Drarry Oneshots 2

If Wishes Were Children

Top!Harry

Bottom!Draco

Summary: Harry Potter has tried to move on after his affair with Draco Malfoy ended abruptly, but it's been hard. Then, on a joyous day at the Burrow, Narcissa Malfoy unexpectedly appears....

Author:  oldenuf2nb (on live journal) 

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It was a perfect day for a wedding.

The sky was blue, the fields radiating from the ramshackle dwelling that was the Weasley ancestral home were the new, fresh green of early spring, and there was a fragrant breeze that lifted the scent of the riotous banks of blooming flowers and spread it gently through the milling crowd. Laughter lifted on the same breeze: laughter and cheery greetings and the sounds of happy children. In fact, the scene was so utterly festive and perfectly blissful that it gave Narcissa Malfoy the beginnings of a rather nasty headache.

She stood on the rise looking down the dirt road at the monstrosity that Arthur Weasley called a house, clutching a rough wooden fencepost for support, her feet aching, and her body weary. Never had she experienced such an exhausting and lowering experience as she'd just endured to get to this ruddy, filthy little corner of Britain, and now, it seemed it had all been for naught.

For at the centre of the merry little throng before her, standing with his arm around what had to be the youngest Weasley (who else would have such dreadful hair?), dressed nattily in stylish formal dress robes and sporting a white flower in his lapel, was the man she'd sought. It didn't take even her vast intellect to put the pieces together. He was wearing formal robes, the chit was in an appallingly plain but clearly significant white gown and holding a bouquet of daisies of all things, and they looked the picture of newly wedded bliss. And for a moment, Narcissa was nearly overcome with the desire to sink to her knees, right there in the dusty road, and howl with grief. He was married, and she was too late.

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"Here you go, Harry," Neville Longbottom said cheerily as he approached with two glasses of champagne in his hand. He held one out and Harry took it from him with a subdued smile.

"Thanks, Nev," Harry Potter answered, the smile that curled his lips not quite reaching his eyes. The Man Who'd Vanquished Voldemort lifted the glass to his mouth and took a sip, his eyes moving warily over the crowd. They were holding back for the moment in deference to the occasion, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he'd find himself surrounded by women with their suggestive touches and sly smiles and men wanting to offer him a drink, all anxious to hear first hand about the heroics of the Battle of Hogwarts. He didn't want to talk about it; the war had been over for years, and he never wanted to talk about it. He avoided crowds for just that reason, but of course he had not been able to avoid today. When he felt a hand settle gently on his lapel, he turned and looked down into a pair of kind cinnamon brown eyes.

"Are you all right?" Ginny asked softly, concern apparent on her pretty freckled face, and he felt a tendril of guilt sneak through him. She should not be worrying about him, not today of all days. He forced a smile and covered the hand on his chest with one of his, squeezing gently.

"I'm fine," he said bluffly, but she narrowed her eyes. She was too smart by half, and he didn't fool her a bit. "Really, Gin," he said firmly. "I'm fine. And you shouldn't be worrying about me today at any rate. Here." He squeezed her hand one last time and stepped back, gesturing for Neville. "Get in here next to your wife, Nev. People are getting confused about just who the groom is."

There was scatted good-natured laughter from those nearby.

When the Battle of Hogwarts had been relegated to the history books, and the dead had been buried and mourning had begun, Ginny had come to Harry, all tears and apologies to tell him that during his absence she'd fallen quite helplessly in love with Neville Longbottom. At first, Harry had been a bit hurt, but upon reflection he'd realized that he was not as hurt as he should have been, had he actually been in love with the pretty Ginevra. That gave him pause.