10 Years Later

I stare at my reflection with nervous uncertainty. Is the dress too elaborate? Should I have left my hair down? No one else will wonder these things, but I can't help it. I meet Lysa's eyes in the mirror. "It feels like too much," I say.

My friends shakes her head. "Don't doubt yourself, Rose. It's perfect."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You. Look. Amazing."

"She's right, you know," says Lily, who has just reentered the tent. "You're stunning, Rose. Just like always."

I sigh. "Don't say nice things to me. I'll cry, and it'll ruin my makeup."

"Your makeup is magic; it won't get messed up," said a third voice, more youthful than the others. The girl who just spoke comes up to me and wraps her arms around me. "You should listen to your friends, Mum."

Willow is ten (and a half) years old now, and she radiates sunshine with every smile and word. I could never have asked for a sweeter, more beautiful daughter. She's glowing today in a sky-blue dress that matches Lysa and Lily's - it was never an option to leave her out of the ceremony. I beam and squeeze her tightly. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"

"Grandma says you need company more than she does."

"I hope you're not intending to gobble up the rest of my snacks," I say with a laugh, seeing my daughter eye the plates on the table as she pulls out of my embrace.

"No, don't worry, I won't." She proceeds to stuff a whole cookie in her mouth.

I laugh. "You are a shameless liar, you know that?"

"I know," she says.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," I scold. "People will think I haven't taught you basic table manners."

Willow giggles and ducks out of the tent.

"They'll never blame it on you, Rose," Lysa says dryly. "They'll just say it's the Malfoy genes coming back to bite."

I smile bemusedly. "Are you kidding? Malfoys are extraordinarily well-bred. Or so Scorpius always claims."

Outside, music is playing. Lily pokes her head through the tent to confirm that we are ready and give them permission to officially begin the ceremony. When she does so, Hugo slips in and comes up to me.

My brother, now a respected Auror and also approaching matrimony in a month or so, looks charming in his shirt and tie. He smiles at me, shaking his head. "You look like a goddess, Rose."

"You flatter me unnecessarily," I laugh. "How are things out there?"

"Like an earthly paradise. People can't stop admiring the gardens. And Mum looks as happy as she did in her own wedding photos." His smile turns bittersweet. "I wish Dad were here for today," he says quietly.

I nod, suddenly blinking back tears. "Me, too."

"He would have been so happy to walk you down that aisle..."

I take Hugo's hand and squeeze it tightly. The heart attack that took my father far too early was a profound shock to all of us, but my brother had suffered more from it than anyone, excepting Mum. "I know," I say. "But since he couldn't... there's nobody I'd rather have had than you."

He swallows, hard, and I know he's trying not to cry. "Merlin, Rosie, I can't believe we're here. It seems we've grown up so fast."

"Yes, it does," I sigh, before changing the subject to fend off the incoming tears. "Have you seen Brandon?"

Hugo grins. "Yeah, I just came from there. He's torn between never having been more excited and scared out of his wits that you'll leave him at the altar."

I laugh. My brother is joking with me; my fiance isn't inclined to self-doubt. I dated two or three other guys over the past ten years, but never for very long. Brandon was the only one who stuck. "He tried to get in here earlier," I say, "but Lysa shooed him away. Bad luck and all that."

"Yes, I heard. He was rather pissed, actually. I think he has a secret fear that your best friends hate him."

I shake my head, smiling. "He does not. It just wounded his pride to be sent away." Around us, the members of the procession have been taking their cues. Willow, the last to go before me, reaches out to squeeze my hand before stepping out of the tent. I look up at Hugo. "It's about time."

"Indeed it is. You ready, big sister?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

My brother offers me his arm, and I take it. We stand just inside the entrance to the tent, and after a moment the music changes. Before I know it, the flaps are pulled back, and we're out in the open.

Every seat in the space seems to be filled, and every eye is trained on me. For a moment it's disconcerting, but the cool grass is soothing under my bare feet and when I see Brandon standing up at the front, waiting for me, a smile slips onto my face that I know I won't be able to wipe off for days.

Brandon looks exactly as he always does, with windswept sandy brown hair and a smile that makes my soul melt. The look in his dark eyes says he is already mentally undressing me, and I have to avert my gaze to prevent myself from blushing like a schoolgirl.

When we reach the end of the aisle, Hugo smiles at me and lets my arm go. Brandon takes my hand and draws me forward, and the ceremony proper finally begins.

The opening words are a blur, and before I know it, we're at the vows. The officiant turns first to my husband-to-be. "Please repeat after me: I, Brandon Hurst Fawley..."

Brandon shoots me a wry grin - he despises his middle name. "I, Brandon Hurst Fawley..."

And on it goes, "...Until death do us part."

My turn. "I, Rose Granger-Weasley..." No middle name for me - my parents couldn't agree on one, so they opted out. Just the ever annoying hyphenated surname. I shall, after marriage, be taking Granger alone as my middle name. There are enough Weasleys to carry the name on without me.

I finish out my vows without a hitch, and we're on to the rings. Beckett, Albus and Jacob's almost three-year old son, was our only choice for ring bearer. He is, after all, really my son as well. I was actually carrying him when Brandon and I first met, and it scared Brandon off because he thought I was taken. But that was a misunderstanding easily cleared up, and things only went uphill from there.

Now, as the dark-haired toddler steps up uncertainly to deliver the rings, I can't help but wonder how I got so lucky. What did I ever do to deserve such a family, and such friends? Such a good life? I blink away tears that have sprung into my eyes and smile at Brandon as he slides the simple gold band onto my finger.

"With this ring, I thee wed." He speaks slowly, savoring every word, and the joy in his eyes has never been clearer.

I, in turn, slide the other ring into place on the hand of the man I love. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Brandon's hands intertwine with mine, and we gaze into each other's eyes as the officiant murmurs the incantation that seals the pact. And then, the long-awaited words:

"I now pronounce you man and wife." The man looks at my - could it really be? - my husband, and smiles just slightly. "You may kiss the bride."

My husband - Merlin, I believe I shall enjoy saying that far too much - brings his lips to mine without hesitation. I am no stranger to his kiss, but at the same time there is something something new and unknown in this one, and I cannot get enough of it.

"How awfully mad do you think your mother would be if we ditched the reception altogether and got on to the honeymoon?" Brandon whispers in my ear, as if there's nobody around but us. "I'm having a hard time already not tearing that dress off of you."

I blush madly, suppressing a giggle. "There's hundreds of people watching us," I sigh. "Save your filthy thoughts for the bedroom."

"Mm, who needs a bedroom?" he says, in between kisses. "I've a mind to take you in that tent back there."

I pull away from him, an amused smile on my face. "You'll do no such thing. We've got people to greet, darling. Please don't go saying things like that out loud. It could end up in Witch Weekly before we know it."

We get through all the talking and pictures without going mad, although from how jumpy Brandon's getting I know he's losing his mind. He's not the biggest people person, especially if he's being bossed around by someone (someone being the photographer). The reception is only a minute's walk away, in a different section of the park, so we won't have much excuse for being late - but it's clear to me that he needs a moment, so I pull him into the last tent, mine, which hasn't yet been packed away.

"You okay?" I ask.

Brandon takes a deep breath, discarding his suit jacket on a convenient chair. "Yeah, of course. Totally. I don't know what's getting into me. Just the stress of it all, I guess. I'm sorry if I'm being a bother."

I draw him close to me, kissing him softly. "Don't apologize. I know it's a lot."

His lips come back to mine with a deep, ravenous hunger that I've rarely known in him, channeling his raw emotion into the long, passionate kiss. His hands cling to my hips, his tight grip holding me against his body as he presses me against the table that earlier held my food. I feel his desire, and my own. We have a million things to do, but I want to stay right here.

Finally, after what seems like a moment of eternity, I pull back, breathless. "We have maybe five minutes," I pant. "Everyone will be waiting-"

"Oh, stop thinking about everyone," my husband says, determination in his voice and desperation in his eyes. "If I want to make love" - he kisses my neck - "to my stunning" - another kiss, lower - "and incredibly sexy" - lower still - "wife" - his lips brush the crease between my breasts, and I suck in a breath - "then I very well shall" - his fingers tug on the zipper at the back of my dress - "and if they don't like it" - I go to work on the buttons of his shirt, and have it off in no time - "they can go to hell." - He slides the dress down my body, and I reach to unfasten his trousers as he leans against me.

And, well... the rest is best left up to your imagination.

---

We make it to the reception - thirty minutes late - but nobody seems to mind. The wedding was at one o'clock, so there's no meal being served, just snacks and drinks and the like. We didn't want it to be very formal and make people wait around for hours for the cake cutting and such, so we're doing that right at the beginning. It's just a quarter to three when we cut the cake, and then retreat to our table for a brief respite before making the rounds of the tables.

"I don't think I'll ever have enough of you," Brandon says, leaning in to kiss me yet again.

I laugh. "Well, I should hope not. It's rather difficult, I'd think, to keep a marriage going with someone you've had enough of."

He nods thoughtfully in agreement, gazing out at the gathering of people we invited to spend this day with us. After a moment, he raises his eyebrows at something. "What on earth is Willow up to?"

I squint to make out the figure of my daughter, with her flowing golden hair, on the other side of the clearing where we're situated. Then, seeing the tall figure rising next to her, I laugh. "It would appear that she's tormenting her father."

"Ah," Brandon says, slumping carelessly back in his chair. "Did he ever actually RSVP?"

"Not really. But I knew he'd be here. For Willow."

"Yes." Then, "He slipped away after the ceremony. Didn't stick around to say hello. I thought he might have left."

"He probably didn't like all the paparazzi there. They've never gone easy on his family."

"Maybe. I didn't see Celia."

"No, neither did I. I guess she decided not to come."

"I wonder why?"

I glance sharply at my husband - there was sarcasm in his tone - but don't say anything, except, "We should probably go talk to some people now."

Brandon sighs. "Why don't you start? I'll join you soon, I just need another minute."

"Okay," I agree, kissing him lightly. "Don't be too long."

I decide to start at the far end of the clearing, intending to work my way back to our table at the front. Consequently, one of my first encounters is with the subject of my recent conversation with Brandon - Scorpius.

He's chosen a secluded seat, probably because he anticipates nosy people and doesn't want to tolerate ten thousand badly veiled questions about him attending the wedding of his former lover, how he feels about it, what he thinks of Brandon, and how we've worked out when Willow is staying with who. He and Willow are goofing off, as they often do, and he doesn't notice me until I've almost reached them. He shoots me a grin, wraps an arm around our daughter's shoulders, and kisses the top of her head. "How'd you like to go get me some cake, darling?" he says.

Willow sticks out her bottom lip in a pout. "The cake is so far away, though... Why can't you get it?"

"Because there's too many people and it's easier for you to get through the crowd without either offending someone or dropping the cake before getting it back here." His eyes sparkle, teasing.

"Fiiiiine," she groans, and ducks off into the crowd.

I laugh. "Should I be concerned that you're so good at getting rid of her?"

"Don't worry," Scorpius says, a smirk playing on his lips, "I only get rid of her when necessary."

"Why was it necessary?"

He chuckles. "Because now Brandon is irritated that we're more or less alone back here. I can tell even from this far that he's glaring daggers at me."

I shake my head. "You really are awful. You'll be sorry when you provoke him one too many times and he forbids you from coming to the house."

"Oh, don't scold me, it's simply too fun. I love nothing more than tormenting your fiance- husband, sorry." He grins mischievously. "I wonder what he'll do if I-"

"Scorpius," I sigh, "seriously, do not antagonize him. It's my wedding day, and he's already on edge."

The blond man sobers, though his eyes still laugh. "Sorry. I'll try to resist the temptation."

"I shall appreciate the effort," I say dryly. Then, in a softer voice I add, "Thank you for coming."

Scorpius smiles. "Well, I doubt Willow would ever have spoken to me again if I hadn't shown up. But even without that... I wouldn't have missed it for anything." After a moment he adds, "The ceremony was lovely. You... you look lovely."

We have, long ago, put any awkwardness behind us, but today I feel a tension. Perhaps it is simply the fact that we are at my wedding, or that there are a great deal of people probably watching us out of the corner of their eyes, but there is a wall between us, and I hate it. So I do the only thing I can think of, which is pull him into a warm embrace.

He stiffens for a moment, clearly uncertain, but lets it happen. And when I let go, I can tell that he's more comfortable. He grins over my shoulder, then looks back at me. "I hate to tell you this, Rosie, but your husband is coming this way."

I can't help laughing. Brandon really must stop being so touchy about my friendship with Scorpius. Before I can turn, my husband is at my side and reaching out a hand to shake Scorpius'. The look on his face is not nearly as cold as I thought it would be, and the greeting he gives could almost be called courteous.

"I must congratulate you, Brandon," Scorpius says, still grinning. "You've got a rather wonderful wife. And I gather from the tardiness that you've discovered just how good she can be." He has the nerve to wink.

I gape at him. He did not just say that. But he did.

Brandon is flabbergasted; entirely unsure how to respond. After a moment, he laughs, though it sounds forced. Finally, after a silence in which Scorpius is silently laughing at us, my husband says, "Celia couldn't join you?"

The blond man shakes his head. "Regretfully, she was called away yesterday - back to America. Her older sister is ill, and needs someone to take care of the children."

"How unfortunate. Will she be gone for long?"

"Perhaps a while. Her sister's condition is serious, and they fear it may be fatal. But this is a day of joy; such things shouldn't be talked of."

Scorpius' girlfriend of about a year and a half, Celia, is an American he met while she was interning at St. Mungo's almost four years ago. They became friends and kept up a correspondence when she went back to her home state of Massachusetts. When she returned to England to stay, they realized they wanted it to be more than a friendship, and they've been happily together ever since. Celia and I are not good friends, but she is fond of Willow, and that is all that really matters.

"Might there be wedding bells in your near future?" Brandon asks Scorpius.

Scorpius shrugs, suddenly bashful. "I've planned it, and I have a ring, but I haven't asked her. I mean, we've talked about it, but we haven't officially... you know what I mean. But yes, I have hope that we shall have such an announcement to make before too long."

"And in the meantime, I suppose you're enjoying how good she is," I say with a smirk.

He tries to frown at me, but ends up chuckling, and looks at Brandon with a wry grin. "She's always got to have the last word, doesn't she?"

My husband nods, a genuine smile on his face as he wraps an arm around my waist and draws me close, kissing the top of my head. "It's irresistible," he says.

"Indeed."

I think Scorpius intends that last remark to be sarcastic, but I hear something serious in it. Something almost wistful. Brandon doesn't seem to have noticed, so maybe I imagined it. But when I glance up at Scorpius, and his eyes flit away, I know it was there. I know that some part of him - however deep he may keep it hidden - still feels something more than the affectionate camaraderie we have built over these years.

I don't know quite how I feel about such a suspicion, especially considering that by all accounts, it had been he, not me, who had first fallen out of love. I wonder momentarily if all that was a lie, some determination to rid himself of the feelings by pretending they weren't there anymore, but I can't see him doing that. I suppose it is not very hard to regain affection for a close friend who you once loved. To me, it never seemed likely, but then I do not think I ever cared for him as he cared for me.

I wonder how he must feel, standing there watching my husband embrace me in a way that he never will. I have no regret; I love Brandon and know that we will have a long, full life together. But still, I wish... I wish I had known.

The conversation has dropped into a tense silence - at least, it seems tense to me - and I'm racking my brain for something to say when Brandon beats me to it. "Well, we should be moving on... lots more people to talk to. Thank you for coming, Scorpius."

"Of course. I'll see you two later."

We'll drop Willow off at his flat before leaving for the honeymoon, which is what 'later' refers to. Scorpius grins, but as we're turning away I glance back for a moment to catch his eye, and the grin falters. He quickly turns away, but not before I see the hint of pain in his expression, and it's a long time before the image of his sad grey eyes leaves my mind.