously. I’m a handful.”

I shake my head, still smiling, still swaying. “You’re my handful.”

He kisses me then—slow and unhurried, like the world has all the time it needs—and for a moment, it feels like it does. Like nothing could possibly go wrong again, not with his arms around me and the stars above us and the safe little pocket of magic we’ve made for ourselves.

Later, when we finally do crawl into bed, the suitcases still half-packed and clothes scattered everywhere, he pulls me close under the sheets and whispers sleepily, “Promise me we’ll never let the world take this away from us.”

I turn toward him, tucking myself against his chest, our legs tangled. “Never,” I whisper. “It’s ours.”

March 12, 2002

Time: 8:30 PM

Location: Home

I come barreling into the bedroom with all the grace of a dizzy kneazle, hair a mess and my robes half open. “Draco!”

Draco looks up, takes in the state of me, and has the good sense to look worried before I throw myself into his arms with enough force to knock him over onto the bed. “Woah—hey, what’s wrong?”

Tears stream down my face as I hold onto his neck tighter, sobbing into his shoulder. “Dray, I—the ritual,” I croak out, choking on my words. “The healer called and—”

My explanation is cut off by another round of sobs that have Draco even more worried—I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.

“What ritual?” he asks, rubbing my back. “Which healer? You’re not making any sense, love. Take a deep breath and slow down for me.”

I try my best to gulp for air but the attempt is futile. “Babe, it worked,” I breathe out, pulling back to hold him by his shoulders. “The ritual. It took.”

Draco reaches up absentmindedly to wipe the tears from my face before he freezes, my words sinking in. “Wait. You mean…?”

I nod, a watery smile stretching over my lips. “Dray—we’re going to be parents,” I sob, my voice breaking at the word. “It worked!”

Without a second of hesitation Draco pulls me into a bone crushing hug, filled with overwhelming amounts of joy and disbelief. “You mean it? We—we’re going to be parents?”

Draco’s voice cracks on the last word, like he doesn’t dare believe it fully, like the universe might take it back if he says it too loudly.

“We’re going to be parents,” I repeat, laughing through my tears. “You’re going to be a dad, Draco. The best dad.”

He chokes on a breath, and I feel it—his chest tightening, his whole body trembling as the weight of it crashes down on him. “I thought—I thought they said you couldn’t,” he whispers, like he still doesn’t want to say the word out loud. “Because of—”

“Because of what they did to me,” I finish softly, reaching up to cup his cheek, our foreheads touching. “I know. Catherine and I have tried everything she could find and I thought it wouldn’t happen. But she found this ancient ritual—said it might undo the damage. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but, Draco… we did it.”

Draco closes his eyes and lets out a sound I’ve only heard from him a handful of times in our entire relationship. A sob, deep and raw, from the part of him he keeps locked up tight behind pureblood pride and Malfoy composure. It breaks him open, and in a moment I never could have prepared for, I watch him cry—not out of fear or anger, but joy. Overwhelming, soul-cracking joy.

“Merlin, you—” he whispers, voice shaking. “You’re going to be the most wonderful mum. I know you will. Merlin, I knew it. I knew you could do it. I almost gave up hope after your last appointment, but…”

My lip trembles at that, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders again, burying myself in the warmth of his chest, the rhythm of his heart. “You were right,” I say, voice muffled against him. “You said it every time the rituals didn’t work, every time I doubted myself, every time I wanted to give up—and you were right,” I whisper, still in shock. “They’re going to know love, Draco. Real love.”

“I swear it,” he breathes into my hair. “I swear on everything—I’ll be better. I’ll be everything we didn’t have.”

The two of us stay there, tangled in each other, our tears soaking into the bedspread, whispering “I love yous” and laughing between sobs like idiots who just found out the universe didn’t forget them after all.

When he finally pulls back and places a trembling hand over my stomach, he looks down like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever touched.

“Hi,” he whispers to the barely-there bump. “I’m your dad. And I already love you more than life.”

I look at his face and take it all in. My husband, my Draco, the love of my life—he’s right here with me, living through every moment, face flushed and tear streaked as he leans in to kiss me with every ounce of strength he has.

Everything is about to change—but for once, I’m not afraid. I’m perfectly, wonderfully, blissfully happy.