Yes, I really should be working, or at least writing my promised follow-up to Honour Amongst Snakes, but a little bit more slightly deranged Astoria and very sexy Draco managed to worm its way out, so please read and review.
"!"
I am standing in my tent, hyperventilating, whilst mother and Daphne try to calm me down. It isn't working. In less than ten minutes, I have to step out onto a long stretch of velvet carpet, in front of the crème de la crème of wizarding society, and become Mrs Draco Malfoy. Without him here to calm me down, I am not taking the stress well.
"MotherofsoddingMerlinI'mgonnaDIIIIIIEEEEEEE," I wail hysterically, taking a peek through the tent flap and almost keeling over as I spot the Minister for Magic in the crowd, sitting next to the English Quiddich captain and in front of a vipers' nest of reporters, all sitting on the edges of their seats and craning around every two seconds, lying in wait to bombard me with flashes and judgemental expressions the second I show my face. I bet Draco is taking this all in his stride, the bastard.
I wish for the millionth time that I had listened to my own better judgement and gone for a small, private wedding far, far away from rabid crowds of snooty, inbred guests.
"Astoria, if you don't stop pacing right this second I'm going to stun you and send Daphne out there under polyjuice," mother snaps impatiently as I begin to dance a frenzied kind of jig up and down the tent. I freeze.
"That's better," she says in satisfaction. "Now take a deep breath." I inhale.
"You're about to marry the man you love, are you not?" I nod.
"You have been dating for over three years, have you not?" I nod.
"You have been preparing for this day for months, is that not so?" I nod. My face must be turning purple by now. My mother sighs.
"You may breathe out again, Astoria." My breath comes out in a relieved whoosh. I feel much better. Not because of my mother's pep talk, per se, but because I can see out of the flap in the tent again, and I can see Draco. He looks slightly nervous, and he keeps running his hands over his lovely, silky blond hair. My fear dissolves into a pink, fuzzy haze. He's the reason I'm standing here, palms sweating like never before, heart slamming against my ribs harder than I've ever known them to.
Our first kiss; I rush at him and almost knock him over, but it turns out he feels the same way...
Our first date; I forget about it completely after panicking about it all week, and turn up twenty minutes late wearing my pyjamas. We are going to Hogsmeade. He laughs so hard he falls over, and we end up eating ice cream in the kitchens...
The Proposal; he messes up this time, and leaves the ring at home. I see the look of panic in his eyes as he reaches into his pocket after a long, romantic speech and finds it empty.
"Looking for this?" I ask smugly. The ring box had rolled out of his pocket as he picked up my shawl earlier, and I palmed it, knowing what it was...
Now it's our wedding day, and I know everything will be perfect, because he is there, waiting for me, and no amount of tabloids and in-laws can get me down now that his grey eyes rake the entrance to the bridal tent and see me peeking out. He winks at me, trademark smirk in place, and I scowl to myself, fighting the silly smile which threatens to break. Typical Draco, mocking my pain, daring me to walk out there and marry his smug ass. Well, that's exactly what I intend to do. I step back and take a deep breath, checking my reflection and smoothing my ivory white dress.
"I'm ready," I say, and, under my breath. "Take that smug sonofaferret look off his face now, see if I don't."
And I part the curtains fluidly as the first bars of the song start, and sashay my hips so that my full skirt sways to the beat, proceeding elegantly up the aisle, watching his eyes widen in surprise and warm with affection, ignoring the crowd, letting a gentle smile drift onto my lips, meeting his eyes boldly, daring him to find fault.
I only stumble once, and I am pretty sure nobody except Draco sees, judging by the little grip that creeps onto his face. Damn my clumsiness for ruining my mind-blowingly elegant and confident entrance, but finally I make it, facing the man who will take me home tonight, and for every night after that. Looking into his mirthful grey eyes, ire vying with admiration, as usual, I can't think why I was nervous. It's just Draco, and the familiar feelings of love and of playful irritation, with a priest. I say my lines and sip champagne, and then I am in his arms, and everything in the world is perfect as we take our first dance, which feels just like every other dance we've had together; perfect.
"I saw you slip," Draco murmurs into my ear.
"Damn, I thought so," I whisper back, not sounding annoyed at all. "I'm sure it was your fault. You know your smile does evil things to me."
"I count on it," he replies, and I can feel his smirk.
"At least I didn't tear my dress or show my underwear," I defend.
"That's what you think," he teases. I resist the urge to check the back of my dress, instead digging my nails in, just a little, till he chuckles.
"Teasing, love," he grins. "You looked beautiful. I couldn't believe my luck. I didn't think a man like me deserved someone as amazing as you." I detect the charm offensive, and put on my mock-haughty voice.
"I thought so." He tilts my chin up, and I can see he knows he's already won.
"So I'm forgiven?"
"I suppose so."
"So you won't tell the reporters I'm a maggot-faced squib, then?" I blush as I recall a particularly chaotic argument about, as I remember, the function of a salad fork. I pretend to consider.
"...probably not."
"Good enough for me."