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Mariages !

Weddings!

He was getting married. It was a thought that plagued him often, more and more so as the date approached.

After vanquishing Voldemort, defeating him in a surrealistic duel, Harry Potter had fallen into a kind of daze. In less than a day he had learned he had to sacrifice himself, he had accepted death, against all odds he had survived, and he had killed a man.

Weirdly enough he had come out of it almost safe and sound. Just a few bruises, minor injuries. He had preferred staying in Madam Pomfrey’s expert care instead of going to St Mungo’s, and the good nurse had offered him a few days of rest, preventing anyone from entering her domain.

x

Despite being Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt had had to show his credentials to be able to see the hero of the Wizarding World.

Hearing that Draco Malfoy had been locked up in Azkaban with his parents, Harry had vehemently protested. He hadn’t forgotten all their quarrels, but he especially remembered Malfoy’s desperate look in their sixth year, and his inability to kill Dumbledore. Then there had been that time when Draco had refused to identify him, enabling him to flee and continue the mission Dumbledore had given him.

When Kingsley reminded him Draco was marked and that he needed to be punished, Harry bitter and appalled. He stressed that some people hadn’t had the freedom to choose a side, that they had merely managed to survive.

The brand new Minister hesitated. But he conceded when confronted with the stubbornness and resolute expression of one Harry Potter. He didn’t want to have to stand up to him publicly, and he didn’t doubt the young man would find a way to go to Azkaban to break his schoolmate out, just because he thought it fair.

After leaving Hogwarts, Shacklebolt travelled to Azkaban to find out what the young Malfoy was like. For a long while he observed the huddled up teenager, now void of any traces of arrogance. He noted how skinny he was – which evidently dated back to before his imprisonment – the bags under his eyes, the shaky hands. The lad – he suddenly remembered he was the same age as Harry and that they were still children – must have been struck by the guards, given the bruises that were starkly displayed on his pallid skin.

The sleeve of his shirt was torn and exposed what was left of the dark mark. Kingsley noticed with a pang that the ghastly tattoo, while now almost invisible, had been scratched until it bled, leaving bloody lines on his pale forearm.

The Minister sighed, knowing Harry was right. This kid didn’t seem dangerous, quite the opposite in fact. He was a victim of Voldemort too… Recognising the need, he approached the barely-of-age teenager, ready to give him a second chance.

x

After his conversation with Harry, Shacklebolt had had a lot to think about; the opposite was also true. The young man realised that nothing would really change. The side of the Light had gained the upper hand and would use this to get rid of anyone who had sided with the Dark…

This made him bitter. The naïve and cheerful boy he had been had become quiet and gloomy, often getting lost in thought, slipping into an treacherous depression. It was in that state that the Weasleys found him. Molly smothered him with attention, treating him like her own son, and she didn’t give him a choice – she dragged him to the Burrow. In her opinion he needed to put some meat back on his bones, and she intended to pamper him.

Usually Harry liked staying at the Weasleys. But it was calm he needed to be able to find himself again. Not a loud household, one of constant comings and goings. There was no privacy, no respite. Every time Harry sat down somewhere, gazing at nothing, a redhead inevitably came to speak to him.

What’s more, Ginny possessively clung to him, obviously happy to have him all to herself. He didn’t have the courage to push her away, or even just have a conversation about their feelings and their relationship.

To be honest, Harry wasn’t sure he even loved Ginny. He couldn’t imagine his life with her in it that way and when she spoke of children and a house, he felt completely disconnected. Entirely estranged from these plans even though they concerned him.

He should probably have told her, should have talked to her about it. Ginny wasn’t stupid, she would have given him some space and time. But he didn’t dare. The mere idea of hurting the only girl of the Weasley siblings terrorised him, and he guessed he would end up getting used to it all.

While they’d only exchanged a few chaste kisses – initiated by Ginny, never by him – Harry found himself betrothed in spite of himself. Ginny had spoken of the future, Molly had agreed with Harry as witness – and the same evening at dinner, Arthur congratulated him for their betrothal. Harry hadn’t protested, he’d stayed silent, eyes on his dinner plate. Once again, his destiny had been decided without his input and he felt too tired to fight it or attempt to give his opinion on it all.

He silently watched it all unfold, as if he was living in a weird dream. Molly took him to a jeweller to help him choose a ring. He didn’t protest and took her advice. If he’d had to choose, he certainly wouldn’t have picked that intricately crafted ring which in his opinion was much too ornate. However… Molly seemed so sure, so he just paid without a word. The clerk looked surprised but didn’t comment on it.

The date was decided so that the wedding could happen as quickly as possible. The only time he said something was when Ginny suggested they share the same room. He categorically refused without explaining why. Ginny tried to convince him, but Molly found it adorable that he wished to respect his future wife and parents like that. She added that the walls of the house weren’t compatible with a young couple’s intimacy and the conversation ended.

x

When Harry entered Madam Malkin’s shop – alone, for once – he expected a gruelling fitting session. Molly had assured him she had arranged everything and that the dear seamstress only had to verify the fit. Once again Harry hadn’t protested, resigned to it all.

When he had to stand on a stool to be measured, he had an awful impression of déjà-vu. He saw his tiny self discovering the magical world for the very first time. Harry closed his eyes, let the memory engulf him, a small nostalgic smile pulling at his lips. Once upon a time everything had seemed so bright – so promising.

When he opened his eyes he startled so bad he almost fell off. Just in front of him, eyes wide, was Draco Malfoy.

They stared silently at each other for a long while, looking for changes in the other. Harry noted that Draco had lost weight. His hair, still just as light-coloured, had grown out a bit and it suited him, especially since he didn’t use any hair gel to plaster it to his scalp anymore. His eyes had darkened some, reminding Harry of Sirius’ eyes. The eyes of the Blacks. He was dressed casually, a far cry from the stylish outfits he’d liked to wear at Hogwarts before the war. The young man looked older and his mouth had a bitter slant to it.

Uncertain, the ex-Slytherin nodded tentatively, not taking his eyes off him. “Potter.”

Harry smiled at him, just as hesitant. “Malfoy.”

Drago swallowed and slowly raised a hand, extending it, looking away so he didn’t have to be subjected to that green gaze. This time, Harry didn’t hesitate. There were too many memories between them, there was that day at Malfoy Manor, there was the fiendfyre. He shook the waiting hand, holding it a bit too long, shivering slightly at the heat of Draco’s palm.

If the seamstress was surprised to see them like this, she didn’t show it. She just interrupted them by inviting Draco, a bit curtly, to settle next to Harry. Side by side like this they exchanged a knowing glance and shared a smile.

“In need of new clothes, Malfoy?”

Draco grimaced and shrugged. He muttered with a slightly annoyed tone, “My mother is sorting out my wedding. What about you, Potter?”

Harry’s eyes widened briefly, a bit disturbed that Draco was here for his wedding too. Then he though of the reason for his own visit and sighed. “I’m also getting married.”

Harry didn’t have time to say more since Madam Malkin came back and made him try on a heavy wizarding robe of crimson velvet adorned with complex embroidery. Harry blinked, stunned, but stayed silent. Draco groaned, visibly hesitating between laughing and screaming.

“You didn’t choose this horror, surely?”

The seamstress sent him a glare, ready to put him back in his place, but something loosened inside Harry’s mind and he let a hysterical laugh escape. “I haven’t chosen anything. I— This is awful.”

His reaction amused Draco as well, and Harry shouldered off the robes as quickly as he could. He shoved it into the seamstress’ arms, not minding her shocked face, and told her they’d come back later.

Without waiting for a response, he took Draco’s wrist and dragged him out with him.

x

Draco didn’t protest, wilfully following Harry. The looks they received in Diagon Alley were getting a bit too heavy, so Harry took them to the muggle world, to a discreet pub that wasn’t much to look at. They ordered a beer and sat down at the back, in the most isolated and darkened corner. Then, once again, they stared at each other for a long while.

Harry murmured a bit sheepishly, “So, you’re getting married? I didn’t know you had… someone.”

Draco shrugged, not taking his eyes away from him. “I don’t. It’s my mother who organised everything, she didn’t really give me a choice. Given my… past, I can’t really hope for anything better. And you? The weasel girl?”

Harry bit his lip, frowning. He nodded and shrugged. “Ginny— Well, she’s obviously in a hurry to get married.”

Draco seemed shocked. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want to get married?” Harry stayed silent for so long Draco thought he’d said too much and that Harry wouldn’t answer.

Harry finally shrugged, a resigned look on his face. “It’s a bit late to think about that, no?” A despondent chuckled escaped the young man and he took a sip from his glass. Disturbed, Draco passed a hand over his face. Harry, however, quickly pulled him back to the present. “And you? Do you want to?”

Draco blinked and looked down, a peculiar expression on his face. He then shrugged. “I don’t really have any… right to complain. I miraculously managed to get out of Azkaban with my mother and— She managed to sign a contract with the Greengrass’. They’re probably the only ones so well-accepting of my… past. Though I guess what’s left of the Malfoy fortune is as good a motivation as any.”

In a shocked tone Harry murmured, “Bullshit! Why are you inflicting this upon yourself, Malfoy?”

The ex-Slytherin straightened, offended. “What else are you suggesting I do, Potter? My mother— She’s all I have left. I can’t refuse her. If she disowns me, I have nothing left. Who would be interested in a fallen Malfoy?”

Harry’s eyes shone with an almost supernatural glint as he leaned towards his year-mate with clenched fists. “But you don’t even love her! You’re just going to— Marry a girl you don’t care about? It’s for life, Malfoy!”

Draco emptied the rest of this pint to hide his uncertainty. Instead of feeling sorry for himself, he concentrated on his annoyance. Potter, giving him advice! He hissed, his words full of venom. “Because what, you love your little weasel? Do you even realise it’s her family you are trying get wed to? But once the ceremony is done, it’s her you’ll have to live with and make children with!”

They stared at each other for a long time. Then Draco nodded as if making a decision. “Very well, Potter. You’re the brave Gryffindor, not me. So… If you call off that wedding that you don’t really want, I’ll do the same. You have until the ceremony to decide. If you seek me out, I won’t say a thing, I’ll simply follow you.”

Harry looked shocked and shook his head. “I can’t— You don’t understand! It isn’t—”

Draco stood up and threw some muggle coins on the table to pay for his beverage. Then he leaned over towards his forever-rival with an odd bout of heartache. He didn’t doubt this would be the last time they saw each other.

“Those are my terms, Potter. You’ve yourself admitted that you don’t really love her, not enough to marry her anyway. If you were to… put an end to this charade, I’ll refuse my union with the Greengrass girl.”

“You don’t even know her name?” Harry whispered, looking a bit queasy.

Draco shrugged and smirked, even though his eyes spelled sorrow. “What for? I’ll learn it soon enough.”

Then he left, calmly, without looking back. Harry immediately ordered another drink and gulped it down. His thoughts were swirling in his head, not giving him a moment’s respite, so he slowly made his way back to Grimmauld Place hoping to be able to think more comfortably there.

He didn’t manage to ponder what he wanted to do in peace, in the end. First, he got pissed after finding a couple of bottles of Firewhisky in a kitchen cupboard. Then, when he finally sagged into an armchair, mind fuzzy with drink, Molly turned up with Ginny in tow. He got quite the earful and was forcibly dragged back to the Burrow.

Harry didn’t protest. He let himself be dragged, resigned to his fate.

x

Draco was in his childhood room in Malfoy Manor. While these chambers used to be his refuge, the war had changed many things and he didn’t feel the peacefulness he used to gain from it when he was younger.

Standing in front of a full-length mirror he scrutinised himself, eyebrows furrowed. He wore a black silk embroidered wizarding robe. His mother had wanted him to get married wearing white, but he had refused. White was much too merry a colour for a forced marriage, and this was his way of resisting.

He would have loved to complain about his attire, but the robe was truly magnificent. The embroidery was subtle, forming constellations, to remind of the Blacks’ tradition of naming children after stars. He traced the dragon constellation on his right sleeve, then with trembling fingers brushed his left sleeve, which outlined the lion constellation.

He thought of Potter and wondered if he had married the redhead in the end. Nothing of the sort had appeared in the news, but the dark-haired man had always hated to expose his private life to the public. Even though he was the Saviour of Wizardingkind, he would have found a way to keep it secret. Secret from all but friends and family.

As for Draco… His mother had sent a communiqué to the Daily Prophet. Nothing as extravagant as would have been done pre-war, but noticeable enough to remind everyone that the Malfoys, despite their disgrace, were still rich and powerful.

For a moment Draco closed his eyes as wave of nausea hit him, wondering if he would be able to put an end to this farce. To tell his mother that he refused a union without love and wanted to turn his back on decades of family tradition.

From early on, his father had taught him that marriage was nothing more than a contract, a way to gain more wealth and make the family shine in society. Except, he didn’t think that was necessary anymore. The Malfoys would never be as powerful as they once were, and generations would pass before they were deemed respectable again. Besides, if he had children he intended to let them make their own choices. His children would not have to sacrifice themselves for their parents’ sake and wouldn’t have to marry anyone family alone.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the door opened, and watched his mother come in. She smiled warmly at him but he ignored her. He resented her too much to pretend everything was all right. Since the end of the war, ever since Minister Shacklebolt had pulled him out of Azkaban, he hadn’t managed to forgive her. His father was still in prison and she was all he had left, but… Something in their relationship had shattered.

“My boy, you look splendid.”

His only response was an indistinct grunt and she put a hand on his shoulder, disregarding his dark mood. Drago ignored her, momentarily hating her for pretending nothing had changed. Her smile was calm and collected.

“Your father would be proud.”

He pulled away brusquely, resisting the temptation to rip of the lavish robes he was wearing. Until now he had passively gone along with the wedding preparations, but he wasn’t certain now that he could go through with it. He closed his eyes, remembering the conversation with Potter he’d had in that muggle bar, and the stupid bet he had made…

It took him a few seconds to pull himself together and calm down. Refusing to meet his mother’s eyes, he muttered sharply, “I’ll be ready soon, Mother.” Narcissa hesitated before sighing and leaving the room. Eyes burning with unshed tears, Draco looked around.

This was the last time he would be in this room. He was going to marry Astoria Greengrass – he’d finally learned her name – and the young couple would move into a much smaller manor, near the bride’s familial lands. Draco would then work with his father-in-law who would teach him how to do business, and he would have a long, boring life.

Feeling like he had the whole weight of the world on his shoulders, he left the room and gently closed the door. Then he trudged down the deserted corridor feeling like a convict walking towards the noose.

The wedding would happen in the Manor’s gardens. He hadn’t even set foot outside and he could already hear the buzzing conversations. The mere idea of being displayed in front of that crowd put a lump in his throat. They all knew who he was and worse, knew what he had done. They hadn’t come to congratulate or support him, they were only here to scrutinise him and find the marks of his disgrace on his skin.

He suppressed a wry chuckle when he entertained the idea of having ordered a short-sleeved robe, so that their could satisfy their morbid curiosity. That was what they had really come to see, after all. The Death Eater who hadn’t had a choice… and who still didn’t have one.

Outside, music started, and he knew it was time for him to make an appearance. Then, Astoria would arrive and they would be joined in wedlock. He looked down at his left sleeve one last time, as if to draw courage from the stars of the Lion, then pushed the door open, face void of emotion.

He didn’t spare a single smile or single gesture towards those who had come. He simply walked to the small dais as if he was all alone, throwing a disdainful look at the decorations. It was so garish it made him nauseous, but it was probably a little late to make his opinion known.

He held his head high, scanning the crowd – as if he hoped to find a pair of impossibly green eyes – and waited calmly, proudly. He heard the murmurs, noticed the camera flashes. He could guess well enough the comments about his haughty attitude despite being a ex-convict— But for once, he couldn’t care less about the opinion of others.

The crowd livened up when Astoria arrived, and he needed all his concentration not to sneer in disappointment. He had hoped she would have a lick of sense and end up refusing this nonsensical marriage… Clearly, Astoria had put her hopes in his wealth, and he swore to himself she would only have access to the bare minimum. If he had to squander his inheritance to stop her from enjoying it, he would do so without hesitation. It was a petty reaction on his part, but the weight that compressed his chest reminded him he didn’t have a choice.

Astoria stumbled as she joined him, and he didn’t hold out a hand, letting her manage by herself. He heard the disapproving whispers and didn’t care, now impatiently waiting for this charade to end.

When the music ceased, Draco was ready.

x

Once back at the Burrow, Harry was treated to a proper abasement. In front of the whole Weasley family, Molly lamented his irresponsible conduct. Apparently, Madam Malkin had sent a missive that a new appointment was needed to try out the robes. Internally, Harry thanked her for not exposing the reasons for his disappearance.

Molly and Ginny had apparently gone looking for him immediately, scouring Diagon Alley until they finally thought of Grimmauld Place and found him there highly inebriated. The incident made Ron chuckle, thinking Harry had used this golden opportunity to break the rules. He warmly clapped Harry on the back, telling him in low tones that he should have invited him along. Percy – now redeemed – took it upon himself to lecture him, explaining the ravages of alcohol and the scourge that drunk wizards were for the Ministry when they nearly revealed magic to muggles.

Arthur stayed silent, carefully observing him, letting Molly take the reins as always. As for George, he stayed mute also, as always lost in his own little world ever since he’d lost Fred.

Harry felt like he was being choked, but he stayed silent. He let them treat him like he was just a child, and was glad Ginny’s anger gave him a change to breathe a little. Usually she would have jumped him at the first opportunity, trying to kiss him. He ate in silence, not even listening to Molly’s harangue, then went up to the room he shared with Ron to get some sleep.

He was loathe to admit it, but Drago Malfoy had given him food for thought. The closer Harry got to his wedding day, the more nightmares plagued his sleep. He sported impressive bags under his eyes, and while Ron sent him worried looks, Molly patted him on the shoulder and assured him there was no need to worry and that his wedding would be perfect.

He had obediently returned to Madam Malkin’s and had refused the red velvet robe, choosing a more sedate outfit that suited his character better. Even though he was dying to do so, he didn’t ask if Draco Malfoy had come by… He didn’t doubt his childhood rival was in the same position as he was.

When he had come back home to the Burrow, Molly had wrinkled her nose, obviously disappointed in his choice of robes for the ceremony, and stomped off to the kitchen. Ginny had been less sedate, accusing him of choosing a funeral outfit for her wedding before bursting into tears. Ron had rolled his eyes and muttered this wedding was making his sister go bonkers. Harry hadn’t commented, indifferent to it all.

The eve of the wedding, Harry felt like he wouldn’t survive the night. His heart was running wild with the realisation that he was trapped. He silently slipped into the garden, looking up to stare at the stars, trying to calm down. After all, he knew the Weasleys since his first days in the Wizarding World. Ginny was a nice girl, even if a bit bossy sometimes… He probably would end up loving her for real. And besides, he would often see Ron, or George.

A little voice reminded him Ginny wanted children, and fast. His breath stuck to his throat, horrified. He had wholeheartedly wished for a family, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to have a baby. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to touch Ginny that way, seeing her more like a little sister than the woman he would share his life with. His whole life.

He nearly chocked when a hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump. George smiled at him sadly. “Harry. Are you okay?”

He instantly stood straighter, trying to hide his unease as best he could. Then he shrugged and muttered with a downturned gaze, “Just a bit… stressed out.”

George calmly came to stand next to him. Then, without looking at Harry, he murmured, “Just before his wedding Bill was stressed out. He did the same, he came to the garden. With Fred— with— Well, we joined him and we talked well into the night.”

Harry stayed silent, waiting for the rest. George paused, then continued, “Bill was stressed out. Nervous. But impatient and happy. You… You’re dying inside, Harry. Believe me, I know what that looks like. I see the same look every time I see us— See me in a mirror.”

A tear rolled down Harry’s cheek. “I wish I could have saved him.”

George laughed sadly. “Idiot. Fred would be angry if he heard you say that. He— We both knew the risks… It’s just that we never thought we’d be separated.”

Finally displaying his heart to someone Harry whispered, “I should have died. I had to— I had to let him kill me. There was this thing inside me, this piece of soul that he’d marked me with. I should be happy I won, but… I’m just disappointed that I survived again.”

George sighed. “I’ve wanted to join Fred. More than once. And every single time, I just needed to see my face in the mirror to imagine what he would say. He would want me to live for the both of us, for me to… realise our dreams. It’s more complicated. I miss him, it’s like I’ve been cut in half. We’d never been separate before, you know.”

A tear ran down George’s cheek and Harry stayed silent, letting him speak. Eventually, the surviving twin continued. “I found a reason to live. He’s here, with me, all the time. If— If I give up, it would be like killing him a second time. As if… I turned my back on him.”

Harry awkwardly drew George into his arms, horrified to realise how much he had suffered alone. George fondly dishevelled him, smiling in spite of the tears. “Fred would yell at me if I abandoned you, you know, and he would be right.”

Harry started and blinked, incredulous. “What do you mean?”

George gave him a fond smile. “Harry… You are the one who made our dream come true. More than anyone else… You helped us, encouraged us. You believed in us. No matter what, it’s an incredible gift you gave us.”

“But I just—”

George gently cut him off. “No matter what, it was amazing what you did.”

Feeling awkward, Harry sighed. “You didn’t abandon me.”

“Harry. You aren’t happy. You aren’t stressed out by your wedding, you’re miserable.”

Harry flushed, ashamed to have been found out. However, George didn’t intend to criticise him. “The day you got drunk, what happened?”

Harry closed his eyes and started to talk, barely above a whisper. This was George, and he completely trusted him. So he told him about his encounter with Malfoy, their friendly interaction, their conversation. He told him how they both admitted not truly wanting to marry their respective brides, and told him about Malfoy’s ultimatum.

A mocking laugh escaped George. “He’s a clever one, that snake… What are you going to do?”

Harry sighed. “He won’t change his mind. What do you want me to do? I’m not… going to abandon Ginny to help him, your family wouldn’t forgive me.”

George sobered immediately. “Is disappointing my family your only reason, Harry? Did you accept to get married only because of that? I never actually heard you say it so be honest with me, please. Do you really want to marry Ginny and spend your life with her?”

Harry stayed silent. He couldn’t reassure him that he wanted this marriage and not revealing his true feelings. How could he tell George that he didn’t love his little sister?

The absence of reply seemed enough because the young man groaned, “Idiot.” Harry stiffened, but George didn’t let him escape this. “Harry. No one will blame you if you don’t marry Ginny. Well… Ginny will be furious, and so will Mum because she organised it all, but… They’ll understand! You can’t just sacrifice yourself to please us!”

“But it’s—”

“You know what? You’re going to go to Grimmauld Place or a hotel or something, and you’re going to properly sit down and have a think. If you really love Ginny and this is what you want, you’ll come back and get married. If you even have the slightest doubt, the slightest hesitation, stay where you are and let me explain it to them.”

Without thinking Harry shrugged and muttered, “It’s too late. Malfoy must be married by now.”

George sniggered. “You still have time to save your little snake, his wedding is tomorrow too. It was in the Prophet.”

Harry flushed a bit and tried to argue, but George insisted, awfully serious. “This war… Many died, Harry. Those who gave their lives did it for a better tomorrow. You’re alive and you’ve sorely won the right to be happy.”

A tear rolled down Harry’s cheek, then a second one. Noticing that he was on the verge of a breakdown, George embraced him. “Go to Grimmauld. I’ll take care of sending your things over.”

Harry held onto him tightly and thanked him with hoarsely. He stepped away, ready to apparate, but George stopped him with a large grin. “Oh, I can’t wait to read the news about the scandal you’ll cause when you go save that poor lost little snake…”

Harry blushed furiously but didn’t utter a word, merely apparating away instead.

George shook his head with a smile, imagining how Fred would laugh at this… Then, turning around with a half-smile he said quietly, “Were you there long?”

His mother stepped out of the shadows, cheeks drenched in tears. George took her in his arms and Molly sniffled, seemingly lost. “I thought I was helping him. I— I didn’t see it at all!”

“Mum… Harry is good at— At pleasing others. He’s incapable of selfishness and he wanted to please you.”

“I should have seen he wasn’t well! But I thought he’d be less sad after marrying Ginny. He never complained…”

George laughed humourlessly. “Mum. When he didn’t want to share her room, you should have got the hint. No healthy teenager would refuse the chance to fondle the girl he loves…”

Molly lightly cuffed him on the head, grumbling, though she smiled a little through her tears. Then she sighed. “All right. I’ll cancel it. Even if Harry comes back, I want him to choose who he loves this time.”

George hugged his mother, relieved.

x

When Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place, he looked around, a bit lost. It was so quiet he barely dared move. He closed his eyes and felt his muscles unwind as the calmness seeped in. George had told him to have a think, but he realised his decision was already made.

He went up to Sirius’ room to get a few hours rest, emotionally drained. He expected to find sleep hard to find, but when his suitcase appeared in the lounge he was already fast asleep.

The next morning, Harry woke up revived. For the first time since the war, he had taken a decision and had plan of action. He stood in the shower’s spray for a long time, enjoying the searing heat of the water. He took an inordinate amount of time tidying his unruly hair. After all, he was going to a wedding, so he needed to look the part.

He put on his new black formal robes, a very simple design, examining his likeness in the mirror intently. There would probably be photos taken and he didn’t want to some day be criticised for his outfit.

Finally deciding he was ready, he closed his eyes to gather his courage. He knew his life was about to change dramatically, and for a brief moment he hesitated. His Gryffindor traits resurfaced, however, and he walked out of Grimmauld Place to apparate. It was after all impolite to be late for a wedding.

x

For a second Harry thought he was late after all.

Then, silence fell and all eyes turned to him. Harry forced himself to stay calm, to not squirm and grimace at the attention. Head held high, trying to keep his face emotionless, Harry slowly walked forward. Only his eyes showed how uncertain he was and how uneasy he felt, being so exposed.

Even though he hated being the centre of attention, Harry was particularly pleased to see the shock on the faces around him while he showed once again how very unpredictable he was.

x

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, as if to gather his courage. He then stood up straighter, determined, not sparing a single glance at his bride beside him. Darling Astoria was probably furious, but he wasn’t going to make things easy for her. He didn’t love her, didn’t even like her… She would quickly realise he wasn’t the kind of man that would fold.

The very unnatural silence around him, however, made him turn around with a frown on his face. He refrained from pinching himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. His eyes widened when he understood what was happening.

Facing each other, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy stared at each other without a word, unbothered by the wizards around them. Astoria started to protest loudly, but Draco didn’t pay her any attention. That was enough to spur Harry into action. He held his hand out to Draco, not saying anything, giving him the choice.

Draco didn’t have a single ounce of doubt. Harry Potter had come for him. He made to move in his direction, but Astoria tried to stop him, a furious rictus distorting her features. He pushed her away without thinking, without even glancing her way, and joined the Saviour of the Wizarding World. His saviour.

He took the outstretched hand, nearly shivering at the contact. He noticed the mischievous green gaze and instantly knew what Harry was going to do. The next moment they had apparated, escaping the wedding, leaving only chaos behind at Malfoy Manor.

x

Upon arrival Draco stopped Harry from falling, amused at his clumsiness despite his power. Then, still not saying a thing, he looked around, somewhat shocked.

They were in a cemetery. Draco held in a sarcastic remark when he saw the closest tombstone, though. James and Lily Potter. Lifting a surprised eyebrow, he looked at Harry who seemed embarrassed, blushing and biting his lip.

“I didn’t really know where to go… I wanted— Well… To know—”

Draco stopped him with a light snigger that sounded almost fond. “I won’t go for the throat, Potter. Wherever you want to go, I’ll follow. I don’t… have anywhere else to go.” He quickly added with a bit of a pained face, “Though if you could avoid the weasel household, I’d be grateful.”

Harry chuckled, sounding a bit nervous, but his eyes sparkled. He shrugged. “I’m not sure I’d be welcome myself. Actually, I have no idea where to go either and I thought maybe we could… travel?”

Draco shrugged with a small smile. “Okay.”

They shared a smile and Harry seemed to instantly relax. He turned to look at his parents’ grave, not uttering a single word. Feeling uneasy, Draco spoke up. “Where do you want to go? Do you want to stay in the UK or go abroad?”

Harry bit his lip before breathing out, a bit uncertain. “Maybe abroad? At least they don’t know us in other countries. What do you think?” Seeing the surprise on Draco’s face Harry chuckled, eyes full of humour. “If you’re coming with me, you’re allowed to have your say. You can accept or refuse. You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to.”

Draco rolled his eyes and sniggered. “Knowing your propensity for getting yourself in danger, I’d rather stay with you to make sure you don’t get into trouble.”

They reached out to each other and tangled their fingers. Harry closed his eyes and apparated them to the wizarding area of London City Airport. They had a bit of an argument given their many possible destinations, and ended up settling for the United States. The country was large enough for them to disappear and explore new landscapes. No one would look for them on another continent, after all.

Just before getting on the plane, Harry asked the question that had been on his tongue for a while. “If I hadn’t come… Would you really have married her?”

Draco’s head dropped, a bit ill-at-ease. Then he grimaced. “Yes. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have had a reason to turn my back on my family… Or what’s left of it.”

Harry’s eyes glistened and he nodded. “Then I’m glad I showed up.”

Their eyes caught each other and stayed there for a long time, until Harry pinked up and looked away. However, they hadn’t let go of their hands and they walked up to the passenger check-in together. One confundus charm later, and they had first class tickets for the first plane headed to the US.

They were leaving without any luggage, decided to use this opportunity for a fresh start. They had trouble looking away from each other, but this didn’t really bother Harry. After all, Draco Malfoy had been a staple of his existence since he was eleven. He was the first wizard his age he had met, his first rival, the one who had watched him all these years. He was the one he hadn’t managed to protect, the one he had almost killed, and the one he had finally saved. It was logical that it would be with him that Harry would enter a new chapter of his life with.

When the plane rumbled forward, their hands found each other again and held on tight. It was after all the first time they took the plane, and the other’s presence was reassuring.

Watching England slowly disappear, Harry knew he would come back one day, to make peace with his past at the very least. And he knew he wouldn’t be alone, Draco would be at his side. He didn’t know what their relationship would be in the future, and he was eager to find out. Especially since with Ginny his heartbeat had never pounded the way it did now. He had never felt so alive and so at peace.

Draco wouldn’t go easy on him. He would back Harry into corners, he would demand constant compromises. The same way Harry would. Smiling, Harry sighed and let his head rest gently on Draco’s shoulder. His travel companion grumbled and cursed, complaining about the too long hair but stopping him from sitting back up, forcing him to lie down more comfortably, almost resting in his arms.

Dozing off, Harry thought Draco was a perfect match for him. Without these aborted weddings, he would probably never have known this… So he made a note in the back of his mind, reminding himself to send a postcard to George to thank him for his valuable help.