AN: I have been disgustingly busy. Also, I just finished writing a seven page research paper on the Cuban economy, so I am slightly incoherent.

Chapter 35: Rehearsal

Somewhere between Draco's soothing words and his talented tongue, Harry had caved.

"I love you, you know. So let me help you, you insufferable twat."

Maybe it was the juxtaposition of mental disarray and insults that made the moment all too convincing. It seemed like a decent summary of their relationship, in all honesty. The sexual vernacular only added to that.

So through that mix of dysfunction, love, and fantastic sex that Harry's life had become, it all led him here. Embarrassingly enough, Draco had given him a big hug and kiss before sending him off to the other side of the hospital. At least Draco had checked if anyone was around before doing so. In the trauma wing, he was working away at a man who had fallen from the Wizarding History Museum roof. It was unclear whether or not he jumped.

Away from the action was Harry, sitting on a plush maroon chair and fidgeting himself half to death. A kind-looking old nurse had told him Dr. Sanatore would be with him shortly. Half of him felt like a completely helpless idiot for showing up, and the other half knew it was necessary.

Muggle psychology degrees were hung on the walls, and the color-scheme was refreshingly calm as opposed to the clinical white walls of the St. Mungo's halls. Draco would have liked it. Harry could have sworn he was in a different building. It was only then that he looked up to the dog-themed calendar on the wall, with August's poster-dog being a chipper west highland terrier barking at the camera. "Fuck," Harry muttered.

"Anything wrong?"

Harry's head turned over his shoulder to see the woman who opened the door. "Sorry," he said. All Harry had noticed was that his wedding was in a week. Seven days. One-hundred sixty-eight hours. Ten thousand eighty minutes.

"Don't be," the woman said with a warm smile, teapot in her hand. "I'm assuming you're Harry Potter?"

"You'd be assuming correctly," Harry said, standing up to shake her hand. At least she hadn't asked for an autograph yet.

She returned the handshake firmly. "Good. I'm Doctor Cheryl Sanatore, and you can just call me Cheryl. Let's not worry about titles and last names."

Harry nodded, his teeth worrying at the inside of his lip. Trying to sit up in the chair as she found her place across from him, Harry made a conscious effort to stop tapping his foot and ringing his hands. Only Harry Potter would want to seem normal for his therapist.

When she noticed that Harry wasn't going to make the first move, Cheryl did. "So, why don't you tell me about yourself?" After summoning a couple of cups, she began to pour the tea in to create a more comfortable atmosphere. Harry could smell from afar that it was chamomile and felt immediately warmed.

He shrugged. "You've probably read the papers."

"I have," she admitted. If Cheryl wasn't careful, Harry could fall asleep to that soft voice of hers. At least it was reassuring. "But I know how inaccurate they can be."

"Speaking of papers," Harry transitioned in a fashion that wasn't at all awkward. "You can't, erm. Everything I say stays here, right?"

Cheryl didn't look terribly offended by Harry's questioning, which was probably good news. "There is such thing as Doctor-Patient Confidentiality," she told him. "It's been replicated into wizarding law as well. Don't worry. I have no interest in making money through selling you out; this job pays well enough."

Harry laughed a little nervously. "Right."

"Has anyone ever sold your personal information to the press?"

"Yes," he sighed. "Lots of times. Some people I thought were friends, and even once, a boyfriend."

"That must've been a painful betrayal."

"It was," Harry said, relieved she hadn't asked 'how that makes him feel', like therapists were always doing on television. That, and he would have probably answered that question with 'devastated', which made him feel pathetic. "I broke up with him right after, and it was mostly stupid stuff he told The Prophet, but it was still total shit."

"Sounds like," Cheryl responded. "Though I suppose you don't have to worry about that now."

"Right," he grinned. His wedding was common knowledge at that point, and it was at least convenient for small talk. "Draco's… Great. Absolutely great. Not just in the sense that he won't go screaming my secrets in the streets, but in every other way."

"Tell me about him." Her voice verged on saccharine for a moment, but Harry decided to ignore it. This wasn't as terribly painful or shameful as he thought it would be.

"He's fantastic. I mean, that's why I proposed. I want to do this right, like my parents did. Draco's my family, and the only man I want to be with. It sounds kind of cheesy, but I think he's 'The One' people are always talking about. Soulmate-type stuff."

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "I think that there are a lot of people in the world that you can be compatible with, and all that. There are just some that you can be with more than others. There may not be one person for everyone, but you can get pretty close. I think I have, since I think he's the only one for me."

"Are you looking forward to the wedding?"

"Yeah. Wow, that sounded unenthusiastic, but I am. It's just the actual planning I don't really enjoy. The ceremony and the reception are more for Draco. I really only want to be married, and call him my husband," he told her.

She leaned forward in her own cushy chair. "Do you think you'll enjoy the day?"

"Definitely," he nodded. "I mean, Draco's planned the whole thing out to be fantastic. The ceremony will be fulfilling, and the reception will have good music and even better food."

That made Cheryl smile. "I'm glad to hear that. How many days left?"

"Seven."

"Congratulations." Harry found her sincerity disturbing. But, then again, she was being paid to do this for him. "So, what brings you here today?"

"Draco," Harry let slip before catching himself.

That made Cheryl's smile even bigger. "So he wanted you to talk to me?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to talk to me?"

That was the question of the hour, Harry supposed. "I don't know. Draco wanted me to because he cares, but I'm… Apprehensive."

"Any reasons why?"

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. He could say the real reason, or not. His choice. "I'm not crazy, or disturbed, or sick, or broken," Harry said, determined once the truth left his lips. "I'm a regular bloke who was destined from birth to kill Tom Riddle, had a shitty childhood, some repressed homosexuality, and lived in constant fear of death for a few years. It's nothing I can't just get over." Half of that was supposed to be satirical, but it came out disturbed.

Cheryl nodded while he spoke, taking it all in. "You're right."

"What?"

"I don't think you're crazy or broken or anything of the sort," she told him. "And I think you can get over it. You're a resilient man, Harry Potter. But even great men need help from time to time."

With a nod, Harry fell back into the chair and started from the beginning.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Lucius had been in a suspiciously pleasant mood since the beginning of the day, and Narcissa was starting to become concerned. "Are you ready to go?" she asked, wondering if a reminder of the wedding rehearsal would put him back in his usual dower disposition.

"One moment," Lucius responded from the bathroom after his combing had finished. "I still need to get my shoes on."

Narcissa tried to fasten on her silver and white diamond bracelet while she waited, watching her husband shift to tying his shoes while seated on their bed. "Lucius, can you—"

Before she finished, he was on his feet and in front of her. Even though his hands ached after writing for too long, they were still able to assist his wife.

"Thank you." Narcissa looked up to see him smiling. She couldn't help but get on her tip-toes to reward him with a kiss. Afterward, her fingers lingered on his cheek, caressing his freshly-shaved skin. "What has you in such a wonderful mood?"

"One step closer to grandchildren," he said with a grin that could have been a mirror image to Draco's.

"Smart aleck," she said affectionately, taking his hand and leading them through their fireplace.

All over London, the finest and most famous of wizarding kind were stepping into their fireplaces, apparating, and some even ascended on their brooms to meet up in the Kensington Roof Gardens, the pride of British cuisine and, bluntly enough, wealth.

Draco and Harry had arrived an hour early to help set up. After transporting an extremely grandiose guest book with pens of different colors for every single member of the damned wedding, Harry had actually underestimated how extravagant the day would be.

"No," Draco snapped at an unsuspecting usher. "Those flowers go over there!" He turned to his fiancée to give him a wavering eyeroll. "I swear, some people have no eye for spacing."

"It's so hard to get good help these days," Harry said with a mock-seriousness.

"Thank you," Draco sighed when he didn't pick up on Harry's sarcasm. "Hey! What makes you think that the begonias go anywhere near the violets? Uncultured swine." Draco stomped off after a crowd of confused servicemen to fix it his damned self.

Harry had a genuine empathy for those poor, abused workers. He decided a large tip and an apology was in order after all of the madness was over.

On the other side of the grand ballroom, future wedding participants found themselves awed at the decorations fit for the royal blood of old. Minerva McGonagall arrived a woman who had seen her fair share of magical creations and ceremonies. Her wedding had included some literal magic, but this was something else.

The creamy walls reflected a soft glow, and the candles floating around the ceiling reminded her of Hogwarts. Somehow, they were different. Everything seemed to be shining.

"Minnie!" Sirius shouted as he entered behind her. "You look radiant, my dear."

Minerva greeted her old student with a knowing look. "You only compliment me when you want something, Mr. Lupin."

"Pulling out the last name on me? Oh, how cold," Sirius sighed, giving her a big kiss on the cheek. After all, spending all your school time either in detention or in the Forbidden Forest tended to do that to someone.

Finally, she returned the affection with a clasp of their hands. "How have you been?"

"Ever the chipper-er. Chipperest? Moony, get over here." Sirius beckoned his husband away from a platter of cheese that a waitress held up with one hand. "What's the word for when you're even more than chipper?"

Even Remus couldn't figure that one out. "Chipper… Er? Who knows?"

"Shakespeare made up his own words," Sirius pointed out to the both of them, deciding that 'chipperer' was going to be a word and used with the utmost frequency. "I'm really only a few best-selling plays and poems away from being just like good ol' Willie."

"Of course," Remus grinned.

"I happen to remember you complaining about Romeo and Juliet in a class of mine. I remember it caught my attention, since I taught transfiguration," McGonagall said.

"I'd like to transfigure that story into something better!" Sirius saw that as an entirely appropriate way to skirt the issue of his lack of attention to school subjects. "It was unbelievably stupid. They were a couple of twelve year-olds, and they snogged at a party once."

Minerva smiled to herself. She also happened to remember a pair of star-crossed young men who caught each other's eyes at a young age, but thankfully, there was no double-suicide, murder, or over-invested preachers to marry them.

"Attention, everyone!" Draco called after having put the decorated arcs and chairs up all on his own while some dazed employees watched. "If you could all file outside, we could finish the rehearsal of the ceremony quickly—without any disruptions. As incentive, I will remind you that it's traditional to have a rehearsal dinner afterwards." He would never be above using food as a manipulative device.

Ron's head perked up at that, and even his father heard his stomach rumble. "Come along," Molly said, guiding her gaggle towards the ceremony garden. Behind them followed the Lupins and McGonagall with Hagrid joining her, Harry's Gryffindor friends, Draco's Slytherin friends, and last but never least, the Malfoys.

"Doesn't this remind you of our wedding?" Narcissa asked, strung on Lucius' arm.

"I think Draco has a little more pomp and circumstance to his than we ever had," he commented airily, watching his only heir lead a swarm of shouting wedding guests up the glass stairs and out of the building to the altar. "I hope they can pay for it with their joint account."

Narcissa shook her head and laughed, following her husband up. When she finally got a look outside, something right beneath her ribcage swelled. The floating orbs of light illuminated the gardens, but were almost unnecessary with the brilliant starlight overhead. This was where her baby was getting married. She knew she could only ever get away with calling him that in her head.

Draco kept it to himself how the gardens utilized an enchanted barrier around the gardens to make the night sky brighter if only to see the looks of awe and wonder on his friend's faces.

"Shit," Maggie said in approval, nodding her head. "You really know how to throw a party, Draco."

"Of course I do." Draco's confidence rolled off of him as he strode out to the end of the lilac silken aisle cover, motioning for Harry to follow. "Now," he said as he walked. "I've told all of the groomsmen and groomsmaids which order they're walking down in, so I hope you paid attention."

There were mumbles of 'right' and 'sure' as Draco turned around. With a swish of his wand, the chairs appeared for the guests who wouldn't be walking down the aisle with them. "Everyone else, kick back and watch."

"You know how much he likes it when people watch," Pansy murmured to her girlfriend, the both of them bursting into a fit of giggles. Thankfully, Draco's parents were out of earshot.

Giggling aside, Pansy and Maggie weren't about to make Draco any more strained than usual. He always got so snippy when that happened. "What now?" Pansy asked after taking her position across from Theodore Nott. Sirius would give them the signal when it was time to start, and Ron and Hermione would follow after.

Behind them, everyone was paired off in couples. Women on the left, men on the right. It alternated which groom they originally befriended, having a cocoa couple for every lavender pair.

"Perfect," Draco said, relieved that even Luna had remembered where to go with precision. Perhaps she was put in Ravenclaw for a reason after all.

With a nod to Sirius, the rehearsal ceremony began. After Draco had to teach the flower girl and ring bearer how to properly walk down a bloody aisle, it was the adults' turn. Theo begrudgingly gave Pansy his arm, but they walked down the aisle with an unmatched grace. Ron and Hermione's walk was… Passable, at least. It wasn't horribly embarrassing.

Greg and Maggie followed, with Neville and Luna close behind. The last pair had been difficult for Draco to put together, however. It was Ginny and Blaise, which clearly mixed sides of the aisle. If only Draco had some more female friends and Harry had some more male ones.

However, being famous for a war was not the best ingredient to start new friendships. The only person Draco had met who wasn't a part of the war and wasn't either pitiful of him, angry at him, or adoring of him was Maggie. One woman out of thousands whom Draco had come across over the years; it felt good that Pansy was with someone who finally had enough intelligence and understanding to find their way out of a paper bag and into the real world.

As Ginny and Blaise walked down the aisle looking at anything but each other's faces or their intertwined arms, Draco realized it was his and Harry's turn.

"Oh," Harry said quietly, as he realized too.

Draco offered his arm, and thanked his lucky stars that his father hadn't insisted on walking him down the aisle. That would have been a nightmare.

Harry held tight and walked with him. It wasn't exactly their big wedding walk, but his stomach still felt fluttery.

"There they are," Sirius grinned, standing with a copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' at the end of the aisle in place of a Bible. After all, it was the only book they had lying around that Remus was willing to spare. "The men of the hour. So, how are we doing this?"

With their friends lined up, Draco's men and maids on one side, and Harry's men and maids on the other, Draco and Harry took their respective places with their hands clasped in the middle.

"We're not doing anything now," Draco assured him. "This is just when we'll read our vows, and then you'll do the wand bonding and all that." Out of his pocket, Draco waved a wrapped-up scroll of paper.

"You've finished yours?" Harry asked, surprised.

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Of course I have. Haven't you?"

"Er," he scrambled for an answer. "Yeah, I have." Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Remus shaking his head.

"Good." Draco tucked a stray strand of hair behind Harry's hair and smiled, knowing the man was lying out of his teeth. But he was lying for Draco, and that was entirely acceptable to him. "I bet they're fantastic." Adding a little pressure was only some harmless fun.

"Right," Harry nodded, cursing himself for mentioning it at all.

"Alright, alright, so, I ask for objections and all that, and then I wed you," Sirius said, eyes looking up as he went through the list in his head. "Then what?"

"Then," Draco said as if he'd been waiting to say it all that day. "You go down to the reception hall, where Harry and I will make our grand entrance. Then comes our first dance, booze, dinner, and cake."

That got a cheer out of every member of the wedding party for many different reasons.

"What are we doing sitting here, then?" Blaise desperately needed a drink.

"Finishing the rehearsal! Now shut up and we can get on to the dinner," Draco huffed, turning back to Harry.

"Fine," Blaise mumbled.

After a few more notes from Draco on how the groomsmaids were to properly hold the 'priceless' bouquets, he launched into an explanation on wedding photos. "Now, I know you'll all be hung-over from the night before," Draco sighed. It really hadn't been the best idea to place the bachelor party the night before the wedding. "But I'll have potions for that, courtesy of Theo."

The other Slytherin rolled his eyes. Leave it to Draco to give him an order five days before it was due.

"We'll meet in the botanical section of the gardens for pictures, and you better look fantastic. Remember, hair down for the ladies, curl it with a spell, and men don't you dare forget your cufflinks."

"Yes, sir," Ron joked, obviously not knowing the weight of that word in Harry and Draco's relationship.

"Exactly," Draco said. "Everyone got that?"

"Yes," the hungry crowd boomed. Narcissa smiled to herself, noting that Draco looked like his father when he gave commands.

"Then let's eat."

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Well into his fourth glass of champagne, Ron felt that if Hermione couldn't drink, he would just have to drink enough for the both of them. She was engrossed in some conversation about politics with Ginny, but turned around when he gave her a tap on the arm. "Should I be making a speech?"

"Usually the parents do first," Ginny whispered over her half-depleted third course. She had no idea how people were supposed to eat seven of these for every dinner.

When Ron tilted his head in order to think about it, Hermione put a hand on his thigh and clarified. "Yes, you should definitely make a speech." Hermione Weasley may have been accepting of Harry's future husband, but Draco's family was another story.

With a nod, Ron clinked his spoon against his champagne glass. However, the drunken Gryffindor hadn't realized his Auror strength. After the first ring as clear as a bell, the second rasp of the spoon on glass shattered the carefully carved glass. Were those engraved?

Draco made an enraged noise that worried Harry, so he cast a quick 'Reparo' in Ron's defense. Thankfully, the glass shards flew back together before Draco could leap across the table and strangle Ron.

"He does it again," Draco hissed under his breath at Harry. "And I will hurt him."

With a pat on the knee, Harry gave him a placating kiss on the cheek. "The glass can be fixed, Draco."

"Glass and diamonds."

Harry would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't giving Ron an encouraging look.

"Right, sorry 'bout that," Ron said, raising the repaired glass. At least he wasn't slurring his speech. "So, as the Best Man of our Harry here, I get to return the favor of what he did to me at my wedding."

Draco raised an eyebrow, wondering what his Saint Potter had done.

"You might not all remember, but he told the story of my—" Ron turned to motion to Hermione, who shook her head. She loved that man, and that man was drunk. "My beautiful wife and my first kiss."

Somehow, Draco felt like he was missing something. He imagined the two Gryffindors had kissed under mistletoe out of chance or something equally cliché. After all, he hadn't exactly been invited to their wedding.

"All in good fun," Harry reminded him, wondering where Ron was going with this. From the confused look on Draco's face, he'd have to explain their mid-battle snog to him later.

"Yeah, yeah," Ron laughed, one hand moving to keep himself steady on the chair. "Well, I decided I'm going to tell a story in your honor, and this one is about how I found out Draco and Harry were… Involved." A drunken flourish of his hand added his own flair to the speech, and at the end of the table Sirius was beaming with pride. It was exactly how he had acted at James' rehearsal.

"You really don't have to—" Harry cut in quickly. After all, it was a private moment.

"Oh no," the Best Man returned with a wag of a finger. "Everyone has to hear this."

"Let the man speak," Blaise urged from the other end of the table, keenly interested in seeing smoke come out of Harry's ears.

Ron shot the man a grin. "Thank you, Zabini. Now, it was a bright and shiny day at Harry's flat, and we'd gotten a break in our current case. I was in too much of a rush to look at The Prophet that morning to see that they had been caught snogging, so I used my spare key to open up Harry's flat door."

Draco's grey eyes flicked over to Harry, having never heard this little tidbit before. Much to his delight, Harry's cheeks were getting pink. Under the reception hall lighting, it was as clear as day. "Salazar," Draco breathed. Nothing was better than seeing Harry's skeletons in the closet. Usually, they were strange and embarrassing, and warranted the use of a teasing nickname for a few weeks.

"Don't," Harry tried. It was futile.

Ron launched into his story. "So I walk into the flat and I start calling for him, and there he is. On his old sofa—the one that Draco threw out when they moved in together, with the holes— with, and I kid you not, a dictionary in his hand."

"Ron."

"Then, all wild-eyed, Harry looked up at me," Ron continued. "And he asks me: 'What's a synonym for gorgeous that rhymes with 'perfect?' I told him I didn't know, and saw that he had not one—but three cups of coffee around him."

Even Lucius was interested in the outcome of this speech. It seemed to be going nowhere and everywhere all at once, a journey into the psyche of Ron Weasley. It was like a train wreck, and he couldn't look away.

"So I ask him what the hell he's doing, and he kind of curls back into the couch." Ron did his best Harry impression. "'He hates bad grammar, you know? So the word choice better be good. I should probably buy a thesaurus.'"

Draco laughed along with everyone else, knowing that was an entirely true statement. "I didn't know you tried to write poetry for me after our first date," he said, giving Harry a little nudge.

"It was terrible," Harry sighed. "I scrapped it seconds after; you would have hated it."

Before Draco could tell him how wrong that was, Ron finished off his Harry impression. "When I asked who 'he' was, Harry went a little mental. Finally, I got him to tell me. 'Draco Malfoy,' he said. 'I'm drinking espressos so I can write romantic poetry for Draco Malfoy'."

That had the wedding members laughing into their champagne and fine food.

"But I finally figured it out," Ron said, eyes bright and eager through the haze of alcohol. "You know what synonym for gorgeous rhymes with perfect? Erect. Here's to the grooms!" An uproar of laughter filled the room, and even Harry found himself smiling. Avoiding eye contact with Lucius at all costs, but smiling.

"Here's to the grooms!" Hermione echoed, raising her glass of water to meet everyone in the middle. Begrudgingly, even Lucius raised his glass. An off-color sexual innuendo wasn't about to ruin his night as he thought of the wedding gift for Harry and Draco saved in his vault.