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*Simon’s POV*
It was a bit weird, saying goodbye to something that had been such a big part of our life together. It’s where I started cooking, where Baz started writing, where we first… y’know… (And again and again, after that, too.) I s’pose it was only a matter of time since we had just bought a house together. Nothing too big or glamorous, despite what Baz had wanted. (I usually won if I kicked up enough of a fuss.) It was big enough for the both of us to live comfortably (and of course we had to live next to Penny) with our dog Crup, but small enough that it wasn’t obnoxiously large for us. We didn’t need much space, after all. And it was supposed to start the next chapter of our lives together- which was much needed.
But there we were, saying goodbye to our first (and last, I guess) flat, and I was bloody tearful. I had always been emotional. Baz said it made me well ‘adorable’ but I didn’t think so. It’s just that we had so many firsts in our first home, just us, and it almost felt like I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. Almost.
“Simon, love. The movers are waiting downstairs,” Baz took my hand, and I guess I realized that I didn’t need a flat to feel at home. My home was wherever Baz was. It took me a long time to realize that… too long. I looked up and Baz smiled when he wiped the tears off my face. “Ready?” I took one last look around to say goodbye for the last time. To the bloody food stains on the carpet that Baz always yelled at me for. To the place where the chairs were, when I’d climb on his lap to distract him from his reading. To the kitchen, where he’d always come up from behind me and wrap his long arms around my torso when I was cooking something new. To the bedroom when we first… and then to the living room that held similar memories… then the kitchen…
One time Penny had walked in on us while we were having a bath (we were too caught up in each other to hear her come in) and from then on she always yelled her presence whenever she came into our flat. I had floundered about like a fish drowning. (Baz always told me that’s not how it works, and then I’d tell him if humans could drown in water, then fish could drown in air.) Baz just smirked and kept mouthing on me. (I wasn’t really in a place to whinge… I half-arsed yelled at Penny to leave and come back later.)
I looked back up at Baz and smiled brighter at him before planting a firm kiss on his lips. (Still had three inches on me, the tosser…) “Ready.” I murmured against his lips.
Goodbye, flat. Hello home.
…
“So… you’re telling us- what, exactly?” He had said, looking at Dr. Wellbelove. We all collectively took a breath in.
“I’m saying that the risk of removing the wings and the tail without having any prior knowledge or experience about it… it’s too great. We can’t remove them.” I cried a lot that day. In fact, I broke down right in Dr. Wellbelove’s office. Right awkward, that was. Baz had comforted me, as he always did. Secretly, I think he was bloody pleased. I was sure that he fancied my tail; not that he ever told me. Fitting, that was. Him fancying something about me that I didn’t like about myself. But when I said I fancied his vampirism, he would not bite me. (I convinced him a long while later. If I kicked up much of a fuss…)
It felt like maybe the world was closing in on me, which I hadn’t quite felt since America. I’d have to keep the wings- the one thing keeping me from feeling normal. (Baz’d said he didn’t want normal. He wanted me. I shagged him right nicely that night.) But he stuck with me throughout the whole thing, and that’s when I knew he was my forever. I couldn’t live without him. I didn’t want to.
So that night I had to say goodbye to any sense of real normalcy I could’ve had. Penny’r Baz’d have to keep spelling them hidden, and I’d never get to go without feeling their magic again. (That is, until Penny found a spell that made the wings and tail go away altogether. Lasted ‘bout a month. Baz wasn’t very fond of it so we compromised and Pen spelled my wings gone, but not the tail.) (Also- we learned to compromise on things. That was new.)
Goodbye being normal. Hello being eternally different with my vampire boyfriend.
…
Those memories are the ones I think about now, standing up here. They’re the ones that brought me - us - to where we are today. I never would've guessed.
*Baz’s POV*
“Have you ever done this?” I had panted above him. He looked up at me, skin flushed, bronze curls tousled, and perfectly out of breath. (My doing.) (Bloody angelic, it was.)
He thought a moment, pressed flush against me. “Yes,” Another moment. “No.” I cocked an eyebrow at him, then. (It got him more riled up, despite what he said. I could feel it against my hip.)
“Yes or no?” I asked. (How do you not know if you’ve had a shag?)
“Yes. Not like this.” With Agatha I presumed. I hated- hated that. But… not like what? Different? Good? Bad?
“Not with a boy?” He nodded his head- but then shook it. The man was a walking contradiction, but fuck if I didn’t love it. (I still do.)
He thought for yet another moment before looking at me; really looking. I felt like I was on fire. Perhaps I was. He pulled me in for a (tortuously) slow snog, before settling back onto the pillow.
“Not when I really wanted it.” My heart had swelled- and we carried on.
…
The eternal bloody nightmare Snow and I were (are, still), we had proposed at the same time. Well, in a sense. I had the bloody ring in my pocket and plans for a picnic later that evening, but Snow beat me to it. And with something so childish, I might add.
I was re-reading a classic favorite of mine (A Farewell To Arms- Hemingway was Picasso with his words) on our sofa when his proposal had started. The bloody wreck had planned a proposal over the course of (TBD) days. “Read a chapter a day,” he had said. I hadn’t understood why, at the time. After the fact he always teased me about the fact that it had taken me so long to work out. I hated that I loved his teasing.
The first sticky note in the book said something simple. “I’m lucky to have found you.” In that damned perfectly Simon Snow chicken scratch he writes in. The next day at the end of the chapter, another sticky note said “To think, we could’ve been in love all these years…”
I thought he was just being a romantic tit, as per usual. (Since we had worked mostly through all of our America issues, he had made it a point to be extra loving. I wasn’t in a place to whinge, even after all the months of neglect.) When I looked up at him, he pretended that he didn’t know what I was on about. Insisted on it, actually. (I made right sure to properly… thank him in other ways. I think he got the message.) But as the days and chapters went by, the notes became more personal. They started connecting in run-off sentences into continued sentences- it read almost like a speech that you would read parts of at a time. (I could spend the time listing out each and every damned bloody note - of course I’ve them burned into my memory - but those were for my eyes only. Even Bunce wasn’t aware of it.)
After the last chapter, there was no sticky note. (However, I’d collected and arranged the rest in order in our bedside table.) I had my ring for Snow heavy in my pocket, waiting to come out in a few simple hours. When I had looked up to the sofa across from my armchair, Simon was jotting something down on a bright blue sticky note. (I wasn’t completely daft; I had an inkling of what he had been doing. But I couldn’t have been sure.) So I sighed and closed the book for the tenth time (at least) and set it on the side table.
When I had gotten up to use the loo, there Simon Snow was (in all of his fucking glowy, tousled, perfect glory) down on one knee, a sticky note plastered to his forehead. (It was a sight, seeing something so ridiculous during arguably one of the most important times in my dreadful worthlessness of a life.)
“Will you marry me?” Was written on the note, in better handwriting than I had ever seen him use prior. (I almost thought Bunce had done it for him.)(That very sticky note is hanging, framed, above our bed, now.) My knees buckled, and in proper form, my hand flew up to my chest. (I tried so bloody desperately not to cry, but alas. It also had crossed my mind that I should’ve been wearing something more than Simon’s joggers and a t-shirt.)
I fumbled for the ring in my joggers pocket and knelt in front of him, too. It was right fucking absurd, lunging in front of each other while we were crying in our pyjamas, a sticky note on Simon’s head. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way. It was perfectly, chaotically, beautifully disastrous. Something I’d always said our relationship was.
I remember the way the ring felt when it was first slipped on my finger. Actually- perhaps that’s a lie. I think all I first remember was Simon’s lips on mine for what felt like hours. (And hours and hours and hours after the fact, as well. For the next week, I don’t think his lips left my skin for longer than an hour at a time.)(Not that I was complaining.)
We were getting married. A bittersweet fantasy back in Watford- a dream I would indulge to my aching tragedy soon after. And then... a reality.
…
“Baz. No one is asking you to do this. Y’don’t have-” I held my hand up to keep him quiet. Then, I laced my fingers with his and made that dreadful eye contact with him that left me simultaneously bursting and imploding every bloody time.
“I know- I know, Simon. But I want to. This is my decision. This is… this is how I want to spend the rest of our lives together.” Magic had always been home to me. A thing I could always rely on when things were too much to bear; a sanctuary. It was what connected me and my mum (me and my whole family, as a matter of fact), tossed me in the path of Simon Snow, and felt more safe to me than even those blue eyes and bronze curls for so long. To light a match and blow on the tinder… it was a privilege and an honour. A part of me.
But once Simon and I were well and truly happy… he became my home. The only home I needed; the only home I wanted. And him losing his magic was so utterly devastating to him, and despite what he said, I knew that the fact that I still had my magic and my magic had me was so hard for him. And he was more home to me - more family to me - than anything else ever had been. So we were having the conversation to determine what seemed like everything and nothing at all.
“If you’re doing this just for me, then-”
“I’m doing it for us, love. I promise to you… nothing - not even magic - has ever been as important to me as you. I’m doing this, Simon. For us. For our future.” He gave me his trademark Simon Snow Sad Smirk™ and squeezed my hands before jumping into my arms. His tears were soiling my jumper, but I’d let him soil it a thousand times. Go ahead and shoot me, Snow. This isn't my favorite shirt.
He mumbled incoherently into my jumper (as always) and I asked him to repeat himself. He looked up at me, eyes rimmed with red. My perfect disaster. “You’ve no idea how, um. How much this means to me- er. Um,” He paused, trying to collect himself. I was learning to be patient with him still, so I waited. “Thank you, darling.” And from that point I was sold. I would be giving up my magic for the wedding day. For him.
…
And it’s these memories I can’t help but reflect upon as I stand here today. If you would have told me ten years ago I would get to me doing this now… I would have spit on your face. I would’ve damned you to the darkest bloody parts of Hell- but I would still hope. I would have just a sliver of hope for the future. And it’s that hope, among a million other seemingly small things, that has led us here.
*Penny’s POV*
After everything that happened when we got back from America, it’s odd to be back here at Watford on its closing day. It’s even more odd that they chose their wedding to be at the gates of the school, just an hour before it closes permanently. (I’ve heard magicians will be sent to a new wizarding school- Hogwarts, I believe? Sounds like a load of tosh to me.) Simon looks so handsome, as always. He’s positively glowing, in a way he hasn’t since he had his magic. (Baz does that to him. All the time, actually. Both are too thick to notice.) I turn to the seat beside me and squeeze Shep’s hand. He gives me a knowing smile and squeezes back, handing me a tissue. (He knows me much too well, I suppose.)
“It’s just that-” I’m almost hiccuping through my words and Shep puts his arm around me. Then I feel his forehead press into mine.
“I know, babe.”
“And I never thought-”
He nods against me. “I know.” And he really does, I suppose. He knows me better than anyone; other than Simon. He knows how many emotions I’m going through now. (To give myself credit, I did go into labour just a bloody month ago.)(Baby Trixie is happy and healthy- though Simon endlessly teases me about her name. He can laugh all he wants. It suits her.) On top of the baby, now my best friend since second year is getting married to his ex-arch-nemesis. I always knew this would be how it ended, but Crowley did it take them a long time to figure it out!
But as he stands up at the archway in his suit (dapper as Simon could possibly get), the biggest grin on his face I’ve ever seen- I realize that it’s better late than never. They figured it out, and that’s all that matters. (I suppose I shouldn't judge too much, seeing as it took Shep and I a few months to figure things out. But Simon and Baz… they took pining to another, astronomical level.)
When Baz starts walking down the aisle, I swear I’ve never seen a larger grin on anyone’s face in my life. And the best part? I can’t tell whose is bigger. It will be a bloody Merlin-worked miracle if I manage to finish the wedding without sobbing. (Again.) My Simon… all grown up when no one thought he would be.
*Simon’s POV*
Fuck me. I think my brain has malfunctioned and burst into flames. (That used to be a genuine worry back when I was a bursting inferno.) Baz is walking down in that suit he wore the night when we first kissed… I’ve never been more unable to speak. (Which is, might I say, a big fucking statement.)(I hope the big grin plastered on my face is words enough. ‘ve never been good with them.) I just love him so much, and I can’t believe it took me this long to figure everything out. Especially when he’s just been walking around the world looking like that all of his life.
After I had lost my magic, I felt empty all the time. Like my overflowing well had just all the sudden gone completely empty. But right this very second, I feel even more full than I did when I had my magic. But this full- it’s different. It’s… warm and cold all at once. It’s fulfilling. It’s Baz. I’ve been missing him all my life even when he’s been right next to me. And now it feels like the last puzzle piece is being clicked in.
I take a second to pay my respects to the empty seats in the front row, right in front of me. For Natasha, Ebb, Lucy, my mom. (I never knew her, but she seemed lovely. If only I had figured it out sooner.) Even though Baz threw a right bloody hissy fit, we even have a chair for the mage. But after I’ve nodded to each chair, I spring my eyes right back to Baz. They always seem to do that, my eyes. Go to Baz. (I think they always have. I just used to think it was because he was plotting, and not because I wanted to touch his arse. I’ve been so wrong, so many times. But this… this is right.)
Baz in this suit might even (dare I fucking say it) trump him in jeans. I’ve gone bloody insane, I have. He makes me insane.
*Baz’s POV*
Simon Snow looks stunning in a grey suit. I suppose I discovered that years and years ago, but it’s different this time. Because I’m marrying him. (I try my bloody damnedest not to cry. I don’t want to smudge my eyeliner.)(I tear up nonetheless. So does he, to my eternal surprise.) My father has agreed to walk me down the aisle, something I had never thought previously possible. Crowley thank Daphne.
“Y’know, it’s not too late to back out, Basilton.” I hear quietly beside me. At first, I think he’s serious, but when I cast a sidelong glance at my father, he’s wearing the smirk Simon says I wear so well.
“Your hilarity never ceases to amaze, father. I’m laughing on the inside.” When he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corner. Malcom Grimm smiling. On my wedding day. To a bloke. Not just any bloke; my enemy. (Not my enemy anymore, I remind myself. He hasn’t been for a long time. I still have to convince myself of that absurd fact every day, even now.)
We’re walking slower than I’d like, but I understand that my father has reservations. Not the same reservations as he used to. These ones are more protective, while the past ones were more for his own sanity. I think Daphne helped him realize that his sanity is something that receded just as quickly as his hairline.
“If he hurts you-”
“I know, father.”
“I’m serious, Basil, I will kill-”
“Father,”
“If he touches a hair on your head-” I cut him off one last time with a word I’ve never used before.
“Dad!” And I’m sure I’ve rendered him utterly speechless, because he almost stops right in his tracks. When I take my eyes off of Simon for only a moment (my eyes have always liked a view- who am I to deny them now?), my father’s eyes are glistening. I almost think it’s a trick of the light, but then one perfectly crafted tear slips down his cheek. Like in the bloody movies.
We get to the end of the aisle, right in front of Simon. I turn to hug father, and he wraps a strong arm around my back and uses his other arm to hold the back of my head. (A much more intimate hug than we’ve shared before, this.) He whispers in my ear, “Son,” and I know I’ve his blessing and so much more. Son. He’s never been able to express his feelings, but with this one word, I know it’s his way of saying that he loves me. That he’s proud of me. Then, he walks to his seat and I’m left to stand in front of the love of my life. Simon Snow and his gorgeous grey suit.
*Ebb’s POV*
I bloody knew it, I did! I’m sitting next to a glowing Lucy (and a begrudging Davy) and a reserved Natasha in our seats. Sweet of the boys to give us chairs! But anyhow, I would just like to say a big fat I told you so. An I told you so to Lucy, Natasha, the mage, Nico and the world in general. Because I knew the dead one and my Simon would get together. There was always something there. I could tell from the moment I noticed Simon going down to the pitch even when he wasn’t on the team.
I’d like to partially credit myself for them getting together, actually. After all, I’m the bloody one that got our Simon boy to go down to the Pitch’s creepy castle. Merlin, I’d like to think that my death helped bring them together, too. I s’pose I can’t take all the credit… but most, I think.
And now there they are, standing in their dashing suits, looking at each other like there’s no one else in the bloody world. Simon finally looks happy. He never really did, before. I think of him almost as my own, and to see him finally really happy- Crowley, now I’m getting emotional…
*Lucy’s POV*
Ebb is a sobbing mess beside me, and Natasha is watching the ceremony like it’s the only thing on the telly. A begrudging Davy is beside me, watching our baby boy get married. (I guess he’s not really a baby anymore, but I like to think of him as one, still.) I don’t think Davy ever really considered him his, but Simon is mine. He was in my belly, making a full, warm home for himself for nine months. While he was with me, briefly, Davy and I were still happy. And so in love… Merlin were we in love. Beside me, he looks mildly uncomfortable, and his hand fidgets in mine.
“Now Davy…” I start quietly, even though no one can hear me. “I know you’re not happy about this, but look at our boy!” I can feel tears welling in my eyes, and I think he’s about to complain until he looks over at me. His face gets softer. (I always knew he had a soft spot for me… I think it just took a couple of deaths to bring it back out.)
“Oh Lucy. I just wish I could’ve fixed him. So he wasn’t,” He looks over at our boy. “Like this.” I look over at Simon with him, but I see nothing broken. If anything, he’s fuller than he was before. But a different type of full. Full with love. I know how intoxicating that can be. How consuming. But he hasn’t let it cloud his judgement; not like I did. Instead, he’s using it for the better. Baz and he are a team. In a way that I never wanted to believe Davy and I weren’t. I wish I could hate Davy, I really do. But when I look over at him, I only see the man I fell in love with. The man who was going to change the world.
In a way, he did. He helped me have Simon Snow Salisbury; the miracle. (Though I s’pose it’s Simon Snow Grimm-Pitch now, innit?) And I think he changed the world, I really do. If not the whole world, then he changed at least three. Mine, Baz’s, and Davy’s. He was the light of my life. He still is. But now he’s Baz’s, too. And I know that Davy loved him - and still does - in whatever twisted way he can. The love was always there, just in a way only Davy could’ve expressed. He wanted Simon to be the greatest. Full. I think it was a success.
Simon, Simon. Our beautiful rosebud boy.
*Davy’s POV*
I should’ve been there for him. I should have told him the truth. I should’ve… I should’ve fixed him. I could have. I should have told him that I- I loved him. In the ways that counted and the ways that I could, I loved that boy. I should have told him.
But it’s too late now. I’ve run out of time. I ran out of time a long while ago.
*Natasha’s POV*
He called Malcolm dad. Malcolm called him son. A progression I thought I would never be here to see. But it was real, and quiet, and beautiful. After I left, I know how much Baz struggled with my loss. With accepting himself. I wish just once I could tell him that he’s everything I ever wanted him to be and more. A strong, confident, vampire, gay man. I couldn’t possibly be more proud.
As the old headmaster of Watford, I ingrained in his brain that his magic would be the strongest part of him. That it was something he could always rely on, and it was something he had to build his being around. But then I watched as he grew and met Simon. Then all of the sudden, I understood that there was something much more important I needed him to be centred around. Love. What I felt with Malcolm- I couldn’t imagine Baz without it. Sacrificing his magic for Simon Snow seems like such an arbitrary thing when the reverse would be him with his magic, but without the true greatest magic in the world. Plus, I see how happy Simon makes him. How much Simon loves him. (As I look down to the seats next to me, I see that three others can see it, as well. They’re all crying- even Davy, though he would never admit it.)
Light a match inside your heart and blow on the tinder. That’s what I had always told him. As he got older, I could tell he was holding back. That his tinder was only a glowing ember, waiting to be turned into an inferno. When he met Simon, it was almost as if he let himself start blowing on that ember. Softly and slowly- cautiously. But he was still trying. Then they finally got together, and his fire grew brighter and brighter every day. Now his fire is finally that inferno I knew it could be and more. And I have to let him share that fire with Simon, now. It’s both of theirs, it is. Connecting their hearts into one. I have to trust Baz to keep his fire bright and alight, while still managing to blow on Simon’s for him. Because that’s what love is, isn’t it? Giving part of yourself to the other. Inspiring each other when they can’t do it themselves. That’s my boy. Getting married, looking so dapper in his suit.
My little puff.
*Simon’s POV*
“I’ve never been good with words. Actually, I’m pretty shite at them if you’ve not noticed by now,” I laugh nervously, reciting my vows to Baz. Trying desperately to not focus on the hundred other people staring at us. He squeezes my hands, and I carry on. “But I’m going to try and get my point across about how much I love you as best as possible. Erm- I want to start by saying that… I like to look at you. You remember, that’s what I said when we were still figuring things out? And um, for the beginning of everything and then kinda the middle, well- I tried not to think about you. But uh, that’s never really worked. Because trying not to think about you… s’like trying not to think about an elephant that’s right on my chest.
“I, erm- I asked Penny if there were any signs other than the obvious ones that we were in love before I knew it. And she told me about when you cast On Love’s Light Wings to get to me. So I was thinking about how you were in love with me before I even really thought I knew what love was, ‘nd… I guess I’m trying to say that even though I took a little longer to catch up, ‘ve always loved you. I’ve loved you since we were in second year, and I was having a shite day, and I went back to our room while you were in the catacombs and there were fresh scones waiting for me on the bloody bed. Because I know that was you, you git, so don’t even try‘n deny it!
“I’ve loved you since, erm- since when you pushed me down that flight of stairs? Because yes you did, arsehole. But then every day after that for a week, you didn’t pick any fights with me, and I came back to Mummers to find all of my assignments done. I asked you about it, and you tried to fucking deny it, but I knew it was you. I knew it was you and I loved you so much for it, Baz. I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on that gorgeous hair and those wet pavement-grey eyes, and I promise to keep loving you just the same. I promise to, um. Be patient with you? Just like when you were patient with me when things were bad.
“I have loved you since before I knew what love was. And Baz, above all else, I promise to keep doing that thing with my chin you like s’much. I promise to give you belly rubs every day, and every morning when I wake up next to you, I will say ‘good morning, darling.’ You’ve shown me your love constantly since we were kids, and so I promise to you Baz, that I will spend the rest of my life catching up. I promise to love you unconditionally and without fear of the consequences. Also- I promise to always heat your blood the way you like it. Oh! And I promise to shag you right proper, even when we’re old as bloody Merlin.” (I said that last bit to make him blush.) For once in my life, the way I feel about Baz came out just the way I wanted it to. No punches included. (When’d I start crying? Bloody hell.)
*Baz’s POV*
Well fuck me. How do I top that? I suppose I just speak from my tiny, cold, undead heart. I start, trying desperately not to cry. “When’d you get so eloquent, Snow?” I smirk for extra affect. “I’d like to start by saying that I’ve always thought vows were silly. Because there are no words in the English language - hell, in any language - that could encompass my feelings for you. But I suppose I’ll give it a go. So- I never did believe I fate. I had always thought it was a false wonderment derived from people who just wanted to give a reason for pure coincidence. But then, I was eleven years old, and I’d lost my mother, and my soul, and the crucible gave me you. You were the centre of my universe; everything else spun around you. You saved me. From then on, I was a believer in fate. In destiny.
“You were the centre of my universe before you lost your magic, and you continued to be the centre of my universe after the fact. Especially after the fact. You were the sun, and I was crashing into you. I would wake up every day and think ‘this is going to end in flames.’ But Simon Snow, that did not stop me, nor would it have ever stopped me from constantly trying to get closer to you. For all my life, I thought I was not good enough. That I was a monster, unworthy of love and deserving of every bad thing that came my way. I thought the world had put you in my path to punish me for being the way I was- the way I am.
“But what I didn’t know was that the universe had different plans. Simon, you took my hand and you led me out of the darkness that was myself. You gave me a reason to live when I didn’t want to. When all I wanted was to simply let go, you would be following me down into the catacombs, confronting me. Trying to figure out my plot. There was one night in particular, you might recall. I had gone down to the catacombs to visit my mothers’ tomb. It was after a particularly nasty fight of ours. And I thought ‘this is it. I will never have the one thing I want. Why go on?’ I was going to give up the eternal fight called life that night. I was down there; I was ready to do it. I was doused in alcohol, ready to go up in flames like flash paper.
“But then I heard your eternally loud clambering - you never could be bloody quiet, could you? You came down, and you confronted me about what I was doing. You asked why I was down there, and at first I think you thought I was plotting. But there was this moment, that I’ll remember for the rest of my less miserable days. This moment when slight realization flashed across your face. I was smashed off my rocker, so you convinced me to go back to Mummers with you. You didn’t leave my side the whole night. You saved my life then, Simon Snow, and you have continued to save my life every night since then.
“You’re an utter disaster. You’re a constant mess, you blubber at ridiculous romcoms, you can’t learn to eat like a civilized person, and you’re more broken than I had ever given you credit before. And I love that. Because we match. Simon, I never thought that I deserved love. That I would be subject to the kind of fate that didn’t want to make me end myself. But you clambered into my life, and proved me so wrong, you did. You are my first love, my only love, and you will be my last. Every day from now, I will let you convince me that I am worthy of love. I will let you help me learn that I am not a monster. I will let you in, like I’ve let in no other before. And because we match, I can only promise to do the same thing. To pull you out of the dark as you did for me. To prove to you that you are deserving and that you are capable. To spend the rest of my life dedicated to keeping you in the light when things seem too dark. I can only hope that you’ll let me.”
Fiona hands me the rings, and I push. I feel the well inside me, emptying out. But even as I feel emptier and emptier, I still feel… full, somehow. I push until the last of my magic is gone, and both rings are filled with it. So that Simon will have a real piece of me, wherever he goes. So that I know, even if it’s gone, my magic is always with me. Simon is always with me. My magic goes out like a tide. The gates of Watford permanently fade out with my magic- almost metaphorically.
At one point of another, we all have to say goodbye. Whether it’s to something - or someone - you love, or to a special place. Maybe it’s to something that helped you grow- or maybe goodbye to your childhood. Your innocence. And sometimes, on rare occasions, you have to say goodbye to more than you would have ever thought you’d have to. Whether you do it for yourself, or someone else you love, life is full of tough decisions. And goodbyes. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
Goodbye magic.
Goodbye Watford.
Goodbye childhood.
Goodbye the largest part of my life. (Or so it was, for a long bloody while.)
Goodbye.
But life is also full of hellos; and happiness. Hello, hello, hello.
Hello future.
Hello love.
Hello Simon.
Hello to the next part of my life.
Hello.
I’m just about to kiss Simon, but then he kisses me.
*Fiona’s POV*
I knew boy-o would ask me to officiate the wedding; it was my bloody idea, anyway. Also he kind of owed me since I let him and his fellow stay at mine for a few months. When he and Simon kiss, all around the ceremony, the trees light on fire. (A magic fire that won’t do any damage or spread.) I asked Baz why, and he said it was some load of romantic tosh about recreating their first snog. I watch them kiss for a while as everyone cheers, and when they pull back, Simon rests his head on Baz’s.
“We’re married,” He whispers to him. (Being close to them has it’s eavesdropping advantages, it does.) Baz smirks, and he’s made of trouble.
“One kiss and you think the whole world is upside down,” Simon grins in the way Baz loves (I can just tell), and their eyes water. It must have some meaning I’m not bloody understanding.
“Two kisses.” Simon says, and then leans back into Baz. If Baz is happy, then I’m happy. Simon seems like a solid bloke, and I’ve never seen Baz so… carefree. Natasha would be so proud.
I’m so proud.
*Simon’s POV*
It took us so long to get here; too long. But now that we’re here, I can’t help but not have any regrets. Because everything that’s happened, the good, the bad, and the ugly- it’s led us here. Walking down the aisle, hand in hand. Married.
I walk down the aisle, not alone. With Baz. There’s always a fuss over weddings.
When we get to the end, I spin Baz back around to face me one more time. He quirks an eyebrow at me. (A very husband-like eyebrow, at that. Crowley, I could get used to that.) “What’re you doing, Snow?” He whispers. I pull him close by his hips and tilt up to kiss him again.
“Nothing much, love. Just… being in love. Starting my story, y’know? Loving you with all that I am. The usual.” I shrug, and he lets out a real laugh.
Baz grins, then leans down and kisses my neck. (I have a mole there; he treats it like a target.) “Go on then,” he says. “Carry on, Simon.”
I do.