The Noctis Codex | DRARRY

FORTY-TWO

Seven days. Seven days until Draco would stand beside someone else, saying vows, binding himself to another life. Every fragile string of hope Harry had left was slowly unraveling, slipping from his grasp with every painful heartbeat. He knew the distance between them might never close, that this chapter of their lives together was closing, that the last touch they shared, the last smile exchanged, might be just that—their last. But hearing it, feeling the cold finality of it in Draco's words, had shattered something in Harry that he hadn't thought could still break.

For months, he had tried to move on, to silence the constant, gnawing ache of loss. Draco had left and disappeared without a trace. At first, Harry had held on, writing letter after letter, each one a lifeline he threw into the unknown, hoping it might somehow reach the blond. But every unanswered letter piled up, every unanswered plea slowly etched doubt into his heart. And now, all of it ended in the knowledge that Draco was getting married, and to someone else entirely.

He couldn't help but wonder: who was this girl? The "lucky" person that Draco would spend his life with, while Harry was left behind in the wreckage of what could have been. Did Draco love her, this mystery woman who could so easily take his place? Or was this a marriage of obligation, the old pureblood tradition of arranged marriages surfacing to crush any hope of something different? The thoughts tore at him, one after another, each one a wave crashing against his heart.

Lost in the storm of questions, Harry barely registered the celebration around him until Hermione's gentle whisper brought him back. He looked up, seeing her warm brown eyes filled with a silent understanding as she nodded toward Molly, who was holding up a glass, her voice a beacon of pride and love as she toasted them all. She congratulated each of them, her words ringing with the genuine warmth of a mother. Harry forced himself to raise his glass, clinking it against Hermione's and Ron's, but the gesture felt hollow, his mind still echoing with the one thought he couldn't shake.

As the evening stretched on, they gathered in small groups, conversations bubbling over food and laughter, with Molly bustling around, making sure everyone was fed. Harry tried to keep up, nodding along, sharing in the laughter where he could, but he felt distant, as though he were seeing it all from behind a veil. His thoughts returned to Draco over and over again, catching him in an endless loop of longing and disbelief.

As if sensing his need, the trio moved closer, speaking in hushed tones. Ron, always so perceptive in his own way, asked softly, "So, that was it? He just... said he's getting married, and left?"

"That was all he said, and then he just disappeared into the crowd."

Hermione leaned in, her brow furrowing with concern. "How did he seem, Harry? Did he... look happy? Or... or sad, maybe? Anything you noticed?"

He closed his eyes, recalling every detail he could muster. "He looked shocked to see me, like he hadn't expected it. But... there was something else, too. It was like he was looking for someone, like he couldn't quite focus. And he seemed frustrated. I don't know, it was hard to tell."

The girl's expression softened as she exchanged a look with her boyfriend. "Harry," she murmured, "there has to be a reason. This doesn't sound like Draco at all. An arranged marriage, maybe? From Lucius?"

Ron nodded in agreement, crossing his arms. "It would make sense. Draco's just nineteen; it's incredibly young to get married, especially after just confessing to you a few months back."

Harry's mind reeled. He'd thought the same thing, but the logic kept tangling in his heart. "But... why would Lucius force this? Why now?"

Suddenly, a low and wry voice interrupted them. "Because the Malfoys are all about wealth and influence, Harry. The family name is everything."