A/N: Thank you to Jade Presley for inspiring this whole series, to Squarepeg72 who worked tirelessly with me over this, helping me get things just right and being my sounding board throughout the whole piece. The vows are entirely her work, with the help of GaeilgeRua for the Gaelic lines. We also love our beautiful friend for beta duties for The Vow. If you have been directed her by Facebook or Tumblr you will also have seen Squarepeg72's beautiful aesthetic (and if you haven't seen it do go check it out!). The location of the wedding and all aspects of the menu are correct as of 2017 however I have taken liberties with the timeline because reasons ;) If you love this, do go check out Squarepeg72 who has written some beautiful poems to accompany The Ties That Bind Series and will shortly be sharing with you her first piece of prose!
The Vow
Flat 22B
Diagon Alley
Saturday 3rd February 2001
"You canna be serious!" Oliver's eye widened with shock as Hermione shifted uncomfortably next to him.
"Ollie, what's the problem here?" Marcus asked casually as he poured himself another glass of wine from the bottle Hermione and Draco had brought with them.
"What's the problem?" he spluttered, setting his glass down on the coffee table. "She's one of my closest friends!"
Hermione felt a hot blush creep across her cheeks. "Look, boys, can we not fight over me, please?" she murmured as she brought her own glass to her lips.
"Isn't having two guys fighting over you the dream?" Pansy chuckled raising an eyebrow at her, laughing all the more when her blush increased.
"That's your dream," Hermione retorted embarrassed.
"Touché," Pansy chuckled as she uncurled herself from the corner of the couch, rising to grab another bottle of wine from the fridge of the flat she shared above Flourish and Blotts with Marcus and Oliver.
Marcus and Oliver had been engaged three years now and had finally given into Pansy's demands for them to set a date, opting for an autumn wedding in Scotland. Pansy had been thrilled, but had insisted that setting a date was not enough and nine months was nowhere near long enough to her to plan a wedding without an intense schedule of meeting every first Saturday of the month. Oliver had frowned and asked her why she needed to be the one to plan their wedding. Pansy had then asked what experience either of them had at planning events and with no answer readily available, Pansy's role as wedding coordinator had been solidified.
"Why Hermione? You could have asked Pansy!" Oliver ranted as Pansy padded back from the kitchen, placing the freshly opened wine on the coffee table before settling back into her seat.
"Hello? Right here!" Hermione complained, pointing to herself as she frowned.
Oliver ignored her, pulling a face at Marcus that made the raven haired man chuckle as he sat back.
"You know I'm closer to Hermione than Pansy!" Marcus replied, leaning back into the couch, shuffling forward again when Pansy smacked him with a cushion.
"Also right here!" Pansy smirked, giggling as Marcus grabbed the cushion and threatened to smack her back with it.
Oliver grabbed the cushion in frustration, tossing it to one side. "And you know that I am also close to Hermione," he retorted with a huff.
"I asked her first," Marcus shrugged finishing his wine and pouring another glass from the bottle Pansy had opened.
Oliver scowled hard at Marcus, his accent thickening as he launched into a Scots Gaelic rant. Pansy glanced at Oliver as he stood and began pacing the room, his hands going to his hair in frustration as his cheeks flushed.
"Any idea what any of that means?" she whispered to Marcus holding her glass up to her lips conspiratorially.
Marcus shook his head. "No idea, but it's so hot when he speaks Gaelic," he replied, his eyes dropping to Oliver's mouth as he continued to rant.
"Interesting," Pansy murmured to herself before shifting forwards on the couch. Placing her glass down on the coffee table she glanced to Hermione, a small smirk on her lips. Hermione caught her look, her lips twitching slightly as she silently agreed with the thought she could read on Pansy's mind.
"Relax Ollie," Pansy smiled, watching as Oliver turned, his eyes narrowing at the raven haired witch. Despite the innocent smile on her face he knew she was up to something.
"Marcus can have Hermione…"
"Rephrase that please," Draco spoke up from the crossword he had been completing in an attempt to ignore the other four. Pansy and Hermione rolled their eyes in sync.
"Hermione can be Marcus's…" she turned to Hermione. "Best woman?"
The curly haired which crinkled her nose in disgust shaking her head. "Maid of honour?"
Pansy chewed her bottom lip as she considered the term. "But he's not a bride…"
"Girls!" Oliver's voice thundered as he interrupted them, before lowering his voice somewhat sheepishly. "Focus, please?"
"Sorry, as I was saying," Pansy began, waving her hands as she refocused. "Marcus can have Hermione, you can have Draco."
Draco looked up from the crossword, one eyebrow raised. "Do I get any say in this?"
"No," the girls and Oliver replied, grinning.
oOoOoOoOo
The Byre at Inchyra Glencarse, Perth
Saturday 3rd March 2001
"Oh my, this place really is stunning," Hermione breathed as she reached out trailing her fingertips along the leaves as she walked hand in hand with Draco along the apple tree walk.
"Don't go getting any ideas," Draco murmured as he pulled her in, smiling as he captured her lips with his own.
"What kind of ideas?" she murmured against his lips as his hands found their way into her curls.
"You know what kind," he whispered, pressing open mouthed kisses to her neck.
"Give it a break you two," Pansy chided gently as she ducked under an apple tree. "I do not have the energy to plan two weddings at this rollercoaster rate!"
"I've just told her not to get those ideas, don't you start!" Draco complained, breaking away from Hermione as Pansy grabbed hold of his arm, dragging him along the tree lined grove.
"Merlin, woman!" Draco huffed yanking his arm free as Pansy stuck out her tongue at him.
"There you are!" Oliver cried appearing at the end of the grove throwing his hands up in the air theatrically. "Caroline wants to show us the Byre."
"Byre?" Draco echoed, frowning at Pansy as Oliver disappeared from view.
"It's basically a stone barn," she told him as they turned along the path heading to where Marcus was stood in the doorway of the stone building chatting to Lady Caroline Inchyra.
"So why call it a Byre?" Draco frowned.
"Byre is a Scots word. It means cowshed," Hermione informed him, slipping her hand into his. Draco's frowned deepened as he tried to mask his distaste.
"And that's why they call it The Byre," Pansy smirked as she picked up her pace across the courtyard. "Caroline, this is gorgeous, I can see it now," Pansy gushed as they crossed the threshold.
"Pretty sure I'm supposed to be the one envisaging my wedding," Marcus mocked as Caroline showed them into The Tree Room.
"Oh hush you," Pansy retorted as she playfully swatted him on the arm.
Caroline beamed as she described the features enthusiastically to Oliver as Marcus stepped forward to join him in The Upper Byre. "...and we can seat 180 guests comfortably here so there would be plenty of room." Oliver nodded as Marcus laced his fingers with his. Sensing their need for privacy, Caroline smiled and slipped out to the courtyard.
"Do we even know one hundred and eighty people?" Marcus frowned once they were alone, their friends speaking in hushed tones in The Tree Room.
Oliver frowned as he considered this. "Probably not. Well, not 180 people that I would want to invite anyway. I want to keep this small; intimate. What do you think?"
Marcus smiled. "I just want you to be happy," he told him, pressing a kiss to Oliver's temple. "And I want to know what you three are planning," he called over Oliver's shoulder as Oliver returned the intimate gesture.
"What makes you think we are planning anything, Marcus, dear?" Pansy smirked as she stepped into the room.
"A quiet Pansy is a scheming Pansy," he informed her, raising an eyebrow at her as she rolled her eyes.
"Charming," she mocked, folding her arms across her chest. She pursed her lips before breaking into animated chat, unable to keep her thoughts in her head.
Oliver and Marcus chuckled as they followed her back into The Tree Room, hands still threaded together. "...and I am sure Narcissa could work her magic beautifully in here…" Marcus frowned, glancing to where Caroline was stood tapping on her ipad just outside the door.
"Relax; Muggles use it as a turn of phrase," Hermione smiled, sensing his unease.
"And Narcissa will be doing what exactly?" Marcus enquired giving Pansy a pointed look.
"Well you cannot seriously expect me to pull off the wedding of the century in less than six months without help!" Pansy cried petulantly, dropping onto one of the wooden benches. She completed the look with a childish pout.
"Who said anything about it being the wedding of the century? What happened to small, intimate, classy and tasteful?" Oliver frowned.
"Yes, and the less my mother has to do with this the better," Draco chimed in, scowling as Hermione swatted his arm.
"Less of the abuse, you," he whispered seductively in her ear, his breath on her neck making her shiver slightly at the implication of what she was to receive in return later.
Sighing dramatically Pansy stood from the bench. "This room is beautiful," she gestured with her hands. "I could make it turn out quite lovely," she rounded on Oliver and Marcus taking one of their hands in each of hers. "But Narcissa could make this room stunning," she emphasised, eyes lighting up.
Oliver frowned at Pansy. "She's been scheming hasn't she?" his question more of a statement directed at Marcus. Beside him Marcus nodded in agreement. "I knew I didn't like how quiet she was," he confirmed.
Pansy took a step back, pulling them towards the giant sculpture of woven Willow. "Don't you think this would look stunning enchanted?" she whispered, watching as the two men considered what she was saying. "Only Narcissa can weave that kind of magic."
Draco turned to Hermione. "You know what this means don't you?"
Hermione furrowed her brow looking up at him. "No, what?"
"Mother is going to be dropping hints the size of hippogriffs about us," he sighed. "Please don't start getting ideas."
Beside him Hermione chuckled. "Don't worry," she told him, reaching up to brush her fingers through his hair. Closing his eyes, he leaned into her touch. "I don't have any ideas at all and your mother can drop all the hints she likes, that isn't going to change how I think."
oOoOoOoOo
Flat 22B
Diagon Alley
Saturday 7th April 2001
Faint murmuring stirred Marcus from what was actually rather an enjoyable sleep. Groaning, he rolled over, refusing to open his eyes as he snuggled into Oliver, nuzzling his bare shoulder.
The murmuring became giggling and Marcus frowned feeling Oliver stir underneath him. "That bloody woman will be the death of me," he muttered into his skin causing Oliver to chuckle, the vibration rumbling against his chest.
"She means well," Oliver replied, taking the hand that had found its way across his chest, bringing it to his lips.
"Trust you, my darling Gryffindor, to see the good in what I promise you has the potential to blow up in our faces," he scowled as Oliver turned over in his arms.
"Trust you, my darling Slytherin, to see only a scheming wench where I see a well meaning friend," he chuckled, watching as Marcus popped one eye open.
"You have met Pansy right?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"Five foot six, slim brunette?" Oliver questioned, his tone lightly mocking. "Yeah, I am familiar with her work," he laughed sliding his leg over Marcus's pelvis, his hands brushing his bed head away from his eyes.
"You need a haircut," Oliver smiled, looking down at Marcus.
"You need a shave," Marcus retorted moodily, his chin jutting up to brush against Oliver's as if to emphasis this point.
"So do you," Oliver whispered, brushing against Marcus harder.
"Touche," Marcus murmured as his lips found Oliver's,
Suddenly, loud knocking sounded on their door.
"Boys, get out here," Pansy called through the door.
"For fucks sake," Marcus hissed as Oliver ground his hips against Marcus's.
"Maybe if we are quiet she will go away," Oliver murmured as Marcus responded in kind.
"Unlikely," Pansy cried, throwing open the door.
"Will you fuck off!" Marcus yelled, grabbing the pillow from next to him, shoving Oliver slightly out the way to hurl it in her direction.
"No, I will not fuck off, get your arse out here, Flint!" she cried, pulling the door back to take the blow of the pillow as it landed with a thud against the wood.
"Out!" he bellowed as Pansy opened the door fully once more.
"Get up then!" Pansy laughed as Marcus sent a death glare strong enough to floor Voldemort in her direction.
"Parkinson," he started, his voice low. "You have exactly five seconds to shut that door, and I'm asking you nicely here, because you only deserve three," he told her, eyes so narrow they were nothing more than slits.
"Oh, Daddy's mad," she whispered, eyes shining with glee.
"Five, four, three…" he began as Pansy shrieked, shutting the door with a bang. Marcus turned to Oliver who was eyeing him suspiciously. "What?"
Oliver shook his head. "I just can't decide how to take your little play acting with her sometimes."
Marcus tutted, pouncing on the unsuspecting Oliver, pinning him to the bed. "Pretty sure that you have nothing to worry about there, love," he whispered, feeling Oliver shudder as he grazed his ear with his teeth. "Pansy and I banter, that is all it is. You however," he nipped at Oliver's ear feeling him arch underneath him. "Are mine."
Oliver whimpered as Marcus bit down harder, groaning as he drew back, reaching out as Marcus stood grabbing his boxers from where they had been tossed the night before and pulling them on. He watched his fiance as he grinned, dropping his head to press a chaste kiss to Oliver's forehead before padding in the direction of the bathroom as the knocking on the door started once more.
"Cool it, Parkinson," he yelled before slamming the door to the bathroom shut.
"You too, Wood," Pansy called through the door as Oliver groaned.
Ten minutes later the pair of them were sat on the sofa munching on eggs and bacon that Hermione had plated up for them as Marcus finished up in the shower, desperately trying to avoid looking at the various swatches and colour palettes that Narcissa had strewn about the coffee table.
"No, that won't work," Narcissa insisted, shaking her head with a sigh. "That is Emerald green, this is Hunter green. Emerald would be fitting as a House colour, but it's the wrong green for Autumn," she explained.
Draco rubbed his head in frustration. "I'm sorry I don't see a difference between the two," he told her, rolling his eyes as his mother widened hers in shock.
"They are clearly different, Draco!" she cried, equally as frustrated as her son.
"They are the same colour, Mother. Green," he insisted, rising from the couch and padding over to the kitchen to refill his coffee cup. It was only nine o'clock and he was certain no amount of coffee was going to be enough for him to survive the morning.
"How can you not see they are completely different?" his mother cried when he reappeared a moment later.
Draco groaned loudly. "What self respecting man knows the difference between Emerald green and Hunter green, I ask you?"
Narcissa opened her mouth as a retort formed on her lips, but was cut off by Oliver.
"I do," he said distractedly around a mouth full of scrambled eggs as he turned over the swatch pad.
Draco narrowed his eyes. "I am saying nothing," he replied dropping back into his seat, leaning away as Hermione went to smack his arm, giving her a look until she moved her hand away, flushing slightly. "Yeah, I thought so," he chuckled as she bit her lip.
"Children, desist, please!" Narcissa chidded, as she pulled another book forward, opening it.
"Okay, so we have our earthy tones and Hunter green as the accent, but what about burnt orange and red…" she began, her words trailing off as Oliver and Pansy's eyes snapped to hers. She stared at them confused.
"No, that won't work..," Oliver began, his words cut off as Pansy held out her hand silencing him.
Marcus and Hermione shared a look, confused.
"What Oliver means is that we were thinking of using traditional thistles, heather and lavender so a more muted palette would be more appropriate," Pansy explained, pulling out her own book, leafing over the pages until she found what she was looking for.
Marcus glanced over his head at Hermione who shrugged her shoulders. "When did we decide this?" he asked, turning to Oliver, watching him blush as he swallowed his food, buying himself an extra moment of thinking time.
"Um, the other night?" Oliver offered. "We were talking about the tartan ribbon for the button holes," he continued as Marcus tried to remember what exactly had been decided.
"And red won't go?" Narcissa asked, glancing from Pansy to Oliver and back again.
"No," they both replied, a little too quick for Marcus's liking. He glanced at Hermione once more.
"Yes," she silently agreed. "Definitely up to something."
oOoOoOoOo
Seasons
Unit 4 Cally Industrial Estate
Dunkeld
Saturday, 7th May 2001
"..So it really is up to you," the Head Chef, Aaron, showed the six of them into the conference room that had been set up for the test lunch. "You could either go for a selection from our sit down menu or a range from our platters and buffet selection. "Lee and I have selected some dishes for you to try today, starting with the twenty-eight day matured Scottish Beef Fillet, wild mushrooms, rosti and heritage carrots with a tarragon and red wine jus, or for the fish option fillet of Scottish salmon with pea puree, crisp pancetta and ginger and tomato butter," he continued as each of them took their seats. "For the vegetarian option we thought the potato and apple gallete with watercress cream and shaved fennel would suit you," he finished, nodding to Lee who directed the two young waitresses to bring in the dishes.
"This all looks marvelous," Narcissa smiled approvingly as the others began tucking into the various dishes.
"I'm glad you think so, Mrs Malfoy," Aaron replied, flashing her a charming smile, nodding to Lee who brought in their pièce de résistance. "I hope you equally approve of the desert we have chosen. As Mister Wood here is a Scot we thought we would stick with tradition. Cranachan: berries, caramalised grains, whisky & cream," he smiled, noting the way Oliver's eyes lit up.
"If this tastes anything like how my Gran used to make it, you're hired," he told Aaron emphatically.
Beside him Marcus watched as Oliver took the spoon into his mouth, closing his eyes as nostalgia took hold of him. Squeezing Oliver's hand under the table he glanced over at Aaron.
"You're hired."
oOoOoOoOo
Flat 22B
Diagon Alley
Saturday, 2nd June 2001
"This is ridiculous," Draco huffed for the umpteenth time that morning as he managed to get glue on everything, except the piece of tartan ribbon he was supposed to be gluing to the card invitation.
"Oh for Merlin's sake, give it here!" Pansy cried, taking hold of the glue, and setting it down on the counter before peeling the tartan ribbon away from the skin of Draco's thumb.
"Um, ow!" he complained, yanking his hand away scowling. "I don't know why you are insisting on doing this the muggle way," he huffed moodily as Pansy stuck the ribbon down.
"Hermione said it should be done the muggle way," Pansy replied, taking another card from the box.
"Yes, well, Hermione isn't here," Draco muttered, glaring at the offending item as Pansy attempted to instruct him yet again on how to successfully place the small ribbon trim on the card.
"No, she is out with Marcus helping him to find the right tailor," Pansy replied somewhat distractedly as she placed a purple bow on the ribbon.
"That is hardly a whole morning's activity," Draco scoffed as Pansy looked up from the box of cards. "She should go to my guy in Saville Row," he shrugged, staring at her as she raised an eyebrow at him.
"You have a guy?" she echoed, her tone making Draco shift uncomfortably. "As in, you have a muggle tailor. You. Draco Malfoy," she drawled his name for emphasis, smirking as he flushed slightly at the implication of her words. She couldn't help but giggle. "Well, wonders will never cease," she grinned, returning her attention to the task at hand.
"Problem?" Draco snarked, snatching up another card.
"No," Pansy replied, swallowing back another laugh. "Just thinking how the mighty have fallen, Draco dearest," she smirked. "Tell me, does Daddy know?" she asked, chancing a glance at him.
"No," Draco replied, shifting once more, aware of her careful scrutiny.
"I see," she murmured, suppressing another laugh. "Pureblooded Draco has a secret muggle tailor," she stated taking up her quill, addressing the invitations.
"Remind me again why we are doing this the muggle way," Draco complained as he took out the list Marcus and Oliver had finally agreed on after weeks of arguing.
"Because your muggleborn girlfriend insisted that you like all things muggle and now I understand why," Pansy giggled unable to control her amusement.
"You forget my muggleborn girlfriend is also your best friend," Draco scowled angrily.
Pansy shook her head, "No, I don't, but I don't have a guy," she grinned, glancing up at Draco before sputtering out her barely contained laughter. Draco continued to glare at her until she finished laughing, after three failed attempts.
"I'm sorry," she cried, tears rolling down her cheeks. "It's just you: Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince. The idea of you having a muggle tailor is hilarious," Pansy explained, brushing away her tears as she regained her composure. "And to answer your previous question, Hermione said it was cathartic to do things the muggle way, that you had an awful week at work and you might find this relaxing. Although, I don't think you have somehow. I however, found the whole process, how shall we say?" she paused, grinning at him. "Enlightening."
Whatever retort Draco had planned was lost as Oliver stepped out of the floo.
"Ready?" he asked, as Pansy gathered her things, slipping off the bar stool at the island counter.
"Ready for what?" Draco asked, eyeing Pansy suspiciously.
"You aren't the only one with a guy," Pansy commented with a sly grin.
.*****.
Pansy held out the garment, amusement dancing in her eyes as she tried to keep her expression straight, Draco shook his head in protest.
"No," he told her firmly.
"Oh yes," Pansy replied, nodding her head slowly.
Draco glanced at Oliver.
"No good looking to the Scot for help," Oliver chuckled.
"I hate you both," Draco ground out, taking the garment reluctantly before heading to the changing room a look of dejection on his face.
"No you don't, you love us," Pansy called after him, grinning at Oliver.
"That's what you think," he muttered.
oOoOoOoOo
Flourish and Blotts
Diagon Alley
Saturday, 7th July 2001
Hermione felt the hand clamp down around her wrist mere seconds before she was dragged around the side of the bookcase. Opening her mouth to scream, she instead broke into a verbal tirade as she found herself face to face with Marcus. When no actual sounds came out of her mouth she glared dangerously at him.
"I need your help," he hissed, glancing around to check no one was listening. Hermione curled her hands around her hips, narrowing her eyes at him. "If I remove the silencio are you going to yell at me?"
"Probably," Hermione mouthed angrily.
Marcus tilted his head as he considered this. "I don't have time to be yelled at, can you just put the yelling on hold for now?" he asked, smiling sheepishly.
Hermione stared in disbelief before giving her head a small shake, waving her hand dismissively. "Fine," she mouthed, face relaxing in defeat. Reflexively she rubbed her throat as Marcus removed the charm.
"I need your help," he emphasised, his hands coming to her biceps as he all but begged.
Hermione sighed. "So you keep saying. Help with what exactly?"
Marcus swallowed. "I have no vows."
Hermione looked at him, puzzled, for a moment before realisation dawned. "Pansy is going to kill you!" she whispered, eyes widening as she considered his fate. "She wanted them by the first of the month."
"I know," Marcus groaned. "Although, I'm not sure why the urgency. We have weeks left," he frowned as Hermione returned the book she had been reading, the pair of them heading back out of the shop and onto the cobbled streets.
"Is she home?" Hermione asked.
The raven haired wizard shook his head, taking out his keys to let them both into the flat above. "Something about swatches and tailors…" he murmured. "To be honest I wasn't really listening."
.*****.
"Focus Marcus!" Hermione scolded. "This shouldn't be hard. You know how you feel about Oliver," she insisted, placing a hand over his as Marcus screwed up yet another piece of parchment, chucking it into the air before silently casting incendio duo. The ball burst into flames, the ash falling to the floor.
"Then why won't the words come?" he huffed, dragging his chair backwards, the scrape on the floorboards hurting Hermione's ears. She watched as he went to his bedroom, pulling the top draw of his dresser open. Through the open door, she saw him root around a bit before returning to where they were sat at the little table, pushing the item in front of her.
"Paradise Lost," she murmured nostalgically, memories from what almost at times felt like another life washing over her as her fingertips traced the worn leather.
"Open it at the back," Marcus instructed with a casual shrug when she looked up at him confused.
Turning the pages, she found the poem he had written, her fingertips tracing over the inked words as she read, her face softening.
"Beautiful," she breathed.
"What is?" Pansy asked, stepping from the floo. So transfixed they were, neither Marcus nor Hermione had heard it roar to life just moments before. No one spoke as Pansy brushed the soot from her clothes before glancing up, her startled friends looking like two deer caught between the headlights.
"She is going to kill you," whispered Hermione, eyes fixed on Pansy. "Kill you dead. Like, actual dead, dead. Avada dead," Hermione continued, amused panic coursing through her.
"What have you done?" Pansy asked slowly, giving Marcus a pointed look.
"It's more what he hasn't done," Hermione rushed, her hand clamping over her mouth as Marcus's eyes snapped to hers, a look of betrayal on his face.
"I can't believe you threw me under the bus!" he hissed, incredulous as Pansy stepped forward.
"Marcus?" Pansy asked, her tone saccharine sweet. Marcus wasn't fooled by her demeanour. He pushed his chair back towards the wall as his hand gripped his wand subconsciously.
"He has no vows," Hermione confessed, flushing as Marcus glared at her once more. "I'm sorry, I don't do well under this kind of pressure," she apologised.
"I thought you thrived on pressure?" Marcus asked, confused.
Hermione shook her head. "Not since the war. Too much pressure and secret keeping. I now have an almost pathological need to release everything," she explained with a sigh.
"Maybe you should work on that," Marcus huffed.
"I am already in therapy, what more can I do?" Hermione retorted, glancing at Pansy as she slipped into the free chair.
"I'm not angry," Pansy told Marcus calmly as he eyed her suspiciously. "I'm just disappointed," she sighed. "But no matter, I am here now and we can work on this together."
Marcus and Hermione shared a confused look, each shaking their heads in disbelief at the lack of hexing currently happening.
"Actually, Hermione, I am glad you are here," Pansy beamed.
"Really? Why?" Hermione asked, her own suspicion peaking.
"You know Scots Gaelic, right?" Pansy asked.
oOoOoOoOo
Flat 22B
Diagon Alley
Saturday, 4th August 2001
Eyes fluttering open, Marcus rolled over, his arm coming across Oliver's chest. He nuzzled against the warm exposed flesh of his shoulder, feeling him stir underneath. Sliding his left arm out from under his pillow, he trailed his fingertips along Oliver's left forearm before stroking the plump flesh of his open palm.
Eyes closed, Oliver smiled, attempting to pull his hand away from Marcus's teasing touch. Marcus smiled against Oliver's bare shoulder as he increased the pressure of his touch, drawing teasing circles with the pad of his thumb. The change in pressure caused Oliver to groan as Marcus spidered his fingers up to the pulse point in Oliver's wrist.
Marcus shifted as Oliver turned around to face him, awake now, his hand coming up to cup his cheek as he drew him in for a kiss. For a few moments, Marcus allowed Oliver to explore his mouth with his tongue before pulling away, smirking as he coiled his right hand around Oliver's left wrist. He brought Oliver's arm slowly up to his mouth, his eyes never leaving Oliver's as he pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, his thumb stroking the leather band he wore.
Oliver closed his eyes, the teasing sensation igniting a spark as he arched into Marcus, fingertips splaying across the rough stubble of Marcus's cheek.
"This isn't enough for me," Marcus whispered, his voice hoarse.
Panic clenched around Oliver's heart as his eyes snapped open, searching Marcus's for the reason for his words.
Marcus fingered the leather tie, fingertips tracing the letters of his own name etched on the silver tag. "I want you to have something more than this leather band."
Oliver let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding in.
"What did you have in mind?" Oliver whispered, trying and failing to keep the relief out of his voice.
Taking his hand, he smiled wickedly at Oliver before sucking his third finger into his mouth, causing Oliver to groan as his head lulled back, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He was almost painfully hard now, his length pressing into Marcus's abdomen. Marcus let Oliver's finger drop from his mouth, hands going to Oliver's hair as he pulled him in once more in an almost desperate kiss, full of a heady combination of heat and intimacy.
When they broke apart both panting, he dropped his forehead to Oliver's. "I want you to wear my ring. It's traditional, it's symbolic," Marcus explained, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "I want the world to know you are mine: my husband, my best friend, my soulmate, my all," he whispered.
Oliver was lost for words, moved by the rare eloquence of expression that flowed from Marcus in that moment. Hands going to Marcus's hair, he drew him in, desperately, attempting to pour the emotion that overwhelmed him into Marcus's mouth. Pulling back, he slowly drew his thumb across Marcus's cheek as Marcus searched his eyes for an answer.
"Can we do that?" Marcus asked, bracing himself for Oliver's rejection, smiling when Oliver nodded fervently, entwining their fingers as he squeezed his hand.
.*****.
Draco frowned confused as he watched Hermione leaning over the display cabinet, inspecting rings with Marcus and Oliver as they discussed metals, gemstones and settings with the Goblin who skillfully crafted each item in the jewelers. Reaching out, eyes still focus on his witch, he grabbed the wrist of the raven haired witch who passed by at that moment, ready to cast her approving eye over the rings.
"What?" Pansy hissed as she glared up at Draco.
"What's her deal?" he replied, eyes still fixed on Hermione as she admired a stone the Goblin was showing her.
"What are you talking about?" Pansy huffed, following his gaze as he nodded to Hermione.
"Use your words, Draco," Pansy cooed, smirking as he pulled his gaze from his girlfriend to glare at her.
"Does she not want to get married?" he demanded, desperately clawing for answers from the one person he knew she confided in.
Pansy shrugged. "I have no idea, we don't talk about it."
Draco eyed her suspiciously. "What do you talk about?"
Pansy shrugged once more. "Length, girth, stamina…" she broke into a fit of giggles at the look of horror on Draco's face. "Relax, I'm kidding. I already know the answers to those…" she casually informed him, laughing as his jaw slacked. "We talk about normal girl stuff, but FYI, sometimes that does include sex. It's what we do," she told him. "But no, the subject of marriage has never come up…" her words trailed off as she frowned. "Wait, I thought you didn't want to get married?" she asked, glancing up at him.
Draco shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hand carding through his blond locks. "I….look I don't know," he began, frowning. "I just want to know that it's an option. That one day, maybe… I don't know okay, I just don't know," he huffed, flushing slightly.
Pansy sighed. "Well maybe instead of trying to figure your girlfriend out, you need to figure yourself out," she advised, patting him gently on his arm before walking away.
oOoOoOoOo
The Byre at Inchyra Glencarse, Perth
Saturday 1st September 2001
"Draco, for the love of all that is holy, will you stop the sulking, please," Hermione sighed, her fingers gripping her hips hard as she stood before him.
"I just don't understand," he huffed, looking up at his girlfriend.
"What do you not understand, child?" Narcissa commented as she breezed in, clipboard in hand, casting her approving eye over the last minute changes Pansy and Caroline had agreed that morning.
Draco scowled. "I am not a child, mother."
"No?" she replied distractedly, looking up from the clipboard. Sighing heavily she rolled her eyes. "You are certainly behaving like one. We do not have time for your sulking. We have less than four weeks to bring this all together and we cannot have you moping around like this," she scolded. "Honestly, if I wanted to put up with this sort of behaviour I could have stayed at home with your father," she snapped before leaving the room, calling to Pansy as she did.
"You don't understand," Draco sighed shaking his head. "This is not what we do."
Hermione frowned. "What isn't?"
"I'm supposed to be the best man," he began, throwing Hermione a look when she scoffed. "It's tradition. I should have been allowed to plan a bachelor party," he huffed, turning in his chair to glare out of the window.
Hermione pursed her lips in a vain attempt to stop the laughter she felt well up inside her pour out. "For whom? Marcus or Oliver," she asked casually as she stepped forward, running her hand through his hair in a small attempt to soothe him.
"Either...both...I don't know. That isn't the point…" his words trailed off as he wrapped a hand around her waist pulling her onto his lap, enjoying the way she giggled.
"What are we doing, Hermione?" he asked as she toyed with his tie.
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she smiled coyly. "Well...we are currently sat in the day room of the Stable Cottage as Pansy and your mother finalise the arrangements for the wedding. Since we are staying here tonight, we could slip away. I'm sure neither of them will notice as they are so wrapped up in preparations," she suggested, dropping her lips to his.
Draco responded, his hands going to her hair as she allowed him to deepen the kiss for a few moments before breaking away. "That isn't what I meant," he told her, voice quiet as he wrapped a loose curl around his finger.
Hermione frowned, waiting for him to elaborate.
"What are we doing? Do you not want to get married?" he asked, searching her eyes.
Hermione was taken aback by the sudden question. "I...I haven't thought about it, if I am honest," she replied. "I've been so focused on work and keeping on track for promotion that I haven't thought about…" her voice trailed off as confusion etched across her face. "Wait, are you saying you want to get married?" she asked suddenly. "What happened to me not getting any ideas?"
"Well, I thought you might have some ideas," Draco retorted as Hermione slipped from his lap.
"So let me get this straight: you didn't want me to want to get married, but now that you think I don't, you suddenly want to get married?"
"No..yes...I don't know, okay?" he shouted suddenly, throwing his hands up in the air.
Hermione stood slack jawed, stunned into silence, watching as Draco came to stand before her. "I love you. That's all I know," he told her taking her hands in his.
Swallowing hard, she stepped forward, standing on tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Draco closed his eyes and sighed, dropping his forehead to hers.
"I love you too," she whispered.
"So what now? Where do we go from here?" Draco asked, preparing himself mentally for her to tell him it was over.
Hermione sighed. "I'm happy. I'm doing well in my career and while I am winning no prizes with your father, I get on well with your mother."
Draco frowned. "So what are you saying, that you don't want to get married?"
Sighing, Hermione cupped his cheek. "I'm saying I am happy and I love you."
Draco leant into her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "I'm not sure that's enough," he told her, his heart hurting as he felt the last five years of his life start to unravel.
"Well, okay then," Hermione smiled.
Draco's frown deepened. "I'm sorry, what?"
Hermione slid her hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck, shrugging slightly. "Well, we will get married then," she replied, pulling him down for a kiss.
Draco continued to frown as he kissed her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. "It's what you want, isn't it?" Hermione asked when Draco didn't respond.
"I'm not sure anymore, this whole conversation has turned circular," he replied, "What did you want again?"
Hermione laughed, pulling back as she cupped his cheek once more. "I want you to be happy. If you are happy with nothing changing, nothing changes. If you want to get married, we will get married," she smiled.
"Well, okay then," Draco replied, not sure if he was still following the conversation or her train of thought. "So are we engaged then?" he asked, looking at her for clarification.
Hermione laughed once more. "You tell me."
Suddenly the door flew open and in strode Pansy, looking for the file she had stored everything related to the wedding in. Spotting it on the morning table she made to grab it. "What are you two gossiping about?" she asked casually as she flipped the pages over looking for something.
Draco glanced from at Hermione then back at Pansy. "I think we just got engaged," he replied slowly.
Pansy's eyes snapped up as she looked from Draco to Hermione and back again. "You think you got engaged?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at them both.
Blushing, Hermione nodded.
For a moment Pansy said nothing. As she shut the file she spoke. "Well alright then," she smiled before striding from the room once more.
oOoOoOoOo
The Byre at Inchyra Glencarse, Perth
Saturday 29th September 2001
"Trust me," Pansy whispered, draping the tartan sash over Hermione's shoulder. "You will be glad you did," she smiled.
Hermione frowned. "The last time you asked me to trust you we wound up flirting our way out of a muggle police cell."
Pansy shrugged. "Well, this time is different."
Across the room, Marcus was pacing as he practiced his vows one final time. Pansy glanced over Hermione's shoulder as she pinned the sash in place.
"Marcus, stop pacing!" she snapped.
"Um, ow!" Hermione cried, wincing.
"Sorry, love," Pansy muttered.
"Darlings, are you ready? My dear boy, how handsome you look!" Narcissa cried clasping her hands together as she glided into the room.
"No, I'm not ready," Marcus shook his head, suddenly turning a strange shade of grey. "I don't think I can do this," he said, backing away as Narcissa started towards him. Pausing, she turned to the sideboard, lifting the crystal decanter and pouring him a glass of whiskey.
"It's not Ogden's, but it will do," she murmured handing him the glass tumbler. "Drink," she instructed.
.*****.
"I can't believe you talked me into this," Draco huffed, looking in the mirror.
"Technically, I didn't," Oliver smiled, fixing his button hole.
"No," Draco agreed, frowning at his reflection. "Technically, that witch railroaded me into this."
"It will be worth it, trust me," Oliver commented, pulling on his jacket.
Draco turned to face him. "Trust you?" he echoed
Oliver hummed his reply, somewhat distracted as he smoothed down his jacket.
"Aren't you nervous?" Draco asked, watching as Oliver gave himself an approving nod in the mirror.
Oliver smiled. "Not in the slightest. After everything we have already been through, I know that the ties that bind us together are stronger than ever. Whatever the future holds, we will face it together," he told him sincerely, stepping forward. Reaching out he touched his hand to Draco's arm. "And I don't just mean Marcus and me; I mean all of five of us. We are tied together as a family."
Draco nodded, lost for words as he took in the wizard before him. The war had aged him as it had them all, but it left him with a maturity and wisdom beyond his years. Suddenly, he felt a pang in his heart as his mind drifted to Hermione, the desire to embrace her as soon as he was able to almost overwhelming him.
"Just one last thing," Oliver grinned as he held the door open, glancing back at Draco.
"You are a man of tradition yes?"
Draco fixed his eyes on Oliver. "I can't believe you would have to ask that. This might be under duress, but I am still a Malfoy, and Malfoys do not skimp at tradition."
Draco was pretty sure the whole estate could hear Oliver guffawing.
.*****.
Marcus shifted nervously as he stood in The Tree Room, waiting. He had to admit Pansy had been right to suggest that Narcissa enchant the tree, the leaves shimmered with magic and was lit up by the fairy lights that adorned the oak beams.
"Relax," Hermione murmured beside him. Suddenly, the guests stopped murmuring as the enchanted bagpipes began to sound The Rowan Tree.
Somehow at the back of his mind, Marcus had known Oliver would be wearing a kilt, but nothing could prepare him for the sight before him as he glanced out to the courtyard and saw Pansy, bouquet of lavender, thistles and heathers tied with tartan ribbon, walking ahead of Oliver and Draco in the Wood Clan kilts.
Marcus was sure the world stopped on its axis as his mouth went dry, everything he ever wanted standing beside him.
Hermione's eyes went wide as she saw Draco in his kilt, undeniably sexy in a way that she had never imagined. Although, it had seemed obvious that Oliver would wear his kilt, it had not once crossed her mind that anyone would manage to successfully coerce Draco into one. But they had, and her mind was filled with a lusty haze of images, arousal building deep within her as she watched him accompany Oliver taking his place opposite her. As her eyes met his, she flushed knowing from the look in his eyes despite the stoicism of his expression that he knew. "Gotcha," they said.
.*****.
Marcus swallowed hard as he stared at the card in his hand. He felt Hermione touch his shoulder reassuringly, and he looked up into Oliver's eyes, feeling himself grounded.
"I vow you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine,
from this day it shall only your name I cry out in the night
and into your eyes that I smile each morning;
I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine,
nor shall a grievous word be spoken about us,
for our marriage is sacred between us and no stranger shall hear my grievance.
Above and beyond this, I will cherish and honor you through this life and into the next."
Oliver smiled, touched by his words. Clearing his throat he began.
"Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone.
I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One.
I give ye my Spirit, `til our Life shall be Done.
You canna possess me for I belong to myself
But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give
You canna command me, for I am a free person
But I shall serve you in those ways you require
and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand."
Reaching forward, Oliver brushed the tears from Marcus's eyes as Marcus took a deep breath. What came next, nothing could have prepared Oliver for.
"Tha gaol agam ort, m' anam caraid
Chanainn gu bheil mi a 'toirt dhuibh an fhuil mo chridhe
Gaol mo chridhe," Marcus breathed.
Oliver was stunned, moved to tears as the words fell beautifully from Marcus's lips. Marcus smiled as Oliver choked back a sob, giving his hands a squeeze.
"Tha gaol agam ort, m' anam caraid
Chanainn gu bheil mi a 'toirt dhuibh an fhuil mo chridhe
Gaol mo chridhe," Oliver echoed.
Neither waited for permission to kiss.
.*****.
Tired, Pansy dropped her head against Draco's shoulder causing him to raise an eyebrow at the witch.
"Leave her be, she's tired," Hermione sighed as she dropped her head to his other shoulder.
Draco huffed, pretending to be fed up as he slipped an arm around the shoulders of each woman at his side.
Across the room, Oliver sighed contentedly as Marcus wrapped his arms around him. Their eyes drifted to their tired friends.
"Do you think they are happy?" Marcus asked, as Oliver rested his head against his shoulder.
"I do," Oliver murmured.
"Are you happy?" he asked, looking down at his husband.
"Very," Oliver sighed.
A/N: "Tha gaol agam ort, m' anam caraid (I love you, my soul mate)
Chanainn gu bheil mi a 'toirt dhuibh an fhuil mo chridhe (I'd give you the blood of my heart)
Gaol mo chridhe (Love of my heart)"
Thanks once again to GaeilgeRua