The Howler [Harry Potter, Ron/Draco] Pt. 3
Title: The Howler
Part Three: Flowers
Fandom: Harry Potter
Main Pairing: Ron x Draco
Others: Ron + Harry, Ron + Hermione, Harry x Ginny, Neville, Ron + Weasley family, George x Angelina, Hagrid, Blaise
Chapter Rating: Hard R
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters do not belong to me.
Summary: When Ron displeases secret lover Draco, the Slytherin alum sends a Howler to his flat, where he knows it’ll be overheard. Now, in addition to trying to make up with Draco, Ron has to deal with explaining/denying their relationship to his friends and family.
A/N: My god, this took forever. Don’t know why; this chapter is insanely short.
When Neville came home from work that night, the first thing out of his mouth was the surprisingly anxious question, “Did the flowers work?”
Ron looked up from the couch where he and Harry were watching some boring documentary about the fight for house elves’ rights that Hermione had made them promise to watch weeks ago. He was glad for the distraction, despite the topic.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Well, no. Not really. I mean, I think he liked them, but he kinda…you know, tossed them.”
“Oh.” Neville set down a couple of potted plants by the door. He always brought home some of the older ones or the plainer ones or the wilting ones when the shop got in new shipments of fresher, more ornate stuff. He had a kind heart, that Neville, which was probably why he sounded so accepting when he continued, “You’re going to keep trying, then?”
Ron felt Harry glance at him; he’d asked the same thing when Ron had gotten back from the manor, complaining of peacocks.
“Yeah,” he said simply, decidedly. He was certain of that if nothing else. Like what he was going to tell his parents and the rest of his family when Ginny ratted him out.
“Well, I don’t really get it,” Neville said, closing the door and locking it, “but good luck, I guess.”
“Thanks, mate.”
Harry gave a noise that was half-snorting laugh, half-scoff. “He’s going to need all the luck he can get.”
Ron swatted at him, though he knew it was true. He could still see the way Draco looked at him…
Not five seconds after Neville stepped away from the door, there was a knock. It was Ginny. Ron slumped down into the couch when he saw her, but she seemed to be ignoring him. Which was good. For now, anyway.
“Harry, can I have a word?” She asked, gesturing to the hallway she was standing in. “Out here?”
“Uh, yeah.” Harry exchanged a brief look with Ron before getting up from the couch and going out in the hall, closing the door behind him.
Neville took his plants into his room and Ron turned down the volume on the television, watching the door. He couldn’t hear them, but he had a good idea of what they were talking about and she started with a “H.”
Or else they were talking about The Big Wedding.
It was unlikely that was the subject of their private hallway chat, but Ron was used to them going off on their own to talk about wedding plans. Sometimes, Ron would ask Harry about their discussions, and Harry would give him a look that meant, “Do you really think I remember everything she just prattled on about?”
He smiled fondly at the thought of his best mate and sister being engaged. He remembered vividly the night they announced it. They’d all been having dinner at an Italian restaurant, having a triple date of sorts. He and Hermione had still been together, and it was back when they’d been trying to set Neville up with Luna Lovegood. But they’d both been too painfully oblivious for any of their plans to work.
He remembered how beautiful Hermione had looked that night. Her hair had been up, her dress had been sparkling, her shoulders had been bare. She’d looked like a dream.
But Ron tried not to focus on that image for too long.
Luna had just finished talking about her and her father’s plans to go to Sweden during the Crumple-Horned Snorkack’s mating season, when the dessert came. Tiramisu. And spelled out in cocoa powder on top had been the words: “We’re engaged.”
They’d been cheers, screams of excitement, enthusiastic embraces over the table, and a couple of drinks had been spilled. And Ron remembered just how happy Harry and Ginny had looked…just as happy as he’d felt when, later that night, he had run his hands over those bare shoulders of Hermione’s, and she’d whispered in his ear, “Maybe it’ll be us, next time.”
Blinking, Ron came back to the present with a small frown. He really needed to talk to Hermione. But how could he? She probably hated him right now…
“So we weren’t sure what the flower was,” Neville was saying, and Ron realized he’d probably been talking this entire time, which made him feel guilty, so he decided to pay extra close attention, “but we found out that if you wore it, you’d be irresistible for a good three or four hours. You could use it if you want, but you’d have to make sure Malfoy was the only one who saw you during that time. Trust me. I wore it and all the little old ladies that came into the shop were hitting on me.” He grimaced at the memory, and then made a thoughtful humming noise. “Oh, but even that wouldn’t really fix things for you, would it? But it could fun, I guess.”
Ron maybe should’ve just stayed in his thoughts.
“Yeah. Fun.”
[~]
Ron dreamed about Draco Malfoy that night.
Not so much Draco Malfoy, really. More like Draco Malfoy’s arse and legs and lips and silvery hair.
Draco was hovering above him, holding himself up by his hands and knees, moaning wantonly as Ron buried his fingers deep inside the Slytherin. Draco’s face was red with desire and his arousal leaking, dripping onto Ron’s bare stomach.
Ron grinned, a mischievous smile spreading across his face as he slid his free hand down to swipe up the other man’s precum, watching as Draco’s grey eyes widened as he brought his hand up to his mouth to lick his fingers, his pulse quickening at the taste.
Draco groaned, pushing his ass back against Ron’s fingers and lifting a hand…a hand which Ron suddenly realized was holding a wand. Ron froze, blinking in confusion as Draco smiled and whispered some words while pointing the wand at his cock, and said, “I told you I’d make you regret this.”
Ron looked down, saw his penis had been turned into a bouquet of lilies and gladioluses, and screamed.
Ron sat up in his bed, sweating and still a little hard, but ultimately very, very relieved. But, hell, he wouldn’t put something like that past Draco Malfoy. It worried him a little. He sighed, running an open palm over his face. He really screwed up. He had to start thinking seriously. He had to find a way to fix this. But he…well, he just wasn’t very good at being romantic. He could try when he had to, and he knew he had to, but other than that, he…
He wrote letters.
That’s right. He wrote letters. Letters to Draco.
They were under his bed right now in a shoebox. Six months’ worth of letters that held the most intimate of his thoughts, the most confusing, the most sentimental. Maybe he could…
But no. They were so private. So embarrassing. So sappy. He couldn’t.
Shaking his head, he lied back down in bed, closed his eyes, pictured a flowering penis, and decided that he could.
Part Three: Flowers
Fandom: Harry Potter
Main Pairing: Ron x Draco
Others: Ron + Harry, Ron + Hermione, Harry x Ginny, Neville, Ron + Weasley family, George x Angelina, Hagrid, Blaise
Chapter Rating: Hard R
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters do not belong to me.
Summary: When Ron displeases secret lover Draco, the Slytherin alum sends a Howler to his flat, where he knows it’ll be overheard. Now, in addition to trying to make up with Draco, Ron has to deal with explaining/denying their relationship to his friends and family.
A/N: My god, this took forever. Don’t know why; this chapter is insanely short.
When Neville came home from work that night, the first thing out of his mouth was the surprisingly anxious question, “Did the flowers work?”
Ron looked up from the couch where he and Harry were watching some boring documentary about the fight for house elves’ rights that Hermione had made them promise to watch weeks ago. He was glad for the distraction, despite the topic.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Well, no. Not really. I mean, I think he liked them, but he kinda…you know, tossed them.”
“Oh.” Neville set down a couple of potted plants by the door. He always brought home some of the older ones or the plainer ones or the wilting ones when the shop got in new shipments of fresher, more ornate stuff. He had a kind heart, that Neville, which was probably why he sounded so accepting when he continued, “You’re going to keep trying, then?”
Ron felt Harry glance at him; he’d asked the same thing when Ron had gotten back from the manor, complaining of peacocks.
“Yeah,” he said simply, decidedly. He was certain of that if nothing else. Like what he was going to tell his parents and the rest of his family when Ginny ratted him out.
“Well, I don’t really get it,” Neville said, closing the door and locking it, “but good luck, I guess.”
“Thanks, mate.”
Harry gave a noise that was half-snorting laugh, half-scoff. “He’s going to need all the luck he can get.”
Ron swatted at him, though he knew it was true. He could still see the way Draco looked at him…
Not five seconds after Neville stepped away from the door, there was a knock. It was Ginny. Ron slumped down into the couch when he saw her, but she seemed to be ignoring him. Which was good. For now, anyway.
“Harry, can I have a word?” She asked, gesturing to the hallway she was standing in. “Out here?”
“Uh, yeah.” Harry exchanged a brief look with Ron before getting up from the couch and going out in the hall, closing the door behind him.
Neville took his plants into his room and Ron turned down the volume on the television, watching the door. He couldn’t hear them, but he had a good idea of what they were talking about and she started with a “H.”
Or else they were talking about The Big Wedding.
It was unlikely that was the subject of their private hallway chat, but Ron was used to them going off on their own to talk about wedding plans. Sometimes, Ron would ask Harry about their discussions, and Harry would give him a look that meant, “Do you really think I remember everything she just prattled on about?”
He smiled fondly at the thought of his best mate and sister being engaged. He remembered vividly the night they announced it. They’d all been having dinner at an Italian restaurant, having a triple date of sorts. He and Hermione had still been together, and it was back when they’d been trying to set Neville up with Luna Lovegood. But they’d both been too painfully oblivious for any of their plans to work.
He remembered how beautiful Hermione had looked that night. Her hair had been up, her dress had been sparkling, her shoulders had been bare. She’d looked like a dream.
But Ron tried not to focus on that image for too long.
Luna had just finished talking about her and her father’s plans to go to Sweden during the Crumple-Horned Snorkack’s mating season, when the dessert came. Tiramisu. And spelled out in cocoa powder on top had been the words: “We’re engaged.”
They’d been cheers, screams of excitement, enthusiastic embraces over the table, and a couple of drinks had been spilled. And Ron remembered just how happy Harry and Ginny had looked…just as happy as he’d felt when, later that night, he had run his hands over those bare shoulders of Hermione’s, and she’d whispered in his ear, “Maybe it’ll be us, next time.”
Blinking, Ron came back to the present with a small frown. He really needed to talk to Hermione. But how could he? She probably hated him right now…
“So we weren’t sure what the flower was,” Neville was saying, and Ron realized he’d probably been talking this entire time, which made him feel guilty, so he decided to pay extra close attention, “but we found out that if you wore it, you’d be irresistible for a good three or four hours. You could use it if you want, but you’d have to make sure Malfoy was the only one who saw you during that time. Trust me. I wore it and all the little old ladies that came into the shop were hitting on me.” He grimaced at the memory, and then made a thoughtful humming noise. “Oh, but even that wouldn’t really fix things for you, would it? But it could fun, I guess.”
Ron maybe should’ve just stayed in his thoughts.
“Yeah. Fun.”
[~]
Ron dreamed about Draco Malfoy that night.
Not so much Draco Malfoy, really. More like Draco Malfoy’s arse and legs and lips and silvery hair.
Draco was hovering above him, holding himself up by his hands and knees, moaning wantonly as Ron buried his fingers deep inside the Slytherin. Draco’s face was red with desire and his arousal leaking, dripping onto Ron’s bare stomach.
Ron grinned, a mischievous smile spreading across his face as he slid his free hand down to swipe up the other man’s precum, watching as Draco’s grey eyes widened as he brought his hand up to his mouth to lick his fingers, his pulse quickening at the taste.
Draco groaned, pushing his ass back against Ron’s fingers and lifting a hand…a hand which Ron suddenly realized was holding a wand. Ron froze, blinking in confusion as Draco smiled and whispered some words while pointing the wand at his cock, and said, “I told you I’d make you regret this.”
Ron looked down, saw his penis had been turned into a bouquet of lilies and gladioluses, and screamed.
Ron sat up in his bed, sweating and still a little hard, but ultimately very, very relieved. But, hell, he wouldn’t put something like that past Draco Malfoy. It worried him a little. He sighed, running an open palm over his face. He really screwed up. He had to start thinking seriously. He had to find a way to fix this. But he…well, he just wasn’t very good at being romantic. He could try when he had to, and he knew he had to, but other than that, he…
He wrote letters.
That’s right. He wrote letters. Letters to Draco.
They were under his bed right now in a shoebox. Six months’ worth of letters that held the most intimate of his thoughts, the most confusing, the most sentimental. Maybe he could…
But no. They were so private. So embarrassing. So sappy. He couldn’t.
Shaking his head, he lied back down in bed, closed his eyes, pictured a flowering penis, and decided that he could.