"When someone else's happiness is your happiness, that is love."
Lana Del Ray
In the early evening.
The Burrow has always been Albus' favourite place in the world. The crooked structure and the vast property of his grandparents' house have always given him a sense of home, of belonging, of family and love. There were times in his early teenage years that he preferred the Burrow, with its creaky roof and draughty windows, to the Potters' remodelled North Yorkshire cottage, especially the summer after fourth year. His parents and grandparents had let him stay in Devon, in his uncle's - and father's - old room and somehow, with combined forces, the right amount of space and thereness, good food, good talks, and endless love, managed to pull him out of his depression by the beginning of fifth year. Still even now, a few years later, living in his own flat in Dorset with Scorpius, the Burrow is the place Albus can be found whenever his angsty side reappears at difficult times.
Naturally, there never was another option when it came to reception venues for their wedding. And in all honesty, the Burrow has never looked so grand before.
It took Arthur, Harry, Ron, and a few of Albus' cousins several days to clean up the garden and the exterior of the Burrow. Every bush and every tree has been trimmed, perfectly setting off the huge, round, wall-less tent by the pond. The entire lawn is scattered with lovely white stephanotis, sweet-smelling gardenias, and vibrant forget-me-nots, all of them enchanted to glow lightly in the dark by Albus' godfather and Herbology Professor Neville Longbottom. The pathways connecting the tent with the Burrow and the apparition-point at the property's gate are covered by pristine white runners, silver candles lining the fabric beautifully. Dozens of the same candles are floating in the pond and above the open-air dance floor. The tables arranged beneath the tent are decked in silvery table-cloths, white lilies and antique silver candelabras, unearthed from the depth of the Malfoy's attics. The absolute massive 28-arms-chandelier floating underneath the white tent roof is a Black heirloom, much too beautiful for anyone to believe it once adorned the great parlour at Grimmauld Place 12, least of all Harry who has gifted the antique silver monstrosity to the grooms.
As the sun sinks behind the high trees in the orchard, Albus plops down on the garden swing under the big old elm by the family's Quidditch pitch. For once, there are no stray brooms or balls lying about, no broken or abandoned toys to be seen. What he does see are his two eldest nieces running from Victoire who is carrying Albus' sleeping goddaughter Nymphea in her arms. Claire, the oldest of Harry and Ginny's grand-daughters, is loudly protesting bedtime, seconded by Victoire and Teddy's oldest, Elli. The girls, one brunette and feisty as can be, one blonde and spirited beyond her age, are wearing adorable sparkly wellies with their matching yellow dresses. The pair looks entirely too sweet to be making such a racket.
Neither Claire nor Elli notices their grandfather exiting the Burrow's backdoor, giving Harry's Auror skills some exercise as he catches the littles in a tight hug before they can escape into the Burrow. Albus can vividly imagine the feeling of his father's arms, having experienced the same tender imprisonment a million times in his childhood.
"There you are!" Albus turns from the scene just as Ginny leaves the Burrow through the very same backdoor as her husband a moment ago. If Albus wasn't so mesmerized by the appearance of his very own husband standing before him, he might have been disgusted by the rumpled look of his mother.
Scorpius stands before Albus, the biggest possible grin adorning his handsome face. His blonde hair is a bit dishevelled, the glasses of champagne evident in his slightly glassy eyes. The silvery wedding cloak - whose identical twin Albus has ditched hours ago - is hanging loosely from his shoulders, showing off Scorpius' perfectly tailored vest and tight white suit shirt, making Albus long to find the room his parents have probably just vacated.
His daydream of a lengthy snogging-session with his husband is interrupted as Scorpius settles into the space next to Albus, leaning into him and pressing his soft lips to Albus stubbly cheek. "I've been looking for you."
"I needed to get away from my cousins and brothers before I lose all dignity at my own wedding." Albus and Scorpius turn to the ever-growing gathering at one of the Weasley's tables, where Albus' cousins – and James - seem to be having a drinking contest. Albus involuntarily rolls his eyes as Scorpius giggles happily.
"The vodka Lucy brought back from Siberia is a hit with your family."
Scorpius has always enjoyed Weasley parties, if only because they're usually everything his own family gatherings never were. While Albus feels an undying loyalty and a somewhat reluctant love towards his family, the wild Weasley-events are one of the things Scorpius and Albus are almost always in disagreement over.
"I thought I'd find you under the table," Scorpius laughs happily, as if the image of Albus drunk off his arse on their wedding night would be anything but mortifying.
"I got away before Fred and James had the chance to break out the fire-whiskey." Albus has - very un-Weasley-ish - never been able to hold his drink against his brothers and cousins. "I thought I'd better not get too pissed on our wedding night."
"Good, I'd rather you wouldn't be drunk for the wedding night, too."
"Got something planned, have you, Mr. Malfoy-Potter?" Albus raises his eyebrow in an attempt to be flirty. Scorpius beams at his husband, giving Albus a smacking kiss on the cheek in response.
"I'm afraid you'll just have to wait and see, Mr. Malfoy-Potter." Scorpius' coy smile makes Albus neck tingle. Albus has admittedly always been very fond of Scorpius soft, plush lips and the slight tint from the red wine they had with dinner earlier has Albus positively enamoured.
Almost unconsciously, Albus leans in closer and closer until Scorpius giggles and grabs Albus' face in his perfectly smooth hands and kisses him gleefully. Albus' hands find their way into Scorpius short hair at the nape of his neck, and he pulls Scorpius even closer and yet not nearly close enough.
When Albus' first wave of wild desire is somewhat sated, Scorpius slows the kiss down, until they are snogging at a more comfortable pace. Scorpius' hand rests on Albus' chest, feeling the rhythmic throbbing of his heart through the thin cotton of Albus' tuxedo shirt. Tentative, Scorpius pulls away from Albus warm lips and pecks him twice, thrice before putting his head on Albus' chest, his ear right over Albus' heart.
Neither of them speaks for a while they catch their breath, Albus kissing Scorpius hair now and again. The music drifting over, a classical piece performed by the string orchestra of Russian Vampires whom Draco has hired for the evening, is nearly entirely drowned out by the sounds of their happy guests. Still, Scorpius hums along softly to the tune, the vibrations of his vocal chords pleasantly resonating in Albus chest.
Just as Vivaldi's Spring transitions into the Postillon D'Amour by Strauss, calls for the happy couple erupt from the tent. The first shouts seem to originate from the overcrowded table of Albus' cousins, but soon Albus' Pride of Portree teammates join in from their table and Scorpius' fellow St Mungo's potioneers are quick to follow.
For a second the Albus and Scorpius simply look at each other, rather blankly, before Scorpius breaks into a beaming smile. Within the tent, calls for the newlyweds continue.
"Oh, that's us! We're married!" Scorpius laughs blissfully, conjuring a bright grin on Albus' face. "We are actually properly married, Albus!"
"Yeah." Albus leans back in and pecks Scorpius' cheek happily. "Thanks for saying yes, by the way."
"You're very welcome." Scorpius giggles and squeezes Albus' hand lightly, making Albus' heart stutter at the sight of pure delight on his husband's face. Much to Albus' sadness, Scorpius jumps up and holds out his hand for Albus to take. "Come, before your family takes down the tent – or someone from my family kills yours!"
Giggles bubble out of Scorpius again as he chances a look towards the tent over his shoulder and finds his father sitting at the bar with Albus' uncle Charlie. Albus grabs his husband's hand tightly and stands beside him, standing on his toes to press a quick kiss to Scorpius perfectly shaped jaw.
"Come on then, let's drink that over-priced champagne and have my family take the piss out of us for disappearing."
And that's that. I was going to write something else entirely but it was so ridiculously forced and OOC, I ditched it and wrote something much more happy and Albus-and-Scorpius-like. You're welcome ;)
Thank you to AnnabethGinevraJacksonPotter for proof-reading this so quickly! You're awesome!
Thank you also for the lovvely comments on part one of Confetti ;*
Stay tuned for more on this (I'll try to be faster with part 3)! Subscribitions and favourites are very welcome ;) And leave some love too! I live for nice reviews!