Always

Chapter One

Fourteen months after Dear Mr. Potter

Twenty-two years ago...

Harry was incredibly nervous as he straightened his shirt again. It felt like the collar was tightening and making him choke, but the laces were loose and the waistcoat over it was fine. But he couldn't help but continue to fidget.

"If you keep pulling at it, it will fray and Draco may just have a conniption in the aisle."

Harry glared at Snape. "Well, it'll be his fault, won't it? I told him I didn't want to wear this. It's... I feel like a right prat!"

Snape raised an eyebrow and watched Harry fidget again in nervousness. "It would not be a Malfoy wedding if you were not wearing the correct traditional attire." He looked down at his own suit of traditional robes, all in black and grey. "It's only for a day, Potter. Suck it up."

Harry glared and pulled at the collar of his shirt again while pacing the small anteroom. He was getting married today. Sweet Merlin! He was only eighteen! He couldn't do this! Not at all! He looked at the door and Snape moved in front of it.

"If you had misgivings before, you should have voiced them. I will not allow you to create a scandal in which I would be named," Snape said in a dry voice.

"I can't do this!" Harry burst out, his hands flailing in agitation. "I can't! I'm only eighteen! How can I make this big a commitment!?"

Snape watched him and then said firmly, "Do you have a choice?"

Those words brought Harry up short. He turned and stared at the older man.

"Potter, you made the choice to accept what you are. You made the choice to stay with Draco. Will you run at the last moment before making it lawful and legal and all that other rubbish?"

Harry looked down at his hands, which were partially covered in the lace cuffs from his shirt. "But... this is marriage!" he nearly whined.

"And you think that wizard's law has more finality to it than nature? You are already Draco's of your own choosing and giddy happiness. You nearly make us all sick with your doe eyes at him," Snape groused. "Is stating it formally that much more permanent?"

"Yes!"

Rolling his eyes, Snape crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "I am escorting you to your wedding, Mr. Potter. That is my charge. What you do once you get there is your affair."

Harry frowned and turned to look through the window. He had been surprised when Draco had chosen to have their wedding in a beautiful old Victorian mansion in London. Harry had thought for sure he'd have to be married under Lucius' roof. But this building was apparently quite popular for weddings and Harry liked that it was open and airy. The ceremony was going to take place in the formal garden at the back of the house. The room he was in was at the side and he could not see the tent and chairs. But the flowers were in bloom everywhere, fresh and bright in a canvas of snow on that clear February morning. In the distance he could hear people's voices and music. He wondered where Draco was. He didn't want to hurt Draco or make him angry, but he was terrified of what was going to happen in just a matter of moments. He couldn't imagine getting married! What did that mean? Up until that morning it had all been a strange and fuzzy idea. But when he had woken, the reality of it was as cutting as a knife.

There was a tap at the door and Snape motioned to Harry. "It's time, Potter."

The portraits, vases, and garlands of flowers were all a blur as Snape manoeuvred Harry through the large house and out into the garden, which had been shovelled clean of snow. He could feel warming charms in the air that prevented everyone from looking like steam-breathing dragons and afforded the ability to wear a light dress cloak if a person so chose.