Part Eighteen
Three Years Later
It was with a slight anxiety that I took my wife's hand, preparing for the side-along apparition. The anxiety was not enough to make my heart skip a beat or my hands to shake, but certainly enough to send a few small butterflies into my stomach.
I looked into your eyes and noticed the same anxiety in them. I squeezed your hand as I realized it wasn't entirely where we were going or who we would inevitably see. My nerves also had to do with you, so close beside me. My wife. Even after a year since our quiet, very small ceremony, I could scarcely believe it. Indeed, I could scarcely believe the happiness the very word brought me, let alone all the other joys you had brought into my life.
And I thought of how we had finally made it here. Certainly, we could have made better choices. We could have been honest - not only to them, but to each other and even ourselves. We would have made it here sooner, but looking back I realize that no matter our mistake, this was how it was supposed to be.
The revelation of our affair and, more importantly, of how we truly felt about each other, had been exactly as we had predicted. It was, in fact, disastrous. Ron and Ginny were both stunned, though they handled the situation much differently. Ron practically blew up. While he did nothing more to you than shout and name-call, I still have a scar upon my cheek from the event in your office, though I cannot remember if it was from his livid hex or his fist that followed shortly after.
Ginny, on the other hand, was torn between shocked, agonized sobs and loud, angry shouts (which were sometimes curses that she never quite aimed at me). My heart broke for her. I did still love her, it just wasn't what I had thought. It was my mistake and now she was paying for it.
Despite my insistence upon her keeping the flat, she moved back to the Burrow that day, after a shouted plea to never see either of us again and the jarring sound of that slamming door.
After the explosion with Ron, I let you move into Grimmauld Place, which had originally been the plan for me. I remained at my own flat in an attempt to take things slow. We were discreet, desperate to not make the entire situation even more painful. But we couldn't deny ourselves what we had been robbed from by our own stupidity.
We dated. For a year, we were our main priority. We spent every day together, getting to know one another again, and falling deeper and deeper all the time. I never knew such happiness could exist. I never knew that such blissful addiction to one person could be possible. I had never imagined.
You thrilled me in every way. And it was more than I could dream of asking for, even with the downside of our circumstances.
I had been a pariah before. So had you. But I couldn't remember it ever being so vicious. While we tried to keep our private life private, our coworkers caught on and soon enough, it seemed the Wizarding World in its entirety knew of our scandalous betrayal. We made a point to keep our relationship behind closed doors, but that didn't keep the press from snapping photos of us at lunch or an occasional night out.
Of course, the public's interest waned, especially as we gave them no evidence of anything past a deep, loving friendship. They knew the truth, but by the time I sold my flat and moved into Grimmauld Place with you, most of wizarding society was back to normal, treating us with polite, though excessively curious interest.
Living with you brought even more joy, of the kind I was surely undeserving. Every day, I was still excited to come home to you, or to wait for you to come home to me. Often I felt I was in the middle of a wonderful dream, hoping to never wake.
A year after that and here I am, leaning in to kiss you softly, reassuring. You sighed softly, pressing against me.
"I'm nervous," you said quietly, though I already knew, just as you knew my response.
"Me too," I said, and I kissed your forehead. "It will be fine."
"Do I look all right?" you asked, your pretty brow slightly creased with a small worry.
I rolled my eyes with an amused smile, but released your hand and took a step back, away from you. Crossing my arms and putting a hand to my chin, I pretended to appraise you thoroughly. I had to pretend. If I lingered on your form and the way that burgundy dress hugged your curves and flattered your legs, we would never make it to the Ministry's Yule Ball.
Pointedly, however, I gazed at your slightly rounded stomach, and my own, as it so often did these days, seemed to perform a somersault. Unable to contain myself, I smiled widely and looked back into your eyes.
"Surely," I said, "you have never looked more beautiful."
You beamed at me and reached for my hand. "Do try to contain yourself, Mr. Potter. We have somewhere to be."
I grinned and kissed you on your cheek before summoning our cloaks. After helping you into yours, I donned my own, and soon we were entering the Ministry of Magic, holding nervous hands as we finally made public our true relationship.
As ever, we received many stares, some contemptuous and others merely surprised. You were glowing, and though I hadn't once had the inclination to leave your side, I knew now that I couldn't possibly even try. You were mesmerizing and, like everyone else, I was hanging on your every word.
Things went smoothly until, on one of the few chances we were alone, sipping warm butterbeer and talking quietly, I caught a glimpse of that familiar, Weasley-ginger hair. You followed my gaze and a moment later, there they were, standing twenty feet away with cups in their hands and small smiles, as nervous as ours, on their faces.
They didn't see us at first, which gave us time to realize more about them, like how they were standing in a small circle with a tall blond man and a shorter, blonde woman. Upon Ginny's left hand was a new ring and her very stance implied a new confidence. Ron's free hand was at the other woman's waist, and she turned to look at me at that precise moment.
Instantly, I greeted her smile with my own. Luna gave me a small wave and suddenly I felt Ron's eyes, then Ginny's, and finally, Draco Malfoy's. They looked at us for a moment before I noticed their reactions. Your hand tightened around mine, just a little.
Malfoy didn't smile; he simply looked bored. Ginny's lips trembled in the feeble attempt at a cautious smile. Ron, who I missed more than anyone, mustered the strength for a small, though sincere one - a hint of the goofy grin of days long past. His eyes traveled to you beside me and I could tell his smile was easier then. He nodded at the two of us in silent greeting.
I felt then that my hopes would come true. We may not restore our friendship straight away, and it may never be what it once had been, but I hoped we could, at least, find our way back to an easy civility.
It was more than I deserved, more than I should have hoped for. And at my side, I felt you hoping for the same thing. We didn't regret what we had done. Our biggest regret, our only regret was hurting them through our own naïve speechlessness.
Soon, they distracted themselves and you turned back to me with a relaxed smile. I returned it, lifting my hand to caress your cheek, suddenly seeing only you.
Despite the pain, despite the loss, I knew I would go through all of it again, just for this, just for the sight of you, my wife, my love, looking up at me with those smiling eyes. Just for the way your hand felt in mine as we faced every impediment on this path we chose. For the spoken conversations and the unspoken ones. For you, for me. For us.