Fic: For Those Left Behind, Ron/Draco, Ron/Harry, Ten of Swords
Title: For Those Left Behind
Author: Janet Lynn aka strickens_girl
Type: Fic
Main Character or Pairing: Ron/Draco, mentions Harry/Ron
Card: Ten of Swords
Card Interpretation: Bottoming out or victim mentality. (from learntarot.com) One meaning of the Ten of Swords is hitting rock bottom. When one disaster follows another, we feel devastated at first, but eventually we throw up our hands and laugh. It's so bad, it's funny! In films, the hero says, "What else could possibly go wrong?" and we know that's a signal for the bucket of water to fall on his head. When you see the Ten of Swords, know that the last bucket has fallen, and you can expect a turn for the better. This card can also show when you're in victim mentality. You're certain that the whole world is picking on you just to make your life difficult. I picture the man lifting his head and saying, "You think you've got it bad...a cut on the finger. I've got ten swords in my back...count 'em - ten!" Then he drops his head back down with a sigh. When we're in victim mentality, we think everything is horrible, hopeless and impossibly unfair.
Rating: Mature/Adults Only (R or so)
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, sad as that is. Gratefully using characters and likenesses for entertainment purposes.
Summary: After the final battle the in the Great War, Ron and Draco have to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.
Word Count: 4,292 - One off.
Author's Notes: Special thanks to my lovely sister, Steph, for the lovely and quick beta. Without her help, nearly all the spells would have been spelled wrong. *shakes head* Also, thanks to ravenna_c_tan for inviting me to join. This has been wonderful. I hope you all enjoy.
For Those Left Behind
Ron remembered the first time they touched. It seemed odd that they had known each other all their lives and the first time they ever touched wasn't until after they had both turned eighteen but it was the truth. Both born into pureblood families, the boys often found themselves at the same functions but they never interacted, each ignoring the other. Even when they entered school in the same year they never so much as shook hands in greeting.
No, Ron and Draco never so much as shared more than contemptuous glares.
So that first touch was forever burned the freckled boy's memory.
The air had been filled with smoke and crackled with magical energy as the final battle raged. Ron's job was simple, keep Harry safe and hidden so that when Snape gave the signal, Harry could destroy the final Horcrux. He and Hermione had done their best to keep their best friend hidden just behind the ridge while the Aurors and members of the Order battled against the Death Eaters, ready to destroy the greatest evil of their time.
They had heard the awful screams of the dying and the shouts of curses flying so close to them until finally they saw the sign. The image of a bright red phoenix flew up into the sky, piercing the Morsmordre, causing it to dissipate in the darkening sky. Ron turned as Harry threw off the invisibility cloak, ready to witness the destruction of the final Horcrux, and thus, the destruction of You-Know-Who himself.
Harry had been very secretive, refusing to tell either Ron or Hermione what the final Horcrux looked like. The two friends had spent many hours speculating what it could have been, but they never came to any definitive conclusion. The only thing they knew was that it had to be very small, since Harry came to field with just his robes, his wand and the invisibility cloak.
Ron's eyes had been busy tracking the flight of the conjured phoenix when he heard his best friend chanting the spell they had all become so familiar with: the counter-curse to destroy the final Horcrux. The redheaded boy turned just as Hermione screamed, "Harry, no!"
Ron was frozen to the spot as Harry had raised his wand and began tracing the scar that had defined him nearly his entire life. He had gasped as Hermione rushed forward to stop Harry and she was thrown back, repelled by a very powerful shielding spell. Harry had apparently gotten much better at shield charms than either of them realized.
Sparkling green eyes had locked with confused blue as Hermione continued to scream and plead for Harry to stop. Ron suddenly understood why Harry hadn't carried anything out onto the field, it had been with him all along.
Harry had chanted, Hermione had cried and Ron had watched as his best friend's face split and bled as the final piece of Voldemort's soul was expelled from his scar. As the spell finished, Harry had collapsed to his knees, panting for breath, as Ron heard the killing curse cast loud and clear. Snape and Lupin finally ending the reign of the Dark Lord.
Ron had stood frozen long after Harry had collapsed completely. The shield had collapsed along with The-Boy-Who-Lived and Hermione rushed forward, taking the dying boy into her arms.
The sound of feet rushing up behind him didn't stop Ron from staring at the scene before him. Hermione wept, running her wand over the open wound, trying charm after charm, spell after spell, trying to keep Harry alive.
But Ron knew it was pointless. He watched as the light that shone in the brilliant green eyes slowly began to fade. The redheaded boy felt numb and heavy, like everything in the world was wrong somehow, like he was looking at the negative of a Muggle photograph and nothing was the way it should be.
A quiet whisper brushed Ron's ear, soft and gentle through the continued fighting. Slowly, the words seeped into Ron's brain.
"I'm so sorry."
The voice, so familiar - the tone, nearly unrecognizable. Draco was there, trying to comfort him.
Then he felt it, a tender brush of knuckles, Draco had gently brushed their hands together. It was so gentle that Ron could almost disregard it if he hadn't known Draco better. If there was one thing he knew about the Slytherin boy, it was that Draco never did anything by accident.
That was the first time they had touched.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The second time they touched may have seemed ambiguous, maybe even mundane to anyone who did not know the two young men. It was simple and discreet, even those who knew them wouldn't think it too much out of the ordinary.
But Ron knew differently.
It had been a rough day at the Wizengamots for everyone involved. The trial of Draco Malfoy had been highly anticipated, with convicted Death Eater testifying against him and member of the Order of the Phoenix for him. In the end, the trial had taken over twelve hours, but it was the testimony of Severus Snape and Ron himself that spared Draco's life.
Snape had been exonerated in his own trial several weeks before. Dumbledore's own diaries proved that the potion's master had followed the Headmaster's commands all along. Many people didn't want to believe it, but the truth could not be denied and Snape had even received the Order of Merlin.
Draco had not been so lucky. While he had switched sides at a critical time during the war and had been instrumental in the final battle, the young man had admitted his part in the plot to allow Death Eaters into Hogwarts and that he had been given the order to kill the Headmaster after receiving the Dark Mark.
The whole of the Wizengamots was in an uproar when Draco was sentenced to five years in Azkaban. The Wizard prison was certainly different without the presence of Dementors, but five years imprisoned without the use of magic, especially for a pureblood like Draco, could feel like a lifetime.
As Draco was being led off by the Aurors, he stopped directly in front of Ron. They stared at each other for a long time, silent as stone. Finally, Draco held out his hand.
In a daze, Ron had taken it tentatively. As soon as they touched, skin to skin, it felt like electricity shot through them. Ron gasped, staring deeply into grey eyes for any sign of sarcasm or deceit. Seeing none, the redheaded boy smiled lightly. The smile was returned and as Ron tried to slip his hand away, Draco only held on tighter.
"I'm allowed up to three visitors in Azkaban," Draco had whispered above the commotion.
"Is that so?" Ron answered. "I'm sure people will be clamoring for a spot to see Draco Malfoy."
Draco had chuckled lightly, squeezing the hand in his own before turning to leave with the guards for his prison cell.
For days after, Ron was sure he could still feel the tingle from the other boy's hand in his own.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was nearly three years before they touched again.
It seemed like a long time to Ron, it must have seemed even longer for Draco. Azkaban had changed but it was still a prison. The Dementors were gone, banished after they had sided with Voldemort in the Great War, so the prison at least did not have the same oppressive air it once held. Still, it was frightening and Ron had shuddered every time he went to visit the blond boy.
Ron found it fascinating that he was still allowed to visit the incarcerated Malfoy. Prisoners were only allowed three visitors a month and they had to be pre-approved by the Ministry before each visit. But every time he went, the redhead was granted entrance.
For so long, they had visited every month. Ron would tell Draco all the gossip that never made it into the Daily Prophet, sharing stories about mutual acquaintances and famous figures. The blond boy often enquired about Snape and Hermione, enjoying each story that Ron would relate.
It seemed to be the highlight of the freckled boy's month, considering most of his time was spent either touring the circuit discussing his book on the life and death of the savior of the wizarding world, or he was shut in his home with bottles of firewhiskey as his only companions. In comparison, Azkaban didn't seem so bad.
He had been running late that day. Time had become something that meant little to nothing to the young man anymore. He nodded to each of the guards as he entered, still amazed at the technology used in the institution. Azkaban was employing state of the art spells used to secure the prisoners. Draining a wizard or witch of their magic to power the shielding charms to keep them in was downright brilliant. It was no wonder Hermione was moving so quickly up the ranks at the Ministry of Magic.
Ron couldn't help but smile at the blond head waiting at their usual table.
"It's about time," Draco nearly growled as Ron settled down his normal seat.
"Nice to see you too, Malfoy," Ron replied with a smile that felt fake plastered on his face.
They chatted as they always had, small talk and simple gossip quickly out of the way, before Draco finally breached the big question.
"So, I see Granger is getting married."
Ron flinched at the statement as if he'd been hit. He'd figured that the other man was getting copies of the paper by the way he was able to talk about events outside the prison, but it was still a shock.
"Yeah, she and Krum decided to make their engagement public."
"How long have you known?"
Ron sighed, dragging his hands through his overlong, shaggy hair. "A while, actually. Hermione and I broke up not too long after the war."
Grey eyes had narrowed, piercing the other boy with its stare. "You lied to me."
"No," Ron argued, "I just didn't tell you the whole truth. There's a difference."
"Sure," Draco had drawled, a smirk on his face. "It's only a difference that'll wind up with you in here, Weasel."
Ron smiled at the teasing name. It was familiar and easy, like slipping into his favorite old robe. It was easier than dealing with everything else.
"Whatever, Ferret-boy. It's not like you care or anything."
They had sat in silence for a long while until Draco finally whispered, "Is it because you're gay?"
Blue eyes stared open and frozen, the shock causing the young man's mouth to hang open, making him look like he'd been hit with a curse. When he was finally able to move again, Ron gasped out, "What?!"
"Come on, Ron," Draco whispered as he leaned in closer. "You don't have to lie to me. I already know about you and Potter. It's not like you're going to shock me with your dangerous liaisons. I saw enough to know."
The redheaded boy flailed for a moment, lost in a million questions and emotions. He didn't talk about this, not to anyone, not ever. But Malfoy knew, so it should have been safe, right?
"What do you mean you saw?"
Draco took a deep breath, staring at his clasped hands before staring deep into Ron's pleading eyes. "The day before the final battle, I noticed that after Harry had his big fight with Snape and Lupin, he took off into the woods. I also noticed that you followed him. I took off after the both of you because I had seen that look in Potter's eyes before and I was worried. Imagine my surprise when I found that you two weren't fighting like I'd figured you would be."
Ron tore his eyes away from Draco's, remembering that day and not wanting to see the disgust or contempt from the other man.
"It's okay to talk about it, you know," the soft voice whispered, soothing Ron's frayed nerves. "You're not tainting his memory by telling me."
The mop of red hair bobbed as Ron frantically nodded his head. He took a deep breath and sighed.
"It wasn't anything that we meant to happen or anything, you know. We'd been traveling for weeks, searching for those bloody Horcruxes, translated spells and clues, dodging Death Eaters and booby traps every time we turned around. It was hell living out of tents and using as little magic as possible to keep from being detected.
"We had just finished a particularly rough task that left all three of us with cuts and bruises when Lupin showed up."
Ron raised his head and stared at Draco with sad eyes.
"He came to tell us that you and Snape had shown up."
Draco's eyes turned cold but Ron forged on.
"Harry and Lupin got into a huge fight. Harry refused to believe that you and Snape could actually be working on our side, not after what he saw. It was awful. Lupin finally had to show him part of Dumbledore's diaries before he would believe it, but he still wasn't happy.
"After Lupin left, Harry stormed off into our tent. I went after him to try to talk to him. There really wasn't anything he could do out in the middle of nowhere. Lupin was the one in charge of The Order and you two were his problem, not ours.
"I reached out and touched his shoulder and he whipped around so fast, I fell over, staring up at him from the floor. Harry got this look in his eye, one that I'd never seen before. He was wild and almost out of control. Before I could even say anything, he was on top of me, kissing me.
"I honestly thought I had gone crazy. It was just too much. He was licking me and biting at my lips and…"
Ron broke off for a minute, overwhelmed by the memories of that very first time.
"Did he take you that first time?" Draco asked barely above a whisper.
Ron nodded slowly. "Yeah, it was awkward and painful. Neither one of us really knew what we were doing. I didn't - you know- that first time. But Harry did. The worst part was that afterward, we just laid there for a long time, his forehead resting on my back, while he caught his breath. And said, real miserable like, 'Thanks, Ron. I really didn't want to die a virgin.'
"That's when I knew. He was scared because he knew he was going to die."
Silence reigned between them until the blond boy finally whispered, "He knew more than all of us, didn't he?"
Ron continued to stare at hands clasped on top of the table.
"So, this became a regular thing between you two?"
"Yeah," the redheaded boy answered. "It became about comfort for both of us. He needed an outlet and I was there. After a while, it really didn't seem to be a burden anymore, you know?"
Draco snorted softly, lightening the mood for both of them.
"Hey, I was just turned eighteen and had been a virgin up until then. Harry turned out to be a bloody brilliant shag. And I thought that was all it was until…"
Draco silently urged Ron to tell his story, his grey eyes pleading for the other boy to open his soul to him.
"The day he died. That was different. He took me while I was lying on my back like a girl. I was embarrassed at first. We never, you know, looked at each other before, but he just stared into my eyes the whole time, like he was trying to tell me something without having to say anything. When he came he said he loved me, that he was doing this for me.
"I never really understood what he meant until after he died. I heard Snape telling Mad-Eye Moody that Dumbledore had once said that Harry's weapon against You-Know-Who would be his love. It wasn't a love for me, maybe so much, but his love for us, all of us."
Ron laughed bitterly. "Not that it matters. He's still dead and we're still left behind."
A flash of blond hair caught Ron's eye as he tried to sink down into his usual pit of depression. Then that soft, warm tenor washed over him as Draco practically purred, "My father once told me that the life of a martyr was easy, but the most difficult life is being one of those left behind."
Then there was that brush of flesh, fingertips rubbing lightly over dry, cracked, neglected knuckles. A jolt of electricity shot through Ron and he pushed his hand up into the touch, aching for more.
But there was no more touch when the guards rushed over, pulling the two men apart. They had dared to break one of the cardinal rules of visiting day. It was on the wall, written in stone.
No touching.
Draco was rushed back to his cell and Ron was escorted out of the prison. Before he was pushed out of the prison doors, the young redhead was told not to bother trying to visit next month.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was three months before Ron was allowed to visit again. It had been a difficult three months, nearly as bad as the first three months following the war. He stayed in most of the time, answering a few owls here and there, knowing that if he ignored Hermione or McGonagall for too long, they would come over, and he couldn't have that.
The dreams started again. They were vivid and painful and Ron often woke with tears on his face and a wet spot in his pants. But every now and then, he didn't see black hair and eyes of emeralds, but pure white and steely grey.
He wasn't sure which was worse.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ron was finally allowed to visit again and it felt like a lifetime. Looking Draco, it seemed it might have been.
The blond hair that was normally perfectly groomed looked scraggly and unkempt. It was growing long, nearly down the middle of his back, just like his father's. The young man looked older too, as if the Dementors had returned and were sucking every bit of happiness out of him.
Once they had gotten the small talk done, Ron asked, "So, what's going on? You look like right shite."
"Thanks, Weasel," Draco growled testily. "Glad you think I've taken the dive."
"It's not that, Malfoy," Ron soothed. "It's just that I've never seen you look like this. Not even during the war. Something has to be wrong. Just tell me, okay."
The blond boy took a deep breath before answering. "The Ministry has decided that since my mother died in the war and my father was executed last month, that Malfoy Manor and all the assets associated with the Malfoy fortune would become property of the Ministry. I'll even lose my trust fund as reparations for my war crimes."
Ron stared, stunned. He had never heard of such a thing. He knew that had to be a difficult thing for the boy whose entire family had lived in splendor and privilege for generations.
"I'm sorry," the freckled boy whispered, although it sounded inadequate even to his own ears. "You know, it's not the end of the world."
"What?! Like you know, Weasel! Just because you're whole family is poor doesn't mean I have to be."
Ron sat up, horrified. The words hit hard, stinging like a physical blow. He stood quickly, ready to leave, when he heard the desperate tone in Draco's voice.
"Ron, please, I'm so sorry. I just don't know what…I mean, I've never…I don't know what I'm going to do."
He turned, ready to throw any insult back in the other boy's pointy face, when he saw the pain shining in the shimmering silver-colored eyes. Slowly, he returned to his seat, his face still hard and grim.
"Snape has been holding an apprenticeship for you, you know. He's quite busy brewing specialty potions now that he's no longer at Hogwarts. He's had several inquiries about the position but he tells everyone that it's being held for a special student. I'm assuming that's you. He's even doing research, or so my publisher tells me."
"Ah, yes," Draco drawled, bitterness coloring his voice. "How is the new book coming along?"
Ron blushed and stared at his fingers. It really hadn't surprised him that Draco had heard. The announcement had been The Daily Prophet just the week before.
"Slowly, if I'm to be honest with you. Snape isn't the most cooperative person in the world but he did see a lot of Harry's childhood while he was teaching him Occlumency. Even I didn't know some of the things I've seen in the pensieve. It's awful, really. Almost worse than spending time with those terrible Muggles he called family. I almost wish I hadn't agreed to write another bloody book."
"Then why did you?"
Ron stared for a moment. "I have my reasons."
Draco simply nodded. Maybe someday they'd both understand why people do what they do when they are desperate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ron stood outside Azkaban, staring up at the huge stone wall, wondering what he was doing here at all. Draco hadn't told him he was being released, in truth, no one really knew. The youngest Weasley boy had finally convinced Hermione to use her connections at the Ministry to get Draco's exact release date. He couldn't believe that the Malfoy Heir had refused to tell even his godfather when he was coming home.
Not that Draco had a home to go to anymore.
Ron waited so long that he was sure that Hermione had the date wrong. He was almost ready to leave when he saw a familiar flash of white hair slip through the prison's front gates. He smiled and waved, sure that Draco would be happy to see him.
He couldn't be farther from the truth.
Draco practically growled as he walked up to the still smiling redhead. "What the bloody hell do you think you are doing here?"
"Taking you home," Ron replied softly, a small smile on his face.
"I don't have a home, in case you forgot."
"No, but I do." Then, before Draco could say a word, Ron grabbed him and held him close as he apparated them both to his home.
Draco stopped and looked around, his eyes wide. "Wait. This is on my property."
"What used to be your property," Ron corrected. "The Ministry parceled off your land and sold it at auction. I bought one and built a house. Now, it's my home."
Unbelieving grey eyes stared at him. "That's why you agreed to write that second book."
Ron chuckled softly. "Yeah, the bonus was too large to pass up. I figured this way, you could still live on Malfoy land even if you have to live with me. I mean, if you want to."
The two men stood stock still, staring at each other for several long minutes, neither one knowing what to say. Ron was afraid. Afraid he'd over stepped his bounds, that Draco would say no. Hell, Draco just might say yes. But he wanted this. Wanted this more than he could say.
Finally, Draco stepped forward, turned the knob of the door and stepped inside.
Ron followed.
"Sorry I didn't get a chance to clean up," Ron apologized as he walked in. He looked around at the mess and grimaced. He suddenly really wished he had cleaned up. Crumpled paper and half empty bottles and glasses littered the front room. It was more than a little dirty and smelled more than a little rank, but it was theirs, if they wanted it to be.
"No," Draco whispered. "It's perfect. I think, somehow, it fits."
And that was the third time they touched. When Draco ran warm fingertips over Ron's cheek. And the fourth time, when his lips brushed Ron's, a soft tongue slipping out to taste sweetly. The fifth and sixth, slipping beneath the worn cotton shirt and the faded denim jeans.
Ron cataloged them all. Every last one. From the slick tongue on his cock to the sweet slide of the hard cock in his arse. It was hot and fresh and new and right.
It was their start - their new start. Where they never stopped touching and never stopped trying. It was the best they could do. They were still broken but no longer alone. From here, they had no place to go but up and they could break free of the curse of living.
~~~~ The End ~~~~
Author: Janet Lynn aka strickens_girl
Type: Fic
Main Character or Pairing: Ron/Draco, mentions Harry/Ron
Card: Ten of Swords
Card Interpretation: Bottoming out or victim mentality. (from learntarot.com) One meaning of the Ten of Swords is hitting rock bottom. When one disaster follows another, we feel devastated at first, but eventually we throw up our hands and laugh. It's so bad, it's funny! In films, the hero says, "What else could possibly go wrong?" and we know that's a signal for the bucket of water to fall on his head. When you see the Ten of Swords, know that the last bucket has fallen, and you can expect a turn for the better. This card can also show when you're in victim mentality. You're certain that the whole world is picking on you just to make your life difficult. I picture the man lifting his head and saying, "You think you've got it bad...a cut on the finger. I've got ten swords in my back...count 'em - ten!" Then he drops his head back down with a sigh. When we're in victim mentality, we think everything is horrible, hopeless and impossibly unfair.
Rating: Mature/Adults Only (R or so)
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, sad as that is. Gratefully using characters and likenesses for entertainment purposes.
Summary: After the final battle the in the Great War, Ron and Draco have to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.
Word Count: 4,292 - One off.
Author's Notes: Special thanks to my lovely sister, Steph, for the lovely and quick beta. Without her help, nearly all the spells would have been spelled wrong. *shakes head* Also, thanks to ravenna_c_tan for inviting me to join. This has been wonderful. I hope you all enjoy.
For Those Left Behind
Ron remembered the first time they touched. It seemed odd that they had known each other all their lives and the first time they ever touched wasn't until after they had both turned eighteen but it was the truth. Both born into pureblood families, the boys often found themselves at the same functions but they never interacted, each ignoring the other. Even when they entered school in the same year they never so much as shook hands in greeting.
No, Ron and Draco never so much as shared more than contemptuous glares.
So that first touch was forever burned the freckled boy's memory.
The air had been filled with smoke and crackled with magical energy as the final battle raged. Ron's job was simple, keep Harry safe and hidden so that when Snape gave the signal, Harry could destroy the final Horcrux. He and Hermione had done their best to keep their best friend hidden just behind the ridge while the Aurors and members of the Order battled against the Death Eaters, ready to destroy the greatest evil of their time.
They had heard the awful screams of the dying and the shouts of curses flying so close to them until finally they saw the sign. The image of a bright red phoenix flew up into the sky, piercing the Morsmordre, causing it to dissipate in the darkening sky. Ron turned as Harry threw off the invisibility cloak, ready to witness the destruction of the final Horcrux, and thus, the destruction of You-Know-Who himself.
Harry had been very secretive, refusing to tell either Ron or Hermione what the final Horcrux looked like. The two friends had spent many hours speculating what it could have been, but they never came to any definitive conclusion. The only thing they knew was that it had to be very small, since Harry came to field with just his robes, his wand and the invisibility cloak.
Ron's eyes had been busy tracking the flight of the conjured phoenix when he heard his best friend chanting the spell they had all become so familiar with: the counter-curse to destroy the final Horcrux. The redheaded boy turned just as Hermione screamed, "Harry, no!"
Ron was frozen to the spot as Harry had raised his wand and began tracing the scar that had defined him nearly his entire life. He had gasped as Hermione rushed forward to stop Harry and she was thrown back, repelled by a very powerful shielding spell. Harry had apparently gotten much better at shield charms than either of them realized.
Sparkling green eyes had locked with confused blue as Hermione continued to scream and plead for Harry to stop. Ron suddenly understood why Harry hadn't carried anything out onto the field, it had been with him all along.
Harry had chanted, Hermione had cried and Ron had watched as his best friend's face split and bled as the final piece of Voldemort's soul was expelled from his scar. As the spell finished, Harry had collapsed to his knees, panting for breath, as Ron heard the killing curse cast loud and clear. Snape and Lupin finally ending the reign of the Dark Lord.
Ron had stood frozen long after Harry had collapsed completely. The shield had collapsed along with The-Boy-Who-Lived and Hermione rushed forward, taking the dying boy into her arms.
The sound of feet rushing up behind him didn't stop Ron from staring at the scene before him. Hermione wept, running her wand over the open wound, trying charm after charm, spell after spell, trying to keep Harry alive.
But Ron knew it was pointless. He watched as the light that shone in the brilliant green eyes slowly began to fade. The redheaded boy felt numb and heavy, like everything in the world was wrong somehow, like he was looking at the negative of a Muggle photograph and nothing was the way it should be.
A quiet whisper brushed Ron's ear, soft and gentle through the continued fighting. Slowly, the words seeped into Ron's brain.
"I'm so sorry."
The voice, so familiar - the tone, nearly unrecognizable. Draco was there, trying to comfort him.
Then he felt it, a tender brush of knuckles, Draco had gently brushed their hands together. It was so gentle that Ron could almost disregard it if he hadn't known Draco better. If there was one thing he knew about the Slytherin boy, it was that Draco never did anything by accident.
That was the first time they had touched.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The second time they touched may have seemed ambiguous, maybe even mundane to anyone who did not know the two young men. It was simple and discreet, even those who knew them wouldn't think it too much out of the ordinary.
But Ron knew differently.
It had been a rough day at the Wizengamots for everyone involved. The trial of Draco Malfoy had been highly anticipated, with convicted Death Eater testifying against him and member of the Order of the Phoenix for him. In the end, the trial had taken over twelve hours, but it was the testimony of Severus Snape and Ron himself that spared Draco's life.
Snape had been exonerated in his own trial several weeks before. Dumbledore's own diaries proved that the potion's master had followed the Headmaster's commands all along. Many people didn't want to believe it, but the truth could not be denied and Snape had even received the Order of Merlin.
Draco had not been so lucky. While he had switched sides at a critical time during the war and had been instrumental in the final battle, the young man had admitted his part in the plot to allow Death Eaters into Hogwarts and that he had been given the order to kill the Headmaster after receiving the Dark Mark.
The whole of the Wizengamots was in an uproar when Draco was sentenced to five years in Azkaban. The Wizard prison was certainly different without the presence of Dementors, but five years imprisoned without the use of magic, especially for a pureblood like Draco, could feel like a lifetime.
As Draco was being led off by the Aurors, he stopped directly in front of Ron. They stared at each other for a long time, silent as stone. Finally, Draco held out his hand.
In a daze, Ron had taken it tentatively. As soon as they touched, skin to skin, it felt like electricity shot through them. Ron gasped, staring deeply into grey eyes for any sign of sarcasm or deceit. Seeing none, the redheaded boy smiled lightly. The smile was returned and as Ron tried to slip his hand away, Draco only held on tighter.
"I'm allowed up to three visitors in Azkaban," Draco had whispered above the commotion.
"Is that so?" Ron answered. "I'm sure people will be clamoring for a spot to see Draco Malfoy."
Draco had chuckled lightly, squeezing the hand in his own before turning to leave with the guards for his prison cell.
For days after, Ron was sure he could still feel the tingle from the other boy's hand in his own.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was nearly three years before they touched again.
It seemed like a long time to Ron, it must have seemed even longer for Draco. Azkaban had changed but it was still a prison. The Dementors were gone, banished after they had sided with Voldemort in the Great War, so the prison at least did not have the same oppressive air it once held. Still, it was frightening and Ron had shuddered every time he went to visit the blond boy.
Ron found it fascinating that he was still allowed to visit the incarcerated Malfoy. Prisoners were only allowed three visitors a month and they had to be pre-approved by the Ministry before each visit. But every time he went, the redhead was granted entrance.
For so long, they had visited every month. Ron would tell Draco all the gossip that never made it into the Daily Prophet, sharing stories about mutual acquaintances and famous figures. The blond boy often enquired about Snape and Hermione, enjoying each story that Ron would relate.
It seemed to be the highlight of the freckled boy's month, considering most of his time was spent either touring the circuit discussing his book on the life and death of the savior of the wizarding world, or he was shut in his home with bottles of firewhiskey as his only companions. In comparison, Azkaban didn't seem so bad.
He had been running late that day. Time had become something that meant little to nothing to the young man anymore. He nodded to each of the guards as he entered, still amazed at the technology used in the institution. Azkaban was employing state of the art spells used to secure the prisoners. Draining a wizard or witch of their magic to power the shielding charms to keep them in was downright brilliant. It was no wonder Hermione was moving so quickly up the ranks at the Ministry of Magic.
Ron couldn't help but smile at the blond head waiting at their usual table.
"It's about time," Draco nearly growled as Ron settled down his normal seat.
"Nice to see you too, Malfoy," Ron replied with a smile that felt fake plastered on his face.
They chatted as they always had, small talk and simple gossip quickly out of the way, before Draco finally breached the big question.
"So, I see Granger is getting married."
Ron flinched at the statement as if he'd been hit. He'd figured that the other man was getting copies of the paper by the way he was able to talk about events outside the prison, but it was still a shock.
"Yeah, she and Krum decided to make their engagement public."
"How long have you known?"
Ron sighed, dragging his hands through his overlong, shaggy hair. "A while, actually. Hermione and I broke up not too long after the war."
Grey eyes had narrowed, piercing the other boy with its stare. "You lied to me."
"No," Ron argued, "I just didn't tell you the whole truth. There's a difference."
"Sure," Draco had drawled, a smirk on his face. "It's only a difference that'll wind up with you in here, Weasel."
Ron smiled at the teasing name. It was familiar and easy, like slipping into his favorite old robe. It was easier than dealing with everything else.
"Whatever, Ferret-boy. It's not like you care or anything."
They had sat in silence for a long while until Draco finally whispered, "Is it because you're gay?"
Blue eyes stared open and frozen, the shock causing the young man's mouth to hang open, making him look like he'd been hit with a curse. When he was finally able to move again, Ron gasped out, "What?!"
"Come on, Ron," Draco whispered as he leaned in closer. "You don't have to lie to me. I already know about you and Potter. It's not like you're going to shock me with your dangerous liaisons. I saw enough to know."
The redheaded boy flailed for a moment, lost in a million questions and emotions. He didn't talk about this, not to anyone, not ever. But Malfoy knew, so it should have been safe, right?
"What do you mean you saw?"
Draco took a deep breath, staring at his clasped hands before staring deep into Ron's pleading eyes. "The day before the final battle, I noticed that after Harry had his big fight with Snape and Lupin, he took off into the woods. I also noticed that you followed him. I took off after the both of you because I had seen that look in Potter's eyes before and I was worried. Imagine my surprise when I found that you two weren't fighting like I'd figured you would be."
Ron tore his eyes away from Draco's, remembering that day and not wanting to see the disgust or contempt from the other man.
"It's okay to talk about it, you know," the soft voice whispered, soothing Ron's frayed nerves. "You're not tainting his memory by telling me."
The mop of red hair bobbed as Ron frantically nodded his head. He took a deep breath and sighed.
"It wasn't anything that we meant to happen or anything, you know. We'd been traveling for weeks, searching for those bloody Horcruxes, translated spells and clues, dodging Death Eaters and booby traps every time we turned around. It was hell living out of tents and using as little magic as possible to keep from being detected.
"We had just finished a particularly rough task that left all three of us with cuts and bruises when Lupin showed up."
Ron raised his head and stared at Draco with sad eyes.
"He came to tell us that you and Snape had shown up."
Draco's eyes turned cold but Ron forged on.
"Harry and Lupin got into a huge fight. Harry refused to believe that you and Snape could actually be working on our side, not after what he saw. It was awful. Lupin finally had to show him part of Dumbledore's diaries before he would believe it, but he still wasn't happy.
"After Lupin left, Harry stormed off into our tent. I went after him to try to talk to him. There really wasn't anything he could do out in the middle of nowhere. Lupin was the one in charge of The Order and you two were his problem, not ours.
"I reached out and touched his shoulder and he whipped around so fast, I fell over, staring up at him from the floor. Harry got this look in his eye, one that I'd never seen before. He was wild and almost out of control. Before I could even say anything, he was on top of me, kissing me.
"I honestly thought I had gone crazy. It was just too much. He was licking me and biting at my lips and…"
Ron broke off for a minute, overwhelmed by the memories of that very first time.
"Did he take you that first time?" Draco asked barely above a whisper.
Ron nodded slowly. "Yeah, it was awkward and painful. Neither one of us really knew what we were doing. I didn't - you know- that first time. But Harry did. The worst part was that afterward, we just laid there for a long time, his forehead resting on my back, while he caught his breath. And said, real miserable like, 'Thanks, Ron. I really didn't want to die a virgin.'
"That's when I knew. He was scared because he knew he was going to die."
Silence reigned between them until the blond boy finally whispered, "He knew more than all of us, didn't he?"
Ron continued to stare at hands clasped on top of the table.
"So, this became a regular thing between you two?"
"Yeah," the redheaded boy answered. "It became about comfort for both of us. He needed an outlet and I was there. After a while, it really didn't seem to be a burden anymore, you know?"
Draco snorted softly, lightening the mood for both of them.
"Hey, I was just turned eighteen and had been a virgin up until then. Harry turned out to be a bloody brilliant shag. And I thought that was all it was until…"
Draco silently urged Ron to tell his story, his grey eyes pleading for the other boy to open his soul to him.
"The day he died. That was different. He took me while I was lying on my back like a girl. I was embarrassed at first. We never, you know, looked at each other before, but he just stared into my eyes the whole time, like he was trying to tell me something without having to say anything. When he came he said he loved me, that he was doing this for me.
"I never really understood what he meant until after he died. I heard Snape telling Mad-Eye Moody that Dumbledore had once said that Harry's weapon against You-Know-Who would be his love. It wasn't a love for me, maybe so much, but his love for us, all of us."
Ron laughed bitterly. "Not that it matters. He's still dead and we're still left behind."
A flash of blond hair caught Ron's eye as he tried to sink down into his usual pit of depression. Then that soft, warm tenor washed over him as Draco practically purred, "My father once told me that the life of a martyr was easy, but the most difficult life is being one of those left behind."
Then there was that brush of flesh, fingertips rubbing lightly over dry, cracked, neglected knuckles. A jolt of electricity shot through Ron and he pushed his hand up into the touch, aching for more.
But there was no more touch when the guards rushed over, pulling the two men apart. They had dared to break one of the cardinal rules of visiting day. It was on the wall, written in stone.
No touching.
Draco was rushed back to his cell and Ron was escorted out of the prison. Before he was pushed out of the prison doors, the young redhead was told not to bother trying to visit next month.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was three months before Ron was allowed to visit again. It had been a difficult three months, nearly as bad as the first three months following the war. He stayed in most of the time, answering a few owls here and there, knowing that if he ignored Hermione or McGonagall for too long, they would come over, and he couldn't have that.
The dreams started again. They were vivid and painful and Ron often woke with tears on his face and a wet spot in his pants. But every now and then, he didn't see black hair and eyes of emeralds, but pure white and steely grey.
He wasn't sure which was worse.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ron was finally allowed to visit again and it felt like a lifetime. Looking Draco, it seemed it might have been.
The blond hair that was normally perfectly groomed looked scraggly and unkempt. It was growing long, nearly down the middle of his back, just like his father's. The young man looked older too, as if the Dementors had returned and were sucking every bit of happiness out of him.
Once they had gotten the small talk done, Ron asked, "So, what's going on? You look like right shite."
"Thanks, Weasel," Draco growled testily. "Glad you think I've taken the dive."
"It's not that, Malfoy," Ron soothed. "It's just that I've never seen you look like this. Not even during the war. Something has to be wrong. Just tell me, okay."
The blond boy took a deep breath before answering. "The Ministry has decided that since my mother died in the war and my father was executed last month, that Malfoy Manor and all the assets associated with the Malfoy fortune would become property of the Ministry. I'll even lose my trust fund as reparations for my war crimes."
Ron stared, stunned. He had never heard of such a thing. He knew that had to be a difficult thing for the boy whose entire family had lived in splendor and privilege for generations.
"I'm sorry," the freckled boy whispered, although it sounded inadequate even to his own ears. "You know, it's not the end of the world."
"What?! Like you know, Weasel! Just because you're whole family is poor doesn't mean I have to be."
Ron sat up, horrified. The words hit hard, stinging like a physical blow. He stood quickly, ready to leave, when he heard the desperate tone in Draco's voice.
"Ron, please, I'm so sorry. I just don't know what…I mean, I've never…I don't know what I'm going to do."
He turned, ready to throw any insult back in the other boy's pointy face, when he saw the pain shining in the shimmering silver-colored eyes. Slowly, he returned to his seat, his face still hard and grim.
"Snape has been holding an apprenticeship for you, you know. He's quite busy brewing specialty potions now that he's no longer at Hogwarts. He's had several inquiries about the position but he tells everyone that it's being held for a special student. I'm assuming that's you. He's even doing research, or so my publisher tells me."
"Ah, yes," Draco drawled, bitterness coloring his voice. "How is the new book coming along?"
Ron blushed and stared at his fingers. It really hadn't surprised him that Draco had heard. The announcement had been The Daily Prophet just the week before.
"Slowly, if I'm to be honest with you. Snape isn't the most cooperative person in the world but he did see a lot of Harry's childhood while he was teaching him Occlumency. Even I didn't know some of the things I've seen in the pensieve. It's awful, really. Almost worse than spending time with those terrible Muggles he called family. I almost wish I hadn't agreed to write another bloody book."
"Then why did you?"
Ron stared for a moment. "I have my reasons."
Draco simply nodded. Maybe someday they'd both understand why people do what they do when they are desperate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ron stood outside Azkaban, staring up at the huge stone wall, wondering what he was doing here at all. Draco hadn't told him he was being released, in truth, no one really knew. The youngest Weasley boy had finally convinced Hermione to use her connections at the Ministry to get Draco's exact release date. He couldn't believe that the Malfoy Heir had refused to tell even his godfather when he was coming home.
Not that Draco had a home to go to anymore.
Ron waited so long that he was sure that Hermione had the date wrong. He was almost ready to leave when he saw a familiar flash of white hair slip through the prison's front gates. He smiled and waved, sure that Draco would be happy to see him.
He couldn't be farther from the truth.
Draco practically growled as he walked up to the still smiling redhead. "What the bloody hell do you think you are doing here?"
"Taking you home," Ron replied softly, a small smile on his face.
"I don't have a home, in case you forgot."
"No, but I do." Then, before Draco could say a word, Ron grabbed him and held him close as he apparated them both to his home.
Draco stopped and looked around, his eyes wide. "Wait. This is on my property."
"What used to be your property," Ron corrected. "The Ministry parceled off your land and sold it at auction. I bought one and built a house. Now, it's my home."
Unbelieving grey eyes stared at him. "That's why you agreed to write that second book."
Ron chuckled softly. "Yeah, the bonus was too large to pass up. I figured this way, you could still live on Malfoy land even if you have to live with me. I mean, if you want to."
The two men stood stock still, staring at each other for several long minutes, neither one knowing what to say. Ron was afraid. Afraid he'd over stepped his bounds, that Draco would say no. Hell, Draco just might say yes. But he wanted this. Wanted this more than he could say.
Finally, Draco stepped forward, turned the knob of the door and stepped inside.
Ron followed.
"Sorry I didn't get a chance to clean up," Ron apologized as he walked in. He looked around at the mess and grimaced. He suddenly really wished he had cleaned up. Crumpled paper and half empty bottles and glasses littered the front room. It was more than a little dirty and smelled more than a little rank, but it was theirs, if they wanted it to be.
"No," Draco whispered. "It's perfect. I think, somehow, it fits."
And that was the third time they touched. When Draco ran warm fingertips over Ron's cheek. And the fourth time, when his lips brushed Ron's, a soft tongue slipping out to taste sweetly. The fifth and sixth, slipping beneath the worn cotton shirt and the faded denim jeans.
Ron cataloged them all. Every last one. From the slick tongue on his cock to the sweet slide of the hard cock in his arse. It was hot and fresh and new and right.
It was their start - their new start. Where they never stopped touching and never stopped trying. It was the best they could do. They were still broken but no longer alone. From here, they had no place to go but up and they could break free of the curse of living.
~~~~ The End ~~~~