my_thestral ◾ ◾ Fic: Art of denial (Part 11/1)

Author's note: Damn it, I had to break it into several parts, this whole wedding chapter should have been one thing, but - damn LJ... :P The next part soon - or in a day or so, I'm being pressured to continue with Choices as well... I wish I had the brain to finish one before I picked up the other (*bangs head at the nearest wall*)
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Word count: 4631 (this part)
Rating: Hard R, I suppose, maybe more
Disclaimer: As much as I try to lure them with the promise of candy-floss, they still won't come to me - such an obnoxious lot of characters! - so I can't profit on them, even if I wanted to. *shrugs and forgets about it*

Father had come around by then, always the faithful Slytherin, flowing with the tide of inevitable, and smiled stiffly at the unwelcome guest he could no longer afford to ignore. A head taller than the rest, proud and absolutely gorgeous Ron Weasley slowly made his way towards them through the sea of people and Draco was struck breathless and almost dizzy with awe. He was sure Ron could not have looked more dashing at his own wedding. The silken red hair was caught in a neat plait and just a few fiery strands let loose, teasing down the beautiful long neck. Blue eyes shone with confidence and power and his broad shoulders were made for the elegant anthracite robes that were such an excellent fit that they looked as if they had been sewn on him. He was heart-stopping in his manly beauty and not only Draco noticed.

“Whoever is this stunningly gorgeous young man?” breathed widow Greengrass, the mother of the bride, none too discretely into Narcissa Malfoy’s ear without even bothering to mask her acute interest. Draco’s mother followed her gaze and smiled almost beatifically:

“Oh, that’s my son’s partner,” she said in a appropriately hushed down voice. “They do Ministry business together,” - the word “work” would never be acknowledged by Narcissa Malfoy – “I’m told he’s a brilliant strategist and very daring in his… business ventures… One of Arthur Weasley’s sons, you know the Deputy-Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley? A pureblood, of course… Very much married, I’m afraid and expecting his first-born shortly. Best friend of the Saviour himself, surely you’ve heard of him… Draco dear, would you care to make introductions?”

By that time Ron had successfully floated with the tide of people to the reception party made up of the groom, his parents and the bride’s mother – no bride at this point, the lovely Astoria was in the company of her sister getting ready for the biggest performance of her life. But the redhead didn’t care about any of them. He only managed to nod to Narcissa courteously and successfully ignore Lucius before his eyes locked on Draco’s and his soft lips dissolved in a sweet smile with just a hint of sadness.

“I’m here,” he said simply and Draco’s heart probably stopped. His brain surely did as it completely short-circuited and he couldn’t utter a word while staring into those soft-glowing blue eyes.

“Merlin,” blurted the mother of the bride, clearly awe-struck. “I dare say I wish I was 20 years younger, young man!” And only then Ron tore his eyes away from Draco, as if he finally realized there were other people present, and granted a still very much charming widow one of his full-on heart-crushing smiles.

“Thank you, Madam,” he said softly, not bothering to pretend the compliment was not meant for him; then proceeded to entirely ignore the protocol of introductions, because that was just the way he was. “Ron Weasley, completely charmed to meet you, of course. And you must be the bride’s sister, surely…” The naughty glimpse in his eyes told her that this was one faux pas made solely for the purpose of flattery, but she couldn’t help giggling like a teenager, much to the dismay of a seething Lucius and an alarmed looking Narcissa.

And the surge of jealousy and possessiveness that flushed over Draco was so powerful and unexpected that he could barely stop himself from launching forward and wrapping his arms around the redhead. This was his man! The old cow had no business being all doe-eyed around him! And motherfucking Weasley! How dare he flirt!? Now, here, when Draco was almost ready to jump him in front of the entire wedding party!? He was so going to hex him, he was going to…

He was only stopped from utterly embarrassing himself by the crystal chuckle of his mother’s voice and her casual calm words brought him back to his senses as well as it could be expected in the company of one Ron Weasley. Dear God, this man will be the death of him!

“Since my son seems to be taking his time coming up with proper introductions – and what other day should he be cut short of his wits, if not today! – perhaps it’s proper, darling, that you should have the honour?” And she looked at Lucius sweetly but with clear-as-knife “suck it up” look in her bright eyes and Ron could almost see the older man trying his best not to choke on his anger.

“No!” said Draco quickly. “Forgive me, I was… distracted. Weasley, you know my parents… and this lovely lady here is my future wife’s mother, Lady Artemis Greengrass. Lady Greengrass, my… partner, Ronald Weasley.”

What little ownership the word “partner” entailed, it was strangely comforting to the blond. Somehow this shy hint of connection between them was better, so much better than nothing, that he decided he could most probably go on. Until Ron slowly brought Lady Greengrass’ hand to his lips and kissed it softly. With his striking brilliant eyes locked on her face he said with a small tentative smile:

“Absolutely delighted to meet you, Madam.”

And Draco’s vision almost blurred from a sudden rush of blood through his veins.

As the breathless Lady Greengrass looked every bit ready to melt into a puddle, Ron let go of her hand politely and glanced as casually as he could at his lover, the innocent smile doing nothing to hide glint of mischief in his lovely eyes. Oh, the blasted redhead knew, he knew very wellwhat he was doing to him! Those incredible blue ponds shone provocatively and there was a subtle yet daring invitation in the gentle tilt of his head... and Draco knew, he just knew it must be obvious to the entire world that they were fucking.

And with that thought Draco Malfoy almost lost the thread of solid thought again. He knew he desperately needed to channel the conversation into safer waters, lest he’d break down and pounce upon him here and then. His bursting cock and crazy drunken heart could only take so much of Ron Weasley looking as if he just stepped out of a Milano fashion show, flirting with another just to make his juices boil with need.

“Where is your wife, Weasley?” he blurted without a thought to spare for anything else than how beautiful those elegant robes would look shredded and pooling on the floor at the feet of his bed.

“His wife is Hermione Granger-Weasley, surely you’ve heard of her,” whispered Narcissa discretely into the ear of excited widow Greengrass, providing a much needed cold shower. “If Lucius’ predictions are correct – and mind you, he’s almost always right – she’s the future Minister of Magic! That is one ambitious woman, I tell you. And smart!”

But Ron already replied curtly: “Hermione’s been ill disposed. Our baby is due in a month and she hasn’t been herself lately. She sends her sincere apologies,” he looked at Draco pointedly and the blond knew him so well by now that he could guess the rest: the redhead did not want her here, by his side, and that was that. Draco knew that Hermione, as ambitious as she was, would never pass up on the opportunity to meet all the European crème de la crème with unimaginable connections and influence that was going to be present at his wedding.

But unfortunately for her, she was married to a man that was the chess-master supreme: Ron simply knew how to pull the right strings to make things happen. Even if it meant spiking his heavily pregnant wife’s morning coffee with one of George’s most innocent concoctions and then subtly setting his over-protective mother on her with her “no stress for the baby” policy… And accidentally having her best dress ruined beyond repair on top of it. Whatever it took.

Ron was not sorry. He had long ago stopped feeling sorry for anyone caught between what Draco and himself held. His heart would have broken years ago if he had allowed himself to think about these things. All the lies to his wife, friends and family. A heart-broken Harry whose affection he desperately pretended not to notice for what it was. A scandal it would cause if what they had ever came to light. What they both stood to lose, if it did.

So he solved by simply not thinking about it. And he had no guilty conscience regarding the wedding. It was hardly even his place to mingle with these snotty people he had to pull his war-hero status and pureblood ancestry on to be tolerated, but at least he had a good reason. Draco asked it of him and it was lucky, really, that the blond did not realize how much he could have asked and Ron would not have denied him. And this day - Hermione had no business being here. This was hard enough without her astute eyes on the set. She would have noticed… fuck, they must have been blind like a bunch of cave bats in the afternoon sun, the lot of them, not to have noticed...

The way he devoured Draco with hungry eyes. The way Draco kept loosing the track of his words when he simply stared. The barely stoppable tide that was pulling them together, pulling them towards acknowledging each other for what they were. This was a road to destruction. And Ron had to stop it; he instinctively knew Draco never will. The blond didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be here, to do this, to give himself up. So he called Ron to witness his defeat, hoping, perhaps, he would put a hold on this travesty, stop it somehow. But Ron had no intention to.

Draco was a Malfoy, he didn’t know how to be anything else. And this was what Malfoys did: they married the right woman, threw obnoxiously luxurious parties, produced an heir…. and fucked their poor undeserving lovers in secret. No, Ron would never rob Draco of being a proper Malfoy, he had a distinctive feeling it would come back and haunt him if he tried. This was a price they were paying for those stolen hours spent in their little Thursday heaven. Ron had paid his dues, not it was Draco’s turn. So he had to put a lid on this boiling cauldron of emotion before they both got burned.

“I think it’s best for me to take my place,” he said quietly, ignoring the disappointed look on Madam Greengrass’ face. “I have been keeping you away from other guests for far too long and I apologize for that. I suppose I’m not used to such grand occasions. I will see you later, Malfoy,” he finally looked at Draco and suddenly his eyes shone with unfathomable sadness. “When I see you next, you’ll be a married man, so... do behave. Don’t do anything I would do,” he said with a small tired smile and that lame attempt at jesting broke Draco’s heart with an unexpected blow.

“Wait!” he said hastily with a voice so rough as if hasn’t been used in a while. But Ron already turned away with a gracious nod to the rest of the reception company “Madam Greengrass, Madam Malfoy” – again ignoring Lucius completely – and headed towards the servant that was pointing the guests to their respective seats. But Draco would not be stopped. Not now, not with his last chance to talk to the redhead as a free man about to melt away, not when it was all about to turn to ashes and nothing would ever be the same again.

“Wait,” he repeated and ignored a cautious angry “Draco!” his father hissed behind him when he dove into the crowd to seek him out. He heard an apologetic “Oh, leave him be, Lucius, it must be important, I’m sure he won’t be long” spoken in as light and conversational tone as Narcissa could manage, but he didn’t care anymore, he wouldn’t have cared if the whole fucking circus got cancelled at this point, he wanted to… no, he neededto talk to Ron. He caught up with him right before he took his designated seat, looking every bit flabbergasted at the position appointed in the first row, reserved for the closest relatives of both families.

“Ron!” Draco pulled on his sleeve, breathless from running, and saw the redhead turn to him abruptly, those blue eyes boring inside his with no mercy and reading him thoroughly in all but a moment.

“Draco… we can’t,” he whispered as a response to what he read in his eyes. But for once the blond would not be swayed.

“Twenty… meet me in twenty minutes in my dressing room,” Draco blurted. “It’s only a few of them left now, I shouldn’t be too long… please, Ron, I need it.”

“But it’s your wedding…”Ron helplessly tried to introduce some sense of reality between them, but it was all in vain, cause they never cared much for reality, they were too hooked on making their own illusions.

“They’re not likely to start without me, are they?!” hissed Draco and that was that. The wild look of a cornered animal in those silver orbs told the redhead everything he needed to know and he nodded quietly:

“Alright, then… I’ll be there… but just in case you come to your senses, I won’t take it against you if you’re not.”

“Oh, I’ll be there, I’ll fucking be there… “Draco whispered in a heated voice and “there’s nowhere in this planet I need to be more than alone with you” went unspoken not to scare the redhead away. But it was just as well. Ron knew. And a Gryffindor to the bone, he wasn’t backing away. So he simply smiled, a sad solitary smile that never reached his eyes, and turned away from his designated seat.

“This will have to wait, then,” he murmured softly and then looked at Draco from under his golden eyelashes. “Well –what are you waiting for, Malfoy? Your wedding is in an hour… and I was just promised some time with the groom…”

Draco needn’t be told twice. He snaked his way through the crowd and apologized profusely to the stormy looking Father, tight-lipped Mother and a rather confused looking Madam Greengrass:

“I’m terribly sorry, but this… it couldn’t wait. I won’t bother you with details, it’s all very boring and business-related and it most definitely does not belong into such a glorious day as this, but I might not have a chance and nor the inclination to speak to Weasley afterwards… and this was rather important.”

“Oh, I see… but of course,” said the mother of the bride graciously and decided that this was as good a chance as any to obtain additional information on the stunning but rather elusive redhead: “What business are you in with the charming Mr. Weasley, if you don’t mind sharing? Perhaps I’m wrong but he doesn’t strike me as the type that spends a lot of time stuck in the boring business meetings, he seems more like… an outdoor type,” she tried to politely brush against all that incredible muscle and impressive physique one could just feel radiating from underneath the perfectly tailored robes.

Draco saw the alarmed look in his father’s eyes and he was tempted… but he couldn’t afford to have his wrath upon him in moments like that, so he merely shrugged matter-of-factly: “You’re right, of course. We’re in the business of security. Highly prosperous field ever since… well, you know. Ron does the field-work and investigation and I work at the more… subtle aspects of the business.” He wasn’t lying, technically speaking, but from his words alone hardly anyone could fathom that they spent their days working as an Auror and a Healer. Father’s face softened visibly after that and Mother smiled brightly and it was only the longest fucking 20 minutes in his life keeping him away from seeking shelter in the arms of a man he came to crave so desperately.

And it didn’t help in the least that during the breaks between guests’ introductions he was plagued by ceaseless chatter and less-than-discrete questions by the clearly mesmerised Artemis Greengrass, who was anxious to know all about the mysterious Mr. Weasley: “Forgive me for being so intrusive, but… we’ve been abroad for such a long time and I find myself quite unacquainted with the latest happenings and important individuals. Your mother suggested that your lovely partner is quite an important persona –where did you two meet?” and “Where does he get his clothes tailored, I dare say they fit him so…” and even “Are you acquainted with his wife? She must be a remarkable woman to have secured a husband like that!”… And on and on to what felt like no end. With that at hand, 20 minutes seemed more like 20 hours and by the time it was over, Draco was all but ready to declare himself unfit to proceed with the wedding.

Finally, finally the last of the guests had been introduced and Draco couldn’t bear to think the whole tiresome procedure would be repeated once more after the wedding when he has to stand with his young wife by his side, gracefully accepting the congratulations, the blessings and the wedding gifts with a fake smile plastered to his face. With all the superfluous traditions and protocol the purebloods’ weddings were murder as it was and this one so much more so, because it was his own - and there was no way he could escape any tiresome over-orchestrated aspect of it.

But he would not think of it right now. Right now, he had somewhere to be. He offered a lame but believable excuse of needing to “freshen up” and judging by the enthusiasm it was it accepted with, the rest of the reception party could also use a moment to themselves. With a whispered“Don’t be too long, darling!” and a perfunctory kiss on the cheek by his mother, Draco finally fled what felt like the longest morning of his life.

As soon as he opened the door to his dressing room he was swept into a warm tight embrace and all the depressive weight he’s been carrying around him the whole day dissipated into thin air when he wrapped his arms around the strong embrace smelling of comfort and love - and held on for dear life. For once Draco Malfoy didn’t have it in him to pretend he didn’t need this. He felt as if he was sinking rapidly and his only life-line was the set of powerful arms, pressing him deeply into the personal space of the man who was here to save his sanity.

“Are you OK, babe?” he heard him whisper and when he felt a set of warm lips press softly against his temples he closed his eyes and wanted to tell him that - no, he was not OK, he was never going to be OK, because he was about to take a step that will launch him down the cliff straight into the dark pit of life his parents wanted for him and that he was frightened and hating every minute of it... but that he would take this same step gladly with Ron by his side, fuck it - he would have taken a leap to jump off that very same cliff holding his hand...- but the list of things he would never be able to tell him was too damn long and mere words just didn’t work that well between them... But something else did and Draco came here to communicate his frustration and his feeling of powerlessness and regret to the man his heart chose without his consent - the only way he knew how.

So he leaned his face towards him and captured those alluring lips with his own and let himself fall apart; allowed himself to disintegrate in their absolving softness, in their charging warmth, in their unabashed passion that always wound itself around him like a shield made of love and devotion and courage and all things Ron. He could be everything he ever wanted to be with Ron by his side; he could do everything that needed to be done if only he could feel his immense power moving inside him once more, filling him up impossibly, sharing that unfathomable bond that won’t and can’t ever break under anything life had in store for them. Fuck the marriage his parents imposed upon him, fuck the life that was charted for him since his birth – this was the only thing that mattered, that wonderfully tall, strong man he was able to call his own, if only in his heart, and who always seemed to find him when he needed him the most.

“Take me… save me… Ron,” he whispered and his words met no resistance, just a hollow pained moan that came from the tortured depths of a man, whose only crime was the bottomless, unconditional love he held for Draco. And when the hungry mouth devoured him and the smart fingers worked beautifully to grant him his much needed release, Draco was ready for him. He was ready to pay him for his devotion, for his hurt, for everything he had ever received voluntarily and stolen by force from this man who held his most prized possession, his heart – and wasn’t ever allowed to know it.

“Draco… beautiful…” Ron was dazed, crazy with the overwhelming sense of possessiveness, feeling as if he was standing bare-feet on the sharp shreds of his broken heart, because it hurt so damn much and his tears were somewhere behind the corner at all times – and yet the broken young man clinging to him so desperately made it all worth his while. That soft infernal mouth that was going to be his doom begged for more and when he was ready to go down on his knees for him, to at least do as little damage as possible, the blond all but knocked him against the wall and whispered: “No… not this time… all the way… I want it all the way… need to feel you… feel you inside… the whole time… through this whole…damn… fucking… meaningless ceremony… fill me up with your come, Ron, I need some of you with me in front of that altar… at least give me that.”

And Ron turned him around ferociously, pushed him against the wall with force and barely managed to get his priceless impeccable wedding robes out of the way before he impaled him on his hard leaking cock, no preparations, none needed, none required. On the verge of tears and at the same time filled up to the brim with spite and hatred for the life that played with them so cruelly, he fucked him hard, numb with overwhelming love and misery because he had no words for how he felt. In a dressing room, just the thickness of a wall away from the wedding that was supposed to take away all his dreams, he was buried up to his balls into the very man he was supposed to be losing, fucking him with brutal angry shoves into oblivion, making him cry and beg for more with passion, eagerness and abandon as if there was no wedding to attend, no sacred bonds to make, none to break.

And if he redhead didn’t have the presence of mind to throw some privacy charms around the dressing room before Draco’s arrival, the blond would have betrayed them inevitably: not for a moment did he try to contain the hot loud desperate sounds of need and desire and love he only ever had the heart to say in those moments. It was as if he didn’t care if they got found out and in fact, he didn’t. He didn’t want this in the first place - didn’t want this fucking wedding to that shallow porcelain stranger that knew none of him and was not interested; she was never going to be enough no matter how many papers he signed and how many children he sired.

What he wanted was his Ron, his passionate, wonderfully warm and incredibly sexy ginger that only had to look at him with smiling blue eyes and had Draco’s brain melting and his cock filling with need and his heart bursting with possessive hungry love. But he couldn’t have him. So he didn’t care. If they got found out, so be it. If he was meant to go through with this travesty, he would. Nothing mattered if he couldn’t have Ron. And when he was finally pushed to the brink of coming, just a stretch, just a shove from the monstrous climax that was building from the first time he set eyes on him this morning, Draco Malfoy pulled at the thin silver necklace Ron had on him at all times with brutal force and removed the ring from it with one liquid motion. Before the redhead realized what he was doing, he pushed it on his finger and whispered in a breathless savage voice: “With his ring… I thee wed… my love…”

And he came hard to the explosion of brilliant wonder in those worshiped blue eyes and a forced cry “Draco… don’t...”, just a moment before the sculpted narrow hips he was riding buckled involuntarily and the whole massive body of the redhead shuddered with the force of his release.

Ron was lost. He knew he shouldn’t be here, he knew it was going to be a disaster, that the whole idea was insane and preposterous and downright unhealthy; he knew he should be the pillar of sanity to the wild creature shivering in a post-coital bliss inside his arms, clinging to him so desperately, staring at him with devotion in those silver eyes that clearly testified just how much Draco Malfoy has gone off the track... but he couldn’t do it. His eyes drank in the beloved face, the soft mouth panting warm breath and all he could think of was: God, dear God, give us just a moment longer... just a moment, before it’s all lost.

Finally Draco launched himself at his mouth as if he could shut up the thoughts he felt fluttering in Ron’s head and he there’s no saying for how much longer they would have gotten lost in each other if it wasn’t for the soft rap on the door of the dressing room and the voice of Narcissa Malfoy inquiring if she was allowed to enter.

“Just... I need a moment, Mother, I’ll be right out,” shouted Draco in a voice that was so calm that Ron would never have believed it belongs to the creature planting soft desperate kisses of goodbye and regret and abandon all over his face. “Just a moment,” he whispered, mirroring Ron’s thoughts and then he stilled in his arms and closed his eyes.

“Don’t forget... be there,” he whispered, exhaled what was left of his misery and inhaled the magic he felt radiating from the warm body of his lover, the strength he needed to go through the rest of this vicious day. When he opened his eyes again, Ron’s Draco was locked somewhere safely behind hard grey look and the son of Lucius Malfoy took his place. A few charms later no one would have guessed Draco Malfoy was just fucked out of his wits and was leaving his most prized possession behind in a humble dressing room. He opened the door, calm, composed, impeccable, as if cast in stone and offered an arm to his mother to hold on to: “Shall we?”

But Narcissa Malfoy didn’t move.

~ End of Part 11/1 ~

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
		1	2	3	4	5
6	7	8	9	10	11	12
13	14	15	16	17	18	19
20	21	22	23	24	25	26
27	28	29	30	31

my_thestral

◾ Fic: Art of denial (Part 11/1)

Fic: Art of denial (Part 11/1)

Profile

August 2017

Most Popular Tags

Expand Cut Tags

Style Credit