In My Life

Chapter 11

Draco looked around at the crowd of wedding guests milling about the grounds of Notting Park. He had spoken civily to every one of them today, but the effort hadn’t bothered him in the least. Nothing could bother him today. He couldn’t remember ever being as happy as he was now.

Notting Park looked better ever. Susan Bones had made sure that every flower in sight was at its peak today, and the white of the chairs and tents enhanced the natural beauty by contrasting with the dark hues of Sherwood Forest. The ceremony had taken place near the pond, in a spot Ginny had chosen because it was in full view of their favorite chair in the drawing room. (Draco was sure that he would have to be even more conniving than ever to win the right to sit in it now; marriage certainly wouldn’t make Ginny go soft on such an important matter.)

Draco couldn’t help smiling at the thought of the ceremony itself. The image of Ginny walking down the aisle on Albus’s arm—he was as stern and serious as ever, but she had been more radiant than Draco had ever seen her—would stay clear in his consciousness for the rest of his life. And there had never been a kiss in the whole history of the world like the first one they had shared as man and wife—Draco had felt as if time had stopped just for them.

The Notting Park house-elves, led by a teary-eyed Addie, had outdone themselves with the food. Ginny had asked them to prepare tea and cake, hoping it would be easier on them than a full meal, considering the short notice. The elves, however, only seemed to take it as a challenge. The tables were loaded down with a dozen kinds of finger sandwiches and more desserts than Draco could recognize. He had swiped an éclair or a tart each time he and Ginny passed on their way to talk to yet another guest, and he was feeling rather full by now.

Draco was amazed that even the little part of the plans they had dared give to Fanny Marshall were a success. They had asked her to be in charge of the guest book. “We want to be sure to have a record of all of our friends and family who join us,” Ginny had said. “So it is very important to us that you make sure everyone signs the guest book.” Fanny had taken those words to heart. The guest book table was so gaudy that no one could miss seeing it, even if they happened to be blind. George Weasley had been so impressed that he asked Draco if he thought Fanny might be willing to consult with him and his grandson about advertising for Wheezes.

Justine had been on her best behavior, knowing that the whole wizarding world was watching. Her smile seemed fake to Draco, but her lack of sincerity might have been due more to Scorpius’s subtle needling than to the occasion, though. Draco didn’t care, as long as she didn’t insult Ginny or her family, or otherwise make a scene.

Draco and Ginny hadn’t been able to avoid the press, but even that didn’t bother him overly much. The reporter had been young and inexperienced. Ginny had been kind to him, but Draco couldn’t help but be a little impatient.

“And how old are you?” the boy had asked towards the end of the interview. When Ginny answered, he gaped. “Really?” he asked incredulously. “You look so much younger! How do you do it?”

“That’s very kind of you,” Ginny had said, “but we don’t do anything special. At least I don’t. Do you, Draco?”

Draco had raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m completely bald and have more wrinkles than the average prune, and you think I look young?”

The boy had blushed bright red. Without missing a beat, Ginny had winked at Draco and said, “I think you look very young and fit,” causing him to blush himself.

Now, as he watched Ginny talk animatedly with Ellen, Draco noticed that her eyes were softer than usual, her cheeks pinker, and her wrinkles seemed to have faded away. She did look young—if he imagined her with a full head of red hair, she was almost like the girl he had known at Hogwarts. Perhaps he looked the same way. He suddenly understood why—it was happiness, pure and simple.

The sun was beginning to set, and Draco was beginning to tire of the crowd. He wanted Ginny all to himself. He wanted her to direct all of that happiness toward him. He touched her arm, and she stopped talking mid-sentence to look at him. He didn’t say a word, but she seemed to understand.

“Yes, you’re right,” she said to him, then turned back to Ellen. “It’s time we wrapped things up, I think.”

“Go,” Ellen said. “You can talk to me anytime, but not tonight. Not on your wedding night.” She colored a little, which reminded Draco of just how recent her own wedding had been. He then wondered what it was about weddings that caused people to blush so often.

Ginny tossed her bouquet to a crowd of girls, teenagers, and young women who all looked as if they wanted to catch it, but didn’t want other people to think they wanted to. One of Lily’s granddaughters was the lucky winner. Draco watched her as she caught the eye of a young man in the crowd and turned a deep pink.

Draco thought that perhaps there would be another wedding in the family very soon, and then realized that was why everyone seemed to be blushing. Weddings made people think about their own weddings, past or future. He stopped to think about his own first wedding, but it didn’t cause him to blush. Of course, it had been no more than a business transaction—much more elegant than the signing of a usual contract, of course, but nothing more than that emotionally. And yet, Ginny could make him blush like a teenager with a comment, or sometimes even a glance.

Draco looked at Lily’s granddaughter and hoped that when she married, whether it was soon or not, she would feel like he did today. And Draco hoped that when he saw her with her new husband, he would blush, remembering today.

Draco recognized that he was descending into sappiness, something he usually tried to avoid at all costs, but even that didn’t bother him. He turned to Ginny, who also seemed to be gazing sappily at the girl with the bouquet. “Are you ready?” he asked quietly. Ginny nodded, and they began the slow walk back to the house, arm in arm. Ginny waved at everyone they passed, while Draco merely nodded to the people he liked—Lyra and Daniel, Scorpius, George and Charlie, Ellen and Dietrich, Percy.

Their conversation was light as they approached the house. “Are you hungry?” Draco asked. They had planned to have dinner together in the suite that evening.

“A little, but not enough to eat a full meal. Are you?”

“Not at all,” Draco said.

Ginny laughed. “I’m not surprised, considering how often you nicked desserts!”

“You saw?” Draco said, faking disappointment. “And I thought I was being so sneaky!”

“I see everything,” Ginny said ominously. “Just ask Albus and Lily! You’d better get used to it.”

The house seemed cool and quiet after the bustle in the gardens. Ginny and Draco were silent as they made their way to his—their—suite. When they arrived, Ginny kicked off her shoes, then settled herself on the sofa. Draco sat next to her, taking her hand. She turned toward him and smiled brilliantly. “Hello, husband.”

“Hello, wife,” Draco responded. “Did you have a good day?”

“The best!” Ginny said enthusiastically. She paused for a moment, and her expression turned serious. “I feel as if my whole life has been leading towards this—towards you. I’ve never been so happy.”

“I feel the same way,” Draco said with a smile. Then he added contemplatively, “I almost wish we had found each other sooner, though,” he added wistfully, “when we were young, and could have enjoyed a whole lifetime together.”

Ginny cocked her head, then after a moment, she said, “It’s a nice thought, but I don’t think I would change anything. After all, that way I would never have all of my wonderful children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and you wouldn’t have Scorpius and Lyra.”

Draco thought about this for a moment. Sure, he and Ginny would undoubtedly have had wonderful children of their own, but Scorpius and Lyra were irreplaceable. Frowning, he said, “I could probably do without Julius, but I see your point.”

Ginny smiled and squeezed Draco’s hand. “We may not have as much time together as we would like, but what’s important is to make the most of the time we have—to make every minute count.”

“Yes, every minute,” Draco said, his voice rough. He pulled Ginny in for a kiss, and it was as powerful as the one they had shared earlier, but more charged with energy than the ethereal kiss in the gardens.

When they pulled away, breathless, Draco said, “I think I know a way to take advantage of the next several hours.” Ginny grinned, and they both stood up and made their way into his—their—bedroom.