The grand hall of the Greengrass estate was alive with muted chatter and the soft clink of crystal. Long tables dressed in white silk stretched beneath chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the crowd. The air smelled faintly of lavender and polished wood, mingling with the delicate sweetness of freshly cut roses.
Guests from both sides of the wizarding world had gathered, old families in their finest robes, Ministry officials, and familiar faces from their Hogwarts days. The atmosphere was heavy with expectation, tradition, and secrets left unspoken.
Daphne stood near the edge of the crowd, her hands folded neatly in front of her, the sapphire ring catching the light every so often. The dress she wore was a deep emerald green, sleeveless, with an open back and intricate embroidery that shimmered like serpent scales under the light. The cut hugged her waist before falling in soft, fluid waves to the floor. Her hair was swept into a low chignon, with a few strands left loose to soften the severity of her features.
Oliver was beside her, calm but alert, dressed in black dress robes that contrasted against the silver trim on his collar… and the way the material clung to his shoulders didn't go unnoticed. His hand rested lightly on the small of her back, a silent reminder that, for all their battles and uncertainties, they were bound together today.
He leaned in and brushed a quick kiss to her nose. "I adore this nose of yours… my little uptight witch."
She didn't smile, but her eyes flickered… and that was enough.
"Stop looking like you're about to hex someone," he murmured, still close.
"I'm not," she said, voice clipped.
"Your jaw is doing that thing again… the one that screams 'run while you still can.'"
She gave him a side glance, lips twitching. "I thought that was the point. Keep them guessing."
He chuckled under his breath. "Merlin help me, I married a Slytherin."
"You married a Greengrass," she corrected, arching a brow.
"Same thing… twice the danger, half the remorse."
Across the room, Pansy Parkinson sat beside Neville Longbottom. The once fiery Slytherin looked subdued, her painted smile a little too tight. Neville sat stiffly beside her, seemed distracted, eyes drifting towards the floor more often than hers. They avoided each other's gaze, their silences louder than words. The contrast between the two was stark, the space between them filled with a practiced silence rather than warmth.
"You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself," Pansy murmured, still not looking at him.
"I am," Neville replied flatly. "This is me enjoying things."
"They're still avoiding each other," Oliver murmured, following Daphne's gaze.
"They're playing pretend. Like the rest of us," she said, then paused. A soft, almost teasing smile touched her lips. "Though not everyone hides it with the subtlety of a blunt Quidditch player."
Oliver blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Was that… was that a joke? From you?"
She shrugged, looking ahead again. "Even Greengrasses have their moments."
His grin spread slowly, genuine and bright. "By Morgana's tits, you really do know how to surprise a bloke."
Not far from them, Theo Nott and Luna Lovegood sat at one of the long tables. Luna's fingers twisted the stem of her wine glass as she stared dreamily at the floating candles above, murmuring something under her breath about moon auras and seasonal alignments. Her voice was soft, almost musical, as if she were speaking more to the air than to anyone at all.
Theo, rigid in his chair, turned slowly toward her. His eyes narrowed… not in irritation, but in sheer puzzlement. He looked at her like one might study a rare magical creature, unsure whether it would bite or bless. Intrigued despite himself.
Then, as the music shifted into a slower waltz, Luna stood and turned to him with a gentle, absent smile. "Would you like to dance, Theodore? The stars say it's an auspicious moment."
He blinked. "Do they now?"
She nodded solemnly, already reaching for his hand as if the matter had been settled long before he had a say.
With a resigned sigh and something oddly close to amusement tugging at his mouth, he stood and let her lead him to the floor. They began to move, awkward at first… his posture stiff, hers light and fluid… but something in their rhythm slowly found sync.
From the sidelines, Daphne watched them, her head tilting slightly. "He's dancing. With her."
Oliver followed her gaze. "And he hasn't hexed himself yet. Miracles do happen. Theo looks like he'd rather be anywhere else."
"He's not used to her light," Daphne replied. "And she doesn't know how to dim it."
When Hermione moved toward the ceremony space, her path crossed with Draco's. Daphne didn't need to hear their words to feel the familiar crackle between them… it pulsed in the air like magic brewing under skin.
Hermione rolled her eyes, clearly irritated by his presence… but she didn't step away.
Draco stepped closer, shameless, and took her hand. His thumb brushed across her ring finger… slow, deliberate… eyes catching on the silver and emerald Malfoy heirloom that circled it.
"So it's official," he murmured, brushing his thumb across the Malfoy crest. "You wear it like it means something. Can't wait for the day you're officially mine."
Daphne looked away… not out of discomfort, but because some things were too intimate to witness.
--
The terrace was quieter now. Inside, the music had shifted, laughter rose and fell, and someone ... probably Ginny ... was already starting a drinking contest. But out here, only the wind moved.
Daphne leaned against the stone balustrade, arms folded, jaw tight. The moonlight caught the curve of her cheekbone, the exposed line of her collarbone. Her ring glinted ... a quiet reminder of what today had meant, even if she hadn't fully let herself feel it.
Oliver stepped out behind her, shutting the door with a soft thud. "Well," he said, voice casual, "our wedding was slightly less catastrophic than I expected."
She didn't turn. "That's because I didn't stab anyone."
"A milestone," he said dryly. "Should we commemorate it?"
Her eyes flicked sideways. "You brought cake?"
"No, but I brought music." He pulled his wand, murmured a low incantation, and a melody spilled into the air ... raw, haunting. The guitar scraped, almost broken, and Billy Corgan's voice followed like a slow spell.
Disarm you with a smile…
She froze. "Is this… Muggle?"
"Yeah," he said. "Found it when I was fifteen. Hormonal. Angry. Thought the world owed me something."
"So nothing's changed."
He grinned. "Some things. I got hotter."
She raised a brow. "Debatable."
"But you noticed."
Her silence wasn't denial.
He stepped in closer, his hand brushing the fabric at her hip. "Dance with me."
"I don't dance."
"Liar."
"I don't slow dance."
"Not even once?"
She scoffed. "You asked me at the Yule Ball, remember?"
He smirked. "You said, and I quote, 'I'd rather be eaten by a Basilisk.'"
"And yet here we are… married."
He laughed and pulled her in.
One hand on her waist. The other laced with hers.
The rhythm was strange. Imperfect. But they moved anyway.
She let herself lean into him ... just barely. Let her body remember the shape of him. The way he always felt too steady, too close, like he knew what she was afraid to name.
"Why this song?" she murmured.
"I like what it does to you."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You're not pretending."
That hit something. Sharp.
She looked up, eyes narrowing. "You think you know me."
"I think I'm starting to."
Her heart thudded once. Loud.
She didn't reply.
Instead, her hand came up, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. And then… she kissed him.
Not hard. Not slow. Just intentional. Her lips brushing his like a secret. Like she didn't want to want him… but did anyway.
He froze for a second ... breath stalling ... then pulled her just a bit closer. Their foreheads touched. The world blurred.
When she stepped back, she kept her hand in his.
"Don't read into it," she whispered.
He didn't speak. Just laced their fingers tighter.
"I mean it," she added, quieter this time.
"I know," he said… but his thumb moved once across her palm.
And in the hush between two heartbeats… they stayed.