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my_thestralPairing: Ron/Draco
Word count: 2644 (this part)
Rating: PG-13 (or even less, who'd say?)
Disclaimer: My dear characters, you will eventually be released back to your original owner, I just kind of need you still... not for money, though! ;)
The air in the room was thick with the suffocating smell of candles, a whole sea of them illuminating a richly decorated nursery from every corner – and still doing precious little to chase away the hungry shadows that seemed to breathe darkness from the depth of the room’s exquisite heavy decor. The very atmosphere of the chamber was tainted with despair and pregnant with sickening anxiety.
The young man leaning over the child bed, however, was deaf to the world and seemed entirely unaffected by the room’s numbing depression. Having long ago forgotten all about the time, he was bent over a creature so tiny it seemed all but lost in the elegant crib. His mouth was moving tirelessly, whispering endless string of incantations and Draco Malfoy didn't even seem to notice when the door opened. He would certainly not be disturbed.
A small half-orb of translucent light poured from his wand and surrounded the baby, making it look faint, almost other-worldly. Almost motionless, it seemed as if the child was barely holding onto life inside the light-arch, kept in place by the blond man's incantations.
"Draco, darling... I brought help," Narcissa spoke quietly with an uncharacteristic quiver in her voice.
"I told you, Mother - I don't want anyone touching my son!" hissed the young man, clearly upset for having been interrupted. "Don’t you ever listen!? I don't want anyone near him; no one will lay a finger on him, no one can have him! I can do any Healer's job and... Mother, please... I made this baby, it is my responsibility to make him stay. He is weak... my little boy... so very weak."
His voice cracked in the end as if it had used the last of his strength and he resumed whispering complicated incantations that seemed to be keeping the child alive, even though just barely, and the father clinging on to his hope.
It broke Ron’s heart to see him like that. And the baby… he knew better than anyone how much Draco secretly looked forward to the child, to be finally able to hold one of his own in his arms. For an obscure reason the blond came to adore Rosie and Ron had often resorted to taking her to the park, where he met his lover “by chance” and then use the disillusionment charm just to give them an opportunity to see each other. Because it was all the way mutual. As soon as she could crawl, Rosie made the effort to climb into his lap and sit there happily for the remainder of their time together, not interested in anything else but playing with his long blond hair, messing it up with joy and lots of squealing, all the while babbling happily. And the very fact that Draco let her said more than any words could how he felt about “their little princess”.
And now he was finally to have a child of his own, a son, Ron knew, because there was nothing else for Malfoys in centuries – one son, that was it – and now it had all gone so terribly awry. He couldn’t let that happen. And as much as he wanted to just go there and hug his man fiercely and tell him it would be alright, he knew it was not going to be enough. Now it was time for a different kind of action.
"The baby can’t breathe properly," he spoke resolutely and Draco almost dropped his wand at the impossible sound of his voice. Incredulously, as if he couldn't believe he wasn't only dreaming, the blond cast a quick hungry glance across his shoulder and when his eyes indeed stopped on a tall redheaded figure, scantily clad and bare-feet, he closed his eyes as if he was trying to negotiate with his brain that his favourite redhead showing up in his child's nursery half naked wasn't just a figment of his wistful imagination.
"He's not breathing right," Ron repeated stubbornly, his eyes focused on the baby and deliberately paying no attention to his stunned lover. "Just... let me check something... don't move, don't move him under any circumstances and above all, don't give up on him. We can fix this, I know we can."
His voice was so adamant and full of assuredness that Draco’s knees almost gave in as if this very certainty somehow relieved him of his exhausting effort. But instead he just nodded with a knot in his throat and grabbed onto his wand with renewed vigour. He then closed his eyes to maintain focus and keep the protective spell in place with necessary strength. Just having Ron around was enough to put his whirling ravaged mind to peace and fill him up with hope.
"Madam, I need to leave for a very short time,” Ron turned to Narcissa, suddenly all businesslike and added quickly, before she could raise objections: “Very short time, I assure you. But I must be granted access when I return - I don't wish to be blown to pieces from here to Timbuktu because of your paranoid wards. Can I have it? Just for the night?"
"Anything," Narcissa promised without a blink. "You'll be able to apparate and disapparate anywhere on the Manor's property. I'll personally make sure of that."
"Good, make sure that I can, I may need to go back and forth several times."
With these words he disapparated from the spot and Narcissa only had to look at her son to know that she had done the right thing. He seemed to have straightened himself up, his shoulders arched defiantly with new strength and she knew he would hang on to his son's life for as long as it took for Ron Weasley to return. That's how much trust he had in the man he bonded. Narcissa wished she could share it - but she had brought Ron Weasley in for a reason and that reason did not sanction despair.
So she merely told him quietly: "It will be alright, you will see. He's a force to be reckoned with."
She saw his shoulders grow stiff for a moment as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just gave a curt nod and continued with quiet incantations, so she turned around without another word and went to do Ron Weasley's bidding.
Indeed it didn’t take long. But when the redhead re-appeared, all he had on him was a book, a small vial and a long narrow tube. Narcissa looked at him frowning, barely able to conceal her confusion, but the redhead wasn’t willing to lose any precious time.
“Can you do this?” he looked at her and pointed out at Draco. “Can you do the same incantation as your son and keep your grandson alive while I show this to Draco? There is no point explaining to you what this is for, he’s the Healer, he’s going to have to perform it in the end. So - can you help?”
“Of course…. I shall do my best,” she nodded curtly and if she was in any way insecure about her task, it wasn’t showing. “But you must hurry up,” she urged him and then added in a barely audible voice: “I can feel his magic disappearing, you better pray your book and other accessories prove helpful, Mr. Weasley.”
And without another word she approached her son and said in her most confident voice:
“I’ve got this. Your… partner has something to show you.”
Draco just paid her one long look, a Universe of pleading, weariness and worry in it unspoken, and abandoned his post at the baby’s bed after a long last.
“Weasley,” he managed before he collapsed into his arms and he couldn’t, he couldn’t pretend any longer, not for the world, not for his mother, that this was nothing, that his presence here was not desperately desired… so he did the only thing that felt sane: he kissed him. And Ron kissed him right back. Openly, without a hint of hesitation or remorse, kissed him straight on the mouth and Draco’s wounds began healing right there and then. That's just the way Ron Weasley affected him: he gave him hope, strength and whatever else he needed to make it through the moments of despair.
“Read this,” his lovely redhead said quietly and pushed a book he had brought along into his hands. “It’s Muggle, from a Muggle doctor. My wife had it in her library, you were right, she did read every book in English written on babies before we had our daughter. This, right here, is the section that speaks of prematurely born babies – and this, what I underlined - is what your baby lacks to breathe on his own. We need to make his lungs work properly and this substance here is that we need. I broke into a Muggle hospital and brought it here, but I couldn’t transport all this Muggle equipment you see on the picture with me - plus there is no time.
We will use our combined magic to make this work. We’re supposed to be larger than life together, Malfoy, so we will be. And we will bring your son back from the edge of the veil, I will breathe for him if I have to, for as long as I have to, but you’re the one who has to install this thing, just the way it is on the picture, through his windpipe. I don’t have the knowledge.”
Draco’s eyes grew big at the sight of a long narrow tube and a graphic sketch and he shook his head in horror almost imperceptively.
“I… can’t. This is barbaric.”
“Yes.You.Can, Malfoy!!” Ron’s voice was almost brutal with a sudden surge of Weasley temper. “You saved my life once, all those years ago, when Harry hexed me by mistake; you fought for me, tooth-and-nail and we’re going to fight for this baby here, your baby, our baby, do you hear me!? I’d do it, I swear I'd fucking do it even at the risk of your father skinning me alive if somehow this went wrong, but I don’t know the human anatomy as well as you do and I have a higher risk of failing. C’mon, Draco,” he spoke more softly at the sight of misery in his eyes.
“I’ll be with you all the way, this cannot fail. My niece Molly had the same - you know, my brother Percy’s little daughter? She was born prematurely and when nothing else helped, Hermione persuaded Percy to take her to a Muggle hospital and she was fine, just fine. So right now you’re going to take me to your bed, the big one, the one we… you know,” he smiled at him gently and brought a glimmer of light into the darkness of the day. “I’ll lie down, you’ll put your son on my chest and I’ll help him breathe while you do this. It is the only way. Please, Draco… let’s give our Rosie someone to play with, together.”
He kissed him once more, for hope, for courage and because it felt damn good and right kissing him in that moment. And somehow the unwavering hope and immense trust in his skills Ron held gave Draco courage to finally nod in agreement.
“Let’s do it,” he said quietly. “It’s not like we have anything to lose. We can’t keep him like this indefinitely.”
He paid one last look of anxiety and sadness to the tiny creature in a beautiful crib and called out to his mother:
“Has Astoria been moved from the bedroom yet? We will need room, Ron and I, to make our… to make my son better. Please make sure she moves, I want that bed, that room, to myself.”
“I shall take care of it promptly,” Narcissa nodded without stopping to plague him with a million questions she had ever since she saw the Weasley boy return and talk to her son quietly. There will be time enough for questions later, this was hardly the moment, the matter was far too important. The aura of magic she could see in her grandson was fading rapidly and her heart constricted in her chest when she reprimanded herself that she should have swallowed her pride hours ago and fetch her son’s life-mate immediately. But there was nothing for it now, she hoped there would never be a time to regret it.
The moment Draco took her post by the child’s bed, she hurried to make sure her son got everything he asked for. But as soon as she opened the door to the adjacent master bedroom, she was all but attacked by a hysterical flood of questions and sobbing her daughter-in-law released at the sight of her.
“Merlin be praised, Mother! There you are! No one would tell me anything! Where is my son?! Is he alright!? Draco took him away from me before I could see him properly and I know, I just know, something’s wrong! But no one would talk to me, no one! And they won’t let me move because of all this blood and… it’s awful! So please, Mother dear, please tell me he’s alright! He’s got to be, he’s got to! He was so full of life inside me, kicking away happily and then all of the sudden… Please… I just want to know no harm had come to him! He can’t be…”
At this point the door closed and Astoria’s voice was cut abruptly, leaving strange heavy silence to pervade the room.
“She’s right, you know,” Draco suddenly spoke bitterly. “One moment I had my hand on her belly, feeling him playing Quidditch inside and the next thing I knew there was liquid and blood everywhere and she was screaming… God, I wished she would stop… I couldn’t think when she howled like that, I couldn’t focus on how much I wanted him to live… I couldn’t…” His voice broke and he closed his eyes for the moment.
“Perhaps I’m cursed,” he whispered quietly. “Perhaps I’m destined to be the last Black and the last Malfoy after all. I’ve done so much wrong, perhaps it’s only right… Perhaps I’ve cheated Death somehow during the war and now it came back to haunt me in the most horrible of ways. Perhaps…”
“… you’re tired and you don’t know what the hell you’re saying, love,” Ron said as calmly as he could, desperately trying to hide how deeply he was hurt by his lover’s bitter thoughts. “I’ll tell you one thing: I’ve done nothing wrong and this is my child as well and I say that the Death can’t have it, not today! And I’ve cheated Death every bloody day in that war, by this reckoning everyone dear to me should be dead already! You will stop thinking those absurd thoughts right now, because I need my Malfoy here with me, if you please. You know, the arrogant bastard that would ask Death how dare she come and fetch him in those shabby clothes – I need that Malfoy with me now. Only he can save this baby, our baby, our son – because like this, you can’t,” he added brutally and it was enough to stir Draco out of the depressive flow of thoughts and pull himself up.
In that moment Narcissa Malfoy floated back into the nursery and told them quietly: “Everything has been arranged according to your wishes. You have the bedroom to yourselves.”
“It is time, then,” Draco decided quietly, a distressed man from a moment before gone as if he never existed. “Weasley, go make yourself ready, I’m bringing our son in.”
And it gave Narcissa Malfoy all the credit in the world that she never even winced at the word “our”. In fact, she might have smiled a little.
Next: Art of denial (17/2): Spilling magic
See also:
Art of Denial (1): It's been 20 years...
Art of denial (2): First time
Art of denial (3): Some First time... some Second time...
Art of denial (4): Still second time... and time again...
Art of denial (5): Milestones
Art of denial (6): Of hearts and bonds
Art of denial (7): Cracked open and oozing true feelings
Art of denial (8): Unbreakable
Art of denial (9): To give some, to take some away
Art of denial (10): There to witness defeat
Art of denial (11/1): Nowhere without you
Art of denial (11/2): Magic of old
Art of denial (12): With this ring I thee wed
Art of denial (13/1): When everything hurts...
Art of denial (13/2): Small comforts
Art of denial (14): Give me more...
Art of denial (15/1): Not a chosen one
Art of denial (15/2): Come to me
Art of denial (16/1): Enters the little Princess
Art of denial (16/2): A Prince to love
Art of denial (16/3): All of it, for the family
