Not Another Wedding Story

OF CAKES AND CANINGS

With the hour of reckoning soon approaching, Draco thought that the nerves were bound to get worse. All through his head, doubts were racing. What if she didn't turn up? What if she dumped him at the altar? What if Snape blew it and killed someone?

Then, he began to panic. Ron, who had been in this situation before, knew exactly what was going on in Draco's mind. However, old habits die hard, and he couldn't resist a few jokes at Draco's expense.

First, he told Draco he smelt of women's perfume. Draco then frantically tried to get rid of the imaginary smell using copious amounts of soap. Convinced he was rid of the smell; Ron then wasted no time in telling him that Draco's white suit looked a bit soggy and smelt like something nasty. Actually, Goyle hadn't been able to find the bathrooms, so he'd been forced to answer nature's call in Draco's room.

And the final straw. The phone rang and Ron said it was the cake place calling for Draco. Actually, this wasn't Ron winding him up. It actually was the cake place calling for Draco.

Draco cursed aloud and wondered why exactly Zabini had a Muggle telephone in his house. Dismissing such pointless thoughts, he grabbed the phone off the grinning redhead, and was not happy with what was waiting for him at the other end of the line.

"What?" he barked into the phone. "How? When?" Clearly, judging by the expression on his face, he was not thrilled with the answers he got.

"I understand," he said. "I'll be right there." He slammed the phone down, and dropped into the nearest chair with his head in his hands.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron asked, no longer grinning. It took Draco what seemed like an age to answer. He looked up to the ceiling.

"Somebody up there doesn't want me to get married," he said at last. Ron looked puzzled (as usual).

"Who? Zabini?"

Draco didn't even bother with a response; he just went upstairs to fetch Crabbe and Goyle.

###

Ron soon found out precisely what the problem was. Apparently, there had been an accident in the bakery where the wedding cake was being made. The owner had opened up as usual, and the day started normally enough. Then, in came a drunken wizard demanding food. Which he refused to pay for. First, he shouted at the staff who wouldn't feed him. Then he challenged the owner to a duel. Then he stormed out, vowing revenge.

And then all the cakes in the bakery spontaneously exploded.

Draco did not look pleased when he entered the bakery, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, Ron tagging along. Ron thought they must have looked fairly intimidating. The tall blonde in a blinding white suit, and the two gorillas in tuxedos. And the redhead sulking at the back.

Draco wasted no time in getting to the issue at hand. He needed a wedding cake in three hours time when he was going to marry the love of his life, and together they would cut the cake and begin their long happy lives together.

"It is impossible," the owner tried to explain. He was a short balding man, who spoke of the cakes in much the same manner one might describe one's children. Beautiful, a lot of work, expensive and he was glad to see the back of them. He was also rather upset whenever they exploded.

"Three hours is too short a time to create such a cake," he tried to explain. "It requires hard, manual work. Magic is not delicate enough to handle such a job."

"I don't care," Draco said calmly, although he didn't look calm. "I am going to have a cake at my wedding."

"But, in order to prepare such a cake would take days at the very least!"

"No my friend," Draco assured him. "Not days, hours!"

"It is not possible!" the owner shouted, stamping his foot on the ground for dramatic effect. It was then and there that Draco realised that he alone would not be able to reason with this man. No, it was up to the old Draco Malfoy to handle the problem.

He raised his hand, and clicked his fingers.

Crabbe and Goyle saw this as the signal that a Malfoy need muscle to back him up. They moved in, and together hoisted the owner into the air.

Needless to say, being hung six feet in the air by two of the biggest guys he'd ever met made the owner see Draco's point of view.

"Three hours sir," he said nervously. Draco nodded, and Crabbe and Goyle released their prisoner. He hit the ground with a thud.

"See you at the wedding," Ron said, before following Malfoy and his, well, thugs outside.

"That was not a nice thing to do," Ron told Draco when they got outside.

"Whoop-de-do," Draco said sarcastically.

"Listen," Ron snapped, grabbing Draco by the collar. "I want to see my sister happy, so I'm not going to punch you. But I want an explanation." Draco sighed, and gestured to Crabbe and Goyle not to beat Ron to a bloody pulp.

"I love Ginny Weasley," Draco told him. "And one way or another, she is going to have a good day." Draco brushed Ron off easily. "You don't like it? Bite me." Then he Apparated.

Ron scowled, before following suit.

###

Lucius Malfoy rose early, like he always did, to do his hair. It always took at least an hour. Not to mention the time it took getting his clothes on without ruffling it. Then, without fail, at around nine Diego would come in every morning with breakfast, a copy of the Daily Prophet, and a nice warm cup of the finest coffee ever to grace noble Britain's shores.

Yes, Lucius enjoyed a life of luxury. And he'd be damned if he was going to let a life sentence in Azkaban get in the way of that. Of course, it hadn't been all that difficult to bribe the guards. They were practically falling over each other trying to get a bit of cash on the side.

Then Lucius would eat his breakfast, today a few slices of bacon, a beautiful fried egg and some French toast. Every now and then he would moan as he tasted his tasty grub, often adding things like "Oh Diego, why did I marry Narcissa?" Then, loyal Diego would remove the plate, pour Lucius another cup of coffee, and leave him in peace to read the newspaper.

As always, Lucius liked to tell the newspaper his own opinion of the news. If some Muggle-born had died he gave a little cheer, or make loud and rude statements if any pureblood was accused of the murder. He laughed heartily at the cartoons in the back, and sneered at the sports pages in disgust.

"Bloody Weasley," he would say. "The day that boy leads England to the World Cup is the day I announce my Scottish heritage!"

Then, he would check the obituary section, and giggle like a schoolgirl at the names of people he knew.

Then he would read his son's daily column. Draco Malfoy was the writer of the surprisingly popular "Pureblood's Guide to the Galaxy" section. Although many people protested against Draco's column, and some people threatened to boycott the paper, the Prophet simply could not deny that the paper sold. Some people laughed hysterically at the things in the column. Whereas others pronounced it the new bible. And if you didn't like it, you didn't have to read it. There was always "Parvati's Predictions" on the next page. That was always good for a laugh.

Lucius sighed deeply at today's attempt at a cover-up. Draco had written about the necessities of respecting other purebloods. Even if they were a bunch of Muggle-loving hippies. Then, he discreetly added at the bottom he was marrying Ginny Weasley today. He failed to mention she was part of the family with the biggest Muggle-loving hippie of them all.

Lucius scowled at the paper as if it was to blame that his name would be befouled when that red-haired wench took it on. Ginny Malfoy. The thought made him want to be sick.

As if on queue, Diego returned with Lucius' suit for the wedding. Lucius sighed again, and gestured to Diego to leave it on the bed.

Well, he couldn't not go. It was his son's wedding. He thought how dreadfully dull his own wedding might have been had his father not turned up and beaten the father-of-the bride with the Malfoy cane.

Lucius glanced at his beloved cane, rested alone against a wall. At last the time had come to pass the cane onto a new owner. He walked over to it, and lifted it to examine it more closely. Yes, there was the chip where his father-in-law's nose had been shattered. There was the missing eye in the snake that Draco had swallowed as a child. There was the end of the stick he'd jabbed Goyle Sr. in the crotch with.

He'd be sorry to see it go. For so long it had seemed like an extension to his arm. Oh well, easy come easy go. He'd just have to order in a new cane when he went to Diagon Alley.

And maybe he might hit Arthur one while he was there...