Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.

A/N: This isn't properly British.

"Nonono—"

But it's too late. The door swings open, and Neville's halfway into the bathroom before he realizes he's in trouble. "What?"

"Neville," Draco grumbles, looking exasperated. He examines himself in the mirror, having just slicked down his platinum hair neatly, and scolds, "I told you to use the other bathroom."

"Oops, forgot," Neville returns with a shrug. He stands next to Draco at the sink and tilts his chin, examining his stubble. Draco told him exactly how to do it yesterday.

Just like how Draco picked out his robes, and his shoes, and his tie, and showed him how to do his hair. It looks mostly like he's followed the instructions as best he could, and he looks good. But then, Draco could make anyone look good. And Neville doesn't need much help. Draco doesn't admit it often, but he takes pride in how gorgeous the man he managed to snag is. Tomorrow, Draco's going to send several cards out with pictures and thinly veiled bragging.

Now he grabs Neville's shoulder lightly and turns him for a proper assessment. Neville stands a little straighter, and Draco continues to scold while studying him. "We're not supposed to see each other on the day of—it's bad luck."

"I thought that was just with brides." Neville smiles.

Draco glares. "It is not. Besides, you ruined the surprise. Now I already know what you'll look like."

Neville raises an eyebrow. "You did everything but lay out my socks this morning—you already knew what I looked like."

"Not all together," Draco whines, and he smoothes out the wrinkles across Neville's chest so the robes lie flat. "I'm supposed to see it for the first time when I come down the aisle."

"I thought I was coming down the aisle."

"No, I changed that yesterday."

"Does Percy know that?"

"He doesn't need to know everything—it's my wedding."

"But we asked him to plan it..."

"Neville," Draco warns. Neville grins but quiets. "Look, I already talked to my parents about it. My father will be much faster walking me down than your gran will."

"Do we want it to be faster?"

"Well, we don't want it to be all day, and we need someone who's not going to crash the wedding by sneakily veering off course."

Neville's smile drops into a small frown. "She wouldn't do that." Then he adds, with a bit more cheek, "We're the Gryffindor side—remember? You're putting Slytherins in charge to avoid sneaking?"

Ignoring the familiar dig, because their relationship is rife with them, Draco steps back to eye Neville properly, head to toe. Neville holds out his arms helpfully, and Draco tries not to beam. Neville looks good enough to eat, and as stressed as Draco's been while getting ready, he can't imagine anything that could go wrong enough to ruin this. ...Even if Neville did get a head start on trouble by bursting in early...

"You look gorgeous," Neville says suddenly. He's smiling as wide as Draco wants to. There're so many other things to say, and not enough words to say them. For a moment, it's just grinning and looking.

But Draco doesn't want to cry yet, so he turns to the door. "Wait a few minutes to go downstairs—I don't want Mother to know we saw each other."

"Wait."

Draco turns just in time to get flattened into the bathroom door and pressed into a warm but too chaste kiss.