Fic and update
Jun. 8th, 2005 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thrihyrneThis is somewhat spurred on by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fungus_files, who wanted to make sure that I was around. I've been quiet on LJ because I haven't had much of worth to say (though I am looking forward both to Hypericon and the Assrune Moot! WOO!!) and I've been doing other stuff; mostly writing of all kinds: letters and fic. T., wrote you again this morning- your Mum is going to wonder what on earth has happened when you keep getting letters from me. :P And snottygrrl, your lil package went out yesterday. I've been emailing with euclase and llembas (though I definitely owe you one back) about the Moot, working on a CD compilation of my own, and I mowed the lawn. Not necessarily in that order.
So- now I'm at work, listening to John's CD compilation, doing data entry which is pretty much all I do in the summer, but hey- it's air conditioned and 4 days a week through July. So, more on the Ron/Draco WiP titled "The Ties that Bind." The first part is here in case you're interested, though it's gone through a bunch of changes since I posted it. Me, I hate WsIP. But aside from the really dark R/S I wrote last weekend, this is what I've been working on, and I'm having waaaaay too much fun with it and cross-referencing other stories as well as regular life. And adult manga. LOL. So here's the whole thing as it stands currently. Oh, and it's adult, too. Be warned of smut. ;)
The Ties That Bind
Started May 2005
Ron breathed deeply of the delicious smell of morning.
Delicious in that he was still in bed, head buried under the covers, ensconced in a cozy cocoon still fragrant with alder tree oil. The distinctive aroma evoked thoughts of Quidditch, broom polish, and sex, since it was in the lubricant that his partner made exclusively for their use. Ron closed his eyes, stretching his legs and flexing his feet with a yawn. Rolling over on his side, he began to drift off again, burying his face in his lover’s pillow.
“Ron! What the hell are you doing? Get your bony, horrifically late arse up. NOW!”
Fuck. In his somnifacient stupor, Ron had completely forgotten that today was the day he and Draco were taking Muggle transport - an airplane, to be exact - to go to New York City so Draco could take an intensive 6-month culinary course.
The coverlet was yanked down, leaving Ron exposed and blinking owlishly in the sudden light. Draco glowered above him.
“You should be showered and dressed by now,” he seethed. “Granger will be here in half an hour. I knew I had good cause to make you pack last week.”
“Bollocks! Sorry, Draco.” With the grace of a drunken hippogriff, Ron disentangled his legs from the sheets and stumbled to a standing position. “I’ll get cleaned up and I swear I’ll be ready to go on time.”
Draco scowled, looking utterly unconvinced. “You’d better. I refuse to be alone with Granger, Mistress of Muggle Studies, listening to her blather on about what I need to know as though I’m a troglodyte.”
“Troglowhat?” Ron said as he shucked his boxers and walked quickly to their bathroom.
“Never mind. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Twenty-nine minutes and fifty seconds later, Ron stood at the base of the stairs, eyeing the collection of luggage in disbelief. Most were elegant, slate-coloured cases embossed with D.A.M. in silver.
“Um, are you sure you want to haul all of that around?” Ron asked. “We’ve already sent heaps of stuff over there.”
“I’m not hauling anything,” Draco replied scornfully. “There are porters to do that. Cassandra assured me of that weeks ago.”
Draco’s second cousin on his mother’s side was a witch living in New York who had agreed to help the two settle in once they arrived in the city. As dreadfully fond of Draco as he was, Ron was a bit apprehensive about meeting more of Draco’s extended family. Even their impending one-year anniversary didn’t make him feel any more secure.
“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Ron said as convincingly as he could.
“No, you’re not. That’s okay- you’ll end up liking her regardless. She’s a relation on Mother’s side, after all.” Draco fidgeted with the links on his watch, brows furrowed. “Granger’s late.”
Ron walked over to Draco and ran his fingers through the silky hair, earning an irritated growl for his trouble.
“She’ll be here any second,” Ron said, cradling Draco’s head and tilting it up slightly until Draco grudgingly raised his gaze to meet Ron’s. “You’re right about Cassandra, though. I reckon she’ll think you’re just having some low-class fling. As long as that’s not what you think.”
The imminent reality of moving to another country with Draco, even temporarily, has loosened Ron’s tongue, though he hated how insecure he sounded.
Draco’s expression warmed. “I don’t always know what to call this.” He gestured vaguely at the house they shared. “But fling is certainly not what comes to mind.” He put his arms around Ron’s waist before sliding them down to cup Ron’s arse. “I’m far too fond of this part of you to surrender it anytime soon. And besides.”
Ron tilted his head as Draco nuzzled the side of his neck, moving his own hands so they were clasped behind Draco’s waist.
“Two things to know about Malfoys, in case your Healer-addled brain hadn’t picked up on these subtleties,” Draco murmured into Ron’s skin. “One, we have exceedingly refined senses. Ron, you simply smell right to me. End of discussion. Two, a Malfoy would never dare to do anything even resembling slumming in his personal relations. We are rather exclusive, after all."
If Draco had intended to say anything further, it was silenced as Ron possessively kissed him. All his life, Ron had suffered through hand-me-downs, living constantly in the shadows of his older brothers and even his dearest friends. It was surely ironic that Draco Malfoy would be the first person to want to claim Ron for his own. As Draco’s enthusiastic tongue mapped out mine, mine, mine in Ron’s willing mouth, the redhead decided it didn’t matter how they’d gotten together. It only mattered that they had.
There was a loud rapping at the door.
"Hermione."
"Granger."
The words were voiced in tandem against each other's mouths.
Ron slid his lips across Draco's cheek to his earlobe. "It's going to be okay," he said reassuringly.
"I've no doubt."
Draco pulled away and reverted to his public persona, complete with a slightly bored expression.
"I…" Ron's voice trailed off. Draco could shutter his intimate emotions away on the turn of a knut in a way completely foreign to Ron, and it annoyed him. Well, wounded was more accurate, but Merlin that sounded girly. Malfoys might be elegant and private, but Weasleys tended to wear their hearts on their sleeves. Ron suddenly wished they weren't going anywhere.
As though he could read Ron's mind, Draco quickly returned to Ron's side and snaked an arm around his waist.
"We're going to be okay," he said in a low voice, and Ron smiled gratefully.
"Ron? Malfoy?" Hermione's anxious voice could be heard outside.
The usual dispassionate look returned to Draco's voice as he opened the door.
"Granger. Lovely to see you, as always."
Ron inwardly winced at the relative insincerity in his voice. Hermione and Draco tolerated each other, but Ron had become resigned to the fact that they would never be friends.
"Hi Hermione. Thanks for doing this," Ron said, enfolding her in a hug.
"Anything for you," she said pointedly. Behind her back, Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste.
Thankfully the ride to the airport was uneventful, if a bit tense. After rushed goodbyes and Ron promising to owl or write at least once a month, Draco and Ron made their way to the appropriate lounge.
We're really going, Ron thought in amazement, trying not to stare at the gaggle of people around him. Merlin do I hope this isn't a massive mistake.
***
Though Ron was sure Draco wouldn't have cared much for the image, Draco took to New York like a duck to water, especially in regards to its vibrant nightlife. Upon arrival, Cassandra had taken it upon herself to be their guide for as long as Draco and Ron wished. She'd taken them to four clubs in three nights; it would have been even more but Ron insisted that they have at least a couple of evenings to themselves to get situated and send a few notes to friends and, in Ron's case, family, letting them know they had arrived safely and were settling in.
Like Draco, Cassandra was striking in appearance with similar porcelain skin, high cheekbones, but she had long, straight, jet-black hair. Despite not knowing each other very well prior to Draco and Ron's move, the second cousins soon got along like a house on fire, sharing an enthusiasm for dancing and socialising. Ron tried to be game about it, attempting to convince himself that they'd eventually have a balance in pursuits when he talked Draco into attending a match by a fledgling Quidditch team their first Sunday afternoon in the States. To Ron's astonishment, prior to leaving England Draco had even covertly relayed Ron's enthusiasm for sport, and Cassandra had made sure there was a widescreen telly that Ron spent many grateful hours investigating.
There was even some sex, as Ron and Draco christened their bedroom, the vast tub in the bathroom, even against the kitchen counter.
"Preparing food can be as intense as fucking," Draco had insisted, enticing Ron into the half-unpacked room by promising to spend some time wanking for show, a visual treat that Ron found extremely erotic.
"I'll want to be able to think about us in the throes of passion," Draco went on, "you unable to keep your hands off of me, think about your cock-"
"Okay," Ron agreed zealously before a thought struck him. "Just don't be thinking about my bits while you're chopping at things. That's perverse."
Draco had laughed so hard at that Ron had simply been left with no choice but to kiss Draco into submission.
His fourth Wednesday overseas, Ron found himself outside a wizarding tattoo parlour of all places. It was his and Draco's anniversary, at least Ron considered it to be. One year ago they'd had their first official date. Ron had been seeing Draco on a daily basis for the month prior while recalibrating Draco's magic after he'd been hexed during a duel, and that had sparked their interest in each other. Draco spent from 10 o'clock to 6:00 at his culinary school, so Ron had the days to go exploring, investigating both the Muggle and wizarding aspects of the city.
Though it would have surprised most people who knew Ron, Hermione excepted, at his core he was an incurable romantic, not to mention sentimental. Hence the sheepish smile that played on his lips as he finished a cigarette before entering the parlour. He'd been thinking seriously about getting a tattoo since the War had ended, but it wasn't until he and Draco had passed the six month mark that it'd struck him what he wanted to get, and where. He patted a pocket in his jacket and heard the rustling of paper with the printout he'd done that morning. Thanks to Charlie and the Preserve's relatively new online presence on the wizarding internet, his design of a Siberian Snegbog was in colour on paper, ready to be magically inked on his left shoulder blade.
He went in.
***
"Ron, be a dear and get me a glass of wine, will you?" Draco sounded uncommonly tired when he came home later that day. "With a side of ?[author still hasn't named said potion] please. My head's positively throbbing." The door shut behind him.
Ron looked up from the chair where he was sprawled, watching a men's diving competition.
"Sure. Were you working more with that-"
"Don't even say the word." Draco sank dramatically to the floor, looking at Ron with a mournful gaze. "Thank you."
Ron padded into the kitchen and poured them both a glass, smiling a bit at the lingering pain in his back. He didn't know what Draco had in mind for the evening, but he was sure that it would be memorable. Draco never forgot any event of importance, even some that Ron thought were exceedingly trivial, like the blond's first owl's birthday.
"I'll just go get the potion," Ron said, handing one glass to Draco and kissing the crown of his head.
"Ow," Draco moaned.
"Oh c'mon, it can't be that bad."
The grey eyes took on a look of disbelief.
"Okay, fine," Ron acquiesced.
Moments later Ron found himself sitting on the couch behind Draco, gently rubbing his lover's scalp. He decided it wasn't too bad, drinking some wine and listening to soft music, though he was anticipating some intense lovemaking later in the evening. The potion would kick in, and Ron had even planned to make dinner, sap that he was.
"How does lasagne sound?" Ron asked, massaging his thumbs into Draco's temples and using his Healer's sensibilities to try and detect if Draco had an actual malady.
Draco shuddered. "I couldn't eat a thing. In fact, I may just take a soak and get this smell off of me and go to bed."
Ron sat up straight. "It's barely seven!"
"So? I feel wretched. We don't have anything planned, do we?"
Uncomfortable realisation prickled under Ron's skin. Draco hadn't remembered. Bollocks, he was an idiot.
"No. You go on," he said, masking his disappointment. "Tomorrow's another day."
"You're so good to me," Draco sighed as he got up gracefully from the floor and went up the stairs.
Ron was pissed off, and lonely, with a side of horniness that wouldn't leave him. If he were back home he'd owl George and convince him to go out for a few pints, if he and Remus weren't busy. Ron was stuck in New York, though, and he didn’t really know anybody. He stewed for a while, tried to read a Quidditch magazine he'd found in a small wizarding newsagent's, and finally broke down and tromped upstairs.
True to his word, Draco was sound asleep. Dejected, Ron went back downstairs and poured a healthy tumbler of firewhiskey before going out on their side porch with a new pack of cigarettes. After smoking several in a row, he contemplated writing to Hermione, but recognised that would only make him feel even more pathetic. He could only imagine what he'd write in his current state before surely burning the parchment.
He rolled his eyes and went back in the kitchen to retrieve the firewhiskey bottle. At some point in the night when the contents and his cigarettes were all gone, he stumbled back into the house and passed out on the couch.
***
Ron awoke to the smell of coffee. He rubbed his eyes and then his teeth. His mouth felt disgusting, tasting roughly as though he'd spent several hours polishing Quidditch trophies with his tongue. As he gingerly hauled himself to a sitting position, a note that had been perched on his chest fell to the floor. Bracing himself, he picked it up.
He dropped the note.
"And just when was I supposed to do that, when you fucking went to bed at 7:30?" Ron fumed out loud, screwing up his face as a headache overtook him. "Of course, if you'd wanted to go out, you would have managed that, I'm sure. Ooooh." A wave of nausea churned in his stomach as he got to his feet and shuffled toward the kitchen.
An hour and a very hot shower later he felt much more human. Even though he was still outraged at Draco's audacity to tell him he smelled bad, especially when he'd slept downstairs, he grudgingly allowed a small sliver of appreciation to flicker. The man could make a really effective hangover potion.
Unbidden, he heard a voice in his head that sounded distressingly like Hermione.
'Ronald Weasley, you're moping. Get over to one of those hospitals and go do something, for goodness' sake.'
He mulled the thought over and decided that it - or she, whichever - had a point. He was beginning to feel useless, and, sons of selkies, he had two specialised degrees in Dark Arts Healing. It was all fine and good to hang out and relax, or be a tourist, but enough was enough. He'd brought a couple of letters from St. Mungo's that would validate his Healer status just in case, so after eating some breakfast, he retrieved them from a folder he'd shoved under the bed and went out.
***
Ron Muggle-watched as he took the train to Central Park West. The very concept of public transport was fascinating, and the fact that around one-third of the people on the trains looked as though they could be Tonks in various disguises amused him to no end. He glanced surreptitiously at this wizarding guidebook, cleverly glamoured as some spoof on a favourite Muggle book, entitled Bored of the Rings, and confirmed he was at the right stop. Once above ground, he made his way to a tired-looking haberdashers shop and rang the antique doorbell.
"Name?" a nasal voice chirruped out of the ancient speaker.
"Weasley. Ronald-"
"Right. Badge'll be waiting. Guest pass."
"Healer, Order of Merlin, First Class, Specialty, Dark Arts Hexes," died on Ron's lips as he was cut off. He shrugged and entered the shop.
The New York Center for Calamities and Convalescence was everything and nothing like St. Mungo's. Healers sat typing at computers and bustling down corridors, ducking when manilla folders flew past them.
"Ah! Weasley. Persephone will be happy to see you," an enthusiastic medi-receptionst gushed, obviously misguided as to who Ron was.
"Um, but, I'm not-"
"Just that way, Mr. Weasley!"
"But no-one's expect-"
"She's on the second floor, room 211. Go on; the young lady hasn't had much company and you know how painful that skele-grow is."
Ron nodded mutely. He might as well go and see whoever this mysterious Persephone person was and then he could meet the head of the hospital and see if they could use his services for the next few months. He walked to a door with a picture of a staircase and climbed the one flight to the second level. Bone Injuries. After a false start down the corridor, he turned around until he came to room 211. The door was open, so Ron peered inside.
A girl of around 13 lay on a bed, her left hand holding a squat comic book and her right arm bundled in bandages, tied in a sling against her stomach. One leg was bent, held in a cast and magically suspended in the air about a foot above the coverlet. Her copper-coloured hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was absolutely covered in freckles. Ron glanced at the chart stuck in a tray adhered to the wall as his jaw dropped.
"Hey!" The girl had turned to Ron and she grinned widely, revealing a couple of missing teeth. "Are you Uncle Baxter? Never met him, but Dad's talked about you before. C'mon in. I'm bored. This is the fifth time I've read this manga, I swear," she said with a sigh, dropping the book.
Ron forced his feet to move into the room and pulled up a chair.
"Persephone Weasley?" he asked weakly.
"Seph, thanks. Persephone's such an awful name. I hate it," she mused, gnawing on her lower lip. "D'you play Quidditch too? My mom went absolutely ballistic when I fell. Threatened not to let me play ever again. But I'd just die if I couldn't play, y'know? It's just so unfair. I mean, it's not like it's my fault, stupid Sean, thinking he has to impress everybody until he runs smack into you..."
Ron let the diatribe tumble over him. Obviously she was some very, very distant relation, but his parents had never said anything about having family outside of England.
"Hey. You're not from here, are you? Did you come all the way to New York to see me? That'd be excellent." Persephone looked expectantly at him and Ron took a deep breath.
"Seph, is it? My name's Ron. Ron Weasley, and I'm definitely not your Uncle Baxter, whoever that is. Nice to meet you."
He stuck out his hand before realising that she couldn't really shake in return, then decided to make a small salute instead.
"I'm a Healer, but I'm here because my," he fished around for an appropriate word, "good friend, also a Wizard, is in cooking school. I'm from England, and until just now, I didn't know about you. Given the name and the freckles and all, we must be related. And yes, I love Quidditch; played Keeper for my House back in school."
"Cool," she said, awestruck. "I've never been to England. How long are you and your friend here? If we're related, do you want to meet my parents? I've never met anyone else with my last name before. That's awesome."
Ron tried to absorb the barrage of information and answer appropriately.
"I'd love to meet your parents. I'm here for six months at least. I don't know any other Weasleys other than my relations back home. What on Merlin's beard is manga?"
The word was completely unfamiliar to him.
"You don't know about Manga? Oh yeah- you're old," she giggled in a manner reminiscent of a young Ginny. "Japanese stuff. You read it their way, back to front and right to left. It's excellent. Just not so much when you've read the same storyline five times." She picked up the book and handed it to Ron. "Go on, you can borrow it. So you're a Healer? Don't suppose you deal with broken bones."
He shook his head, smiling. "No, my specialty is hexes and curses, Dark ones. Do you know much about that? I mean, I hope not, but I've only been here a few weeks and things seem to be awfully different than-"
"Ronald B. Weasley, I presume?"
An authoritative voice bellowed from the doorframe and both Weasleys turned to see who had interrupted them. Ron nodded at the sturdy witch as she strode into the room, her manner all business. "Ah. Sorry about the misunderstanding, but you can imagine how busy things get at a hospital this size. So, you're looking to assist our other D.A. Healers, are you?"
"Yes," Ron affirmed. "I've got my papers. Just didn't expect to discover family across the pond, as it were." He stood, winked at Persephone, and faced the head of the hospital. "I'm here for the next few months, and while there's plenty to see in the city, I'd rather not be a tourist the whole time. You may not have the same need for healers with my focus, as was the case at St. Mungo's, but I'd be more than happy to share what I can with your staff, if that's appropriate."
The witch-Jane Rueland, Chief Administrator, NYCCC, according to her badge- gave Ron a once-over, her hazel eyes boring into him. "Certainly. We're fortunate in that most of the maladies you'll see here are pretty pedestrian, but I'm sure we can put you to work. Can you be back here tomorrow at eleven?"
Ron nodded. "Will you give me a nametag now, or should I ask for you tomorrow?"
A badge materialised in her palm. "Done, Weasley. Just fill out a few parchments with the receptionist at the entrance level." She briskly left the room.
"Well, I guess I'll go and see if I can get a tour of this place," Ron said. "It was an unexpected pleasure to meet you, Seph. And thanks for letting me borrow the Magna."
"Manga," Persephone chortled. "Mahn-guh. Oh- let me give you our number. I can't wait to tell Dad that I met another Weasley, and one all the way from England!"
Ron retrieved a pen from his jacket pocket. He and Draco had gotten used to Muggle things like pens and notepads in their few weeks in New York, though Ron still wasn't all that good with the telephone. Persephone dictated her phone number then looked at it herself just to make sure he'd written it down properly.
"They'll release me tomorrow, so call anytime after that."
"I definitely will. Maybe you can even show me some of your Quidditch moves."
Persephone's face lit up. "Excellent. If my mom will let me." She screwed up her mouth into a grimace. "Sometimes she treats me like I'm still a baby or something."
Ron grinned. "Mothers can be like that. Anyway, take care."
"Bye!"
After making his way back to the original entrance, Ron filled out some paperwork and was given an extensive tour of the hospital, which took almost two hours. He spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around Chinatown before heading home. He caught himself humming a tune he'd heard multiple times on the radio when he unlocked the door to their house. He felt better than he had in days, now that he had something to look forward to with his daytime hours.
"Oy! What?" An unfamiliar owl tapped at the glass door to the porch, so he let it in. The bird swooped to Ron's hand before dropping a small bit of parchment. "Thanks." He scratched absently at the owl's head as he looked at the note.
Ron mulled over the notice. It was quarter to six already, but that still gave him plenty of time to get to the restaurant since it was only a few blocks away. He went into the kitchen and found some leftover turkey to give to the owl, which hooted appreciatively before leaving. Evidently he hadn't been told to take back a reply.
Forty-five minutes later Ron was walking into the café. Draco was easy enough to spot, despite having his head buried in a wine list. He looked up as Ron sat down, apology written all over his face.
"Ron. I'm so glad you came," Draco said, putting down the listing and clutching Ron's hands in is. "I'm such a fucking idiot. Please forgive me."
"For what?" Ron was pretty sure why Draco was falling all over himself with guilt, but he wanted to make sure.
"Our one year anniversary. It was yesterday and I didn't do a bloody thing. I'm so sorry."
A warm smile bloomed on Ron's face. "Apology accepted. Remind me to show you something when we get home." He glanced at the list. "Find anything good?"
"Definitely."
As if on cue, a waiter appeared. Draco removed his hands from Ron's to hand back the list as he gave his order.
Ron raised his eyebrows. "Champagne?"
"Of course. We're celebrating."
"I'm glad you want to. Oh! You'll never believe what I found out at the NYCCC today."
Draco looked blankly at him. "The what?"
"New York Center for Calamities and Convalescence. Hospital. Thanks."
The last word was directed at their server, who had returned with what appeared to be an expensive bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two fluted glasses.
"To a year and a day together," Draco toasted once their glasses were filled.
"To our first year and a day," Ron specified, buoyed by Draco's obvious contentment.
They sat for a couple of minutes in silence, admiring each other. Ron knew that Draco was equally surprised at their getting together, much less moving in together, and now living overseas. They each had their faults, to be sure, and many of their friends from Hogwarts were skeptical to the point of disbelief. Still, despite a few blow ups, usually family-centric, they'd had a pretty marvelous year as far as relationships went.
"Wait- why were you at a hospital? Did something happen?" Draco was suddenly worried. "I hadn't you out like you were this morning in ages."
"No, no. I was fine." Ron felt a little sheepish. "Just had a bit of a pity party when you went to bed without saying anything." He shrugged it off. "No, I'm going to help out the Healers over there; give me something to do."
Draco nodded approvingly and refilled their glasses.
"Not only that," Ron went on, "but when I first showed up, they thought I was there to see someone. I managed to find another Weasley family, can you believe it?"
Draco choked. "You're joking," he coughed as the waiter approached with a menu. "Ron," Draco wheezed, getting his breath, "why don't you order an appetizer."
"Okay."
Soon they were alone again.
"You didn't know they were here, did you?" Draco asked more calmly.
"Bollocks, no," Ron said, grinning. "It's pretty great, though. Persephone was who I met, probably fourteen, but I'm no good at guessing. I'm going to ring them tomorrow, and send a letter to Dad. He'll be bonkers, since he likes family trees and all that."
"I shouldn't even ask what she looks like."
"Not like us, really, though she has the freckles, poor sod." Ron played with the stem of his glass, thinking affectionately of his distant, unexpected relation.
"That's wonderful," Draco said with a small smile.
"What- that she doesn't look like us?" Ron feigned insult as a platter of steaming oysters appeared and was placed on the table.
"No, you paranoid git. That you're in one of the largest cities in the world and you managed to stumble across family you didn't even know about. Now maybe you won't feel so homesick." Draco eyed the oysters before raising an approving gaze to Ron's. "And I must say that I'm obviously making a positive impact on you, food-wise. Excellent choice."
"Thanks," Ron said, tucking into the shellfish. "And I'm not homesick. Just need to get a routine. Hey- we should go to that next match, too. The New York Squall are playing the Albatrosses."
Draco rolled his eyes. "But Ron, they're excruciating to watch."
"They're not that bad," Ron insisted, his eyes drawn to Draco's mouth as he delicately sucked in an oyster. "You and I could sure teach them a thing or too, though."
"Now that's the truth," Draco said, a competitive gleam in his eye. "Are you going to eat that last oyster?"
They decided to stay for what was a sumptuous dinner, and even had a bottle of wine when the champagne ran out. By the time they got home, Ron was in a very excellent mood. He and Draco weren't usually much for public affection, but Draco had snagged Ron's arm to duck into two shady alleys on their walk back for short but ferocious snogging sessions.
"Where're you going?" Draco asked accusingly once they were in the kitchen.
"Porch. Quick smoke."
"You know how much I hate that you do that. Ugh. Filthy habit."
"Yes, I know," Ron countered. "I'll give it up, I promise. Especially now that I'll be at the hospital. But for now, cut me just a little slack." He pulled Draco to him and planted a deep kiss on his pouting lips. "Just go on upstairs and I'll join you in a few minutes."
Draco moved away as Ron retrieved a pack of cigarettes from a drawer.
"Don't take too long. I've been thinking about you all day." Draco gave Ron a lascivious look before running his hands suggestively over his groin.
"I won't," Ron promised. "Especially if I know you'll be doing that without your trousers on. Merlin, but you're sexy as hell. Not to mention like you look like you need to be shagged." Changing his mind, Ron dropped the pack on the counter. "I'll smoke later," he growled as Draco smirked. "You're just too tempting to have standing there like that."
"Of course I am."
They rapidly managed the stairs, shedding their clothes in their bedroom until they were both clad only in their boxers.
"What was it you wanted to show me?" Draco asked, kissing around Ron's neck and tweaking his nipples, making Ron emit a needy moan.
"Oh yeah," Ron said, covering Draco's hands with his own. "That. Not that I want you to stop what you're doing, but let me turn around."
Draco let out a gasp. "Merlin! Ron, it's… I…"
Ron felt Draco's fingers trace the dragon on his skin.
"It's beautiful," Draco said in an awed voice. "I can't believe you did this."
"D'you like it?" Ron was suddenly afraid that his gesture was too much and he hunched his shoulders forward, caving slightly in on himself.
"Oh Ron. How could I not?" The fingers continued caressing Ron's back, and he felt Draco move closer before he breathed gently over the tattoo. "So beautiful," Draco murmured into Ron's skin. He moved his arms around to embrace Ron at the waist, entwining his hands at Ron's navel.
"You must be talking to Drake," Ron said ruefully.
Draco's hands splayed downward and snuck under the waistband of Ron's boxers.
"No. Both of you," he whispered as Ron felt Draco's tongue tenderly trace the outline of the white dragon.
Ron had spent a goodly amount of time watching it in a mirror, seeing it move around some, mostly stretching its wings and occasionally belching fire.
"What's he doing?"
Draco chuckled hotly as his hands grasped Ron's burgeoning erection. Ron let his head fall back so it was next to Draco's, as he reveled in the erotic sensations being bestowed on him.
"I think he's purring. A gorgeous, white dragon. Merlin, Ron." Draco began pulling on Ron's arousal, longer downward motions to swifter upsweeps, the way he knew Ron toyed with himself when alone. "Does this mean you-"
The unasked question mingled with the sound of their heavy breathing. Ron stood languorously in his lover's arms with such nimble hands. He didn't know what to say. He was grateful that Draco continued to plant a flurry of kisses around the tattoo while still fisting Ron, anchoring himself on the floor by shoving up as tightly behind Ron as he could.
"I'm piss-poor at words," Ron said, reaching behind him to grasp at Draco's taut arse. "But yeah, it definitely means a lot. A lot about how I feel about you. And us."
Ron felt the slick sweeps of Draco's tongue change course to the tip of Ron's spine where he gave fervent nips.
"I adore you," Draco said in a husky voice once he nestled around to Ron's ear. "And I'm awed by the gesture." He moved one hand below Ron's erection, teasing the skin behind his sensitive balls. "No one has ever done anything like that for me before."
Ron shuddered as a jolt of pleasure coursed from his groin where his lover's talented finger stroked further back, rubbing toward his arse. "Really?" he moaned as his cock was abandoned, only to find two of Draco's tangy-scented digits in his mouth, which Ron suckled with ferocity.
"Never."
Draco's tongue dipped into Ron's ear, sending another current of lust reeling through him. "I got us a toy to commemorate our first year. Let me use it as just one way to show you how much you mean to me."
"Fuck, Draco, anything," Ron said as he was wheeled around before his mouth was plundered by Draco's tongue. Before Draco, Ron hadn't understood the sensual power of kissing. For that matter, until his intimacies with Draco, Ron had been woefully unaware of myriad sensual avenues; his few former partners decidedly lacked anything resembling Draco's flair and erotic prowess.
"Anything, Ron?" Draco asked with a prurient licking of his lips.
"Well, you know. Almost anything."
"Just checking. Strip and get on the bed so I can have my wicked, hedonistic way with you."
Ron quickly obliged. He was up for almost anything that involved Draco and sex. Despite it all, he couldn't garner the nerve for full-on-Draco-buried-in-him with anything but his fingers. Though those experiences, with Draco's skill, had given Ron the most intense orgasms he'd ever known. Moments later Ron found himself spreadeagle, tied securely but lovingly to their bed. The 'toy' appeared to be a harness thing separating his cock and sacs.
"Merlin, Draco, you're evil," Ron rumbled, his body succumbing to nearly painful thresholds of pleasure. All he could do was writhe unsuccessfully against his multiple restraints as Draco chuckled around a nipple. He bit the hard nub before teasingly biting down Ron's abdomen, a zealous cartographer mapping a beloved land.
Draco licked, massaged, gently breached, even tickled, lavishing what seemed like agonising hours of attentions to every erogenous part of Ron's body save his cock. When he was finally sucked into Draco's inviting mouth, Ron thrust only twice before yelling shamelessly. The rush of passion jerked out of him as he arched up as high as he could, almost dislodging Draco despite being firmly planted between Ron's open legs.
For several minutes all Ron could do was lie there, his heart gasping and heart racing as though he'd been almost drowned and then suddenly tossed onto land.
"Oh holy Merlin," he said eventually, raising his head to look at Draco through the sweaty red curtain of fringe in his eyes. "That was the most fucking unbelievable thing I've ever felt."
Draco sat back on his heels, trailing a finger through a stray bit of pearly fluid. He fixed a possessive chiromancer's gaze at his hand before sucking the finger between his swollen lips, quirking a sage smile at Ron's mostly suppressed whimper in response.
"Why, thank you. I do rather enjoy giving mind-blowing sex."
Still bound, Ron watched avidly as Draco patted around the disheveled mess of sheets for their lubricant. He took himself in hand and brought himself quickly to climax, the intense grey eyes not leaving Ron's face until his orgasm pulsed through him.
"Draco," Ron said hoarsely, watching his lover's pale heaving chest, "you're amazing."
Draco let out a long, sated sigh, wiping his hand on the sheet with the shadow of a grimace. "Yes, I am. Now let's get cleaned up and go to bed. I feel like I could sleep for a week."
The constraints were removed. Ron got up gingerly, his body drained from the intensity of their coupling. They brushed their teeth and went to the toilet in turns, soon lying in each other's arms and looking drowsily at one another.
"Turn over so I can see your gorgeous little love creature again," Draco said, smiling softly.
Ron obliged, and felt Draco nuzzle his shoulder and soon dozed off, holding Draco's hand across his chest.
***
Ron went to the hospital the next day and spent much of it introducing himself to the staff and even looking in on two patients who were most of the way through some complicated hex-removal procedures. The treatments and their magical applications seemed very similar, though the actual style of the Healers was a far cry from the more staid company Ron was used to at St. Mungo's. Not only that, but it being New York City, the staff at NYCCC were far more cosmopolitan and came from all of the country- even the world. He discovered they even had a thriving internship program which he decided he definitely needed to write to St. Mungo's about. Merlin knew that his early attempts at good bedside manners with his first few patients mightn't have been so embarrassing if he'd had more occasions to see Healers at work.
Once back at home, armed with Hermione's tidy notes, he got ready to try reaching Persephone by phone in the hopes of meeting up on Saturday. Draco was going to be tied up all day in what sounded like a tedious sauce-making seminar, so Ron was glad to have something else to do. He'd grown rather fond of their wide-screen television, but the prospect of getting out and doing some socialising that didn't require him putting on his 'ponce pants' as Draco called them (of course, Draco usually wouldn't let Ron go clubbing without wearing the one pair of leather trousers that he had) was very appealing.
He dialed, and waited until Persephone answered. They chatted briefly, then she gave him directions to their house.
"Just take the Chimera line to stop 22. We're on Hyacinth Park, catty-corner from the bus stop, house 942. You'll see a big hedge and a bright green fire hydrant- they've just painted them, it's pretty funny- just tap your wand on the top and you'll be able to see our street."
"The what line?" Maybe Ron wasn't so good at using Muggle technology. "I think I'd know if I saw that on my public transport map."
"Oh!" Persephone giggled. "Not the covite bus, the Wizard bus."
"Covite?"
"Y'know. People without magic."
"We call them Muggles."
"That's weird."
Ron snorted. "Okay. Now you've just got to tell me how to find the Wizard bus. I'm pretty good with the Muggle routes."
"Go to Grand Central Station, to the bus terminals, lower level. There's a set of turnstiles near the ticketing windows; just go through the one furthest to your left, next to the wall mural. Then you'll be in our bus area." She leaned on the 'our' for emphasis, making Ron smile. "The rest is really obvious."
"Sounds brilliant. I'll be there around two o'clock, then?"
"Excellent!" she chirped. "See you Saturday."
***
The weekend arrived. Initially rebuffed, Ron cajoled Draco into a deliciously satisfying shag. He didn't want anything elaborate, but Ron did tend to wake up at least semi-erect. Morning Draco was less guarded, hair rumpled and often cranky, but of all times of day, that was when he was most affectionate. Draco had made a warning growling sound when Ron first trailed his hand down Draco's abdomen to nestle his fingers in the dark gold curls of his groin. Ron was gently tenacious, and rewarded as his lover gave in with an exasperated sigh.
"You and morning sex," he said, shaking his head and looking at Ron with slightly puffy eyes. "It's as though you think frottage is a daily fortifier or something."
Ron had gotten the lubricant Draco made exclusively for their use and lay back down on his side, stroking his lover's cock. "It's way too early for you to be using words I don't know."
Draco let out a cooing sound of pleasure as Ron, with a well-oiled hand, took their erections and began fisting them together slowly.
"Frottage," Draco said a bit breathlessly, giving attention to Ron's hard nipples. "Rubbing. Grinding. This. Oh Merlin, and you're so good at it."
"Thanks."
They thrust against each other, Ron giving Draco a couple of kisses on the side of his lightly-stubbled face. One thing he'd learned when they began spending the night together was that there was absolutely no mouth-to-mouth kissing with Draco until the blond had brushed his teeth. No exceptions.
A short while later, a satisfied Draco was getting a shower. After lounging in the bed for a few minutes, rather smugly relishing the pleasure of his own release, Ron got up and went to make coffee. Draco went off to the Institute for the day and Ron puttered around the house until noon. He didn't really know how long it would take to get to the Weasleys, and he figured better early than late. Armed with Persephone's directions, an assemblage of Muggle and Wizard money, and the manga, he left the flat.
***
***
The time flew by. Ron grew more comfortable at the hospital, and was even asked to function as the primary Healer for a rather exotic case, yet another duelling curse. Everything the wizard said and wrote was backward, so figuring out what he'd been hit by was only the first of many challenges. Using some of what he'd learned from his experience with Draco's persona immunata, Ron spent several days trying to invert the man's magic. Even when the wizard was able, albeit very slowly, to incant lumos, rather than the candle lighting, one nearby went out instead. There was an extensive library that Ron decided to visit to do research into more North American-centric spells and hexes. That combined with several weeks of creative spell-casting and some very helpful comments by a willowy intern who seemed to have formed an unrequited crush on him, and the wizard was able to return to his estate.
Ron and Draco hosted a few get-togethers of varying degrees of formality. Unsurprisingly, the Weasleys came over first, a couple of weeks after Ron had gone to visit them. Philip looked a bit surprised at Draco, even though Ron had been upfront that he was in the States with a male companion. Then again, Ron decided he was under no obligation to defend or even discuss his sexuality if he didn't want to. At least until the Weasleys were about to leave. Ron was giving Seph a quick personal tour of the flat, mostly to show her some pictures of his family. She squealed when she saw the twins in an older picture taken from their Egyptian holiday.
"Oh! They're cute!" she gushed. Fred and George winked at the camera before turning to look knowingly at each other and back to the photographer.
"I wouldn't say that- bit of a bloody nightmare, really," Ron said. "But good blokes deep down. It's just George now, though. They had- well, George runs it now- a really brilliant jokeshop. Completely out of the blue before the last War, Death Eaters attacked them, of all people. Fred didn't make it."
"I'm so sorry. That must've been really sad." Persephone put the picture carefully on the side table.
"Yeah. George's doing okay, but it's still weird seeing just him without Fred." He followed her gaze to another picture, this one on Draco's side of the bed. It was of the two of them, lounging in a pub booth, Ron's arm draped over Draco's shoulder. The picture-Draco had a sly grin on his face, glancing over to Ron and back.
"Mmmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "You two are together. Like together together."
Ron felt a faint flush start at his neck. "Yes, we are."
She made another contemplative noise.
"Does that bother you?" Ron asked as they left the room.
"Ron, I read manga. Shounen ai manga," she said, as though that should make everything perfectly clear. "And I have an idea." She turned and Ron recognised a very twin-reminiscent impish expression on her face. "Will you give me your address again?"
He wrote it down for her and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley thanked Draco profusely for the stunning meal he'd concocted.
"Any time," he drawled. "It's been a delightful evening." He took Persephone's hand and kissed it, at which point she turned scarlet. "Please do come again."
Once the door was shut Draco collapsed on the sofa.
"You're not about to say something rude, are you?" Ron warned, thinking Draco had been laying it on a bit thick there at the end.
"No, Ron, I'm not," Draco said indignantly. "But I would like to have Cassandra, some of her friends and some of the more tolerable gents from the Institute over."
"Fine with me," Ron said affably, sitting next to Draco. "Just set a date and I'll make sure the flat's clean."
"Such a good house husband." Draco patted Ron's thigh and smiled warmly at him.
"I may have to kick your arse right about now."
"I can think of better things you could do to it."
The cleaning was put off until the morning.
***
A few days later, Ron heard the doorbell ring. He opened the door to see a befuddled looking man wearing a blue uniform with the acronym USWP stitched on the pocket in gold. He had a mid-sized package in his hand.
"Ron Weasley?" he asked, looking at the glittery purple writing on the box and back up at Ron.
"Yeah. Who're you?"
"Wizarding Post. Just never delivered anything here before. Please sign this." He shoved a parchment with dozens of lines on it and handed Ron a utilitarian quill. "Line twenty-seven."
Ron scrawled his signature as legibly as he could and accepted the parcel. "Thanks."
He went inside, investigating the art on the outside. It was from Seph, no doubt there, gaily addressed and with a couple of drawings of the characters in the manga comic she'd let him borrow. Inside were three more books and a note on pink paper so vivid it hurt his eyes to read it. "SEPH" winked in and out at the top of the page.
A few smiley faces rolled across the note.
A frowny face blinked sadly.
With no small amount of intrigue, Ron lifted one of the books of manga and began flipping through it. The first difference he noticed was that it must be wizarding manga. The illustrations, far more realistic than the one he'd borrowed before, were moving.
And-
"Bloody hell!"
After recovering from the shock that this was adult, in no uncertain terms, he started to laugh. Then he realised he was getting turned on by looking at it.
"Well," he said to himself, taking the package upstairs, "I'm up for a wank."
He grinned at his bad pun.
That evening he sat out on the porch, having an illicit cigarette after dinner when Draco charged outside.
"What the fuck is this?" he demanded, waving the comic at Ron, his grey eyes wide.
"What does it look like?" It was all Ron could do to keep from laughing at the flabbergasted look on Draco's face.
"I don't bloody know!"
Ron crushed out the cigarette. "Manga. Adult manga. Thank-you gift from Seph."
Draco looked incredulously at the cartoon men on the cover, half-dressed and provocatively nuzzling each other.
"You mean that a fourteen year old set you a comic book of gay porn?!"
"Never underestimate a Weasley, no matter where you find them."
Draco tentatively turned a few pages. "Oh gods. They're... that's..."
"Really hot," Ron said suggestively in his lover's ear. "Let's go read some, shall we?"
He tugged at Draco and they wandered back into the house to the couch.
"There's something not right with Weasleys, no matter where you find them," Draco muttered.
"Oh, don't be a prude, Mr. 'I Buy Things in Sex Stores.' It's even got a plotline, too."
Draco arched an eyebrow. "Really."
"Sure, but that's not why you read it."
"No, I wouldn't think so."
"Shut up and start at the beginning."
***
To be continued, of course. And let the angst begin…
fungus_files, who wanted to make sure that I was around. I've been quiet on LJ because I haven't had much of worth to say (though I am looking forward both to Hypericon and the Assrune Moot! WOO!!) and I've been doing other stuff; mostly writing of all kinds: letters and fic. T., wrote you again this morning- your Mum is going to wonder what on earth has happened when you keep getting letters from me. :P And snottygrrl, your lil package went out yesterday. I've been emailing with euclase and llembas (though I definitely owe you one back) about the Moot, working on a CD compilation of my own, and I mowed the lawn. Not necessarily in that order.So- now I'm at work, listening to John's CD compilation, doing data entry which is pretty much all I do in the summer, but hey- it's air conditioned and 4 days a week through July. So, more on the Ron/Draco WiP titled "The Ties that Bind." The first part is here in case you're interested, though it's gone through a bunch of changes since I posted it. Me, I hate WsIP. But aside from the really dark R/S I wrote last weekend, this is what I've been working on, and I'm having waaaaay too much fun with it and cross-referencing other stories as well as regular life. And adult manga. LOL. So here's the whole thing as it stands currently. Oh, and it's adult, too. Be warned of smut. ;)
The Ties That Bind
Started May 2005
Ron breathed deeply of the delicious smell of morning.
Delicious in that he was still in bed, head buried under the covers, ensconced in a cozy cocoon still fragrant with alder tree oil. The distinctive aroma evoked thoughts of Quidditch, broom polish, and sex, since it was in the lubricant that his partner made exclusively for their use. Ron closed his eyes, stretching his legs and flexing his feet with a yawn. Rolling over on his side, he began to drift off again, burying his face in his lover’s pillow.
“Ron! What the hell are you doing? Get your bony, horrifically late arse up. NOW!”
Fuck. In his somnifacient stupor, Ron had completely forgotten that today was the day he and Draco were taking Muggle transport - an airplane, to be exact - to go to New York City so Draco could take an intensive 6-month culinary course.
The coverlet was yanked down, leaving Ron exposed and blinking owlishly in the sudden light. Draco glowered above him.
“You should be showered and dressed by now,” he seethed. “Granger will be here in half an hour. I knew I had good cause to make you pack last week.”
“Bollocks! Sorry, Draco.” With the grace of a drunken hippogriff, Ron disentangled his legs from the sheets and stumbled to a standing position. “I’ll get cleaned up and I swear I’ll be ready to go on time.”
Draco scowled, looking utterly unconvinced. “You’d better. I refuse to be alone with Granger, Mistress of Muggle Studies, listening to her blather on about what I need to know as though I’m a troglodyte.”
“Troglowhat?” Ron said as he shucked his boxers and walked quickly to their bathroom.
“Never mind. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Twenty-nine minutes and fifty seconds later, Ron stood at the base of the stairs, eyeing the collection of luggage in disbelief. Most were elegant, slate-coloured cases embossed with D.A.M. in silver.
“Um, are you sure you want to haul all of that around?” Ron asked. “We’ve already sent heaps of stuff over there.”
“I’m not hauling anything,” Draco replied scornfully. “There are porters to do that. Cassandra assured me of that weeks ago.”
Draco’s second cousin on his mother’s side was a witch living in New York who had agreed to help the two settle in once they arrived in the city. As dreadfully fond of Draco as he was, Ron was a bit apprehensive about meeting more of Draco’s extended family. Even their impending one-year anniversary didn’t make him feel any more secure.
“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Ron said as convincingly as he could.
“No, you’re not. That’s okay- you’ll end up liking her regardless. She’s a relation on Mother’s side, after all.” Draco fidgeted with the links on his watch, brows furrowed. “Granger’s late.”
Ron walked over to Draco and ran his fingers through the silky hair, earning an irritated growl for his trouble.
“She’ll be here any second,” Ron said, cradling Draco’s head and tilting it up slightly until Draco grudgingly raised his gaze to meet Ron’s. “You’re right about Cassandra, though. I reckon she’ll think you’re just having some low-class fling. As long as that’s not what you think.”
The imminent reality of moving to another country with Draco, even temporarily, has loosened Ron’s tongue, though he hated how insecure he sounded.
Draco’s expression warmed. “I don’t always know what to call this.” He gestured vaguely at the house they shared. “But fling is certainly not what comes to mind.” He put his arms around Ron’s waist before sliding them down to cup Ron’s arse. “I’m far too fond of this part of you to surrender it anytime soon. And besides.”
Ron tilted his head as Draco nuzzled the side of his neck, moving his own hands so they were clasped behind Draco’s waist.
“Two things to know about Malfoys, in case your Healer-addled brain hadn’t picked up on these subtleties,” Draco murmured into Ron’s skin. “One, we have exceedingly refined senses. Ron, you simply smell right to me. End of discussion. Two, a Malfoy would never dare to do anything even resembling slumming in his personal relations. We are rather exclusive, after all."
If Draco had intended to say anything further, it was silenced as Ron possessively kissed him. All his life, Ron had suffered through hand-me-downs, living constantly in the shadows of his older brothers and even his dearest friends. It was surely ironic that Draco Malfoy would be the first person to want to claim Ron for his own. As Draco’s enthusiastic tongue mapped out mine, mine, mine in Ron’s willing mouth, the redhead decided it didn’t matter how they’d gotten together. It only mattered that they had.
There was a loud rapping at the door.
"Hermione."
"Granger."
The words were voiced in tandem against each other's mouths.
Ron slid his lips across Draco's cheek to his earlobe. "It's going to be okay," he said reassuringly.
"I've no doubt."
Draco pulled away and reverted to his public persona, complete with a slightly bored expression.
"I…" Ron's voice trailed off. Draco could shutter his intimate emotions away on the turn of a knut in a way completely foreign to Ron, and it annoyed him. Well, wounded was more accurate, but Merlin that sounded girly. Malfoys might be elegant and private, but Weasleys tended to wear their hearts on their sleeves. Ron suddenly wished they weren't going anywhere.
As though he could read Ron's mind, Draco quickly returned to Ron's side and snaked an arm around his waist.
"We're going to be okay," he said in a low voice, and Ron smiled gratefully.
"Ron? Malfoy?" Hermione's anxious voice could be heard outside.
The usual dispassionate look returned to Draco's voice as he opened the door.
"Granger. Lovely to see you, as always."
Ron inwardly winced at the relative insincerity in his voice. Hermione and Draco tolerated each other, but Ron had become resigned to the fact that they would never be friends.
"Hi Hermione. Thanks for doing this," Ron said, enfolding her in a hug.
"Anything for you," she said pointedly. Behind her back, Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste.
Thankfully the ride to the airport was uneventful, if a bit tense. After rushed goodbyes and Ron promising to owl or write at least once a month, Draco and Ron made their way to the appropriate lounge.
We're really going, Ron thought in amazement, trying not to stare at the gaggle of people around him. Merlin do I hope this isn't a massive mistake.
***
Though Ron was sure Draco wouldn't have cared much for the image, Draco took to New York like a duck to water, especially in regards to its vibrant nightlife. Upon arrival, Cassandra had taken it upon herself to be their guide for as long as Draco and Ron wished. She'd taken them to four clubs in three nights; it would have been even more but Ron insisted that they have at least a couple of evenings to themselves to get situated and send a few notes to friends and, in Ron's case, family, letting them know they had arrived safely and were settling in.
Like Draco, Cassandra was striking in appearance with similar porcelain skin, high cheekbones, but she had long, straight, jet-black hair. Despite not knowing each other very well prior to Draco and Ron's move, the second cousins soon got along like a house on fire, sharing an enthusiasm for dancing and socialising. Ron tried to be game about it, attempting to convince himself that they'd eventually have a balance in pursuits when he talked Draco into attending a match by a fledgling Quidditch team their first Sunday afternoon in the States. To Ron's astonishment, prior to leaving England Draco had even covertly relayed Ron's enthusiasm for sport, and Cassandra had made sure there was a widescreen telly that Ron spent many grateful hours investigating.
There was even some sex, as Ron and Draco christened their bedroom, the vast tub in the bathroom, even against the kitchen counter.
"Preparing food can be as intense as fucking," Draco had insisted, enticing Ron into the half-unpacked room by promising to spend some time wanking for show, a visual treat that Ron found extremely erotic.
"I'll want to be able to think about us in the throes of passion," Draco went on, "you unable to keep your hands off of me, think about your cock-"
"Okay," Ron agreed zealously before a thought struck him. "Just don't be thinking about my bits while you're chopping at things. That's perverse."
Draco had laughed so hard at that Ron had simply been left with no choice but to kiss Draco into submission.
His fourth Wednesday overseas, Ron found himself outside a wizarding tattoo parlour of all places. It was his and Draco's anniversary, at least Ron considered it to be. One year ago they'd had their first official date. Ron had been seeing Draco on a daily basis for the month prior while recalibrating Draco's magic after he'd been hexed during a duel, and that had sparked their interest in each other. Draco spent from 10 o'clock to 6:00 at his culinary school, so Ron had the days to go exploring, investigating both the Muggle and wizarding aspects of the city.
Though it would have surprised most people who knew Ron, Hermione excepted, at his core he was an incurable romantic, not to mention sentimental. Hence the sheepish smile that played on his lips as he finished a cigarette before entering the parlour. He'd been thinking seriously about getting a tattoo since the War had ended, but it wasn't until he and Draco had passed the six month mark that it'd struck him what he wanted to get, and where. He patted a pocket in his jacket and heard the rustling of paper with the printout he'd done that morning. Thanks to Charlie and the Preserve's relatively new online presence on the wizarding internet, his design of a Siberian Snegbog was in colour on paper, ready to be magically inked on his left shoulder blade.
He went in.
***
"Ron, be a dear and get me a glass of wine, will you?" Draco sounded uncommonly tired when he came home later that day. "With a side of ?[author still hasn't named said potion] please. My head's positively throbbing." The door shut behind him.
Ron looked up from the chair where he was sprawled, watching a men's diving competition.
"Sure. Were you working more with that-"
"Don't even say the word." Draco sank dramatically to the floor, looking at Ron with a mournful gaze. "Thank you."
Ron padded into the kitchen and poured them both a glass, smiling a bit at the lingering pain in his back. He didn't know what Draco had in mind for the evening, but he was sure that it would be memorable. Draco never forgot any event of importance, even some that Ron thought were exceedingly trivial, like the blond's first owl's birthday.
"I'll just go get the potion," Ron said, handing one glass to Draco and kissing the crown of his head.
"Ow," Draco moaned.
"Oh c'mon, it can't be that bad."
The grey eyes took on a look of disbelief.
"Okay, fine," Ron acquiesced.
Moments later Ron found himself sitting on the couch behind Draco, gently rubbing his lover's scalp. He decided it wasn't too bad, drinking some wine and listening to soft music, though he was anticipating some intense lovemaking later in the evening. The potion would kick in, and Ron had even planned to make dinner, sap that he was.
"How does lasagne sound?" Ron asked, massaging his thumbs into Draco's temples and using his Healer's sensibilities to try and detect if Draco had an actual malady.
Draco shuddered. "I couldn't eat a thing. In fact, I may just take a soak and get this smell off of me and go to bed."
Ron sat up straight. "It's barely seven!"
"So? I feel wretched. We don't have anything planned, do we?"
Uncomfortable realisation prickled under Ron's skin. Draco hadn't remembered. Bollocks, he was an idiot.
"No. You go on," he said, masking his disappointment. "Tomorrow's another day."
"You're so good to me," Draco sighed as he got up gracefully from the floor and went up the stairs.
Ron was pissed off, and lonely, with a side of horniness that wouldn't leave him. If he were back home he'd owl George and convince him to go out for a few pints, if he and Remus weren't busy. Ron was stuck in New York, though, and he didn’t really know anybody. He stewed for a while, tried to read a Quidditch magazine he'd found in a small wizarding newsagent's, and finally broke down and tromped upstairs.
True to his word, Draco was sound asleep. Dejected, Ron went back downstairs and poured a healthy tumbler of firewhiskey before going out on their side porch with a new pack of cigarettes. After smoking several in a row, he contemplated writing to Hermione, but recognised that would only make him feel even more pathetic. He could only imagine what he'd write in his current state before surely burning the parchment.
- Dear Hermione,
Malfoy forgot our anniversary. Not that we'd said anything about it, and I'm turning into a bloody wank-riffic poof. Was I stupid to get a dragon tattoo? Yeah, that's what I thought. And don't tell me 'I told you so.'
Your hopeless friend,
Ron
He rolled his eyes and went back in the kitchen to retrieve the firewhiskey bottle. At some point in the night when the contents and his cigarettes were all gone, he stumbled back into the house and passed out on the couch.
***
Ron awoke to the smell of coffee. He rubbed his eyes and then his teeth. His mouth felt disgusting, tasting roughly as though he'd spent several hours polishing Quidditch trophies with his tongue. As he gingerly hauled himself to a sitting position, a note that had been perched on his chest fell to the floor. Bracing himself, he picked it up.
- Gone to the Institute- made you some espresso. The hangover potion's next to it. Why didn't you come to bed? Not to be crass, but you smell rather vile. Next time tell me what's wrong, please.
He dropped the note.
"And just when was I supposed to do that, when you fucking went to bed at 7:30?" Ron fumed out loud, screwing up his face as a headache overtook him. "Of course, if you'd wanted to go out, you would have managed that, I'm sure. Ooooh." A wave of nausea churned in his stomach as he got to his feet and shuffled toward the kitchen.
An hour and a very hot shower later he felt much more human. Even though he was still outraged at Draco's audacity to tell him he smelled bad, especially when he'd slept downstairs, he grudgingly allowed a small sliver of appreciation to flicker. The man could make a really effective hangover potion.
Unbidden, he heard a voice in his head that sounded distressingly like Hermione.
'Ronald Weasley, you're moping. Get over to one of those hospitals and go do something, for goodness' sake.'
He mulled the thought over and decided that it - or she, whichever - had a point. He was beginning to feel useless, and, sons of selkies, he had two specialised degrees in Dark Arts Healing. It was all fine and good to hang out and relax, or be a tourist, but enough was enough. He'd brought a couple of letters from St. Mungo's that would validate his Healer status just in case, so after eating some breakfast, he retrieved them from a folder he'd shoved under the bed and went out.
***
Ron Muggle-watched as he took the train to Central Park West. The very concept of public transport was fascinating, and the fact that around one-third of the people on the trains looked as though they could be Tonks in various disguises amused him to no end. He glanced surreptitiously at this wizarding guidebook, cleverly glamoured as some spoof on a favourite Muggle book, entitled Bored of the Rings, and confirmed he was at the right stop. Once above ground, he made his way to a tired-looking haberdashers shop and rang the antique doorbell.
"Name?" a nasal voice chirruped out of the ancient speaker.
"Weasley. Ronald-"
"Right. Badge'll be waiting. Guest pass."
"Healer, Order of Merlin, First Class, Specialty, Dark Arts Hexes," died on Ron's lips as he was cut off. He shrugged and entered the shop.
The New York Center for Calamities and Convalescence was everything and nothing like St. Mungo's. Healers sat typing at computers and bustling down corridors, ducking when manilla folders flew past them.
"Ah! Weasley. Persephone will be happy to see you," an enthusiastic medi-receptionst gushed, obviously misguided as to who Ron was.
"Um, but, I'm not-"
"Just that way, Mr. Weasley!"
"But no-one's expect-"
"She's on the second floor, room 211. Go on; the young lady hasn't had much company and you know how painful that skele-grow is."
Ron nodded mutely. He might as well go and see whoever this mysterious Persephone person was and then he could meet the head of the hospital and see if they could use his services for the next few months. He walked to a door with a picture of a staircase and climbed the one flight to the second level. Bone Injuries. After a false start down the corridor, he turned around until he came to room 211. The door was open, so Ron peered inside.
A girl of around 13 lay on a bed, her left hand holding a squat comic book and her right arm bundled in bandages, tied in a sling against her stomach. One leg was bent, held in a cast and magically suspended in the air about a foot above the coverlet. Her copper-coloured hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was absolutely covered in freckles. Ron glanced at the chart stuck in a tray adhered to the wall as his jaw dropped.
"Hey!" The girl had turned to Ron and she grinned widely, revealing a couple of missing teeth. "Are you Uncle Baxter? Never met him, but Dad's talked about you before. C'mon in. I'm bored. This is the fifth time I've read this manga, I swear," she said with a sigh, dropping the book.
Ron forced his feet to move into the room and pulled up a chair.
"Persephone Weasley?" he asked weakly.
"Seph, thanks. Persephone's such an awful name. I hate it," she mused, gnawing on her lower lip. "D'you play Quidditch too? My mom went absolutely ballistic when I fell. Threatened not to let me play ever again. But I'd just die if I couldn't play, y'know? It's just so unfair. I mean, it's not like it's my fault, stupid Sean, thinking he has to impress everybody until he runs smack into you..."
Ron let the diatribe tumble over him. Obviously she was some very, very distant relation, but his parents had never said anything about having family outside of England.
"Hey. You're not from here, are you? Did you come all the way to New York to see me? That'd be excellent." Persephone looked expectantly at him and Ron took a deep breath.
"Seph, is it? My name's Ron. Ron Weasley, and I'm definitely not your Uncle Baxter, whoever that is. Nice to meet you."
He stuck out his hand before realising that she couldn't really shake in return, then decided to make a small salute instead.
"I'm a Healer, but I'm here because my," he fished around for an appropriate word, "good friend, also a Wizard, is in cooking school. I'm from England, and until just now, I didn't know about you. Given the name and the freckles and all, we must be related. And yes, I love Quidditch; played Keeper for my House back in school."
"Cool," she said, awestruck. "I've never been to England. How long are you and your friend here? If we're related, do you want to meet my parents? I've never met anyone else with my last name before. That's awesome."
Ron tried to absorb the barrage of information and answer appropriately.
"I'd love to meet your parents. I'm here for six months at least. I don't know any other Weasleys other than my relations back home. What on Merlin's beard is manga?"
The word was completely unfamiliar to him.
"You don't know about Manga? Oh yeah- you're old," she giggled in a manner reminiscent of a young Ginny. "Japanese stuff. You read it their way, back to front and right to left. It's excellent. Just not so much when you've read the same storyline five times." She picked up the book and handed it to Ron. "Go on, you can borrow it. So you're a Healer? Don't suppose you deal with broken bones."
He shook his head, smiling. "No, my specialty is hexes and curses, Dark ones. Do you know much about that? I mean, I hope not, but I've only been here a few weeks and things seem to be awfully different than-"
"Ronald B. Weasley, I presume?"
An authoritative voice bellowed from the doorframe and both Weasleys turned to see who had interrupted them. Ron nodded at the sturdy witch as she strode into the room, her manner all business. "Ah. Sorry about the misunderstanding, but you can imagine how busy things get at a hospital this size. So, you're looking to assist our other D.A. Healers, are you?"
"Yes," Ron affirmed. "I've got my papers. Just didn't expect to discover family across the pond, as it were." He stood, winked at Persephone, and faced the head of the hospital. "I'm here for the next few months, and while there's plenty to see in the city, I'd rather not be a tourist the whole time. You may not have the same need for healers with my focus, as was the case at St. Mungo's, but I'd be more than happy to share what I can with your staff, if that's appropriate."
The witch-Jane Rueland, Chief Administrator, NYCCC, according to her badge- gave Ron a once-over, her hazel eyes boring into him. "Certainly. We're fortunate in that most of the maladies you'll see here are pretty pedestrian, but I'm sure we can put you to work. Can you be back here tomorrow at eleven?"
Ron nodded. "Will you give me a nametag now, or should I ask for you tomorrow?"
A badge materialised in her palm. "Done, Weasley. Just fill out a few parchments with the receptionist at the entrance level." She briskly left the room.
"Well, I guess I'll go and see if I can get a tour of this place," Ron said. "It was an unexpected pleasure to meet you, Seph. And thanks for letting me borrow the Magna."
"Manga," Persephone chortled. "Mahn-guh. Oh- let me give you our number. I can't wait to tell Dad that I met another Weasley, and one all the way from England!"
Ron retrieved a pen from his jacket pocket. He and Draco had gotten used to Muggle things like pens and notepads in their few weeks in New York, though Ron still wasn't all that good with the telephone. Persephone dictated her phone number then looked at it herself just to make sure he'd written it down properly.
"They'll release me tomorrow, so call anytime after that."
"I definitely will. Maybe you can even show me some of your Quidditch moves."
Persephone's face lit up. "Excellent. If my mom will let me." She screwed up her mouth into a grimace. "Sometimes she treats me like I'm still a baby or something."
Ron grinned. "Mothers can be like that. Anyway, take care."
"Bye!"
After making his way back to the original entrance, Ron filled out some paperwork and was given an extensive tour of the hospital, which took almost two hours. He spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around Chinatown before heading home. He caught himself humming a tune he'd heard multiple times on the radio when he unlocked the door to their house. He felt better than he had in days, now that he had something to look forward to with his daytime hours.
"Oy! What?" An unfamiliar owl tapped at the glass door to the porch, so he let it in. The bird swooped to Ron's hand before dropping a small bit of parchment. "Thanks." He scratched absently at the owl's head as he looked at the note.
- Ron-
Please meet me at Café Tacuba at six-thirty. Directions are below.
Yours,
Draco
Ron mulled over the notice. It was quarter to six already, but that still gave him plenty of time to get to the restaurant since it was only a few blocks away. He went into the kitchen and found some leftover turkey to give to the owl, which hooted appreciatively before leaving. Evidently he hadn't been told to take back a reply.
Forty-five minutes later Ron was walking into the café. Draco was easy enough to spot, despite having his head buried in a wine list. He looked up as Ron sat down, apology written all over his face.
"Ron. I'm so glad you came," Draco said, putting down the listing and clutching Ron's hands in is. "I'm such a fucking idiot. Please forgive me."
"For what?" Ron was pretty sure why Draco was falling all over himself with guilt, but he wanted to make sure.
"Our one year anniversary. It was yesterday and I didn't do a bloody thing. I'm so sorry."
A warm smile bloomed on Ron's face. "Apology accepted. Remind me to show you something when we get home." He glanced at the list. "Find anything good?"
"Definitely."
As if on cue, a waiter appeared. Draco removed his hands from Ron's to hand back the list as he gave his order.
Ron raised his eyebrows. "Champagne?"
"Of course. We're celebrating."
"I'm glad you want to. Oh! You'll never believe what I found out at the NYCCC today."
Draco looked blankly at him. "The what?"
"New York Center for Calamities and Convalescence. Hospital. Thanks."
The last word was directed at their server, who had returned with what appeared to be an expensive bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two fluted glasses.
"To a year and a day together," Draco toasted once their glasses were filled.
"To our first year and a day," Ron specified, buoyed by Draco's obvious contentment.
They sat for a couple of minutes in silence, admiring each other. Ron knew that Draco was equally surprised at their getting together, much less moving in together, and now living overseas. They each had their faults, to be sure, and many of their friends from Hogwarts were skeptical to the point of disbelief. Still, despite a few blow ups, usually family-centric, they'd had a pretty marvelous year as far as relationships went.
"Wait- why were you at a hospital? Did something happen?" Draco was suddenly worried. "I hadn't you out like you were this morning in ages."
"No, no. I was fine." Ron felt a little sheepish. "Just had a bit of a pity party when you went to bed without saying anything." He shrugged it off. "No, I'm going to help out the Healers over there; give me something to do."
Draco nodded approvingly and refilled their glasses.
"Not only that," Ron went on, "but when I first showed up, they thought I was there to see someone. I managed to find another Weasley family, can you believe it?"
Draco choked. "You're joking," he coughed as the waiter approached with a menu. "Ron," Draco wheezed, getting his breath, "why don't you order an appetizer."
"Okay."
Soon they were alone again.
"You didn't know they were here, did you?" Draco asked more calmly.
"Bollocks, no," Ron said, grinning. "It's pretty great, though. Persephone was who I met, probably fourteen, but I'm no good at guessing. I'm going to ring them tomorrow, and send a letter to Dad. He'll be bonkers, since he likes family trees and all that."
"I shouldn't even ask what she looks like."
"Not like us, really, though she has the freckles, poor sod." Ron played with the stem of his glass, thinking affectionately of his distant, unexpected relation.
"That's wonderful," Draco said with a small smile.
"What- that she doesn't look like us?" Ron feigned insult as a platter of steaming oysters appeared and was placed on the table.
"No, you paranoid git. That you're in one of the largest cities in the world and you managed to stumble across family you didn't even know about. Now maybe you won't feel so homesick." Draco eyed the oysters before raising an approving gaze to Ron's. "And I must say that I'm obviously making a positive impact on you, food-wise. Excellent choice."
"Thanks," Ron said, tucking into the shellfish. "And I'm not homesick. Just need to get a routine. Hey- we should go to that next match, too. The New York Squall are playing the Albatrosses."
Draco rolled his eyes. "But Ron, they're excruciating to watch."
"They're not that bad," Ron insisted, his eyes drawn to Draco's mouth as he delicately sucked in an oyster. "You and I could sure teach them a thing or too, though."
"Now that's the truth," Draco said, a competitive gleam in his eye. "Are you going to eat that last oyster?"
They decided to stay for what was a sumptuous dinner, and even had a bottle of wine when the champagne ran out. By the time they got home, Ron was in a very excellent mood. He and Draco weren't usually much for public affection, but Draco had snagged Ron's arm to duck into two shady alleys on their walk back for short but ferocious snogging sessions.
"Where're you going?" Draco asked accusingly once they were in the kitchen.
"Porch. Quick smoke."
"You know how much I hate that you do that. Ugh. Filthy habit."
"Yes, I know," Ron countered. "I'll give it up, I promise. Especially now that I'll be at the hospital. But for now, cut me just a little slack." He pulled Draco to him and planted a deep kiss on his pouting lips. "Just go on upstairs and I'll join you in a few minutes."
Draco moved away as Ron retrieved a pack of cigarettes from a drawer.
"Don't take too long. I've been thinking about you all day." Draco gave Ron a lascivious look before running his hands suggestively over his groin.
"I won't," Ron promised. "Especially if I know you'll be doing that without your trousers on. Merlin, but you're sexy as hell. Not to mention like you look like you need to be shagged." Changing his mind, Ron dropped the pack on the counter. "I'll smoke later," he growled as Draco smirked. "You're just too tempting to have standing there like that."
"Of course I am."
They rapidly managed the stairs, shedding their clothes in their bedroom until they were both clad only in their boxers.
"What was it you wanted to show me?" Draco asked, kissing around Ron's neck and tweaking his nipples, making Ron emit a needy moan.
"Oh yeah," Ron said, covering Draco's hands with his own. "That. Not that I want you to stop what you're doing, but let me turn around."
Draco let out a gasp. "Merlin! Ron, it's… I…"
Ron felt Draco's fingers trace the dragon on his skin.
"It's beautiful," Draco said in an awed voice. "I can't believe you did this."
"D'you like it?" Ron was suddenly afraid that his gesture was too much and he hunched his shoulders forward, caving slightly in on himself.
"Oh Ron. How could I not?" The fingers continued caressing Ron's back, and he felt Draco move closer before he breathed gently over the tattoo. "So beautiful," Draco murmured into Ron's skin. He moved his arms around to embrace Ron at the waist, entwining his hands at Ron's navel.
"You must be talking to Drake," Ron said ruefully.
Draco's hands splayed downward and snuck under the waistband of Ron's boxers.
"No. Both of you," he whispered as Ron felt Draco's tongue tenderly trace the outline of the white dragon.
Ron had spent a goodly amount of time watching it in a mirror, seeing it move around some, mostly stretching its wings and occasionally belching fire.
"What's he doing?"
Draco chuckled hotly as his hands grasped Ron's burgeoning erection. Ron let his head fall back so it was next to Draco's, as he reveled in the erotic sensations being bestowed on him.
"I think he's purring. A gorgeous, white dragon. Merlin, Ron." Draco began pulling on Ron's arousal, longer downward motions to swifter upsweeps, the way he knew Ron toyed with himself when alone. "Does this mean you-"
The unasked question mingled with the sound of their heavy breathing. Ron stood languorously in his lover's arms with such nimble hands. He didn't know what to say. He was grateful that Draco continued to plant a flurry of kisses around the tattoo while still fisting Ron, anchoring himself on the floor by shoving up as tightly behind Ron as he could.
"I'm piss-poor at words," Ron said, reaching behind him to grasp at Draco's taut arse. "But yeah, it definitely means a lot. A lot about how I feel about you. And us."
Ron felt the slick sweeps of Draco's tongue change course to the tip of Ron's spine where he gave fervent nips.
"I adore you," Draco said in a husky voice once he nestled around to Ron's ear. "And I'm awed by the gesture." He moved one hand below Ron's erection, teasing the skin behind his sensitive balls. "No one has ever done anything like that for me before."
Ron shuddered as a jolt of pleasure coursed from his groin where his lover's talented finger stroked further back, rubbing toward his arse. "Really?" he moaned as his cock was abandoned, only to find two of Draco's tangy-scented digits in his mouth, which Ron suckled with ferocity.
"Never."
Draco's tongue dipped into Ron's ear, sending another current of lust reeling through him. "I got us a toy to commemorate our first year. Let me use it as just one way to show you how much you mean to me."
"Fuck, Draco, anything," Ron said as he was wheeled around before his mouth was plundered by Draco's tongue. Before Draco, Ron hadn't understood the sensual power of kissing. For that matter, until his intimacies with Draco, Ron had been woefully unaware of myriad sensual avenues; his few former partners decidedly lacked anything resembling Draco's flair and erotic prowess.
"Anything, Ron?" Draco asked with a prurient licking of his lips.
"Well, you know. Almost anything."
"Just checking. Strip and get on the bed so I can have my wicked, hedonistic way with you."
Ron quickly obliged. He was up for almost anything that involved Draco and sex. Despite it all, he couldn't garner the nerve for full-on-Draco-buried-in-him with anything but his fingers. Though those experiences, with Draco's skill, had given Ron the most intense orgasms he'd ever known. Moments later Ron found himself spreadeagle, tied securely but lovingly to their bed. The 'toy' appeared to be a harness thing separating his cock and sacs.
"Merlin, Draco, you're evil," Ron rumbled, his body succumbing to nearly painful thresholds of pleasure. All he could do was writhe unsuccessfully against his multiple restraints as Draco chuckled around a nipple. He bit the hard nub before teasingly biting down Ron's abdomen, a zealous cartographer mapping a beloved land.
Draco licked, massaged, gently breached, even tickled, lavishing what seemed like agonising hours of attentions to every erogenous part of Ron's body save his cock. When he was finally sucked into Draco's inviting mouth, Ron thrust only twice before yelling shamelessly. The rush of passion jerked out of him as he arched up as high as he could, almost dislodging Draco despite being firmly planted between Ron's open legs.
For several minutes all Ron could do was lie there, his heart gasping and heart racing as though he'd been almost drowned and then suddenly tossed onto land.
"Oh holy Merlin," he said eventually, raising his head to look at Draco through the sweaty red curtain of fringe in his eyes. "That was the most fucking unbelievable thing I've ever felt."
Draco sat back on his heels, trailing a finger through a stray bit of pearly fluid. He fixed a possessive chiromancer's gaze at his hand before sucking the finger between his swollen lips, quirking a sage smile at Ron's mostly suppressed whimper in response.
"Why, thank you. I do rather enjoy giving mind-blowing sex."
Still bound, Ron watched avidly as Draco patted around the disheveled mess of sheets for their lubricant. He took himself in hand and brought himself quickly to climax, the intense grey eyes not leaving Ron's face until his orgasm pulsed through him.
"Draco," Ron said hoarsely, watching his lover's pale heaving chest, "you're amazing."
Draco let out a long, sated sigh, wiping his hand on the sheet with the shadow of a grimace. "Yes, I am. Now let's get cleaned up and go to bed. I feel like I could sleep for a week."
The constraints were removed. Ron got up gingerly, his body drained from the intensity of their coupling. They brushed their teeth and went to the toilet in turns, soon lying in each other's arms and looking drowsily at one another.
"Turn over so I can see your gorgeous little love creature again," Draco said, smiling softly.
Ron obliged, and felt Draco nuzzle his shoulder and soon dozed off, holding Draco's hand across his chest.
***
Ron went to the hospital the next day and spent much of it introducing himself to the staff and even looking in on two patients who were most of the way through some complicated hex-removal procedures. The treatments and their magical applications seemed very similar, though the actual style of the Healers was a far cry from the more staid company Ron was used to at St. Mungo's. Not only that, but it being New York City, the staff at NYCCC were far more cosmopolitan and came from all of the country- even the world. He discovered they even had a thriving internship program which he decided he definitely needed to write to St. Mungo's about. Merlin knew that his early attempts at good bedside manners with his first few patients mightn't have been so embarrassing if he'd had more occasions to see Healers at work.
Once back at home, armed with Hermione's tidy notes, he got ready to try reaching Persephone by phone in the hopes of meeting up on Saturday. Draco was going to be tied up all day in what sounded like a tedious sauce-making seminar, so Ron was glad to have something else to do. He'd grown rather fond of their wide-screen television, but the prospect of getting out and doing some socialising that didn't require him putting on his 'ponce pants' as Draco called them (of course, Draco usually wouldn't let Ron go clubbing without wearing the one pair of leather trousers that he had) was very appealing.
He dialed, and waited until Persephone answered. They chatted briefly, then she gave him directions to their house.
"Just take the Chimera line to stop 22. We're on Hyacinth Park, catty-corner from the bus stop, house 942. You'll see a big hedge and a bright green fire hydrant- they've just painted them, it's pretty funny- just tap your wand on the top and you'll be able to see our street."
"The what line?" Maybe Ron wasn't so good at using Muggle technology. "I think I'd know if I saw that on my public transport map."
"Oh!" Persephone giggled. "Not the covite bus, the Wizard bus."
"Covite?"
"Y'know. People without magic."
"We call them Muggles."
"That's weird."
Ron snorted. "Okay. Now you've just got to tell me how to find the Wizard bus. I'm pretty good with the Muggle routes."
"Go to Grand Central Station, to the bus terminals, lower level. There's a set of turnstiles near the ticketing windows; just go through the one furthest to your left, next to the wall mural. Then you'll be in our bus area." She leaned on the 'our' for emphasis, making Ron smile. "The rest is really obvious."
"Sounds brilliant. I'll be there around two o'clock, then?"
"Excellent!" she chirped. "See you Saturday."
***
The weekend arrived. Initially rebuffed, Ron cajoled Draco into a deliciously satisfying shag. He didn't want anything elaborate, but Ron did tend to wake up at least semi-erect. Morning Draco was less guarded, hair rumpled and often cranky, but of all times of day, that was when he was most affectionate. Draco had made a warning growling sound when Ron first trailed his hand down Draco's abdomen to nestle his fingers in the dark gold curls of his groin. Ron was gently tenacious, and rewarded as his lover gave in with an exasperated sigh.
"You and morning sex," he said, shaking his head and looking at Ron with slightly puffy eyes. "It's as though you think frottage is a daily fortifier or something."
Ron had gotten the lubricant Draco made exclusively for their use and lay back down on his side, stroking his lover's cock. "It's way too early for you to be using words I don't know."
Draco let out a cooing sound of pleasure as Ron, with a well-oiled hand, took their erections and began fisting them together slowly.
"Frottage," Draco said a bit breathlessly, giving attention to Ron's hard nipples. "Rubbing. Grinding. This. Oh Merlin, and you're so good at it."
"Thanks."
They thrust against each other, Ron giving Draco a couple of kisses on the side of his lightly-stubbled face. One thing he'd learned when they began spending the night together was that there was absolutely no mouth-to-mouth kissing with Draco until the blond had brushed his teeth. No exceptions.
A short while later, a satisfied Draco was getting a shower. After lounging in the bed for a few minutes, rather smugly relishing the pleasure of his own release, Ron got up and went to make coffee. Draco went off to the Institute for the day and Ron puttered around the house until noon. He didn't really know how long it would take to get to the Weasleys, and he figured better early than late. Armed with Persephone's directions, an assemblage of Muggle and Wizard money, and the manga, he left the flat.
***
- Dear Dad,
I've been meaning to write, but you know how that is. You'll never believe this, but I've met another Weasley family. I'm helping out at the big hospital here- I swear the name's as big as the place, the New York Center for Calamities and Convalescence- and I met a girl named Persephone Weasley. I went out and met her parents yesterday, and that alone was an adventure. Let's just say that moving from the Muggle to Wizard side of things on a busy Saturday at Grand Central Station was a challenge. Anyway, her parents were great, Portia and Philip. They've got to be relations, I mean, how could they not? Weasley's not exactly a common name. I know you've got all kinds of family tree parchments and histories, so if you wanted to do some research, I'd appreciate it. And no, they don't really look like us. Well, Seph does have a lot of freckles, but that's about it. And this was weird- she's an only child.
Draco's doing really well at the Culinary School. It's kind of funny since he does cooking stuff all day he doesn't want to cook at night too often. I've learned to make a few things, so we're not starving, plus there's takeaway everywhere.
Since Ginny will want to know, yes we've gone to all kinds of posh clubs, Muggle and Wizard, that Cassandra's gotten us in to. And no, being with Draco and moving to New York has not made me any better of a dancer. She and Neville with their lessons can be the twinkletoes of the family, at least until the baby comes. Tell Fred & George that we've been going to a few matches of the nearby Quidditch team (the New York Squall. I can't figure the name out), and third years at Hogwarts could fly laps around them. I may volunteer to coach on occasion, but I don't want to seem like some know-it-all. There's a Muggle game called racquetball that I really like, though. You and another bloke are in a room with high ceilings and basically you run around and take turns beating the shite out of a ball. Oops, sorry about the language. Anyway, I have a couple of mates that I met at the recreation centre I play with, and between that, being at the hospital, watching the incredible television we've got (you should visit just to see it!), and now what seems like an open invitation to visit Seph and her family (she plays Quidditch at her school, by the way- she'd had a nasty mid-air collision which was why she was at the NYCCC in the first place)- well, I'm pretty busy, I guess.
My hand's cramping up- I don't think I've written this much all at once since my NEWTs. Give Mum a hug, and tell everybody else I'm doing okay, especially if you see Harry or Hermione.
Love,
Ron
p.s. I've learned how to use the telephone. Wizards here use a lot more Muggle stuff, but they modify it. You'd be amazed.
p.p.s. Can you send Mum's triple chocolate brownie recipe? I've been craving them something awful.
p.p.p.s. This is a Muggle bus token. I figured you had a few already, but not from the U.S.
***
The time flew by. Ron grew more comfortable at the hospital, and was even asked to function as the primary Healer for a rather exotic case, yet another duelling curse. Everything the wizard said and wrote was backward, so figuring out what he'd been hit by was only the first of many challenges. Using some of what he'd learned from his experience with Draco's persona immunata, Ron spent several days trying to invert the man's magic. Even when the wizard was able, albeit very slowly, to incant lumos, rather than the candle lighting, one nearby went out instead. There was an extensive library that Ron decided to visit to do research into more North American-centric spells and hexes. That combined with several weeks of creative spell-casting and some very helpful comments by a willowy intern who seemed to have formed an unrequited crush on him, and the wizard was able to return to his estate.
Ron and Draco hosted a few get-togethers of varying degrees of formality. Unsurprisingly, the Weasleys came over first, a couple of weeks after Ron had gone to visit them. Philip looked a bit surprised at Draco, even though Ron had been upfront that he was in the States with a male companion. Then again, Ron decided he was under no obligation to defend or even discuss his sexuality if he didn't want to. At least until the Weasleys were about to leave. Ron was giving Seph a quick personal tour of the flat, mostly to show her some pictures of his family. She squealed when she saw the twins in an older picture taken from their Egyptian holiday.
"Oh! They're cute!" she gushed. Fred and George winked at the camera before turning to look knowingly at each other and back to the photographer.
"I wouldn't say that- bit of a bloody nightmare, really," Ron said. "But good blokes deep down. It's just George now, though. They had- well, George runs it now- a really brilliant jokeshop. Completely out of the blue before the last War, Death Eaters attacked them, of all people. Fred didn't make it."
"I'm so sorry. That must've been really sad." Persephone put the picture carefully on the side table.
"Yeah. George's doing okay, but it's still weird seeing just him without Fred." He followed her gaze to another picture, this one on Draco's side of the bed. It was of the two of them, lounging in a pub booth, Ron's arm draped over Draco's shoulder. The picture-Draco had a sly grin on his face, glancing over to Ron and back.
"Mmmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "You two are together. Like together together."
Ron felt a faint flush start at his neck. "Yes, we are."
She made another contemplative noise.
"Does that bother you?" Ron asked as they left the room.
"Ron, I read manga. Shounen ai manga," she said, as though that should make everything perfectly clear. "And I have an idea." She turned and Ron recognised a very twin-reminiscent impish expression on her face. "Will you give me your address again?"
He wrote it down for her and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley thanked Draco profusely for the stunning meal he'd concocted.
"Any time," he drawled. "It's been a delightful evening." He took Persephone's hand and kissed it, at which point she turned scarlet. "Please do come again."
Once the door was shut Draco collapsed on the sofa.
"You're not about to say something rude, are you?" Ron warned, thinking Draco had been laying it on a bit thick there at the end.
"No, Ron, I'm not," Draco said indignantly. "But I would like to have Cassandra, some of her friends and some of the more tolerable gents from the Institute over."
"Fine with me," Ron said affably, sitting next to Draco. "Just set a date and I'll make sure the flat's clean."
"Such a good house husband." Draco patted Ron's thigh and smiled warmly at him.
"I may have to kick your arse right about now."
"I can think of better things you could do to it."
The cleaning was put off until the morning.
***
A few days later, Ron heard the doorbell ring. He opened the door to see a befuddled looking man wearing a blue uniform with the acronym USWP stitched on the pocket in gold. He had a mid-sized package in his hand.
"Ron Weasley?" he asked, looking at the glittery purple writing on the box and back up at Ron.
"Yeah. Who're you?"
"Wizarding Post. Just never delivered anything here before. Please sign this." He shoved a parchment with dozens of lines on it and handed Ron a utilitarian quill. "Line twenty-seven."
Ron scrawled his signature as legibly as he could and accepted the parcel. "Thanks."
He went inside, investigating the art on the outside. It was from Seph, no doubt there, gaily addressed and with a couple of drawings of the characters in the manga comic she'd let him borrow. Inside were three more books and a note on pink paper so vivid it hurt his eyes to read it. "SEPH" winked in and out at the top of the page.
- Dear Ron,
Thanks again for letting us come over for dinner! Draco's a really, really good cook. And I love his accent. Yours too.
I got these for you, but before you freak out, I didn't actually get them myself- mom would totally go through my stuff if she knew I'd even seen any like this. Since you and Draco (and he's CUTE!!) are a couple, I asked an older friend to get these. I hope you like them and aren't embarrassed! LOL!
A few smiley faces rolled across the note.
- We're playing our only rival with a decent Quidditch team in a couple of weeks- it's outside of the city of course. New Yorkers are used to seeing a lot, but they're still covites. Call me if you want to watch. Mom says you could Apparate. I don't know how yet.
A frowny face blinked sadly.
- Hope you like them!
See you soon,
Your friend,
Seph
With no small amount of intrigue, Ron lifted one of the books of manga and began flipping through it. The first difference he noticed was that it must be wizarding manga. The illustrations, far more realistic than the one he'd borrowed before, were moving.
And-
"Bloody hell!"
After recovering from the shock that this was adult, in no uncertain terms, he started to laugh. Then he realised he was getting turned on by looking at it.
"Well," he said to himself, taking the package upstairs, "I'm up for a wank."
He grinned at his bad pun.
That evening he sat out on the porch, having an illicit cigarette after dinner when Draco charged outside.
"What the fuck is this?" he demanded, waving the comic at Ron, his grey eyes wide.
"What does it look like?" It was all Ron could do to keep from laughing at the flabbergasted look on Draco's face.
"I don't bloody know!"
Ron crushed out the cigarette. "Manga. Adult manga. Thank-you gift from Seph."
Draco looked incredulously at the cartoon men on the cover, half-dressed and provocatively nuzzling each other.
"You mean that a fourteen year old set you a comic book of gay porn?!"
"Never underestimate a Weasley, no matter where you find them."
Draco tentatively turned a few pages. "Oh gods. They're... that's..."
"Really hot," Ron said suggestively in his lover's ear. "Let's go read some, shall we?"
He tugged at Draco and they wandered back into the house to the couch.
"There's something not right with Weasleys, no matter where you find them," Draco muttered.
"Oh, don't be a prude, Mr. 'I Buy Things in Sex Stores.' It's even got a plotline, too."
Draco arched an eyebrow. "Really."
"Sure, but that's not why you read it."
"No, I wouldn't think so."
"Shut up and start at the beginning."
***
To be continued, of course. And let the angst begin…
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2005-06-09 05:59 am (UTC)also, not sure what's happened with the link but you've got "http://www.livejournal.com/users/111611html" as the link to the 'first one'?
also also: THANK YOU for your gorgeous chatty letter - the 1st of the series? lol. I'm spoilt rotten. and lovin' it! :)
*hugs*