"No Shame, This Life, Beloved" post 2
Continued from here
After a time, the shock of Xavier's House wore off, and Ron threw himself gratefully into his work at St. Mungo's. He had his hands full, though not with particularly challenging patients. Ron found himself with a particularly challenging French intern, Jean-Luc Troyenne. He was exceptionally bright and his Healer's techniques were literally note-worthy; Ron had hurried back to his office at one point two weeks into Jean-Luc's stay to write down the particular gesture and nuance the young man had used in an otherwise standard equilibrium test. He didn't show up late, or hung over, traits that Ron had come to expect from his prior intern from Birmingham. Jean-Luc was the talk of all the female St. Mungo's staff. Ron's assistant Hyacinth even seemed taken with him, and she was totally devoted to her fiancée.
Ron should have been ecstatic to have someone as helpful and gracious as Jean-Luc, with bloody good bedside manner to top it off, despite having only just completed his studies at St. Etienne and almost no real experience under his belt. The young French Healer didn't even mind helping transcribe Ron's notes, written only approximately with his dicta-quill, or filing endless rolls of parchments, or fetching cups of tea. He was the ideal intern: enthusiastic, charming, and indecently attractive. The only problem? He'd also become smitten with Ron, to his utter shock and bewilderment.
By mid-October, Ron found himself in the unexpected position of seeking advice from Remus, sharing pints with him on a blustery Saturday afternoon. He'd not said anything to Draco, as he figured his bondmate would just tell him to enjoy it, and George wouldn't be of any help either. Remus was now on his second go 'round of being a Professor at Hogwarts, and might know what it was like to be in a position of authority and have someone inappropriate seemingly wanting to get into your pants.
"Is it really all that bad?" Remus asked after taking a swallow of dark lager.
Ron nodded vigourously. "It is! Other people don't really see it, though. All the witches kept asking me if he had a girlfriend back in France and I finally asked Jean-Luc myself. Not like intern and supervisor, but just friendly-like, y'know, one evening when we were getting ready to leave the hospital."
He paused, lifting his own glass and taking a pull on his ale. "Jean-Luc looked at me, in his trousers that flatter him everywhere and perfect, slightly tan skin with the hint of his five o'clock shadow and said, 'No, Ronald. Now I am single. But before, there was a someone. Roget.'" Ron was doing a pretty good job emulating his intern's accent, or so he guessed by Remus' amused expression.
"Roget," Remus echoed. "That's not a female name."
Ron gave Remus a look of disbelief, his brow furrowing. "No it's not. He's queer, but its subtle, which is why I didn't pick up on it at first, and the rest of the staff hasn't either."
"And this is a problem why?" Remus asked innocently.
"Because it's awkward! I can tell he's thinking about me in ways he shouldn't. I sometimes catch him just looking at me, I mean, I guess it's respect or something, but sometimes I feel like he's- oh, bloody hell, this sounds so ridiculous, because nobody would ever be ogling me, of all people "
Remus made a disapproving noise in his throat. "Surely you don't think Draco is the only person who's ever found you attractive?"
Ron shrugged his shoulders, non-committal. "It's like Jean-Luc's undressing me with his eyes. I know that sounds like utter shite, or something out of a bad novel, but it's the truth!"
Remus gazed speculatively at him, his wide-knuckled fingers smearing condensation on his glass. "Aren't you flattered?"
Ron's insides squirmed a bit before he answered. "Well, yeah, but It's not like I haven't mentioned Draco. I'm wearing a handfasting band. And I'm his bloody supervisor! I'm probably eight years older than he is. He's really subtle about it, at least when there are other people around, but it's noticeable when it's just the two of us. He's always so close, finding ways to compliment me without it sounding like rubbish, and even dropping hints about being open minded and discreet."
Remus' eyebrows raised. "Okay. Maybe you do have something to be worried about."
"Thank you," Ron said bitterly, draining half of his ale. "Of course it's flattering; he's young and smells brilliant, this scent of cloves, foreign air, and innocence." He barked a laugh. "Now I sound like something out of a bad novel."
Remus snorted lightly into his glass. "Well, as someone who has had the very occasional student express an inappropriate interest in me, I wager that if you remain professional and don't rise to any bait or suggestions, his crush will pass." His golden eyes harboured so much worldliness; Ron knew of the tragedies Remus had suffered in his life before coming to an unexpected peace that had led to being handfasted to George. It was unsettling, the way Remus seemed to look into Ron, rather than at him. "I suppose the weightier question is whether you're worried that you'd want to act on any of these propositions, currently unspoken."
Discomfort wriggled and burrowed uninvited in Ron's stomach. That was the real issue; trust Remus to get straight to it.
"Not in any real sense," Ron found himself saying, idly smearing a wet path on the tabletop. "He's not my type, whatever that is. I'm handfasted, so I wouldn't even consider it, and I'd never do that to Draco. I wouldn't want to. I don't want to," he said decisively, at last stalwart enough to look Remus in the face. "Honest. But it's pretty strange, knowing he's so keen. And I'm not bored with Draco or anything. At all. I'm just human, and Jean-Luc "
Sympathy and understanding were scrubbed into Remus' features as he regarded Ron, nodding. "You're saying you've simply acknowledged that your intern is good looking, that his obtuse suggestions for one on one recreation haven't left you totally unaffected, but you've no wish to pursue them?"
Ron let out a deep breath. "Yes. Exactly." The relief at being understood unwound the tighter knots in his torso and he smiled, draining the rest of his heady ale. "It's surreal in loads of ways- and no, I really haven't had a queue of guys think that I was the catch, or the good-looking one. S'pose this is good for my ego, but I can't help but feel guilty when he shows up in my dreams."
He signalled to their server, ordering a second round and a shot of firewhiskey for good measure. Though he certainly wasn't attracted to Remus in any kind of physical sense, he could understand how his brother, in that compelling pull of opposites, would find himself well matched and happy with the older man across the table. Remus had a way of diffusing chaos and frustration simply by being. No doubt George saw the more Marauder-like parts to Remus' personality in contexts Ron didn't need to consider. Ron had made his admission, been given sound advice, and felt more at peace than he had in weeks.
"In your dreams?" A tawny eyebrow raised toward Remus' forehead, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Well, sure. Since the War I've had vivid dreams," Ron explained, raising his shot glass to Remus in a silent salute before tossing it back. Merlin, but he loved that fiery trail through his chest of a first shot of something potent. He couldn't get shit-faced, though, as there was no point and he didn't want to have to explain himself to Draco.
Remus nodded slightly. "I dream a lot, too. Don't know if it's the lycanthropy, or my rather colourful life, or just part of being who I am."
"Seph kept wanting to analyse my dreams, while she was here," Ron said with a muffled laugh, remembering some of the letters his very-distant Weasley relative had written from Hogwarts. He only hoped she'd not ever gone to Trelawney for any of her insight into his subconscious.
"She's well?" Remus queried, glancing briefly at his watch.
"Yeah- no doubt she and Xavier are still quill mates, and he's filling up rolls of parchment telling her about his adventures. Glad he writes to us at least once a week, for now anyway."
A slow smile graced Remus' lips, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he did. "He's quite something. I never thought I'd see Severus take to a child - ever - much less one of such different lineage from his own."
Ron couldn't have agreed more. "Draco's been great, too. Don't know what we'll do if we get invited to Hogwarts for a Quidditch match, though. I'll eat broom polish on toast the day that Draco stands in the Hufflepuff section of the stands, I don't care how much he adores Xave."
Remus let out a low laugh before taking a long pull off of his second ale. "After the several years you've been together, I'd be careful what I say in regards to Mr. Malfoy, were I you. And I apologise, but I actually have a social appointment at your house with Severus. Chess," he elaborated.
"Dunno why he doesn't want to play me," Ron said without thinking, the thought catching up to him even as he shook his head. "Never mind; obviously it's the alcohol talking. He'd just as soon I be out of the picture as much as possible."
"Don't be uncharitable," Remus said, chiding him, though his voice was warm. His expression grew serious. "Do you mind doing another examination of him? My skills aren't nearly as well-honed or trained as yours."
Ron groaned. "Not again. Why can't you and Draco just convince him to go to St. Mungo's for a couple of days? We have all kinds of sophisticated equipment there, not just me and my wand."
"Yes, but he's too proud. Once Draco had him released, he vowed never to set foot in there again."
"Don't I know it."
Ron had heard Snape's vitriolic diatribes against his employer more times than he could count.
"Please, Ron."
The rare entreaty caused Ron to give Remus a piercing look after his finished his pint. Remus looked worried, which caused an entirely different kind of unpleasant feeling to pry fingers into his good spirits.
"All right," he acquiesced, vowing to prove once and for all that Severus was suffering not unexpected after-effects from months of taking anti-venom, combined with various Dark Magic curses and extensive time spent on the wrong end of a Cruciatus. "But not right now. You two have your appointment," he twisted his mouth to the side, "and I need to go to Diagon for some more writing supplies. See you at the Manor in a couple of hours. Oh! Remus?"
Remus looked up from his hands where he'd been counting out a few Galleons and Knuts to pay for his drinks. "Yes?"
"Thank you. No words to George of course, right?" Ron knew he didn't really need to spell that out, but he wanted to be sure Remus kept Ron's discomforts and minor tribulations to himself.
"Of course."
The kindliness in Remus' weathered face helped Ron recover his sense of tranquility. "I'm honoured that you wanted to talk to me about your situation," Remus said, getting up from their booth. "If it seems to be getting out of hand, just owl me, or firecall. I'll always keep your confidence. And for what it's worth, from my observances of him, I'm sure that Draco can handle knowing what's on your mind. It's both blessing and burden, having someone who knows you so well, and trusts you implicitly."
Ron pondered Remus' parting words as he sat in the booth for a time, smoking a cigarette before going out into the busy streets of Diagon Alley. An eerie, haunting noise caused him to look out the window, where he saw a wizard clutch too late as his hat was blown off his head. Must be the wind, he mused, not looking forward to being pummelled by the gusts tearing through the cobblestone paths. He couldn't postpone his trip indefinitely, so after figuring out a decent tip, he pulled on his coat and went out to battle the wind.
It was a relief to enter the sanctuary of Flourish and Blotts; Ron's ears and cheeks burned from the gale outside. He took his time navigating the aisles of parchments, envelopes, quills, inks and all other sorts of accoutrement that could possibly have to do with the art and craft of writing. He'd never been much of a correspondent with anyone, never kept a journal, and he knew his handwriting was pretty atrocious. With Xavier now at school a year earlier than expected, he'd found himself writing short letters to him on a regular basis. It hadn't taken Ron long to go through what few pieces of stationery he had, and he'd resorted to asking Draco for parchment and borrowing his quill or Muggle biro until Draco had told him to get his own bloody paper. That was only fair, Ron thought as he looked at a box of stationery with peacock feathers on it. Xavier was fond of the few remaining albino peacocks that still roamed the Manor ground; maybe he'd get that, even if it did look a bit poncy
"Ron! I did not expect to zee you here!"
Ron straightened up so quickly one of his vertebrae popped and he winced. Jean-Luc walked toward him, looking even more handsome than usual in his Muggle attire and not his Healer's robes. The heathered camel colour of his pullover brought out the gold flecks in his hazel eyes, and he wore a maroon scarf thrown jauntily over his shoulder. Everything in his carriage, how he held himself, bespoke of confidence but not arrogance. With a start, Ron recognised how similar his demeanour was to Draco's. No wonder Ron was feeling such jolts of guilty familiarity; not only were they spending much of every day together, but Jean-Luc's masculine grace and poise was uncannily similar to his bondmate's. Ron's libido could be forgiven just a little bit for its indiscretion, or so he hoped since a buzzing thrum of interest had decided to stir faintly between his legs.
Oh fuck.
Jean-Luc looked at the stationery Ron was holding in his hands, then back to at Ron, who realised he'd not even given a return greeting.
"Hi, Jean-Luc. Yeah, I'm not in here all that often. My nephew, y'know, the one who lives with us and is off at Hogwarts-"
"Xavier?" Jean-Luc interjected, perhaps to confirm that he had been listening when Ron had told him about his somewhat complicated family life.
"Yeah. I write him once a week, but I'd never been much of a letter writer, before. Draco suggested I get my own paper instead of nicking off with his all the time."
Jean-Luc edged closer so they were nearly touching, the faint spicy clove scent Ron had mentioned to Remus wafting to his senses. "Does Xavier like les paons? Peacocks?" he asked, enunciating the last word even though he kept an innocent expression on his face.
Ron had a sudden vision of his intern naked and strutting around like one of the birds. He imagined his lean body with a beckoning dark trail continuing down from the bit of chest hair Ron had seen peeking out under a button-down Jean-Luc had worn partly open one day. Ron mentally slapped himself and tried to banish the continuation of the scenario, which seemed to involve his intern gazing longingly at him with his large eyes, and sinking to his knees before pressing his face into Ron's groin.
"We have a few ancient ones," Ron replied to the question, embarrassed at the crack in his voice. "Draco's father had albino peacocks. Xave likes them. But I think maybe something a bit plainer would be better," he soldiered on, putting the box back on the shelf, wondering how many times he could mention Draco's name without sounding like an idiot.
Jean-Luc nodded agreeably, letting his gaze flicker down Ron's body and back before tilting his head and sniffing the air. "I need to get supplies for writing my friends, too." He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Do not think I'm prying, but have you been to zee pub?"
Ron cursed the flush he felt flaming at the tips of his ears. "Yeah, I met up with my brother's partner and had a couple of pints. It is Saturday," he said defensively.
"Oh! I did not mean to offend," Jean-Luc exclaimed, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder and squeezing it. "You smell very good. I will be meeting Michael and Eustace at zee badger?"
Ron noted that Jean-Luc hadn't removed his hand, but instead curled it over the knobby bone of his shoulder. He was tall, not quite as tall as Ron, but close enough that they saw nearly eye to eye.
"The Belligerent Badger?" Ron clarified, damning his vivid imagination that had continued through the tryst in his mind. It now featured Jean-Luc's distinctively long fingers grasping Ron's naked arse, and his lips and tongue doing amazing things to Ron's cock while Ron kneaded his hands through the young Frenchman's wavy hair.
"Yes. Would you like to join us? I'm sure they would not mind."
Jean-Luc removed his hand to rummage through a trouser pocket and pulled out some lip balm, using two fingers to coat his lips with the salve. He rubbed his lips together and Ron forced himself to focus on getting out of the shop, or at least away from his intern and get his hormones under control.
"No, but thanks," Ron said, hoping he sounded sincere. He didn't mind the other two blokes who both worked at the hospital, but it was only too easy for Ron to envision getting nice and buzzed and feeling Jean-Luc's hand on his leg, or wandering elsewhere. Why would Ron ever let anything like that happen? Why did he find it remotely appealing? He was overly conscious of the heaviness in his cock; not hard, really, but not totally inert either.
"Maybe Draco and I will have you over sometime, and I can introduce you two. You could see the peacocks," Ron ventured on lamely, berating himself for practically inviting his intern over without mentioning it to Draco first.
Jean-Luc's eyes lit up. "Oh, that would be wonderful. I would love to see zis large manor where you live. And Draco is very handsome," he said coyly, his lips curling to one side. Ron knew he'd seen the black and white photograph Colin had taken from their handfasting that he kept in a frame on his desk. "You are both very lucky, Draco especially."
Ron didn't know how to respond to that. It was obvious that Jean-Luc batted for his team, and he was French. Merlin only knew what kind of ideas he had in mind- a threesome? Surely not. Like Remus said, Ron just needed to be sure he wasn't leading his intern on.
"I'd say that I'm the lucky one. We've been handfasted nearly three years now, and were together a couple of years before that. I'm just glad he puts up with me. I'm not always the easiest person to live with."
A look of wistful longing settled on Jean-Luc's features and Ron was inexplicably struck with guilt. "Sorry, Jean-Luc," he said, his face a faint grimace of apology. "I know you said you used to be with somebody, and maybe you are now- it's not my business, really. I don't mean to rub your nose in it or anything."
"Rub my nose?" Jean-Luc said, obviously perplexed.
Ron turned to face him, keeping his voice down as Jean-Luc hung on his words. "I hope I didn't make you feel bad because I'm paired off and happy. When I was your age, my best friend had been killed, I was a real bloody mess, and I didn't know what to think about the fact that I liked blokes. I was pretty miserable there for a while."
"I have always had passion for men. It is not so much a big deal for me, where I live," Jean-Luc said earnestly, reaching out to rub his hand on Ron's forearm.
Maybe the French are just more touchy-feely, Ron thought to himself, remembering Fleur's effusive behaviour.
"Don't worry for me," Jean-Luc said more softly, his tone confiding. "I miss Roget, but truly, he was a prick. I deserve better."
A warm air of camaraderie breezed through Ron and his discomfort faded. "You certainly do. You're a really great guy, Jean-Luc," Ron said, meaning every word. "You're an incredibly talented Healer, and I'm so glad you're interning with me. And I probably shouldn't say this, but you must know you're pretty easy on the eyes. No doubt there'll be guys queuing up to try and go out with you, if they think you're interested."
Jean-Luc's challenging gaze and melancholy tone punctured Ron's feelings of comfort at being in protective big brother mode.
"Yes. Well, there is someone in whom I'm interested, but he seems not to feel the same way. Or perhaps he does, but he doesn't think he should do anything about it. I would reassure him that it would not affect my work, and I would not come between him and his lover. Partner. However you call him."
Hot, then cold flashed up and down Ron's spine. Jean-Luc had put his intentions out in the open, and Ron was caught totally off-guard. Yes, it was flattering, and unlike the winsome, earnest, pheromone-oozing young man right next to him, Ron did not now and never had had a slew of men wanting to be with him. But Ron had no intentions of walking down the path of infidelity, even if Jean-Luc believed it wouldn't affect their working relationship. It would most certainly come between Draco and him. Ron had a pair of bollocks, he just needed to ignore the traitorous wishes of the cock above them.
"Can we go outside? I think we should talk about this somewhere else," Ron said firmly, shoving his hands in his pockets and heading for the door.
Frustrated irritation gnawed at him. Why had this happened? Jean-Luc should never have put him in this awkward situation. Once outside, the wind tore at them and Ron let out a growl of anger. The world seemed to be conspiring against him. Jean-Luc had put on gloves and pulled up his collar, looking hopeful until he saw Ron's displeasure. Ron was sure it radiated off of him.
"It is not good talking weather," Jean-Luc insisted, his forehead furrowed.
"No," Ron agreed. "But this won't take long. Well, when are you meeting Eustace and Michael?"
Jean-Luc pushed back a coat sleeve to look at his watch. "Forty-five minutes from now."
"Let's Apparate near the Belligerent Badger. I won't keep you that long, but this wind's a bloody menace," Ron said scathingly.
Jean-Luc nodded, vanishing with a crack! as Ron focussed his intentions and thoughts on the street by the pub. Jean-Luc had picked a point a half-block away in the opposite direction, so they met at the door. Ron pushed it open, ruing the whole situation. He wished the tangled threads of his work, libido, this keen young man and Ron's exclusive life with Draco were all separate and not interfering with each other. Maybe it showed just how naïve he was; Ron really hadn't thought Jean-Luc would be so bold. As Jean-Luc went to a booth, Ron shouted their pints and took them to the table. Jean-Luc sat, his expression again distressingly Draco-like, inscrutable and defensive. Ron had thought the young man might get tipsy at the St. Mungo's Christmas party and say something inappropriate - loads of people did that, himself included - but Ron just hadn't expected him to be so blatant in the middle of Flourish and Blotts. It was all unnerving. He took a healthy swallow before organising his thoughts and looking Jean-Luc square in the face.
"I'm flattered. Really, I am. But nothing is going to happen between us. Not only am I your supervisor, but I'm bound to Draco. That's by choice, and love, and all kinds of other things. He and I have never talked about having any kind of open relationship, but I can tell you that it's really not even worth bringing up."
He paused, waiting to see Jean-Luc's reaction. Ron's mood was murky; he felt manipulated and yet, his ego couldn't help but be stroked by the attention. It made him frustrated with himself. Jean-Luc took a couple of pulls on his pint before running his fingers through his tousled hair. He twisted his lips to the side, suddenly seeming far older than his years.
"I like working with you, Ron," he said finally, taking another drink and then putting the glass off to the side. "Yes, I have some envy of zis relationship you have with your Draco. I think you, too, are a talented Healer. I am learning so very much. I have you to thank."
He intertwined his fingers in an inverted steeple, tapping his long thumb on his index finger. He studied it until he looked up again, resignation etched onto his elegant features. "I am sorry if I have made you unhappy with me. Where I come from, it is not uncommon for a student to learn many things from his mentor. Not all of these things have to do with work, especially if there is a pull between them. A feeling that is deeper. I have that for you, you don't for me. I understand," he finished with a refined shrug.
Ron tried to figure out the best way to thank his intern for his honesty, but still let him know that for him, at this point in time, nothing could happen between them.
"I'm not unhappy with you, not at all. You're a tremendous asset to St. Mungo's, and I know that won't change. And man to man, taking work out of the picture, yeah, if things in my life were different, I'd probably be reciprocating your feelings. but things aren't different, and I hope you can understand that."
They sat in strained silence for a few moments until Jean-Luc spoke again.
"I do understand. It is too bad that I cannot share some things I wish I could. Maybe later, maybe not. I am still glad to learn from you. Healing things," he said, reaching out a hand to clasp Ron's in his. "I still say that Draco is lucky. I would like to meet zis man who you are so loyal to, if that is okay."
Ron squeezed Jean-Luc's fingers, relief coursing through him again now that all seemed to be well. He found himself exceedingly grateful that this had all happened today. Monday morning he could look forward to getting back to work without the burden of Jean-Luc's unspoken desires hanging over him.
"I'm sure Draco would be more than happy to have you over sometime. I'll bring it up with him and find a weekend coming up when he's not too busy. Sound good?"
A subdued smile settled on Jean-Luc's lips. "Yes."
The conversation segued to Jean-Luc's plans of distinctively English activities and sights he wanted to see before going home at Christmas. Ron gave a few suggestions as he finished his pint and then took his leave, knowing Jean-Luc's friends would be arriving shortly. It was only when he got home that he realised how wrung out he was from both conversations, and he decided to indulge in a rare nap. Snatches of both discussions tumbled through his mind as he lay down on his bed, pulling up a blanket to cover himself.
"Never got any bloody parchment," he mumbled before letting his eyes drift shut.
* * * * *
It was a little over a week later that Ron lounged against the arm of the sofa, pops and faint hissing sounds bursting cheerily from the fireplace. The room was warm and comforting, something he'd never expected to feel when he'd first begun spending time at the Manor a couple of years ago. Draco had spelled the music from his downstairs kitchen to play unobtrusively in the study, some Muggle band whose lead singer had a very sexy voice. As Cousteau's low baritone crooned, Ron let his eyes drift shut. His fingers laced across Draco's stomach, who sat in the vee of Ron's legs reading a glossy brochure about a week-long pastry workshop taking place in Amsterdam. Blooming from nowhere, Ron felt a tenderness for Draco so strong it burned in his chest. He thought of trying to say something: Thanks for putting up with me; Thanks for knowing I'm not an idiot and believing in me; I really would fall apart if anything happened to you.
Instead, he let his hands ease down to Draco's groin, feathering against the soft flannel of his pyjama bottoms. Not sensing resistance, he continued a slow, intent massage of his inner thighs, eventually moving upward to stroke over the hard mound between Draco's legs. Draco let out a throaty hum of curiosity, settling back against Ron's chest.
"Something on your mind?" he drawled lazily, turning his neck so he could glance up into Ron's face. The tone in his voice let Ron know that Draco might not be feeling the same sappy affection that Ron was, but evidently he seemed similarly inclined for some physical communion.
Ron cupped the soft sacs through Draco's flannels, the other hand meandering underneath his waistband to pull gently on his stiffening cock. He leaned down to kiss Draco, the angle awkward but not impossible, especially as Draco arched up into Ron's hand and craned his neck so he could kiss Ron more deeply. Their tongues slid and parried together while Ron found his attentions torn between the hard length in his hand and his own erection pressing against his tracksuit bottoms.
Draco broke from the kiss to nuzzle against the side of Ron's neck. "Want to go to our room?" he asked, a husky burr roughening his voice. The sultry sound and faint lingering scent of fresh bread still in Draco's hair were Ron's undoing. He didn't want to leave the warm cave-like feeling of the room, he wanted them to be naked and he wanted to be holding onto his lover's lean torso, bringing them both pleasure in front of the fire. Now.
"Too much trouble," Ron said, his own voice thick with arousal and yearning. "Just Accio my tea tree oil lube, will you? I want us out of our clothes and to be sliding deep into you right here."
Draco let out a keening, needy sound of assent. He summoned the slick while they made short work of getting undressed. Draco padded over to an overstuffed chair and tugged a knitted throw off of it, handing it to Ron who spread it out on the couch. They resumed their slow, full-body caresses, facing each other at first, sharing wet heat of open-mouthed kisses and Ron holding their hard shafts in hand. Up and down he stroked, relishing the moment when Draco again pulled back from their kissing with a breathy moan. Draco sucked and kissed alongside Ron's jaw to breathe hot, moist air in Ron's sensitive ear, sending his clever tongue around until Ron made a strangled, desperate sound.
Draco didn't say a word, but Ron felt the smile against his skin before Draco turned to lie on his back. He lay still for a moment in concentration, doubtless casting a cleansing spell, before edging his arm under Ron's ribcage, pulling him close. Ron's blood pounded in his chest, his aching cock sliding under Draco's furred sacs, easing back and forth while Draco moaned, his eyes falling shut. Ron continued to frot against him, leaning over to snatch the lubricant off of the side table and coating his cock.
He looked over at Draco, his eyes open again, the pupils dilated from the dim light and lust. Draco's gaze smouldered as he pulled up his right leg, his body taut and almost trembling with such want that Ron's heart seemed to stumble in its rhythm. He guided his shaft and pushed steadily into Draco's body. Draco shuddered and sighed, his tight muscles drawing Ron in, his clenching grip smooth like the inside of a glove.
"Fuck, feel so good," Ron moaned, beginning a slow, resolute in and out movement like the pendulum on a clock. The tension mounted as he found himself speeding up until his hips were snapping with a need for more friction. They kissed, groans and sighs of pleasure punctuating the air when they broke apart to breathe, panting. Draco took himself in hand, pistoning on his jutting cock as he brought himself closer to release, a flush blooming up his neck. Ron slowed his loving assault to lean down, pulling one of Draco's hard nubs in his teeth. Draco cried out, his fingers claw-like and raking Ron's back. He squeezed around Ron, so deep and velvety. Ron's orgasm came pouring out of him, pulsing waves of relief and devotion as he mouthed dry kisses on Draco's chest, breathing heavily.
A few moments later and Draco's body contorted as he came, a feral, near-anguished cry tumbling out of his mouth. Ron lay protectively through his lover's aftershocks until Draco's hand stilled and he let his head fall back onto the couch, eyes closed and a tiny furrow between his pale eyebrows. Once Ron had regained a bit of composure he uncoupled them, adjusting their legs so they were intertwined and they lay on their sides, facing each other. In a languid gesture, Draco reached out and pulled Ron's long fringe behind one ear, a secretive ghost of a smile on his lips as he listed closer to Ron's chest.
"That was unexpected," he said, wetting his dry lips.
"Wouldn't want you getting bored, now would I?"
"I don't think we'll ever have to worry about that," Draco said meaningfully, rolling away far enough to get his wand. He cast needed cleansing spells before Ron spooned up next to him again, utterly at peace, his post-sex afterglow diffused all the way to the soles of his feet.
"Are you happy?" Ron asked quietly, not certain why that question had emerged out into the open. Since his conversation with Remus and Jean-Luc's blatant come-on, Ron had been overly sensitive to Draco and his moods. Draco's most innermost thoughts, hopes, fears- those he nearly always kept to himself. It wasn't out of spite, Ron knew that, it was just that Draco by nature was much more closeted and cautious with his feelings. Perhaps due to his own slightly shaken self-perceptions thanks to Jean-Luc's appeal, Ron found himself anxiously wanting to hear Draco say that they were okay.
Draco's expression was one of intrigue, but less guarded than usual. "Yes, actually, I am. You mean in the general sense, I take it? Happy here? Happy with our situation? Being handfasted to you?"
"Well, yeah. All of it. Just checking, y'know."
Ron wasn't thrilled at how uncertain he sounded, but they'd been through enough for him to trust that Draco knew it was only his own insecurities he was voicing. Given the sympathetic look in Draco's eyes, still soft doubtless due to his own sated lassitude, Draco had nailed the source of the question.
"Are you?" he asked, sliding up just enough to be able to rest his head in the crook of Ron's neck. "Did something happen I should know about?" His tone had taken on a chilly edge, though he kept his body language neutral.
"No. No, Draco, nothing happened," Ron flailed before the details of the whole awkward, but resolved issues with Jean-Luc came pouring out of him. Draco's hand had rested on Ron's upper thigh as Ron recounted his conversations, at last fanning out to squeeze the slight angle of Ron's hip once he quit speaking.
"We should have him over," Draco said firmly, leaning his head back so he could regard Ron's face. "And you can tell me when you've got something on your mind, too. I know I get caught up in my deadlines and schedule and worrying about Severus, but I'm not unobservant. I was hoping you'd have said something before now, actually. Trust me- if your cock ever led you somewhere else, I'd know about it as soon as you walked through the door. It's not even something I waste energy thinking about."
"You have an infidelity charm built into the wards?" Ron spluttered.
Draco rolled his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Ron. You wear your feelings on your bloody sleeve. Number one, you wouldn't sleep with someone else because the guilt would eat you alive. Number two, it'd be all over your face if you were even considering it and I'd ask you what the hell was wrong until you told me."
He paused, the stormy expression on his face receding. Ron lay beside him, both irritated and boundlessly grateful that Draco indeed knew him at least as well as he knew himself. But he'd been confidante and partner to Draco for several years, and their years of school-aged animosity and calculated observation meant he was certain Draco that had something else to say.
"And you wouldn't because of how I'd feel if you did. No fuck would be worth that to you," Draco said, his voice clipped and brittle.
"I don't even want to think about it," Ron said, feeling off-center and loose-limbed, as though he were sliding down a steep, slippery trail. "There'll never be anyone else. You're the one for me."
"I know I am."
It was spoken with such surety, that declaration, and Ron almost trembled with the solidity suddenly underneath his emotional footing.
"I'll check up on Severus before bed, and give you my professional assessment."
To a stranger listening to their exchange, Ron's comment might have seemed like a complete non sequiter, but it was his way of thanking Draco for trusting him so absolutely. Draco would know exactly the greater meaning behind Ron's unsolicited offer. He confirmed that by nodding, his fine hair rustling against the rough stubble on Ron's jaw next to his goatee.
"Thanks. Don't piss him off."
"I won't."
Ron wasn't ready to let go of Draco for quite a while, but Draco didn't appear to mind.
Continued here
After a time, the shock of Xavier's House wore off, and Ron threw himself gratefully into his work at St. Mungo's. He had his hands full, though not with particularly challenging patients. Ron found himself with a particularly challenging French intern, Jean-Luc Troyenne. He was exceptionally bright and his Healer's techniques were literally note-worthy; Ron had hurried back to his office at one point two weeks into Jean-Luc's stay to write down the particular gesture and nuance the young man had used in an otherwise standard equilibrium test. He didn't show up late, or hung over, traits that Ron had come to expect from his prior intern from Birmingham. Jean-Luc was the talk of all the female St. Mungo's staff. Ron's assistant Hyacinth even seemed taken with him, and she was totally devoted to her fiancée.
Ron should have been ecstatic to have someone as helpful and gracious as Jean-Luc, with bloody good bedside manner to top it off, despite having only just completed his studies at St. Etienne and almost no real experience under his belt. The young French Healer didn't even mind helping transcribe Ron's notes, written only approximately with his dicta-quill, or filing endless rolls of parchments, or fetching cups of tea. He was the ideal intern: enthusiastic, charming, and indecently attractive. The only problem? He'd also become smitten with Ron, to his utter shock and bewilderment.
By mid-October, Ron found himself in the unexpected position of seeking advice from Remus, sharing pints with him on a blustery Saturday afternoon. He'd not said anything to Draco, as he figured his bondmate would just tell him to enjoy it, and George wouldn't be of any help either. Remus was now on his second go 'round of being a Professor at Hogwarts, and might know what it was like to be in a position of authority and have someone inappropriate seemingly wanting to get into your pants.
"Is it really all that bad?" Remus asked after taking a swallow of dark lager.
Ron nodded vigourously. "It is! Other people don't really see it, though. All the witches kept asking me if he had a girlfriend back in France and I finally asked Jean-Luc myself. Not like intern and supervisor, but just friendly-like, y'know, one evening when we were getting ready to leave the hospital."
He paused, lifting his own glass and taking a pull on his ale. "Jean-Luc looked at me, in his trousers that flatter him everywhere and perfect, slightly tan skin with the hint of his five o'clock shadow and said, 'No, Ronald. Now I am single. But before, there was a someone. Roget.'" Ron was doing a pretty good job emulating his intern's accent, or so he guessed by Remus' amused expression.
"Roget," Remus echoed. "That's not a female name."
Ron gave Remus a look of disbelief, his brow furrowing. "No it's not. He's queer, but its subtle, which is why I didn't pick up on it at first, and the rest of the staff hasn't either."
"And this is a problem why?" Remus asked innocently.
"Because it's awkward! I can tell he's thinking about me in ways he shouldn't. I sometimes catch him just looking at me, I mean, I guess it's respect or something, but sometimes I feel like he's- oh, bloody hell, this sounds so ridiculous, because nobody would ever be ogling me, of all people "
Remus made a disapproving noise in his throat. "Surely you don't think Draco is the only person who's ever found you attractive?"
Ron shrugged his shoulders, non-committal. "It's like Jean-Luc's undressing me with his eyes. I know that sounds like utter shite, or something out of a bad novel, but it's the truth!"
Remus gazed speculatively at him, his wide-knuckled fingers smearing condensation on his glass. "Aren't you flattered?"
Ron's insides squirmed a bit before he answered. "Well, yeah, but It's not like I haven't mentioned Draco. I'm wearing a handfasting band. And I'm his bloody supervisor! I'm probably eight years older than he is. He's really subtle about it, at least when there are other people around, but it's noticeable when it's just the two of us. He's always so close, finding ways to compliment me without it sounding like rubbish, and even dropping hints about being open minded and discreet."
Remus' eyebrows raised. "Okay. Maybe you do have something to be worried about."
"Thank you," Ron said bitterly, draining half of his ale. "Of course it's flattering; he's young and smells brilliant, this scent of cloves, foreign air, and innocence." He barked a laugh. "Now I sound like something out of a bad novel."
Remus snorted lightly into his glass. "Well, as someone who has had the very occasional student express an inappropriate interest in me, I wager that if you remain professional and don't rise to any bait or suggestions, his crush will pass." His golden eyes harboured so much worldliness; Ron knew of the tragedies Remus had suffered in his life before coming to an unexpected peace that had led to being handfasted to George. It was unsettling, the way Remus seemed to look into Ron, rather than at him. "I suppose the weightier question is whether you're worried that you'd want to act on any of these propositions, currently unspoken."
Discomfort wriggled and burrowed uninvited in Ron's stomach. That was the real issue; trust Remus to get straight to it.
"Not in any real sense," Ron found himself saying, idly smearing a wet path on the tabletop. "He's not my type, whatever that is. I'm handfasted, so I wouldn't even consider it, and I'd never do that to Draco. I wouldn't want to. I don't want to," he said decisively, at last stalwart enough to look Remus in the face. "Honest. But it's pretty strange, knowing he's so keen. And I'm not bored with Draco or anything. At all. I'm just human, and Jean-Luc "
Sympathy and understanding were scrubbed into Remus' features as he regarded Ron, nodding. "You're saying you've simply acknowledged that your intern is good looking, that his obtuse suggestions for one on one recreation haven't left you totally unaffected, but you've no wish to pursue them?"
Ron let out a deep breath. "Yes. Exactly." The relief at being understood unwound the tighter knots in his torso and he smiled, draining the rest of his heady ale. "It's surreal in loads of ways- and no, I really haven't had a queue of guys think that I was the catch, or the good-looking one. S'pose this is good for my ego, but I can't help but feel guilty when he shows up in my dreams."
He signalled to their server, ordering a second round and a shot of firewhiskey for good measure. Though he certainly wasn't attracted to Remus in any kind of physical sense, he could understand how his brother, in that compelling pull of opposites, would find himself well matched and happy with the older man across the table. Remus had a way of diffusing chaos and frustration simply by being. No doubt George saw the more Marauder-like parts to Remus' personality in contexts Ron didn't need to consider. Ron had made his admission, been given sound advice, and felt more at peace than he had in weeks.
"In your dreams?" A tawny eyebrow raised toward Remus' forehead, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Well, sure. Since the War I've had vivid dreams," Ron explained, raising his shot glass to Remus in a silent salute before tossing it back. Merlin, but he loved that fiery trail through his chest of a first shot of something potent. He couldn't get shit-faced, though, as there was no point and he didn't want to have to explain himself to Draco.
Remus nodded slightly. "I dream a lot, too. Don't know if it's the lycanthropy, or my rather colourful life, or just part of being who I am."
"Seph kept wanting to analyse my dreams, while she was here," Ron said with a muffled laugh, remembering some of the letters his very-distant Weasley relative had written from Hogwarts. He only hoped she'd not ever gone to Trelawney for any of her insight into his subconscious.
"She's well?" Remus queried, glancing briefly at his watch.
"Yeah- no doubt she and Xavier are still quill mates, and he's filling up rolls of parchment telling her about his adventures. Glad he writes to us at least once a week, for now anyway."
A slow smile graced Remus' lips, the lines around his eyes crinkling as he did. "He's quite something. I never thought I'd see Severus take to a child - ever - much less one of such different lineage from his own."
Ron couldn't have agreed more. "Draco's been great, too. Don't know what we'll do if we get invited to Hogwarts for a Quidditch match, though. I'll eat broom polish on toast the day that Draco stands in the Hufflepuff section of the stands, I don't care how much he adores Xave."
Remus let out a low laugh before taking a long pull off of his second ale. "After the several years you've been together, I'd be careful what I say in regards to Mr. Malfoy, were I you. And I apologise, but I actually have a social appointment at your house with Severus. Chess," he elaborated.
"Dunno why he doesn't want to play me," Ron said without thinking, the thought catching up to him even as he shook his head. "Never mind; obviously it's the alcohol talking. He'd just as soon I be out of the picture as much as possible."
"Don't be uncharitable," Remus said, chiding him, though his voice was warm. His expression grew serious. "Do you mind doing another examination of him? My skills aren't nearly as well-honed or trained as yours."
Ron groaned. "Not again. Why can't you and Draco just convince him to go to St. Mungo's for a couple of days? We have all kinds of sophisticated equipment there, not just me and my wand."
"Yes, but he's too proud. Once Draco had him released, he vowed never to set foot in there again."
"Don't I know it."
Ron had heard Snape's vitriolic diatribes against his employer more times than he could count.
"Please, Ron."
The rare entreaty caused Ron to give Remus a piercing look after his finished his pint. Remus looked worried, which caused an entirely different kind of unpleasant feeling to pry fingers into his good spirits.
"All right," he acquiesced, vowing to prove once and for all that Severus was suffering not unexpected after-effects from months of taking anti-venom, combined with various Dark Magic curses and extensive time spent on the wrong end of a Cruciatus. "But not right now. You two have your appointment," he twisted his mouth to the side, "and I need to go to Diagon for some more writing supplies. See you at the Manor in a couple of hours. Oh! Remus?"
Remus looked up from his hands where he'd been counting out a few Galleons and Knuts to pay for his drinks. "Yes?"
"Thank you. No words to George of course, right?" Ron knew he didn't really need to spell that out, but he wanted to be sure Remus kept Ron's discomforts and minor tribulations to himself.
"Of course."
The kindliness in Remus' weathered face helped Ron recover his sense of tranquility. "I'm honoured that you wanted to talk to me about your situation," Remus said, getting up from their booth. "If it seems to be getting out of hand, just owl me, or firecall. I'll always keep your confidence. And for what it's worth, from my observances of him, I'm sure that Draco can handle knowing what's on your mind. It's both blessing and burden, having someone who knows you so well, and trusts you implicitly."
Ron pondered Remus' parting words as he sat in the booth for a time, smoking a cigarette before going out into the busy streets of Diagon Alley. An eerie, haunting noise caused him to look out the window, where he saw a wizard clutch too late as his hat was blown off his head. Must be the wind, he mused, not looking forward to being pummelled by the gusts tearing through the cobblestone paths. He couldn't postpone his trip indefinitely, so after figuring out a decent tip, he pulled on his coat and went out to battle the wind.
It was a relief to enter the sanctuary of Flourish and Blotts; Ron's ears and cheeks burned from the gale outside. He took his time navigating the aisles of parchments, envelopes, quills, inks and all other sorts of accoutrement that could possibly have to do with the art and craft of writing. He'd never been much of a correspondent with anyone, never kept a journal, and he knew his handwriting was pretty atrocious. With Xavier now at school a year earlier than expected, he'd found himself writing short letters to him on a regular basis. It hadn't taken Ron long to go through what few pieces of stationery he had, and he'd resorted to asking Draco for parchment and borrowing his quill or Muggle biro until Draco had told him to get his own bloody paper. That was only fair, Ron thought as he looked at a box of stationery with peacock feathers on it. Xavier was fond of the few remaining albino peacocks that still roamed the Manor ground; maybe he'd get that, even if it did look a bit poncy
"Ron! I did not expect to zee you here!"
Ron straightened up so quickly one of his vertebrae popped and he winced. Jean-Luc walked toward him, looking even more handsome than usual in his Muggle attire and not his Healer's robes. The heathered camel colour of his pullover brought out the gold flecks in his hazel eyes, and he wore a maroon scarf thrown jauntily over his shoulder. Everything in his carriage, how he held himself, bespoke of confidence but not arrogance. With a start, Ron recognised how similar his demeanour was to Draco's. No wonder Ron was feeling such jolts of guilty familiarity; not only were they spending much of every day together, but Jean-Luc's masculine grace and poise was uncannily similar to his bondmate's. Ron's libido could be forgiven just a little bit for its indiscretion, or so he hoped since a buzzing thrum of interest had decided to stir faintly between his legs.
Oh fuck.
Jean-Luc looked at the stationery Ron was holding in his hands, then back to at Ron, who realised he'd not even given a return greeting.
"Hi, Jean-Luc. Yeah, I'm not in here all that often. My nephew, y'know, the one who lives with us and is off at Hogwarts-"
"Xavier?" Jean-Luc interjected, perhaps to confirm that he had been listening when Ron had told him about his somewhat complicated family life.
"Yeah. I write him once a week, but I'd never been much of a letter writer, before. Draco suggested I get my own paper instead of nicking off with his all the time."
Jean-Luc edged closer so they were nearly touching, the faint spicy clove scent Ron had mentioned to Remus wafting to his senses. "Does Xavier like les paons? Peacocks?" he asked, enunciating the last word even though he kept an innocent expression on his face.
Ron had a sudden vision of his intern naked and strutting around like one of the birds. He imagined his lean body with a beckoning dark trail continuing down from the bit of chest hair Ron had seen peeking out under a button-down Jean-Luc had worn partly open one day. Ron mentally slapped himself and tried to banish the continuation of the scenario, which seemed to involve his intern gazing longingly at him with his large eyes, and sinking to his knees before pressing his face into Ron's groin.
"We have a few ancient ones," Ron replied to the question, embarrassed at the crack in his voice. "Draco's father had albino peacocks. Xave likes them. But I think maybe something a bit plainer would be better," he soldiered on, putting the box back on the shelf, wondering how many times he could mention Draco's name without sounding like an idiot.
Jean-Luc nodded agreeably, letting his gaze flicker down Ron's body and back before tilting his head and sniffing the air. "I need to get supplies for writing my friends, too." He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Do not think I'm prying, but have you been to zee pub?"
Ron cursed the flush he felt flaming at the tips of his ears. "Yeah, I met up with my brother's partner and had a couple of pints. It is Saturday," he said defensively.
"Oh! I did not mean to offend," Jean-Luc exclaimed, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder and squeezing it. "You smell very good. I will be meeting Michael and Eustace at zee badger?"
Ron noted that Jean-Luc hadn't removed his hand, but instead curled it over the knobby bone of his shoulder. He was tall, not quite as tall as Ron, but close enough that they saw nearly eye to eye.
"The Belligerent Badger?" Ron clarified, damning his vivid imagination that had continued through the tryst in his mind. It now featured Jean-Luc's distinctively long fingers grasping Ron's naked arse, and his lips and tongue doing amazing things to Ron's cock while Ron kneaded his hands through the young Frenchman's wavy hair.
"Yes. Would you like to join us? I'm sure they would not mind."
Jean-Luc removed his hand to rummage through a trouser pocket and pulled out some lip balm, using two fingers to coat his lips with the salve. He rubbed his lips together and Ron forced himself to focus on getting out of the shop, or at least away from his intern and get his hormones under control.
"No, but thanks," Ron said, hoping he sounded sincere. He didn't mind the other two blokes who both worked at the hospital, but it was only too easy for Ron to envision getting nice and buzzed and feeling Jean-Luc's hand on his leg, or wandering elsewhere. Why would Ron ever let anything like that happen? Why did he find it remotely appealing? He was overly conscious of the heaviness in his cock; not hard, really, but not totally inert either.
"Maybe Draco and I will have you over sometime, and I can introduce you two. You could see the peacocks," Ron ventured on lamely, berating himself for practically inviting his intern over without mentioning it to Draco first.
Jean-Luc's eyes lit up. "Oh, that would be wonderful. I would love to see zis large manor where you live. And Draco is very handsome," he said coyly, his lips curling to one side. Ron knew he'd seen the black and white photograph Colin had taken from their handfasting that he kept in a frame on his desk. "You are both very lucky, Draco especially."
Ron didn't know how to respond to that. It was obvious that Jean-Luc batted for his team, and he was French. Merlin only knew what kind of ideas he had in mind- a threesome? Surely not. Like Remus said, Ron just needed to be sure he wasn't leading his intern on.
"I'd say that I'm the lucky one. We've been handfasted nearly three years now, and were together a couple of years before that. I'm just glad he puts up with me. I'm not always the easiest person to live with."
A look of wistful longing settled on Jean-Luc's features and Ron was inexplicably struck with guilt. "Sorry, Jean-Luc," he said, his face a faint grimace of apology. "I know you said you used to be with somebody, and maybe you are now- it's not my business, really. I don't mean to rub your nose in it or anything."
"Rub my nose?" Jean-Luc said, obviously perplexed.
Ron turned to face him, keeping his voice down as Jean-Luc hung on his words. "I hope I didn't make you feel bad because I'm paired off and happy. When I was your age, my best friend had been killed, I was a real bloody mess, and I didn't know what to think about the fact that I liked blokes. I was pretty miserable there for a while."
"I have always had passion for men. It is not so much a big deal for me, where I live," Jean-Luc said earnestly, reaching out to rub his hand on Ron's forearm.
Maybe the French are just more touchy-feely, Ron thought to himself, remembering Fleur's effusive behaviour.
"Don't worry for me," Jean-Luc said more softly, his tone confiding. "I miss Roget, but truly, he was a prick. I deserve better."
A warm air of camaraderie breezed through Ron and his discomfort faded. "You certainly do. You're a really great guy, Jean-Luc," Ron said, meaning every word. "You're an incredibly talented Healer, and I'm so glad you're interning with me. And I probably shouldn't say this, but you must know you're pretty easy on the eyes. No doubt there'll be guys queuing up to try and go out with you, if they think you're interested."
Jean-Luc's challenging gaze and melancholy tone punctured Ron's feelings of comfort at being in protective big brother mode.
"Yes. Well, there is someone in whom I'm interested, but he seems not to feel the same way. Or perhaps he does, but he doesn't think he should do anything about it. I would reassure him that it would not affect my work, and I would not come between him and his lover. Partner. However you call him."
Hot, then cold flashed up and down Ron's spine. Jean-Luc had put his intentions out in the open, and Ron was caught totally off-guard. Yes, it was flattering, and unlike the winsome, earnest, pheromone-oozing young man right next to him, Ron did not now and never had had a slew of men wanting to be with him. But Ron had no intentions of walking down the path of infidelity, even if Jean-Luc believed it wouldn't affect their working relationship. It would most certainly come between Draco and him. Ron had a pair of bollocks, he just needed to ignore the traitorous wishes of the cock above them.
"Can we go outside? I think we should talk about this somewhere else," Ron said firmly, shoving his hands in his pockets and heading for the door.
Frustrated irritation gnawed at him. Why had this happened? Jean-Luc should never have put him in this awkward situation. Once outside, the wind tore at them and Ron let out a growl of anger. The world seemed to be conspiring against him. Jean-Luc had put on gloves and pulled up his collar, looking hopeful until he saw Ron's displeasure. Ron was sure it radiated off of him.
"It is not good talking weather," Jean-Luc insisted, his forehead furrowed.
"No," Ron agreed. "But this won't take long. Well, when are you meeting Eustace and Michael?"
Jean-Luc pushed back a coat sleeve to look at his watch. "Forty-five minutes from now."
"Let's Apparate near the Belligerent Badger. I won't keep you that long, but this wind's a bloody menace," Ron said scathingly.
Jean-Luc nodded, vanishing with a crack! as Ron focussed his intentions and thoughts on the street by the pub. Jean-Luc had picked a point a half-block away in the opposite direction, so they met at the door. Ron pushed it open, ruing the whole situation. He wished the tangled threads of his work, libido, this keen young man and Ron's exclusive life with Draco were all separate and not interfering with each other. Maybe it showed just how naïve he was; Ron really hadn't thought Jean-Luc would be so bold. As Jean-Luc went to a booth, Ron shouted their pints and took them to the table. Jean-Luc sat, his expression again distressingly Draco-like, inscrutable and defensive. Ron had thought the young man might get tipsy at the St. Mungo's Christmas party and say something inappropriate - loads of people did that, himself included - but Ron just hadn't expected him to be so blatant in the middle of Flourish and Blotts. It was all unnerving. He took a healthy swallow before organising his thoughts and looking Jean-Luc square in the face.
"I'm flattered. Really, I am. But nothing is going to happen between us. Not only am I your supervisor, but I'm bound to Draco. That's by choice, and love, and all kinds of other things. He and I have never talked about having any kind of open relationship, but I can tell you that it's really not even worth bringing up."
He paused, waiting to see Jean-Luc's reaction. Ron's mood was murky; he felt manipulated and yet, his ego couldn't help but be stroked by the attention. It made him frustrated with himself. Jean-Luc took a couple of pulls on his pint before running his fingers through his tousled hair. He twisted his lips to the side, suddenly seeming far older than his years.
"I like working with you, Ron," he said finally, taking another drink and then putting the glass off to the side. "Yes, I have some envy of zis relationship you have with your Draco. I think you, too, are a talented Healer. I am learning so very much. I have you to thank."
He intertwined his fingers in an inverted steeple, tapping his long thumb on his index finger. He studied it until he looked up again, resignation etched onto his elegant features. "I am sorry if I have made you unhappy with me. Where I come from, it is not uncommon for a student to learn many things from his mentor. Not all of these things have to do with work, especially if there is a pull between them. A feeling that is deeper. I have that for you, you don't for me. I understand," he finished with a refined shrug.
Ron tried to figure out the best way to thank his intern for his honesty, but still let him know that for him, at this point in time, nothing could happen between them.
"I'm not unhappy with you, not at all. You're a tremendous asset to St. Mungo's, and I know that won't change. And man to man, taking work out of the picture, yeah, if things in my life were different, I'd probably be reciprocating your feelings. but things aren't different, and I hope you can understand that."
They sat in strained silence for a few moments until Jean-Luc spoke again.
"I do understand. It is too bad that I cannot share some things I wish I could. Maybe later, maybe not. I am still glad to learn from you. Healing things," he said, reaching out a hand to clasp Ron's in his. "I still say that Draco is lucky. I would like to meet zis man who you are so loyal to, if that is okay."
Ron squeezed Jean-Luc's fingers, relief coursing through him again now that all seemed to be well. He found himself exceedingly grateful that this had all happened today. Monday morning he could look forward to getting back to work without the burden of Jean-Luc's unspoken desires hanging over him.
"I'm sure Draco would be more than happy to have you over sometime. I'll bring it up with him and find a weekend coming up when he's not too busy. Sound good?"
A subdued smile settled on Jean-Luc's lips. "Yes."
The conversation segued to Jean-Luc's plans of distinctively English activities and sights he wanted to see before going home at Christmas. Ron gave a few suggestions as he finished his pint and then took his leave, knowing Jean-Luc's friends would be arriving shortly. It was only when he got home that he realised how wrung out he was from both conversations, and he decided to indulge in a rare nap. Snatches of both discussions tumbled through his mind as he lay down on his bed, pulling up a blanket to cover himself.
"Never got any bloody parchment," he mumbled before letting his eyes drift shut.
* * * * *
It was a little over a week later that Ron lounged against the arm of the sofa, pops and faint hissing sounds bursting cheerily from the fireplace. The room was warm and comforting, something he'd never expected to feel when he'd first begun spending time at the Manor a couple of years ago. Draco had spelled the music from his downstairs kitchen to play unobtrusively in the study, some Muggle band whose lead singer had a very sexy voice. As Cousteau's low baritone crooned, Ron let his eyes drift shut. His fingers laced across Draco's stomach, who sat in the vee of Ron's legs reading a glossy brochure about a week-long pastry workshop taking place in Amsterdam. Blooming from nowhere, Ron felt a tenderness for Draco so strong it burned in his chest. He thought of trying to say something: Thanks for putting up with me; Thanks for knowing I'm not an idiot and believing in me; I really would fall apart if anything happened to you.
Instead, he let his hands ease down to Draco's groin, feathering against the soft flannel of his pyjama bottoms. Not sensing resistance, he continued a slow, intent massage of his inner thighs, eventually moving upward to stroke over the hard mound between Draco's legs. Draco let out a throaty hum of curiosity, settling back against Ron's chest.
"Something on your mind?" he drawled lazily, turning his neck so he could glance up into Ron's face. The tone in his voice let Ron know that Draco might not be feeling the same sappy affection that Ron was, but evidently he seemed similarly inclined for some physical communion.
Ron cupped the soft sacs through Draco's flannels, the other hand meandering underneath his waistband to pull gently on his stiffening cock. He leaned down to kiss Draco, the angle awkward but not impossible, especially as Draco arched up into Ron's hand and craned his neck so he could kiss Ron more deeply. Their tongues slid and parried together while Ron found his attentions torn between the hard length in his hand and his own erection pressing against his tracksuit bottoms.
Draco broke from the kiss to nuzzle against the side of Ron's neck. "Want to go to our room?" he asked, a husky burr roughening his voice. The sultry sound and faint lingering scent of fresh bread still in Draco's hair were Ron's undoing. He didn't want to leave the warm cave-like feeling of the room, he wanted them to be naked and he wanted to be holding onto his lover's lean torso, bringing them both pleasure in front of the fire. Now.
"Too much trouble," Ron said, his own voice thick with arousal and yearning. "Just Accio my tea tree oil lube, will you? I want us out of our clothes and to be sliding deep into you right here."
Draco let out a keening, needy sound of assent. He summoned the slick while they made short work of getting undressed. Draco padded over to an overstuffed chair and tugged a knitted throw off of it, handing it to Ron who spread it out on the couch. They resumed their slow, full-body caresses, facing each other at first, sharing wet heat of open-mouthed kisses and Ron holding their hard shafts in hand. Up and down he stroked, relishing the moment when Draco again pulled back from their kissing with a breathy moan. Draco sucked and kissed alongside Ron's jaw to breathe hot, moist air in Ron's sensitive ear, sending his clever tongue around until Ron made a strangled, desperate sound.
Draco didn't say a word, but Ron felt the smile against his skin before Draco turned to lie on his back. He lay still for a moment in concentration, doubtless casting a cleansing spell, before edging his arm under Ron's ribcage, pulling him close. Ron's blood pounded in his chest, his aching cock sliding under Draco's furred sacs, easing back and forth while Draco moaned, his eyes falling shut. Ron continued to frot against him, leaning over to snatch the lubricant off of the side table and coating his cock.
He looked over at Draco, his eyes open again, the pupils dilated from the dim light and lust. Draco's gaze smouldered as he pulled up his right leg, his body taut and almost trembling with such want that Ron's heart seemed to stumble in its rhythm. He guided his shaft and pushed steadily into Draco's body. Draco shuddered and sighed, his tight muscles drawing Ron in, his clenching grip smooth like the inside of a glove.
"Fuck, feel so good," Ron moaned, beginning a slow, resolute in and out movement like the pendulum on a clock. The tension mounted as he found himself speeding up until his hips were snapping with a need for more friction. They kissed, groans and sighs of pleasure punctuating the air when they broke apart to breathe, panting. Draco took himself in hand, pistoning on his jutting cock as he brought himself closer to release, a flush blooming up his neck. Ron slowed his loving assault to lean down, pulling one of Draco's hard nubs in his teeth. Draco cried out, his fingers claw-like and raking Ron's back. He squeezed around Ron, so deep and velvety. Ron's orgasm came pouring out of him, pulsing waves of relief and devotion as he mouthed dry kisses on Draco's chest, breathing heavily.
A few moments later and Draco's body contorted as he came, a feral, near-anguished cry tumbling out of his mouth. Ron lay protectively through his lover's aftershocks until Draco's hand stilled and he let his head fall back onto the couch, eyes closed and a tiny furrow between his pale eyebrows. Once Ron had regained a bit of composure he uncoupled them, adjusting their legs so they were intertwined and they lay on their sides, facing each other. In a languid gesture, Draco reached out and pulled Ron's long fringe behind one ear, a secretive ghost of a smile on his lips as he listed closer to Ron's chest.
"That was unexpected," he said, wetting his dry lips.
"Wouldn't want you getting bored, now would I?"
"I don't think we'll ever have to worry about that," Draco said meaningfully, rolling away far enough to get his wand. He cast needed cleansing spells before Ron spooned up next to him again, utterly at peace, his post-sex afterglow diffused all the way to the soles of his feet.
"Are you happy?" Ron asked quietly, not certain why that question had emerged out into the open. Since his conversation with Remus and Jean-Luc's blatant come-on, Ron had been overly sensitive to Draco and his moods. Draco's most innermost thoughts, hopes, fears- those he nearly always kept to himself. It wasn't out of spite, Ron knew that, it was just that Draco by nature was much more closeted and cautious with his feelings. Perhaps due to his own slightly shaken self-perceptions thanks to Jean-Luc's appeal, Ron found himself anxiously wanting to hear Draco say that they were okay.
Draco's expression was one of intrigue, but less guarded than usual. "Yes, actually, I am. You mean in the general sense, I take it? Happy here? Happy with our situation? Being handfasted to you?"
"Well, yeah. All of it. Just checking, y'know."
Ron wasn't thrilled at how uncertain he sounded, but they'd been through enough for him to trust that Draco knew it was only his own insecurities he was voicing. Given the sympathetic look in Draco's eyes, still soft doubtless due to his own sated lassitude, Draco had nailed the source of the question.
"Are you?" he asked, sliding up just enough to be able to rest his head in the crook of Ron's neck. "Did something happen I should know about?" His tone had taken on a chilly edge, though he kept his body language neutral.
"No. No, Draco, nothing happened," Ron flailed before the details of the whole awkward, but resolved issues with Jean-Luc came pouring out of him. Draco's hand had rested on Ron's upper thigh as Ron recounted his conversations, at last fanning out to squeeze the slight angle of Ron's hip once he quit speaking.
"We should have him over," Draco said firmly, leaning his head back so he could regard Ron's face. "And you can tell me when you've got something on your mind, too. I know I get caught up in my deadlines and schedule and worrying about Severus, but I'm not unobservant. I was hoping you'd have said something before now, actually. Trust me- if your cock ever led you somewhere else, I'd know about it as soon as you walked through the door. It's not even something I waste energy thinking about."
"You have an infidelity charm built into the wards?" Ron spluttered.
Draco rolled his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Ron. You wear your feelings on your bloody sleeve. Number one, you wouldn't sleep with someone else because the guilt would eat you alive. Number two, it'd be all over your face if you were even considering it and I'd ask you what the hell was wrong until you told me."
He paused, the stormy expression on his face receding. Ron lay beside him, both irritated and boundlessly grateful that Draco indeed knew him at least as well as he knew himself. But he'd been confidante and partner to Draco for several years, and their years of school-aged animosity and calculated observation meant he was certain Draco that had something else to say.
"And you wouldn't because of how I'd feel if you did. No fuck would be worth that to you," Draco said, his voice clipped and brittle.
"I don't even want to think about it," Ron said, feeling off-center and loose-limbed, as though he were sliding down a steep, slippery trail. "There'll never be anyone else. You're the one for me."
"I know I am."
It was spoken with such surety, that declaration, and Ron almost trembled with the solidity suddenly underneath his emotional footing.
"I'll check up on Severus before bed, and give you my professional assessment."
To a stranger listening to their exchange, Ron's comment might have seemed like a complete non sequiter, but it was his way of thanking Draco for trusting him so absolutely. Draco would know exactly the greater meaning behind Ron's unsolicited offer. He confirmed that by nodding, his fine hair rustling against the rough stubble on Ron's jaw next to his goatee.
"Thanks. Don't piss him off."
"I won't."
Ron wasn't ready to let go of Draco for quite a while, but Draco didn't appear to mind.
Continued here