Potter had never looked so happy and handsome. He was impeccably dressed, even if his black hair was its usual mess. Behind the glasses his eyes were lit up with joy. And he'd finally discovered the ability to dance. He and his gorgeous red-headed bride were obviously having the time of their lives on the dance floor.

His best man watched. I'm his best friend. I have to be happy for him. It was obvious the whole time at Hogwarts that they are perfect for each other. Tears stung his eyes, but he fought them back. What if people saw him crying and thought it was because the wedding was 'just so beautiful' or something? The wedding was awful – obviously done to her tastes, with barely a sign of the groom.

No. I won't be selfish any more. I can be kind. I can let him go.

He smirked at what his parents would say. The groom's best friend and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. They must be having fits, that he'd back the Order instead of those who shared his pureblood heritage. And if they knew that he loved the groom in an utterly non-platonic fashion? That he adored the man with everything he was and had, that even now he was fighting the urge to beg him to leave the redhead, no matter how pretty and brave and talented, to choose him instead?

They'd try to disown him all over again.

Laughing eyes met his grey ones. The groom gestured. Come out and dance! Why aren't you partying with us? I'd have thought you'd be after anyone you could get!

Sirius Black sighed and went to dance.

Twenty five years later, so did Draco Malfoy.