House: Ravenclaw
Category: Themed
Prompt: Birth
Word Count: 2126

Written for the Houses Competition

Jealousy

When Draco thought about it, it was always going to happen. He scoffed at the newspaper in his hand, before tossing it aside carelessly. It was no use - the headline was burned into his mind. 'Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Engaged!' The newspaper had screamed at him eagerly, showing Draco a picture of Potter wrapping an arm around the Weaslette, leaning in and - he blanched - kissing her.

He could do so much better, Draco thought to himself, burying his head in his arms. Trust Potter to marry a Weasley. It was bad enough befriending the red-headed clan, but marrying one of them?

Just then, a snowy white owl flew through his kitchen window, almost knocking over a potted plant on the sill. The envelope looked expensive, so Draco prised open the gold wax seal carefully.

Written in painfully neat writing, the letter said:

Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley

Request your presence at the ceremony and celebrations of their marriage.

Thursday the eighteenth of November 11: am, 1999

The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole

Of course, Potter was marrying someone with next to perfect handwriting and an expensive taste in envelopes, Draco thought bitterly. Personally, he preferred Potter's horrendous chicken scrawl.

He didn't question why he was invited - Potter was probably inviting everyone from the office, and it would be stupid to hope he was being asked to attend for more… personal reasons.

It had been in their sixth year at Hogwarts. They had been becoming closer and closer as friends, only meeting in secret in the Room of Requirement. Perhaps it had been that secret friendship, one that Draco valued above all his other ones, that caused him to slowly fall for the darker haired boy. Potter, it turned out, had felt the same way.

It was tragic really, Draco mused. Two star-crossed lovers on opposite sides of the war.

It had all changed when Potter left to defeat the Dark Lord in his seventh year, like the noble hero he was and saved the day. When he returned, he started dating the Weaslette and never looked at Draco the same way again.

Maybe it was stupid to believe they could just pick up where they left off.

At first, it hurt every time he saw Potter with her. He would avoid them at all costs, because even just looking at him reminded him of what they used to have. Now that he looked back on it, it was rather immature. He couldn't help it - he hated to admit it, but it had hurt. Although Potter had broken it off before he left, it was Draco's mistake to assume he'd want to get back together after the war.

It was fine though. Draco had been over him for at least a year - but an invitation to Potter's wedding was enough to hurl at him an onslaught of painful memories.

The fireplace flared green for a moment, before Blaise stepped out, clutching the Daily Prophet tightly in one hand.

"Don't get mud on my carpet," Draco fussed, already worrying about the reason Blaise had come.

"You're so pernickety." Blaise smiled, shoving him jokingly. His expression grew more concerned, and he looked at Draco worriedly. "Are you okay?" He held up the newspaper. "I take it you've seen the news."

Draco nodded. "It's fine, Blaise. I'm over him, really." He had felt wrong in any other relationship since, but that meant nothing. Maybe the whole romance thing just… wasn't for him.

Blaise looked over sceptically. "Are you sure? I mean, did he even invite you?"

Draco held up the envelope triumphantly. "See, Potter and I are friends now. "

Blaise smirked and held up an envelope of his own. "Dray, everyone in our office got an invitation. I mean, did he invite you personally? Did you even know about the wedding until you saw the Daily Prophet?"

Draco swallowed. "Well, no, but I'm sure Potter was planning to tell me. He was probably just a little…" He trailed off. "Busy."

Blaise shook his head, unconvinced. "Whatever you say."

...

Draco had tried to avoid the topic of the wedding, which was hard as it was all anyone talked about at work. Too soon came the night before the marriage, and Draco was still debating whether or not he should go. He wanted so very much not to attend – but he knew it would be rude not to. Besides, he had new dress robes and he wouldn't want them to go to waste. Yes, that was the reason he had convinced himself to go.

The next morning, Draco and Blaise arrived at the apparition point on the hill near the Burrow at twenty minutes to eleven. He could see a huge white marquee set up next to the towering three-storied house. Contrary to his previous opinion, Draco thought the Burrow was a wonderful house, especially compared to the overly-formal grandeur of Malfoy Manor.

They walked down to the marquee, Draco's anxiety growing more powerful with every step he took. He felt awkward coming to the residence of the Weasleys after saying so many bad things about them throughout his years at Hogwarts.

When they reached the entrance, Blaise turned to Draco. "Are you sure you're okay with this? We could always go home. No-one will have to know."

As Draco began to reply, an excited Harry Potter came around the side of the marquee.

"Alright, Draco? Blaise?" said Potter, grinning from ear to ear. Blaise greeted him, before slipping inside the tent, leaving Draco with his obviously taken ex-lover.

He tried to form words, but he found himself staring at Potter stupidly instead. He looked absolutely stunning, in his emerald green muggle suit that matched his eyes, his perfectly windswept hair and- Draco shook himself. It wasn't him that was marrying Potter, it was the Weaslette, and he would do well to remember that.

Potter was looking at him curiously. "Are you alright? You look quite pale."

"I'm fine," Draco croaked. "Congratulations by the way," He continued, offering a weak smile.

Potter's eyes lit up as if he had only just realized it was his wedding day. He looked so genuinely happy, that Draco knew he would be a monster to come in between anything Potter and the Weaslette had.

"It's funny how it's worked out, isn't it?" the raven-haired man said, doing that gorgeous crooked smile of his.

Who was he kidding? He wasn't over Potter at all, and no matter how much he denied it, he still fancied him.

The man who was to be married to his fiancée in no less than ten minutes.

"I just feel like the luckiest guy in the world," Potter continued. "She's just so beautiful and perfect." He sighed. "So, what about you? Have you got lucky in love yet?"

Draco shook his head. 'How could I when they'll always have you to compete with?' He wanted to say, but he couldn't, he knew he couldn't.

"No, I'm still waiting for that perfect guy or girl to come along. Good luck!" He called, and before Potter could reply, rushed into the marquee.

This was going to be much harder than he'd expected.

…

Ginny Weasley was absolutely beautiful. Anyone in the marquee could see that – with her flowing auburn hair, warm brown eyes and her traditional white, jewelled dress that hugged her body perfectly.

Why would Potter stay with Draco when he could be with someone like Ginny?

His head shot up when he heard Potter's voice say, "I, Harry, take you, Ginny, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part."

It reminded him of one particular night in the Room of Requirement. A night when they had made promises of their own.

…

Draco lay his head across Harry's lap, letting out a contented sigh as Harry ran his hand through his hair.

"Don't ever leave me," he murmured, leaning into the other boy's somewhat rhythmical caress.

"I won't," Harry reassured him. "I love you, you know that."

"Mmm," Draco agreed, as Harry leant down to kiss him gently. The fire crackled and danced, sending a blanket of warmth over the two lovers. "Promise me. Promise me you won't leave me." His voice cracked. "Because I couldn't live without you."

"I promise."

Draco smiled wryly as the couple kissed. 'Promises', he thought. After all, in the end, they were only words.

…

Draco threw the newspaper into the fire. He knew the situation all too well. Since the wedding, there had been innumerable headlines featuring Potter and his happy new marriage with the Weaslette.

But this new story - Potter was having a child.

Draco buried his head in his arms. He let his selfishness take over, and a tear rolled down his cheek before he wiped it away angrily, remembering what his father used to say - Malfoys don't cry.

And that was it. Why was he crying? Potter was happy after all. Wasn't this what he had always wanted? Draco remembered when they'd talk about adopting a child when they left school.

Potter had adored children, and he'd always wanted one of his own. Draco just assumed he would be the one to raise a child with Potter.

…

'James Sirius Potter', screamed the headline. 'First child of The Boy Who Lived'.

It had been a stressful day at work, and upon returning to his flat, Draco found himself faced with his father, who had made himself quite at home on one of Draco's sofas.

Lucius Malfoy smiled up at his only son. "Hello, Draco." He gestured to the muggle flat. "Funny little place you have here! I say, are you sure you wouldn't like me to get you a house of your own?" He wrinkled his nose slightly, but the humour in his eyes showed he was only joking.

"No thank you father," Draco said, politely. "May I ask the reason for your visit?"

"Is it too hard to believe a father would want to spend quality time with his favourite son?"

"I'm your only son," Draco pointed out, arching an eyebrow elegantly.

"Oh alright," his father sighed. "It's the Daily Prophet."

Without warning, he thrust the newspaper into Draco's face. It was then, for the millionth time that day, Draco saw the headline. It couldn't be escaped- everyone had been talking about it, including, it seemed, his father.

"Reading this got me thinking. Maybe you ought to start a family of your own."

Well, he hadn't expected that at all.

"Why would I need to do that, Father?"

Lucius leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I just think you're getting to that age where you should settle down a little, take it easy. Besides," he added, leaning forward and smirking slightly. "I've always fancied being a Grandfather."

Draco couldn't help but laugh as he pictured his father, the high and mighty Lucius Malfoy, coddling a baby, a baby who would no doubt throw up all over his death eater robes, own at least one pair of Slytherin pyjamas and destroy some priceless Malfoy emblems.

"I think… you're right," Draco agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Have you got anyone in mind?"

…

"I, Draco, take you Astoria, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part."

The wedding was a small affair, held in the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The people from the Auror office were invited, which of course included Potter, his wife, and his child, who had just turned one.

Astoria was a nice enough girl, and Draco found himself becoming friends with her a lot quicker than he'd expected. No romantic feelings had emerged, but he'd give it time, for her sake. He too had always wanted a child, and he had found a perfectly respectable woman who had promised him just that.

Maybe he shouldn't pretend, but he found it hard not to go along. Astoria had been thrilled with the prospect of marriage, her family had been ecstatic, and his father had been so proud.

As he leaned in to kiss her, he'd made up his mind. He'd try all he could to love Astoria, and maybe it would work out, maybe they would have a family of their own.

Who knew? Maybe one day he'd move on.

Maybe one day she'd help him stop hurting.

The End.