Dramione Collaboration

A Witch's Wedding: Processional

"It's just a wedding, Mother," Draco said in a bored voice when his mother stepped back and studied the way his cloak was draped over his shoulders for the eighth time, her eyes suspiciously shiny. "You've attended dozens. There's no reason to be emotional."

Narcissa's gaze flashed piercingly as she looked up at him. Her expression was calm, but there was a burning intensity in her blue eyes, and a tiny scrap of lace gripped tightly in her left hand.

"I doubt I'll be the only one crying today." She raised an eyebrow. "Your father cried so much, we had to stop in the middle of the vows so he could compose himself."

Draco rolled his eyes and looked away, jaw tensing. "I'm not my father, " he said, his voice clipped.

Narcissa's mouth pursed and she turned her attention to straightening his boutonnière and adjusting the placement of his cloak for the ninth time.

Draco sighed and forced himself to endure it. "You've managed to plan the entire affair down to the millisecond. If the stress of spending an hour discussing whether the napkins should be champagne, cream, ivory, or alabaster didn't break me, I doubt that standing in place, smiling on cue, and reciting lines will have any effect whatsoever."

His mother gave a small, disdainful sniff that was loud enough that Draco knew he was intended to hear it. He refrained from rolling his eyes as he turned to stare at the enchanted mirror in front of him.

"Lovely, lovely," the mirror crooned at him.

He ignored the simpering that began emanating from the glass as he studied his reflection. It was understandable why his mother was emotional. Draco could see his deceased father in his face. The same narrow features and grey eyes. Draco always made a point of keeping his hair carefully short. However, as he stared at his reflection, dressed in traditional wedding robes, he couldn't deny that if their wedding portraits were placed side by side, Lucius Malfoy and he could have been twins.

Draco turned away from the mirror, running his thumb over the heavy Malfoy signet ring on his right index finger.

"I'll go check on the bride, " he heard his mother say.

The ceremony would take place outside. Draco could see the pergola from the window, wreathed in flowers and only a dozen yards away. The guests were already there, mingling and beginning to seat themselves.

His chest tightened and his fingers curled into a tight fist.

The excessive quantity of planning and traditionalism was enough to drive any wizard mad. He forced his hand opened and turned away, looking for a distraction.

The door clicked. Draco glanced over his shoulder to see Theo, perfectly pressed, with a sly smile on his thin face.

"Cold feet? Any second thoughts? As Best Man, it's my duty to provide whatever services I can. I brought my Firebolt 8000 if you need a quick getaway."

Draco fixed Theo with a cold glare. "Fuck off."

Theo waggled his eyebrows. "You know what you remind me of right now?"

Draco did not know, nor did he wish to. He was beginning to keenly wish he'd chosen someone else as Best Man. Even Weasley would be preferable.

"Sixth year," Theo said. "When you were walking around acting like everything was fine, and then having an emotional breakdown every night in bed."

Draco rolled his jaw and tried to ignore him.

Theo was grinning like a madman. "You mum slipped this me," he extracted a familiar, lacy handkerchief from his sleeve with an elaborate flourish, "in case you need it during the ceremony."