Confessions update, at last!
Ahh, at last. I seem to be on a roll this week. This is the thrid postable piece of fic I've finished...although you'll have to wait a few days for the next...still I'm really cruising. Now I'll go work on 38 of SS before I loose it! *laughs* One more chapter should finish this, I think. It should be out sooner than thisone was, it's very in my head. Enjoy.
Title: Hard Thoughts and Admissions (10)
Rating: PG
Summary: Ron thinks. Yes, it’s painful.
Ron Weasley had a lot to think about. Thinking was something he usually avoided as a rule, unless the subject of Quidditch was involved. Mostly he flew by the seat of his pants and tried not to dwell on all the mysteries of life and relationships. It was two days after Hermione had come over for tea and both she and his family had ganged up on him in regards to the New Harry, as he called him. Even with all their logical and supportive arguments, Ron just couldn’t wrap his head around just who his best friend had become.
Despite all this, Ron had finally reached the point where he realized that he had to do some hard thinking, and the time was now. He couldn’t put it off or ignore it any longer, not if there was any hope of repairing his relationship with Harry. He was puttering around Diagon Alley searching for distractions but thoughts of Harry and the situation were too persistent. He sighed and began to ponder the New Harry.
It seemed as if everything and everyone had changed but Ron. Even Hermione. The war had ended, leaving Ron drifting without immediate purpose for the first time since he had met Harry. Harry had been his purpose, helping Harry with the momentous task that had been forced onto him was Ron’s reason for trying harder, working harder, pushing ahead. Allowing his friend a chance at a somewhat normal life had been the goal he’d been pursuing, but now that it had been accomplished, what next?
Ron had no clear idea of what he wanted to do with the rest of his life and, unlike Harry; he did not posses the cash needed to live leisurely while he figured it out. On the other hand, Harry had moved out of Grimmauld Place, bought a new flat, declared he was gay (and not just to Ron and Hermione) and got himself a boyfriend. None of these things had been a problem for Ron, he felt proud of Harry for standing up and taking control of his life, for being strong enough to be honest with himself and everyone else about who he was. The only problem was that Ron had no idea how to cope with the New Harry. The biggest part was Harry’s assertion that he was as Slytherin as he was Gryffindor, maybe more, and that he should have been there all along. That was too much for Ron, without including the fact that Harry’s chosen boyfriend was none other than Draco ‘I’m better than you’ Malfoy, the bane of Ron’s existence.
It was as if his best friend didn’t exist anymore.
Ron pondered this fact as he made his way to Fortescue’s for an ice cream. The shop came into view, the afternoon sun shining down on a courtyard full of happy shoppers, delighting in their newfound freedom from war. Ron’s eyes raked the crowd, his war senses as strong as ever, but he stopped still when he saw the pair nestled intimately into a corner table. Sure enough, as if he had conjured them from his imagination, Harry and Malfoy were right there, enjoying dishes of ice cream while sharing what looked to be a very private conversation. Ron took a step to the side so he could watch them without being seen.
He was still adamant that it was a very, very bad idea for Harry to date Draco Malfoy, but if he didn’t at least try to understand, he was in serious danger of losing his best friend forever, not to mention causing serious problems with his girlfriend.
The couple in question was seated close, so close that it seemed obvious that they were indeed much more than friends. Their bodies were pressed snugly together, arms brushing as they talked and ate; they were very involved in a quiet conversation, speaking softly to each other. Just then Harry threw back his head, laughing heartily as Malfoy gazed at him with obvious adoration.
Ron had to admit that Harry’s eyes sparkled in a way that he’d never seen before. He swallowed thickly, ignoring the lump of dread forming in his stomach as he watched his best friend acting happier than Ron had ever seen him, certainly happier than he’d ever been before…happier than Ron or Hermione or all the friends in the world could make him…and it was all because of that snake. Ron closed his eyes for a moment, forcing his brain to admit that he might be wrong…it was not an admission that came easily to him; however many times he had done it.
He clenched his fists and opened his eyes again and continued watching. Now it was Harry telling the story, gesticulating wildly as Malfoy gave him his undivided attention, his eyes wide, clearly entranced. And there was another admission, grudging though it may be. It seemed that Malfoy was absolutely smitten. He watched Harry adoringly, as if he was the only other person in the world. It was crystal clear that it was much more than the story Harry was telling that had Malfoy so enthralled. He gazed for a long time at Harry’s lips as he spoke, and then at his hands as they waved about in time with Harry’s words. His gaze landed on Harry’s hair as a shock of sunlight set it ablaze in ebony flames before landing on his face again.
Ron swallowed again, knowing that it didn’t matter what Harry was saying, only that it was Harry saying it. Malfoy was entranced. At long last he burst into laughter and Ron watched, his fists still clenched as Harry turned his own enthralled gaze on Malfoy. It was clear he was as entranced as Malfoy, he was watching Malfoy laugh with a look of yearning lust and affection, tempered with the certainty that Malfoy belonged to him.
When Malfoy had gained control once more, Harry leaned in and kissed him. Ron blinked; it was unexpected and seemed out of place for two former rivals to be snogging in public on a blissful sunny day. Ron looked around at the crowd, expecting to see shocked faces, but most had not even noticed and those who had were smiling at the pair amusedly. Perhaps it was only out of place to Ron, then.
He looked back at them to see Malfoy returning the kiss eagerly, snuggling into the arm that Harry had draped across his chair while slipping his hands into Harry’s messy hair.
Ron turned away, leaning against the wall of the neighboring shop. While he was grateful for the opportunity to see them in such an unguarded moment, the sight of Harry’s tongue in Malfoy’s mouth had left him with a decidedly unsettled stomach. He breathed deep for a few minutes to settle his traitorous stomach. The sight was burned onto his retinas, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover. He wished he hadn’t seen it, educational opportunity aside, and he hoped he would be lucky enough to never see it again.
All else aside, he was positive now that it wasn’t a trick, not unless Malfoy was a very, very good actor, something he doubted; Malfoy had always worn his volatile emotions on his sleeve, much in the way Harry did. It was an advantage to Ron now; he was able to read the situation with ease, despite his lack of enthusiasm for the idea. He was feeling slightly better about the Malfoy factor, but he was still struggling with the changes in Harry.
It seemed to Ron that it had all happened so fast, while his back was turned. Not only had Harry grown up, but he’d become more cynical, more quiet and cunning…Ron admitted these were traits Harry had always possessed, but they seemed to be at the forefront of his personality now, instead of buried down. Though he had always been quite stubborn, it seemed to Ron that he was much, much more so now. He didn’t know how to deal with it, but knew that he’d have to find a way.
Just as Ron was pushing off the wall, no longer in the mood for ice cream, he noticed that Harry and Malfoy were leaving…Harry’s arm slung around Malfoy’s shoulders as they made their way past Ron’s hiding place in the shadows. He watched, still slightly nauseous as Malfoy whispered something in Harry’s ear, his lips much too close for Ron’s comfort. He saw Malfoy lean in closer, his lips brushing the lobe as Harry blushed and then Ron closed his eyes when Malfoy’s teeth came out, taking Harry’s lobe between his teeth.
When he finally worked up the courage to open his eyes again, Harry and Malfoy were quite a way down the alley, arms still wrapped around each other, but much too far, thank Merlin, for Ron to see any further intimacy. What he’d just witnessed was more than enough. He took in a deep breath, deciding to apparate back to the Burrow instead of flooing, afraid that he’d run into them if he took the time to walk to the Leaky Cauldron.
When Ron arrived at the Burrow he went right up to his room to think. The house was quieter these days, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. After much deliberation he decided he’d have to talk to Harry, and soon. Tomorrow. He’d stop off at Harry’s flat and talk to him. Al he had to do was decide what on earth he was going to say. He knew he’d said some pretty harsh thing, things that had hurt Harry quite a bit, and he regretted it. He regretted speaking in anger, whether or not he meant it didn’t really matter so much as the harshness of his words. Ron sighed. Hopefully Harry would see he was an idiot and agree to talk.
Before he could ponder his words and the consequences any more, he was called down to help for dinner. He sighed, rolling his eyes at Ginny’s voice on the stairs. As much as he loved his family, it was time to move on. As he took the stairs to the kitchen he decided that as soon as this mess with Harry was straightened out, he’d find a job, even if only too tide him over until he found what he wanted to do with his life. Staying here much longer was out of the question. Besides, it was time he moved on and found his own life…Harry didn’t seem to need him anymore.
*
The next afternoon found Ron pacing the street in front of the building where Harry had purchased a flat. It wasn’t flashy or grand, rather elegant and understated, but the flats were bright, airy and spacious. It suited Harry; he’d never been flashy, preferring comfort over most other considerations and simplicity over luxury. No wonder Ron hadn’t had a clue he was gay. Ron shook his head and stopped pacing, forcing himself up the steps to the door of the building.
Once there, he tapped his wand on the outside door. It was a Wizard building, keyed to allow anyone who the flat owners permitted inside. He trudged up the stairs to Harry’s flat on the third floor, dreading his arrival, still unsure of what he was going to say, exactly.
Harry’s flat was at the far end of the hall, being one of the larger ones in the building. Dread was rising as he approached the door, worries that Harry would refuse to speak to him or to forgive him; worries that Malfoy would be there…but Ron was determined to be civil if that was the case and, judging by what he’d witnessed the day before, it was a likely thing. It took him several minutes of reminding himself that he was Gryffindor before he’d worked up the courage to knock.
He’d never imagined it would be so hard. Facing Death Eaters and crazy psycho killers was nothing compared to admitting you were wrong and asking for forgiveness. After several long, painful moments the door swung open and Ron was faced with his biggest dread in the face of none other than Draco Malfoy. He gulped inelegantly.
“Malfoy.”
“Weasley.”
“Um…” Ron shifted from foot to foot nervously. “Is Harry here?”
“No.” Clearly Malfoy was not in a mood for conversation.
"Oh. Well, I’ll just…tell him I…” Ron trailed off, he had been unsure of what he would say to Harry, and being faced with Malfoy instead made it ten times harder to find the words.
“I’ll tell him you were here.” Malfoy said, adding, “It’s about time.”
Ron took a deep breath, holding back the urge to lash out at Malfoy with his wand or, even better, with his fists.
“Well, I’m here now.” He said at last and if his tone was a bit cold and snappish, well, he couldn’t be blamed, could he? Dealing with Malfoy took a saint’s patience, something Ron most certainly did not possess.
“Can you just…” Ron trailed off suddenly, again at a loss for words. Malfoy stood leaning against the doorframe in bare feet looking as if he truly belonged there and Ron had to swallow a surge of intense dislike. ‘Dislike, not hate…see I’m improving.’ Ron thought to himself as Malfoy arched one elegant brow at Ron’s reticence.
“Just don’t you ever hurt him Malfoy, or I’ll hurt you more.” Ron took a step closer, adding, “And believe me, I know how.”
Malfoy raised his eyes to the ceiling in supplication, sighing deeply as if trying to draw patience from somewhere. Ron understood the feeling. Wait, had he just admitted to understanding something about Malfoy? Maybe the world was coming to an end after all.
“Yes, I’m well aware of your capability for destruction, Weasley, I was there at the last battle remember?” Malfoy returned dryly, and Ron blanched. He pushed the picture out of his mind and focused on the words Malfoy was now speaking.
“But since you have not yet figured it out, let me enlighten you about my intentions, Weasley.” Malfoy fixed him with a fierce grey gaze. “I have wanted Harry for seven very long years, and you can rest assured that now he’s finally mine, I’ll be damned if I do anything that would hurt him or push him away.”
He paused for effect, leaning closer to Ron.
“I intend to make him blissfully happy for the rest of his life…Ron.” He added Ron’s name with palpable distaste, but it was still a far cry for a sneered ‘Weasel.’
‘Shit.’ Ron thought. ‘The bastard is trying to be nice.’
“You just watch and see.” Malfoy added, leaning back against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. He took a close look at Ron’s wide eyes before curling a lip and stating, “Come back at seven.”
With that he stepped back and closed the door firmly in Ron’s shocked face.
Chapter Eleven
Title: Hard Thoughts and Admissions (10)
Rating: PG
Summary: Ron thinks. Yes, it’s painful.
Ron Weasley had a lot to think about. Thinking was something he usually avoided as a rule, unless the subject of Quidditch was involved. Mostly he flew by the seat of his pants and tried not to dwell on all the mysteries of life and relationships. It was two days after Hermione had come over for tea and both she and his family had ganged up on him in regards to the New Harry, as he called him. Even with all their logical and supportive arguments, Ron just couldn’t wrap his head around just who his best friend had become.
Despite all this, Ron had finally reached the point where he realized that he had to do some hard thinking, and the time was now. He couldn’t put it off or ignore it any longer, not if there was any hope of repairing his relationship with Harry. He was puttering around Diagon Alley searching for distractions but thoughts of Harry and the situation were too persistent. He sighed and began to ponder the New Harry.
It seemed as if everything and everyone had changed but Ron. Even Hermione. The war had ended, leaving Ron drifting without immediate purpose for the first time since he had met Harry. Harry had been his purpose, helping Harry with the momentous task that had been forced onto him was Ron’s reason for trying harder, working harder, pushing ahead. Allowing his friend a chance at a somewhat normal life had been the goal he’d been pursuing, but now that it had been accomplished, what next?
Ron had no clear idea of what he wanted to do with the rest of his life and, unlike Harry; he did not posses the cash needed to live leisurely while he figured it out. On the other hand, Harry had moved out of Grimmauld Place, bought a new flat, declared he was gay (and not just to Ron and Hermione) and got himself a boyfriend. None of these things had been a problem for Ron, he felt proud of Harry for standing up and taking control of his life, for being strong enough to be honest with himself and everyone else about who he was. The only problem was that Ron had no idea how to cope with the New Harry. The biggest part was Harry’s assertion that he was as Slytherin as he was Gryffindor, maybe more, and that he should have been there all along. That was too much for Ron, without including the fact that Harry’s chosen boyfriend was none other than Draco ‘I’m better than you’ Malfoy, the bane of Ron’s existence.
It was as if his best friend didn’t exist anymore.
Ron pondered this fact as he made his way to Fortescue’s for an ice cream. The shop came into view, the afternoon sun shining down on a courtyard full of happy shoppers, delighting in their newfound freedom from war. Ron’s eyes raked the crowd, his war senses as strong as ever, but he stopped still when he saw the pair nestled intimately into a corner table. Sure enough, as if he had conjured them from his imagination, Harry and Malfoy were right there, enjoying dishes of ice cream while sharing what looked to be a very private conversation. Ron took a step to the side so he could watch them without being seen.
He was still adamant that it was a very, very bad idea for Harry to date Draco Malfoy, but if he didn’t at least try to understand, he was in serious danger of losing his best friend forever, not to mention causing serious problems with his girlfriend.
The couple in question was seated close, so close that it seemed obvious that they were indeed much more than friends. Their bodies were pressed snugly together, arms brushing as they talked and ate; they were very involved in a quiet conversation, speaking softly to each other. Just then Harry threw back his head, laughing heartily as Malfoy gazed at him with obvious adoration.
Ron had to admit that Harry’s eyes sparkled in a way that he’d never seen before. He swallowed thickly, ignoring the lump of dread forming in his stomach as he watched his best friend acting happier than Ron had ever seen him, certainly happier than he’d ever been before…happier than Ron or Hermione or all the friends in the world could make him…and it was all because of that snake. Ron closed his eyes for a moment, forcing his brain to admit that he might be wrong…it was not an admission that came easily to him; however many times he had done it.
He clenched his fists and opened his eyes again and continued watching. Now it was Harry telling the story, gesticulating wildly as Malfoy gave him his undivided attention, his eyes wide, clearly entranced. And there was another admission, grudging though it may be. It seemed that Malfoy was absolutely smitten. He watched Harry adoringly, as if he was the only other person in the world. It was crystal clear that it was much more than the story Harry was telling that had Malfoy so enthralled. He gazed for a long time at Harry’s lips as he spoke, and then at his hands as they waved about in time with Harry’s words. His gaze landed on Harry’s hair as a shock of sunlight set it ablaze in ebony flames before landing on his face again.
Ron swallowed again, knowing that it didn’t matter what Harry was saying, only that it was Harry saying it. Malfoy was entranced. At long last he burst into laughter and Ron watched, his fists still clenched as Harry turned his own enthralled gaze on Malfoy. It was clear he was as entranced as Malfoy, he was watching Malfoy laugh with a look of yearning lust and affection, tempered with the certainty that Malfoy belonged to him.
When Malfoy had gained control once more, Harry leaned in and kissed him. Ron blinked; it was unexpected and seemed out of place for two former rivals to be snogging in public on a blissful sunny day. Ron looked around at the crowd, expecting to see shocked faces, but most had not even noticed and those who had were smiling at the pair amusedly. Perhaps it was only out of place to Ron, then.
He looked back at them to see Malfoy returning the kiss eagerly, snuggling into the arm that Harry had draped across his chair while slipping his hands into Harry’s messy hair.
Ron turned away, leaning against the wall of the neighboring shop. While he was grateful for the opportunity to see them in such an unguarded moment, the sight of Harry’s tongue in Malfoy’s mouth had left him with a decidedly unsettled stomach. He breathed deep for a few minutes to settle his traitorous stomach. The sight was burned onto his retinas, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover. He wished he hadn’t seen it, educational opportunity aside, and he hoped he would be lucky enough to never see it again.
All else aside, he was positive now that it wasn’t a trick, not unless Malfoy was a very, very good actor, something he doubted; Malfoy had always worn his volatile emotions on his sleeve, much in the way Harry did. It was an advantage to Ron now; he was able to read the situation with ease, despite his lack of enthusiasm for the idea. He was feeling slightly better about the Malfoy factor, but he was still struggling with the changes in Harry.
It seemed to Ron that it had all happened so fast, while his back was turned. Not only had Harry grown up, but he’d become more cynical, more quiet and cunning…Ron admitted these were traits Harry had always possessed, but they seemed to be at the forefront of his personality now, instead of buried down. Though he had always been quite stubborn, it seemed to Ron that he was much, much more so now. He didn’t know how to deal with it, but knew that he’d have to find a way.
Just as Ron was pushing off the wall, no longer in the mood for ice cream, he noticed that Harry and Malfoy were leaving…Harry’s arm slung around Malfoy’s shoulders as they made their way past Ron’s hiding place in the shadows. He watched, still slightly nauseous as Malfoy whispered something in Harry’s ear, his lips much too close for Ron’s comfort. He saw Malfoy lean in closer, his lips brushing the lobe as Harry blushed and then Ron closed his eyes when Malfoy’s teeth came out, taking Harry’s lobe between his teeth.
When he finally worked up the courage to open his eyes again, Harry and Malfoy were quite a way down the alley, arms still wrapped around each other, but much too far, thank Merlin, for Ron to see any further intimacy. What he’d just witnessed was more than enough. He took in a deep breath, deciding to apparate back to the Burrow instead of flooing, afraid that he’d run into them if he took the time to walk to the Leaky Cauldron.
When Ron arrived at the Burrow he went right up to his room to think. The house was quieter these days, but he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. After much deliberation he decided he’d have to talk to Harry, and soon. Tomorrow. He’d stop off at Harry’s flat and talk to him. Al he had to do was decide what on earth he was going to say. He knew he’d said some pretty harsh thing, things that had hurt Harry quite a bit, and he regretted it. He regretted speaking in anger, whether or not he meant it didn’t really matter so much as the harshness of his words. Ron sighed. Hopefully Harry would see he was an idiot and agree to talk.
Before he could ponder his words and the consequences any more, he was called down to help for dinner. He sighed, rolling his eyes at Ginny’s voice on the stairs. As much as he loved his family, it was time to move on. As he took the stairs to the kitchen he decided that as soon as this mess with Harry was straightened out, he’d find a job, even if only too tide him over until he found what he wanted to do with his life. Staying here much longer was out of the question. Besides, it was time he moved on and found his own life…Harry didn’t seem to need him anymore.
*
The next afternoon found Ron pacing the street in front of the building where Harry had purchased a flat. It wasn’t flashy or grand, rather elegant and understated, but the flats were bright, airy and spacious. It suited Harry; he’d never been flashy, preferring comfort over most other considerations and simplicity over luxury. No wonder Ron hadn’t had a clue he was gay. Ron shook his head and stopped pacing, forcing himself up the steps to the door of the building.
Once there, he tapped his wand on the outside door. It was a Wizard building, keyed to allow anyone who the flat owners permitted inside. He trudged up the stairs to Harry’s flat on the third floor, dreading his arrival, still unsure of what he was going to say, exactly.
Harry’s flat was at the far end of the hall, being one of the larger ones in the building. Dread was rising as he approached the door, worries that Harry would refuse to speak to him or to forgive him; worries that Malfoy would be there…but Ron was determined to be civil if that was the case and, judging by what he’d witnessed the day before, it was a likely thing. It took him several minutes of reminding himself that he was Gryffindor before he’d worked up the courage to knock.
He’d never imagined it would be so hard. Facing Death Eaters and crazy psycho killers was nothing compared to admitting you were wrong and asking for forgiveness. After several long, painful moments the door swung open and Ron was faced with his biggest dread in the face of none other than Draco Malfoy. He gulped inelegantly.
“Malfoy.”
“Weasley.”
“Um…” Ron shifted from foot to foot nervously. “Is Harry here?”
“No.” Clearly Malfoy was not in a mood for conversation.
"Oh. Well, I’ll just…tell him I…” Ron trailed off, he had been unsure of what he would say to Harry, and being faced with Malfoy instead made it ten times harder to find the words.
“I’ll tell him you were here.” Malfoy said, adding, “It’s about time.”
Ron took a deep breath, holding back the urge to lash out at Malfoy with his wand or, even better, with his fists.
“Well, I’m here now.” He said at last and if his tone was a bit cold and snappish, well, he couldn’t be blamed, could he? Dealing with Malfoy took a saint’s patience, something Ron most certainly did not possess.
“Can you just…” Ron trailed off suddenly, again at a loss for words. Malfoy stood leaning against the doorframe in bare feet looking as if he truly belonged there and Ron had to swallow a surge of intense dislike. ‘Dislike, not hate…see I’m improving.’ Ron thought to himself as Malfoy arched one elegant brow at Ron’s reticence.
“Just don’t you ever hurt him Malfoy, or I’ll hurt you more.” Ron took a step closer, adding, “And believe me, I know how.”
Malfoy raised his eyes to the ceiling in supplication, sighing deeply as if trying to draw patience from somewhere. Ron understood the feeling. Wait, had he just admitted to understanding something about Malfoy? Maybe the world was coming to an end after all.
“Yes, I’m well aware of your capability for destruction, Weasley, I was there at the last battle remember?” Malfoy returned dryly, and Ron blanched. He pushed the picture out of his mind and focused on the words Malfoy was now speaking.
“But since you have not yet figured it out, let me enlighten you about my intentions, Weasley.” Malfoy fixed him with a fierce grey gaze. “I have wanted Harry for seven very long years, and you can rest assured that now he’s finally mine, I’ll be damned if I do anything that would hurt him or push him away.”
He paused for effect, leaning closer to Ron.
“I intend to make him blissfully happy for the rest of his life…Ron.” He added Ron’s name with palpable distaste, but it was still a far cry for a sneered ‘Weasel.’
‘Shit.’ Ron thought. ‘The bastard is trying to be nice.’
“You just watch and see.” Malfoy added, leaning back against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. He took a close look at Ron’s wide eyes before curling a lip and stating, “Come back at seven.”
With that he stepped back and closed the door firmly in Ron’s shocked face.
Chapter Eleven