my_thestral | Fic: Art of denial (Part 12)

Author's note: Well, what can I say in my defence about shredding the chapters so - originally the chapters in their MS Word form were just endless and there's no way I could make them fit into LJ. Plus it gives me more time to write if I post a short bit every day, just buying time, I guess... :)
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Word count: 3785 (this part)
Rating: PG-13, I suppose ?
Disclaimer: I feel like Gollum, rolling the characters in my hands "My precious!" - except they could never be mine and rightfully so. Not making any money, how could I, with other people's goods? :)

Ron stared at Draco in disbelief and barely able to breathe. He wouldn’t… would he? But the sad determined smile and the stubborn press of his lips told everything Ron needed to know. “I can’t marry anyone else…” he had told him, but he didn’t think he meant it; it was just pillow talk, wasn’t it, just something to console a broken heart with... Merlin, did Draco even know what he was doing?! The way he had pushed the ring onto Ron’s finger with wild determined look on his face; the way he planned this, seating him where he could see him, waiting for the bride’s arrival to secretly remove his own ring, for Ron to see... he must have known, then.

Some distant idea of what was going on was nudging at Ron’s brain, but he couldn’t quite remember... It was a story he had heard as a child, one of the old folklores passed among the pureblood families by the word of mouth... something about bonding of ill-fated lovers for life and beyond, about magic flowing freely through one soul in two bodies... but he couldn’t recall the details and he doubted it would make any difference if he did. He had given that ring to Draco and he knew what he was doing at the time. If Draco wanted to bond them together... Ron wasn’t going to oppose, he wasn’t going to run. Whatever the blond Slytherin was up to, Ron knew he wanted a part of it, his heart recognised it beyond doubt. He was in this, whatever this was, with Draco, for Draco and he wasn’t backing off.

As if in a haze he watched the beautiful girl joy the tall elegant young man at the altar and beam at him with all the bliss of a bride on her most important day. And he saw Draco nod at her solemnly and give a small smile as if he was ready to acknowledge her eagerness and her beauty, though they did not touch him in any way. And his eyes strayed back towards Ron instead. The old Wizengamot official rambled on and Draco stared past his bride, seemingly into the empty air behind her back, but his eyes never left Ron’s face as if he was afraid something was going to give if he broke the contact.

And inevitably the moment came to exchange the rings. Lucius brought forward the intricately ornamented mother-of-pearl box most proudly, but Draco opened it with a blank face and removed the beautifully adorned platinum rings – Malfoys thought gold looked cheap - without even blinking. When they disappeared inside of his fist Ron knew without looking what was going to happen. He felt dizzy and disoriented and the fingers of his hand pressed his own ring so deeply into the flesh it hurt. He needed all the support he could get to make it through the following few minutes with his sanity intact.

And for once Draco’s eyes were on his bride when he produced the richly ornamented platinum band from the shelter of his hand and he spoke calmly and clearly:

“I offer this ring to you as a symbol of my commitment to honour and respect you.”

And not a word more was spoken when he slid the ring on her finger. No love was mentioned, no lies were told. And Ron saw it from the shock, registering on the bride’s face, that this was far from expected.

But Draco would not be swayed. With a stone expression on his face he opened the palm of his hand and there was only one ring glowing softly in the middle of it. For a moment bride’s head shot upwards in evident surprise, but Draco simply nodded encouragingly and offered a small reassuring smile – and she really had no choice.

From where the guests were seated, no one could tell this was not the twin of the ring adorning her finger, but it was the only ring she had, so she took it with a shaky hand and in that moment Draco’s eyes shot past her and landed on Ron’s face. The bride’s voice was barely audible when she spoke the words of tradition and slowly pushed the ring on Draco’s finger:

“With all I am and all I have, I honor you, with this ring I thee wed...”

Draco’s mouth moved silently together with her words... and so did Ron’s. He didn’t even know where the words came from, but somehow he knew them and he was saying them, one by one, as if in a trance. As soon as the words were spoken and the ring, Ron’s ring, slid on its rightful place on Draco’s finger, the powerful surge of old magic ran through Ron’s body with such magnitude, the redhead barely held back a cry. He saw a shiver pass Draco’s posture and he knew he felt it as well. The bond between them suddenly felt as real and as solid as if they were indeed bound together with ties they could no longer break. And for the first time, Draco smiled. A bright happy smile that lit his face from within and brought tears to Ron’s eyes and lightened the expression on the flabbergasted bride’s face, when he finally looked at her.

He kissed her, for real, and Ron felt his every emotion as if it was his own: elation and gratitude and genuine happiness. She helped him, though unaware, and it was only proper. Against the applause and the few solitary catcalls from the crowd the bride flashed a properly embarrassed smile and glowed in all her previous joy: perhaps it did not all go according to plan, but she got married into the most prosperous wizarding family of England and with her husband’s devotion carefully laid out for the public to see, she could now begin to count her blessings.

Ron collapsed back into his chair and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, pressing the palms of his hands so deeply into his eye sockets it hurt. He was on the verge of tears and he was fighting an impossible fight to hold on to his crumbling composure under a flood of contradicting feelings. Love, sadness, jealousy and more possessive hungry love mingled inside him and a desire to elbow his way through the crowd to reach Draco, just grab him by the front of his robes and kiss him stupid for all the world to see was barely kept under his control.

“God...” he exhaled quietly. The silent drama had left him so emotionally drained he felt dangerously close to passing out. This blasted day… it was all too much… so much was given, so much taken away. He let his arms collapse into his lap and he watched his hands, his eyes drawn like a magnet to the platinum lion-and-serpent ring that seemed to be glowing softly, if only for him to see. His instinct was to hold it, protect it, hide it; to squeeze it tightly to the point of pain because right now it felt as if he was merely held together by its warm lustre. And then the ice cold hand touched him and found the stone pale face of Narcissa Malfoy staring down at him.

“A word, if you please,” she said in a barely audible voice and Ron got up and followed her, because really – what choice did he have?

Unsurprisingly, she took him to Draco’s dressing room, the island of peace in the commotion of the wedding, the very place where dreams were broken and made. The residual charge of their combined magic was still lingering in the air as if small sparks of love and hope floated against the dark background of defeat.

She turned to him and spoke the irrefutable truth: “You are bonded to my son.”

And Ron could find no reason to lie to her about it. She probably knew more about these things than he did. So he simply nodded: “Yes… yes I am, I suppose.”

Narcissa Malfoy simply continued to stare at him as if she was taking his measure and she finally tilted her head: “For how long?”

Ron understood the question the way it was meant and he answered truthfully: “Six years… or so. Six and a half, almost. You needn’t worry,” he added quickly. “Nobody knows, we were... we are very discrete. Draco is most... dedicated and thorough when it comes to protecting the reputation of his family.”

A small hint of bitterness in his voice did not escape the avid senses of Narcissa Malfoy, but before she could react, another thought seemed to have entered his head and his demeanour changed completely as he pulled himself up to his full height.

“But if you’re here to put an end to it, I suggest you think again,” he said with a note of warning in his deep voice. “I... we have sacrificed nearly everything to be with each other and I’m not giving him up, not until he asks it of me!” he said with defiance. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it back and forth, I almost broke my blasted worthless brain over it and I still can’t fathom why things are the way they are between us – but I can’t change it. I won’t. Not for you, not for anyone else. Only if he asks it of me.”

“I know...” His voice wandered away as if he wasn’t sure how to explain this to her, how to make her understand how important this was. “I know we’re bad for each other,” he finally admitted. “I know all those things you want to tell me, how unworthy of him I am, how inappropriate for a pureblood I’m behaving, how incomprehensible you find it, that he should be involved with me of all people... no wealth to speak of, no manners, no sophistication, a man... a married man. But it doesn’t matter, nothing does. Because when I’m with him, I’m alive. Here, inside, in my heart, I come to life with him around me. He completes me, he provokes me, he makes me smile and laugh like no other, he makes me feel like I’m a million galleons worth just by looking at me. I love your son, Madam Malfoy. Don’t ruin it for us. It’s only once a week...”

He stopped abruptly and turned away from her as if he honestly believed she held the power to come between them and he had to stop himself from begging her to let them keep what little they could have. And his head shot towards her in surprise when he heard her sharp crystal laughter. It was cut off as unexpectedly as it began.

“How much do you know about what happened here today?” Narcissa Malfoy asked in her usual impassive voice, staring at him through the wall of cold eyes he could not decipher. “Do you know anything about the ritual my son performed?”

“Not much,” admitted Ron. “I only remember hearing about it at my mother’s knee. I thought it was just a piece of purebloods’ folklore, the stuff the legends are made off, I never thought I would see it carried out… let alone take part in it... I... but it is real, isn’t it? I felt it... I felt is so strongly...”

“Of course it’s real!” interrupted Narcissa Malfoy with a voice so sharp it could shred ice. “It is the most real, the most powerful magic you will ever encounter in your lifetime!”

When she saw him go pale, her voice turned just a shade softer and she spoke more calmly:

“It is an ancient ritual, from the times of pagan gods when pure magic roamed the Earth untamed, free of bonds of churches and beliefs. If you searched far and wide there wouldn’t be a book in public access on it and as far as I know the single written copy of the spell is in the Manor’s library.”

She saw his eyes go wide and there was a sudden tension in his voice when he asked hastily:

“Why? Is it dangerous, then? Will Draco be harmed? Will...”

“No!” she cut through his words again because she saw he was quickly losing his composure. “No,” she repeated more calmly and added, not unkindly, after a short pause. “And I thank you for thinking of my son, before you thought of yourself. I understand, as much as one rationally could, why he chose you, only a fool would turn away such loyalty. But no, he will not be harmed and neither will you, not as such. But you need to understand it, if you wish to continue living your life as you know it. This spell... it is complicated.

First of all, it only works for those of pure blood, no person with any non-magical ancestry can be bonded like this, the magic required for it to work, must be pure. I am not trying to say that the magic of those with non-magical origins is... worse than that of us, the purebloods, I am, after all, not my deluded husband,” she said adamantly and looked him straight in the eye. And just like that, Ron believed her. “However, their magic has... foreign elements, which do not work that well with this ancient spell. I believe they cannot even try – I can only speak of the ritual to you because you are a pureblood yourself, if I tried explaining it to a person with... mixed origin, I wouldn’t be able to remember a thing about it. It is protected that way. Now to the spell...”

She paused a little and tried to take a measure of him. How will he take it? She knew next to nothing of him. She knew his parents in her time – his fierce mother, Molly, who robbed her - and saved her - from Bella, her sister-gone-insane, and his father, the resolute quiet and rather brilliant Arthur her husband loved to hate. But there had to be something about this boy of theirs. The golden-coloured magic he radiated made her feel at ease, at peace even and what really mattered - he already proved to her that he had her son’s best interest at heart. So what she was doing had to be right.

“This ritual was meant for those who never meant to part, not even in death. It is the only of its kind and as such simply called “the bonding”. It cannot be undone. It allows the magic to flow through the purebloods involved in it with no boundaries, essentially making them two bodies sharing one soul. And it can only be performed if they agree to it out of their own free will. Once it has been performed, they could continue to live their lives apart and yet never be alone again; they could feel the other person’s pain and happiness and their magic could join into one to make a force of unfathomable power. I could not separate you from my son, Mr. Weasley, if I wanted to, not anymore. But of course, there is a catch: there can be no one person carrying such gift - when one perishes, so will the other. So you see, Mr. Weasley, all of the sudden your life is of utmost importance to me. If you lose it, I will lose Draco.”

As Ron stared at her with gapping mouth, she allowed a small smile to pass her lips: “I see this comes as a surprise to you. My son should be scolded for not asking your permission before he performed the spell, but you must have agreed to it on some level, otherwise it would never have worked and you said it yourself – you felt it. But I regret you were not given a chance to acquaint yourself with a full list of its implications and perhaps if you have given it proper consideration –“

“No!” said Ron quickly, firmly as if he only woke up from the reverie. “No, you’re wrong. This wasn’t Draco’s doing, it was my own. I gave him those rings, I couldn’t live with the thought I might be losing him, so I had them made and I gave them to him with a promise to make him mine one day. He put this one on my finger earlier in the day, right before the wedding and I’m absolutely sure he got married with the other one.

He’s... it is true, he did not ask my permission, but only because he knew I’d give one gladly. There’s nothing to be sorry about, he’s done nothing wrong. I want this. I want to be tied to him. Like this. Like this and in any other way if I could have it. But I never asked it of him, because if I made him choose, perhaps he would not have chosen me and I couldn’t have that. Besides, it would be an awfully selfish thing to do. It could ruin you all, your house, your name... The Blacks are already lost to the world, and to lose the Malfoys... this was never an option.”

She couldn’t help but to admire the child-like sincerity that poured from those impossibly blue eyes. This. It must have been this uncorrupted soul of his, staring at the world from the bottom of those clear eyes, that captivated Draco and bewitched him so. She felt its tremendous pull herself. But Ron already continued, this time with an undeniable undertone of sadness in his voice:

“Draco has his duties and a life away from me, I’ve always known that. Merlin knows I wish it was different, that I would be able to call him my own in front of the whole world one day – but if I can’t have that, this will do. This is so much better than nothing, so much better, you have no idea... This is better than marriage, it means everything. He never says it, you know, those things that lovers say to each other, not if he can help it, they only pour out of him when he can’t stop himself – but he chose me to be this, to be his chosen one and now he never needs to say another thing again. Because I will know anyway. I can feel it.”

And he looked at her with a shy smile playing on his lips and she couldn’t help but wonder at his courage, at his indestructible trust in her son, at hope he had no foundation for, permeating his every word. Yes, she could tell very well now, why Draco had picked him: this love, this hope, thislight he carried around with him made him about as precious as they came. She felt a rare moment of weakness to tell him, how precious she found him, but she stalled, knowing she might regret it afterwards – after all Malfoys didn’t trust words as much as they did actions….

But her musings were interrupted by his quiet:

“Do you think he knows? Does he know what he’s done, the full extent of it? Do you think he would have done it if he knew… if he really knew? To be tied to me - to me, of all people! - for life…”

This could not be tolerated.

“Don’t you dare sell yourself short again, Mr. Weasley!” she all but barked and when she caught the genuine shock in his eyes at this unexpected frontal attack, she added on a softer note: “Ronald… my son would never have picked you if he thought you were anything but perfect for him. He was like that as a child already. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle on his robes – perfection, that’s what he’s after. Some of it, perhaps, is Lucius’s drill, but he was born with this stubborn streak in him to have the best of all. But I dare say he found it in you, why else would he cling to you so determinately? Frankly, I don’t know if he is fully aware what he’s done. Perhaps,” she shrugged. “My son sometimes surprises me when I least expect it. Perhaps he isn’t. I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. I, for myself, know I have no intention of mentioning this conversation to him and perhaps it would be wise if you didn’t either. It would… upset him to know I’ve been talking to you behind his back,”

“No, of course… I will respect your wish,” Ron agreed eagerly, clearly in no way interested in explaining Draco he’s been discussing their relationship with his mother of all people! “This… what you told me, will stay between us. And I thank you,” he added after a short consideration. “I suppose you didn’t need to tell me all that and I really appreciate that you bothered. I don’t think I would ever be seeing much of you, Madam, but for all it’s worth – I wouldn’t mind to know you better. I can see who Draco got his strength - and whatever else is good in him - from.”

This was about as nice a compliment she was ever going to get… from a Gryffindor. So she straightened her elegant posture up and smiled at him kindly.

“I must say that you took this very well, Mr. Weasley. I shouldn’t be keeping you from the wedding reception much longer, but please accept this piece of motherly advice before we part: take good care of yourself, because my son will be made miserable if you don’t. And another thing you should take to heart: my son is Lucius’s child, he is sometimes... difficult. But I have never known him to stop caring about someone he falls for and for you... he has it bad. I’m his mother, I know him, and I dare call what he feels for you “fatal” in more ways than one.”

She smiled; a genuine full-fledged smile she hasn’t flashed in years appeared at the sight of his awed flabbergasted face, and right before exiting the room she turned around on a whim and said in a voice no one would have attributed to the ice queen known as Narcissa Malfoy, for it was filled with dark liquid passion:

“Show him love, Ronald!”

And as he continued to stare into an empty space left behind her, he realized the most unlikely person just gave him the strength and hope he needed to get through the rest of this impossible day. "Show him love," she had said and Ron thought defiantly, fuck it, the day was still young, he meant to do just that.