Unintended Consequences

Unintended Consequences

Chapter 1

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the bonding of this couple in magical wedlock.” The officiating wizard celebrant looked sombrely toward the congregation and paused for effect. “The magical bonding of two people represents an eternal tie that can never be broken.” The old wizard looked up from his text again and smiled gently at the couple before him. “It is an expression of fidelity, trust and love.”

Harry turned his head slightly to look at Ginny, who was gazing at him rapturously, and his stomach clenched. Fuck! How on earth had he gotten himself into this? Of all the stupid things he had been coerced into in his young life, this had to be the worst. He chided himself yet again for always doing what he was told would be good for him. It always happened like this. He was such a sucker for pleasing others, though he had no idea why he even cared. People were always telling him what to do and he was always going along with it.

He’d been told at the tender age of eleven that the entire wizarding world expected him to fight Voldemort, even though he’d only just found out he was a wizard, so he did. He was told to compete in the Tri-wizard tournament, even though he hadn’t put his name in the cup and he was scared shitless, so he did. He was told to get over the death of his Godfather and get on with life, even though Sirius had been the only adult who’d come even close to being a parent, so he did. And most recently, he was told he should be an Auror, even though he was bloody sick and tired of fighting Dark wizards, so he did.

And now, here he was getting bonded to Ginny, because everyone had, as usual, expected him to. And he, as usual, didn’t want to let them down. He was twenty-one and living someone else’s life. Groaning inwardly, he summoned up all his inner strength and forced a weak smile as he turned to Ginny and took her hands for the final blessing.

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Draco lolled back in his seat and stretched his legs out beneath the pew in front of him. He was alone in the back, so he surreptitiously pulled the flask of firewhiskey from his inside pocket and swigged deeply from it. He was drunk, that he knew. And intending to get drunker. As he lifted the flask to his lips once more, he wondered how long it would take him to get completely wasted. Closing his eyes to block out the nauseatingly festive décor, he rested his head on the hard wooden back of the pew and cursed himself for even coming.

He hated bondings. He hated ceremonies of any kind—they were so bloody pompous. He hated Potter. And, what’s more, he hated himself. Actually, he didn’t exactly hate Potter, if truth be known. It was more of a sneering dislike, a mocking contempt, if you will. As he lounged in his seat, his eyes still closed, images of Potter swam in his head. Potter on a broom, beating him to the Snitch yet again. Potter and his bloody cronies winning house points for breaking the rules. Potter being cheered for winning the Tri-wizard Cup. Potter in the showers after Quiddich, laughing and gloating with his team mates, his fit body dripping as he towelled himself dry. And in Potions, bent over his text in concentration, absently rubbing the back of his neck--his smooth, tanned neck, framed by soft, dark hair that refused to be tamed.

Draco sighed and rubbed his brow as if the action would wipe such thoughts away. Okay, so he didn’t hate Potter at all. He didn’t even dislike him. No. It was more like quiet ambivalence, vacillating between enmity and lust. If he admitted the truth to himself, it was even more than lust, though. It was an ache in his heart and his groin at the same time—a burning need coupled with the softer flame of appreciation, of affection. Oh, bloody hell… alright. Alright! Of love. And it was that sorry admission that had him in his current state of near-inebriation while slouching in the back pew of a gaudily-decorated chapel in his best formal robes in the middle of a bloody hot summer’s day.

Breathing in deeply to calm himself, his nostrils flared as the scent of camellias filled his lungs and his head, causing him to almost choke on its sweetness. What he wouldn’t give, at this moment, to be far away from the sickly scent and the gaudy decorations and the soppy faces and the image of Potter at the front of the room holding the red-haired bint’s hands as he gave over his very soul to her. He groaned softly and tried to think of something else, his mind wandering gently across softer, more pleasant memories in an attempt to block out the harsh reality that confronted him.

When he finally opened his eyes, the old wizard at the front of the room was blabbing on and on about love and eternity, which caused him to reach for his flask again. Lifting it to his lips, he willed the liquid to wipe his pain away. If not to wipe it away completely, then at least to dull it, to soften the sharp ache he felt in his chest. Looking around the room, he grimaced inwardly at the rapt faces, some with hankies dabbing at their eyes, others smiling moronically like love-sick puppies. Ugh. He had to get out of there.

As he took in the scene at the front, registering the request for promises and vows of undying love, he thought his head would explode into a million tiny pieces, each shard a sharp reminder of something he’d rather forget. It’s not like Potter had reciprocated his feelings at all, or even knew how he felt. And that made his pain all the worse, for unrequited love had to be the most excruciating emotion a person could countenance. The loving of someone and the accompanying hatred born of denial and the knowledge of eternal suffering that lay ahead, forever stretching into the future to taint every day, every experience, every thought.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t stay. It would kill him.

Tossing the flask back into his pocket, he pulled out his wand and drunkenly Apparated away.

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“It is time to make your vows, which will seal the bond forever.” The old wizard took Harry’s and Ginny’s hands in his and raised his wand to complete the final incantation. Harry looked into Ginny’s eyes and willed himself to stay calm. He could do this. It was way too late to back out now and so he would have to do this. He would be a man and live up to his responsibilities. Ginny was a wonderful person and would make a fantastic wife and mother. Of that he was certain. The fact that he didn’t love her didn’t matter one bit. It was his duty to be with her. She loved him so much and she deserved his undying devotion, even if he could never, ever give her his undying love.

“I hereby summon all the powers of Merlin to bind these young people in eternal…” Harry suddenly felt a heavy weight slam into him and his hands slipped out of Ginny’s as he fell backwards to the floor. His lungs immediately emptied of air and he found himself fighting for breath, gasping and choking, clawing his hands around the heavy mass that lay atop him. When he opened his eyes, his vision was blurred and when it finally cleared he was staring into the face of Draco Malfoy, whose weight was pinning him to the carpet, and whose firewhiskey breath was mingling with his own. “…wedlock.” Suddenly, gold ties snaked out of the old wizard’s wand and flew around them, binding them together as they struggled on the carpet.

Draco pulled his head back sharply and tried to focus. Abruptly, he realised just exactly where he was. “Fuck! I should never Apparate when I’m drunk!”