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★★★
CHAPTER FOURTY-FOUR:
THE WEDDING NIGHT
★★★
The sun had dipped low over the beach, painting the sky in streaks of blue and gold as the wedding shifted to the beach. There were paper lanterns that hung in the sky and a warm breeze that flew on the grounds on Merlen. There were soft lights that were enchanted to float around. The soft hum of music mingled with laughter and a crash of waves made nearly everyone forget what faced them outside the island. Magic flickered in the air—not the kind conjured by wands, but the kind spun from joy and love and the kind of peace that felt almost too good to be real.
Tables were scattered across the sand, lined with coastal flowers, long candles, and plates piled high with food. Some people sat on the beach by the waves, other danced, many ate the food, but for the most, the people of Merlen joined them all in conversation. It had been obvious that there was not a wedding on the island for quite some time.
Phoebe and Ginny had kicked off their shoes almost the second they stepped onto the sand. They were twirling each other by the wrist, their laughter echoing out across the waves. Phoebe's wild curls were falling out of their pins, and Ginny's dress had sand up to the hem, but neither of them seemed to care.
Luke watched the two of them from the bar, shaking his head fondly and sipping something dark and fizzy. Every now and then, someone would pass and pat him on the back—mostly older men from the village. He nodded at them politely, but his eyes kept flicking back toward the crowd, subtly searching. And when they landed on Aurora, standing a ways down the beach in her black dress with Damien and Remus, something unreadable passed through his expression.
Ron and Harry were leaning against the driftwood bar beside Luke, laughing too loud, halfway through a conversation that clearly had no point. Harry was red-faced from the sun and champagne. He kept watching people dance like he couldn't quite believe the night was real. Every now and then, his eyes would shift in Aurora's direction, then quickly dart away.
Hermione stood by the cake table with Hestia, both of them trying to keep Magnolia's bouquet from wilting in the heat. They were murmuring together, smiling at something someone had said, and Hermione was gesturing with her hands the way she always did when she was explaining something complex.
