Title: Wedding Day
Series: Sherlock!Wizardverse
Fandoms: BBC!Sherlock/Harry Potter
Pairings: Johnlock, Mystrade, Drarry
Author: Z-sama (dA user the-lady-harkness) and TWTL
Beta: none

WARNINGS: so much fluff it'll give you cavities!

MISC: We don't own Sherlock, nor do we own Harry Potter... Check out bonus content on the Sherlock!Wizardverse tumblr... sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com

John had spent a week imprisoned in the Potter-Malfoy manor. Secluded on the furthest edge of the east wing with a strict schedule of when he could leave his suite. He was allowed the use of one house elf, whom he really would have liked to not have around as the little buggers creeped him out quite a lot, and was allowed visitors.

The only visitor he was not allowed to have had been his own fiance.

Though, to be fair, Sherlock had been sequestered to a suite at the exact opposite of the manor. The furthest point of the west wing. He, too, was given a strict schedule of when he was allowed to leave the suite, and was allowed one house elf. Whom he had driven away within the first hour of his seclusion. He too, was allowed visitors, save for the man he was to marry.

Neither had liked the idea, but it was the only way they could placate Sherlock's father, who despite taking a liking to the thought of John the Muggle as his son-in-law, still tried to make things rather difficult for Sherlock out of spite.

However, the morning of the big day, John woke far earlier than normal to find his bed not-so-empty as it was when he'd gone to sleep.

"Sherlock?" he said blearily, rubbing at his eyes. The room was still dark, but that could have been the heavy window dressings.

"Obviously John. Certainly you haven't been entertaining anyone else in your bed this week," Sherlock replied, a hint of jealousy in his voice.

John ignored it, knowing it was only his lover's nature, or rather part of it, that made him so jealous. Instead he pushed himself up, then scooted up to sit back against the pillows and the headboard. "Light?"

"No. The house elf might see it and report to father."

John chuckled, shaking his head and opening an arm. Sherlock instantly, instinctively leaned into him without so much as a word about it. John had given up pointing these little odd behaviours out. His fiance would deny the necessity to show affection while showing affection. "Do you think we've got time before they come 'round to rouse us up?"

Sherlock hummed in thought, as if considering the idea before answering. "No," he replied at last. "You shout far too much."

The soldier smirked in the dark, feeling rather smug as he stroked Sherlock's side with his fingertips just beneath the old t-shirt he wore. "You've never complained before. Besides, you could always use one of those silencing charm things like you do at home that you don't think I know about."

"Yes. Well. We tend to break those."

"Do not."

"Mrs. Hudson would disagree. As would Mrs. Turner's married ones," Sherlock replied, but didn't put up much of a fight when John moved in for a kiss.

They lay there lazily in the darkness of John's room for nearly an hour, a tangle of limbs and sheets. Still fully clothed, much to John's disappointment. Then, just as silently and stealthily as Sherlock had arrived, he left. And none too soon, John thought, as the house elf assigned to keep watch over him for the week arrived with a very excited Lily.

"Rise and shine oh soon to be brother mine!" she exclaimed happily, far too bright and chipper for so early in the morning. John shielded his eyes as she spelled the lights on. The elf opened the drapes to reveal the first streaks of dawn. "Big day and all that! My goodness, we haven't had a wedding here since… Well, since ever! Mummy has really outdone himself this time! He's had to call on help from aunt Fleur with all the decor!" As she continued to prattle on to John about the day's itenerary, and the decor, and the rather long guest list (most of which were people neither Sherlock nor John had even met), she was tidying up the room. The elf was packing away John's non-essential belongings.

John himself was unwilling to climb out of bed until the problem Sherlock had left him with had gone back down. Which seemed to take quite a bit.

o0o

Sherlock had just climbed back into his bed and spelled the curtains of his bed closed when they were opened again and a rather annoyed looking Mycroft was standing over him.

"You do know that if father caught you sneaking in and out of John's room, he would have hexed your delicates off."

"Go away."

"Unfortunately for me, I am tasked with babysitting you until you're no longer our problem. Now get up and get dressed."

"Wake me when it's time to get married," Sherlock replied, turning his back to his older brother like a petulant child.

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he drew his wand, using it to pull back the blankets and levitate his brother from the bed. Sherlock, annoyed, began flailing about in the air above the bed.

"Put me down!"

Mycroft released the charm, allowing his younger brother to fall on the bed with a loud grunt as the air was pushed from his lungs. The politician kept himself from smiling. "Mother requests your presence in the ballroom. And you are to stay away from the east wing."

"I'll be there eventually-"

"You are to clean and then dress, and accompany me to the ballroom."

Sherlock huffed in annoyance. "What? Going to give me the obligatory becoming a man speech? I've already had rather excellent intercourse with John on numerous-"

"SEVERUS!" Mycroft interrupted him.

Sherlock blinked at him, wanting to smirk but schooling his features to remain blank. "What? You yourself have interrupted my coitus no less than seventeen times. What more evidence is needed to indicate that I am, in fact, a man?"

Mycroft rubbed a hand down his face with a groan. "Just take a shower and change. Mother expects you in forty-five minutes."

The detective finally allowed himself a small smile as his brother left. Indeed since he had discovered the wondrous world of sex, he now understood how awkwardly useful it had become when ridding oneself of annoying individuals. He would need to share his observation of the conversation uses of the topic with John later, if they had time.

Sherlock did not crawl back out of bed until ten minutes before he was due downstairs. Not bothering to shower, as he would likely need to bathe properly before being trussed up in his wedding attire, he changed from one pair of flanel trousers to another and turned his t-shirt right side out. Then, donned his dressing gown.

After all, Mycroft hadn't specified what he should wear just yet.