Bitter Chocolate - (A 'Veronica Weasley' sequel) || Draco Malfoy

36 - The Birthday Boy

I arrived outside the church and was instantly blinded by an onslaught of flashing lights.

"And here we have the infamous Veronica Weasley, also known as the Wicked Witch of the West Country."

A microphone was shoved in my face.

"Veronica, would you say this title is a fair assessment of you?"

"FUCK OFF!"

I angrily brushed the reporters arm aside and stormed down the red carpet which I could only assume Harry had the vicar lay down especially for the event.

What a complete fucktard.

"And next to arrive is the delectable Draco Malfoy looking very much in love with his future wife Bambi Peverell, despite the recent rumours of infidelity."

My heart stilled as I turned around to see Draco, indeed looking delectable in an all black suit, white-blond hair sat tousled just right over his sharp, handsome features.

Bambi was smiling next to him as he placed a hand on the small of her back. She was looking stunning in a dazzling yellow dress which lit up her eyes. I had to admit, they made every inch the gorgeous couple.

"They're just rumours," Draco announced into the microphone. "I trust my fiancée one hundred percent."

"Despite the fact that she was seen photographed in an extremely intimate manner with your best friend?" The reporter asked Draco, as if Bambi wasn't even standing there.

"What can I say," Draco answered, giving the reporter a sly grin that made his eyes twinkle, "we are all very close. Even I've been known to indulge in the occasional bro hug with Blaise."

A sound of laughter rose up in the air as Draco won over the surrounding photographers and reporters.

Fucking smooth git. He literally would do anything for approval. It was fucking pathetic.

I turned back around before either of them would notice me and quickly escaped into the church.

"Ah, Ronnie," Harry beamed, wearing white billowing robes that would rival the vicar's, welcoming me with open arms. "So glad you could make it."

"Harry, why are you dressed like fucking Jesus?" I asked, frowning at him as I shoved the gift bag in his hand.

"Oh, didn't I mention?" He said blinking at me nonplussed from behind those stupid glasses. "I'm going to be conducting the service."

"But you're not a fucking vicar!" I cried.

"The big bag of gold currently sat in the priest's office says otherwise," Harry winked conspiratorially.

My fucking god, my nephew was going to hell.

And I realised, with a dawning horror, that this meant the christening was going to go on for fucking hours whilst Harry made it all about how he heroically saved the world.

I spotted George sat at the back of the church, looking forlorn and alone in the back pew. It hurt me to see him without Fred. I just couldn't get used to it.

"Hey," I said quietly, "mind if I sit?"

He looked up, his face looking gaunt and tired. Grief had aged him, making him almost unrecognisable from the boy he had once been: a twin.

"Sure, Ronnie," he mumbled hoarsely, as if he hadn't used his voice in a long while.

I wanted to bring up his birthday, but I was terrified of how he would react. He already looked so broken.