Epilogue – One Year Later

"You've gotta hair outta place just there, mate," the mirror drawled as Ron adjusted the collar of his dress robes.

"Thanks," Ron said, spotting it and smoothing it down.

"That's betta," the mirror told him, and then seemed to settle down. It was a less outspoken mirror than most that Ron had met. Usually they had more opinions than a Wizengamot court room. But then again, Ron hadn't generally been to fancy places like this one before. Presumably they could spend a bit more to make sure their mirrors didn't insult every patron that came across them.

"Ron, where have you run off to?" a voice asked from the other room.

"Right here, mate," Ron called back. He gave himself another look in the mirror. Hair tamed, check. Robes spotless and lace free, check. He patted a hand on his robe pocket. Still had those as well, check. He took himself back to the other room.

"Oh, there you are," Draco said, glancing back over his shoulder from where he was fiddling with his cufflinks. From the back, his robes fit perfectly to his shoulders and sharply accentuated his narrow waist, before cascading down his legs in a ripple of elaborately embroidered dark green fabric. He wore his hair longer and a bit loose, rather than slicked back against his skull like when they'd been kids. It made his angular features look less pointed.

For a second, Ron experienced a feeling of bizarre vertigo, as if he'd stepped into a dream.

"Weasley," Draco barked at him.

Ron snapped out of it. "Hey now, I thought we were over the last names."

The blond grinned. "We are, you oaf, but you were getting that look like you were remembering trying to hex me back in second year."

Ron shuddered. "Don't remind me. Disgusting slugs."

Draco finished fiddling with the cufflink – the shape of a dragon with tiny diamond eyes – and turned to face Ron. He spread his arms, presenting himself. "How do I look?"

Ron gave him a critical look. The dark green dress robes were open at the front, exposing perfectly tailored dark grey slacks and a matching, tightly fitting waist coat, all just as elaborately embroidered as the robes themselves. Beneath the waist coat, a light silvery grey shirt was open at Draco's throat, exposing pale skin and a silver dragon pendant that matched the cufflinks.

With the light from the massive windows shining behind him – which Ron was almost certain were enchanted to cast the occupants in the absolute best light – he looked like he was glowing.

"You look like a berk," Ron decided.

Draco blinked, and then burst out laughing.

Ron grinned at him. "Nah, mate, you look amazing. Harry's probably going to cry."

Draco controlled his laughter and glanced at him slyly. "Did you cry, when you married Hermione?"

"Oh loads," Ron admitted, unashamed. "You have seen Hermione, yeah? She's –"

The blond rolled his eyes. "Don't start on one of your 'Hermione is amazing' tangents. I have heard them all. Multiple times even."

Ron shrugged. It wasn't his fault his wife was brilliant.

Draco fussed with the tightly fitted arms of his dress robes so that the seams were all straightened. "Still regretting 'letting' your wife win that chess match?"

There hadn't been any 'let' about it, but Ron was never going to admit that to anyone. The game they'd played to decide which of them got to be Harry's 'best man' had been brutal and competitive, and Hermione had beat him with a pawn. A pawn, for Godric's sake. Eh, it wasn't so bad though, he'd gotten to be Draco's instead, and had thoroughly enjoyed getting him completely wasted on his stag night. The former Slytherin was hilarious when he was drunk. Heck, the man was hilarious most of the time, actually. But he wasn't going to be admitting that either.

"Babysitting your arse has been an absolute nightmare," he deadpanned.

Draco grinned at him. "You love me really."

Ron made an exaggeratedly disgusted face. "I'll leave that to Harry, thanks."

He glanced over at the custom-made clock on the wall. A bit like his mother's, except that instead of showing times, it was counting down until the ceremony, with two hands on either side, one engraved with 'Harry' and the other with 'Draco.' Draco's was currently lagging slightly behind.

"Alright, you look great. Stop fussing. Do you want to be late to your own wedding?"

Draco allowed Ron to sweep him out of the room and into a beautiful decorated hallway. The walls were interspersed with old wizarding wedding portraits, from which grooms and brides excitedly waved. The carpets were even more plush than the ones at Summerside Manor, and as soon as Draco stepped onto it, he seemed to freeze.

Ron turned to look at him. "You alright?"

Draco shook his head and pressed a hand tight against his heart.

"Is it the bond?" Ron asked, an all too familiar question at this point. Draco and Harry had decided to go the traditional route and not see each other the night before the wedding, but this still made it the longest the two had been apart since the fiasco last year. It had been alright so far, though. Distance didn't have the effect it used to. There'd been a point where the Healers wouldn't let them more than ten meters away from each other for fear of a relapse.

Draco shook his head again. "No – no, I'm fine. I just can't really believe this is happening."

Ah, nerves, Ron remembered these well. "Mate, you've been living at Grimmauld for nearly a year. You have a naturally occurring Medipar Cordis bond. You proposed within like three days of Zabini getting sent to Azkaban. Where did you think this was going?"

"No idea," Draco answered, sounding nervous. "Keep expecting to wake up and find out it's all a dream, sometimes." His magic reacted a bit and a vase on a nearby side table wobbled, a lily petal drifting out of the bouquet.

Ron eyed the petal as it settled and then set a hand on each of the blond's shoulders. "Come on, that's not the loud and proud Malfoy I know. Renowned Potion Master extraordinaire? Author of six theoretical potions texts? Bloke that my best friend is completely mad for?"

That cracked a smile. "It's seven, actually. Seven potions texts, one for each Hogwarts year."

"See what I mean?" Ron insisted. "You're brilliant. You've got nothing to worry about."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you've ever called anyone other than Hermione brilliant before."

Ron patted his shoulders. "Don't go letting on."

The groom-to-be rolled his eyes, and then mimed locking his lips shut and throwing away the key.

"Come on," Ron said, putting an arm around his shoulders and pulling him gently down the hallway past the waving happy couples. "Can't leave Harry waiting. He'll blame it on me, you know."

Draco allowed himself to be directed down the hallway, until they reached a large set of white double doors, inlaid with silver patterns that seemed to shimmer in the light from the chandelier above them. Behind the doors, Ron could hear the crowd chattering, overlaid with soft strains of piano music. He glanced at the clock next to the door, a copy of the one in the ready room. Both grooms' names were pointed at the ceremony time.

"You ready?" he asked.

Draco took a deep breath and nodded. Past the doors, the piano music paused for a long moment, catching the attention of the crowd, and then started up again, gentle strains of Harry and Draco's chosen song drifting through the now quieter room.

Ron offered his arm. Draco took it. The doors opened.

Past them, the hallway opened up into a massive circular room. The ceiling arched high above them, made entirely of glass, to show a picture perfect blue sky interspersed with clouds. Sunlight streamed down and seemed to catch more on the center of the room than anywhere else. There, a silver pergola stood, looped through with green ivy.

Past that, on the other side of the room, an identical set of doors had also opened, through which Hermione and Harry stepped through at the same time that Ron and Draco stepped through theirs onto their respective aisles leading up to the pergola.

The first thing Ron noticed was that Hermione looked absolutely amazing, wearing a flowy light grey-silver dress that matched Ron's own dress robes. The second was that Draco's hand had gone rather tight on his forearm.

He leaned over, having an idea of exactly what the blond was feeling right now, and whispered, "Breathe, mate."

Draco breathed.

Ron then made a distinct effort to slow their pace when the man took a much longer step than they had during rehearsal practice. He was pretty sure Hermione was doing the same. Impatient gits.

Keeping to the planned sedate pace in time with the drifting piano music, he got his charge to the center of the room at the same time that Hermione arrived with hers. Before they'd even had a chance to hand the grooms off to one another, Harry and Draco had reached out for each other with their free hands. Ron rolled his eyes in time with his wife and gave the other hand over to Harry as well, before stepping back to his post at the side of the scene.

Harry looked wonderful, and Draco certainly seemed to agree, if the way he was looking at his fiancé was any measure. He wore the same tailored robes as the blond, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim waist, and while his hair was still its usual wild disaster, it seemed to have been at least somewhat tamed. The green of the robes made his eyes seem even greener under his silver-framed glasses. A silver phoenix pendant hung around his neck, a match to Draco's dragon.

The pairs' hands were tight together, and Harry's smile could have put the sun out of business.

Ron had an odd urge to cry and blinked to dispel it. Over in the crowd, he noticed that his Mum and Narcissa Malfoy had no such qualms, dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs.

The piano music stopped and Minister Shacklebolt stepped forward. It wasn't every day the Minister for Magic married someone, but today, he was here as Kingsley, not the Minister.

"Dear wizards and witches, family and friends," Kingsley greeted, "We are gathered here today to witness the joining of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Now, I understand they have gotten rather ahead of themselves and are already bonded." He gave Harry and Draco a stern look – they both blushed, and the crowd laughed. "However, I am honoured to be the one to publicly acknowledge that bond and the love that these two men share." He smiled at the pair.

"Now, if anyone has any objections and would like to face the wrath of Mr. Potter, they are welcome to speak now or forever hold their peace." He glanced around the room. Unsurprisingly, no one objected.

As it so happened, The Daily Prophet hadn't been a particularly silent commentator on Harry and Draco's engagement. It also so happened that Harry hadn't been particularly forgiving of anyone who had dared to object to him holding Draco's hand in public. As in, he'd use his position as Auror to incarcerate any particularly brave naysayers and lay them with an assault charge, with Robbards' full support. So, no objections were par for course.

"Good, good," Kingsley began, drawing his wand and setting the tip over the pair's joined hands. "Now, Draco Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, do you take this man…"

Ron tuned out slightly, catching Hermione's eyes from where she stood below a strand of ivy and grinning. She smiled back. She'd done something to her hair that made it look even prettier than it normally did, and Ron found himself sliding back in time to when it had been him and her at their wedding. It certainly hadn't been as fancy as this, no glass ceilings or silver or huge crowds of people, but it had still been one of the best days of his life.

"I do," Draco said, with conviction, catching Ron's attention again. Where Kingsley's wand lay, a band of bright light swirled out and wrapped around Harry and Draco's hands. They'd decided on a basic marriage bond to overlay their existing Medipar Cordis bond, more to appease general wizarding law regarding valid, non-illegal bonds than anything else.

"And do you, Harry James Potter, take this man to be your partner in all things, to love and cherish from this day to your last, for better or worse, richer or poorer, ill or thriving, wherever life may take you from this day forth?"

"I do," Harry said, solemnly, and a second band of light drifted from Kingsley's wand and spiralled tightly around their hands. For a moment it hung there, bright and beautiful, and then it sank beneath their skin, still shining, and dissipated.

"Do you have the rings?" Kingsley asked him.

"I do," Ron said, and lifted the box from his robe pocket. He gave it to the Minister.

Kingsley opened the box and removed both rings, handing the first to Harry.

Ron's best mate took a deep breath and said, "May this ring be a symbol of the love I hold for you." He took Draco's left hand and slid the ring onto his third finger. "When you see it, may it remind you that my heart is yours, and that it always will be. May it tell you that I would fight another Dark Lord to keep you safe," he grinned a bit at this, though Draco rolled his eyes, "and that my home, my magic and all that belongs to me is also yours. I love you, Draco Malfoy."

Draco flushed a bit as he took the second ring from Kingsley and began to slide it onto Harry's finger. "May this ring be –" he suddenly paused, choking up. "Dammit, Harry, I'm going to cry and it's all your fault." The crowd laughed, and the blond wiped quickly at his eyes, clearing his throat. "May this ring be a symbol of the love I hold for you," he started. "When it catches your eye, may it remind you that you hold my heart in your hands and always have, and always will. May it tell you that while our magic chose to bind us before we decided on it, I would still choose you every day for the rest of my life, if given the chance. I love you, Harry Potter."

Now it was Harry's turn to blink back tears.

"I now pronounce you husbands and bondmates," Kingsley pronounced. "You may –"

Draco and Harry were already way ahead of the game, kissing while the crowd clapped, George and Charlie whooping from the front row. Ron grinned at them, clapping as well.

"I now introduce to you Mr. and Mr. Potter-Malfoy!" Kingsley declared.

Harry and Draco still hadn't separated, though their smiles and laughter were making it hard for them to kiss, and their magic was going a bit wild. The ivy on the pergola had started growing at a rather unnatural rate, spiraling towards the ceiling. But after a moment, the newly married men managed to calm themselves and stood, slightly apart with their hands still clasped, rings glinting.

"I thought we were going with Malfoy-Potter," Harry noted.

Draco shrugged. "I changed my mind, this way sounds better."

Harry grinned at him. Draco smiled back. Ron rolled his eyes at them both.

"Alright you two," he said, "There's pictures and food to be had, don't make me get between you."

Draco scoffed, "I'd like to see you try. One day was entirely to long, I'm never letting Harry out of my sight again."

Harry squeezed his hand, eyes soft. "I missed you too."

Draco looked like his might kiss him again, so Ron recruited Hermione and they got them off the pergola and in the direction of the reception. As they were led away, Draco leaned over and stole a kiss regardless.

Ron shook his head, fondly, and let them be.

THE END

Draw a line from your heart to mine

And I'll follow it home to you,

Like a mimicry of Ariadne's twine,

So I can follow my promises through.

Chain our souls, forever bound,

Your heart right next to mine,

It doesn't matter, I'd be forever found,

And that would be just fine.

Bind me near you with crimson thread,

Spun from our shared life blood,

For away from you my soul feels dead,

And every breath is ash and mud.

Keep me close with spellwork untold,

Let us never for a moment be apart,

I'll be with you as we grow old,

And love you with all my heart.

You have my thoughts, my very soul,

So make me yours, I'll make you mine,

Without you I'm a half, not whole,

So here's the quill, now draw the line.

We are meant to be, that much is true,

Our destinies were always meant to intertwine,

So take my heart, it always belonged to you,

And draw a line from yours to mine.