Title: Socks and Snakes and Wedding Cake
Fandom: Harry Potter
Feedback/Concrit: darkhavens @ slashverse.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Warnings/Squicks: Excessive fluff and sugar
Summary: The title says it all, really. :D
Notes: Originally written for, and posted anonymously at, summer_flinging here. As always, dedicated literati.
Socks and Snakes and Wedding Cake
The wedding was as low-key as could be expected, given that the couple getting married were Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, which, really, meant not low-key so much as hot topic of conversation at every wizard's breakfast table and office and lab and classroom. Not to mention the waves of gossip that rolled from one end of Diagon Alley to the other and back again, mutating on the way into the strangest of chimeras.
For everyone but the closest of their friends - and given the chance, Draco would argue vociferously for hours on end that most of them were Harry's friends but definitely not his - the invite arriving by early morning owl was the first they knew that there was anything but loathing in the air between the two.
A dozen careful, fretful, hopeful souls made anti-love spell potions, sent by return owl, just in case. Harry gloated long and hard over the ten he'd been graced with, while trying unsuccessfully to wheedle Draco into telling who had sent the two he'd got.
Draco never told, but Harry felt the evil eyes of Crabbe and Goyle drilling holes in his back from where they sat to watch the ceremony. He let Draco keep his secret - gloat looked good on him.
The pale silver robes, as fine as spider silk and just as tough, made Draco look ethereal and regal and, yeah, hot. And that hotness wasn't muted in the slightest by the cane he used to aid his slow procession down the makeshift aisle - a cane that sent a whispered ripple of shock around the room.
Everyone in the hall recognised the silver snakehead-handled cane as having once belonged to the late Lucius Malfoy. The people who had been there for The Final Act knew that only Harry could have saved such a pivotal piece of recent history, and this explained exactly why he'd done it. Estimations of just when and where and how these two young men had got together were quickly readjusted. Raised eyebrows abounded.
Any mention of the cane at the reception garnered icy glares and loud declarations of heritage and heirlooms and symbols of familial pride. Nobody asked about the limp or the slightly twisted knee - that story was already known by all but the youngest of the wizarding world, and even they'd heard whispers.
Over Draco's loud and horrified objections, Harry had acquiesced to Dobby's pleas to let him handle the reception. The liberated house elf didn't let them down.
Every guest on the list received a personalised gift bag in the shape of a loudly coloured, highly individual, hand-knitted sock. Contents included - but were in no way limited to - wedding cake, candied fruit, miniature wedding photos and a wrapped and sealed 'surprise' from Messrs Fred and George Weasley, only to be opened on arrival home.
The socks were a phenomenal hit. Dobby made a not-so-small fortune on the wizarding world's catering circuit. And Harry and Draco lived happily ever after, barring limps and scars and the occasional mad relative or two.