InsaneJournal

Pre-wedding; Malfoy Manor [DM, RL]
WHO: Draco, Rabastan
WHERE: Malfoy Manor
WHEN: 18 December, 1999; 6:20 p.m.
SUMMARY: A short moment of slightly cold feet. LOG.
RATING: PG

Adjusting the collar of his formal robes for the tenth time in as many minutes, Draco glanced again to the clock. Six twenty. Ten more minutes and the wedding processional would start. Slightly less than ten minutes and he would be standing in front of the gathered crowd of family, friends, business and associates and 'must-invites'. In slightly more than ten minutes he would see Daphne in the wedding gown that had been more closely guarded than anything he had ever witnessed. In less than an hour, he would be married to her.

With a ping, the button at his collar flew off and contacted with the mirror, the threads worn ragged by his incessant fiddling. He cursed and began to search the room for it, the curses growing more colorful by the second.

Rabastan fought the urge to laugh when he saw the obvious excitement of Draco. Though he had never been married himself, he could imagine the enormity and emotion that came with such an event. He bent down, plucking the button off of the floor. “Here...” He walked over to Draco, refastening the button to the shirt with a charm that he was certain would hold through the next hundred times at least that Draco fiddled with the thing (and hopefully by then the wedding would be over.)

“It looks fine.” he said, refastening the button for Draco and straightening the collar with an air of formality. “Besides, from the way your mother has been talking about how lovely Daphne is in her dress, I doubt anyone would notice if you put your robes on backwards.” He laughed softly. “These things are really a woman's forte, I suppose, after all, they take such joy in planning them."

"We should have eloped, months ago," Draco grumbled, then realizing what he had just said, he turned to look at Rabastan with uncharacteristic pleading in his eyes. "You can never tell anyone I just said that, especially Daphne, or I'll... well, I'll have to kill you."

With a sharp nod, he turned back to the mirror, fighting with the collar again. It felt like it was trying to strangle him. "I think you put this back in the wrong spot, it's suffocating me." He rolled his shoulders. "My robes feel tight all over, perhaps we should have them refitted. Right now."

Rabastan smirked. “I doubt that Daphne would have disagreed with you. Likely she was just as eager to be your wife as you were to get this over with, though I do agree, after all the planning that she and your mother put into this wedding, perhaps it would be best to not mention it.”

He paused, moving closer to indicate the exact spot the button had popped from, which was directly over where the button now was. “It's in the right spot, you're just getting more nervous.” Rabastan remembered the hearing that got him released into the Centre, how his own shirt had seemed to be suffocating. He straightened the rest of Draco's robes, smoothing a hand over the shoulder to make them lie the right way. “You look wonderful, Draco, I'm certain Daphne will be quite pleased at the result.”

"Oh, I know she wouldn't have," Draco said with a roll of his eyes, watching Rabastan's actions in the mirror reflection. "She's the one who has wanted to elope all along. That's why, as far as you and I are concerned, I never said anything."

Once more his attention went to his appearance, fidgeting with his hair before sliding a finger into his collar again. Nerves or not, his clothing was becoming sentient and out to kill him. "I'm not so certain this is a wise idea anymore," he muttered, yanking viciously on his collar.

“Listen now..” Rabastan's voice was firm as he reached up, gently pulling Draco's hand away from his collar. “This is a wise idea, the wisest of ideas. We both know how you feel about Daphne, this ceremony will not change that. It will just be a short ceremony to affirm what you both already know, to give you both rings that how the rest of the world that. You've both been looking forward to this day for some time, enjoy it. Just think, tonight you and Daphne will be off on your honeymoon, and far away from all of this nonsense. When you both return she'll be able to live at the manor with you.”

He smiled at Draco in the mirror, trying to change the subject. “Besides, you have to get through the wedding to get to this great mysterious honeymoon that you've been so secretive about. Certainly that's a good idea."

"It will change things," Draco insisted, knowing if he ignored this subject again, it would be too late to revisit it a next time, for then he would be married to Daphne and it would be impossible to change it. Even he would not do that, no matter his doubts.

"All she thinks about is that she loves me, she doesn't care about what being married to me will mean for her. It's one thing to be the daughter of a 'reformed' Death Eater, it's another entirely to be married to the 'reformed' Death Eater responsible for Dumbledore's death, no matter what he did in the end." A sneer, for a moment, twisted the earnestness of Draco's expression, then was gone. "She could have gotten further in life if she hadn't said yes to me. No matter what my money can buy, it will never buy everything she should have had."

Rabastan was silent for a long moment. This was an argument he had had with himself often, about himself and Narcissa. “Sometimes, Draco....” he said quietly, his gaze far away. “Sometimes we are fortunate enough to be blessed with things that we haven't earned, but there they are anyway. Your mother was like that for me, and Daphne is for you. Perhaps we can never give them anything to make up for what they must put up with to be involved with us. I know as well as you do that there is a stigma there, a mark, but I can assure you, Daphne is not ashamed. Since you proposed to her she's been parading about with this huge smile on her face, clearly over the moon. It might have been easier for her had she not said yes, but easier isn't better. What's best for her is to marry the man that she loves, and Merlin knows after all the two have been through that she loves you. You know as well as I do how stubborn Daphne is, how she won't settle for anything less than than you, at least, not happily. She wants you, she loves you, and in an hours time or so when she's your legal wife she will be happier than she could be with anyone else.”

Draco sighed. "But it's different for Mother, she... she already had that stigma, because of me, because of Father. And she has the Centre. Daphne has nothing like that." He realized, however, that his argument was a shaky one, for he himself had avoided his mother to keep from exposing her more than she already had been. And that attempt had not ended to his liking, but everything had been better after. He knew Daphne was as strong as his mother in many ways, but his doubts did not lie in Daphne, they lay in himself, which was something that did not sit with him at all.

Raking his hands through his hair as he twisted his neck at an odd angle, reverting to old nervous habits that had been so prevalent after the war – a counselor had called it part of post-traumatic stress – he started to pace. Five minutes. Five minutes more, less so for him to be out there. Now robes weren't the only thing seeming to grow smaller and suffocate him.

Rabastan let him pace for a few minutes, figuring that it would do him good to stretch his legs and distract himself for a moment. "Draco?" He cleared his throat a moment later, knowing that if Draco wanted a chance to do anything else, such as straighten his hair or collar one last time (though Bastan himself thought it looked charming as it was) now was the time. "We should likely get ready to make our way out there."

Looking up after a few minutes pacing, Draco looked stricken and cornered at the idea of going anywhere. "I have two more minutes," he insisted. A minute and thirty seconds, really. A minute and twenty six seconds. A minute and twenty three seconds. A minute and-

"Oh Merlin," he gasped, yanking at his collar again. His robes, the room, Rabastan's words – they were all out to smother him. He would not need to worry about marrying anyone, as soon he would die of asphyxiation.

Rabastan's eyes widened, clearly recognizing the signs of a panic attack when he saw one. Cursing softly, he aimed his wand at the window in the room, opening it to let in the cold, brisk December air. He strode quickly to Draco, pushing him toward the window so that the cold air would hit him, hopefully like one would splash cold water on their face in order to wake themselves up. "You're going to be just fine." He insisted. "Breathe. Breath in, breath out. In and out. You're both going to be just FINE. You love her and she loves you and this is just a ceremony, just a short ceremony to tell you both what you already know."

Obediently, more due to the air hitting him in the face than actually listening to Rabastan's instructions, Draco sucked in several breaths, but far too fast for he choked and coughed, leaning against the window sill. It was insane. He was a failure as a Malfoy, again. His father and mother likely had never succumbed to stupid panic attacks over a wedding they had wanted. Failure. Fourty-eight seconds. Breathe.

"Good..." Bastan praised, though the coughing perhaps wasn't much of an improvement over before. "Good, Draco. Slower now, in and out more slowly. Think of Daphne, just of Daphne, think of what you've got planned for the honeymoon and how much fun the two of you are going to have once you are able to live together. You two have been through so much, being on the run, the Centre, her attack, the fights...surely this isn't so much compared to all of that."

In. Out. Eyes open. Avoid passing out. In. Out. Don't slouch.

"I'm done," Draco finally said after another twenty-fives seconds of breathing, pushing away from the windowsill. He might never have mastered calm and collected under fire like his mother or at least made an excellent show of it like his father, but he was a Malfoy, dammit. Malfoy and Black. He could do this.

Stupidly, not for the first time today, he wanted his father. At least he would have made it impossible to deteriorate this far. No, that wasn't fair, he would have done this even with his father here, especially had it been the portrait as he would have all but been alone. But, he wasn't alone now, Rabastan was here and despite never having married, Draco sensed he understood many things about the past ten minutes, the past afternoon... parts of his entire life, perhaps.

He straightened, adjusted his collar and turned to Rabastan, mouth set but gratitude in his eyes.

Rabastan's face was one of undeniable pride as he saw that Draco was ready. Perhaps not fully eager about this, nerves played a definite factor, of course, but he was ready, or as ready as he would ever be. "You're going to do well, and you're going to be happier for this in the end, I promise."

Rabastan walked closer, running his hand along the shoulders of Draco's robes in a smoothing swipe as though to straighten them, but his true purpose was to reassure the boy. "Now, let's not make poor Daphne think you jilted her, shall we?"