The Game | D.M

Epilogue

Eight Years Later

2005

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the sprawling garden of Blaise's lake house. The gentle breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the sweet scent of summer blooms across the lawn. 

Laughter echoed from the lake's edge where children splashed and played, their joyful voices mingling with the soft sounds of nature. It was a peaceful day, one filled with the kind of warmth and contentment that felt distant in the past, but now, it wrapped around them like a familiar, comforting embrace.

Draco sat in the garden with Blaise and Pansy, all three of them in quiet conversation, occasionally pausing to admire the new flowers that had sprung up since their last visit. 

It had become a tradition for them to spend the summers together at Blaise's lake house, their children growing up side by side, bound by the deep friendship of their parents. 

The air buzzed with life, as bees drifted lazily between flowers, and the light hum of conversation and laughter filled the space.

Draco's children were playing with Blaise's twins, racing around the garden, their small feet leaving soft prints in the lush grass. Their laughter was infectious, bringing smiles to the faces of the three adults as they walked through the garden, occasionally pausing to talk about the various flowers in bloom. 

Pansy had always been the one with a love for gardening, and now, with her eyes bright, she chatted about the new petals she had noticed, pointing out each detail with an enthusiasm that was contagious.

But as they made their way through the garden, they all came to a stop at a particular flower, tall and elegant, standing on its own in a secluded patch near the edge of the garden. 

The flower was striking—its petals a deep, rich maroon, a color that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. It was protected by a delicate charm, ensuring it remained undisturbed by the curious children or the elements. 

It stood apart from the others, cherished and special.

The flower had been planted years ago—by Blaise and Draco, as a way of honoring her memory. Aria.

Blaise's twins, a boy and a girl, had noticed the flower too. With bright smiles on their faces, they approached it, their small hands carefully avoiding the charm. 

The boy, his wide eyes filled with innocent wonder, bent down slightly, and with a sweet, simple voice, he spoke.

"Hello, Auntie Aria."

His twin sister mirrored his movements, her voice just as soft. "Hi, Auntie Aria."

For a moment, Draco's heart clenched. The children had grown up with stories of Aria, though they had never met her. She was a part of their lives in a way that transcended memory, and hearing them greet her so naturally was both heartwarming and heartbreaking.

The twins, satisfied with their greeting, ran back to join Draco's children, their laughter quickly resuming as they resumed their game. Pansy, who had been watching the scene with a tender smile, stepped closer to the flower. 

She reached out gently, her fingers brushing against one of the delicate petals. Her eyes softened, and for a moment, her usual lightheartedness gave way to a quiet, reflective sadness.

"Hello, Ari," she whispered softly. "I miss you."

She lingered for just a moment longer, a fond smile tugging at her lips before turning to glance back at Blaise and Draco. Her gaze was filled with unspoken understanding, and with a soft nod, she walked away toward the house, muttering something about checking on her pastries. 

As she disappeared into the kitchen, Blaise stayed behind, his expression thoughtful as he knelt by the flower, taking his time to study it.

"You've bloomed beautifully this year," Blaise said, his voice low, filled with the same affection and grief he always carried with him when speaking of Aria. 

He ran his hand gently over the air above the flower, never crossing the protective charm but close enough to feel the energy. "You always were beautiful, though."

He straightened up and turned to Draco, his eyes soft but heavy with shared pain. He reached out, placing a firm hand on Draco's shoulder, squeezing it in silent support. 

No words were exchanged; none were needed. The bond between the three of them, the way they had learned to live without her, had settled into a quiet, unspoken understanding.

After a moment, Blaise stepped away, giving Draco the space to be alone. As Blaise followed Pansy into the house, Draco was left standing in front of the flower, the soft breeze ruffling his blond hair. 

He stared at it, feeling the weight of the years pass over him as memories of Aria filled his mind. He hadn't expected the emotion to hit him so strongly today, but it did. It always did.

He sighed, his breath shaky, as he knelt down in front of the flower. His fingers traced the air just above the charm, the barrier between him and the one thing that still felt like Aria's presence.

"You've bloomed nicely," he murmured, his voice breaking just a little. "I haven't forgotten about you, Aria. Not even for a second."

For a long moment, he simply stared at the flower, the emotions swirling inside him too complex to name. He knew she was gone, but the part of him that loved her, that would always love her, had never truly let go. 

And he didn't think he ever would.

"I'm sorry I'm breaking your wish," he continued softly. "I know you told me to forget, to live my life, to move on, but... I can't. I can't forget what you did for me, for all of us." 

He shook his head, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive you for what you did, but I love you for it. I love you for everything."

His voice cracked, and he felt a single tear slip down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, but the emotion still lingered, raw and sharp.

"I miss you," he whispered, his words barely audible. "I miss you every day. And I'll see you again. Just... not yet."

With a deep, shuddering breath, Draco slowly rose to his feet, giving the flower one last look before turning away. 

As he walked back toward the house, his heart heavy but steady, another tear slid down his cheek, disappearing into the soft summer breeze.

Behind him, the maroon flower swayed gently in the wind, standing tall, solitary, and beautiful—just like Aria had always been.

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