"All right, settle down. I'm about to make a speech," George announced, clinking his champagne glass (filled with firewhiskey he nicked from Hagrid) with his fork. "Now, I know most of us have at one point been completely dumbfounded by Ronniekins and Pans' union. Did we expect him to end up with Hermione? No way. She's way out of his league. But maybe settle down with a nice Lavender Brown—sure, that's believable. Only kidding, Lav. You're a peach," he said with a huge grin before turning to the latter's fiance, shaking his head aggressively to suggest she was anything but a delight.

Seamus let out a loud laugh. "Too right, mate!"

Before George could raise his glass in unison with him, Lavender pulled her fiance's arm down, pinching him hard. At Seamus' yelp, Dean and Neville roared with laughter along with their friends.

"Pansy-Pans," George continued with some slurred affection and admiration at the smirking bride, "We all thought you'd marry rich—like Malfoy rich. Or by the very least some sort of politician rich, like a McLaggen. Instead you settled for an adequately well-off man. I had my doubts about you, I'll admit, but when I processed that you make more than Ronald Bilius does, I knew then it was real for you."

"Are you going to get to the sappy part yet?" Ginny demanded as Ron's ears started growing red at the anger boiling in his chest. She knew if he had not given Harry his wand for safekeeping, he'd be cursing their older brother by now with a Bat-Bogey Hex.

"All jokes aside," George then said with a scoff, like he very much doubted he was in any immediate danger of retaliation, "while none of us expected Ron and Pansy to end up together, that's the beauty of it all, isn't it? Of this thing we call love. Sometimes it's the person right in front of you, or the person you least expect. The world moves and turns to make it happen, to cross your path with your right one. And it did so for these two. No one can look at them and not see it. Because it's right there—in Ronniekins massive smile, his subpar jokes, and the way he can't wait to get home because he knows Pans will be there. And she's his home. So, really, what I'm trying to say is this: welcome to the Weasleys, Pans. You're in for life. No take-backs."

"To the bride and groom!" Ginny added, standing with her own champagne glass raised high (just as filled with stolen, century-old firewhiskey), urging others to follow suit. As everyone stood, toasting to Ron and Pansy at the head of the beautifully decorated tent in the Burrow's backyard, the previously upset groom had no other choice but to smile wide, especially when Pansy rested her head on his shoulder, looking up at him with absolute bliss.

She was happy—truly happy.

That was all anyone could see under the sunlight weaving through the ropes of white roses canopying over their heads. It was visible from the moment she walked out the backdoor of the Burrow, her dark, cascading black hair in perfect waves parted to the side with a stunning emerald serpent hairpin (that had once belonged to the Malfoy family, a something-old and something-new gift given to her by Draco), exposing her dark, glittering eyes and blood-red lips pulled back in the widest, most sincere smile. An expression that was contagious, that was reflected on her soon-to-be husband waiting for her at the altar with his brothers at his side, as well as on Blaise walking beside her, giving her away to whom she wanted to belong to the most.

Her happiness was even in the way she threw her head back, laughing loud and unrestrained at every conversation (finding absolutely nothing intolerable or ridiculous). It was in the way her arms were constantly around her new relatives and (old and new) friends, holding them close to her, muttering love and adoration and respect in their ears (even whispers of apologies years too late, but honest). It was in the way her fingers were always touching her husband, cupping his cheeks, their eyes meeting, melting together, and when she traced small circles at the nape of Ron's neck, gently, carefully (like she could not contain her love, like she could not contain how lucky she felt to be feeling all that love).

"Why are you glaring at the bride?" Draco was smacked upside the head, distracting him from the scene yards down from where he sat (Pansy and Fleur Weasley were now each tugging on one of the Weaslette's—Ginny's—arms, demanding she dance with them). "Salazar, please tell me you are not currently jealous. Because Daphne's psychic did predict you would rediscover your passionate, dying love for Pansy on her wedding day. On account that you always want what you cannot have. Do not do it, Malfoy," Astoria Greengrass said to her ex-boyfriend, hitting him in the same spot again, using a tone like she was chastating a puppy for peeing on the expensive carpet. "Do not steal Pansy away."

Draco glared, kicking the chair Astoria now sat on as far back away from him as possible. "I'd be more inclined to runaway with the Weasel than with Pansy," he replied with a loud, affronted scoff. "And tell your sister she can't keep buying cheap fortunes from Knockturn Alley and running them in Witch Weekly. Muggle fortune cookies have better predictions than all those hags."

The sunlight pouring in through the white canopy over them made Astoria's smirk bright and sharp. "Got a good knowledge of Muggle things now, do you?"

"You know, it's not really a Pureblood wedding unless some fresh, unwilling blood is presented to the Sacred Twenty-Eight ancestors. Don't make me give you up as the offering, Greengrass," Draco warned through his teeth, but the threat sounded empty even to his own ears. Because it did, he took a drink out of his champagne glass, his silver eyes narrowing at the fading bubbles before taking a deep breath. "Will she be all right?"

Astoria looked ahead, back to where Pansy was now spinning Ginny in circles, both howling with laughter as Mrs. Weasley took pictures with one of the disposable cameras on every table.

"She married the man she loves," she then said, turning back to Draco. "She will always be all right."

"Is that really enough?"

"Listen, idiot," Astoria huffed, nudging him roughly on the shoulder, making him kick her chair again, "not everything needs to be perfect in order for it be a happy ending, okay? It does not matter that her parents did not show up. You know why? Because Pansy has a new family now. One with unconditional love. One that is welcoming her in, not shutting her out. Some losses just do not make you incomplete, but more whole."

Draco raised a blonde brow at Astoria.

"I changed Evaluators," she told him with a tight smile and a shrug, reaching for his glass to swallow the rest of the bubbly drink down. "As it turns out, Lovegood is just as mad as we all have known her to be, but also incredibly effective. I am fast becoming a lawyer with a heart and conscience—a rarity in the field, I am told. Oh, and an active, functioning member of society again working on her erratic, depressive episodes."

He was about to slap her hand away when she reached out to grab his wrist, but the same sunlight that had exposed her dark mirth was now glittering off a diamond ring on her finger. He took her hand instead, raising it to eye level to squint at it.

"We are not getting married tomorrow or in a year from now," Astoria's voice was low now, a tint of uncertainty underlying the words and her blue eyes, "or maybe ever, but one day we want to be. There is a lot Theo has to forgive himself for and there is a lot I have to overcome in order to try for what Pansy has. But for what it is worth, we are in love."

Draco squeezed her wrist before letting go. "Not everything has to be perfect in order for it to be a happy ending."

"Thank you, I suppose. For encouraging Theo to take the plunge." Astoria attempted to give him a smile that was void of any ridicule or self-satisfying glee, but only managed a shadow of one. She stood, smoothing out her blush bridesmaid dress. She was about to leave him, but stopped for another second, meeting his silver eyes. "Congratulations, by the way."

"For?"

"All of it, I guess."

Astoria hit him upside the head once more, her ever constant sneer and distaste for him appearing on her features as she walked away, heading straight for Theodore Nott at the band stage (where he, George, and a small Teddy Lupin were trying to hijack a microphone to sing their own rendition of a classically nauseating Celestina Warbeck song).

"Oh, was that Tori?"

Draco turned to his right, squinting as the sunlight burst to illuminate Hermione in golden, magical tones. She took his breath away every single time his gaze landed upon her. Especially now, with her brown hair smoothed straight down her back (but he will always love her wild, untamable curls more), her brown, beautiful eyes painted in shades of gold, and her mouth an inviting, shiny pink. The glitter in her own blush bridesmaid dress only made his eyes jump around, trying to catch every gleam of light her entire being was expelling out.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to break out of her spell to frown at her. "How many times have I asked you not to call her Tori? You can't be friends with my ex-girlfriend, Hermione."

"Honey, I wouldn't be able to be friends with anyone ever if that's the case," she told him with a laugh, taking the empty seat next to him. Once she was sat, he reached over, pulling the chair as close to his as he could. She grinned, but still said in her best righteous tone, "Besides, need I remind you that Tori is working diligently alongside Wizengamot members to pass your new law. Not to mention we are at your other ex-girlfriend's wedding."

"I'm only here to make sure Pansy got marry. She's the Weasel's problem now," Draco told her with a grunt, dismissing her loud snort of disbelief as he reached over to take her hands in his. There was a gold band on her left finger, the scatter of small, simple diamonds on it glimmered the same shade her eyes were as she smiled at him.

Draco never believed he would ever see love willingly reflected back at him like that.

But that was exactly how Hermione always looked at him, even on the days she was so cross with him, she swore she would make him swallow the (real) ring he slipped on her finger.

"Liv," Cyrus had sighed, watching as his wife slid off the ring he had put on her years back, "you realize that's your ring, right? From our marriage?"

Olive had nudged her husband in the ribs, shushing him as she pressed it into Draco's hands, forcing him and Hermione apart, breaking their kiss taking place in the reception area of Tierra Pura laboratories. "Marry her," she commanded. "You marry her right now, or I swear to Salazar, Draco Malfoy, that I will—"

"Crabb, shut up," Draco hissed at her, but still took her ring. He extended it out to Hermione, who looked absolutely composed, relieved, and blindsided all at once. "No sane person would ever ask someone who they fake-dated for less than a month to marry them, but I don't think there's anything sane about you actually loving me."

Hermione gave her his hand. "Or you loving me."

When Draco slipped on the gold band onto her finger, reeling her back toward him, wrapping arms around her so he could kiss her once more, Olive let out a loud, proud shriek. "Oh, come off it," she snorted at Cyrus, who was rolling his dark eyes at her, "we're do for a renewal of vows, anyway. You can get me a new one. Besides, it'll be a good luck charm for them. I know it."

There was no way in hell that Draco would ever tell Olive, but he thought she might be absolutely right. After all, she fell in love and married someone her past deemed impossible, too.

It was the same reason Hermione never let him replace the used ring. Instead, she made Draco give Cyrus a sack of galleons and told him go big or go home, mate.

"Oh, please don't," Hermione sighed with a hint of disappointment, pulling back a few centimeters when Draco leaned in to kiss her. "I grew sick when I was seeing my parents off."

"You should've told me," Draco reprimanded lightly, cupping her right cheek as his left hand brushed aside her hair, inspecting every inch of her face for any sign of her previous discomfort.

Hermione leaned into his touch, letting out a content sound at the warmth of his skin. "I'm all right now. I'll always be all right when you're here."

"We're going to be good at this, right?"

She took his left hand, dragging it down to rest flat against her abdomen. "We'll probably be absolutely horrible at it in the beginning, but I think we'll get the hang of it soon after."

"Astoria knows?"

"I practically dragged her out of the toilet so I could vomit," Hermione said with a mortified laugh. "She offered me some champagne to wash out the taste. She put it together when I declined."

Draco turned back to the cluster of people away from their table near the entrance of the tent: Olive was dancing, waving her arms alongside Luna and Blaise, while Cyrus was feeding her cake as he bobbed his head along with the music, Harry and Ginny were in each other's arms near the drinks table, Pansy was sat on Ron's lap, both of them laughing hysterically as their friends conjured a round of shots George was loudly taking bets on, and Narcissa sat beside her estranged sister Andromeda, Teddy sprawled out across both as they conversed with Arthur and Molly.

"Want to dance, Mrs. Malfoy?" he asked, nudging his head at the party.

"Yes," Hermione breathed, but made no intention to move. Instead she tugged on his arm, pressing her forehead against his.

Draco kissed her nose before putting a chaste one on her lips. She glared up at him through her lashes, but still smiled adoringly at him.

fin.