Harry Potter: A Typical Man(SI OC)

The night air was thick with enchantment, the kind that didn't need a wand to be felt. The Greengrass countryside villa shimmered like a castle plucked out of a fairytale and dropped into reality, with floating lanterns dotting the skies like patient stars. It smelled of blooming moonflowers, roasted vanilla, and a hint of ceremonial incense. The gravel crunched under our polished shoes as I, Cedric, Draco, and Snape made our way down the lantern-lit path toward the dressing quarters in the east wing of the estate. Tonight wasn't just any ceremony. It was his wedding night.

Snape was quiet, more than usual—though for him, that meant borderline mute—but I knew him. I'd known him for years now, close as blood brothers, the kind of loyalty you bled for. He wasn't nervous. He was… something else. It was the weight of finally getting what he thought he never would: happiness.

Inside the suite, a team of tailors and enchanted mannequins had laid out our suits like we were being inducted into some high-fashion secret society. My own navy suit shimmered subtly under the enchantments, the lining charmed with cooling spells. Draco, already fully dressed, was inspecting himself in the mirror with the intense scrutiny of someone preparing to face paparazzi. He adjusted the collar of his baby blue shirt beneath a crisp, obsidian blazer, then turned, sighed, and changed the angle of his pocket square by exactly two degrees.

"This silk," he muttered. "It's imported. If I so much as sneeze near this collar, I'll cry."

Cedric downed a small glass of firewhisky and grunted from where he lounged by the window. "You always say that. You never cry. Your hair's too expensive for it."

"I cried once," Draco said, affronted. "That one time I tried wizarding meatloaf. It was a spiritual assault."

I shook my head, laughing, as I adjusted my tie. "We get it. You were a victim of Hogwarts cuisine. Rest in flavorless peace."

Then the door creaked open and Snape stepped in.

All of us stopped.

He wore a deep black suit, tailored to perfection, with storm-gray lapels and a silver lapel pin shaped like a blooming lily—the same one Diana gave him on their first outing. His hair was pulled back loosely at the nape of his neck, enough to look refined but still like him. His wand was strapped to his forearm in a hidden sheath, as always, but tonight he looked less like a professor and more like a dark prince about to rule a moonlit kingdom.

Cedric actually stood.

Draco made a strangled noise and pointed. "I—he—THAT is illegal. I'm reporting you to the Ministry of Fashion."

Snape raised an eyebrow, stepping to the full-length mirror and straightening his cuffs. "Gentlemen."

"You look good," I said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Like… stupidly good."

Snape gave a slight nod. "Let's hope she thinks so."

"Oh, she will," Draco said, flopping dramatically onto the couch. "Half her bridal party is already sighing whenever your name comes up. Someone literally referred to you as 'deliciously broody.'"

Snape looked horrified. Cedric laughed.

We gathered around the little bar. A ceremonial bottle sat there, aged Firewhisky from the Greengrass vaults, saved for this very moment. We each poured a glass. Even Draco, just this once.

"To love," I said, lifting mine.

"To survival," Cedric added.

"To suits that make people weep," Draco muttered.

"To Diana," Snape said softly.

We clinked glasses and drank.

The ceremony space was nestled within the back gardens, beneath a natural archway of enchanted willow trees. Silver-threaded lanterns floated overhead, and the aisle was strewn with moon-petals that glowed faintly when touched. Snape took his place at the altar, and I stood beside him. Cedric and Draco flanked us, all of us dressed to perfection. Snape was still, breathing slowly, his fingers twitching only slightly.

"She'll come," I said quietly.

"She's always been coming," he replied. "I just never believed she'd arrive."

The music shifted. Harps, charmed flutes, soft orchestral strings. And then the bridesmaids began their descent.

They were radiant—Greengrass women mostly, tall and graceful, followed by a mix of Diana's old school friends and coworkers, both magical and muggle. One or two definitely gave Snape more than a lingering look.

Draco elbowed me. "Third from the left winked at him."

"Twice," I whispered back.

"She's going to faint. I can feel it."

Then came the moment.

The air shifted. Everyone stood. The music held a higher note.

And Diana appeared.

She walked arm in arm with her father, a proud, stoic squib with gentle eyes and a gait that matched hers like a mirror. Her gown was something between ethereal and battle-ready elegance—lace woven with protection runes, a veil that shimmered like moonlight over water. She was breathtaking.

Snape's breath stuttered.

His eyes didn't just tear. They burned.

I put a hand on his arm. "She's yours, mate."

"I don't deserve her," he whispered.

"No one deserves that," Draco muttered. "But you? You earned it."

The Ceremony

The vows were spoken beneath a canopy of stars.

Snape's voice was strong but cracking at the edges:

"I have lived in silence, in shadows... for so long I forgot how to speak in light. But then you came. You never demanded I change—only that I be. You loved the potion-stained hands, the quiet, the fury, the calm. Diana Rockford, I vow to stand beside you in all things—mundane and magical. I vow to burn for your safety, smile for your joy, and anchor myself in the storm you calm. I love you not in spite of what I've been... but because you showed me what I could be."

Diana took his hands.

"I have always believed in magic—not just spells or charms—but the quiet kind. The kind that exists in voices that steady your soul. In eyes that see you at your worst and still say, 'Stay.' Severus Snape, you are that magic for me. I vow to build a life with you brick by imperfect brick. I vow to honor your past, walk beside your present, and believe fiercely in your future. You are my always."

They exchanged rings—runed and glowing with old, private magic.

"You may now kiss," said the officiator.

He kissed her like a storm breaking—gentle but overwhelming.

The Speeches

The reception glowed beneath lanterns and laughter. Tables were decorated with stardust charms, floating candles, and flowers that bloomed when touched. Then it was time.

I stood.

"Good evening, friends, witches, wizards, guests from both magical and muggle walks of life. And the house elf in the back who's sneaking bites of cake—don't worry, we see you.

I'm Jon Bonds. I'm the best man tonight, and more than that, I'm Severus Snape's friend. His chosen family. And I want to talk about what that means.

Severus is a man of depth, of silence, of pain. He's lived through wars most of us only read about. He's carried burdens that would break most. And for years, he believed he didn't deserve joy.

But then Diana happened. She didn't just show up—she arrived in his life like a summer storm, unexpected and cleansing. She reminded him he was not just a man who had survived—he was a man capable of living.

So tonight, I raise my glass not just to the love they share—but to the healing it took to make it possible. To every step that brought them here. To every moment of doubt that didn't win. To Severus and Diana. May your love continue to be the kind of magic that saves."

(Crowd erupts in cheers, Snape actually dabs his eye.)

Draco stood next.

"Hello. I'm Draco Malfoy. You know me. I'm the one who looks like a fashion ad most of the time.

But tonight, I'm also a witness. Not to the Snape most of you know—the professor, the war hero, the brooding menace of Hogwarts dungeons. But to the man who once quietly took me aside during my worst year and told me: 'You are more than your father.'

To the man who let me cry without asking questions. To the man who stood up for Jon when no one else would. To the man who, despite his ability to make potions that could level a dragon, still panicked when picking out the right tie for this very wedding.

Diana, thank you for falling in love with our impossible, brilliant, secretly soft mentor. And Severus—thank you for proving to all of us that it's never too late to love. Or to be loved.

To the Snape-Rockfords."

(Laughter, claps, some misty eyes.)

Cedric followed.

"As a Lord, I've given speeches at dozens of weddings. As a father, I've feared most of them.

But tonight, I'm proud. I've known Severus for years—first as a peer, then as a challenge, now as family.

There's a special kind of courage it takes to love after pain. And even more to accept love in return.

To Diana—who shines like the moon tonight—and Severus, who has finally, finally stepped into the light.

May your life be filled with equal parts quiet tea and loud debates. With books you fall asleep in and mornings where you forget time exists. May your fights end with holding hands, and your triumphs be shared.

To love. To magic. To you both."

Later, beneath the stars, the bouquet was tossed.

Daphne caught it.

And she grinned at me like she knew something the Fates hadn't decided yet.

Draco just sipped his Coke with an exaggerated eye-roll.

The night danced on.

And love—ancient, unexpected, healing love—reigned.

----

It started off overly refined. The kind of music playing? Medieval wizarding string quartets—something that sounded like a cross between a funeral march and a court dance at a vampire coven. I leaned over to the enchanted record player, grimaced, and said, "We're not at a mourning ceremony, we're celebrating a bloody wedding!"

With a muttered charm, I swapped the music out for a high-energy Muggle pop playlist I'd enchanted earlier. The bass dropped, lights pulsed, and the entire energy of the party transformed like someone had hit a spell-powered dance switch.

The Greengrass girls, in particular, lost their collective minds. They whooped, linked arms, and immediately pulled Cedric into a group dance that looked suspiciously rehearsed. Even Draco's eyes lit up.

"This! This is culture, Jon!" Draco declared, already bobbing to the beat while sipping from his coke like it was vintage champagne.

The music was alive now—Muggle rhythms, infectious beats, and charm-spiked acoustics. It wasn't long before the garden turned into a magical rave with fine wine.

And that… that was when the party really began.

We were still in our tailored suits. I'd loosened my tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt. Cedric was already on his second drink and had started telling slightly-exaggerated war stories to a group of Diana's friends. Snape—yes, the actual Severus Snape—had a drink in hand, and was leaning against a marble column, smiling. SMILING. I wish I'd taken a photo. For science.

Draco? Draco had removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and was currently performing a magically-enhanced karaoke duet of a muggle boy band hit with one of the Greengrass cousins. His voice? Surprisingly good. His dance moves?

Questionable. But enthusiastic.

Diana and Snape had already danced their first dance, a slow, graceful waltz that silenced the entire garden. The way he looked at her? Like the moon and stars were jealous. The way she looked back? Like she knew they were.

After that, it was open season.

I found myself pulled into a conga line with three bridesmaids and a drunk goblin ambassador. Draco summoned butterbeer floats with flaming sparklers for everyone under twenty-one (or pretending to be). Daphne and I ended up dancing together for one song—her laugh rang out like a bell when I nearly tripped over a floating cheese platter. She held onto my tie like it was a leash.

"You know," she said, eyes glinting, "catching the bouquet might be a sign."

"A sign that you're part Seeker?" I asked, spinning her.

"A sign that you're going to have to keep up with me, Bonds."

Meanwhile, Snape had been cornered by Cedric, who now had his tie tied around his forehead like a war band and was recounting an old story about nearly crashing a broom into the Forbidden Forest.

"Do you remember, Snape? Sixth year? Nearly hit that Hippogriff and you said, and I quote, 'You fly like a troll on fire.'"

"I was being generous," Snape deadpanned, sipping his drink.

"That is what makes you a legend."

At one point, the music changed.

A slow, romantic instrumental charmed into floating harmonies. Couples flooded the dance floor. Snape held Diana's hand again, pulling her close. She rested her head on his chest, and the world seemed to quiet around them.

I watched from a few feet away. Draco appeared beside me, sipping from a glass of something suspiciously purple.

"You ever think you'd see this day?" he asked softly.

"Honestly?" I said. "Not in this lifetime. Maybe in a weird fanfiction."

Draco snorted. "Yeah. One of those 'Enemies to Lovers But Make It Hogwarts Professors' type."

We both laughed.

"And yet," I added, "he's happy. Really, truly happy."

Draco nodded. "And he deserves it. After everything."

Then came the after-midnight phase of the party, which no one talks about but everyone remembers. This is where:

The enchanted disco ball turned into a literal ball of fireflies that synchronized to the beat.

Someone enchanted the cake to reassemble itself after every slice.

The house elves formed a percussion band with kitchen utensils and honestly? Slayed.

Snape and Diana disappeared around 1:00 a.m. to escape to the honeymoon suite, but not before Diana tossed her heels over her shoulder and yelled, "Don't break anything, boys!"

Snape smirked. "They will. Probably Draco."

"Fair," Draco called back.

By 2 a.m., I was lying in the grass in my shirt sleeves, tie around my forehead, watching the moon float higher and higher. Daphne lay next to me, head on my shoulder.

"Think they'll be okay?" she asked.

"They've survived worse," I said.

She turned to me. "And us?"

I smiled, heart full. "We've barely begun."

She sat up, grabbed a leftover glass of wedding punch, and clinked it against mine.

"To beginnings, then."

"To everything that comes after," I said.

And the stars kept dancing above us.