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my_thestralPairing: Draco/Ron
Word count: 2645 (this part)
Rating: PG-13 (language only)
Disclaimer: sadly, I did not invent them therefore I can't make any money out of them
“Malfoy, what on Merlin’s bloody Earth is this!?”
The front page of The Daily Prophet that landed with force on the table in front of Draco Malfoy boasted in fat thick letters:
“The Malfoys: A scandalous end to the fairly-tale!!!”
Draco Malfoy rumoured to be divorcing his beautiful wife Astoria! - According to a source, close to the couple, the lovely lady already fled the Malfoy Mannor heart-broken and is healing her wounds on the continent – Full story continued on page 3 – For recap of the couple’s fairy-tale life caught on camera see pages 4 and 5
“Oh, would you look at that! Looks like I’ve got the whole blasted edition to myself!” the blond smirked sarcastically, skipping through the pages of the newspaper with feigned interest. “Oh, look, there’s more of me: All the sins of Draco Malfoy – is he really the devil incarnate? See page 10 for details – Page 10?? Really? Only? How shocking! And look there’s How to escape an abusive relationship, page 12 – they’ve really out-done themselves this time!”
He looked up into the fuming eyes of the deputy of the Minister of Magic Hermione Granger Weasley and smiled beatifically:
“And what, exactly, is your interest in my family life, Granger?”
“That’s Deputy Minister Granger-Weasley to you, Malfoy, I suggest you show some respect!” she barked at him, uncommonly rough.
“Or else?” Draco said almost sweetly. “You’ll have me fired for not showing you proper respect? You? Even if it is only me, people might still call you pompous and wonder if your pride was really that hurt by a lack of proper addressing… or - ” he added in a silken, almost matter-of-fact voice, as if it was only an afterthought: “ - perhaps they might say you’ve done it because I’m fucking your husband...”
“What… What did you just say!?”
Hermione had turned ashen white and she grabbed the top rail of the chair he was sitting on for support, lest she lose her footing.
“Me? Nothing… Just contemplating where your little… investigation of how things stand between me and Ron might take you… Surely that would be a popular option if your sniffing around ever comes to light, you must agree… Oh, for Merlin’s sake, woman, take a chair, I don’t want to have to resuscitate you!” he barked after he had glanced over her face in glee and noticed her ashen trembling lips.
Hermione indeed collapsed on the chair, her big brown eyes almost glued in horror onto the cruel narrow face.
“Oh, come-the fuck-on, Granger!” he moved closer to her across the table on his elbows to intimidate her – a very successful technique according his father. “You didn’t think your… research is actually going to consist of you coming at me with your magnificent authority and me falling down on my knees in tears, confessing to whatever you wanted to hear. Do your bloody job, woman - you’re supposed to be good at that – and I promise you that: if you do happen to come upon the truth, I will let you know… Slytherin honour,” he smiled slyly.
“Or… I could just ask Ron,” she unexpectedly said quietly as if her magnificent mind just broke the ice of his gleeful malice and Draco knew she was ten-fold more dangerous now than when she was shouting.
“Well, I suppose you could, couldn’t you?” he smiled with fake expression of enthusiasm. “Would that be the husband that you suspect of lying to you for some time now? If he denies it all – would you believe him? Because – what possible motive could he have now to tell you the truth?”
“How about this?” she pointed towards the newspaper suggestively and awaited his reply with her sharp eyes trained on his face.
“Ah...” he smiled angelically and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I suppose there is that.”
And the sly smile he gave left no doubt of his intentions.
She leaned forward on her elbows towards him just like he did before and asked him clearly, looking straight into his grey eyes full of amusement:
“Are you putting yourself on the market for my husband, Malfoy? Is that what this is? An invitation? Come and get me, I’m free for you now... Is that how you propose to win him over? That’s laughable!”
She had a small satisfaction of seeing anger flash in the dark background of those lead-grey eyes, but when he spoke, his voice was void of this particular emotion.
“If you insist this is something of the kind... I’m not saying that it is – but speaking hypothetically, the answer is: No. I suppose that would never do. It would not be enough for Ron. You’ve been married to the man for over a decade, you know the level of blindness he’s capable of, you know the depth of the pit in which to look for his self-esteem – he’d never consider this is about him. But it would certainly make him think and open his eyes about... other options. Still speaking strictly hypothetically, of course - if I was set on doing something as ridiculous as this, win him over, as you put it, that would certainly be a good way to start, don’t you agree?” he looked at her sharply and smiled at her sweetly and she realized from up close, how very well he knew Ron, how many hours he must have spent studying him, how intimately he must have gotten connected with him some time during their decade together at work...
If it was only work... that thought was… well, irritating didn’t really begin to cut it, more like deeply disturbing. Ron and Malfoy were recognised as the best of on-the-field teams who did a tough and ungrateful job and every such team was a closely knit unit of two highly-skilled people, so finely tuned to each other that their mutual understanding bordered on supernatural – the literally seemed to be able to read each other’s thoughts in order to cooperate efficiently (and some did, using legilimency on a regular basis). But that described every such team, not just them, though, admittedly, they were incredibly successful considering how poorly matched they seemed at first. Hermione never questioned the nature of their success and had she never met Scorpius Malfoy, she could have gone to her grave thinking that Draco Malfoy was merely her husband’s partner at work.
But clearly, there was more. And it scared her to think how much more... All the time they spent together... Always, Malfoy had said...
There were never any accusations of fraternization when it came to those two, none whatsoever, she was sure. She was in a position that she would have found out about those and if no one else, Harry certainly would have and after what she saw on Platform 9 3/4 there was no way in hell Harry would have ignored it. He would have split the mismatched team up in a blink and happily slip into Draco’s place. Harry was... her heart constricted when she thought of Harry.
Perhaps she should never have married Ron, she should have let Harry have him – anyone was better than Malfoy! But she had wanted him so... And she had made her call, one that had made Harry utterly miserable and in a long run she had made a right decision: she loved her life at Ron’s side, he had given her everything she ever wanted and she had to admit he went out of his way to accommodate her and her career ambitions, but still... Harry... and the naked raw despair she saw on his face when he was faced with Malfoy junior... the quiet yearning in his eyes when he thought no one was looking and his eyes wandered towards Ron and just fed on him... the hungry hands he couldn’t keep to himself when he got drunk and finally had an excuse... the face that just lit up in joy when he looked at her incredibly handsome husband... She could never be jealous of Harry, if anything, he made her feel insanely guilty, guilty as hell!
But she had no such reservations when it came to Draco Malfoy. Always, he had said. Before her, before Harry, before either of them knew. Two decades of unrequited love, then... she should have been sorry for the man. And yet the very thought of those long aristocratic fingers anywhere near her husband’s skin made her hair stand on end and her skin crawl with desire to hurt him... She just had to look at that pretty smirking face and she had an uncommon urge to run her nails down his cheeks forcefully, cutting deep wells, deforming him, desecrating that untouchable marble beauty... The violence of her impulses almost scared her – what was it about the snotty blond that made her want to protect what was hers at any price? Because Ron was hers, wasn’t he? He was. Wasn’t he?
And all of the sudden she was ambushed by the scariest, most impossible thought she had no grounds to harbour, but still... Who said Malfoy’s love was unrequited? No one, a quiet voice in her head answered. No one had said it, Malfoy certainly never did, she just assumed... Suddenly she felt almost physically sick. Surely Ron wouldn’t do that to her?! She saw him push Harry away, however gently, time and time again, surely he’d be able to repel the advances of the haughty blond who couldn’t afford to be too upfront... up until now. Always, her mind whispered quietly. Always.
And from one moment to another she somehow knew this was the truth. Once she was willing to acknowledge the possibility, her gut told her she was on the right trail. There were a million little things… Ron never seemed to mind her prolonged absences much, he was somehow more present in Draco Malfoy’s life than any other individual she knew of... the wedding invitation… well, not that, that was for both of them and she could have gone if… but she was also fairly certain that that vicious magical tear, that wouldn’t let her repair her dress, was not there a day before…
And then this god-forsaken affair of saving Scorpius Malfoy’s life… something was off here… something… but she couldn’t put her finger on it, as if she was missing a vital piece of information that would explain how could someone’s magic spill into another person. That didn’t just happen, of that she was certain! Malfoy was right, she needed to research this, read something, talk to people and then come at him with proof and slam it across the narrow smirking face!
Her mind was racing a million miles a minute to try and come up with more evidence that would testify of Ron’s relationship with the annoying blond bastard – and she could find out nothing out of the ordinary. The little time when she was home, Ron was always by her side, well, with the exceptions of his Thursdays of course, but…
Thursdays. That was the answer. She felt it in her gut. But that couldn’t have been it, surely… Ron had asked for Thursdays off even before they were married, that was at least twelve years ago then, surely they couldn’t have - all the way back then...
And then an unexpected memory sprung upon her, one of Malfoy congratulating Ron for their engagement and then hissing those hateful repulsive words at her about fucking him... she’d never think him capable of even uttering those demeaning words and somehow the thought of that haughty aristocratic mouth speaking such filthy language left her strangely dizzy. He was always rude, yes, but to be this crass was just… so out of character! And all this time she thought it was due to the hatred between them… what if she was wrong? What if the thing that derailed the haughty blond so was not hatred, but it’s oppositeentirely? Could it be all those years? That was... eons ago... what, 15, more!?
She couldn’t dwell on those thoughts, she couldn’t. Not now, anyway. Her hands were beginning to shake all over again, her mind was clouded with haze of disbelief and searing anger and he was sitting right opposite from her, grey eyes smirking as if he could follow the mysterious paths of her mind. She couldn’t let him any closer or he would win this here and now. She would do her work, just like he told her to, and face him again when she had a better hand to play.
“So what are your plans for me, Malfoy?” she asked him in a seemingly impassive voice, careful to conceal any hint of the turmoil that was going on inside her.
“Plans, what plans?” he raised his eyebrow dismissively as if he was going to ad she was not nearly important enough to include her in his scheming. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re on about.”
Again that polite smile that made her want to reach across the table and crash the marble façade apart with the back of her hand. But that would speak of her defeat more bluntly than any other action could.
“You know, your elaborate plans for me, his wife of 12 years,” she mirrored his politeness instead, knowing it would unsettle him though he’d never show it. “Shall I just roll over and die to make it convenient to you?”
The sly, most insolent lopsided grin he gave her convinced her that he had already harboured this thought himself, but as always, he was not playing with open cards and he was anything but dumb: telling his superior he wanted to get rid of her was not part of his strategy. Slytherin to the bone, this one, still after all these years.
“Oh, well… if I had any plans for you, hypothetically speaking, of course, because I can’t see why I should – but just for the sake of the argument, if I did: what makes you think I’d share them with you? It’s not like you are going to follow them, is it? Why risk having you ruin them? If there were any, that is…”
“I see,” she said slowly, thoughtfully. “Now let me summarize what I’ve learned here today, before we conclude this calamity of a conversation: You are after my husband, plain and square, and you just put your foot in the door of making him see that you’re available quite bluntly. You’d never admit to it openly, but you’ve been after him for years and it’s for me to find out how successful your quest had been. And you’re clearly delusional enough to think you stand a chance against whatever is holding Ron tied to me and the life we have together – it’s not just me and our 12-year-old marriage, you know, it’s also the children we have together, the friends we share - and you don’t – the knowledge I have of this man I slept next to my entire adult life; it’s the thousands little secrets of ours, our dreams and future plans and a million comfortable routines you’re going against, Malfoy. I wonder – can you really play as well as you think?”
She could see her words hit the mark because his face had turned just a shade greyer and the dismissive smirk was now gone completely. But he only looked at her with dark grey eyes and said quietly:
“You play well, Granger, you always did, but you forget I’m playing with an ace you don’t have.”
When she raised her eyebrow questioningly, challenging him to explain with no words, he gave a tiniest smile that suddenly looked tired and said the words with absolute conviction in his voice:
“Ron’s heart.”
And when he got up and disappeared, he had left her broken.
Next: Art of denial (21/1): The truth at last
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
Art of denial (17/1): Of trust and hope
Art of denial (17/2): Spilling magic
Art of denial (18/1): Before the storm
Art of denial (18/2): No one else would do
Art of denial (19/1): The joys and woes of Rose Weasley
Art of denial (19/2): Treacherous eyes
Art of denial (19/3): What if you could...?
Art of denial (19/4): Of secrets and desires
