my_thestral ◾ Fic: Art of denial (Part 16/3) (Reply)

Author's note: Same as 5 minutes ago, I hate this splitting, BTW
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Word count: 2480 (this part)
Rating: PG-13 Uff... maybe
Disclaimer: See one before

“Good,” mumbled Ron, already somewhat oblivious to his victory, because, damn that man, he knew how to stir him, how to make his mind spin and his breath hitch even with the most innocent of kisses - but then his face suddenly grimaced and he tore away from his lover only to stare at his daughter with a look of wide-eyed wonder:

“Mother of god, the smell… Rosie… ewww!… Were you attacked by the giant sewer and the sewer won, princess!?”

Draco couldn’t help laughing out loud.

“Well, Rosie… you came up with your own little present for your dad, didn’t you? Perhaps it’s time for your Uncle Draco to leave now, let your dad unwrap the precious gift all by himself…”

“You.Are not.Going.Anywhere!!! I’m serious, Malfoy! If you leave me now, with this… god, what was in that bottle!?... thisproduce in her nappy, that’s it between us, I want a divorce!”

Judging by the horrified look in Ron’s eyes, he was only half-joking and Draco barely managed to swallow a laugh that was bubbling at the edge of his throat.

“Blackmail,” he determined dryly. “Rosie, your father retorted to blackmail. Let it be known, that I was blackmailed into doing this. I want it in your yearbook, as it happened, if you please: My dad then blackmailed my Uncle Draco into changing my diaper very shamelessly, pulling his immense sex-appeal and a set of blue eyes Uncle Draco’s crazy Aunt Bella could not say “no” to.”

Ron rolled up his eyes: “A guy asks him one little favour, seriously… Draco Malfoy, forever the drama queen… ” he mumbled, but Draco had already sat up in the bed adamantly and picked up the baby carefully.

“Hold her, while I get decent,” he instructed him, then put his clothes on dutifully ignoring one wistful look after another Ron was sending his way as his decidedly tempting body rapidly disappeared into the well-tailored robes. And Draco just smiled smugly to himself. It was good to know that for once he was not the only one with issues of unresolved sexual tension.

“Now – considering your wife probably read every book in existence on babies, I bet you’ve had everything ready for months, haven’t you? Excellent, it’s good to know the Mud-, Granger is still the goody two shoes she was in school. Now, watch and learn… and for Merlin’s sake, try not to vomit! You have no idea what she’ll have in store for you once she switches to solid food!”

And Ron didn’t retch – just barely! – but he soldiered on, because his “super-secret Healer-boyfriend” came to his rescue and he was making all the effort, making it look so easy and damn, was there something, anything this man wasn’t good at?! Seriously – who the fuck makes changing a baby look sexy!? Well, he had his answer right in front of his nose, wearing a smug smile and offering him a clean, sweetly smelling baby and he just had to, he had to hold him, hold them both and tell them, tell him how very precious he found him.

“I don’t want you go to,” he whispered, but he saw in the resigned look of the grey eyes that it was time - and goddamn, wasn’t that the dawn already creeping in through the windows and the night, their magical night together, was without a doubt approaching end.

“I must,” Draco said quietly, though he didn’t want to, he really truly honestly didn’t want to. This apartment, so foreign mere hours ago, suddenly felt as their territory, theirs, Ron’s and his and of the baby alone, and he felt inexplicable rage and jealousy to think that this was not only the first, but probably also the last time he was ever going to set his foot in here and that someone else entirely was entitled to roam the rooms where they set up their little illusion of being family.

But it was only for the night. Only for the night and now the night was over.

He felt torn and hurt like never before when he said his goodbyes by the door. It took lots of slow lingering kisses to find the strength to part, as well as a string of broken whispered promises “soon, very soon… a day after tomorrow… it’s Thursday… I’d never miss it… just a couple of days and I’ll see you again… I miss you already… we both do…” as if Ron was aware how badly ripped apart he felt, how barely he was holding it together, how much resilience was necessary not to give up the last of himself and beg him to let him stay.

And then there was the baby in Ron’s arms, awkwardly placed between them, but somehow a perfect fit, because she made them what they were this night. Draco must have kissed her round red cheeks a dozen times and still he felt as if the brilliant blue eyes were asking for more, because she was just the most adorable little thing who gurgled happily whenever she caught a strand of blond hair and just pulled and pulled until she got another kiss and it was time for another happy gurgle.

She broke his heart. In that, she was also her father’s daughter.

Ron’s eyes sparkled with barely held back tears when the blond finally managed to tear away from the little thing and the baby, as if she sensed that something was getting broken beyond repair, launched into an angry devastated howling as if she was aware that was the last of the silken comfort she was going to get.

“Get her away from the door, she’ll get a chill… and for god’s sake keep her safe,” was the only thing Draco managed before he put his hand up and touched Ron’s cheek in a goodbye, unable to say another word, unable to even look at him.

“Thursday… see you on Thursday…” Ron whispered behind him, but Draco was already gone, another second in the place of broken dreams would have burned him to ashes. And Ron just swallowed thickly, determined not to spoil this occasion by crying and whispered to his daughter:

“And this, Rosie, is how your foolish daddy watches the love of his life to walk out of the door… time and time again.”

When Draco apparated to the their apartment, by more luck than wisdom unsplinched, he held his cloak around him with trembling fingers as if he was going to fall apart if he let go. The pain and emptiness that overwhelmed him were unbearable. There was no way he could go back to the Manor tonight, he was only held together by the thought of soothing warmth and familiar smell of their bed, their sheets, their bed–covers. He always felt safe buried deeply under a pile of blankets, pervaded with the smell of them, their smell, their happy time together - and tonight he needed it more than ever. He felt hollow, raw and filled to the brim with hurt and a sudden need to scream out his agony.

Why did he allow Ron to keep on hurting him? Why did he crave it so? How did he get so caught up in this game of give and take he had no way out of and wouldn’t use the exit door even if there was one? Why was he so cursed with this heavy unforgiving love that gave so much and took even more and left him with a feeling he had no life outside of it? Why…? Too many questions and not an answer to be found.

He staggered towards the bed and sunk right into it, not bothering to take his clothes, not even his coat and boots, off. He was chilled to the bone anyway, might as well keep them. He was also exhausted. Not before long he launched into a dream so torn and vivid he couldn’t tell where the veil of his dream world shredded and reality peek through. He dreamed that someone pulled his boots off and rid him of his coat and then that familiar warmth wrapped around him and that god-like scent possessed his senses, making his misery, his emptiness, disappear on a whim. He dreamed of him, of his silken warm hair, of a tight embrace and soft soothing kisses and sunk right into the bottom of that dream and slept like a child.

And when he finally woke up and indeed found himself safely tucked within Ron’s arms, with the blue eyes smiling at his awe, he was really only half startled. Perhaps this was a part of a dream as well.

“My mother came to relieve me of my baby-watching duty; she said to get some rest,” Ron told him quietly. “But I told her I was going to get some air instead and I came here. I could feel your sorrow seeping through the distance. I can’t stand to feel you hurt, Draco Malfoy.”

And he accepted a shower of grateful kisses with a blissful smile and hugged him fiercely some more and eventually they drifted off into another fit of tired sleep. When Draco woke up, Ron was still slumbering, his arm casually thrown over his waist and bent in the elbow to keep him as close as possible. And he was overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of gratitude and stupid heady love. He was going to repay him the only way he knew how.

He kissed him softly and chuckled at the unintelligible mumble that came out of his mouth, then he freed himself as carefully as he could from his embrace and covered him with his coat in the last gesture of love and care, before he disapparated from their apartment straight into Diagon Alley.

Two hours later Astoria Malfoy woke up into a room filled to the ceiling with flowers. There were vases and bouquets and baskets of them, all of them roses, some bright red, others translucently white and they were everywhere. On the dresser, by the bed, hanging from the chandelier, an avenue of them leading to the door and a few more splendid luxurious bouquets by her feet. And her husband was right in the middle of them.

None of his usual cool façade was in sight, not even a glimpse of remorse she got used to seeing in those startling grey eyes though he would never own up to it. This time those eyes were lit with light that filled him from within, making them glow with a fairytale silver lustre - and he was smiling. Not the usual cold sneer or a haughty smirk, but a full-on blissful smile she saw him offer Ron Weasley on his wedding day. It had transformed him so, all of the sudden he was beyond beautiful.

“I came to make you happy,” he said simply. “Let’s make this work, Astoria.”

And something inside her melted at the sight of that smile and she felt her own face stretch in an attempt to mirror it. She offered him his hand and opened the bed covers invitingly.

“How about we start here,” she proposed with a sweet smile and her heart leaped in her chest when he took her hand without further ado, merely a victorious smile playing at his lips.

Almost eight months later to the day there was a nervous sound of a doorbell at the peaceful apartment of the Granger-Weasley family on the outskirts of London. A rather bleary-eyed Hermione Granger-Weasley – for it was the middle of the night – went to open the door, fully intent on giving a fair piece of her mind to the brute abusing her doorbell like this, with no thought to a sleeping child.

But she literally took a step backwards when she stared into the livid ice blue eyes of Narcissa Malfoy.

“For Merlin’s sake, woman, lower your wards, the war has been over for years, I almost got knocked about!” she barked at the startled looking Hermione. “In the end I was reduced to… this,” she pointed angrily at the abused door-bell button now looking rather worse for wear. And without pausing long enough to give Hermione a chance to retort, she demanded with a poorly concealed urgency in her voice:

“No matter, nothing for it now. I came here to fetch your husband. Is he home?”

“What use could you possibly have for Ron?!” the bushy-haired witch finally found her voice and it sounded exactly as irritated and on edge as she felt.

“He is b… paired to my son… at work, his… partner, is he not? Draco is in need of him! It is urgent and of utmost importance! I would not be here if this was not the case, you can trust me on that! It is also… somewhat confidential. It is absolutely vital that we hurry up!”

“Look, Madam Malfoy, if you think you can just barge in and demand my husband to join your son on some super secret mission - which you’re clearly privy to, so how secret can it be?! – and in the middle of the blasted night, you’ve got another think coming! Ron’s not going to….”

“Hermione?” came from behind her back and Ron Weasley, clad merely in a pair of loosely done jeans, showed up with a small sobbing child in his lap. “What’s the commotion all about? Who’s…” but the words died on the redhead’s face when he noticed their visitor and his visibly sleepy visage was immediately wide awake and alert.

“Has something happened to Draco?” he asked breathless in a sharp tense voice. “Is he OK? Is…”

“Everything is fine with my son… for now. But he needs you,” Narcissa Malfoy looked deeply into his eyes, trying to convey without words how very urgent this was. She didn’t need to say more.

Ron handed Hermione his daughter without another word, without even an attempt at explanation.

“Take me,” he said simply and ignored the gawping mouth of his wife when Narcissa Malfoy took a hold of his arm and disapparated them both.

Once they apparated at the lobby of the Malfoy Manor Ron frowned. He had bad memories of this place and it made his skin crawl to even be here.

“Do you mind telling me what this is all about?” he threw after Narcissa Malfoy, who wasted no time rushing him through a small million of elegant rooms.

“It’s Draco’s baby,” she replied without even looking at him. “It has been born already, far too early, and he’s very weak. My son is in there, fighting for his life. And I know you can help. ”

She halted so abruptly, the redhead barely stopped from knocking into her, and looked at him with uncommonly feverish eyes: “I know you can. Prove me right, Ronald.”