Title: Repetition
Disclaimer: Jesus Christ I can barely handle my own life, much less ownership of the Harry Potter franchise. This isn't mine, and I'm not delusional enough to claim it is.
Pairings: Background Scorpius/Rose, but they don't really make an appearance. Also the usual canonical pairings are implied.
Rating: T for mild profanity
Warnings: Draco being whiny but not evil, Ron being grumpy but not an arsehole. How edgy of me, am I right? (I'm being sarcastic.)
Summary: Ron never claimed to be the brightest Galleon in the vault, but Malfoy's odd behaviour was so perplexing that even Hermione would probably be confused. Oh, Merlin help him.
Word Count: 1,992
Position Prompt: Write a story that starts and ends with a conjunction.
Author's Note: This was written for Round 4 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 2.
Thanks to erm31323 (aka Lisa) for the beta check :D
Other than that, I've got nothing to say. Pretty straightforward story. Here goes.
.x.x.
Repetition
"But Weasley," Malfoy whinged. "Don't you see that this is a tragedy?"
Ron sighed at his parchment, but he did not look up. He had to finish this Auror report, or else Harry (oh, sorry, Head Auror Potter) would never get off his case. The worst part about having his best friend as his boss was that Harry knew exactly how to get under his skin if he attempted to slack off even one bit. It didn't help that Harry was paranoid about people accusing him of giving Ron special treatment and was thus harsher on him to compensate.
"Weasley? Are you even listening to me?"
"I'm sorry, is there a ferret squeaking in here? I can't really tell over the sound of me doing some actual work, unlike some people."
Malfoy slammed his hand onto the table, knocking over Ron's ink pot. Black ink pooled onto the desk surface, heading dangerously fast towards Ron's stacks of paper.
"Hey! Malfoy, you bloody piece of—"
Malfoy quickly waved his wand and Vanished the ink before any permanent damage was done.
Ron relaxed his shoulders and tucked his own wand away. Okay, so the bastard did have some moral fibre.
"My apologies, Weasley. Can't have those poor secretaries suffering more than they already do, what with your abysmal handwriting."
Ron sneered. "Suddenly caring about the little people now, Malfoy? Or do you just want to get into their knickers?"
Two red spots appeared just under Malfoy's sharp cheekbones. "How dare you insinuate that I would ever even consider being unfaithful to my wife—"
"Oh, cut the theatrics, Malfoy. We all know you love your wife. You never bloody shut up about it; the other Obliviators clean out each other's minds at least once a week to put up with you. Merlin, you used to be able to take an insult. What's happened to you?"
Malfoy closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Ron grudgingly waited, since he feared for the safety of his papers if he dared turn away again. Annoying git or not, the best way to get rid of him was to just let him give his spiel, if he really was that determined to give it.
"Weasley. Never mind our petty differences. The important issue is this…this…union."
"Uh huh. And?"
"And what? Are you really going to tell me that you acquiesce to your daughter's association with my son?"
"Ah." Ron set his parchment aside and cracked his knuckles. "So my daughter is not good enough for you."
"No!" Malfoy slumped into the chair across from Ron's desk, despite not having been given permission to do so. Ron frowned at him, but Malfoy didn't seem to notice. "It is not a matter of 'good enough.' It just. It bothers me. But not because your daughter isn't good enough."
"Okay."
"Really."
"Uh huh. Yet you haven't said anything more, so I'm just going to assume you're lying."
"Oh piss off, Weasley. I'm just trying to gather my thoughts." He cupped his pointy chin in his hand and frowned at the floor.
Ron rolled his eyes. "You keep gathering. I'm going to go back to doing my job."
Malfoy nodded and vaguely waved his hand in Ron's direction.
Ron sighed as he picked up his parchment again. This was probably going to be a long day.
.x.x.
"But it makes no sense, Weasley!"
Ron froze in his tracks. He had just been about to enter Flourish and Blotts to purchase a book for Hermione that she hadn't had the time to buy herself with her heavy workload. She wrote the title and author, very clearly, on a piece of parchment (so that he wouldn't accidentally buy the wrong thing again), and he had planned to just give the parchment to the clerk and have them ring it up for him.
It was supposed to have been a five-minute shopping trip.
Alas, life was just not that simple.
"What do you want now, Malfoy? Wasn't sitting in my office for hours in constipated silence enough for you?"
Malfoy ignored this comment. "Why would your daughter even want to marry into our family, anyway? Why subject herself to the ridicule and the public scrutiny?"
Ron rubbed his face with his hand. "Malfoy, maybe she's…I don't know…in love? As loath as I am to admit it, she really does seem fond of that scorpion of yours."
"It makes no sense," Malfoy said again, this time seeming to whisper to himself. "My son is awkward and ridiculously obsessed with his marks. When did he even find the time or ability to attract someone?"
Ron stared at him. "Malfoy…are you actually…are you saying your son isn't good enough?"
Malfoy scowled and snapped out of whatever daze he was in. "No! My son is handsome, clever, and highly accomplished! He's more than good enough for anyone!"
Ron blinked. Maybe Malfoy's Obliviator job was getting to him. He was making absolutely no sense at all.
"I…I see. Well, Malfoy, if you don't really need me for this conversation, I'm going to go buy this book, thanks."
He rushed into Flourish and Blotts, leaving Malfoy standing outside, his face twisted in confusion.
.x.x.
"But when did this all happen, Weasley? When?"
"Oh for the love of—can't you ever say 'Hullo' like a normal person, Malfoy?"
Ron was just trying to have a nice, relaxing pint at the pub. That was all, Universe. He wasn't even asking for much. Just one moment alone with his beer before he had to deal with the demands of work and the responsibilities of home.
Ever since Rose announced her engagement to Scorpius, the house had been in an uproar, with Hermione trying way too hard to plan a wedding that wasn't even hers and with Hugo whinging nonstop about being Best Man and all the responsibilities that entailed (apparently). Ron loved them all, he really did, but he just needed a moment to recharge.
Sadly, it was just one thing after another, it seemed. He was getting pretty tired of Malfoy's sudden appearances, especially since all their conversations seemed to start in the middle and had no end.
The ferret sat on the barstool next to him, his head buried in his hands.
Ron growled softly and motioned to the barkeep to get Malfoy what he was having. Somehow, he just couldn't find it in himself to tell the stupid tosser to go away, despite everything. Maybe it was naïve of him, but he kept hoping that maybe, if he was patient enough, Malfoy would finally just spit it out and leave him alone once and for all.
It probably wasn't going to happen tonight, though.
"Drink up, Malfoy. I don't know what's wrong with you, but you probably need the alcohol. I know I do."
"Weasley, nothing makes sense anymore."
Ron stared up at the heavens, even though they were blocked from view by the non-enchanted ceiling. "Malfoy, the only thing that makes no sense is you. Everything else is as it should be."
"Weasley," Malfoy sighed, but he said nothing more after that, sipping on his beer.
Ron watched him, half-expecting him to suddenly jump up and prissily exclaim that the beer tasted like unrefined goblin piss, but he just continued drinking. And drinking. He even ordered another one.
Well, at least this would be an amusing anecdote to tell Hermione and Harry. That is, if they still cared to listen anymore.
Maybe he'd talk to Ginny instead. At least she seemed to retain her sense of humour.
In order to ensure that this would be a good story to tell, Ron decided to reach out and pat Malfoy on the back.
"There, there, Ferret. It'll be alright."
.x.x.
"But I'm not ready, Weasley."
Malfoy had approached him in the Ministry cafeteria this time, and Ron sighed sadly into his sandwich. The day had been going so well, too.
"Ready for what, Malfoy? Ready to become my in-law? Yes, I know, it's tragic. That's life, though."
Malfoy sat across from him, setting his soup down. "I'm not ready yet. I had wanted a few more years. It's all happening too quickly."
Ron looked around, half-hoping that there would be someone else to come along and help him with this conversation, but of course there was no one at hand. It was actually rather late for lunch; most people had gone back to their offices already.
He turned back to Malfoy. "Alright, since you're never going to go away: what is happening too quickly?"
Malfoy stared at his soup, and Ron mourned the fact that he wasn't even bothering to eat it yet.
"He couldn't even spell 'broomstick' at one point. I used to have to chase him around the house, trying to make him let go of the chocolate he always stole from the kitchens. He always blushed and stuttered at the mere mention of girls. Yet now…"
Malfoy lapsed into silence, but Ron was finally beginning to understand.
"All children grow up eventually, Malfoy. That's just a fact of life."
Malfoy looked up and met his eyes, looking as if he'd seen him for the first time. "I'm not ready."
"Ready or not, life will keep moving on without you. Didn't you learn that in the war?"
Malfoy's right hand twitched, and Ron guessed he was struggling not to grab the Mark on his left arm.
"That was different, Weasley."
"That was worse, Malfoy. At least now your worst fear is being force-fed food by my mum at the wedding. Once you become part of the family, she's not gonna let you get away with being so scrawny."
"I am not scrawny, Weasley. I am lean. Learn the difference," sniffed Malfoy.
Ron let himself grin a little. At least this was better than the confusion and the moping. Maybe he should insult him a little more.
"You're still the ugliest git I've ever seen, Malfoy."
Malfoy picked up his spoon and began to eat. "I suggest you acquire a mirror, Weasley. Surely you can afford one now."
Ron grinned even wider. This was better. At least he could sort of understand what was bothering the git. He even had a method of cheering him up now.
"No matter what happens in life, Malfoy, remember that I still can't stand you."
"The feeling is mutual."
"Some things never change."
.x.x.
"But I'm never going to be friends with you, Weasley."
Ron rolled his eyes, even as he watched Rose dance with Scorpius for the first time as his wife.
"I never said you were, Malfoy."
"I just want you to understand that, alright? Sometimes you're so dense that I consider it a miracle you know what day it is."
"Mhm. So says the unhinged wanker."
"I mean it. Just because I had a few conversations with you during a difficult time period in my life does not mean we are friends now."
"If you say so."
"Besides…today is a happy day, right? My son…my son is all grown up now."
"Yes. He is."
Malfoy lapsed into silence again, but this was a peaceful silence instead of a pensive one.
Ron grinned and sipped on his champagne.
It really was a happy day. Hermione was beaming as she chatted with Astoria, the elder Malfoys were at least attempting to smile, and all the Weasleys were dancing with their own partners.
Yes, the future looked very promising, for the big "issue" of the Weasley-Malfoy wedding was concluded. Now Ron could concentrate on other things, such as finding the right balance with Harry at the workplace or continuing to make Hermione smile.
As for Malfoy (perhaps one day Ron would actually call him "Draco"), he wasn't too bad, once one got him to shut up for a bit.
Maybe one day, if Ron persisted hard enough and remained patient, he would even get Malfoy to engage in a conversation that didn't start with the word "but."