𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 | ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴍɪᴏɴᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟᴇ

EPILOGUE

So what have we learned from this story?

First and foremost, bachelor parties?

Terrible idea.

Once you're in a committed relationship, going to bars or a strip club without your significant other is just asking for trouble. Whoever started the bachelor-party tradition should be buried alive in a mass grave with the karaoke guy and . . . well . . . I was going to say Ron Weasley.

But I guess we can let him live. I'm over it—he's harmless. He's also dim-witted, annoying, and . . . decent . . . a stand-up guy, a good friend.

You already knew that, didn't you?

We'll never be the best of friends, but from here on out, the one or two times a year I have to see him will actually be okay with me.

What else?

Have faith in yourself—it actually is possible to learn from your mistakes. I did. And this time, when I was on the spot, I didn't screw up. I believed in Hermione, trusted what we have, and did the right thing. Fucking finally.

Now let's get to the part you've been waiting for:

The wedding.

Harry, Theo and Blaise, my parents, Scorpius and I, arrive at St. Patrick's Cathedral right on time. Although they rarely close the church to the public, for our event—and to accommodate the thousand-plus guests sitting in the pews—the powers that be agreed to do just that. The hefty "donation" I gave didn't hurt either.

I keep an eye on my son as he runs up and down the aisle, stopping occasionally to bask in the attention of an adoring guest. Then I shake hands with Father Snape, the priest who'll actually be doing the deed.

"How are you feeling this afternoon, Draco? Are you ready?"

"I was born ready, Father."

"That's good to hear. Your bride's limousine has just arrived, so you can take your place at the altar."

There's no anxiety—no nervousness or fear that I'm making a mistake. No cold feet. The only thing I feel is . . . excitement. Impatience.

My mother retrieves Scorpius and they head back to the vestibule. My father and I walk up the side aisle, toward the altar.

About halfway there, he stops me with a hand on my shoulder. His grey-silver eyes, so much like my own, are filled with emotion. "If I haven't told you before, I want to make sure you know—I'm so proud of you, Son. You're a good man, you're an amazing father, and I have no doubt you'll be an outstanding husband. I'm so very proud, Draco."

Then he hugs me. Tight and secure, the kind of embrace that tells me even though I'm married and a father—he's still my dad and I'll always be his son.

"That means a lot, Dad," I say gruffly. "Thank you for being the best example of what a father, a husband, is supposed to be."

We pat each other's back. Then he taps my biceps. "Now get up there before Hermione changes her mind."

I smirk. "Highly unlikely."

He shrugs. "Better to be safe than sorry. I didn't think your mother would try backing out, either."

Haven't heard that one before. "Mom balked at marrying you?"

He slaps my back again. "That's a story for another day, Son. Go get yourself married—and enjoy every second of it."

With that, he walks to the back of the church. I meet Harry and Blaise at the altar. "You got the rings?" I ask Harry.

He taps his pocket. "Safe and sound."