The greatest of these
Title: The greatest of these
Author: winterdaffodils
Team: Death Eaters!
Word count: 100x13
Characters/pairings: Draco&Harry, Ron, Blaise
Challenge:for the money - #346: take
Authors Notes: I could have cried a little when the new prompt went up, I'd been busting my tush all day Sunday to write for the ones I missed because I had nothing for 'ceremony' and then smoochfest ate my brain. So what you see here, but not in the order used, is: 334-ceremony, 335-upside down, 336-follow, 337-lead, 338-anything goes, 339-good, 340-better, 341-best, 342-rise and shine, 343-fair's fair, 344-around, 345-give, and for the week, 346-take. Omg. lol Let me know if I should tag for all of those.
The title was take from 1 Corinthians 13:13, "...but the greatest of these is charity."
And this is completely without beta attention or even telling her what I was writing about, feel free to point out issues.
"He's got to be around here somewhere," Harry huffed, muttering to himself and ignoring the startled and worried expressions of the people walking past him as he checked and double checked each changing room, bathroom, and storage closet in the chapel.
It was a large building, even by wizarding standards, but he'd have thought it would be impossible for Draco to disappear so easily. Especially today of all days, when so many people were coming up to congratulate or check on Harry, it only seemed right for Draco to suffer through it all with him. He'd deserve it, after all.
Harry glanced at his watch, hissing a blue streak--before looking around the church guiltily--the ceremony was set to start in ten minutes and his arsehole husband-to-be was quite suspiciously missing in action.
Molly and Narcissa had spent so much time on this wedding that they were bound to be killed if they didn't get this show on the road in T-minus--he checked his watch again with a groan--nine minutes and seventeen seconds.
Draco hated when he did it but time was of the essence now. After another guilty look around, Harry cast a silent point me.
The tug of magic was immediate, pulling Harry back the way he had come with a surprising jerk.
He trailed the feeling, following it to first one small room--and on finding it obviously still empty, to another and another.
Harry checked his watch with a grimace, debating whether he should let Narcissa have him when he finally found Draco or if killing him himself would be more satisfying.
He let the fantasy play in his head as he walked into more rooms he had already checked, cursing Draco for guessing he would resort to this and taking preventative measures.
He had just closed the door on his fourth toilet when his magic gave a hopeful leap. Harry frowned, listening harder to the careful silence in this hallway.
The niggling feeling that something wasn't right grew stronger and hoping he wasn't about to walk into something he didn't want to see, Harry let instincts that had only sharpened since the war lead him into what now appeared to be an office, Harry's finite incantatum loud in the large space.
A muffled thump drew him to the small lounge partially hidden by the desk that took up most of the room.
"Hey," he called after watching Draco lift his head and flop back again with a grimace. "I thought we put a moratorium on anything goes for our stag nights," he murmured, trying for light and easy but figuring he sounded a bit more accusatory.
"I'm not hungover, Harry," Draco snapped, his expression tight and closed off the way it only was when he didn't mean to be such a bastard.
"Well, that's alright then," Harry grinned for him. "I wouldn't want to face your mother otherwise."
Draco winced, just like Harry thought he would.
"So what's wrong? The truth, yeah?"
Draco's frown deepened as he looked away. “Nothing,” he promised, everything about him screaming the opposite.
“Yes, because you look about as joyful as one expects of a nearly married man,” Harry sneered, injecting as much venom into his tone as he thought Draco could bear.
“Don't be angry at me, Harry,” Draco whispered, a little more brokenly than Harry expected.
He softened immediately, his fingers gentle in Draco's hair.
“It's just Blaise...”
“Fuck,” Harry growled. “I knew letting him be your best man was a horror waiting to happen.”
“It's not--”
“I could kill him for this,” Harry muttered, pacing a short path. “He knows this is happening, knows we love each other. Why does he keep trying to talk you out of it?”
“Probably because you won't listen,” Draco answered, looking at him upside down. “He mostly warns me away for your sake.”
“That's horseshit,” Harry spat, angrily running his fingers through his hair and ruining the work Hermione and Ginny had put into making it neat.
“It's not completely,” Draco cut in, catching Harry's hand on his next pass. “You know it.”
“He's supposed to be your friend,” Harry whispered, his hand clenching against Draco's rather obsessively.
“Better he says it than someone else, don't you think,” Draco asked, attempting to flattening Harry's hair again. “He was just saying what a lot of people are still thinking. It's my fault I took it so badly.”
Harry shook his head, angry but recognizing how much Draco needed him to let this go. “Are you ready now, then,” he asked a little hesitantly.
Draco drew in a deep breath, smiling at him. “Sorry for hiding, but I just...you know?”
Harry nodded, because he did know. He'd had similar conversations with Hermione, though always in Draco's favour. They both knew how Draco's family history would be under scrutiny, how each movement would be judged against his past.
It'd been the first time he'd really considered their relationship might not be for the best. “But... we're good, right,” he couldn't help asking.
Draco's hand tightened around his, his smile almost too bright as he led Harry out of his hiding place. “Let's go give them hell,” he answered, his face softening into a true smile. “Blaise deserves it.”
“Fair's fair,” Harry agreed readily enough, following Draco into the hallway where Blaise and Ron tried to loiter innocently.
“You're an arsehole,” Draco announced without ceremony.
“Hey,” Ron squawked before realising that Draco was speaking and looking pointedly at Blaise.
“I just wanted you to be sure,” Blaise defended himself quickly, glancing up the hallway. “Pansy wanted to ship you to Fiji, I knew the mums would kill us.”
“Good call,” Harry agreed, pulling Draco past their best friends. “You're both still arseholes. You couldn't have saved me searching the whole fucking church?”
“I asked them not to,” Draco confessed when they had left Ron and Blaise behind.
“Yeah, well, you're an arsehole, too. I've known that for years.” Harry smirked while Draco tried and failed to sneer. There would be no arguing that point. “Now, time to rise and shine,” he muttered. “We have to smile for six hundred of our nearest and dearest strangers and escape before they ask us to cut the cake.”
“Have you ever met my mother, Potter,” Draco asked with no small amount of amusement. “Because I've certainly met Molly Weasley.”
Harry winced. “This is going to take days, isn't it,” he asked, defeated by the combined will of the two most important women in their lives.
“I tried to kerb their most outrageous impulses,” Draco offered calmly. “My mother wanted to invite all of wizarding Europe.”
“Where would we have even held the wedding then? On broomsticks,” Harry muttered, tensing a little as they neared the 'bridal' chambers. He could hear Ron's snort every time he mentioned the room they had chosen for dressing. “You still have to convince your mother to give you away.”
“And you have to convince her to let you take me,” Draco pointed out tartly, his glare too real.
“Sorry,” Harry whispered, pulling him away from the door that lead to their waiting families, semi-chosen audience, and the rest of their lives. “I love you. And scary though she tries to be, she loves you fiercely. I don't mind listening to threats over your safety.”
Draco smiled and tugged him into a kiss.
“I don't supposed she's read Corinthians,” Harry asked softly, kissing him harder.
“She's familiar with the concept of charity, Potter,” Draco promised.
Author: winterdaffodils
Team: Death Eaters!
Word count: 100x13
Characters/pairings: Draco&Harry, Ron, Blaise
Challenge:for the money - #346: take
Authors Notes: I could have cried a little when the new prompt went up, I'd been busting my tush all day Sunday to write for the ones I missed because I had nothing for 'ceremony' and then smoochfest ate my brain. So what you see here, but not in the order used, is: 334-ceremony, 335-upside down, 336-follow, 337-lead, 338-anything goes, 339-good, 340-better, 341-best, 342-rise and shine, 343-fair's fair, 344-around, 345-give, and for the week, 346-take. Omg. lol Let me know if I should tag for all of those.
The title was take from 1 Corinthians 13:13, "...but the greatest of these is charity."
And this is completely without beta attention or even telling her what I was writing about, feel free to point out issues.
"He's got to be around here somewhere," Harry huffed, muttering to himself and ignoring the startled and worried expressions of the people walking past him as he checked and double checked each changing room, bathroom, and storage closet in the chapel.
It was a large building, even by wizarding standards, but he'd have thought it would be impossible for Draco to disappear so easily. Especially today of all days, when so many people were coming up to congratulate or check on Harry, it only seemed right for Draco to suffer through it all with him. He'd deserve it, after all.
Harry glanced at his watch, hissing a blue streak--before looking around the church guiltily--the ceremony was set to start in ten minutes and his arsehole husband-to-be was quite suspiciously missing in action.
Molly and Narcissa had spent so much time on this wedding that they were bound to be killed if they didn't get this show on the road in T-minus--he checked his watch again with a groan--nine minutes and seventeen seconds.
Draco hated when he did it but time was of the essence now. After another guilty look around, Harry cast a silent point me.
The tug of magic was immediate, pulling Harry back the way he had come with a surprising jerk.
He trailed the feeling, following it to first one small room--and on finding it obviously still empty, to another and another.
Harry checked his watch with a grimace, debating whether he should let Narcissa have him when he finally found Draco or if killing him himself would be more satisfying.
He let the fantasy play in his head as he walked into more rooms he had already checked, cursing Draco for guessing he would resort to this and taking preventative measures.
He had just closed the door on his fourth toilet when his magic gave a hopeful leap. Harry frowned, listening harder to the careful silence in this hallway.
The niggling feeling that something wasn't right grew stronger and hoping he wasn't about to walk into something he didn't want to see, Harry let instincts that had only sharpened since the war lead him into what now appeared to be an office, Harry's finite incantatum loud in the large space.
A muffled thump drew him to the small lounge partially hidden by the desk that took up most of the room.
"Hey," he called after watching Draco lift his head and flop back again with a grimace. "I thought we put a moratorium on anything goes for our stag nights," he murmured, trying for light and easy but figuring he sounded a bit more accusatory.
"I'm not hungover, Harry," Draco snapped, his expression tight and closed off the way it only was when he didn't mean to be such a bastard.
"Well, that's alright then," Harry grinned for him. "I wouldn't want to face your mother otherwise."
Draco winced, just like Harry thought he would.
"So what's wrong? The truth, yeah?"
Draco's frown deepened as he looked away. “Nothing,” he promised, everything about him screaming the opposite.
“Yes, because you look about as joyful as one expects of a nearly married man,” Harry sneered, injecting as much venom into his tone as he thought Draco could bear.
“Don't be angry at me, Harry,” Draco whispered, a little more brokenly than Harry expected.
He softened immediately, his fingers gentle in Draco's hair.
“It's just Blaise...”
“Fuck,” Harry growled. “I knew letting him be your best man was a horror waiting to happen.”
“It's not--”
“I could kill him for this,” Harry muttered, pacing a short path. “He knows this is happening, knows we love each other. Why does he keep trying to talk you out of it?”
“Probably because you won't listen,” Draco answered, looking at him upside down. “He mostly warns me away for your sake.”
“That's horseshit,” Harry spat, angrily running his fingers through his hair and ruining the work Hermione and Ginny had put into making it neat.
“It's not completely,” Draco cut in, catching Harry's hand on his next pass. “You know it.”
“He's supposed to be your friend,” Harry whispered, his hand clenching against Draco's rather obsessively.
“Better he says it than someone else, don't you think,” Draco asked, attempting to flattening Harry's hair again. “He was just saying what a lot of people are still thinking. It's my fault I took it so badly.”
Harry shook his head, angry but recognizing how much Draco needed him to let this go. “Are you ready now, then,” he asked a little hesitantly.
Draco drew in a deep breath, smiling at him. “Sorry for hiding, but I just...you know?”
Harry nodded, because he did know. He'd had similar conversations with Hermione, though always in Draco's favour. They both knew how Draco's family history would be under scrutiny, how each movement would be judged against his past.
It'd been the first time he'd really considered their relationship might not be for the best. “But... we're good, right,” he couldn't help asking.
Draco's hand tightened around his, his smile almost too bright as he led Harry out of his hiding place. “Let's go give them hell,” he answered, his face softening into a true smile. “Blaise deserves it.”
“Fair's fair,” Harry agreed readily enough, following Draco into the hallway where Blaise and Ron tried to loiter innocently.
“You're an arsehole,” Draco announced without ceremony.
“Hey,” Ron squawked before realising that Draco was speaking and looking pointedly at Blaise.
“I just wanted you to be sure,” Blaise defended himself quickly, glancing up the hallway. “Pansy wanted to ship you to Fiji, I knew the mums would kill us.”
“Good call,” Harry agreed, pulling Draco past their best friends. “You're both still arseholes. You couldn't have saved me searching the whole fucking church?”
“I asked them not to,” Draco confessed when they had left Ron and Blaise behind.
“Yeah, well, you're an arsehole, too. I've known that for years.” Harry smirked while Draco tried and failed to sneer. There would be no arguing that point. “Now, time to rise and shine,” he muttered. “We have to smile for six hundred of our nearest and dearest strangers and escape before they ask us to cut the cake.”
“Have you ever met my mother, Potter,” Draco asked with no small amount of amusement. “Because I've certainly met Molly Weasley.”
Harry winced. “This is going to take days, isn't it,” he asked, defeated by the combined will of the two most important women in their lives.
“I tried to kerb their most outrageous impulses,” Draco offered calmly. “My mother wanted to invite all of wizarding Europe.”
“Where would we have even held the wedding then? On broomsticks,” Harry muttered, tensing a little as they neared the 'bridal' chambers. He could hear Ron's snort every time he mentioned the room they had chosen for dressing. “You still have to convince your mother to give you away.”
“And you have to convince her to let you take me,” Draco pointed out tartly, his glare too real.
“Sorry,” Harry whispered, pulling him away from the door that lead to their waiting families, semi-chosen audience, and the rest of their lives. “I love you. And scary though she tries to be, she loves you fiercely. I don't mind listening to threats over your safety.”
Draco smiled and tugged him into a kiss.
“I don't supposed she's read Corinthians,” Harry asked softly, kissing him harder.
“She's familiar with the concept of charity, Potter,” Draco promised.