Cassiopeia Lily Malfoy (Harry X Draco)

Chapter 10

In the days leading up to the wedding, Draco was never around.

I'm trying to make sense of all the damaged potions stock, he wrote.

"I take it you don't want to go on a honeymoon?" asked Haary, the one time they successfully met up. If Draco's eyes could have popped out of his skull, they would have.

"Good grief!"

"I think it's a great idea," chimed in Cassie. "Can we go to Verdun? I'd like to see the German trenches."

"That's a bit morbid for a honeymoon, Cass," said Harry.

"We're not going on a honeymoon!" said Draco. "Christ alive!"

Every day, Harry sent Draco a new gift. Every day, Draco answered him with a thank you letter, sometimes short and hurried (Do you have any idea how hard it is to procure fresh shrivelfigs when it's not a leap year? Thanks for the dressing gown, I'm wearing it now.) and sometimes longer and rambling (...so, yes, I did end up using some of the coins from the stupid wallet you gave me which I love, by the way, the green snakeskin lining was a thoughtful touch-and so if it was some sort of stupid test to see if I would resist, then I failed. It was only on groceries, anyway. And also fuck you for setting tests! Unless you didn't, and I sound like a crazy person right now. Actually, I haven't been sleeping, so I do feel a little crazy. Cass says I look as if I aged thirty years while I was in custody. Isn't she a charmer? She's sitting next to me now, colouring in a battleship. Who makes battleship colouring books? What sort of mad, jingoistic propaganda is she submitting herself to? Anyway, she is sticking her tongue out a bit as she concentrates, which is something you used to do when you worked in the library at school. I love her I love her. Fucking hell, I didn't mean to write any of that...).

Whatever Draco wrote, it was always so undeniably Draco-ish that Harry felt like he was there, sitting next to him, listening to Draco griping about Cassie and potions and Cassie again. And it was good, reassuring, to know that Draco sent the letters, even when he felt he had revealed too much of himself in them.

On Saturday morning, Harry was struck by a sudden fear that this was all a terrible idea. The Burrow was splendidly decorated. It looked just as it had for Bill and Fleur's wedding, and Harry wandered round the with his hands in his dress robe pockets, trying to decide how he felt.

Concerned, primarily, he decided. Not for himself, but for Draco, who had wanted to marry for love.

He sent a patronus looking for him. A few minutes later, a great silver bear came pacing towards him.

"I'll come find you," it said, in Draco's voice.

Draco appeared shortly after. He was wearing the grey robes Harry had given him. The effect was not diminished.

"A bear?" asked Harry.

"I think it's a polar bear," said Draco.

"They're protective of their young, I guess." And cold, and beautiful, and endangered, he did not add.

"You sounded panicked in your message, "said Draco.

"Just... are you sure you want to do this?"

Draco clenched his jaw.

"Fuck's sake," he muttered. "Fine, we can call it off. But I wish you'd had your cold feet earlier, Goyle had to buy a portkey specially."

"I don't want to call it off," said Harry. "I just..." he took a step closer to Draco. "I keep thinking about Stanislaus, honestly."

"Jealous, Potter?" smirked Draco.

"No! But. I don't want to stand in the way of you finding a real relationship."