Five Stages Of Falling In Love
Guess who fails at revising and NOT writing fanfic until after tomorrow's exam?
Title: Five Stages Of Falling In Love
Word count: 300
Characters/pairings: Ron/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Summary: “Irritatingly, Ron’s recovery after the war fit the Healer’s list of prescribed emotions.”
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: The boys belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.
Author’s Notes: This was written for the current prompt at rondracodrabble, recovery. It can be split evenly into three proper drabbles, but it works so much better as a whole that I’m posting it that way.
Irritatingly, Ron’s recovery after the war fit the Healer’s list of prescribed emotions.
Denial
He went to the party that was held three days after Voldemort’s defeat, still blank. He was certain Fred was going to return, laughing at their foolishness, and he wasn’t going to miss it.
Fred didn’t come back, and he ended the night snogging Draco Malfoy in a dark corner.
Anger
The next day he was practically crawling out of his skin. He had to escape the Burrow, and headed for Diagon Alley. He strode through it, anger beating inside him like a drum, barely seeing the cheery shoppers.
Malfoy caught his arm near Knockturn. “Ron! Buy you a drink?”
That inexplicable fury ignited. “With you? You know it’s your kind that killed my brother, don’t you? He’s dead, he’s not coming back, and I’m not dishonouring his memory by consorting with the likes of you!”
Draco - Malfoy - went grey, and let go of Ron’s arm. He curled his hands close to him, backing away, grey eyes dismayed.
Bargaining
If Mum’s not crying when I get home, I’ll say I’m sorry.
If I can’t find evidence he’s done something bad recently, I’ll say I’m sorry.
If Harry thinks I should, I’ll say I’m sorry.
He couldn’t find the nerve to fulfill any of them.
Depression
Ron huddled on the sofa for three days, staring at the empty fireplace. It stubbornly refused to flare up, looking as cold and ashy as his insides felt.
Acceptance
On the first anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat, Draco attended the mourning ceremony with Ron. They were hand-in-hand.
Afterwards, they went back to Ron’s new flat. Ron cried a bit, and they got take-away and cuddled. One thing led to another, and halfway through Ron kissed the scarred flesh of Draco’s forearm.
Acceptance.
Title: Five Stages Of Falling In Love
Word count: 300
Characters/pairings: Ron/Draco
Rating: PG-13
Summary: “Irritatingly, Ron’s recovery after the war fit the Healer’s list of prescribed emotions.”
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: The boys belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.
Author’s Notes: This was written for the current prompt at rondracodrabble, recovery. It can be split evenly into three proper drabbles, but it works so much better as a whole that I’m posting it that way.
Irritatingly, Ron’s recovery after the war fit the Healer’s list of prescribed emotions.
Denial
He went to the party that was held three days after Voldemort’s defeat, still blank. He was certain Fred was going to return, laughing at their foolishness, and he wasn’t going to miss it.
Fred didn’t come back, and he ended the night snogging Draco Malfoy in a dark corner.
Anger
The next day he was practically crawling out of his skin. He had to escape the Burrow, and headed for Diagon Alley. He strode through it, anger beating inside him like a drum, barely seeing the cheery shoppers.
Malfoy caught his arm near Knockturn. “Ron! Buy you a drink?”
That inexplicable fury ignited. “With you? You know it’s your kind that killed my brother, don’t you? He’s dead, he’s not coming back, and I’m not dishonouring his memory by consorting with the likes of you!”
Draco - Malfoy - went grey, and let go of Ron’s arm. He curled his hands close to him, backing away, grey eyes dismayed.
Bargaining
If Mum’s not crying when I get home, I’ll say I’m sorry.
If I can’t find evidence he’s done something bad recently, I’ll say I’m sorry.
If Harry thinks I should, I’ll say I’m sorry.
He couldn’t find the nerve to fulfill any of them.
Depression
Ron huddled on the sofa for three days, staring at the empty fireplace. It stubbornly refused to flare up, looking as cold and ashy as his insides felt.
Acceptance
On the first anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat, Draco attended the mourning ceremony with Ron. They were hand-in-hand.
Afterwards, they went back to Ron’s new flat. Ron cried a bit, and they got take-away and cuddled. One thing led to another, and halfway through Ron kissed the scarred flesh of Draco’s forearm.
Acceptance.