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thrihyrneContinued from here
Another couple of weeks passed; late autumn surrendered to an early, leaden winter. There was a brilliant, comet-like flash of joy the first week of November when Hermione announced her engagement to Dean Thomas. The two of them had become closer friends when they'd both applied and then been accepted to the University of St. Andrews, deciding to go on with Muggle tertiary degrees while remaining firmly entrenched in the Wizarding world. There was a raucous celebration for them, doubtless enhanced by Seamus' unique, no-holds-barred approach to hosting a party. Ron and Draco both attended, and while Ron knew full well that he had a far better time at the Gryffindor mini reunion, Draco kept his snide comments mostly to himself.
Harry's absence struck Ron keenly, though the dull pain of it didn't hit him until nearly a week afterward. He'd been brooding in front of the warm fire, a tumbler of scotch in hand, wondering why he'd been irritable since the engagement party. Like reluctant, watery rays of a winter dawn, realisation seeped into Ron's awareness.
"Harry wasn't there," he mused aloud, swirling the amber liquid in a slow circle. "Not in body, but he was there in spirit. No wonder you've been such an arse. You miss him."
Once he'd figured that out, his behaviour made more sense. Ron had been short-tempered with Jean-Luc over some stupid administrative parchments that normally he would've just sworn at and dealt with on a break over tea. He'd sent a thoughtless, not quite rude reply to his mum about hosting a Weasley-centric gathering for Hermione and Dean's upcoming wedding, since Hermione had been a part of their family all of those years at Hogwarts and some beyond that. He'd actually received a Howler in return, something he'd not seen in a few years, but his mother had been furious at the tone Ron had used. He'd firecalled to apologise, of course, and burned the scarlet evidence in the living room fireplace so Draco wouldn't ask about it.
In fact, the only reason Draco had been spared Ron's erratic temper and cold shoulder was due to their work hours being almost perfectly out of sync. Ron had agreed to cover McWiggan's shift for three days while he finished out his holiday, which meant that Ron as at St. Mungo's at nights. Ron would come home mid-morning and chat with Draco in the warmth of his phenomenal kitchen until he couldn't keep his eyes open. They'd slept apart for four days, which unsurprisingly hadn't improved Ron's spirits any.
Gazing at the fire, letting his eyes unfocus, Ron sagged into the chair, his exhaustion bowling him over. He'd wanted to stay up until Draco got home from some posh event he was catering, and he also felt he should check up on Snape's condition. Before he did, though, Ron had a short chat with Harry, at least a one-sided one. It had been several years since his best friend and wished-for lover had been killed, but on occasion, Ron couldn't help but speak aloud to him.
"Things're okay," he said, reassuring himself as much as the memory of Harry that he held, treasured, in his heart. "Just really missed you at this blow-out for Hermione. Surprised she waited this long. Out of the three of us, I'd never've guessed I'd get married — well, handfasted — before you two, much less to Draco."
He leaned his head down, rubbing the back of his sore neck. Ron wasn't used to sleeping by himself anymore and he'd discovered that he surrounded himself with pillows to make up for it, but he also slept at an odd angle, which didn't help.
"I wonder who you would've ended up with," he pondered, not checking the melancholy he felt. "Wished it could've been me, at least back then. But I'm happy with Draco. Really. Honest to Merlin," he mumbled before downing the rest of the scotch and placing the glass on a nearby table. "I was chatted up by my bloody intern. Good bloke, actually. But I wasn't interested, not really. Y'know, I think we're gonna make it. A lifetime…"
Ron's voice drifted off. "Oh! And Xave's in Hufflepuff. Crazy. No, Ron, you're the one who should wonder about his sanity, talking to the air."
He knew that the Harry he held in his mind's eye wouldn't be troubled. Still, Ron needed to get about his business for the evening before he collapsed, the primary responsibility being to perform an auralic on Snape. Sighing, Ron levered up from his chair and meandered down the corridor to Snape's room. Draco was off catering a function and wouldn't be back until late that night. Ron wished he were at the Manor, that way if Snape did get all blustery and difficult, he could get Draco to appeal to the sliver of Snape's gentle side. Well, gentler side. He paused at the door, knowing Snape could sense him, and then knocked.
"Go away."
"Sorry," Ron muttered as he opened the door, because he was. He was sorry that he had to deal with Draco's former Head of House, and sorry for himself. Snape lay on his bed, reading. Ron had crafted a stand of sorts he could lay over his lap, which allowed Snape to read without holding the book or casting a hovering charm on it. He glowered; Ron ignored it. This was all part of the usual routine.
"I'm fine," Snape growled, though a tremour on his left side bespoke otherwise.
"I know you are. But Draco'll have my head on one of his fancy platters if I don't do your auralic. I'll be done soon."
With practised gestures and channeled healing energy, Ron took his usual perfunctory scan, finding nothing new. Snape's condition had neither improved nor worsened, and he was as diabolically cranky as ever.
"I could firecall Remus, ask him to come over," Ron offered when he was finished and sat at a chair at Snape's bedside.
"Lupin will be here on Thursday," Snape snarled, giving Ron what in the past would have been a heart-stopping glare. By now Ron was used to it, and simply shrugged. He waited for a few minutes to see if Snape had anything else to say, or bark at him. "The Granger girl. She's getting married?"
Surprised, Ron looked at Snape and nodded. "Yeah. She's marrying Dean Thomas. I don't know whether or not you got your own invite, but Draco indicated you'd be attending with us. And Xave, if we can get special permission from McGonagall to let him out for the week-end."
"Oh, she will." Snape's smile wasn't at all warm.
"Look, I'll have Draco come by once he gets in. Did Flissy—" He was silenced as the Malfoysian-inherited house-elf appeared with a loud crack.
"Yes! Flissy takes care of Professor Severus. He had the dinner I made, shepherd's pie and some grapes."
The house-elf seemed indignant that Ron had questioned her devotion to her indigent master; her long ears flapped and she wrung her bony hands.
"Great, great. Nobody needs me here, then."
Ron pushed himself out of the chair as Flissy tried to arrange Snape's bed coverings, only to be dealt a scathing but somehow affectionate lashing from the former Potions professor. Ron made his way to his and Draco's bedroom, pouring himself another small scotch and tossing it back before putting on his threadbare but comfortable pyjamas. He barely even looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, though he did make a note to shave in the morning. There was a healthy ginger growth along his jaw line. With a relieved sigh of pleasure he crawled into the empty bed and soon was asleep.
* * * * *
Groggily Ron found himself tugged to wakefulness, though the room was dark and he was alone. He flung out his arm and found that, indeed, Draco had come home, been in bed, and now was no longer there. Brow furrowed, Ron felt at the covers to see if his bondmate had just gotten out of bed, or had been gone a while. The sheets were rumpled and still held Draco's sandalwood scent, but they always smelled like that on his side unless the linens had been freshly laundered. Something was off; Ron felt his pulse begin to race as he bolted out of bed and promptly stubbed his pinky toe on the bedside table.
"Ow! Fuckfuckfuckthathurts," he gasped, trying to mash his toes against the carpet as though that would relieve the pain. It didn't, and Draco was still absent.
"Damn it all," Ron groused, hugging his arms to himself and wondering if Draco had gone to the kitchen or maybe the library. All at once a terrible premonition overtook him and he jogged down the corridors to Snape's room. Several feet away he slowed to a walk, seeing candlelight and filled with soul-numbing dread. He forced his feet of stone to plod forward until he stood in the doorway.
Draco sat in the same bedside chair Ron had occupied a few hours earlier. Candles levitated in a silent threnody, bobbing ever so slightly around a luminous, deceased Severus Snape. Draco's face was drawn, mask-like save the silent tear tracks that glistened in the warm light. He was like marble, a sculpture of grief. Ron felt trapped; he felt like a murderer. He'd done his auralic, what could have happened? Would Draco ever forgive him? He stumbled over his feet into the room; Draco didn't even look his way. Lost, angry, and realising he was the one making gravelly hiccoughs, Ron sank to the floor at Draco's feet and lay his head in his lover's lap.
"It's not your fault," Ron heard above his head as chilly fingers combed through his bed-mussed hair. "He died of natural causes, or as natural as they could be," Draco continued, his voice calm and distant. Ron shuddered, grasping at Draco's knees, wishing he didn't seem like such a baby.
"How can you be so calm?" he sniffed, looking over at Snape's impressive profile. Even in death, his expression was of one hunted.
"I'll fall apart later. When it happens, I trust you implicitly to pick up the pieces and put me back together."
Ron was so numb he couldn't even think of a reply. He kept his mouth shut and wished he felt nothing for the dead man in front of him.
"Xave," he finally croaked, struck at last that there were others besides Draco who would lament Snape's passing.
"I'll owl him in the morning. And McGonagall, and Lupin. I'll give him the funeral he deserves, Ron," Draco said fiercely before a sob overtook his words.
* * * * *
Epilogue, three years later
* * * * *
"How could you just let him go like that?" Ron blustered when he heard that Xavier had simply gone into the city. "You're mad! It's Amsterdam! He'll get stoned! Or drunk! Or chatted up by some bird!"
He only stopped when he realised that Draco hadn't refuted anything he'd said. It was infuriating. "What?"
Draco's long pointer finger tapped leisurely against his knee. "Yes, he might. He might do all of those things. But chances are he won't; guilt does run deep in at least part of the Weasley line."
Ron temporarily wanted to mash the smirk on Draco's face with his bare hand, but he didn't dare.
"Ron," Draco drawled in a rare placating manner. "I'm not an idiot. I mentioned just a few of the privileges he would lose either at home or at Hogwarts if you or I had to show up and drag him out of the gutter. He does still seem to care about keeping his broom, a steady supply of chocolate, and his bedroom door."
Sagging with relief, Ron shuffled to the icebox in their hotel room and retrieved an ale. He was definitely enjoying their temporary respite overseas, but an early-adolescent Xavier running wild in a city known for vices did make him a bit nervous. Chastened, he returned to the sitting room and sat next to his bondmate.
"I should've known you'd come up with logic he couldn't refuse."
"Of course you should've." The haughty, indomitable look morphed into one of caring. "I love him, you know."
"I know you do." Ron took a pull on his drink. "But look at us. We didn't exactly follow the rules at his age either."
"Speak for yourself."
Ron snorted at that ludicrous retort, but then noticed Draco's pensive look. Part of the reason why they'd gone on holiday at this time of year was not to be at the Manor for the anniversary of Snape's death, but Ron was certain the memory held court in Draco's spirit. "How are you doing?"
Draco took his time answering, which made Ron fidget.
"This is a rough time for me, as you know, but I've been worse. I'm grateful for the time we had with Severus, and I'm equally grateful that I continue to have day after day with you. And Xavier."
The comments fell from Draco's lips, precious, lazy gifts like red and saffron-coloured leaves caught by a breeze in autumn. Ron suddenly wanted nothing more than to have his lover with him, to tumble together, writhe and burn hot together until they were sated and sluggish.
"Fancy a shag while Xavier is out terrorising the natives?" An eye roll was all Ron deserved. "I take it that's a no."
With a slow smile, Draco put down his tea and wriggled out of his jeans. "It's as good a way as any to pass the time."
"That's romantic," Ron said dryly, easing his hand under the loose silk of Draco's boxers.
He loved feeling the soft, hot length, trusting he could take his time to stir Draco's cock to life and have a long, loving fuck. Draco let out a breathy groan, splaying his legs for Ron to grip his shaft and gently twist and slide up and down. The contact and the look of untroubled pleasure on Draco's face caused the passion to roil low in Ron's belly. Neediness seemed to consume Draco and he leaned over to kiss Ron, his tongue sliding in and around Ron's welcoming mouth, then sucking Ron's lower lip until he broke apart with a gasp.
"Right here and now, on the couch," he rasped.
"That's a bit more romantic." Ron's own erection now strained against his jeans.
"True enough, but just wait until Paris."
Then there was no need for words; clothes were shed and mounded on the floor. Through the blissful haze of their cocks rubbing together and the comforting, erotic weight of Draco's body on his, Ron managed a coherent sentence of hopeful gratitude.
"Let me know if I'm ever about to fuck things up with you," he said, looping the back of his ankles against his lover's calves.
"What made you think I'd ever stop letting you know?"
Contentment and incredulity sat cozily in Ron's chest; he wanted to trap them, and keep them there forever. Merlin, he was being such a sap.
"Less talking and more sex," Draco breathed hotly into Ron's ear.
"Well then, do what you need to do and fuck me so I can't think of anything to say."
Draco's pale hair hung about them like a sacred curtain. "Oh, I will."
Moments later, Draco was murmuring a litany of "fuck" and "gods," ploughing into Ron's willing body. Ron was focussed on the feeling of their bodies moving in familiar, but satisfying thrusts and was caught by surprise when he felt his eyes burning. He tried not to sniff, but couldn't help it, wiping at his nose even as he continued to pull up and down on his prick. Draco slowed down, looking concerned.
"I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asked.
"No. Just, I don't know. Ignore it," Ron begged, rogue tracks now leaking from his eyes.
Draco shook his head before lodging deep within Ron's muscles, leaning down and licking away the tears. "There's no shame, Ron, for having emotions in life. Don't be embarrassed."
"Easy for you to say." Ron's voice was more gravelly than usual, and he rocked his hips to try and get Draco back into action.
A few more thrusts later, Draco paused again, the flitting thoughtful look on his face not as incongruous as Ron thought it should have been given what they were doing. "Actually, the only reason I can say that at all is because of you."
A sob tried to escape Ron's throat, but he took two shuddering breaths instead, forestalling a scene he really didn't want to have happen right then. "I love you too. What happened to less talking and more sex?"
Draco claimed his mouth with a passionate kiss, dark and burning with understanding.
And afterwards, when the thunder of release had slowed to ebbing waves and Ron shed hot tears of being beloved, he felt no shame; Draco used only wordless, mouthed kisses to tell Ron that he was very, very far away from fucking things up.
. . : ~ end ~ : . .
Another couple of weeks passed; late autumn surrendered to an early, leaden winter. There was a brilliant, comet-like flash of joy the first week of November when Hermione announced her engagement to Dean Thomas. The two of them had become closer friends when they'd both applied and then been accepted to the University of St. Andrews, deciding to go on with Muggle tertiary degrees while remaining firmly entrenched in the Wizarding world. There was a raucous celebration for them, doubtless enhanced by Seamus' unique, no-holds-barred approach to hosting a party. Ron and Draco both attended, and while Ron knew full well that he had a far better time at the Gryffindor mini reunion, Draco kept his snide comments mostly to himself.
Harry's absence struck Ron keenly, though the dull pain of it didn't hit him until nearly a week afterward. He'd been brooding in front of the warm fire, a tumbler of scotch in hand, wondering why he'd been irritable since the engagement party. Like reluctant, watery rays of a winter dawn, realisation seeped into Ron's awareness.
"Harry wasn't there," he mused aloud, swirling the amber liquid in a slow circle. "Not in body, but he was there in spirit. No wonder you've been such an arse. You miss him."
Once he'd figured that out, his behaviour made more sense. Ron had been short-tempered with Jean-Luc over some stupid administrative parchments that normally he would've just sworn at and dealt with on a break over tea. He'd sent a thoughtless, not quite rude reply to his mum about hosting a Weasley-centric gathering for Hermione and Dean's upcoming wedding, since Hermione had been a part of their family all of those years at Hogwarts and some beyond that. He'd actually received a Howler in return, something he'd not seen in a few years, but his mother had been furious at the tone Ron had used. He'd firecalled to apologise, of course, and burned the scarlet evidence in the living room fireplace so Draco wouldn't ask about it.
In fact, the only reason Draco had been spared Ron's erratic temper and cold shoulder was due to their work hours being almost perfectly out of sync. Ron had agreed to cover McWiggan's shift for three days while he finished out his holiday, which meant that Ron as at St. Mungo's at nights. Ron would come home mid-morning and chat with Draco in the warmth of his phenomenal kitchen until he couldn't keep his eyes open. They'd slept apart for four days, which unsurprisingly hadn't improved Ron's spirits any.
Gazing at the fire, letting his eyes unfocus, Ron sagged into the chair, his exhaustion bowling him over. He'd wanted to stay up until Draco got home from some posh event he was catering, and he also felt he should check up on Snape's condition. Before he did, though, Ron had a short chat with Harry, at least a one-sided one. It had been several years since his best friend and wished-for lover had been killed, but on occasion, Ron couldn't help but speak aloud to him.
"Things're okay," he said, reassuring himself as much as the memory of Harry that he held, treasured, in his heart. "Just really missed you at this blow-out for Hermione. Surprised she waited this long. Out of the three of us, I'd never've guessed I'd get married — well, handfasted — before you two, much less to Draco."
He leaned his head down, rubbing the back of his sore neck. Ron wasn't used to sleeping by himself anymore and he'd discovered that he surrounded himself with pillows to make up for it, but he also slept at an odd angle, which didn't help.
"I wonder who you would've ended up with," he pondered, not checking the melancholy he felt. "Wished it could've been me, at least back then. But I'm happy with Draco. Really. Honest to Merlin," he mumbled before downing the rest of the scotch and placing the glass on a nearby table. "I was chatted up by my bloody intern. Good bloke, actually. But I wasn't interested, not really. Y'know, I think we're gonna make it. A lifetime…"
Ron's voice drifted off. "Oh! And Xave's in Hufflepuff. Crazy. No, Ron, you're the one who should wonder about his sanity, talking to the air."
He knew that the Harry he held in his mind's eye wouldn't be troubled. Still, Ron needed to get about his business for the evening before he collapsed, the primary responsibility being to perform an auralic on Snape. Sighing, Ron levered up from his chair and meandered down the corridor to Snape's room. Draco was off catering a function and wouldn't be back until late that night. Ron wished he were at the Manor, that way if Snape did get all blustery and difficult, he could get Draco to appeal to the sliver of Snape's gentle side. Well, gentler side. He paused at the door, knowing Snape could sense him, and then knocked.
"Go away."
"Sorry," Ron muttered as he opened the door, because he was. He was sorry that he had to deal with Draco's former Head of House, and sorry for himself. Snape lay on his bed, reading. Ron had crafted a stand of sorts he could lay over his lap, which allowed Snape to read without holding the book or casting a hovering charm on it. He glowered; Ron ignored it. This was all part of the usual routine.
"I'm fine," Snape growled, though a tremour on his left side bespoke otherwise.
"I know you are. But Draco'll have my head on one of his fancy platters if I don't do your auralic. I'll be done soon."
With practised gestures and channeled healing energy, Ron took his usual perfunctory scan, finding nothing new. Snape's condition had neither improved nor worsened, and he was as diabolically cranky as ever.
"I could firecall Remus, ask him to come over," Ron offered when he was finished and sat at a chair at Snape's bedside.
"Lupin will be here on Thursday," Snape snarled, giving Ron what in the past would have been a heart-stopping glare. By now Ron was used to it, and simply shrugged. He waited for a few minutes to see if Snape had anything else to say, or bark at him. "The Granger girl. She's getting married?"
Surprised, Ron looked at Snape and nodded. "Yeah. She's marrying Dean Thomas. I don't know whether or not you got your own invite, but Draco indicated you'd be attending with us. And Xave, if we can get special permission from McGonagall to let him out for the week-end."
"Oh, she will." Snape's smile wasn't at all warm.
"Look, I'll have Draco come by once he gets in. Did Flissy—" He was silenced as the Malfoysian-inherited house-elf appeared with a loud crack.
"Yes! Flissy takes care of Professor Severus. He had the dinner I made, shepherd's pie and some grapes."
The house-elf seemed indignant that Ron had questioned her devotion to her indigent master; her long ears flapped and she wrung her bony hands.
"Great, great. Nobody needs me here, then."
Ron pushed himself out of the chair as Flissy tried to arrange Snape's bed coverings, only to be dealt a scathing but somehow affectionate lashing from the former Potions professor. Ron made his way to his and Draco's bedroom, pouring himself another small scotch and tossing it back before putting on his threadbare but comfortable pyjamas. He barely even looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, though he did make a note to shave in the morning. There was a healthy ginger growth along his jaw line. With a relieved sigh of pleasure he crawled into the empty bed and soon was asleep.
* * * * *
Groggily Ron found himself tugged to wakefulness, though the room was dark and he was alone. He flung out his arm and found that, indeed, Draco had come home, been in bed, and now was no longer there. Brow furrowed, Ron felt at the covers to see if his bondmate had just gotten out of bed, or had been gone a while. The sheets were rumpled and still held Draco's sandalwood scent, but they always smelled like that on his side unless the linens had been freshly laundered. Something was off; Ron felt his pulse begin to race as he bolted out of bed and promptly stubbed his pinky toe on the bedside table.
"Ow! Fuckfuckfuckthathurts," he gasped, trying to mash his toes against the carpet as though that would relieve the pain. It didn't, and Draco was still absent.
"Damn it all," Ron groused, hugging his arms to himself and wondering if Draco had gone to the kitchen or maybe the library. All at once a terrible premonition overtook him and he jogged down the corridors to Snape's room. Several feet away he slowed to a walk, seeing candlelight and filled with soul-numbing dread. He forced his feet of stone to plod forward until he stood in the doorway.
Draco sat in the same bedside chair Ron had occupied a few hours earlier. Candles levitated in a silent threnody, bobbing ever so slightly around a luminous, deceased Severus Snape. Draco's face was drawn, mask-like save the silent tear tracks that glistened in the warm light. He was like marble, a sculpture of grief. Ron felt trapped; he felt like a murderer. He'd done his auralic, what could have happened? Would Draco ever forgive him? He stumbled over his feet into the room; Draco didn't even look his way. Lost, angry, and realising he was the one making gravelly hiccoughs, Ron sank to the floor at Draco's feet and lay his head in his lover's lap.
"It's not your fault," Ron heard above his head as chilly fingers combed through his bed-mussed hair. "He died of natural causes, or as natural as they could be," Draco continued, his voice calm and distant. Ron shuddered, grasping at Draco's knees, wishing he didn't seem like such a baby.
"How can you be so calm?" he sniffed, looking over at Snape's impressive profile. Even in death, his expression was of one hunted.
"I'll fall apart later. When it happens, I trust you implicitly to pick up the pieces and put me back together."
Ron was so numb he couldn't even think of a reply. He kept his mouth shut and wished he felt nothing for the dead man in front of him.
"Xave," he finally croaked, struck at last that there were others besides Draco who would lament Snape's passing.
"I'll owl him in the morning. And McGonagall, and Lupin. I'll give him the funeral he deserves, Ron," Draco said fiercely before a sob overtook his words.
* * * * *
Epilogue, three years later
* * * * *
"How could you just let him go like that?" Ron blustered when he heard that Xavier had simply gone into the city. "You're mad! It's Amsterdam! He'll get stoned! Or drunk! Or chatted up by some bird!"
He only stopped when he realised that Draco hadn't refuted anything he'd said. It was infuriating. "What?"
Draco's long pointer finger tapped leisurely against his knee. "Yes, he might. He might do all of those things. But chances are he won't; guilt does run deep in at least part of the Weasley line."
Ron temporarily wanted to mash the smirk on Draco's face with his bare hand, but he didn't dare.
"Ron," Draco drawled in a rare placating manner. "I'm not an idiot. I mentioned just a few of the privileges he would lose either at home or at Hogwarts if you or I had to show up and drag him out of the gutter. He does still seem to care about keeping his broom, a steady supply of chocolate, and his bedroom door."
Sagging with relief, Ron shuffled to the icebox in their hotel room and retrieved an ale. He was definitely enjoying their temporary respite overseas, but an early-adolescent Xavier running wild in a city known for vices did make him a bit nervous. Chastened, he returned to the sitting room and sat next to his bondmate.
"I should've known you'd come up with logic he couldn't refuse."
"Of course you should've." The haughty, indomitable look morphed into one of caring. "I love him, you know."
"I know you do." Ron took a pull on his drink. "But look at us. We didn't exactly follow the rules at his age either."
"Speak for yourself."
Ron snorted at that ludicrous retort, but then noticed Draco's pensive look. Part of the reason why they'd gone on holiday at this time of year was not to be at the Manor for the anniversary of Snape's death, but Ron was certain the memory held court in Draco's spirit. "How are you doing?"
Draco took his time answering, which made Ron fidget.
"This is a rough time for me, as you know, but I've been worse. I'm grateful for the time we had with Severus, and I'm equally grateful that I continue to have day after day with you. And Xavier."
The comments fell from Draco's lips, precious, lazy gifts like red and saffron-coloured leaves caught by a breeze in autumn. Ron suddenly wanted nothing more than to have his lover with him, to tumble together, writhe and burn hot together until they were sated and sluggish.
"Fancy a shag while Xavier is out terrorising the natives?" An eye roll was all Ron deserved. "I take it that's a no."
With a slow smile, Draco put down his tea and wriggled out of his jeans. "It's as good a way as any to pass the time."
"That's romantic," Ron said dryly, easing his hand under the loose silk of Draco's boxers.
He loved feeling the soft, hot length, trusting he could take his time to stir Draco's cock to life and have a long, loving fuck. Draco let out a breathy groan, splaying his legs for Ron to grip his shaft and gently twist and slide up and down. The contact and the look of untroubled pleasure on Draco's face caused the passion to roil low in Ron's belly. Neediness seemed to consume Draco and he leaned over to kiss Ron, his tongue sliding in and around Ron's welcoming mouth, then sucking Ron's lower lip until he broke apart with a gasp.
"Right here and now, on the couch," he rasped.
"That's a bit more romantic." Ron's own erection now strained against his jeans.
"True enough, but just wait until Paris."
Then there was no need for words; clothes were shed and mounded on the floor. Through the blissful haze of their cocks rubbing together and the comforting, erotic weight of Draco's body on his, Ron managed a coherent sentence of hopeful gratitude.
"Let me know if I'm ever about to fuck things up with you," he said, looping the back of his ankles against his lover's calves.
"What made you think I'd ever stop letting you know?"
Contentment and incredulity sat cozily in Ron's chest; he wanted to trap them, and keep them there forever. Merlin, he was being such a sap.
"Less talking and more sex," Draco breathed hotly into Ron's ear.
"Well then, do what you need to do and fuck me so I can't think of anything to say."
Draco's pale hair hung about them like a sacred curtain. "Oh, I will."
Moments later, Draco was murmuring a litany of "fuck" and "gods," ploughing into Ron's willing body. Ron was focussed on the feeling of their bodies moving in familiar, but satisfying thrusts and was caught by surprise when he felt his eyes burning. He tried not to sniff, but couldn't help it, wiping at his nose even as he continued to pull up and down on his prick. Draco slowed down, looking concerned.
"I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asked.
"No. Just, I don't know. Ignore it," Ron begged, rogue tracks now leaking from his eyes.
Draco shook his head before lodging deep within Ron's muscles, leaning down and licking away the tears. "There's no shame, Ron, for having emotions in life. Don't be embarrassed."
"Easy for you to say." Ron's voice was more gravelly than usual, and he rocked his hips to try and get Draco back into action.
A few more thrusts later, Draco paused again, the flitting thoughtful look on his face not as incongruous as Ron thought it should have been given what they were doing. "Actually, the only reason I can say that at all is because of you."
A sob tried to escape Ron's throat, but he took two shuddering breaths instead, forestalling a scene he really didn't want to have happen right then. "I love you too. What happened to less talking and more sex?"
Draco claimed his mouth with a passionate kiss, dark and burning with understanding.
And afterwards, when the thunder of release had slowed to ebbing waves and Ron shed hot tears of being beloved, he felt no shame; Draco used only wordless, mouthed kisses to tell Ron that he was very, very far away from fucking things up.
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(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-20 04:26 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-20 04:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-20 07:02 pm (UTC)Lovely!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-20 09:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-20 08:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-20 09:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-20 08:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-20 09:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-23 02:14 am (UTC)"I'll fall apart later. When it happens, I trust you implicitly to pick up the pieces and put me back together."
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-23 05:40 pm (UTC)So glad that you enjoyed the story, and I'm thrilled you appreciated that line. It seemed like something Draco would say, so I'm pleased it resonated with you. ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-29 11:38 pm (UTC)"I love you too. What happened to less talking and more sex?"
Aah, this sentence should be framed :P
(no subject)
Date: 2008-07-30 03:51 am (UTC)Thank you very much for reading and letting me know what parts you especially enjoyed. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-05 03:22 am (UTC)I thoroughly enjoyed this..thank you for writing a great Ron/Draco fic...I've been longing for one!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-05 04:46 am (UTC)I do have loads of R/D, many in this Magic Immunity series but several others in different one- or two-shot realms here at my website (http://www.thrihyrne.net/adultHP.html). Or I have my ron/draco fics tagged as such. Always grateful for new readers! ♥
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-05 10:13 pm (UTC)I've been your fan for quite sometime now! Hope that brightens your day. :P
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-06 01:34 pm (UTC)