Harry Potter and all characters, settings and situations in this story is © J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, and all others involved.
We Are All Friends Now
"We're not going."
"You are joking!"
"I am not. It's not good enough."
"It's acceptance, it's inclusion."
"No it isn't! 'Mr Charles Weasley and guest. I mean, who the hell do they think I'll bring? No, they can bloody well put your name on the invitation or we don't go."
Charlie threw the embossed card onto the kitchen table with an air of finality. "Anyway, they know we can't enter Britain, it's not safe. There's an outstanding death threat hanging over me."
"You don't think the security might be quite tight at the wedding of the Blessed Potter?" asked Draco, as he picked the invitation up again, adding, "Look. There: 'Mr and Mrs Arthur Weasley'. Your father's put his name to this. It's a peace offering."
"He won't have drawn up the guest list, will he? What if it's Harry's idea to invite us?" Charlie asked slyly.
Draco's eyes flared with hate, just as Charlie had known they would. With the predictable, cold malice in his voice, Draco answered, "But that would involve the Chosen One sullying his mind with some thinking and he has people to do that for him!"
Charlie sighed. He wished he hadn't mentioned Harry, but they could hardly ignore the fact that it was him who was getting married. "Why do you hate him so much?" he asked, moving into the sitting room to get his boots so Draco couldn't see his face.
Draco followed him, picking up the kiosk keys from the hook by the door, asking, "Do I have to start loving him now that he's going to be related to you?"
Charlie dropped his boots, "Hell no!" he cried out, with more vehemence than he had intended, making Draco turn round. "I just wish you didn't hate him so …" Charlie searched for a word that would explain his unease, "… passionately."
"What?" Draco looked lost.
"Just his name. It has a physical effect on you. You're so emotional about him. I know you say you hate him, but …" Charlie dropped his head. He'd been feeling this for so long, why did he have to bring it up now when they were both heading for work? He'd better finish the sentence anyway, "it looks like something else."
"Potter?" Draco laughed incredulously. "You're not jealous of Potter? That's ridiculous. I don't even like him. There is nothing about him that I find remotely pleasant."
"Ah! So why do you want to go to his wedding, then?" Charlie retorted. He bent down to fasten his boots.
Draco watched him, watched his strong fingers working the laces, watched the ginger fringe falling across the defined eyebrows into the blue eyes, saw the tightness round the mouth that meant his Charlie was trying to hide strong emotions. And Draco smiled broadly.
"You actually are jealous, aren't you?" Draco asked happily.
About to deny it, Charlie looked up and saw his lover's expression. Instead he said, "Of course I am. I don't want you having strong feelings for anyone except me." To his own ears he sounded petulant, but Draco looked delighted. He crossed the room and hugged Charlie.
"It's only 'cos everything always goes right for him and everybody thinks he's wonderful and I want it to be getting all the adulation. I want his life, not his body," he reassured.
"His parents are dead," Charlie argued.
"Sounds good to me!" Draco answered darkly.
"You'd have to marry Ginny," Charlie proffered, with a cheeky grin.
"Oh, all right, then. He can have the fame, I'll settle for having you instead." Draco kissed Charlie's cheek before changing tack, "We'll need really good dress robes, we have to outshine everyone else. Oh, and the best present."
"Well, we can't afford it so we can't go," Charlie said, shrugging in mock disappointment.
"Speak for yourself. The Potion Kiosk is highly profitable. I'm definitely putting you in green."
"We're both late for work now. And I haven't agreed yet," Charlie reminded him.
To avoid the chaos - and possible splinchings - caused by having hundreds of people Apparating directly to The Burrow, a Port Key system had been set up. Dressed to kill, Draco and Charlie Apparated to their designated location at their designated time. Draco groaned when he recognised the two ushers appointed to organise this Port Key. Which was nothing compared to the dismay of the two young men when they saw him.
"What are you doing here?" one of them spluttered.
"I am virtually family, Longbottom," Draco drawled, "unlike you. How sad and yet predictable that she preferred the Boy Who Lived to you."
"Actually, I'm engaged! To Hannah Abbott!" Neville responded, defensively.
"Doesn't ring a bell. A fellow nonentity, no doubt? I do hope you've managed to scrape into some boring menial job to enable you to eventually support this unmemorable woman of yours," Draco sneered coolly.
"I start teaching Herbology in September, actually," Neville replied, attempting the same level of reserve.
"At Hogwarts?" Draco curled his lip. "Standards really have slipped. I'm so glad I completed my education elsewhere," he lied smoothly. This was all coming very easily. He was aware of Charlie's silence behind him.
The other young man had used the exchange to regain his composure and now stepped forward to attack with, "I hear you're taking it up the arse these days, Malfoy."
Quite unruffled, Draco responded, "Whereas you, Finnegan, aren't getting any at all."
"Fuck off! What do you know?" snapped Seamus.
"Still waiting for your favourite Muggle-born to notice you, are you? I do hope we'll see him today, I'm sure Mr Thomas will look dashing in dress robes."
His composure utterly lost now, Seamus practically shouted, "I'm not the fucking bum boy!"
"Through lack of opportunity rather than lack of motivation," Draco countered, just as another group of guests arrived. Seamus and Neville scampered off to greet them, leaving Draco with the last word. Shame-faced, he turned to face Charlie, who stood silently with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow.
"I'm sorry you saw that," Draco said, "We were at school together. I reverted."
Charlie answered, "If that's what you were like at school then I can see why no-one likes you. You're a complete bitch!"
"I promise to be nice to your family," Draco said repentantly.
"That includes Harry."
Draco ground his teeth. "Does it? OK."
Then Charlie released the grin he'd been holding.
Draco chuckled, asking, "Did it turn you on?"
"Just a bit," Charlie admitted.
The garden had been magically extended and decorated in white and gold. There were white marquees and gold parasols over wrought-iron tables painted white and gold; there was a gold lion-shaped fountain and later there would be colour-coordinated fireworks. It was all decorated with huge hearts circling entwining 'H's and 'G's. And everywhere there were flowers: lilies, yellow roses and giant daisies. Hermione thought that it was all a bit too much and so was the puffy meringue of a dress Ginny was squeezing into.
Hermione sat at the window of Ginny's bedroom and let Fleur get on with the hair and make-up. It was more her thing. When she'd asked Ginny why Fleur was her matron-of-honour, Ginny had answered, "She's seven months pregnant: all that bad skin and water retention. It's the only chance I'll ever have to look prettier than her."
Pinned to the dressing table by gallic attention to detail, Ginny kept asking Hermione questions like "What's Harry wearing?", "How does it all look?" (Hermione lied politely), "How many photographers?" and, with increasing regularity and urgency, "Where's Luna?" Luna was the other bridesmaid. They'd spent hours worrying about whether she'd customised her dress and how they could remove her jewellery. Now Ginny was just worried that she might be so late she'd miss it altogether.
Hermione stood up suddenly and leaned out of the window for a better view, "They've arrived!" she squealed.
"The Lovegoods?" Ginny asked.
"No. Charlie. With Malfoy."
"What do they look like?" Ginny wanted to know.
"Really tasteful outfits. Coordinated but not the same. Creams and greens. Both got shoulder-length hair now …"
"That's not what I meant! Do they look happy? Uncomfortable? In love? Confunded?" Ginny demanded desperately. Fleur held her head still and inserted another hair pin.
"They're on the other side of the garden! How should I … ? Uh oh, Bill's approaching them."
"'E will be'ave impeccably," Fleur said firmly.
"I can't see your Dad, Ginny. How do you think he's going to react? Oh God, Ron's spotted them. Bill's shaking Malfoy's hand and now he's embracing Charlie. Hagrid's waylaid Ron. Oh, Luna's here! She's got her feet in the fountain!"
"It's lovely to meet you, Bill. Would you excuse me, I've just seen someone I need to speak to?" said Draco, leaving the two Weasley brothers together and hurrying across the lawn. And then he stopped, standing behind a head as blonde as his own, preparing himself.
"Hello Luna," he said.
She turned her head and, to his relieved surprise, she smiled.
"Hello Draco," she replied, swinging her bare feet over the lip of the fountain and standing in front of him, "I'm so glad you're here."
He smiled back and replied, "So am I. And I'm glad you're here because I've been wanting to talk to you for a long time. You look lovely, by the way, most people can't wear gold, but it suits you."
"I'm a bridesmaid. What did you want to say?" she asked in her usual, direct manner.
Draco became aware that there were a lot of people around, some of them watching, possibly listening. Fair enough. Perhaps this needed to be public.
He started bravely enough, "I have felt awful about the time you …" he faltered, losing the words, losing courage, " when you were … at my parents' place. In the cellar. I wanted to … for there to be something I could do. I didn't do anything. I wanted to apologise."
"It wasn't your fault," she stated, "and you did do something."
"No, I just cowered and obeyed orders," he admitted.
"We were all scared. But you defied Voldemort. That was brave. Thank you for refusing to rape me."
Draco couldn't believe what she'd said: couldn't believe that she'd known, that she'd said the word, that she'd been so open in front of so many people. There was a frozen silence, in which only Luna seemed comfortable.
Eventually he just asked, "How did you know?"
As if it were the most normal thing in the world, Luna replied, "Voldemort kept telling me it was going to happen. I was too scared to sleep. He said it would be you and it would be brutal. But you never came."
"I thought he'd just get someone else …" Draco couldn't finish the sentence.
"No. Nobody else. Were you punished?" she asked with such concern that he could hardly believe it.
"I thought I would be, but …" he stopped speaking as an awful realisation, his most terrible memory, came to him. He lost the abilities to talk, focus, move. Of course. And the punishment had been both appropriate and disproportional. How very like the Dark Lord. Carrow hadn't been lying, he had had orders.
He flinched as he felt an arm go around him, but it was Charlie's and he relaxed. A lot of people were staring at him.