"How Close the Divide" part 2
Continued from here
Ron sat in the cushioned chair with his feet propped on an ottoman, half-heartedly thumbing through a month-old Broom Enthusiast. He rolled his wand in his fingers, occasionally grasping it in his palm, seeing if he could feel any of his magic channeling through it. He couldn't. Rationally he tried to manage his souring mood; he didn't want to take out his anxiety and fear on Draco.
"Aren't you supposed to be with a Healer of some sort?" Snape asked as he shuffled into the room, leaning on Xavier for assistance.
"Yes. Abbot's due any minute," Ron said, instantly cross. He had no issues dishing back at Snape. Xavier gave him a frown as he helped Snape get situated on the couch.
"Ah. I should have found that axiomatic given it's not quite ten o'clock on a Saturday and you're dressed and I daresay, clean shaven."
"Look, if you're going to give me grief when I've bloody well not done anything-" Ron spouted off as he heard Draco and their guest's voice in the corridor. "Just let it be, for once," he said, scowling at the former Potions Master. Ron got up from his chair and tossed the magazine on a coffee table with a satisfying slap.
"Hello, Ron," the Healer said warmly, shaking Ron's hand once Draco had guided him into the large sitting room.
"Hi Raven. Thanks for coming out here to do this. Means a lot to be able to do heaps of this healing at home rather than coming into Mungo's on a daily basis."
"I wouldn't trust your care to just anybody; we need you back as soon as possible." Raven smiled, lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "I have no doubt that Malfoy's skills are such that he'll become quite proficient at casting the Renovo to slowly fortify your ambric signature. Another transfusion from your brother isn't a bad idea, either."
"You'd recommend that? Really?" Draco asked, his skepticism apparent. "I spent a fair amount of time firecalling an old family Healer in Bretagne. He was, shall we say, surprised that such a procedure had been done at all."
"I want to learn how to cast the spell, too," Xavier declared, walking over to stand next to Ron. "I'm going to be a Healer when I grow up."
Ron looked down at him, a smile tugging at his lips. "I thought you were going to be an archer."
"You're going to be a what?" Draco's brows furrowed.
"An archer," Xavier said smugly. "Like Legolas." He assumed the stance of a person drawing back a bow.
"Merlin," Draco groaned, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't believe you're still reading that book that Persephone sent."
"I'm rereading it," Xavier retorted. "You can borrow it when I'm done."
"No thank you. I have no interest in reading that Muggle fantasy tripe, with Legsolot and Frogo and Merlin only knows what else-"
"Have your row later!" Ron hissed, embarrassed that they were having an argument in front of an esteemed colleague. He was incredibly uncomfortable that Raven was being exposed to such a display of domestic dischord.
"That's my uncle Severus," Xavier said, pointing at Snape, who still sat on the couch, glowering. "He was brilliant at making potions."
Ron winced, wondering how the former professor would react to such an introduction.
"Pleasure to meet you," Raven said, bowing slightly at the waist. "While I've known your name for some time, I'm glad to meet you in person."
Snape looked less than delighted. "So you say. Xavier, please fetch me some parchment and a dicta-quill. I owe Lupin a reply to some correspondence he sent yesterday."
Xavier bounded off to his task after wheedling a promise from Draco that they wouldn't conduct the healing spell without him.
"Where should we do this?" Ron asked, anxious to get the initial spell cast so that Raven could get on with his day. Most people were intrigued by the Manor, but didn't like to stay for long periods of time. The expansiveness and legacy of the house was rather off-putting for anyone outside of their unconventional family.
"Well, this is a rather intimate spell," the Healer said with neither apology nor embarrassment. "It's not at all sexual, but as you know, Ron, ambric energy is the force that makes us different from Muggles. Even the slightest manipulation to your signature has the potential of modifying your innate nature, your personality- your very sense of self."
"I'd trust Draco with my life," Ron said firmly.
"That's the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say," Snape sneered.
"Abbott, I think we should move on to another room," Ron said, glaring daggers at Snape before turning and gesturing to the corridor. "We'll just go to " his voice trailed off as he slowed his steps.
"I think we should go to the sauna," Draco suggested, slipping his hand into Ron's in a rare public gesture of affection.
"The sauna?" Ron asked, scooting over as Xavier rushed past them to deliver his items to Snape. "That's not a particularly, um, intimate space."
"Sure it is," Draco countered. "You and I have talked about a lot of personal things in there, and I'm pretty sure we've never had a fight while sweating."
"Reckon that's true," Ron agreed. "It's too hot to fight."
"Is there enough space for three of us?" Raven asked.
"There's plenty for all four of us," Xavier said, joining their entourage. "I'll lead the way."
"Your nephew is quite determined," Raven said, humour in his voice.
"He'll do well when he gets to Hogwarts," Draco said, his pride evident.
"Any thoughts as to which House he'll be in?" Raven asked, increasing his stride to keep up with Xavier.
"Gryffindor," "Slytherin," Ron and Draco interjected at the same time.
"No Weasley has ever been in Slytherin that I know of," Ron said, affronted. "There's no way that would happen."
"He could be the first Weasley who's that fortunate," Draco snapped. "I'm raising him too, you know. Doubtless some of my influence is rubbing off on him."
"Gentlemen, will I need a towel? Or is this a true sauna, and we're all to be in the altogether?" Raven's calm baritone cut through the increasing tension between Ron and Draco, reminding Ron that he should keep his temper under control. The elder Healer was known for his pacifying presence at St. Mungo's, and Ron was certain that he hadn't asked the former question thinking it would cause a row.
"We tend to sauna nude, but you're welcome to wear as many clothes as you like," Draco said a bit stiffly. He still held Ron's hand, but now his grip was painful. "I do prefer to get the temperature to sweltering, however."
Ron and Draco were silent the rest of the walk to the pool. Slightly ahead of them, Xavier kept up a running monologue about Elves and bowmanship. Once they arrived, Draco laid a hand on the carved marble door to unward it. They filed in, Xavier heading straight for the shower area where the sauna had been built in. Ron went off in the opposite direction.
"Where are you going?" Draco asked sharply.
"To get a drink," Ron muttered.
"It's not even ten-thirty."
Draco was bristling, but Ron was still cheesed off and didn't give a skrewt's bum what Draco thought.
"I don't care what time it is. I need to relax," Ron said through gritted teeth. He strode over to the mahogany bar set in an alcove near one of the tall mullioned windows and poured himself a half glass of Laphroiag. After taking two healthy swallows, he added a splash more before taking it and joining the trio in the showers. Like every other room in the Manor, it was opulent in the extreme. Each vast marble tile had been hand-carved with the Malfoy crest; the shower heads - serpentine, of course - gleamed in brilliant silver. Even the holes of the drains were shaped in an M, with some Malfoysian motto in Latin etched into the circumference. Still, it was a soothing room and not stark, the white glowing softly rather than having a harsh, sterile sheen.
"How would you describe your ability at healing spells?" Raven was asking Draco as Ron entered the chamber.
"Above average. They improved dramatically during the War," Draco replied as he methodically shed his clothes.
Ron admired his partner's pale skin and the new scarlet lion currently sleeping on his shoulder blade. He downed the rest of his drink, relishing the warm burn of the alcohol. Between the scotch and being reminded of Draco's affections, he felt much more at ease than he had moments before.
"I spent quite a while looking at your charts," Raven said, taking off his robes and clothing until he stood in just long blue leggings. "I'm still not entirely sure what all happened, and in what combination. I do believe that the Ambrus Renovo, cast first by me but then by the one with whom you've shared the most recent emotional energy, should reinforce your existing base level of ambric energy. Over some time, it will be built up to normal levels."
"What if he gets too much?" Xavier asked, standing unselfconsciously starkers, an emerald coloured towel draped around his neck.
"I'll check up on him regularly, not to worry," Raven reassured him. "Well. Shall we go in? I think this will be an excellent environment," he said approvingly to Draco. "Heat is almost always an amplifier for spellwork."
Xavier had not inherited his comfortable immodesty from Ron. Despite that, with the low thrum of the Laphroaig in his system and logically reasoning that while Abbott was a coworker, he was also a Healer, Ron quickly got undressed. Draco had indeed set the heating charm to a high level and Ron broke out into a sweat the instant he stepped into the sauna. Xavier went up to the higher of the two wooden benches. He laid out his towel and stretched out on his back with a contented sigh. Raven conjured a hair tie and pulled his already dripping hair back into a ponytail.
"All right. Ron, why don't you lie down here," Raven suggested, pointing to the bench the furthest distance from the rock crèche.
"Needs steam," Xavier said, the hint of a whine threading his voice.
"After the spell," Draco chided as Ron spread out his towel and lay down.
Raven wiped his hand over his face and shook it, droplets of sweat hissing as they landed on the nearby stones. "You'll need your wand," he said to Draco.
"Of course."
Ron could tell Draco was silently berating himself in his head as he cracked open the door and accio'ed it. Wand in hand, he stood next to Raven. The Healer was far thinner than Ron had imagined, and he had rather lush, white hair across his chest.
"Focus on what you think is Ron's deepest strength, where his power is the most vibrant," Raven said, his voice low and melodic. "I'll be channeling into the signature with a combination of his actual ambric topology in mind as well as my own intuition, but your fortifying of the spell will ideally come from a place of the heart."
Draco gazed down at Ron, who now felt naked and exposed in ways far beyond plain nudity. It wasn't as though he thought Draco was judging him, or finding him terrifically flawed, but the double dose of Raven's lilac eyes boring intensely and Draco's unblinking stare were enough for Ron to begin to tense up.
"Relax, Ron," Raven said, his tone rich and soothing, flowing over him like warm oil. "You may feel some discomfort, but it will pass. Simply lower any guards to your innermost energy."
Ron allowed his eyes to drift closed, imagining that he was alone on the beach he'd gone to on holiday with Draco a few years before. As his breathing slowed, a distant part of his mind recognised the sound of Xavier shifting around. Feelings of security drifted through him; diaphanous adoration settled tranquilly in his chest and he relaxed even more, his legs rolling slightly out from his hip sockets.
The incantation wasn't one that Ron had heard before, but given how rare his condition was, he wasn't surprised. The words were repeated, cyclical and chant-like. It was subtle, but Ron sensed his own vigour sparking deep within himself, echoed as the blood pulsed resolutely in his ears. A dull ache creeped into his torso as though his ribs and joints were sore, then other throbbing pain radiated gently in his pelvis. Subtle distress wound tendrils around his spine, massaging his very core. Ron whimpered despite his desire to keep quiet.
"Are you okay?" Xavier sounded panicked.
"Quiet!" Draco said tersely as Raven's spell came to a close. There were a few moments of hushed, heavy breathing. "You shouldn't talk during complicated spells. I thought you knew that."
Ron opened his eyes as the dis-ease ebbed away.
"He was moaning," Xavier said, rubbing stubbornly at his face with a damp towel. "It scared me. Healers are supposed to make people better, not worse."
"Sometimes the work we do makes a patient hurt for a while before he or she feels improved," Raven explained, choosing a corner in which to drape his ivory towel and sit down. "If you're serious about wanting to be a Healer, you'll have to learn to bear the sounds of someone suffering. It doesn't come easily." A melancholy smile settled on his lips as he mopped at the sheen of drops on his forehead. "How do you feel?" he asked, turning to Ron.
"Bit like I've had Bludgers inside of me, trying to escape," he replied, grimacing as he got up onto his elbows. "But it's already fading."
"Would it be all right if I do his auralic?" Draco asked Raven, his wand poised above Ron's abdomen. "I think it'd be good for me to cast it while you're here. You can tell me what to look for."
"Fine. Excellent suggestion."
Draco focussed his attentions to his task, but not before giving Ron a quick, secretive smile. It was strange for Draco to be giving Ron a full-magic scan; Ron couldn't help but think of the first auralic he'd cast on Draco when their lives had first become re-intertwined after the War. Draco struggled somewhat with evenness in his channeling. Ron could barely sense it, but Xavier pointed out how lumpy the aura looked as Draco illuminated the feeble manifestation of Ron's magic.
"I'll get better," Draco said tightly, his face taut with concentration.
Raven gave him some suggestions that any new student Healer would be told, and soon the senior Healer pronounced Draco a natural. Satisfied, Draco put down his wand by the door. He picked up a ladle and doused the stones with water, which sizzled and hissed as damp heat filled the room. He and Raven then sat and discussed the preferred regimen that Raven wanted Draco to enact. Ron and Xavier, meanwhile, remained on their respective wooden benches, lying on their backs and luxuriating in their steamy roasting. After Raven and Draco's conversation came to a lull, the Healer shook his head like a wet dog, droplets of sweat flying around the small room. His underleggings were soaked through at the waist and groin, the dark blue patches spreading down his inner thighs.
"I can see why you enjoy this, but I'd need to work up to spending any serious time in a sauna," he said, using his towel to wipe down his face and upper back. "I do appreciate your hospitality and think that this is an excellent location to cast the Renovos, but I'm roasting!" He smiled as he stood up, dabbing at the moisture clinging to his shaggy eyebrows.
"It may be an acquired taste," Draco acknowledged, shaking Raven's hand but not getting up from the bench. "Thank you for coming over to the Manor as well as for your confidence in my ability to successfully keep Ron on his road to healing."
Ron raised up onto his elbows. "Yeah, Raven, this was really good of you. I'll explain some of the less obvious readings to him as the days go on. I'll have a detailed report for you when you come back."
"I approve of that." Raven used the back of his wrist to rub sweat out of his eyes. "But now I really must be going. I'll look forward to seeing how much of your signature has been restored when I give you a thorough going-over in a week's time."
"I'll learn how to cast an auralic before you visit again," Xavier said, his voice less animated than usual due to the heat.
"That's pretty advanced magic and tricky to do without a wand," Raven said, grasping the door handle. "I wouldn't mind watching you do some target practise, though, if you're really working on being an archer."
Xavier perked up at that and sat up partway, resting on his hands. He'd twisted his green towel around his head like a turban. "Okay!" he beamed.
"Do feel free to take a shower before you leave," Draco offered. "Every aspect of the water can be adjusted-heat, force, type of stream, even the colour "
"A Scourgify will suit me just fine," Raven said as he opened the door. "Perhaps next week."
"Would you like for me to walk you out?" Ron asked, trying belatedly to be a good host.
"No, no-I'll just get on my way. If I get lost I'll call for Mr. Snape."
"It takes him a while to walk," Xavier said matter-of-factly. "And his arms and legs jerk around a lot. But he'd be able to tell you where the front door is, no worries."
Draco's expression was so full of pride Ron felt a sharp bite of nausea jab in his stomach. It didn't make sense, but Ron occasionally had moments when he thought Draco's parenting seemed too effusive to the point of being false. In his truest heart he knew Draco wasn't making it up, the affection and seriousness with which he took his responsibility of being a co-parent. That rational inner voice was smothered from time to time, however, and in those moments he wanted to remind Draco in no uncertain terms that his nephew was Xavier Weasley, not Xavier Malfoy.
"Thank you, Xavier. Until next week, then."
The door shut securely behind him, leaving Ron, Draco and Xavier in steamy seclusion. Ron's illogical drive to get at Draco gnawed malignantly at him as the minutes went by until he couldn't hold it in.
"So Xave, are you really on your second read-through of Lord of the Rings?"
"Mmm hmmm. I'm learning some Elvish. How to say it, and write it, too," he said, his enthusiasm reviving at the topic. "I'm practising on that Emmalexis plant from Uncle Neville. It really seems to like being talked to."
Draco made a low growling sound.
"What?" Ron asked innocently. "Xave's not doing any harm. Percy was a bookworm-surely you can't be surprised that he's like him."
"Stop being such a manipulative arse," Draco said threateningly. "Xavier? You've been in here long enough. Go ahead and get a shower and see what your Uncle Snape is really up to, okay? We'll be out in just a few minutes."
"But Draco," Xavier complained, "I don't wanna go."
"Do it anyway."
Scowling, Xavier climbed down to the floor, tore the towel turban from his head and tied it around his thin waist in a huff. "What's wrong with that book, anyway? Like Ron said, my dad read a lot. I remember him having heaps of books around. He would read to me, before I knew how, I mean."
"We'll talk about it later," Draco said, rearranging his towel so he could sit against the slatted wall. "This isn't about you, not really."
"Don't fight. I don't like it." Xavier paused, wiping at a tear of sweat on his neck.
"We're not," Ron reassured him. "Sometimes we just need to talk alone." The truth was, he'd been petty and he knew it. The need to prove a point had already faded and in its place Ron had a leaden frothing of regret.
"Fine." Seemingly okay, Xavier left the sauna.
"What is your problem?" Draco asked peevishly, placing his hands over his head to hold on to one of the wooden beams.
"What's yours?" Ron retaliated, feeling backed into a corner even though he'd been the one to start the exchange. "It's just a book."
"He's becoming obsessed, Ron. He's re-reading it, and it's not exactly short. He says he wants to be Legsolot-"
"Legolas."
"Whatever. He's now teaching himself this language, a fictional language, mind you, and talking to a bloody plant in it?! It's pathological."
"He's enthusiastic! So what? He's bloody brilliant, from what I've seen over the years. What's wrong with being interested in some fantasy world?" Ron said, jumping to his nephew's defense. When his short tirade stopped, he realized that he honestly now had no idea what they were really arguing about anymore.
"It's more than enthusiasm, and you're all like that!" Draco's face, already pink from the heat of the sauna, was becoming splotchy and red. That only occurred when he was exceedingly angry or upset.
"All like what? What in Hades are you on about?" Ron's hackles went back up. Each time he thought Draco had finally, truly accepted him, he'd come out with something like this from left field and it cheesed Ron off, planting small seeds of doubt of their long-term compatibility, despite being handfasted.
"You're ALL obsessed," Draco said ponderously as though Ron were thick for having to ask. "Your mum with grandchildren. George and the products at his shop. Your dad and his inane collection of Muggle rubbish. Charlie and dragons. Even Percy, back at Hogwarts, obsessed with being the perfect prefect. I do hope that by being around I'll help temper Xavier, give him a chance at being slightly more normal. That's hardly a crime. Surely even you can see that everyone in your family's gone mad about one thing or another."
Ron was incensed at Draco's implications, and for a few seconds he simply gaped, looking at him again through the lens of his youth, seeing nothing but haughty disdain and smug superiority. Ron's initial disbelief at how Draco apparently continued to judge his entire family morphed into hostility. His mind went barreling down two paths, too busy to censor the barbs that fired from his mouth. "That's bloody rich, coming from you, mister I Know About Every Fucking Knut That Comes In Or Out Of The Entire Fucking Malfoy Estate. And that whole thing about wizarding bloodlines and your own genealogy, even though you're the last Malfoy? No wonder you're so clingy with Xavier. Your real hope is that he'll turn out just like you, that he'll be your legacy."
Ron's verbal attack seemed to crash explosively into its target. Draco's mouth snapped shut, his lips smashed together into a thin, bitter line. His hands came down from the wall and he crossed them over his chest, pulling his feet up as well.
"And me, Draco. You didn't talk about me, what my obsession is, but I can guess. You still think I'm not over Harry."
A sharp pain in his palm made Ron take time to catch his breath. It was only then that he realised he'd clenched his hands so tightly his nails were branding half-moons into the skin. As he forced himself to unfurl his fists, remorse began to batter at him. He hadn't really meant to say half of the antagonistic, ugly things that had spewed out, especially not the last few sentences. Draco sat silently, glaring at him with a fierce contempt that turned Ron's insides to ice. He'd really, really fucked up. Seconds went by, each one pummeling panic as Ron wildly tried to remember exactly what he'd said.
"Living with you isn't always exactly a picnic, you know," Draco said, his baritone lower than usual and menacing, "but I've never stooped that low. I'm keenly aware of Xavier's lineage, but thanks for rubbing it in, especially while sitting in the luxury of my family's legacy. You can shove your opinion of Malfoys up your ungrateful, spotted arse."
Unlike Ron, Draco got horrifyingly calm when he was angry, though right now his loathing radiated off of him and his voice cut as sharply as a Sectumsempra. He stood up, jerked his towel off of the bench and tied around his waist with trembling, white knuckled fingers. Blond fringe was plastered down his temples, but his focus was solely on Ron, who now wished he could make a vast hole into which he and his misery could crawl and never come back out.
"I'm not going to deign to discuss you and Potter. I thought I'd made it perfectly clear that I believed your vows during our handfasting. Whatever lingering issues you may have with him are your business. But don't you ever -EVER -insinuate that I have some dark, psychotic plan to take YOUR nephew away from you. Merlin, Ron-sometimes I want to hex you and your self-absorbed bollocks back to the dark ages. I'm fucking BOUND to you, though right now when you're bring a total prick, I really wonder why."
Draco left the sauna and slammed the door into place. His words stung; Ron felt physically bruised in the aftermath. He found it hard to breathe for a time, the heat of the room settling heavily in his lungs. It didn't help that there was now a self-berating chant in his head, beating him with the subtlety of a giant swinging a log. Pissed off Draco or no, he had to get out, inhale some cooler air. On wobbly legs, he shuffled into the expansive bathroom and saw he was alone.
"You're really a piece of fucking work," he muttered to himself, rummaging through his clothes to find his wand. " Accio scotch." A dull ache reverberated in his arm and he swore at himself for forgetting, yet again, that his current magical abilities were barely above that of a Squib. Fuming, he pulled on his boxers and tromped over to the bar, retrieving the Laphroaig. Back in the serene, white suite, he got a new towel and dropped it down onto the cool marble. The tepid air was soothing, cleaning out his head as he took a couple of slugs from the bottle. He lay down on his back, not bothering to cover himself, feeling the hairs on his arms stiffen slightly at the change in temperature. Why the hell did he let things so flagrantly stupid go pouring out of his mouth? He sat up partway to take another few swallows, spluttering a bit as the burn ratcheted down his throat. An image of Draco's certain disapproval came to him and he decided to at least mimic an adult for once in his life; he put the bottle up on a nearby shelf. Getting shit-faced would only make things worse, and he really didn't want that; he was in far too much trouble as it was.
When the relative chill got too much, he got up, took a hot shower and dressed. Glancing over at the jumble of towels, he looked for a basket to put them in, but of course there wasn't one; house-elves would have taken care of that in the past. Ron let out a dejected sigh that sounded pathetic even to his own ears before picking up the detritus from their sauna and heading off to the laundry. He'd check in on Xavier and maybe stop by Draco's in-house bakery if he was working in there, though he knew better than to go in and bother him. Ron had no doubt that Draco wouldn't want to speak to him for some time, and he mentally readied himself for a few days of getting the cold shoulder, which he deserved. An apology would be in order, and to say that he was pretty poor at those was a gross understatement. Draco being as responsible as he was, Ron was sure he'd cast the Renovo each day. That might be the most communication they'd have beyond cursory acknowledgements of each other if Ron didn't make his amends. Xavier would pick up on the tension between them for sure, and Ron despised lying in bed with Draco's back to him. It was far worse than sleeping alone, being shut out like that.
As he turned down the corridor and made his way to the lift that went to the lower levels of the Manor, he began to mull over what he could say to repair this latest gash he'd inflicted on their already strained relationship. He'd never been with anyone for a long period of time; maybe he wasn't meant for a long-term thing with anybody. Standing inside the lift, gazing at his despondent face through the mirrored sheen of Malfoysian crests, he realised that was rubbish. He'd made a commitment to Draco, and he'd meant it. All the same, he wouldn't mind spending a bit more time back over at their other house, the smaller one without the omnipresent pall of Malfoy everywhere he looked. Without his magic, though Ron was pants at cooking, he couldn't tell a rose from a pansy -well, maybe he'd recognise just those two -and he'd never been able to sweet talk.
"You can always grovel," he said glumly to his reflection. There was a melodious peal as the door opened to let him out. Just then, Ron's inner voice chimed in.
"Don't forget sex."
* * * * *
continue on to end
Ron sat in the cushioned chair with his feet propped on an ottoman, half-heartedly thumbing through a month-old Broom Enthusiast. He rolled his wand in his fingers, occasionally grasping it in his palm, seeing if he could feel any of his magic channeling through it. He couldn't. Rationally he tried to manage his souring mood; he didn't want to take out his anxiety and fear on Draco.
"Aren't you supposed to be with a Healer of some sort?" Snape asked as he shuffled into the room, leaning on Xavier for assistance.
"Yes. Abbot's due any minute," Ron said, instantly cross. He had no issues dishing back at Snape. Xavier gave him a frown as he helped Snape get situated on the couch.
"Ah. I should have found that axiomatic given it's not quite ten o'clock on a Saturday and you're dressed and I daresay, clean shaven."
"Look, if you're going to give me grief when I've bloody well not done anything-" Ron spouted off as he heard Draco and their guest's voice in the corridor. "Just let it be, for once," he said, scowling at the former Potions Master. Ron got up from his chair and tossed the magazine on a coffee table with a satisfying slap.
"Hello, Ron," the Healer said warmly, shaking Ron's hand once Draco had guided him into the large sitting room.
"Hi Raven. Thanks for coming out here to do this. Means a lot to be able to do heaps of this healing at home rather than coming into Mungo's on a daily basis."
"I wouldn't trust your care to just anybody; we need you back as soon as possible." Raven smiled, lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "I have no doubt that Malfoy's skills are such that he'll become quite proficient at casting the Renovo to slowly fortify your ambric signature. Another transfusion from your brother isn't a bad idea, either."
"You'd recommend that? Really?" Draco asked, his skepticism apparent. "I spent a fair amount of time firecalling an old family Healer in Bretagne. He was, shall we say, surprised that such a procedure had been done at all."
"I want to learn how to cast the spell, too," Xavier declared, walking over to stand next to Ron. "I'm going to be a Healer when I grow up."
Ron looked down at him, a smile tugging at his lips. "I thought you were going to be an archer."
"You're going to be a what?" Draco's brows furrowed.
"An archer," Xavier said smugly. "Like Legolas." He assumed the stance of a person drawing back a bow.
"Merlin," Draco groaned, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't believe you're still reading that book that Persephone sent."
"I'm rereading it," Xavier retorted. "You can borrow it when I'm done."
"No thank you. I have no interest in reading that Muggle fantasy tripe, with Legsolot and Frogo and Merlin only knows what else-"
"Have your row later!" Ron hissed, embarrassed that they were having an argument in front of an esteemed colleague. He was incredibly uncomfortable that Raven was being exposed to such a display of domestic dischord.
"That's my uncle Severus," Xavier said, pointing at Snape, who still sat on the couch, glowering. "He was brilliant at making potions."
Ron winced, wondering how the former professor would react to such an introduction.
"Pleasure to meet you," Raven said, bowing slightly at the waist. "While I've known your name for some time, I'm glad to meet you in person."
Snape looked less than delighted. "So you say. Xavier, please fetch me some parchment and a dicta-quill. I owe Lupin a reply to some correspondence he sent yesterday."
Xavier bounded off to his task after wheedling a promise from Draco that they wouldn't conduct the healing spell without him.
"Where should we do this?" Ron asked, anxious to get the initial spell cast so that Raven could get on with his day. Most people were intrigued by the Manor, but didn't like to stay for long periods of time. The expansiveness and legacy of the house was rather off-putting for anyone outside of their unconventional family.
"Well, this is a rather intimate spell," the Healer said with neither apology nor embarrassment. "It's not at all sexual, but as you know, Ron, ambric energy is the force that makes us different from Muggles. Even the slightest manipulation to your signature has the potential of modifying your innate nature, your personality- your very sense of self."
"I'd trust Draco with my life," Ron said firmly.
"That's the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say," Snape sneered.
"Abbott, I think we should move on to another room," Ron said, glaring daggers at Snape before turning and gesturing to the corridor. "We'll just go to " his voice trailed off as he slowed his steps.
"I think we should go to the sauna," Draco suggested, slipping his hand into Ron's in a rare public gesture of affection.
"The sauna?" Ron asked, scooting over as Xavier rushed past them to deliver his items to Snape. "That's not a particularly, um, intimate space."
"Sure it is," Draco countered. "You and I have talked about a lot of personal things in there, and I'm pretty sure we've never had a fight while sweating."
"Reckon that's true," Ron agreed. "It's too hot to fight."
"Is there enough space for three of us?" Raven asked.
"There's plenty for all four of us," Xavier said, joining their entourage. "I'll lead the way."
"Your nephew is quite determined," Raven said, humour in his voice.
"He'll do well when he gets to Hogwarts," Draco said, his pride evident.
"Any thoughts as to which House he'll be in?" Raven asked, increasing his stride to keep up with Xavier.
"Gryffindor," "Slytherin," Ron and Draco interjected at the same time.
"No Weasley has ever been in Slytherin that I know of," Ron said, affronted. "There's no way that would happen."
"He could be the first Weasley who's that fortunate," Draco snapped. "I'm raising him too, you know. Doubtless some of my influence is rubbing off on him."
"Gentlemen, will I need a towel? Or is this a true sauna, and we're all to be in the altogether?" Raven's calm baritone cut through the increasing tension between Ron and Draco, reminding Ron that he should keep his temper under control. The elder Healer was known for his pacifying presence at St. Mungo's, and Ron was certain that he hadn't asked the former question thinking it would cause a row.
"We tend to sauna nude, but you're welcome to wear as many clothes as you like," Draco said a bit stiffly. He still held Ron's hand, but now his grip was painful. "I do prefer to get the temperature to sweltering, however."
Ron and Draco were silent the rest of the walk to the pool. Slightly ahead of them, Xavier kept up a running monologue about Elves and bowmanship. Once they arrived, Draco laid a hand on the carved marble door to unward it. They filed in, Xavier heading straight for the shower area where the sauna had been built in. Ron went off in the opposite direction.
"Where are you going?" Draco asked sharply.
"To get a drink," Ron muttered.
"It's not even ten-thirty."
Draco was bristling, but Ron was still cheesed off and didn't give a skrewt's bum what Draco thought.
"I don't care what time it is. I need to relax," Ron said through gritted teeth. He strode over to the mahogany bar set in an alcove near one of the tall mullioned windows and poured himself a half glass of Laphroiag. After taking two healthy swallows, he added a splash more before taking it and joining the trio in the showers. Like every other room in the Manor, it was opulent in the extreme. Each vast marble tile had been hand-carved with the Malfoy crest; the shower heads - serpentine, of course - gleamed in brilliant silver. Even the holes of the drains were shaped in an M, with some Malfoysian motto in Latin etched into the circumference. Still, it was a soothing room and not stark, the white glowing softly rather than having a harsh, sterile sheen.
"How would you describe your ability at healing spells?" Raven was asking Draco as Ron entered the chamber.
"Above average. They improved dramatically during the War," Draco replied as he methodically shed his clothes.
Ron admired his partner's pale skin and the new scarlet lion currently sleeping on his shoulder blade. He downed the rest of his drink, relishing the warm burn of the alcohol. Between the scotch and being reminded of Draco's affections, he felt much more at ease than he had moments before.
"I spent quite a while looking at your charts," Raven said, taking off his robes and clothing until he stood in just long blue leggings. "I'm still not entirely sure what all happened, and in what combination. I do believe that the Ambrus Renovo, cast first by me but then by the one with whom you've shared the most recent emotional energy, should reinforce your existing base level of ambric energy. Over some time, it will be built up to normal levels."
"What if he gets too much?" Xavier asked, standing unselfconsciously starkers, an emerald coloured towel draped around his neck.
"I'll check up on him regularly, not to worry," Raven reassured him. "Well. Shall we go in? I think this will be an excellent environment," he said approvingly to Draco. "Heat is almost always an amplifier for spellwork."
Xavier had not inherited his comfortable immodesty from Ron. Despite that, with the low thrum of the Laphroaig in his system and logically reasoning that while Abbott was a coworker, he was also a Healer, Ron quickly got undressed. Draco had indeed set the heating charm to a high level and Ron broke out into a sweat the instant he stepped into the sauna. Xavier went up to the higher of the two wooden benches. He laid out his towel and stretched out on his back with a contented sigh. Raven conjured a hair tie and pulled his already dripping hair back into a ponytail.
"All right. Ron, why don't you lie down here," Raven suggested, pointing to the bench the furthest distance from the rock crèche.
"Needs steam," Xavier said, the hint of a whine threading his voice.
"After the spell," Draco chided as Ron spread out his towel and lay down.
Raven wiped his hand over his face and shook it, droplets of sweat hissing as they landed on the nearby stones. "You'll need your wand," he said to Draco.
"Of course."
Ron could tell Draco was silently berating himself in his head as he cracked open the door and accio'ed it. Wand in hand, he stood next to Raven. The Healer was far thinner than Ron had imagined, and he had rather lush, white hair across his chest.
"Focus on what you think is Ron's deepest strength, where his power is the most vibrant," Raven said, his voice low and melodic. "I'll be channeling into the signature with a combination of his actual ambric topology in mind as well as my own intuition, but your fortifying of the spell will ideally come from a place of the heart."
Draco gazed down at Ron, who now felt naked and exposed in ways far beyond plain nudity. It wasn't as though he thought Draco was judging him, or finding him terrifically flawed, but the double dose of Raven's lilac eyes boring intensely and Draco's unblinking stare were enough for Ron to begin to tense up.
"Relax, Ron," Raven said, his tone rich and soothing, flowing over him like warm oil. "You may feel some discomfort, but it will pass. Simply lower any guards to your innermost energy."
Ron allowed his eyes to drift closed, imagining that he was alone on the beach he'd gone to on holiday with Draco a few years before. As his breathing slowed, a distant part of his mind recognised the sound of Xavier shifting around. Feelings of security drifted through him; diaphanous adoration settled tranquilly in his chest and he relaxed even more, his legs rolling slightly out from his hip sockets.
The incantation wasn't one that Ron had heard before, but given how rare his condition was, he wasn't surprised. The words were repeated, cyclical and chant-like. It was subtle, but Ron sensed his own vigour sparking deep within himself, echoed as the blood pulsed resolutely in his ears. A dull ache creeped into his torso as though his ribs and joints were sore, then other throbbing pain radiated gently in his pelvis. Subtle distress wound tendrils around his spine, massaging his very core. Ron whimpered despite his desire to keep quiet.
"Are you okay?" Xavier sounded panicked.
"Quiet!" Draco said tersely as Raven's spell came to a close. There were a few moments of hushed, heavy breathing. "You shouldn't talk during complicated spells. I thought you knew that."
Ron opened his eyes as the dis-ease ebbed away.
"He was moaning," Xavier said, rubbing stubbornly at his face with a damp towel. "It scared me. Healers are supposed to make people better, not worse."
"Sometimes the work we do makes a patient hurt for a while before he or she feels improved," Raven explained, choosing a corner in which to drape his ivory towel and sit down. "If you're serious about wanting to be a Healer, you'll have to learn to bear the sounds of someone suffering. It doesn't come easily." A melancholy smile settled on his lips as he mopped at the sheen of drops on his forehead. "How do you feel?" he asked, turning to Ron.
"Bit like I've had Bludgers inside of me, trying to escape," he replied, grimacing as he got up onto his elbows. "But it's already fading."
"Would it be all right if I do his auralic?" Draco asked Raven, his wand poised above Ron's abdomen. "I think it'd be good for me to cast it while you're here. You can tell me what to look for."
"Fine. Excellent suggestion."
Draco focussed his attentions to his task, but not before giving Ron a quick, secretive smile. It was strange for Draco to be giving Ron a full-magic scan; Ron couldn't help but think of the first auralic he'd cast on Draco when their lives had first become re-intertwined after the War. Draco struggled somewhat with evenness in his channeling. Ron could barely sense it, but Xavier pointed out how lumpy the aura looked as Draco illuminated the feeble manifestation of Ron's magic.
"I'll get better," Draco said tightly, his face taut with concentration.
Raven gave him some suggestions that any new student Healer would be told, and soon the senior Healer pronounced Draco a natural. Satisfied, Draco put down his wand by the door. He picked up a ladle and doused the stones with water, which sizzled and hissed as damp heat filled the room. He and Raven then sat and discussed the preferred regimen that Raven wanted Draco to enact. Ron and Xavier, meanwhile, remained on their respective wooden benches, lying on their backs and luxuriating in their steamy roasting. After Raven and Draco's conversation came to a lull, the Healer shook his head like a wet dog, droplets of sweat flying around the small room. His underleggings were soaked through at the waist and groin, the dark blue patches spreading down his inner thighs.
"I can see why you enjoy this, but I'd need to work up to spending any serious time in a sauna," he said, using his towel to wipe down his face and upper back. "I do appreciate your hospitality and think that this is an excellent location to cast the Renovos, but I'm roasting!" He smiled as he stood up, dabbing at the moisture clinging to his shaggy eyebrows.
"It may be an acquired taste," Draco acknowledged, shaking Raven's hand but not getting up from the bench. "Thank you for coming over to the Manor as well as for your confidence in my ability to successfully keep Ron on his road to healing."
Ron raised up onto his elbows. "Yeah, Raven, this was really good of you. I'll explain some of the less obvious readings to him as the days go on. I'll have a detailed report for you when you come back."
"I approve of that." Raven used the back of his wrist to rub sweat out of his eyes. "But now I really must be going. I'll look forward to seeing how much of your signature has been restored when I give you a thorough going-over in a week's time."
"I'll learn how to cast an auralic before you visit again," Xavier said, his voice less animated than usual due to the heat.
"That's pretty advanced magic and tricky to do without a wand," Raven said, grasping the door handle. "I wouldn't mind watching you do some target practise, though, if you're really working on being an archer."
Xavier perked up at that and sat up partway, resting on his hands. He'd twisted his green towel around his head like a turban. "Okay!" he beamed.
"Do feel free to take a shower before you leave," Draco offered. "Every aspect of the water can be adjusted-heat, force, type of stream, even the colour "
"A Scourgify will suit me just fine," Raven said as he opened the door. "Perhaps next week."
"Would you like for me to walk you out?" Ron asked, trying belatedly to be a good host.
"No, no-I'll just get on my way. If I get lost I'll call for Mr. Snape."
"It takes him a while to walk," Xavier said matter-of-factly. "And his arms and legs jerk around a lot. But he'd be able to tell you where the front door is, no worries."
Draco's expression was so full of pride Ron felt a sharp bite of nausea jab in his stomach. It didn't make sense, but Ron occasionally had moments when he thought Draco's parenting seemed too effusive to the point of being false. In his truest heart he knew Draco wasn't making it up, the affection and seriousness with which he took his responsibility of being a co-parent. That rational inner voice was smothered from time to time, however, and in those moments he wanted to remind Draco in no uncertain terms that his nephew was Xavier Weasley, not Xavier Malfoy.
"Thank you, Xavier. Until next week, then."
The door shut securely behind him, leaving Ron, Draco and Xavier in steamy seclusion. Ron's illogical drive to get at Draco gnawed malignantly at him as the minutes went by until he couldn't hold it in.
"So Xave, are you really on your second read-through of Lord of the Rings?"
"Mmm hmmm. I'm learning some Elvish. How to say it, and write it, too," he said, his enthusiasm reviving at the topic. "I'm practising on that Emmalexis plant from Uncle Neville. It really seems to like being talked to."
Draco made a low growling sound.
"What?" Ron asked innocently. "Xave's not doing any harm. Percy was a bookworm-surely you can't be surprised that he's like him."
"Stop being such a manipulative arse," Draco said threateningly. "Xavier? You've been in here long enough. Go ahead and get a shower and see what your Uncle Snape is really up to, okay? We'll be out in just a few minutes."
"But Draco," Xavier complained, "I don't wanna go."
"Do it anyway."
Scowling, Xavier climbed down to the floor, tore the towel turban from his head and tied it around his thin waist in a huff. "What's wrong with that book, anyway? Like Ron said, my dad read a lot. I remember him having heaps of books around. He would read to me, before I knew how, I mean."
"We'll talk about it later," Draco said, rearranging his towel so he could sit against the slatted wall. "This isn't about you, not really."
"Don't fight. I don't like it." Xavier paused, wiping at a tear of sweat on his neck.
"We're not," Ron reassured him. "Sometimes we just need to talk alone." The truth was, he'd been petty and he knew it. The need to prove a point had already faded and in its place Ron had a leaden frothing of regret.
"Fine." Seemingly okay, Xavier left the sauna.
"What is your problem?" Draco asked peevishly, placing his hands over his head to hold on to one of the wooden beams.
"What's yours?" Ron retaliated, feeling backed into a corner even though he'd been the one to start the exchange. "It's just a book."
"He's becoming obsessed, Ron. He's re-reading it, and it's not exactly short. He says he wants to be Legsolot-"
"Legolas."
"Whatever. He's now teaching himself this language, a fictional language, mind you, and talking to a bloody plant in it?! It's pathological."
"He's enthusiastic! So what? He's bloody brilliant, from what I've seen over the years. What's wrong with being interested in some fantasy world?" Ron said, jumping to his nephew's defense. When his short tirade stopped, he realized that he honestly now had no idea what they were really arguing about anymore.
"It's more than enthusiasm, and you're all like that!" Draco's face, already pink from the heat of the sauna, was becoming splotchy and red. That only occurred when he was exceedingly angry or upset.
"All like what? What in Hades are you on about?" Ron's hackles went back up. Each time he thought Draco had finally, truly accepted him, he'd come out with something like this from left field and it cheesed Ron off, planting small seeds of doubt of their long-term compatibility, despite being handfasted.
"You're ALL obsessed," Draco said ponderously as though Ron were thick for having to ask. "Your mum with grandchildren. George and the products at his shop. Your dad and his inane collection of Muggle rubbish. Charlie and dragons. Even Percy, back at Hogwarts, obsessed with being the perfect prefect. I do hope that by being around I'll help temper Xavier, give him a chance at being slightly more normal. That's hardly a crime. Surely even you can see that everyone in your family's gone mad about one thing or another."
Ron was incensed at Draco's implications, and for a few seconds he simply gaped, looking at him again through the lens of his youth, seeing nothing but haughty disdain and smug superiority. Ron's initial disbelief at how Draco apparently continued to judge his entire family morphed into hostility. His mind went barreling down two paths, too busy to censor the barbs that fired from his mouth. "That's bloody rich, coming from you, mister I Know About Every Fucking Knut That Comes In Or Out Of The Entire Fucking Malfoy Estate. And that whole thing about wizarding bloodlines and your own genealogy, even though you're the last Malfoy? No wonder you're so clingy with Xavier. Your real hope is that he'll turn out just like you, that he'll be your legacy."
Ron's verbal attack seemed to crash explosively into its target. Draco's mouth snapped shut, his lips smashed together into a thin, bitter line. His hands came down from the wall and he crossed them over his chest, pulling his feet up as well.
"And me, Draco. You didn't talk about me, what my obsession is, but I can guess. You still think I'm not over Harry."
A sharp pain in his palm made Ron take time to catch his breath. It was only then that he realised he'd clenched his hands so tightly his nails were branding half-moons into the skin. As he forced himself to unfurl his fists, remorse began to batter at him. He hadn't really meant to say half of the antagonistic, ugly things that had spewed out, especially not the last few sentences. Draco sat silently, glaring at him with a fierce contempt that turned Ron's insides to ice. He'd really, really fucked up. Seconds went by, each one pummeling panic as Ron wildly tried to remember exactly what he'd said.
"Living with you isn't always exactly a picnic, you know," Draco said, his baritone lower than usual and menacing, "but I've never stooped that low. I'm keenly aware of Xavier's lineage, but thanks for rubbing it in, especially while sitting in the luxury of my family's legacy. You can shove your opinion of Malfoys up your ungrateful, spotted arse."
Unlike Ron, Draco got horrifyingly calm when he was angry, though right now his loathing radiated off of him and his voice cut as sharply as a Sectumsempra. He stood up, jerked his towel off of the bench and tied around his waist with trembling, white knuckled fingers. Blond fringe was plastered down his temples, but his focus was solely on Ron, who now wished he could make a vast hole into which he and his misery could crawl and never come back out.
"I'm not going to deign to discuss you and Potter. I thought I'd made it perfectly clear that I believed your vows during our handfasting. Whatever lingering issues you may have with him are your business. But don't you ever -EVER -insinuate that I have some dark, psychotic plan to take YOUR nephew away from you. Merlin, Ron-sometimes I want to hex you and your self-absorbed bollocks back to the dark ages. I'm fucking BOUND to you, though right now when you're bring a total prick, I really wonder why."
Draco left the sauna and slammed the door into place. His words stung; Ron felt physically bruised in the aftermath. He found it hard to breathe for a time, the heat of the room settling heavily in his lungs. It didn't help that there was now a self-berating chant in his head, beating him with the subtlety of a giant swinging a log. Pissed off Draco or no, he had to get out, inhale some cooler air. On wobbly legs, he shuffled into the expansive bathroom and saw he was alone.
"You're really a piece of fucking work," he muttered to himself, rummaging through his clothes to find his wand. " Accio scotch." A dull ache reverberated in his arm and he swore at himself for forgetting, yet again, that his current magical abilities were barely above that of a Squib. Fuming, he pulled on his boxers and tromped over to the bar, retrieving the Laphroaig. Back in the serene, white suite, he got a new towel and dropped it down onto the cool marble. The tepid air was soothing, cleaning out his head as he took a couple of slugs from the bottle. He lay down on his back, not bothering to cover himself, feeling the hairs on his arms stiffen slightly at the change in temperature. Why the hell did he let things so flagrantly stupid go pouring out of his mouth? He sat up partway to take another few swallows, spluttering a bit as the burn ratcheted down his throat. An image of Draco's certain disapproval came to him and he decided to at least mimic an adult for once in his life; he put the bottle up on a nearby shelf. Getting shit-faced would only make things worse, and he really didn't want that; he was in far too much trouble as it was.
When the relative chill got too much, he got up, took a hot shower and dressed. Glancing over at the jumble of towels, he looked for a basket to put them in, but of course there wasn't one; house-elves would have taken care of that in the past. Ron let out a dejected sigh that sounded pathetic even to his own ears before picking up the detritus from their sauna and heading off to the laundry. He'd check in on Xavier and maybe stop by Draco's in-house bakery if he was working in there, though he knew better than to go in and bother him. Ron had no doubt that Draco wouldn't want to speak to him for some time, and he mentally readied himself for a few days of getting the cold shoulder, which he deserved. An apology would be in order, and to say that he was pretty poor at those was a gross understatement. Draco being as responsible as he was, Ron was sure he'd cast the Renovo each day. That might be the most communication they'd have beyond cursory acknowledgements of each other if Ron didn't make his amends. Xavier would pick up on the tension between them for sure, and Ron despised lying in bed with Draco's back to him. It was far worse than sleeping alone, being shut out like that.
As he turned down the corridor and made his way to the lift that went to the lower levels of the Manor, he began to mull over what he could say to repair this latest gash he'd inflicted on their already strained relationship. He'd never been with anyone for a long period of time; maybe he wasn't meant for a long-term thing with anybody. Standing inside the lift, gazing at his despondent face through the mirrored sheen of Malfoysian crests, he realised that was rubbish. He'd made a commitment to Draco, and he'd meant it. All the same, he wouldn't mind spending a bit more time back over at their other house, the smaller one without the omnipresent pall of Malfoy everywhere he looked. Without his magic, though Ron was pants at cooking, he couldn't tell a rose from a pansy -well, maybe he'd recognise just those two -and he'd never been able to sweet talk.
"You can always grovel," he said glumly to his reflection. There was a melodious peal as the door opened to let him out. Just then, Ron's inner voice chimed in.
"Don't forget sex."
* * * * *
continue on to end