I Do

An ordinary wizarding home with a little garden.

In the study, books the two of them had collected filled every corner, Muggle and magical works mingling harmoniously to form a universe of knowledge that belonged only to them.

Caesar sat in the old armchair by the window, reading a rare old book about an obscure branch of Eastern alchemy in the afternoon sunlight.

Hermione curled up on the sofa, frowning slightly as she reviewed Ministry of Magic documents. Every so often, she looked up to ask him about the history behind some legal clause.

Time flowed quietly by, accompanied only by the scratch of quills across parchment and the soft rustle of turning pages.

Sometimes Caesar would put down his book and go stand behind her, gently massaging her tense shoulders. In return, she would sigh contentedly and lean back against him.

"Sometimes I feel like none of this is real," she said softly, eyes closed. "Like a dream that's too good to be true."

"Why?"

Hermione fell silent.

She didn't answer. She only buried her face more deeply in his chest and breathed in his scent.

Caesar fell silent too.

His hand rested on her shoulder, his movements growing gentle and restrained.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, casting a pattern of light and shadow across the study floor.

Dust swirled and drifted slowly in the beams of light, as if time itself had taken shape.

The secret they both knew lay between them like a transparent film. They could see it, but neither reached out to touch it.

"Caesar." Hermione finally spoke, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the wind outside.

"Hmm?"

"If this really is a dream," she said, still leaning against him without looking up, "then I hope I never wake up."

Caesar tightened his arms around her. He could feel her trembling, ever so slightly.

It was a cloudy dusk, and the outline of the Hogwarts Castle ruins was just visible in the distance.

Caesar knelt awkwardly on one knee.

There was no dazzling jewel in his hand, only a simple silver ring. He had permanently enchanted it with starlight and a gentle breeze.

Hermione stood before him in her ordinary wizard's robes, still clutching a proposal she hadn't finished reading.

Her brown eyes first widened in astonishment, then quickly shimmered with tears. Yet the corners of her mouth lifted despite herself, her smile pure and radiant.

There was no grand ceremony or crowd of onlookers. Only the breeze from the Black Lake, gently stirring her curls.

Just like the rain and fog in London years ago, drifting across the window of a double-decker bus.

He looked up at her and spoke the request he had never truly imagined making, through all those long years and countless schemes. "Marry me."

Her tears finally fell, but she nodded firmly and threw herself into his arms, laughing as she scolded him for being "so unprepared—not like you at all."

The instant Hermione fell into his arms, another dusk suddenly flashed through her mind—

Beneath a gray sky, he turned and walked into the twilight without looking back.

She stood at the door of her home, holding that silly plush rabbit and clutching the warm necklace in her hand.

Back then, she hadn't known that the figure who seemed to be leaving forever was actually the beginning of a promise.

At that moment, the promise was finally fulfilled.

The two of them kissed in the gentle breeze and sunlight by the lake.

The kiss was long and tender, as if it could make up for all the time they had missed and soothe every hidden scar.

As the ring slid onto her finger, the tiny starlight charm quietly activated, and flecks of light swirled around their fingertips as if alive.

A quiet lakeside somewhere in Scotland.

Caesar wore a wide-brimmed hat and sat on a little folding stool. His fishing rod had been still for ages; his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

Hermione worked at a picnic blanket spread out nearby, though more often she rested her chin in her hand and watched him, or gazed absently at the lake.

Sunlight shattered into a thousand golden coins on the water, and a Muggle boat drifted past in the distance. There were no schemes, no mortal dangers—only a peace so ordinary it felt like a luxury.

Sometimes she would come over, wrap her arms around him from behind, and rest her face against his back without saying a word.

He would set down his fishing rod and hold her arms where they circled him, gently stroking the simple silver ring on her finger.

"Sometimes I think about the London Eye," she said suddenly, her voice muffled against his back. "That rainy afternoon, when we stood so high up, with the whole city beneath us.

"You stood behind me, quiet as a shadow, but I could feel you there, just like I can now."

Caesar's hand paused for a moment, then held hers more tightly. "I'll always be by your side."

It was a simple wedding, filled with blessings.

It wasn't held in the Ministry of Magic's grand hall or in some ancient Pure-blood family manor. It was in their own flower-filled backyard.

There weren't many guests:

The Grangers, there to wish them well with all their hearts. As Hermione walked toward Caesar with her father's arm in hers, she saw her mother discreetly wiping away tears.

A few of the friends Hermione had truly grown close to during her student years stood among the guests, winking at her.

There were also several important collaborators from the Ministry of Magic, as well as a few professors from the four new schools who had kept in touch with them since Hogwarts was disbanded.

Hermione didn't wear an elaborate wedding dress, only a simple white robe, her curls adorned with dewy lilies.

She looked as unadorned as the girl who had once stood at her door after the rain, clutching a plush rabbit.

As they exchanged their vows, the sky was clear and bright. A few curious owls, drawn by the scent of flowers, landed on the garden fence and tilted their heads to watch.

When he said, "I do," her eyes shone with a light brighter than the stars.

Before she spoke her own vows, Hermione paused for a moment, her gaze passing beyond Caesar as if she could see somewhere far away.

"A long time ago," she said, her voice clear and steady, "someone gave me a gift and told me it represented an 'absolute.'

"An absolute that could never truly be broken, no matter how far apart we were or what adversity we faced.

"Today, standing here, I want to give that person my answer."

She raised her hand, her fingertips unconsciously brushing the front of her robe. The necklace was no longer there, but the gesture had become a deeply ingrained habit.

"My answer to you is: I do."

She looked straight into Caesar's eyes and said, word by word, "Not because of the 'absolute' you once promised me. But because, without even realizing it, you became my absolute from that rainy afternoon onward."

Caesar's throat bobbed.

In that moment, his usually inscrutable eyes clearly reflected the emotion he could no longer hide, profound and sincere.