Title: The Well 21/?
Author: eidheann
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~800 (~16,000 total)
Summary: Where there is a wish...
Warnings: angst.
A/N: Many thanks for the comments and support. As is probably obvious to those reading, the end is swiftly approaching. I'm keeping the final chapter count as ? just because it's always somewhat uncertain how much I'm able to progress the story each day. Could be 2 more parts, could be 5.

Draco thought about telling Pansy that he'd invited Potter to her wedding. He thought about it on Saturday while he carefully kept from rolling her eyes at her panic and tears while her wedding robes were let out at the waist. He thought about it on Sunday, while repeatedly telling her no, the florist didn't have enough roses to change her mind again. He thought about it Monday while enjoying a blissfully stress-free dinner filled with nothing more complicated than gossip about Daphne's newest conquest, rumored to be royalty from a small, sunny Mediterranean nation.

It never seemed the right moment. Either Pansy was too stressed, and he rather wanted to pass the day not being hexed, thank you, or things were going too well and he hesitated to break the peace. In the end, he didn't tell her, he decided it was probably safest to let her find out when she was distracted by more important things and less likely to raise a fuss. He also thought about telling Harry that Pansy didn't know, but it didn't seem the type of thing he could say in an owl, and between his training and hand-holding for Pansy, he wouldn't be seeing Harry until they met at his flat to floo together to Pansy's.

***

Friday arrived much more quickly than Draco anticipated. He spent over an hour in front of the mirror, telling himself it was because he wanted to look good for his best friend, not Harry, but still didn't feel ready when his doorbell rang at 4 and Lippy let Harry into his study. He looked very good, dressed in well-fitting formal robes and his hair tousled in a way that appeared intentional for once. Draco had to swallow around a suddenly dry mouth as he watched Harry's own gaze linger considerably south of his face.

"Um, Potter?" His voice came out as a squeak, and he swallowed again in effort to maintain a more normal tone. "There's something I need to tell you before we go."

Harry leaned against the couch and cocked an eyebrow, smirking at Draco's discomfort. "What's that?"

"Er, Pansy doesn't actually know I'm bringing you to the wedding."

Harry blinked and straightened, his expression going from smug to nearly panicked in a moment. "You didn't tell Parkinson that you're bringing me to her wedding? She'll kill me. And you."

"Yes, well, I never had the chance between all the panicking she was doing." He knew he sounded defensive and hated it. "I meant to, but suddenly it was Friday and she still didn't know. I just wanted to warn you. I mean, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, she's going to be very distracted. She may not even notice you're there."

Harry's face told him just how weak his last statement sounded. "She may not notice I'm there. Brilliant. I'm going to spend the rest of my life hexed into something unpleasant." He raised his hand to run it through his hair but caught it just in time, lowering it with effort. "If you wanted me out of your life for good, there are better ways than getting me dead."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest tightly and mumbled, "I don't want you out of my life for good, idiot."

"Wait, what?" The shock on Harry's face would have been amusing if it wasn't so out of place.

"Oh come off it, Potter. I'm dragging you, at great personal risk, to my best friend's wedding. It's hardly a complicated murder plot if it's more likely to end me up on the wrong side of her wand... Why did you think I was doing it?" He sat back down in his chair with a flop, heedless of wrinkles, and resisted the urge to pull his knees up as well.

Harry knelt down, tugging Draco's arms down from his chest. "Hey, none of that. I'm an idiot, remember?" He clasped Draco's hands tightly and beamed up at him, tugging him closer. "Thank you. Thank you." The feel of Harry's lips on his, firm and smooth, was a rush so familiar and missed that tears filled his eyes, overflowing and filling his senses with the taste of salt and mint and Harry. He was overwhelmed, and wanted nothing more than to pull closer, to climb into his arms and never leave. He was vaguely aware of Harry's thumbs brushing his cheeks, of his own hands clutching Harry's robes, his legs parting, pulling him closer.

He wasn't certain how much time had passed beyond his brain screaming out 'not enough' when he heard the sound of Lippy popping into the room. "I's sorry, Master Draco, Sir! Master Harry Potter, Sir! Lippy is sorry but Sirs is going to be late!"

Blinking blearily at the elf, who was wringing her hands and pulling her ears and looking everywhere but at their tangle of limbs, he shook his head and pushed Harry back enough to breathe and settle his thoughts. "Oh fuck, the wedding..." Harry groaned in response, burying his head in Draco's neck.