my_thestral ◾ ◾ Fic: Art of denial (Part 13/1)

Author's note: Well, well, I've been busy cross-posting to AO3, haven't I? ;) Just a bit more of this chapter today and tomorrow and... then I'm back to writing Choices - I need to slowly wrap up that one, it's longer in the making than the George Martin's books! :P I only wish I had his quality (insert sad sigh at will). Update: of course I had to break it up into another million pieces - what do you mean, "post too large" LJ?!
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Word count: 3514 (this part)
Rating: R? Erm... or not.
Disclaimer: No characters, no money, what do I have to show for myself? Oh, yeah, a hefty load of imagination, in the company of appallingly poor writing implementation. :)

Everything hurt. Every bloody muscle in Draco Malfoy’s body was cramped, his face was stiff from a perpetual fake smile, his robes seemed to weigh more than a hippogriff pregnant with triplets and still he could see no end to this blasted day. Oh, how he longed for a nice warm bath where he could lean his head back, just close his eyes and let go. Right now he’d settle for sitting down. Next to him Astoria seemed inexhaustible, receiving compliments, dishing out a million smiles, exchanging pleasantries and best wishes and accepting wedding presents with flawless grace and a glowing smile that seemed to have been etched into her young pretty face. His fatigue must have been showing, because every once in a while she would touch his arm and inquired something to the extent of “Everything all right, darling?”- To which he would inevitably reply with a smooth practised: “Of course it is, darling, let’s carry on, shall we?”

And all this time his mind has been wondering to one person, who had yet to appear before them. His eyes searched the crowd every time there was a short gap in the endless flaw of visitors, but in a myriad of people everything seemed grey and all faces blended into one. Where was Ron? He hasn’t managed to talk to him since the ceremony; not a single word, not a glance was exchanged; in fact, he seemed to have vanished completely. The very thought depressed Draco. He wanted to be able to talk to him, to see him, to draw his strength from him, perhaps to explain – because there was no way to misinterpret the look of shock in the beloved face as soon as their bonding was complete. He must have had questions; surely, he wouldn’t be mad at him…. Or would he?

Draco didn’t want to allow his mind another step into that direction. The very thought was unbearable. Could Ron be angry because of what he had done? Could it be, that… perhaps…. oh, sweet Merlin let not that be it, but… could it be that he didn’t want it?! Draco’s hands began to shake at the very thought of the possibility and his eyes picked up searching the crowd with renewed vigour. He could not have gone home yet, could he? Obviously, Weasel was a berk, but even he was not that much of a troll to leave the wedding he was invited to without a proper goodbye to the host!

In the end he had felt him before he saw him. It felt as if suddenly a warm cloud of magic danced closer and wrapped itself around Draco in all of its golden glory. He didn’t know if anyone else could see its colour, but it didn’t really matter - there was magical folk a-plenty around and anyone could have done that. Except it wasn’t anyone. It was him, at long last, and Draco instantly felt better. As it was, it became obvious he had been searching the crowd in vain because the warm deep voice, that got his knees shaking in a desperate desire to launch into a warm embrace and hide from the world, came from behind him.

“Malfoy, haven’t you got enough? Did you really have to get married to get your hands on more wealth? Honestly, man, your greed will be the end of you. Or, perhaps… was it to get your hands on this lovely treasure by your side? In that case, you’re more than forgiven, just look at her!”

And all of the sudden he was there and the weight of the day seemed to have been lifted from Draco’s shoulders in an instant. For the first time since the ceremony the blond flashed a genuine smile.

Astoria threw a surprised glance in her husband’s direction – even to her it was obvious that whoever the guest was, he had an impact on him no one else did. But once she caught a sight of the redhead, she gasped unexpectedly and blurted with no reservations:

“Sweet Merlin, you’re Ron Weasley!”

The redhead merely raised an eyebrow in obvious surprise and looked at Draco in mocked indignation:

“Malfoy! Take back whatever you told your wife about me! Sweet lady, do not believe a word of what he said. Your husband is a lying scoundrel of the worst kind and of course I wouldn’t have done any of the things he accused me of, not in my dreams!”

As Draco’s shoulders began to shake with laughter that boarded on hysterics of a very tired man, the bride blushed profusely and stammered:

“Oh, no, you misunderstand me… It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Draco. In fact, I’m pretty sure he never mentioned knowing you. It’s just… When I lived abroad with my mother, I used to read all the English wizarding publications I could get my hands on and they did have an awful lot of pieces on you and what you and your friends have done and… oh, my, this is so embarrassing… I believe I had the worst crush on you in my teens!”

This time Draco could not help it, he knocked his head back and all but roared in laughter – certainly loud enough to have quite a few heads turning... But this was too precious! Blimey, perhaps they could make “loving Ron Weasley” a family enterprise… First her mother and now his wife! And that’s before he was even considered himself! But for some reason, he felt none of the usual jealousy, perhaps because he could acutely feel Ron’s confusion and embarrassment and because his wife – of all people! - just took care of the most entertaining moment of this tiresome event.

He looked at her, what felt for the first time properly, and had to admit, he could have done a lot worse when it came to a wife. Young and pretty and well versed in the pureblood traditions, she was clearly quite unspoiled and not without a sense of humour and a hint of intellect. Count it on his mother she wouldn’t have picked someone entirely beneath him in these matters. As a wife, Astoria Greengrass – Malfoy, of today – will do. But being everything and more one could have expected of his wife, told him even more how different and special it was what he felt for Ron.

He looked at him, once again, Weasley-red and on the verge of laughter, and more than ever felt like snogging him. Perhaps his life next to Astoria will not be unbearable, but it was not what he wanted. If Ron was to look him in the eye at that moment and asked him to take his hand, Draco would have done it. His wedding day or not, he would have. That’s how crazy about him he’d become.

But Ron didn’t chance a look in his direction lest he lost what was left of his composure. He covered his embarrassment by a short cough and said courtly:

“You flatter me, Madam! I’m sure our encounter will prove to be a most efficient cure to your misplaced affection... Though," he smiled with a naughty spark in his brilliant blue eyes, "I must say, this is a very wise strategy on your part – I have never known a man who would not react to a healthy bit of jealousy with a fair measure of possessiveness! I can almost hear your husband here contemplating many a-ways for my painful demise! Well done, Madam, I’m sure you would have made a great Slytherin have you been lucky enough to have attended Hogwarts!”

His eyes glowed as blue as flames with laughter and mischief and all the jealousy that was missing when Astoria admitted her crush hit Draco with a vengeance; more so when his wife giggled like a schoolgirl and covered her mouth with the palm of her hand as if she was aware she was behaving most unbecomingly, but couldn’t help herself. Yeah, the Weasley effect was clearly a factor to be considered with the Greengrass women…

But Ron finally glanced at him and a small provoking smile in the corner of his soft mouth left Draco breathless and with impossibly tightening pants… Bloody Weasel, count it on him to give him a hard-on with nothing but a smile… And it did nothing for Draco’s rapidly failing composure to have Ron unexpectedly take his hand and hold it in the huge palm of his hand, the thumb imperceptibly and gently caressing the pads of his fingers until he was almost swooning. Deliberately Ron looked at Astoria instead and said simply:

“As habit would have it, I have something for you Madam, for both of you. I’m sure you know our traditions don’t permit a man to give a present to a married woman, so please allow me to give both your presents to your husband instead and have him share yours with you.”

With these words he took two small packages out of his pocket and turned Draco’s palm upwards to put it in.

“You need to engorge it,” he explained. “There was no way I could have transported it here otherwise.”

The smaller, elegantly wrapped package had her name on it and when she opened it, she gasped in surprise. It contained a necklace, clearly ancient and even more obviously, priceless. Pearls, intricately intertwined with sapphires, shone beautifully from the black velvet background and her fingers shook when she touched it. But her breathless “Oh, this is perfect!” was cut off by a sudden sharp intake of air:

“Where did you get this!? This was my mother’s!”

Draco stared at Ron incredulously and the redhead gave the tiniest of smiles:

“So it was. And that’s why I’m returning it to you. It is your heirloom, it is only right. Your parents, Malfoy, have reported a lot of things missing after the war and this necklace was one of them. It has been confiscated recently in one of the raids and put on the Ministry auction with profits intended for the War orphans’ fund. You wouldn’t believe what treasures are sold there for all but a handful of knuts because it is in someone’s interest that not many people know about these auctions! But not this necklace.

I am not a rich man, I never was, and before I got there this item had already reached the price I could never afford to pay– a number of people was clearly aware of its value and were bidding for it tooth-and-nail. So I did the only thing that was left for me to do: I pulled my war-hero status and had it removed from the auction as a personal favour. As it is, I now owe my best friend a monthly-pay worth of drinks, but I could not think of a better present for you, Madam.”

Astoria was clearly struck and not only by the necklace:

“Oh, but it is beautiful! Though I wish you didn’t have to go through such trouble to get it, I can’t thank you enough to have bothered! I’m sure my mother-in-law will be ecstatic to have it back in the family!”

“Indeed,” murmured Draco. The necklace was one of the few things that still tied Narcissa to the all but extinct family of Black and Ron could not have picked a more appropriate present.

But it was all forgotten when he felt the brilliant blue flames on him at long last.

“Your present is a tad more… personal,” Ron said softly. “The knowledge to make this is our family heirloom and it took me a week of my mother’s scolding and my father’s scary attempts at mechanics to finally get it right.”

Draco opened a rather large box and stared at it with no comprehension. It was a clock. Nicely laid back against the background of white silk, it was just like the one that hung in the Burrow, except this one had a beautiful black-and-white marble exterior that by far surpassed the original Ron’s family had at home. But essentially, it was the same. “Home” has been replaced by “The Manor” and “Work” became “Ministry” and other slight changes have been introduced, but for all intents and purposes it served the same thing. And for now it had two pointers with the names of Astoria and Draco on it and the third pointer was blank.

“For your child,” the redhead explained quietly at the questioning look from Draco. “So you don’t ever have to worry.”

Draco knew the gift was priceless, but the words to thank him somehow got stuck in his throat. All he desperately wanted was to kiss him and tell him to stop making him fall in love with him with every fucking thing he did, because his heart wasn’t taking it so well. Ron frowned a little in the silence that ensued, forever insecure about what he had to give and after a long moment he blushed and his eyes fell to the floor.

And Draco might have gone through with the oblivious hug and the snogging and fuck all, just to tell him how little he had to worry about and that this was a perfect present, really, and that anything would have been a perfect present from him as long as he was here for Draco, and this one above all - but the situation was promptly saved by the bride who took the precious gift in her arms, though she could barely support it, and looked at Ron with sincere gratitude:

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley. I think of all people here you have put the most thought and consideration into your presents. This one will make us a proper family. I can’t thank you enough.”

Now and only now did Draco realize with what a heavy step Ron walked over his own heart to give him that. Like Astoria cleverly pointed out, this clock defined them as a family, told him and her and the world that they are one, together with their unborn child. It said clearly where Draco belonged in the eyes of the world. And his first instinct was to give it back. To push it away and told him he didn’t want it and asked him to at least label the pointers differently to tell the world the real story. But he couldn’t do it.

Not only did Astoria all but kidnap the clock and stared at it with child-like awe, showering Ron with a million and one question about it, also Ron’s eyes, who casually glanced towards him every once in a while when his wife wasn’t looking, spoke loud and clear of why he’s done it: this is what they were really paying for with their secrecy, their once-a-week-only meetings, their neglected, humiliated heavily-shrouded love they never openly talked about. This. His chance to have a family, to keep up the Malfoy name; to be in the eyes of the world what he was meant to be.

And he felt like crying and laughing and shaking the stupid world by the collar of its shirt and shouting the truth at it. But then it all would have been in vain, for nothing, worthless. All their attempts to keep their relationship private could have been ruined if Draco spoke and with it the struggle to give the world and the Malfoy family what was theirs. And Draco was tempted. God, was he ever so tempted.

“Put your name on it. Put your fucking name on it, Ron, cause it’s the only name I’ll ever care about. Put it on and tell her, tell them, tell everyone, who we are, what you are to me.” That and more was at the tip of his tongue - and his exhausted mind would have let him slip, if it wasn’t for Ron.

Perhaps it was the connection they shared or sheer dumb luck that made him look his way and notice the surrendered look on his face; the look that told him everything he needed to know about how close Draco came to breaking. He knew he needed to act fast, so he simply took Astoria’s hand into his own and brought it to his mouth for a perfunctory kiss.

“I’m sorry, Madam, but I believe I have kept you at this tedious task for far too long. Blame it on my brutishness to come as last and keep you from having a dance with your husband with mindless chatter! I’m sure you must be dying to take a spin around the ball-room as any bride would be. I’m afraid I’m a terrible dancer myself but I’m ready to abuse my privilege as a guest and secure at least one dance with you for later, I simply can’t let Draco have all the pleasure of the night.

But if you deny me... I’m terribly sorry in advance, but I’m just going to have to ask him to dance with me as I’m sure no one else will have me. You see, I have quite a reputation of being a proper troll on the dance-floor and should you leave me stranded, I wouldn’t dream of imposing my appalling dancing skills on another lady... though I don’t mind mauling Draco here a bit, for old time’s sake. We were quite the adversaries back in the school days, in case he forgot to mention it. I wouldn’t mind having a go at him if only on the dance-floor...”

His eyes shone with the brilliance of sapphires as the bride tried to catch her breath through a fit of laughter and he merely glanced at Draco, a Universe of daring promises in those mischievous eyes and Draco found himself with his heart beating loudly in his throat.

“Stop it,” he said faintly, not trusting his own voice to take him over the myriad of hopes and dreams Ron’s words evoked in him. “Stop embarrassing my wife, you terrible dork,” he finally managed, but there was no malice in his voice, just barely sheathed desire a plenty. He couldmurder him right now for toying with him so...

But his wife’s voice, still breathless from laughter, cut through his dark musings.

“Sweet Merlin and Rowena, Mr. Weasley, who could ever stand in your way, I wonder? By everything that’s precious, I swear I haven’t had a laugh like this in ages... The mental image alone... oh, my word! You can have your dance, by all means, I’m sure if your wife survived it, I shan’t be too damaged myself. However, I just might hold you by your word to ask my husband for a dance – the look on his face alone would most definitely be priceless and I might just beg you to do it, because I simply enjoy a good challenge! So what do you say, my darling – care to make your wife smile?”

She looked at Draco with big blue eyes, sparkling with laughter and innocence, and before Draco could reply, Ron chipped in, his voice soft and underlined with quiet danger:

“Yeah... what do you say, Malfoy? You wouldn’t be scared of being too close to me by any chance? Even your wife wants it... I might leave my prints on your aristocratic bum, but I swear I don’t bite... much.”

And for fuck’s sake, he didn’t know how and when, but all of the sudden Draco was so achingly hard, he could only think about the blood pulsating at the tip of his shaft, demanding release. All solid thought left him and he could do nothing but stare down those provoking blue eyes, the lust and challenge in them charging him so, he knew he just needed to make the wrong move and he’d come right into his pants.

“Fuck you,” he mouthed his silent need and frustration, to at least communicate to him what he’d love to do to him right now, but as he desperately fought to find a way out of the trap set up by those sparkling blue gems, he somehow found his voice almost by a miracle, and blurted out:

“You’re on. I’ll fuc... I’ll dance with you.”

Astoria clapped with her hands happily and chirped:

“Oh, this should be such good fun! I’m so glad we’ve met, Mr. Weasley; if anyone, you can teach my husband to loosen up a little, I dare say he is so solemn sometimes it scares me!”

“Oh, I’ll loosen him up alright,” said Ron calmly and just a blue flash under the innocent blink told Draco what he was really thinking off and he bit his lip not to moan out loud. “Your husband and I have quite a history of winding and unwinding each other spectacularly. But with this settled, I must ask to borrow him for a minute – I promise I shall return him to you unscathed - but some strategic planning is in place so your new parents-in-law don’t consider a blood sacrifice is in order for even considering such a tremendous indecency.”

And without waiting her reply, he simply smiled sweetly and pulled Draco behind him by grabbing onto his arm. He didn’t bother getting very far.

~ End of Part 13/1 ~

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my_thestral

◾ Fic: Art of denial (Part 13/1)

Fic: Art of denial (Part 13/1)

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