Chapter 2: Care and Careless

The wedding was just as... depressing as I assumed. There Potter and Weasly stood, sharing vows and soppy looks, the whole ministry and the press jammed under the tiny chapel roof, with their families surrounding them with such love and adoration pasted onto their faces that I wanted to vomit into my cloak pocket.
When the ceremony ended the newlyweds kissed to a tremendous round of applause that I would have joined in, if I had not wanted to draw attention to my being there, plus everyone in the church seemed to have it covered.
Harry and Ginny were bombarded with reporters, including Rita Skeeter – the smug cow who printed the atrocious article about my Father being sent to prison so many years ago.
Thoughts of my Father stung. I couldn't bear to think of him.
I hid behind a pillar as Potter and his new wife approached, whilst trying to leave the church. I watched the procession follow the couple out of the church doors and across the road to the pub I had arrived in.
I had no idea why I had come, especially since I did not desire to be seen mixing with my former enemies, but I still wanted to be there for the rest of the day. To help... celebrate Potter's day. My silent thank you for all the times he did help me.
Was I turning sappy? Unlikely.

I entered the brightly lit pub, pulling my cloak hood over my head as an attempt not to be recognised. I could hear Harry was giving a speech from the next room – specially reserved for the party? Probably... Potter had enough money for that.
I listened in on the party whilst sitting at the bar. Occasionally I tilted my head on side in-between sips of Firewhisky, better to see the occasional guest enjoying the party, hoping, slightly to arouse the attention of Potter briefly, or, perhaps the bar maid?

It grew very dark outside. The couple had taken their first dance, endless amounts of drink and food had been served, music blared from the back of the pub, and it was coming up to two in the morning, but the party seemed nowhere near a close.
"Three more Sherries please Gabrielle." I turned my head, not to look at the origin of the voice, but away from her, as I knew the voice very well.
The person called Gabrielle said in a sickly sweet voice "Yes, just a moment." I knew the barmaid, and now by name and sound, I also knew the smell of flowery perfume that sat through the air as she walked away to the cellar. She made no noise, but I knew 'Gabrielle's' presence was not anywhere near.
The person next to me ordering the drinks sighed. I was about to take another sip of my drink – even though I was well aware I had drunk too much – sure that she hadn't recognised me, when she said;
"There's no point hiding under your hood." Was she positive she knew it was me, under the cloak? I thought to myself. Maybe she thought I could be someone else everyone would be happier to see. All question into whether she knew who I was, was soon answered when she asked "Draco?" I looked up, slowly, still begging she wouldn't recognise me. I had changed quite a lot since the last time we had spoken seven years previously.

I looked at her, out of the shadow that my disguise masked my face under.
"I knew it was you." She said, a smile growing on her flushed face. Was she happy to see me?
I didn't answer; I merely sipped at my Firewhisky and looked at the shiny bar top.
"You know, you never sent back your R.S.V.P.?" She said, laughing.
I imagined anyone could have turned up, and it would not dampen her spirits.
"Maybe I didn't come for the party." I said, still refusing to look at her.
"Oh yeah. You always go cross country, looking around Muggle villages and pubs to drink yourself half to death, don't you?" She said, looking disapprovingly at the twelve or so empty glasses in front of me.
"So what if I do?" I asked, looking at her finally.
I had never noticed, in all the years I had known her, just how pretty Ginny Weasly (now Potter I supposed) was. At Hogwarts she had been the annoying runt of the Weasly litter. She had been just like the rest of her family – pale, freckly with bright ginger hair – but now, looking at her face with perfect, flattering make up, and a long, off white dress that framed her slender figure perfectly, she looked positively dazzling.
"You look awful." She said, point blank, contrastingly spectacularly with my opinion of her exterior appearance.
What was with the world today with all of these suddenly pretty girls?
"Thanks." I said, simply.
"Seriously Draco." She said. "What happened to you?"
"Where's that waitress with your drinks?" I said, gruffly, leaning clumsily over the bar to look down the stairs where Gabrielle had disappeared.
"I don't mean to offend." Ginny said, back tracking at the expression on my face.
I harrumphed, and leant back in my chair, brushing a hand over the permanent stubble, marring my face.
She was silent for a while, then the bar maid came back up, handed Ginny the drinks, then Gabrielle went round the bar to take a rough looking man's order.
Ginny made to walk away, but I caught her arm before she was too far from me.
She turned around, shocked, to look at me again.
"Congratulations," I said, in the politest tone I could muster.
She smiled at my effort. "Thank you."
"Tell... tell Potter, won't you?" I said, wanting him to know that I was pleased he had found someone like Ginny.
"I will." With that, Ginny turned and left, causing me to watch her back until she disappeared out of sight.