Chapter One: Most Unexpected

Ron was a different person than he had been in Hogwarts. Of course, he still liked the occasional glass of Firewhisky (out of sight of his lovely but very opinionated wife, of course), and Quidditch, and his hatred of potions in general hadn't dimmed in the slightest, but his debilitating jealousy and such had faded over the years. 'Course, jealousy tended to stem from discontent, and he was the farthest from discontent as one could be, happily married and loving life.

Hermione was still the bookworm she'd always been, cheerfully delving into wizarding law and passionately defending the rights of magical creatures the world over. They had two lovely, if very rambunctious, children, Hugo and Rose, who he swore were going to get into more trouble than Fred and George combined, especially if Fred Mark II had anything to say about it. He was a successful Auror, working side by side with Harry, and he was respected for his strategic skills and spellwork. He felt more confident and sure of himself, and just as accomplished as his five older brothers.

And his jealousy of Harry… well, that had faded some time after the wards had been sabotaged outside Grimmauld Place and his best mate had spent three days in the house of some crazy woman who believed she was his true love. The love potion she'd used had been the very illegal kind, and it had taken a while for Harry to come back to himself, in which time his marriage with Ginny – less than a year old – had been reduced to tatters.

It was hard to be jealous of someone when their life was so bloody difficult all the time. He took a sip of his Firewhisky (which he'd charmed to look like water, Hermione was really quite opinionated about the vices of drinking, she was), and glanced around the Burrow. Renovated in the aftermath of the War, the inside of the house was nearly doubled in size, making room for the massive crowd of redheads that had flocked there for their weekly Sunday dinner. A bushy brown head and a ponytail of black braids were the only non-ginger heads of hair in the room, sported by Hermione and a very pregnant Angelina. A few of the grandchildren had more varied hair color, but he had a feeling that his two and his nephew Fred Jr. had run off somewhere with Bill and Fleur's three. Percy's two predictably well-behaved ginger children were calmly playing and reading in the corner. He had no idea how his brother had managed to practically recreate himself. Maybe he'd used the Geminio curse.

Harry's head of messy dark hair was decidedly absent in the throng.

Ron sighed. He knew that Harry got tired of people sometimes, but it couldn't hurt for him to spend some time with the family. It's not like they cared too much about his and Ginny's divorce. His sister was happily dating Dean Thomas, last he'd checked, and Harry had been practically a brother far before he became a brother-in-law. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his best mate outside of work, now that he thought of it.

The doorbell suddenly clanged (it had used to ring, but the twins had been playing with it years ago and it had never quite recovered), interrupting him from his thoughts, and he smiled. "It's probably Harry," he told his father, who had migrated to the edges of the group as well. "'Bout time that scrawny git showed up around here. I'll get it."

He navigated his way past a table practically groaning under the weight of his mother's food, and threw the door open. "Hey, mate, long time no…" He trailed off, staring. That was not Harry, that was as far from Harry as being not-Harry got.

"Malfoy?" Ron choked out, because, yes, Draco Malfoy was standing on the doorstep of the Burrow.

"Weasley," the blond aristocrat greeted him politely, and the sense of wrongness increased when the man didn't even sneer. "I know I shouldn't be here, but…" he trailed off, and then suddenly ran a hand through his hair. The nervous gesture threw Ron off balance.

"Merlin, what on earth are you doing here?"

"I…" He trailed off again, and then seemed to steel himself. "I need to know. Is Harry here?"

Ron blinked. Surely he was hallucinating. Sure, they weren't mortal enemies anymore, it was hard to be when Malfoy was the Potions Master who supplied most of the potion stores in Mungo's and the Auror Healing department, but… "No, he's not, but why…"

Ron had two seconds to recognize that something was very wrong before the pureblood's mask shattered.

"You're sure? He's…" The blond's expression was fearful, hands fisting at his sides, a stark contrast to the normally emotionless façade.

Someone came up behind Ron. "Hello, what's going on, has Harry… Jesus!" George stared over his brother's shoulder at the least likely person he'd expected to see. "What on earth are you doing here?!"

The blond took a step back. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry." His hand shook as he brought it up to cover his mouth.

Ron took a step forward with him, the sense of wrongness settling like a shackle around his heart. "Malfoy… what's wrong?" – And there was a phrase he'd never expected to utter. – "Why are you looking for Harry?"

"I… he was supposed to meet me. We had… he was supposed to meet me, and he didn't show up, and he never doesn't show up, and I went to his house, but there's no one there, and I thought, maybe he was here, because there looked like, oh God, oh God…" The man was babbling, so far from the normally stoic, cold calmness Ron was used to seeing.

George took the initiative, grabbed Malfoy around the elbow and drew him through the doorway. "Come on."

"I can't," the blond tried to retreat, somewhere between panic and politeness. "I can't intrude on your…"

"You're not going anywhere until you've told us what's going on with Harry," George said sternly, and stubbornly dragged the least expected person through the hallway, past a group of suddenly silent, staring Weasleys and forcibly shoved him into an armchair.

"Merlin's beard!" Mr. Weasley managed.

"Arthur! Not in front of the chil – Merlin's beard!" Molly bustled into the room and stopped short at the sight of the now more-pale-than-usual Malfoy sitting in her living room.

"I'll just go," the blond managed, voice unsteady. "I shouldn't have…"

"He was looking for Harry," Ron interrupted him.

Hermione suddenly materialized at his side, and only his being accustomed to her Apparition-like appearances allowed him not to flinch. "Why on earth are you looking for Harry?"

"Granger… sorry, Weasley," Malfoy corrected himself, automatically straightening his posture. "I… I…" His gaze flitted around the room, from face to face, and Ron thought he'd never seen someone look so uncomfortable and nervous. The man's hands were shaking.

A mug was suddenly shoved into the unexpected visitor's grasp, and Malfoy had to scrabble not to drop it. "I… thank you," he stuttered, staring at Molly.

Ron's mother tutted. "I've been a mother for over thirty years, young man, I can tell when someone needs a soothing cup of tea. Now why don't you tell us what's going on?"

Malfoy's eyes did one more sweep of the room before settling on the cup of tea, which he seemed to think was safe ground. "I… I was supposed to meet Harry tonight."

"Why on earth would you be meeting Harry?" someone voiced the very thought reeling through Ron's head.

The former Slytherin looked up, expression stricken. "I… We… He didn't want to tell you," he suddenly blurted. His face went even whiter than before, and words continued spilling out of his mouth like a dam had broken. "He was afraid of how you'd react. It's my fault. I've been horrible, and I was under the influence of my father, but I know that's no excuse, and I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry, but he still didn't want to…"

Arthur clamped a hand down on the blond's shoulder. "Slow down."

Malfoy's grip on the mug tightened, knuckles whitening, and he took a deep breath. "I was…" The words didn't seem to want to come out of his mouth. "I was… we were…" He took another deep breath, and suddenly his emotionless Malfoy mask seemed to slide back into place. "We had a date."

Every Weasley in the room blinked rather rapidly.

"What?" Ron choked out, hearing the sentiment spoken by many of his family. The fearful House Elf look suddenly returned.

"He… he didn't want to tell you yet. He didn't know how, and I didn't want him to be unhappy and we decided, oh Salazar, we decided not to. But he was going to, and I'm so sorry, and…" His grip on the mug had tightened to the point Ron feared for the porcelain's continued survival. "It was our six-month anniversary," he suddenly blurted out again, and this inability of his to be calm struck at Ron like a blow.

"It was our six-month anniversary," Malfoy repeated, and his voice went distant, oblivious to the collective shock of everyone in the room. Even the children looked confused. "I had it all planned. All of it. I was… I was going to propose." His voice cracked painfully, and one of his hands freed itself from his mug to search through his robe pocket. Ron had a sudden urge to reach for his wand, but before he had the chance, the blond pulled out, not a weapon, but an innocent, all-too-recognizable black velvet box. He set it carefully on the coffee table, incongruous next to discarded Exploding Snap cards and plates of half-eaten food. "I was going to propose," he whispered, and then the teacup tipped from his fingers as he buried his face in his hands.

The shattering of the china on the floor went unnoticed as he continued. "I thought he'd stood me up at first. But he's never done that before, he always sent a Patronus if something came up, or an owl if he was angry with me, sent a Howler once in the middle of a restaurant when he was really mad. He doesn't run from his problems – that's not like him!"

Ron blinked rapidly, mouth opening and closing. He remembered the story about the Howler, it had ended up in the Daily Prophet, there'd been a bunch of speculation about who Malfoy's mysterious (and very angry) lover had been.

"I went to Grimmauld Place, but he wasn't there, and there was furniture turned over and floo powder spilled on the floor, and I couldn't find Kreacher, and thought Harry'd be here. I hoped he'd be here! He was saying that you were going to drag him to a family dinner one of these times if he didn't show up on his own, and I thought… But… but if he's not here…" He lifted his face from his hands, and Ron had to register the fact there were tears, before someone shouted "Grimmauld Place!" and he turned just in time to see George disappear in a flash of green light.

"Daddy, what's going on?" a small voice asked, and he looked down as Rose tugged on his sleeve.

"And who's that man?" Hugo added, pointing at Malfoy with all the curiosity of a five-year-old boy.

"That's, er, that's…" It was with a sense of dawning horror that the only answer that came to mind was 'This is your Uncle Harry's boyfriend.' How was this his life?

He resorted to patting his daughter on the head wordlessly, as he, with a sense of detachment, saw his mother pick up what was apparently Harry's engagement ring and open the box.

Molly's eyes filled with tears. "Six months," she whispered, "why would he not tell us?" She handed the open box back to Malfoy, and Ron had time to see a simple silver band, studded with three small diamonds, not at all ostentatious and exactly to Harry's taste, before it was closed again.

Hermione's hand slid into his own just as George's face appeared in the flames, mouth set in a grim line. "There was definitely a struggle, I found Harry's wand under the couch."

And, with a sense of déjà vu, thinking back to the many, many times when the Saviour of the Wizarding World had been kidnapped, or attacked, or cursed by Death Eater sympathizers, Ron wondered how he had ever felt jealous of Harry Potter.

Six hours later, Grimmauld Place was overrun by Aurors, several members of the Weasley family standing in Harry's kitchen, Malfoy looking pale and lost among them. Fleur and Hermione had left to go put the children to bed, leaving the men to stand silent vigil, waitingto hear anything. Ron spun Harry's wand absently in his hand. They'd already cast Priori Incantato on it, but all it had revealed was a stunning spell that had obviously never hit its mark, and a series of simple household spells before that, nothing telling.

And the floo powder scattered on the floor had proved to be useless as well, knocked over in the fight and not used to travel. A check of the Floo Registry had proved that George had been the first person to use Grimmauld Place's Floo network that day. Kreacher was, indeed, missing, and some House Elf blood had been found in the carpet, so the Elf had likely put up a fight as well. He'd always been rather feisty for such an ancient thing.

The wards hadn't been tampered with either. They were the strongest that could be managed, rivalling even Hogwarts' defenses, and even then, not one of the alarms had gone off. Nothing triggered, no warnings, no S.O.S. The Security Out-call Spell would've gone off with a single word spoken by Harry; it was a recent ward type created in the wake of Voldemort's defeat that would send pre-made Patronuses out to relatives and friends. Harry had set that particular ward up after his last kidnapping, and inspection had proven that it, along with all the others, was completely unaffected.

What could have happened so quickly that Harry couldn't trigger his wards, even though he had time to cast a stunning spell? Ron stared at the wand in his hands and wished it held more answers. Then Hermione entered the room, brushing soot from her shoulders, and he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Molly's watching the kids," she told him, even her murmur loud in the tense silence of the kitchen. "We're to tell her immediately if anything's found."

"When," Malfoy said suddenly, and they all looked up.

"When something's found," he continued, voice quiet but firm.

The silence following that statement was very loud.

Charlie eventually cleared his throat. Braver man than I, Ron thought. "So… six months, eh, Malfoy?"

"Yes," the blond said quietly, absently passing the black jewelry box from hand to hand. He didn't seem inclined to say more. His mask was back, and Ron found it irritating. He looked far too much like the bullying Slytherin they had encountered in their Hogwarts years, save for the endless nervous fidgeting.

Hermione was next to speak up. "How did you two…" She left the end of the sentence open, but her meaning was clear: get together? Stop being enemies? Start, apparently, wanting to get married?

The pureblood raised his head and cast her a wry smile. "He saved my life."

Yep, that was definitely Harry.

"How?" Hermione pressed.

Malfoy looked hesitant for a second, glancing around at the Weasleys in the room. It wasn't quite as daunting as his arrival in the sitting room, Ron supposed. Percy and his family had gone home, instructing the others to inform them if – when – there was news, since Percy and Harry had never been that close. Only Hermione remained of the wives, and Arthur had gone to the Ministry to speak with various people. Ginny hadn't been at the family dinner in the first place, begging off because of a date with Dean, and they hadn't been able to contact her yet. That left Bill, Charlie, George, Hermione and Ron. Five people, compared to the original nineteen, if you included grandchildren.

"I had a bit of a potions accident," Malfoy began, nervous fidgeting increasing. Ron suddenly realized that the jewelry box in the man's hands was spinning without touching his fingers at all. "My magic has been… unpredictable since the war. It reacted badly with a Blood-Replenishing Potion."

Hermione made a disapproving sound, which Ron didn't understand in the slightest.

"I shouldn't have been working with it while I was angry about something," Malfoy seemed to oblige her, "but Harry turned up at just the right time and managed to cast a rather powerful shield charm before the reaction killed us both."

"What kind of reaction was it?"

"Sentiens igni."

"But that would mean…" Hermione began, lighting up like she tended to do when confronted with an interesting theory.

Before Ron could wonder what on earth sentiens igni was, his wife was interrupted by another person entering the room.

"Kingsley!" he greeted the Minister of Magic with a firm handshake. "What are you doing here?"

"Damage control," the dark-skinned man sighed, "Harry's disappearances always tend to leave a lot of wreckage in their wake."

"Have they found anything?" Hermione asked, accepting the Minister's one-armed hug.

"Nothing, unfortunately. They've determined that he was transported by unregistered portkey, but it was a powerfully well-made one, there's absolutely no trace to follow. And the wards are completely untouch… Merlin!" Kingsley finally noticed Malfoy in the kitchen. "What are you doing here?"

There was a moment of awkward silence, then Charlie rolled his eyes and said bluntly, "He's Harry's boyfriend."

Definitely a braver man than I, Ron thought. It was kind of sad, really, to find he still wasn't the most Gryffindor of his brothers, despite the fact he'd fought off Voldemort. Then again, he hadn't decided to make dragon-taming his career, either.

Kingsley blinked, and then sighed, clapping Malfoy on the shoulder. "Doesn't make things easy for himself, does he?"

"Not in the slightest," the pureblood managed faintly, and Ron had a moment to wonder what it felt like to have your sexuality outed to the most politically powerful wizard in Britain.

"Well, my only advice to you is to go home and get some rest. It's far past midnight," Kingsley stated, frowning. "We're calling in some Unspeakables, and we'll need to determine if Harry has encountered anyone who harbored ill will towards him recently, but knowing Harry… well, that likely won't determine anything. Hopefully we'll have some answers in the morning."

The group nodded as a whole, and Ron felt a sickening feeling settling in his stomach as he realized that once again, his best mate was missing and there was little he could do. He pulled Hermione closer, bid his brothers goodnight and gave Malfoy a tight nod, letting her Disapparate them both.

After Flooing mum and the others, and a probably inadequate teeth-brushing, Ron pulled on a pair of pajama pants and fell into bed, Hermione curled into his side.

His wife linked her fingers with his and spoke quietly, "The fact Harry didn't tell us… about Malfoy."

Ron rubbed small circles into the back of her hand with his thumb. "I… I can see why he didn't," he frowned. "I don't know if it's sunk in." He tried it out on his tongue. "Harry, dating Malfoy." A bit of anger pulled at his voice, but most of his emotions were sunk in worry, wondering if his best mate was okay.

"He seemed… to care?" Hermione said, hesitantly.

Ron snorted. "He had an engagement ring. I don't know if he could not care."

"Unless he's doing it for the fame," she pointed out.

The thought seemed wrong in Ron's head. Maybe, if he applied it to the Slytherin they'd known at Hogwarts, but, seeing Malfoy, half stuttering and worried and barely thinking about the words he was saying, he couldn't. "I don't think so, I don't think he's like he was… before."

"Do you think we could get used to it?"

"If it makes Harry happy," Ron said honestly. "He deserves to be happy for once."

"You're taking it rather well," Hermione said, a hint of a smile in her voice.

"It's all a bit pointless, isn't it? Being angry when Harry's not even here to be angry with," Ron said. "I sort of wish he'd told us he was gay, at least. It's not like we would've judged him. Charlie's dated at least six guys in the past three months."

"Charlie's gay?" Hermione sounded surprised.

Ron turned to her, blinking in the half-darkness of their bedroom. "You didn't know that?"

"I'm fairly certain it never came up!" she said, sounding a little miffed.

He frowned. "If I didn't tell you…"

"You probably didn't tell Harry either," Hermione reproached. "So how could he know you were okay with it?"

"He… couldn't," Ron realized. Jesus, how long had Harry been keeping that one a secret, then? And what about Ginny?

"And the fact it's Malfoy…" Hermione pointed out. "I guess it'll be Draco, eventually. If they're going to get married and everything."

The thought was as foreign as a phoenix turning into water instead of flame. "Harry Malfoy," he tried, and then blanched at the very idea.

Hermione giggled. "That sounds…"

"Bloody hell," Ron moaned. "I am never going to say that ever again."

There was silence for a moment. Then, "You might not have to," Hermione said, voice hitching, "If Harry doesn't…"

Ron pulled her close, pressing his lips to her forehead. "He'll be fine, we'll find him, and everything will be fine. Harry always pulls through. Boy Who Lived Twice and all that."

"I just hope there's a 'Thrice'," Hermione murmured, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I hope so, too."

There was silence for a bit, and Ron closed his eyes, wondering if he'd even be able to sleep. His best friend was missing with no real clues as to where he'd been taken, he was apparently dating one of their childhood rivals, and had been for six months, and there had been an engagement ring. He wanted to strangle and hug Harry all at once. Hug first, strangle later, Ron decided.

He wrapped his arms tightly around his wife, heart twisting painfully. Just so long as he's actually here so I can do both.

Disclaimer: These lovely characters belong to Jo, as much as I would love to take claim to their intricacies, but I only get to borrow them. The various theoretical magic concepts in here are all mine though.

So, other than my Drarry drabble series, this is my first foray into the HP world. And one of my very first forays into proper slash. There won't be anything explicit, but the typical boy on boy kissing and general slash topics may make an appearance, so if you don't like that sort of thing, you might want to stop while you're ahead. Though, honestly, if you don't like slash what are you doing on this side of the web? But, as always, reviews are love! And I just love love, don't you? ;)

(Now Beta'd by the wonderful Dagmar Buse, AKA Germankitty on AO3 3)