"Your Weasley thing is ridiculous, Potter."
"Shut up and help me with this, Draco."
His best man smirked and adjusted Harry's cravat. "Mrs Weasley's doing?"
"Of course it wa—"
Draco spun on the door as it opened. "No. No, no, no. There are traditions to uphold, Weasley."
"Again, no. No buts, at least, not until later. Out!"
From behind the locked door, Bill called, "Harry?"
"Harry, I . . . Malfoy! Open this door!"
"Plausible deniability," Draco said, smirking as he Disapparated.
Harry let Bill in. "Now that Molly can't blame Draco for this," he said, wrapping his arms around Bill, "we can talk."
Bill's smiling face smoothed into a more sober expression. "I just wanted to say, before it got too insane . . . thank you. Thank you, Harry."
Pre-wedding march music began to fill the room. "For what, love?"
"For being the latest, the, er, last, the best of my new beginnings. I . . . I do, Harry."
"I know you, do. I love you, too, Bill."
"That's not a tradition you're upholding, Weasley. Out!"