Harry Potter and the Destiny of Prophecies - 11. Chapter 11

“Kreacher, settle down. I’m sure the house is in order for visitors.” Harry ordered the nearly frantic house elf. The ancient thing stopped its harangue of the Auror at Harry’s command and slinked off. Harry turned his attention to the Auror, who’s hair was more gray than it had been when they first met.

“Auror Shacklebolt.” Harry recognized him in a firm voice. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Ministry business, Mr. Potter.’ Shacklebolt said formally. The other four Aurors were standing there, shuffling a little. “I’m sure you’ve seen this morning’s Daily Prophet?”

“Yes, we have.” Harry said firmly. “Quite upsetting to be stabbed in the back so publicly.”

“Yes, well, the Minister has requested that we search the library of Black Manor so that we can publicly denounce the accusations as false.” The Auror said a little more softly.

“And you didn’t see fit to inform us when you knew we were at Malfoy Manor?” Draco drawled imperiously.

“It was felt best not to bother you.” Shacklebolt replied, looking down slightly. That told Harry he half-believed the accusations.

“Well, let us proceed to the library.” Harry said with a small smile. “The sooner this is done with the sooner we can get back to Malfoy Manor.”

The Auror nodded, and Harry led the way to the library. They hadn’t been here ever since rescuing Morag. That thought sent a jolt of fear through Harry. He remembered that night clearly, and one important fact was foremost in his mind: He hadn’t replaced the cover of the Oath Stone! He almost panicked right then, but they were already mere feet from the door, and Harry couldn’t think of anything to delay them or get away so that he could replace the damn thing! Draco was rambling on about nuisances before their wedding and damn lying scum as he opened the door for the Aurors. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when the library was revealed to look exactly as it should.

Warm furniture was set around the room, and in the middle was a rich mahogany cabinet with a bust of Sirius Black resting on top. Harry held in the sigh of relief. Kreacher must have fixed everything after they had left that night. But that left the question of how Ron knew about the whole thing.

“What’s in the cabinet?” Shacklebolt’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“It’s my…monument to Sirius.” Harry said sadly. “There’s some mementos from the man I keep there.”

“I see.” Shacklebolt said softly. “How do you open it?”

“It requires a drop of my blood to open.” Harry said softly. “I don’t open it much.”

“That explains the…feel of the magic on it.” Shacklebolt said, looking back at his team of Aurors who just shook their heads. “We apologize for the intrusion, Mr. Potter. Thank you for your cooperation.”

With that, the Aurors all turned and left with Draco showing them out. Kreacher appeared as soon as they were gone, wringing his hands nervously. He looked up at Harry like he expected to be punished.

“Did Kreacher do right in fixing the library back?” Kreacher asked.

“Kreacher did perfect.” Harry acknowledged with a smile.

“Oh, Kreacher is so happy!” The elf cried out, dancing a bit. “Kreacher wasn’t sure when Masters left the other night. Then Mr. Weasley appeared and said Masters wanted him to stay. He went to the library and left the house laughing.”

“When was this?” Harry asked sharply.

“Two days ago.”

“I see.” Harry said slowly. “Kreacher, from now on, Mr. Ronald Weasley is not welcome in my home. If we ever leave this room uncovered again, you are to fix it up immediately. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Master!” Kreacher quailed. “Oh, Kreacher shouldn’t have let nasty Weasley inside. Kreacher must punish himself!”

“Just make sure you do no lasting harm.” Harry said. “You must look presentable for guests at all times.”

“Yes, Master!” The elf said before disappearing. Draco came back and fumed about their carelessness after Harry had shared the news of how Ron had discovered the Oath Stone. There wasn’t much either could do about it though, so they left to return to Malfoy Manor. A quick conversation with Lucius earned them a lecture about being careful in the future and then they went outside for another match of Quidditch. The game seemed to calm them both down.

All that calmness was gone, though, when dinner was finished. Harry and Draco were in one of the Malfoy Manor sitting rooms. A warm fire was roaring in the fireplace, expensive furniture filled the room, and five seats sat waiting to be used. Harry had no desire to sit down at the moment, and even less desire to be in the room. He was pacing back and forth, while Draco stood near the closed door, watching him anxiously.

“Harry, you can do this.” Draco said after Harry had let out a growl.

“I know I can do this!” Harry nearly shouted, giving voice to what he was feeling at last. “That’s never been in doubt! The thing I’m thinking is do I want to do this?”

“I know it’s not going to be easy.” Draco said comfortingly, moving to where Harry stood, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders and facing him directly. “But by Tradition we can’t refuse to be hospitable.”

“Fuck tradition.” Harry snarled. When Draco had said that word, he’d said it in a way that made the capital letter clear.

“So, fuck marrying me as well?” Draco said in a voice that told Harry he was hurt.

“I…I didn’t mean it like that.” Harry said, taken aback.

“You didn’t mean it like that, but that’s what you said.” Draco replied, still facing Harry directly. Harry was finding himself lost in those silver-gray eyes. “The Malfoy family stands for Tradition. It is part of who we are, all of us. My father has renounced following Voldemort because of Tradition, he gives us his support now because of Tradition. When you say ‘fuck tradition’ you are saying you don’t want us, any of us.”

“I want you, Draco.” Harry whispered, letting his pain show in his voice.

“Then do this, please, for me.” Draco whispered back.

“Okay.” Harry sighed, leaning in for a kiss, but there was a sound at the door, and Draco moved quickly so that he was standing on Harry’s right side as the door opened. Lucius had opened it himself, but it was the figure dressed in dark robes, and burning eyes that was the center of Harry’s attention at the moment. Harry’s entire body was screaming to pull out the wand he wore and blast the thing that stood before him. Instead, he pushed all that down for Draco, smiled and took four steps forward, extending his hand.

“Glad you could make it to the wedding, Tom.” Harry said, suppressing a shudder as his oldest enemy took his hand in a polite grip, those red eyes scanning him carefully. Harry knew that his scar was shrieking in pain, but his Occlumensy shields, and the charms he’d placed before hand, allowed him not to feel it. A little corner of his mind noted that Voldemort’s hands felt like dried, crusty parchment that was about to fall to dust.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Harry.” Voldemort’s voice grated on Harry’s every fiber, but he refused to shiver.

“Why don’t we all have a seat.” Harry said, motioning towards the five chairs and the tea service in the middle. Voldemort, as the guest, was the first to sit. Lucius took the chair to his right, and Narcissa sat on the other side of Lucius. In a last second change, Harry took the seat on the other side of Voldemort so that Draco would sit next to his mother. His message was quite clear, any attempt, ever, on Draco, would have to go through Harry.

“How was your journey?” Lucius asked their visitor as Narcissa began pouring tea, fixing it to each person’s preferences.

“Tiring.” Voldemort hissed, in what was almost a conversational tone. As Narcissa handed Voldemort his tea, followed by serving Lucius, Harry, Draco and then herself, a sense of surrealism fell on Harry.

He was drinking tea with Voldemort, and having a civil conversation.

“Really?” Narcissa asked in a honey-sweet voice.

“Yes, most unfortunately.” Voldemort answered, a grim smile spreading across his face. “An old injury, you understand. Makes traveling long distances a trifle…tiresome.”

Harry smiled at the man widely.

“So, young Harry, have you given any thoughts to your future after Hogwarts?” Voldemort asked, his voice polite in the extreme.

“Oh, let’s see.” Harry said, raising his tea cup to his lips. Ah, it was Earl Grey, his favorite. “First there’s the matter of settling an old family debt, then there’s dealing with the Ministry and making sure it has its head on straight, then I think we’ll go on a bit of a vacation for a few years.”

“Indeed.” Voldemort hissed, staring hard at Harry. “You know, when I left Hogwarts I spent quite some time studying the Dark Arts and gaining power. It was a hard path without a good, strong mentor. You have many opportunities I did not.”

“I would have to have a interest in the Dark Arts for that to appeal to me.” Harry said, frowning at the very idea.

“Surely with everything you’ve been doing recently the Dark Arts haven’t become more appealing? After all, many would consider the Blood Oath a Dark Art.” Voldemort asked in that awful voice.

“Blood magic may or may not be Dark, depending on its use.” Harry said calmly, although inside he was seething. “For the use that I put it to, it was not Dark. I have no interest in your secrets, Tom.”

“Really?” Voldemort murmured, taking a sip of his tea before continuing. “Whatever will you do, though, when the Ministry searches your residence after this morning’s article?”

“They already have.” Harry said with a short chuckle. “They found nothing suspicious.”

“Lucky for you, Harry.” Voldemort hissed, and Harry detected a note of anger in the voice. The implications of those words, that maybe Ron was somehow connected to the man, made Harry a little worried.

“So, Tom,” Draco said, breaking the momentary silence following Voldemort’s last words. “How is winter in Russia?”

“Cold.” Voldemort hissed, nodding his head to Harry’s lover. “Still, North Africa is a much nicer climate this time of year.”

“Yes, it is.” Lucius broke in with a drawl of his own. “We’ve enjoyed many a winter holiday in Egypt.”

At that point the conversation turned to preferred vacation spots and memories of past vacations. It was almost pleasant, except for the fact that the man sitting not two feet from Harry was the man who had killed his parents, and who had tried to kill him many times over the past years. The sense of surrealism was still in full force and Harry found himself wondering if his life would ever be more bizarre than this moment. It was Voldemort’s voice that jarred him out of his moment of introspection.

“So, young Harry, have you considered my offer any more?” Voldemort asked him, and Harry almost jumped in surprise at the switch to a more serious topic.

“I have given it…some thought.” Harry admitted.

“But you have a difficult time trusting me, or even dealing with the thought of coming to an arrangement with the man who killed your parents, who you blame for the death of your godfather, and countless other tragic events.”

“You forgot to mention the multiple attempts to kill me directly.” Harry spat out, finally giving voice to the anger he was feeling. How dare the man even mention his parents or Sirius!

“Yes, well, such is war.” Voldemort said nonchalantly. “You never gave me a glimmer of hope that you would be anything other than my enemy. Your parents defied me several times, and I knew that being raised by them you would be nothing but an opponent. Dumbledore hid you with those muggles and then trotted you out at age eleven, the very embodiment of a Savior, and my enemy. What else was I to do? Besides, tell me honestly that if you went back in time, and stood over my crib when I was a child the same age as when we first met, would you kill me at that moment, knowing what you know now?”

“Yes, I would.” Harry admitted sourly.

“There, can you say that I did not have valid reasons for doing what I did?”

“You had reasons valid to you.” Harry said sharply. “That does not make what you did right, or anything other than murder!”

“Would killing me, as an infant in by cradle be anything other than murder?” Voldemort asked, and Harry knew the answer as clearly as he did.

“It would be murder.” Harry admitted with a soft sigh. “Justified murder, but still murder.”

“Justified to you, maybe.” Voldemort said, throwing Harry’s own words out. “But justified for my mother? For me?”

“For your father?” Harry spat back at the man, knowing it would hurt.

“Touchy.” Voldemort said with a chuckle, shaking an admonishing finger at Harry.

“Sorry.” Harry said sharply. “Sitting two feet from the murderer of my parents, and the man who’s tried to kill me all my life, has me a little on edge.”

“Apology accepted.” Voldemort said, his voice still grating on Harry. “Sitting a few feet from you is also making me a little on edge.”

“Nice to know I’m not the only one, then.” Harry said softly.

“I never expected to find you such an…adept conversationalist.” Voldemort said. “I understand that my offer, and your current situation, must have you slightly off-balance. Therefore I will make you a much less extensive offer. I offer a truce for six months, Harry Potter. For six months none of mine shall operate in Britain. None shall operate against you in any way. You will be left alone. In return, you shall not actively assist the Ministry in their hunt for me. You shall not use your skills to spy on me. Any of my marked ones you find in this land who have not already betrayed me in loyalty to you, you may do with as you please. What do you say, Harry? I have enough trained followers now to begin killing wherever we wish in Britain, and I was thinking of focusing on Muggles. I have heard of the problems you are facing from the muggle government. I do not think they will be too happy with such a development, and all of your precious training of witches and wizards will be worthless if none of them are where we strike.”

“One condition.” Harry replied after a few moments. Draco was resting his hand on Harry’s arm in a gesture of support, but also one that allowed him to tap out his opinion in their secret code. He found that he agreed with Draco’s opinion, but he had a price of his own.

“What is this…condition?” Voldemort asked.

“You brought Wormtail with you?” Harry asked calmly. Voldemort started laughing loudly.

“Yes, I did.” Voldemort said when he got his laughter under control. “The Ministry has already cleared your godfather’s name, and given you his estates, why do you wish me to turn him over to them?”

“Who said I was planning to turn him over to them?” Harry asked. Draco’s hand on his arm turned into an almost painful grip at Harry’s words. Harry just gave his blond lover a look, and he smiled as Draco calmed down.

“I will have to erase most of his recent memories for my own safety.” Voldemort said after a few moments. “But I don’t see why not. When I leave, he will remain. I will give him a sleeping potion before I leave, ensuring he has no chance of escape.”

“Then you have my agreement on a truce.” Harry said firmly. “You understand that I cannot speak for the Ministry or other government bodies, but only for me and my followers?”

“As I only speak for myself and my followers.” Voldemort said, a smile appearing on the thing he called a face. Harry lifted his arm, and they shook on the deal.

“I will give you my final answer on June 1^st.” Harry told the man. “It will be in the classified section of the Daily Prophet. A message from ‘Harry to Tom’ and will have a one word answer.”

“I look forward to seeing your answer.” Voldemort said with a nod of his head, standing as he finished speaking. He turned to Lucius and Narcissa who had been watching everything very carefully. “Narcissa, wonderful tea as always. Lucius, your hospitality is as gracious as always. If you wouldn’t mind, please show me to the rooms you have prepared for me.”

“This way, if you please.” Lucius said with a nod of his head as he rose. Narcissa also rose, as did Harry and Draco. Narcissa gave a slight, very slight, curtsey as Lucius led Harry’s enemy out. When they were gone, all three of the room’s remaining occupants let out huge sighs.

“So, how do you think he’ll react when he finds that his rooms are in the dungeons?” Draco asked, his voice full of amusement.

“He will get your father’s message loud and clear.” Narcissa told her son a little reprovingly. “He will also have nothing to complain about. The rooms were transfigured to be comfortable, even if they are in the dungeons. Quite well done, Harry.”

“Thank you.” Harry told her politely, lost in thought as he stared at the door where Voldemort and Lucius had exited. His mind was making plans for Peter Pettigrew, plans that were becoming very, very appealing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Right now Harry.” Arthur Weasley’s voice reflected the nervousness that Harry was feeling. Harry didn’t react immediately to the man’s comments, instead staring out of the window for another moment, delaying what was to come in a very short period of time. The light snow fall outside didn’t obscure the wedding festivities taking place on the back side of Malfoy Manor.

Two magical domes, one of which included the back doors of the Manor, protected those under them from the cold, wet snow. He knew that inside those domes it was warm and dry, with those inside them enjoying themselves since early this morning. One dome was for the entertainment area, where the reception after the wedding would take place. Currently it was being used to entertain the children of their guests with magical rides, face painting, and a whole slew of jugglers and several witch entertainers, whom were currently throwing balls of fire at each other.

The other dome covered the actual area where the wedding would be held. Already, two hours before the wedding itself, two hundred people were milling around, greeting each other, or just staring at those they didn’t like. The whole assembly was a riot of colors as everyone dressed in the best robes they could find. He could even see several photographers moving around, the bright purple flashes of their cameras going off constantly. With a groan, Harry turned away from the window and faced Mr. Weasley, who was dressed in a very nice set of dark gold dress robes that clashed horribly with his red hair.

“Right then.” The man said with a wide grin as Harry turned to face him. “Let’s get you down to the dressing room.”

“Maybe it’s not too late.” Harry muttered.

“Now Harry!” Mr. Weasley cried out in mock shock. “I am not going to let your little bout of cold knees affect the happiest day of your life!”

“Oh, I get to kill Voldemort after all? And it’s cold feet, not knees.” Harry asked, his eyes suddenly gleaming.

“Now, Harry.” Mr. Weasley said firmly. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but you’re the one who decided to marry a Malfoy, not me. Oh, I know it’s feet. Just trying to cheer you up, old boy.”

“Thanks, Arthur.” Harry said glumly. “Let’s get this over with.”

Together they exited the room Harry had run to after he’d gotten into an argument with Draco. They were both extremely tense and had been arguing over everything since they woke up, so Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had decided to separate them. Lucius, Narcissa, Severus, and Tonks as the ‘parents’ had been stuck in the entry way all day welcoming guests and making sure everything was in place and ready for the day’s events. The two oldest Weasleys had arrived with the rest of their family (except Ron and Percy of course) early in the morning and immediately taken charge of the two young men.

Harry and Arthur finally arrived on the ground floor, where the rest of his attending party waited for him. The Malfoy family had insisted on the fully traditional wedding, and even here in private, with none of them present, their wishes were being followed to the full letter of bloody Tradition. As bloody Tradition required, there were seven people in his attending party. They’d be responsible for the ‘dressing’ for the actual ceremony, and would accompany him to the dais where the wedding would actually be performed.

“Honestly, Mr. Weasley.” Seamus Finnegan said as they entered the room. “Which one of your ancestors do you have to thank for that color of formal robes?”

“Old Mandamus Weasley was quite color blind, thank you very much.” Mr. Weasley said with a sniff. “Still, he was a nice old bugger and no one in the family has the gumption to change the official Weasley colors. He stuck around you know, and no one wants his ghost to hear about such a change. He might decide to stop haunting the Mursley family and come haunt us.”

Everyone laughed at that, and Harry felt a little better. Then Colin had to break the mood by bemoaning the absence of his camera. He’d made a fortune (and eventually paid Draco a portion of his royalties) from his pictures of Harry’s battle with Voldemort, and was clearly upset that he was losing more money now. Since he was a part of the wedding party, he wasn’t allowed to take pictures.

Harry almost decided to tell the guy that was the reason why Harry had picked him as part of the group.

Instead, Harry just sighed as Fred and George came up to him, and began taking off the robe he was wearing. This was part of the tradition. He wasn’t allowed to dress or undress himself, and even had to take bath attended by the group. After much discussion, he’d chosen his group completely from Gryffindor, while Draco had chosen his completely from Slytherin. Hermione and Ginny finally entered from a side room where the bath was located and told them that it was ready. Hermione was waddling badly and Harry hoped that her baby would come out soon, but not before the ceremony was finished.

Oh wait, if she went into labor then maybe they’d have to delay the wedding.

Now totally nude, and blushing at the appraising looks given to him by Hermione and Ginny, he followed the twins into the bathroom and got into the rose and lily scented water. There were actual flower petals floating in it! He blushed even more as they started washing him, growling at Draco. This was all Draco’s fault. Harry had never had anyone do this to him before and it was embarrassing.

“Geez, Ginny,” Fred was saying lightly. “You should have tried harder for Harry!”

“Yeah, look at that package!” George added, as everyone laughed at Harry’s blush.

“Oh please.” Seamus said as he scrubbed Harry’s back. “I’m the one who should have tried harder.”

“Seamus…” Harry growled warningly as the young man’s hand seemed to drop a little too far down Harry’s back.

“Oh, please.” Seamus said again. “Like I want Draco turning me into a gnat and then squashing me for touching his Harry boy.”

“Now, now, Harry.” Arthur chided from the doorway, a look of amusement on his face. “Be nice to your friends. You could have just had a nice quiet wedding.”

“Not with Draco.” Harry muttered, and everyone laughed.

“Exactly, so is he worth all this?” Hermione asked as the laughter died down.

“Of course.” Harry sighed, getting a round of ‘awwww” from the seven people around him. He just blushed even more.

“I saw a twitch down there!” Seamus said excitedly. “Someone say something about Draco!”

“Shut up you Irish voyeur.” Harry grumbled, again getting them to laugh. The more people laughed, the easier it became for Harry to accept the…ministrations of his friends. Still, an element of sadness came to him whenever he thought about his one friend that wasn’t here. He found he missed Ron, even though he was still angry about the betrayal of his former best friend, and he could see the same thoughts echoed in everyone’s faces except Seamus and Colin. Everyone tiptoed around even the merest hint of the youngest Weasley boy.

Tradition required a bath at least one hour long, and when that hour was up, Harry was out of that bath like a flash. Hermione’s appraising look as he stood there being dried with a towel by Seamus and Colin made him blush again, but he matched her stare until she looked away.

They dressed him slowly after moving into the other room. He was thankful for the warm fire that kept the room at a comfortable temperature. Mr. Weasley cast a spell on each piece of clothing, as Tradition required, and the group was unusually solemn as they proceeded. It had never taken him so long to get dressed before, and he grew increasingly uncomfortable by the time they put the black, flat, fur cap on his head. His robes were rich velvet, dyed in crimson, with gold embroidery. The Potter family crest was outlined with gold on his chest, complete with lion stalking around the golden chalice.

When the dressing procedure was finally done, Mr. Weasley cast the last spell and they prepared to move out. Hermione and Ginny were directly in front of him, the twins on either side, while Colin and Seamus stood side by side behind him. Mr. Weasley led the way out of the room, setting a slow, formal, pace. Everyone’s faces were quite serious as they moved towards the doorways that would lead out to the ceremony area.

Their timing was perfect, Harry saw when they finally approached the entrance. Severus and Tonks were standing off to the left, waiting for them to line up in front of them. Severus gave a small nod of approval as they approached. Also perfectly timed, the group led by Mrs. Weasley, with a calm-looking Draco surrounded by his Slytherin friends, approached the waiting Lucius and Narcissa.

Behind Mrs. Weasley (who was wearing a robe in the brown and red of her maiden house) were Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Crabbe and Goyle stood on either side of Draco while Theodore Nott and Millicent Bulstrode brought up the rear. As the two groups settled in front of the four ‘parents’, everyone let out a sigh of relief. Harry managed to meet Draco’s eyes, and much of his discomfort fled at that point. Draco looked positively magnificent in the green and black Malfoy robes.

The four ‘parents’ turned and led the way out, music flaring from the live band at the back of the room. It wasn’t the traditional muggle wedding waltz, but instead a wizard song that dated back into unknown millennia. It’s strange beat set the slow pace as the wedding parties marched down the center aisle, past seats filled with scores of guests on either side. On the far side of the wide benches for the guests, tall poles held gently billowing banners. On the left, Harry’s side, they were red and gold, while on the right, Draco’s side, they were green and silver. Flowers adorned the similarly colored benches, and the swish of robes could be heard clearly as people sat after they had passed them.

It seemed like an hour before they reached the first row of benches and stopped before the dais. Harry could feel his scar burning through the charms and his Occlumensy shields, since Voldemort was sitting in the first row on Draco’s side. The Minister of Magic, sitting in the first row on Harry’s side, was staring daggers at the archenemy of the wizarding world, but managed to turn his attention to the dais as Minerva McGonagall appeared with a pop. She was dressed in robes made of pure white satin and looked quite impressive with her gray hair hanging loosely to her shoulders instead of in the typical bun.

“Step forward, parents of the intended.” She said in ringing, clear tones. Severus, Tonks, Lucius and Narcissa all stepped forward two paces and stopped. “Who speaks for Draconis Malfoy?”

“We do.” Draco’s parents said in unison.

“I, Lucius Malfoy, Head of the Malfoy Family, do speak for my son.” Lucius followed up clearly.

”I, Narcissa Malfoy, of the Black Family, do speak for my son as well.” Narcissa said in turn.

“Who speaks for Harold Potter?” McGonagall said in the same ringing tones.

“We do.” Severus and Tonks said in unison.

“I, Severus Snape, scion of the Snape line, do stand in the place of the deceased James Potter and do speak for his son, Harold Potter.” Severus Snape said in elegant tones.

“I, Nymphadora Tonks, of the Black Family, do stand in the place of Lily Evans and do speak for her son, Harold Potter.” Tonks said, and Harry mentally congratulated her for showing no dislike of her first name.

“The betrothed have completed the Engagement Trial successfully.” McGonagall said after Tonks had finished speaking. “Do you, their parents and those who stand for their parents have any final objections to this union?”

“We have no objections.” The four said in complete unison.

“Then take your seats, your time as guardians for the young couple is complete. Today they join together and begin their own family.” McGonagall said firmly. Lucius and Narcissa moved to the two empty seats on Voldemort’s left side, with Lucius actually sitting next to the man he had once called master. Severus and Tonks took their seats next to the Minister of Magic. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley moved up the five steps of the dais until they stood before the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Mr. Weasley bowed while Mrs. Weasley curtseyed, their wands in their hand.

“In accordance with tradition,” They both said in unison.

“Then let the couple approach.” McGonagall said. Those standing in front of Harry and Draco, and to their sides, moved back so that they formed a wall behind the two. Moving in carefully measured steps they ascended the dais until they stood on the step below where McGonagall waited. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley turned and took two steps backwards so that Harry and Draco were now standing directly in front of Minerva McGonagall. Harry mentally steeled himself for what was about to happen.

“Let nothing stand between those who are about to be wed.” McGonagall said, giving Harry a sympathetic look as she took out her wand and cast the spell required. All the clothing the couple had been dressed in disappeared immediately, as did the charms keeping Harry from feeling the pain in his scar. As tradition required, Harry also lowered his Occlumensy based shielding, and Draco did the same. From within her robes, McGonagall removed a slim vial full of a bluish liquid. Harry’s vision blurred at that moment, and he nearly collapsed from the pain in his scar. He felt Fred reach forward, helping him keep his balance.

“Harold James Potter, son of wizard James Potter, of the honored Potter family, and son of witch Lily Evans, has petitioned for the hand of Draconis Malfoy in marriage.” McGonagall said, her voice ringing with pride as she spoke. “In answer, Draconis Malfoy, son of wizard Lucius Malfoy, of the honored Malfoy family, and son of witch Narcissa Malfoy, daughter of the honored Black family, has likewise petitioned for the hand of Harold Potter in marriage. Both have accepted, both have passed a trial of engagement, and both have fulfilled the traditions of their heritage to stand before those assembled here today.

“Unlike the marriages of those not born to magic, the marriage of wizards and witches is not based on empty vows, or mere words, but the true desire of those joining in marriage to be with one another. Even in those marriages that are arranged, instead of chosen by the couple, those born to magic know themselves, and their betrothed in ways that no muggle can comprehend. Draconis, Harold, you have lived with each other through the Engagement Trial, you have known each other through your own eyes, your own thoughts, your own feelings. Are you prepared to learn of each other through the eyes, the thoughts, the feelings, and the memories of each other?”

“We are.” Both Harry and Draco said in unison. McGonagall gave Harry a worried look at the pain in his voice, then a harsh look to where Voldemort was sitting in the audience. There was nothing that could be done about that though. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both conjured goblets half full of water at that point, and she filled both evenly with the bluish potion she was holding. The older couple approached and held the goblets to both young men’s lips for them to drink.

“Drink the Potion of Awareness, then.” McGonagall said as the goblets reached their lips. “Look into each other’s eyes, and learn of the person you will marry.”

Harry drank down the potion completely, then turned to face Draco. The moment he met those silver eyes, all pain left him and he felt slightly disoriented. Then he was looking at a set of emerald eyes, familiar to him only in a mirror. He watched in momentary horror as he saw himself start to collapse, only Mr. Weasley’s and Fred’s quick support keeping him from falling completely.

“The pain, oh Harry, how could you stand the pain!” He heard his own voice say, and a gasp rising from the audience. Then a wave of memories took him, and he lost all connection to the present. Draco’s childhood flashed before him, and he felt what Draco had felt as child. A father hard to please, bitter about something he never spoke of, a loving mother, lonely days broken by the occasional visitor his own age. The joys of those precious moments of companionship, giving rise to a high value on those few he could call friends. The stern father occasionally showing pride in his accomplishments, the warmth of those wonderful moments when the man was happy, and the pain, sometimes physical, when he wasn’t pleased all ran through Harry in a moment that seemed to stretch forever.

Then there was the mild curiosity of meeting a strange boy as he prepared to attend Hogwarts for the first time. The flash of disappointment and hurt when that boy rejected his offer of friendship, the fierce hatred fueled by that rejection, and the continuous wounding of pride that followed. He felt the pain of losing a father to prison, and the desire for revenge that warred with the love he was denying. Then he felt the first stirrings of happiness as the object of that hatred and that love became a friend, and he felt the relief as the hatred faded until only love remained. He felt the strength of desire to stand by the side of the man he loved, the pain he shared, the desire of fame and achievement, together, and the utter dedication to one Harry Potter.

Harry opened the eyes he had unknowingly closed, and found that he looked into familiar, yet strange emerald eyes once more. Those eyes were clouded with pain, but with a love that he returned whole-heartedly. There was another moment of disorientation, and the familiar pain of his scar returned. Now he was looking back at a set of silver eyes, clouded with the familiar pain Harry was feeling. Taking a deep breath, Harry shook the hands holding him up, and stood firmly. Together, he and Draco moved so they once more faced McGonagall.

“I have seen the life, the thoughts, and the dreams of Draconis Malfoy.” Harry said in accordance with the tradition they were following, and with a deeper understanding of its importance to the man he loved. Tradition allowed the next words to be his own. “I have found him to not only be a man I can love, a man I wish to spend the rest of my life with, but also the only person, man or woman, on this earth I could ever be with. My heart, my life, is his and his alone.”

“I have seen the life, the thoughts, and the dreams of Harold Potter.” Draco said in a voice filled with pride. “I have never dreamed of such pain, such loss, and such love as I have felt within him today. I only hope that I will prove worthy, over the passage of time, to be his husband.”

“You have seen each other in a way few ever share.” McGonagall said proudly. Her words were true. The potion they had taken was very rare, and cost nearly a 100,000 galleons alone. Not many families could afford such an expense. “You have, after sharing each other’s lives, chosen to commit yourselves to each other. As in the greatest traditions of our people, I now pronounce you married, bound together for the rest of your lives on this earth.”

The cheers that erupted at that point were thunderous. Harry and Draco found themselves clothed once more as McGonagall waved her wand and those that had stood behind them on the dais stepped aside. Hermione seemed to falter a bit, but Ginny helped her move aside so that the audience could see them. Everyone but Voldemort was on their feet, cheering, and Harry finally remembered to settle his Occlumensy protections around him again. His vision sharpened and he noticed an odd puddle of liquid on the step below him. He looked over to see Hermione clutching her stomach while trying to smile at him and he gasped.

“Harry, Draco, my deepest congratulations.” Hermione managed to gasp. “But I think I need to head inside now.”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley immediately surrounded the young woman, while Fred and George somehow managed to lift her between them and cart her off into the Manor. Neville’s grandmother was after them in a flash, her vulture hat looking like it would take off, followed by a beaming Madam Pomfrey.

“Malfoy,” Draco’s voice was light in his ear, full of amusement. “What is it about you that keeps anything you do from being normal?”

“I don’t know, Potter.” Harry whispered back as a stunned audience watched the most unusual end to the wedding ceremony. “But don’t complain love.”

“Why not?” Draco whispered back.

“If I was any different, would I have ended up married to you?” Harry asked, barely containing the laughter he was feeling.

“Good point.” Draco conceded, and then paused for a moment. “Don’t change, love.”

“I won’t.” Harry assured his husband as they stepped off the platform and led their guests to the waiting feast.