Not Another Wedding Story

HELP! MY BEST MAN CAN'T WALK!

Majestically the sun rose, and in typical fashion its rays spread out upon the slumbering Draco Malfoy, who was not in the least bit interested in getting up. However, he soon discovered that some rather intelligent person had set his alarm clock to go off at the crack of dawn. He was not pleased.

With one fluid motion he grabbed his wand from the bedside table and cast seven or eight unpleasant curses until the unfortunate beeping stopped. Then, rubbing his temples slightly, he sat up.

He was in Zabini's guest room, which was rather lavishly decorated with the heads of unfortunate creatures. Last night's clothes and beer bottles were strewn across the floor, but neatly hanging by the wardrobe was a dazzling white suit, which was enough to blind the hung-over man.

Draco rose from the bed, hobbling a bit as he took in the prospect of verticality. Then, he proceeded to put on some underwear and a shirt, if only to preserve his modesty. Then, he made the tragic journey, down four flights of stairs, to the kitchen.

Muttering something about "rich snooty mother's boy" he stepped over Crabbe and Goyle (who had miraculously collapsed in such a way that they blocked the door into the kitchen) and reached for a few ingredients. He grabbed a cauldron from under the sink, started a small fire, and left the potion to bubble for a while.

And lo and behold, a pink mixture did form. Draco filled a glass with the thick potion and downed it in one. Then another glass. Then another.

Once satisfied that he'd probably taken far too much of the potion, he decided it was a good time to try and shift the two great oafs from the doorway. Firstly so the house elves could get in and secondly in case anyone was trapped underneath them, screaming for help.

He grabbed a conveniently placed broom, and used it as a lever to roll Goyle over on to his back. So far so good. Then, he rolled over Crabbe only to find his worst fears had been realised. They'd eaten Zabini's dog.

He smiled, and agreed to himself that now would be a good time to locate his best man. Convinced that his miracle hangover cure had worked, he set off through the house. Eventually he managed to locate Blaise Zabini on the sofa, where his head had become mysteriously lodged between the cushions. With a jerk Draco released the head, and poor Zabini collapsed in a heap on the floor. Draco thought this a perfect time to employ his favourite method of rousing someone. He booted him one.

However, there was a rather noticeable lack of response from Zabini. Fearing he was dead, Draco did what he always did. He booted him again, and started shouting.

He heard a large groan from the general area of the kitchen, and assumed Crabbe or Goyle must be awake.

"There's a potion on the table!" Draco called out to them. "Drink one glass. ONE GLASS!" he added for emphasis, knowing fine rightly they'd just drink the lot anyway. He resumed kicking Zabini.

Eventually, after Draco decided jabbing him in the eye was a wand was a much better strategy, Zabini seemed to come around. With a groan, he rolled over to face Draco.

"Just one drink Malfoy, I swear I won't have anymore," Draco mocked. "Get up, and go take some hangover potion!" Draco helped poor Zabini to his feet, and nudged him in the right direction. Then, he decided to make sure no one else was in the house. Just as he wandered into the dining room he heard someone scream "PICKLES!!"

Apparently, Zabini had found out about his dog.

Right now, Draco was more concerned with the three naked girls on the dining room table. Cursing loudly, he tried to rouse them. He was not glad that he succeeded; because once they were up they were looking payment. In a fury, he charged into the kitchen to confront Zabini about this, only to find his most trustworthy companion had decided not to drink any hangover potion. No, the solution was quite clearly to drink more alcohol.

"What the hell happened?" Draco shouted at Crabbe, who was covered in a pink liquid.

"He just said he was thirsty," Crabbe answered slowly.

"So you let him drink more?" Draco barked. Crabbe curled up into a ball and began sobbing.

"Why are you like this Draco?" he moaned through the sobs. "Why are you always so angry with me?" Draco ignored him, and chose to bend down to talk to

Zabini.

"Zabini!" Draco said, slapping him lightly. "Wake up." Begrudgingly, Zabini opened his eyes. "I told you not to hire any girls! How many are there?" Zabini responded by closing his eyes again. Draco grabbed him by the neck.

"Answer me!" he shouted. By this stage, Goyle had woken up, and was crying along with Crabbe.

"I donno," Zabini mumbled. "Five? Ten? Fifty?"

"Zabini. You're the one paying for them."

"Can't remember," Zabini told him, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

"Fantastic!" Draco said sarcastically, standing up again. "On the day of my wedding I have an unknown number of naked girls in the house, the best man is drunk as Hagrid and Crabbe and Goyle are crying in the corner! Wonderful!" He walked calmly up the stairs and dressed hastily, before running back into the kitchen to tell off Crabbe and Goyle.

"Right you two," he told the crying oafs. "I have to go out. So while I'm gone, pay the nice naked ladies- Zabini's money is in the bottle on the table- clean this place up, and for Merlin's sake have a bath or something. Not together." He shuddered at the thought. "And try and get him looking respectable. He may not be an able bodied best man anymore, but he's going to be there." He stood for a moment, as they still sat there.

"GET A BLOODY MOVE ON!" he roared. With that, he left.

"What'd he say?" Goyle asked. Crabbe shrugged.

"Something about a bath," Crabbe suggested. With that, they picked up Zabini and made their way upstairs.

###

Draco knew that he was taking a big risk. After all, wizards are notoriously superstitious. By going here, he risked catching a glance of his bride-to-be. However, it was a risk worth being took if it meant he could find a best man. After all, nothing could be worse than if Zabini turned up drunk out of his mind.

He walked sullenly up to the door of the house, and knocked. He truly would have ran right there and then if he thought for a second it would be his bride that opened the door. Luckily, Remus Lupin had chosen this time to visit the lucky family. With one great leap he managed to knock Draco out of the way, and close the door on the unsuspecting Ginny Weasley.

"Lupin!" Draco snapped. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Saving your marriage!" Lupin answered, straightening up, and foiling a confused Ginny's attempt to open the door.

"Ginny!" Draco exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "Don't open the door."

"Draco! What the hell are you doing?" she shouted from behind the door. Draco had to think fast.

"Er... I need to speak to your brother!" He smiled. Short and simple.

"Which brother?" she asked. The smile died a death.

Which brother? How should I know? There're thousands of them!

"Erm..." he replied tamely. What was his name again? Poncy? No, that wasn't it. Gred? No, that didn't sound right.

"Ron," Lupin whispered helpfully to him.

"Yes! Ron! One of them is called Ron!" Draco shouted, jumping up and down with glee.

"This'll take a few minutes," Ginny told him. Then, there was the soft sound of footsteps on a staircase, as Lupin asked the question Draco feared he might:

"What are you doing here?"

Draco told him where to go.

"Very well then," Lupin said, opening the door, and disappearing out of sight brandishing a bunch of flowers.

True to Ginny's word, it was a full twenty minutes before a dejected looking Ron emerged. Judging by the expression on his face, he had not expected to see Draco.

"Malfoy?" he asked.

"Yes Weasley, well done," Draco congratulated him. "I have somewhat of a problem."

"Well, why should I care?" Ron asked.

"Because this afternoon I will be marrying your sister," Malfoy replied. "But I have no best man."

"What about Zabini."

"Alas, he cannot walk." At this, Ron grinned.

"So, is it a good thing I wasn't invited to your stag night?" he asked slyly.

"Look you grinning idiot, will you be my best man or not?" Ron pretended to be flattered by the question, and deliberately paused. He stroked his chin.

"I'm not sure."

Draco took out his wallet.

"What, you think you need to bribe me into being best man at my sister's wedding?" Ron asked, feeling offended.

"No," Draco replied. "If you're going to be my best man you'll need a decent suit."