*The following is my interpretation of Harry and Draceana(Malfoid)'s wedding. Far warning, I took this one as my chance to be a total sap and cranked the sugar levels to 15. You may die.* Never had Harry been so nervous. After all he’d been through, he’d thought that this would be simple to face in comparison. Yet, standing at the end of the aisle, his future having yet to make her entrance, he could feel his heart doing its best to break out of his chest. So desperately was he looking for something to distract himself that he latched onto the first thing that he heard. A piano, playing the tune of a song they danced to at a ball ages ago, and for a moment he could let himself get lost in that memory. The smile she had then, one that she’d never shown him before, was one that she gave him almost everyday now, yet it still melted him just as it did that night. He could feel himself floating, even with feet firmly planted in the ground, and given the snickering of Ron behind him, it was clear his feeling wasn’t subtle. Neville, Seamus, and Dean joined in, their collective laugh contagious enough to spread to the Weasleys who were in the front row on Harry’s side. The sound pulled Harry back to the ground, but rather than scowl, he found some comfort in it. The sobs added some confusion, but as he turned to them, he understood. Hagrid stood off to the side of the Weaseleys, in front of a large chair that had been purposely moved to the venue just for him. He was always a soft heart, it was his greatest strength, what had endeared the man to Harry when he came barging into the Dursley’s house at what felt like a lifetime ago. At least it was tears of joy, though Harry could not bear to look at them for too long, lest he join the man in his display. As he turned away, he paused for a moment on Dudley, who stood right behind Mr. Weasley. Harry had sent an invitation to his foster family out of courtesy, never expecting anyone to arrive, but his cousin reached back out, and they began to talk. Old memories were tough to get through, but some measure of reconciliation had come about from their talks. The smile and thumbs up from Dudley gave Harry a vision at what Vernon would have been like if he was slimmer and truly jolly, and that gave the groom an odd comfort that he never saw coming, but took all the same. Narcissa Malfoy stood in the front row, opposite the Weasleys and the aisle seat next to hers was empty. She carried herself with her usual refined air, though the slight redness under her eyes had told Harry she’d shed the tears for this moment in private… for now, at least. Those who stood in the rows behind her, he was only vaguely familiar with from the functions that he’d been dragged to, but closer to the one he was waiting for. The same could be said in reverse about the ones who gathered behind the Weasleys. Still, he was grateful that he had requested a small wedding, which had agreed upon as the best option. No doubt an open venue would result in swarms of the press, but the back of the Malfoy’s Manor was both private and beautiful enough to serve as the perfect location. Honestly, he had thought the place was going to be more dreary than what he saw now, given the patriarchs usual demeanor. Yet, with the sun clear above them and the sky a vibrant blue, their garden had been turned into an isolated wonderland of faerie lights, trellises lined with roses red, white, and even green, and ribbons of silver that weaved throughout the venue. There were more decorations than just that, but just trying to process it all was making his head start to spin again. He looked back across from him, finding familiar faces again. Pansy Parkinson stood as the maid-of-honor, adorned in a dress of green that had highlights of red, like the rest of the bridesmaids did. She had reconnected with the bride shortly after graduation, reforming their friendship under shared tears and late nights of conversation. A wry smirk was on her face upon taking in Harry’s nearly trembling demeanor, but he wasn’t about to entertain her in that regard any more than he could. What still surprised him were those that stood behind her. Hermione, Luna, and Ginny were all smiles, waving at their husbands from across the aisle. Logic told him that this sight was an impossibility, but the earnest grins on their faces as they gave him a small wave eased his shoulders further. Professor McGonagall was the officiant of today’s union, the tale of Hogwarts’s own headmistress bullying the Ministry into granting her the certification still making Harry snort just from thinking about it. She stood prim and proper, like always, but the smile on her wizened face never left since she arrived. That was the final piece he needed to calm down. Only to fall apart when the music changed. A bright tune drifted through the venue upon Draceana’s entrance. Harry couldn’t find the words to describe her, even in his mind. All he knew was the sight of her took his breath away and nearly robbed the strength from his legs. Her dress was white, but sheened with silver, and was still in the simple, elegant style that she always preferred. A thin veil covered her face, he knew the moment it was lifted, he would have to keep himself from falling over. In her arm was a bouquet of the same roses that decorated the place around them, and in the other was Lucius, posture upright and gaze focused ahead. He wasn’t staring at Harry directly, but he could feel the father’s attention, no doubt to see if the man waiting for Draceana was going to make a mess of himself. Harry refused to give him the satisfaction of having such a memory, and straightened his back. Their procession down the aisle was deliberate, a pace that almost seemed chosen purposefully to drive Harry mad. He wanted nothing else but to rush down and kiss her there, but he contained himself, just barely. The punch on his shoulder from Ron didn’t help matters, and he knew his best man did that on purpose. When Draceana arrived at the front of the aisle, Lucious lifted her veil. Harry didn’t think she would get more beautiful, yet his prediction from earlier proved to be true. She looked at her father with a bright smile, and in a break from decorum, gave him a hug before stepping away and in front of her maid-of-honor, who flashed her a giddy grin upon taking her bouquet. Their eyes met, and he could see the tears swell in hers immediately. His own vision started to blur, but he blinked that away. McGonagall raised her hand to them all, and the music drifted to silence. “We are gathered here today to celebrate a union most unique, but one that is every bit as wonderful. I shall not dally and keep these two from their moment, but I ask that they take a moment to speak their vows.” Expectant stares fell upon Harry, but the weight of them melted away as he looked at Draceana. He was never much for words, but in this case, he found them. “I stand before a woman who, in those early years we knew each other, I never would have thought would be here in front me, but now know could be the only one I look upon. Ever since that Christmas night, your strength has always been with me, even when I was a fool who did not look when he should have.” Draceana’s arms began to tremble, and the tears in her eyes were on the verge of falling. Harry steadied his voice, finding only mild success. “I vow to give you that same strength, and more beyond that, to be the one that stands at your side through all the storms and trials that follow, for with your hand in mine, they will be nothing but a breeze to cool us. I, Harry, take you, Draceana, to be my wedded wife, to walk with and hold for the rest of this life and everything after; for better, for worse, and everything in between, for my heart will be with you, even in death. Always.” Draceana’s tears fell as she gathered herself with a trembling breath, squeezing her hands together. “You aren’t making this fair… but you never have, have you? There is so much I could say, so much that I have already said, that I could stand here until the sun rises and falls again, but in the end, that which sticks out in my mind most is a name. A name that I have spoken in spite, in mockery, in pain, in suffering, but a name that I said so much more in happiness and bliss, a sweet whisper that I kept to myself for so long to keep me strong.” Her voice started to crack, and now the tears fell freely down Harry’s face. “A name that you have chosen to give me, a name that I so desperately wished to take, and now… I will. I, Draceana, take you, Harry, to be my wedded husband, to lean on and support for every breath we share in this life and all the ones after; through the best of days, through the worst, and all that comes between, for our hearts will be intertwined. Always.” McGonagall cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. “Harry, do you take Draceana to be your lawfully wedded wife?” He looked Draceana clear in her eyes. “I do.” “And Draceana, do you take Harry to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The bride met his gaze. “I do.” McGonagall waved at the best man. “The rings, Weasely.” Ron coughed, and a small chuckle rippled through the crowd. “R-right.” Harry turned to his friend, who placed the rings, simple bands of gold and silver weaved together, into his hands and flashed him a wide grin. He returned the smile and clutched the rings as he turned around, wasting no time to slip one on Draceana’s finger. She was even faster. McGonagall raised her wand above them and gave it a twirl, showering them in a wave of soft light. “Then, by the power vested in me and all the headmasters before me, do I pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Harry, you may now ki-” His lips were already on Draceana’s before the sentence was finished. Laughter and cheers roared around them, but in that moment, there may as well have been nobody else, for all that he wanted was in his hands. And he knew she thought the same.

Voldemort roared, his words just a streak of curses that sent hexes to bring Harry down. Yet each one fell short, landing with a weakened force that he could easily deflect, for a wand could never bring its might against its master. Harry brushed aside the last of the flurry. “It’s over, Tom!” He thrust his wand towards The Dark Lord’s heart. “Stupefy!” The streak of red that flew from his want should have put an end to this, should have brought Voldemort to his knees. It splashed harmlessly off a shield instead. What had cast the spell was not the Elder Wand. No, it was the wand that was now in Voldemort’s other hand. Yew, thirteen and a half inches, and a phoenix feather at its core. “Expelliarmus!” “Avada Kedavra!” Red and green crashed against each other in the middle of the hall, the resulting surge of force scattering the debris around them. The power that flowed from The Dark Lord was now unburdened, and Harry felt the full weight of his might start to push his spell back. Voldermort’s face had returned to its creeping calm. “Clever, Potter. I don’t know what transpired to make you the true holder of the Elder Wand, but that is a mistake that will be corrected soon.” He thrust his wand forward, forcing the red light into further retreat. Harry pushed back with all of his might, but that only slowed the advance of the curse. His feet started to slide back, and any footing he had was lost the moment he tried to dig his heels in. “At a loss for words, are we? I wonder, what accident will happen to try and save you now?” “They were not accidents!” “Oh, but they were. Your mother, that time in the graveyard with dear Cedric watching with those lifeless, dead eyes, and in the woods just last night. All accidents on my part, failures that do leave a sour taste in my mouth, but ones that will not matter in just a few moments.” He pressed the spell harder against Harry’s. “There is no one to save you now, Potter.” The footsteps that followed were fast, too quick for Harry to react to. Slender fingers wrapped around his, and it was the sight of white-blonde locks at the corner of his vision that turned his head. Draceana was there, streaks of black trailing down her cheeks from her eyes. “I have already shed tears for you today. I will not do so again.” “Draceana, you need to-” “No! It’s my wand anyways, who could trust a fool like you to use it properly?” Laughter tore from Voldemort’s throat. “What’s this? You would use the Malfoy girl as a shield? Oh you truly are a pathetic sort, Potter.” Draceana’s eyes narrowed, and her grip around Harry’s fingers tightened. Power surged through the spell, and the curse began to retreat. The Dark Lord’s calm cracked. “What?!” Draceana clenched her jaw. “Tom, was it? You dare call the dagger at your throat a shield?!” With a grunt of effort, Harry’s spell push the curse back further. Voldemort forced the lash of green further against the red that was closing in. Spell and curse were once again back to the middle of the hall, the energies that trashed against each other send wave after wave of force that cracked the ground itself. Harry didn’t know what was happening, but he found little reason to question it and channeled the spell with all of his might. Slowly, but surely, it started to crawl to the Dark Lord. 2/3

*This is a retelling of the final exchange between Harry and Voldemort in chapter 36 of Deathly Hollows, right after Molly Weasley defeats Bellatrix Lestrange.* “Protego!” Harry’s Invisibility Cloak fluttered from him as the spell left his wand. The Shield Charm filled the middle of the hall, and it only took moments before everyone knew who was the source. “Harry!” “HE’S ALIVE!” The cheers died down as quickly as they began. Pressure filled the air, choking the words at their throats, for they dared not break the tension that built between Harry and Voldemort when their eyes met. Slowly, their circling footfalls tread upon the sudden silence, the creaks of their hands squeezing their wands so loud that it was like boards about to snap. Harry could see movement out of the corner of his eye, and raised his hand to stop them. “I ask that you stay behind the shield. It has to be this way. It has to be me.” The Dark Lord hissed. “Potter doesn’t mean that. That isn’t how he works, is it? Tell me, who do you plan to hide behind today?” “Nobody.” Harry flicked his hand out, a lash of red erupting from his want and lancing towards Voldemort’s chest. His foe flicked his wrist to brush the spell to the side, splashing it harmlessly against Harry’s own shield. “I defeated Dumbledore, boy, do not think-” “You didn’t!” Another spell flew from Harry’s wand, striking the shield that Voldemort summoned with enough force to make him stagger. The Dark Lord looked at him in shock. By every metric, that shouldn’t have happened, unless what Harry had guessed was true. “It wasn’t you who felled the greatest wizard to ever live, was it Tom?” Anger flared The Dark Lord’s red eyes. “You dare?!” A streak of green blasted from the Elder Wand, only to be batted aside with a simple deflection from Harry. That confirmed it, and he couldn’t let Voldemort figure it out. “It was Snape who killed him!” “Under my orders!” “No, under his.” Spell and curse crashed against each other, their collisions thunder that drowned all else out but their words. Confusion had made itself known on Voldemort’s face, and Harry took the opening, letting anger fuel the next spell he spoke. “Sectumsempra!” A flash of white slashes across The Dark Lord’s chest and he cried out in pain, disbelief splaying across his snakish features as blood poured from his lips. Harry continue to let his spells fly. “Dumbledore chose how he died! Months in advance, and who do you think he asked to do such a task? The man you thought was so faithful a servant!” He could hear the gasps from behind the shield, but stayed focused. “What does it matter?!” A flurry of magic whipped out from the Elder Wand, all of which Harry deflected with ease. The anger on Voldemort’s face grew hotter. “He is dead and rotting in a marble grave! I have seen his corpse, Potter! He will not return and that Half-Blood filth lies in a pool of his own blood! This wand is proof of that!” Curse after curse battered against Harry’s protections, but each one lacked the weight to break them. “And such display you are giving with it, Tom! Who is it that bleeds in this moment? Who is it that has failed to kill his enemy thrice?!” “You think you know more magic than me, Potter?! I, who dared venture where the great Albus Dumbledore only dreamed of?!” “Oh, he dreamed of it, but he always had what you will never possess, and that is the wisdom to leave those path’s untread!” “He was weak!” “And yet, you had to hide behind another to kill him, and even then you were dancing to his tune the whole time.” 1/3

Voldemort hissed and kept pushing back, but his efforts were to no avail. His eyes widened then, fixated on Draceana in bewilderment that turned to maniacal laughter. “Love again, is it? You, a Slytherin through and through, for him?! For the one who has tarnished your pride? Who has everything you wished to possess? For a disgusting half-blood?!” “What of it?!” Draceana’s voice was strained, but defiance still poured forth. “You speak like someone who knows they’ve lost!” Harry could feel her hand trembling, see the quiver to her bottom lip that she tried to still by biting it. Voldemort spit on the ground, his eyes cold, focused, but tone dripping in venom. “Lost? I have never lost! Not to Dumbledore, not to love, and never to you!” His curse pushed back against the spell, gaining ground fast towards them. “To us.” Harry slipped his fingers around Draceana’s, and their spell swelled with power. She cast only the briefest of glances towards him, enough for their eyes to meet for less than a breath, but that was all she needed for her shaking to stop. “You will lose, Tom! For it was love that made you fall, and it will be love that brings you again!” Fury filled her eyes. “But don’t think this is some flight of fancy. This is the love of Draceana Malfoy, and by it, will you be put in the ground!” Voldemort roared and threw the full weight of his might behind his curse. It surged towards them, but Harry felt no fear. From the way that Draceana looked so clearly at him in this moment, her smirk clear on her face, he knew that she was without it as well. “Scared, Potter?” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close. “Never again.” The red light of the spell flared, sending it undaunted towards Voldemort until it was right at the tip of his wand. The Dark Lord roared at the top of his lungs to keep it back, rage flaring through his slitted eyes. “It’s over, Tom!” The words left their lips in unison, their utterance a decree that threw Voldemort’s curse back into his face. His wands fell to the ground with a clatter, and he looked at both Harry and Draceana with eyes that could not register what had happened. A fissure formed down the middle of his face, spreading and cracking his skin further as what little color it had faded until all that remained was dust that was so pitifully brushed away by the wind. Silence fell over the hall once again, its sudden presence palpable around them as everyone waited for something else to happen, some other trial that reared its head to test them. None came, and it was Ron’s voice that released the tension. “They did it!” Cheers filled the hall in a roar so loud it was impossible to tell whose voice was whose. Under that chaos, Harry and Draceana collapsed to the ground. She was still in his arms, the strength that she had shown so brazenly gone as she looked up at him with tired eyes, but the smile that she had was the brightest thing he had seen in a long, long time. “That’s how you use my wand, Potter.” A giggle slipped from her, the sound so light that it almost made him float. The crowd was closing in, and she started to move away from him, but he didn’t want to let the words on his tongue stay still any longer. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her to look at him, the surprise clear on her face. “I love you too.” And he pressed his lips against hers. 3/3