𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 | ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴍɪᴏɴᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟᴇ

EPILOGUE

When the pianist begins playing the prelude—"Angels Watching" by the O'Neill Brothers—Blaise announces, "That's our cue."

Harry grins my way and imitates the Terminator: "I'll be back." They both walk down the side aisle to the back of the church.

I'm left standing alone. Waiting.

I nod to the watching guests. One hand rests at my side, the other is folded across my lower back. I inhale a deep breath and blow it out slowly.

The string quartet in the orchestra bay begins to play Canon in D by Pachelbel.

It's game time.

The first to appear in the doorway are our parents. My father looks distinguished as he stands in the middle, my mother, wearing a plum gown, on one arm; Hermione's mother, in deep blue, is on the other. All three wear beaming smiles as they proceed down the aisle. Before my mother enters the pew, she blows me a kiss. She used to do the same thing when I was a kid, as I ran out the door to school—before I was old enough to ask her to stop.

I smile back at her meaningfully.

Next are my sister and Blaise. Pansy looks gorgeous in the strapless, burgundy bridesmaid gown Hermione chose. An ivory shawl demurely covers her shoulders: her blond hair is pinned up and curled, not a strand out of place. Her arm rests comfortably, confidently, through Blaise's. They glance at each other and I just know they're thinking of their own wedding. When they reach the altar, Blaise kisses Pansy sweetly, then they part and stand on their respective sides.

Theo and Astoria follow, arm in arm. Theo winks at a female guest as he strolls down the aisle and Astoria smiles joyfully. Brightly. If you ever wanted a good example of how a no-strings-attached hookup should be done, Theo and Astoria are it. No bad feelings, no awkwardness, just friendly, physical attraction.

After they reach the altar, it's Harry and Gin-Gin's turn—the best man and maid of honor. Wearing the same gown as my sister—instead of one of the whacked-out ensembles she typically dresses in—Ginny looks really good. She holds Harry's arm and sways her hips in time with the music, making him laugh at her silly exuberance. When they reach the altar, she looks me up and down—then gives me a thumbs-up.

I nod at her silent compliment.

Ginny stands beside my sister, and Harry takes his place to my left.

One more couple to go before Hermione makes her entrance. This couple will steal the whole fucking show. I knew it, Hermione knew it, and neither of us minded at all.

Mackenzie and Scorpius.

The flower girl and the ring bearer. The gold mine of every wedding photographer who ever worked.

Mackenzie's dress is white lace with cap sleeves. Her long hair is pulled up at the sides with white daisies woven into the crown of black braids. She's old enough to be called beautiful but still enough of a kid to be called adorable. Her blue eyes shine as she waves to me from the end of the aisle.

I wave back.

She takes my son's hand and together they make their way to me. Scorpius looks impressively lovable in his own custom Armani tux. He's surprisingly well behaved—keeping pace with Mackenzie, holding his ring-bearer pillow straight, grinning for all the cameras taking their picture.

When they reach the altar, Scorpius drops Mackenzie's hand, ditches his pillow, and runs straight to me. "Daddy!"

I scoop him up and look into his big, brown eyes.

"Is good?" he asks.

"You did great, buddy." I kiss his temple. "Go sit with Grandma Cissy and Pop Pop Lucy now, okay?"