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Today was the day. Everything was in place, everyone ready. It seemed to have taken a lifetime, but there they were, standing side by side on the beach, the villa at their backs and the people they loved surrounding them, wishing them well.
The ceremony was set to begin in just under an hour, and there was still so much to do.
Checking his charms, he pasted a broad smile on his face, turned on his heel, and Apparated from the rocky outcropping to the other side of the cove, quickly slipping in amongst the crowd and making his way through the house. He had work to do.
-
"Come, come," Pansy said, ushering him into the room he'd set aside for this day's preparations. "Enough photographs, we have to finish getting you ready."
She, of course, was the epitome of perfection, as usual. Her long, elegant robes fell just right, her hair styled to compliment the long line of her throat, the sharp angles of her face. There was no one he'd rather have by his side as he married the man of his dreams.
"What more is there to do?" Draco asked, swiping the shiny green apple off the antique vanity and polishing it on his robes. "Hair, make up, robes. It's all done."
"Don't be ridiculous, darling, you've been out gallivanting around, taking photos and greeting guests. You need a touch up so that you look your very best for Potter."
Draco smiled—a dopey thing he'd deny for the rest of his life—at the thought of Harry standing at the end of the aisle, dashing in his green robes with vines climbing the arms and back, large jungle flowers in a bouquet of colour about his shins. Draco's were a deep blue, darker than the cove, and rippling like water, pouring to crash at his feet with the white of turbulent seas and rapid rivers.
Mother had insisted they have their robes custom made and had gone directly to the designer with their ideal robe ideas. The results were magical.
“Very well, touch me up, then,” Draco chuckled, bringing the apple to his lips. Then he paused, “You know, you could probably do with a touch up, too,” he said with a sly wink, and crossed his arms.
Pansy scoffed but glanced at the mirror. “I don’t know what you mean; I look perfect.”
“As always, my dear.” With a flourish, Draco swept his robes to one side and sat. “Alright, work your magic.”
While she primped and preened him, Draco tossed the apple lightly from hand to hand, the only outward sign of his own nervousness. He didn’t have anything to be nervous about, of course. He was marrying the man of his dreams, the love of his life, one of his best friends, and all of those things you get when you marry the right person. He knew, without a doubt, that this was exactly what he wanted, what Harry wanted. Any doubts he might have had were put easily to rest with the way Harry had broken every curse his alleged fan club had cast.
And that was what had him nervous, really. The last member of the group that had been making their lives miserable had escaped. The other members couldn’t name him, even under veritaserum. He was a mystery, a loose cannon that could go off at any time and ruin this perfect day.
Of course, Harry assured him that wouldn’t happen, but Draco still worried. Lost in thought, he lifted the apple to his mouth, only to have it batted away by Pansy’s busy hands.
“I’m working here, Draco. Merlin, can’t you wait?”
Draco sighed but let her get on with it. When she paused, he met her gaze in the mirror, smiled. She swiped a tear from her cheek, then returned to work with a sniff and the moment passed.
When she finished, she stood aside and let him look himself over. Turning this way and that he admired the glow of his skin, the way his eyes seemed to pop. He looked amazing, he thought, and Harry would think so, too.
-
In the foyer, Harry greeted guests as they arrived. He knew it wasn’t his job, but these were his friends and family. Every living Weasley was in attendance, as well as the Grangers, the Malfoys, Andromeda and Teddy, and countless friends from school and work. It was already shaping up to be a massive party, he thought as George chased Ginny through the door and out onto the beach, Blaise following at a more sedate pace. Many of his friends' children had been permitted to swim for a while before the ceremony, so little puddles of water turned the tile floors into a maze of landmines.
Aiming his wand at the nearest puddle, Harry vanished the water before turning to the latest arrival.
“Dennis!” Harry exclaimed, beaming at the quiet, nervous man. He hadn’t been the same since the war, since losing Colin, and Harry had made it a point to stay in touch over the years, to help in any way he could. “I’m so glad you could make it, mate. I hope your trip was uneventful.”
“I-it was okay,” Dennis stammered, a shy smile splitting his narrow face.
"Good," Harry said, clapping him on the back just as Theo entered the room. "If you'll excuse me, one of the porters can see you to your room."
His smile faltered, but Dennis nodded, stepping aside and heading toward the group of witches and wizards dressed in porter's uniforms. Harry watched him go, then turned back.
"Nott," he smiled, holding out a hand to shake. "What brings you here?"
"Oh, you know. Come to watch a good friend marry an idiot."
"Hey, I'm telling Draco you called him an idiot," Harry said, grinning as Theo closed the distance between them for a quick hug.
"Shame you weren't a Slytherin, Potter. We could have had some good times." Glancing around as if he'd never seen the place, he cocked a hip and grinned. "Where's the rest of the motley crew?"
"They're about. Why don't you go find someone who can tolerate you; Hermione’s summoning me," Harry teased as Hermione waved him over from the grand staircase. "See you, mate."
Theo shook his head but wandered away while Harry headed to Hermione’s side.
"Harry, what are you doing down here? Pansy's waiting for you!"
With that, she took his arm and dragged him up the stairs, leading him down the corridor to his dressing room. Which was across the corridor from Draco's. Hesitating outside, Harry shot Hermione a grin, holding up one finger to indicate he needed a moment.
-
The door opened and closed with a whisper of wood over carpet, and Draco sighed. "Pansy, I know it hasn't been half an hour yet," he drawled, leaning back in his chair and tossing his apple high in the air. He started when a hand shot out and caught it on its way back down.
Turning, he glared at Harry. "Potter, what are you doing here? It's bad luck to see each other before the wedding."
Smirking, Harry took a bite of the apple, then tossed it back to Draco. "That's a silly superstition and you kno— know—" he broke off, a sputtering cough wracking his shoulders and chest.
"Merlin, chew your food," Draco admonished him, but Harry didn't appear to hear him.
His coughing intensified, his face darkening with the effort, his hand reaching up to loosen his tie. Draco was on his feet in a moment, rushing to help, wand in hand. He cast a series of spells to clear his airway, calm a cough, then conjured a glass and cast an Aguamenti to fill it.
Still coughing, Harry grasped at the glass, fumbled it, and slumped forward as it crashed to the floor. Draco just barely caught him, but their combined weight dragged them both down until Draco knelt with Harry sprawled across his knees.
"Help!" he screamed, frantically tugging at Harry's robes. "Someone help! Harry? Harry, come on. Not today, this can't happen today!"
Hermione rushed into the room with Pansy on her heels. "What's— oh! I'll get a healer!" Hermione cried, then rushed back out.
"What happened?" Pansy demanded, hurrying to Draco's side.
"The apple, I don't know. I thought he was choking on it, but I cleared his throat. Pansy, what do we do?"
"Granger will get a healer, just stay calm."
"Calm? It's my wedding day, Pans! This wasn't supposed to happen!"
Everything happened quickly after that; a team of healers rushed onto the scene, trying everything they could to wake him before whisking Harry away to St. Mungo’s. Draco followed numbly behind, Hermione and Pansy flanking him, each holding tightly to one of his arms. He was thankful for their presence, sure he would fall over if not for their support.
As they walked out amid a roar of murmurs from the gathered guests, Pansy released him with a whispered promise to join him at St. Mungo’s as soon as possible. The last thing he heard as he passed through the door was her soothing voice informing the room at large of what had transpired. Somewhere within the walls of his summer home, a heart wrenching wail sounded and Draco chanced a glance back to see one of Harry’s friends, the Creevey boy, racing for the door, horror twisting his features.
“No!” he cried. “Harry! It was supposed to be you, Malfoy!”
Draco started at the vehemence of his words, the hatred in his eyes. “You,” he said, realisation dawning as Ron held Creevey back. “You did this.”
“No, Malfoy, you did this! You were supposed to eat the apple. I loved him! Why couldn’t you just take a hint and leave him alone?” Creevey railed against the arms holding him back, his tone a direct contrast to his frantic actions, as the nearest guests gasped at the revelation.
Draco pulled his arm from Hermione’s grasp, crossed the distance between himself and Creevey, and drew his wand, levelling it at the bastard’s nose. “You did this,” he said again, his voice hollow, his limbs numb.
“Draco,” Ron said, stilling him. “He isn’t worth it. Go with Harry, I’ll take care of Dennis.”
Hermione reappeared, gently guiding his shaking hand down, even as his eyes continued to burn into the pale green of Dennis Creevey’s. “You’re going to prison,” he snarled. “Was it worth killing someone you claim to love?”
Creevey snapped back, as if slapped. “He’s with Colin, now,” he said, an eerie calm coming over him. “He’s safe.”
Draco turned to leave, then, before he did something he couldn’t take back. Because Ron was right; he wasn’t worth it.
-
It wasn’t a great shock when Harry was pronounced dead on arrival. It was determined that he’d been poisoned, though none of the usual antidotes had worked, not even a bezoar. Draco wasn’t coping well. He was still numb. He hadn’t cried, hadn’t flinched, not in the week since his wedding day.
Now, as he sat at the Burrow, surrounded by sympathetic friends and family, he still didn’t know how to react. Perhaps this was the denial phase… he still couldn’t quite believe Harry was gone. Couldn’t believe one madman could do what Voldemort himself could not.
The garden at the Burrow was resplendent, everything in full bloom, the afternoon sunlight trickling through the leaves of the overhanging trees. There were folding chairs in neat lines starting at the house and marching forward to the end of the garden where, on a platform built just for the occasion, an ornate coffin of metal and glass lay. Around the coffin, the Weasley children and Hermione Granger stood like sentinels, guarding him, mourning him. Ron was the first to break ranks, falling forward to run a hand along the lid of the coffin, tears streaming down his reddened face.
Standing, Draco walked slowly to the coffin, facing each Weasley in turn, nodding his thanks and condolences in one, reticent motion. Several of them reached out, clasping his hand tightly, as if they could convey everything with the gesture. And, when he thought he could bear it, Draco looked down.
Harry lay in a bed of white satin, his arms folded over his waist, his hair as wild as ever. He seemed to be sleeping, the rosy blush still in his cheeks, the soft bow of his lips slightly parted, as if about to sigh.
Draco was wrong; he couldn’t bear it.
The tears he couldn’t shed began to fall, great sobs wracking his body as Draco’s fingers scrambled for purchase on the glass, pushing it away so he could lift a hand to Harry’s cheek. He could almost convince himself it was as warm as it looked.
A thought had been running through Draco’s mind for almost a week, one he didn’t dare to hope could be true. But now, as he stood over Harry, on the day he was meant to say goodbye, it was his last chance. The last moment and, if it worked… No, he couldn’t hope. Instead, he leaned down, laid his lips on Harry’s, and sighed.
Nothing happened. There was no swirl of light, no gasp of breath, no twitch of muscle. His last chance.
Sinking to his knees, he let the tears come, let people watch him fall apart, even let them comfort him. But, as Hermione fell to the ground at his side, there was a gasp, a collective intake of breath followed by utter silence broken only by the force of Draco’s grief.
“Draco?” a voice above him asked, and he froze. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
Draco’s head whipped back so quickly, pain bloomed in the base of his skull, but it didn’t matter. Harry was sitting up, leaning over the edge of his coffin to smile down at him. Hermione helped Draco to his feet as several Weasleys lifted Harry from the coffin and set him on the ground.
“You’re…” Draco began, unsure of what to say. “You’re alive… you’re— it worked, you’re here!”
“Where else would I be?” Harry asked, catching Draco when he threw himself forward. “How long?”
“A week,” Hermione answered.
Harry’s arms tightened around Draco, his eyes darkening. But his wrath could wait. For now, they would celebrate, for love won again.
-
"Have you seen the headline?" Draco asked, bursting through the door into Harry's dressing room.
"Draco!" Pansy cried. "Have you learned nothing?"
But Harry rose to meet him halfway through the room, taking the offered newspaper.
Creevey Sentencing—Potter-Malfoy Wedding Safe At Last
The article detailed the highlights of the case, Harry and Draco's testimony, that of the other members of Harry's "Official Fanclub," and the pensive memory of the interview with Creevey, himself.
"I still can't believe Dennis would do this. He was such a good kid." Sighing, Harry passed the paper back and quirked a grin at the disbelieving look on Draco's face. "No, I do believe it, it's just… It hurts, you know? The war is still hurting people, even now."
Draco smoothed his features out, offered a sympathetic smile instead. "Yes, but many are moving forward, starting over."
"Like us," Harry said with a nod. Leaning forward, he captured Draco's lips in a warm, slow kiss. "Okay, get out of here so I can finish getting ready."
Laughing, Draco left and Harry smiled, watching him go.
Later, when they stood side by side, reciting their vows, exchanging rings, it was never clearer: nothing could touch them, take what they had, what they were. And, when they kissed, the whole wizarding world cheered.