he said, "return the ring"
If ever there was a sincere and convincing liar, it was Lucius Malfoy. It was not that he had a reputation for honesty or even a generally trustworthy demeanor-in fact, the longer you knew him, the more familiar you were likely to be with his particular brand of duplicity. Having been his best friend for nearly twenty-five years, now, Lysander Yaxley was perhaps more well-versed than any living wizard in the methods of Malfoy's deceitfulness. Maybe it was the deep steadiness of his voice as he said, “You are doing the right thing, my friend,” that made Yaxley believe him, today.
Today was Yaxley's wedding day. It was nothing like he had pictured it, a brief six months prior. There was too much fanfare; two months prior, there had been an opulent (overly so) engagement party. That past week had been dedicated to lavishing praise and gifts upon the soon-to-be bride and groom. The night before was spent in a seedy wizard bar, boozing it up for the amusement of his friends. And now, this spectacle.
It was to be a day-long affair, beginning with a pre-wedding breakfast for the bride and the guests-he, thankfully, had not been allowed to attend, by decree of tradition: The groom mustn't see the bride before the ceremony! It's bad luck! her mother had screeched. Not that he was complaining, mind-and culminating in a post-ceremony supper. It was sure to be a tremendous fiasco, but at least he was not the one upon whom any blame would fall if things deviated from the plan. In that respect, if nothing else, he was relieved.
He had wanted a quiet, intimate ceremony. Himself, his parents, and Lucius. And his bride's family, of course. Then again, the bride wasn't exactly who he had imagined himself marrying, six months ago. But that was a story for another day. If he dwelt on it, it would only make him angry. He might be liable to call off the wedding. And considering all the time and money already spent, that just would not do. (They would probably threaten to disown him. Again.)
And so, here he stood, stomach churning in his childhood bedroom, with Lucius standing steadfast at his side. “Are you sure about this, mate?” he asked for probably the hundredth time that afternoon.
Lucius clapped him on the shoulder. “I am positive.” And he smiled a smile that Yaxley knew was supposed to be reassuring (when in truth, it just made him a bit nauseous). But he did his best to play along, channeling his attention into plaiting his hair flawlessly for the ceremony.
“I don't know why you just don't do that by magic,” commented Lucius, now resorting to his usual tactic of making small talk to distract him from his worries.
Yaxley watched his reflection carefully. “It's calming. And easier.” This was true; he had never quite mastered the charm that his mother had used when he was small. It usually came out a bit lopsided, or with missing strands, particularly when he was this nervous.
Lucius eyed him skeptically. “Are you sure it's not because of Aur-”
“I am sure.” He did not want to hear her name. Not today. Not after Lucius had spent so many months trying to convince him that he was better off, this way. He could not spend his wedding day waxing nostalgic about a woman who was not his wife-to-be plaiting his hair by hand. He took a deep breath as he fastened the end with a gold-embroidered ribbon. “How much longer?”
There was a mechanical click as Lucius checked his watch. “Ten minutes.”
Yaxley surveyed his reflection. Clad in ridiculous white dress robes and wearing more jewelry than any man really ought, he felt like an idiot, pressed into some costume for the sake of a girl he barely knew. (You'll have a lifetime to get to know each other, Lucius had said.) He had long since passed any kind of resistance to the marriage, but as it loomed nearer he grew less and less certain of its propriety. He knew that he was fooling himself, putting his faith in all of Lucius' encouragements, but he truly wanted to believe that everything would work out for the best. He wondered how long he could stay fooled...
“Are you ready?” came Lucius' voice. He was standing by the door, now, looking impatient.
In one last decisive jerk, Yaxley yanked the ribbon from his hair and shook out his plait. He'd need to leave his baggage behind, if he wanted to be happy, now. “Let's get this over with.”