“Iloveyou,”Ginnyissayingatthefrontofthemall,chokingbacktears,oneofthefewtimesthatDracohadeverseenhercry.“Iloveyou,Iloveyou,Iloveyou,andthat,LunaLovegood,isnotsomethingthatIwasgoingtohavetheabilitytostandwiththesepeopleandsay.Wespentsolongfighting.Solongrunning.”It’slikeherwordsarereachingouttothecrowd,addressingeveryone,wrappingeveryoneintothiscircleoflovethatshehasinherheart,Harrymostofall.“Andnowit’sover.Therearesomedays—alotofdays—whereIwakeupandlookaroundanddon’tknowwhattodowithmyself,becausetherearesomanyemptyplaceswherethepeopleIloveshouldbestanding,somanythingsthatIcandonowthathadseemedimpossibleonlyafewmonthsago—andIdon’tknowhowtohandleit.ButthenIlookatyouandIknowthatit’sokay,becauseIknowexactlywhatI’mgoingtodo.I’mgoingtoloveyou,Luna.Fortherestofmylife,I’mgoingtoloveyou.”
Dracosqueezeshishandagain,andwhenHarrylooksover,therearetearsshininginhiseyes.
“Iloveyou,too.”Lunaisnotoneforspeeches,notlikeGinny,butshelooksradiantupthere,thehappinesspouringoffofherinwavestoinfecttherestofthecrowd.“Iloveyouwitheverythinginme.IhaveforaslongasIcanremember.”
There’samomentwhereHarrythinkssheisgoingtocry,butthensheshakesherhairbackfromherfaceandsmilesthatbeautiful,watery,radiantsmileandpushesthroughit.Notthatitwouldhavemattered.Lunadoeswhatshewants,whenevershewants,andifshewantstocryduringhervows,therewasnothingwrongwiththat.Weddingsaretheoneplacewheretearsarealwaysagoodthing.
Inhishead,hecanhearDracoansweringhim.Notalways,hewouldhavesaid,ifHarryhadmentionedthethoughtoutloud,andthenhewouldhavesomestoryaboutsomefamilymemberoranotherandtheirtwistedloveaffairandHarrywouldstoplisteninghalfwaythroughjusttowatchhim,toseethewayhetalksandlooksattheworldandthewaythathelooksbackathim,likeHarryisthebestthinginhisentireworld.
It’srude,todothisatawedding,butconsideringallthetimethatGinnyhadtowastelisteningtoHarrypine,hethinkshe’llbeforgiven.
“It’sokayifyouhavetostickwithmaybe’s.”HarryhasleanedovertowhisperrightintoDraco’sear,andotherthanaraisedeyebrowfromFleur,whoseemstohaveappointedherselftheguardianofetiquette,nooneseemstonotice.“Ifyoucanneversayit.BecauseIknow.Iknowthatyouloveme,andIknowthatIloveyouwitheveryachinginchofmysoul,doyouunderstandDracoMalfoy?FortherestofmylifeI’mgoingtoloveyou,andthere’snothingyoucandoaboutitnow.”
Dracodoesn’tanswer.
Hedoesn’thaveto.
LikeHarryhadsaid—tearsataweddingarealwaysagoodthing.
Draco
Afterthewhirlwindofcelebrations,DracofindshimselfsittingacrossfromRon’sAuntMuriel.
Everyonehadwarnedhimabouther.Abouthowmeanshewas,howshedoesnotcareaboutpeople’sfeelings,howthereisnocomment(nomatterhowuncomfortable)thatshewillletgounsaid.Heronejoyinlife,accordingtoGeorge,isruininganotherwisepleasantoccasionbymakingpeoplesquirm.
“Soyou’rethePotter’sboyfriend?”Shewrinklesuphernose.Dracocan’ttellwhatabout—himorHarryorthefactthattheyaretogether,orifshejustdidn’tlikehiscologne.Somanythingsabouthimcouldbeunderattackinnothingmorethanasecondandhewouldn’tevenknowwhathithim.“Iknewyourfather.”
This,atleast,wasnotsomethingthathewouldhaveseencoming.Therearen’tmanypeopleherewhowouldbringupadeatheateratawedding,especiallywhenthatdeatheaterwasafamilymemberrottingawayinAzkaban.Butthosepeoplearen’tAuntMuriel.
“Andyourmother.AndyourAunt.Ihelpedputherawaythefirsttime.”She’stakenoverbyacoughingfitthen,onethatmakeshershouldersheaveandbendsherdowntothetable,clawedfingerscurlingaroundthetableclothtoeaseherthroughit.Dracoisalreadyonhisfeetwithaglassofwaterwhenshewaveshimaway,staringacrossthetableagain,herbeadyeyessteamingfromtheeffortofcatchingherbreath.“TheyhadmeontheWizengamotcommittee.”
Dracodidn’tknowwhattosay.It’snotlikeitwasmuchofafeat,sendingBellatrixtoAzkaban.Nooneeverdoubtedthatshewasguilty.“Areyoustill?”
Wrongquestion.Heknowsitfromthewaysheholdsherself,herposturetightening.“No.”
“Whynot?”
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