In the Cold Light of Morning

Summary:In a moment of drunken stupidity, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy got married in Las Vegas at Ron's bachelor party. This sets of a stream of events that lead them to some rather starting realizations and possibly find each other.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, it's characters, affiliates or anything found in the books or movies really. They are sole property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. Story is based on haiiro-no-tenshi's H/D drawing which can be found here:.com/gallery/9548449#/d37rz4w

Chapter 2: Talking it out

Harry sighed and stared out the window. The scenery was a wonderful break from the all the pink he's seen. He loathed the color pink. It reminded him too much of Umbridge.

When Malfoy was in the bathroom, Harry immediately got out of the bed and dressed into something more comfortable than his birthday suit. When his hangover somewhat subsided, he immediately grabbed the marriage certificate and looked it over. After all, this could be nothing more than a sham, couldn't it?

He buried his face in his hands. Why, oh why did he have the worst of luck? Everything bad always seemed to happen to him.

Not only that, he'd have to tell people. Or at least, Hermione. She'd know exactly what to do.

Harry chuckled morosely. He could see it now. She'd have a litany of telling him how irresponsible he was and quite possibly, stupid, all while looking at the marriage certificate that was so gladly provided.

He couldn't even remember what happened last night. It was like a big chunk of his memory was removed. He didn't even remember drinking that much.

He heard his cell phone ring. Harry dove to the other side of the room, rummaging through his luggage, trying to find the sleek Blackberry that he bought. Grabbing the black device, he checked the caller ID before answering. It said: Ron.

"Hey, mate!" Ron greeted. "How are you this morning?"

"I've got a headache Ron, but otherwise, I'm fine." He replied.

Ron chuckled. "Great. Hey, listen, we leave right after lunch. We'll have lunch at that place we talked about yesterday, the one right across the casino. The portkey is set to go off at exactly twelve thirty. That gives us around three hours, give or take. So, you better pack, alright? The wedding starts at five."

Harry smiled. "Got it, Ron. And by the way, congratulations, mate."

"Yeah, thanks." Ron replied. "I better finish packing or Hermione will have my head if I'm late to our own wedding. She was already wary of us going to Las Vegas. She said someone could accidentally get married or something. I told her she was off her rocker."

Harry's breath hitched. "Y-yeah, she was definitely off her rocker. See you later, Ron!"

Ron hung up and Harry stared at the Blackberry in his hand. The door to the bathroom opened, revealing a wet Draco Malfoy, a fluffy green towel wrapped around his waist.

"Who was that? Weasley?" He asked, shaking the water from his hair.

Harry nodded weakly. "He said we'll be having lunch at that place across the casino. The portkey is set to go off at twelve thirty."

Malfoy sighed, before speaking up again. "Listen, Potter, I am as unhappy as you about this episode. But if it makes you feel better, we can tell Granger, after the wedding."

"How does that make me feel better?" Harry asked sardonically. "We still have to tell."

"Oh, stop acting like a whiny child, Potter." Malfoy huffed. "We don't have to tell everyone. The press would salivate like rabid dogs."

"That's the point! I tell someone something, and the next morning, it's in the press." Harry replied. "And I still can't believe you're so calm about this."

"This is a sham marriage Potter. It's not real. The moment we get back to Britain, the sooner I can divorce your sorry arse and get on with our lives. The Weaselette won't have to find out." Malfoy replied.

"Her name is Ginny." Harry said. "And I couldn't agree with you more."

"Good, Potter, then we have an agreement?" Malfoy asked.

Harry sighed. "Yes. But I still hate you, Malfoy."

"Feelings are mutual, Potter." He replied. "Now get out of here so I can change."

Harry grabbed the white fluffy towel from his bag and went inside the bathroom.

-ITCLOM-

Draco looked around the restaurant, trying to find Weasley and their other comrades from last night. It wasn't really hard to find the red head, seeing as his red hair gleamed like a beacon. He was with Thomas, Finnegan, Longbottom, Zabini and the Weasley twins, some of which looked like they sported terrible hangovers.

"Hey, Malfoy, where's Harry?" Weasley asked, his mouth full.

Draco scrunched his nose in not-so-well disguised disgust. "Potter told me to go ahead. He said he would catch up. It's only eleven, after all, Weasley. What's the rush?"

Weasley nodded in acknowledgement, before wolfing down his breakfast. Draco tried to figure out whatever the hell Weasley was eating. It looked like steak, and something else. "Order anything you want, Malfoy. The food here is amazing!"

Thomas agreed. "Indeed. American food is so…divine."

"And grotesque looking." Draco added. "What's that?"

Weasley looked down at his plate, before shrugging. "Dunno, really. I just told the waiter to give me the special for the day, and it's delicious! You should try it."

"No, I'd rather not." He signaled for a waitress who approached with a pen and notepad in her hand. "I'll have the green salad with baked chicken chunks and a tall glass of water."

The waitress wrote down his order, before speaking up. "Will that be all, sir?"

Draco thought momentarily. "Add some black coffee there as well. Extra strong, black coffee."

The waitress nodded, before leaving.

By the time eleven thirty rolled in, Potter arrived. Weasley greeted him with a customary good morning complete with flying bits of steak from his mouth. Draco thought he felt something wet hit his cheek.

Potter tucked into his food as if nothing happened last night. Although, he was walking strangely. Somehow, this gave Draco an ego boost. At least he was top.

"What the hell am I thinking? I shagged Potter and all I thought was oh, good, I was on top!" He mentally chastised himself. Potter glanced at him, before turning his attention back to his roast chicken.

When everyone finally ate their fill, Weasley gave them instructions on where to meet. They were to meet at the lobby, with luggage and all, before twelve thirty.

As Draco tugged his luggage, he can't help but to mull over last night's events. Even as he grabbed the portkey and Weasley began counting down, he just couldn't help but think what deity he'd offended to deserve this.

A familiar pull at his navel brought him to his senses and they were all whisked away back to England.

And for once, Draco was glad to be home.