then he gives up on pretense and hugs him, the force of it knocking them both back onto the cold grass of the garden. It’s the most beautiful place he could ever have imagined this to happen, the moon high overhead and fireflies blinking in and out of sight and those flowers leaning in to form a sort of canopy around them, reaching, reaching, seeking out the two of them the same way that he and Harry are currently seeking each other out, until they are sharing each other’s air, breathing each other’s words. “Yes a million times over. Yes, yes, yes.”

Harry

Theye out of the garden hand in hand, a ring shining on both their hands.

No one knows. No one sees, with the way they are both keeping it hidden under the cuffs of their jackets and behind glasses of champagne. And they aren’t telling. It’s nice, for a moment, to have something just to their own.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Ron says, his eyes tracking Hermione around the dance floor as she is passed between Seamus and Dean and Ge in some weird dance that Harry had never seen before and does not think actually exists. There would be a time where Ron would have been forcing himself to be included, terrified that she was having more fun with them, that she liked them better, but now he’s content to let her have her fun, confident that it’s always going to be him she’s returning to. “Draco, I mean.”

Ron was the only one that Harry had told. The only one that he had trusted not to tell anyone else.

“I really, really do.” He makes a fist just so he can feel the chill of his ring against his skin, even though it was quickly warming. “Forever.”

(He was going to get that inscribed on the inside of their wedding bands. Forever, forever, forever, a new mantra to replace the soft promise of until the very end that had been ringing inside his bones for months.)

“Then I guess we’re stuck with him.” Ron’s mouth twitched into a smile when Hermione was thrown into Draco’s arms and he spun her around so her skirt flares out, the two of them doubling over with laughter. “No getting rid of him now.”

“Guess so.”

“That’s alright,” And it’s that, the wholehearted eptance that Ron is giving just with one casual shrug of his shoulder, that makes Harry think he is doing the right thing, because out of all of them Ron always seems to know when they are heading towards something that he can handle. “He’s growing on me.”

He has that effect, Harry thinks, but doesn’t say, because really, he’d already said enough.

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