This story was never planned, like most children, but it is still my love child. I have never ever been compelled to even attempt to read anything that couples these two, but as I started to write a prologue to a different story, it sort of just happened. Also, like most children. So, I hope you enjoy this story, please let me know whether you like it or not. Reviews are always welcome and highly appreciated.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter or any part of his Universe. This all belong to the wonderful J. , i'm merely playing with her Potterverse. ;)

Chapter One - A Chance Encounter

The small pub was packed, quite unusual for a Monday night, but tonight they were showing the first game of the Quidditch League Cup. The very first match of the year was between the Tutshill Tornados and the Chudley Cannons. And since this was a Cannons-friendly pub there were not many Tornado supporters to be seen. The pub had several orange banners with the black speeding cannon and double 'C'. The walls were mainly orange with black stripes and black booths in the shapes of giant C's was scattered around. Along the bar stood barstools with orange cushions and towels, resembling the banners, was used as tablecloths on the counter of the bar. Since this was a wizard's pub, magic cannonballs was flying back and forth under the ceiling.

All in all, the atmosphere was great for this kind of nights and tonight was no exception. In fact, the pub was filled with people, mostly men and single women, in a great mood. They were drinking, cheering, singing made-up songs and everyone was kissing everyone each time the Cannons scored, which was not exactly often, as usual, seeing since they hadn't won the league since 1892. When they, rarely, made a goal the old club motto bounced off the walls in the small pub "We shall conquer!", but as they crept closer to the end of the match and the Cannons got further and further behind goal-wise, it changed to the post-1972's "Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best!".

But between the cheers, the songs and the mottos, cries of a corrupted referee and foul play were flying with the enchanted cannonballs. Ron was sitting on a barstool on the far right of the bar, close to the exit. Nights like these had a tendency to end in great fights, usually with wands drawn, and Ron didn't feel like fighting tonight. Not that he would've won anyway; he'd just be knocked off his feet and made the laughingstock of the whole Wizarding World. If there was one thing he knew it was that all the bad things that happened to someone was remembered through all of his or her life, and way beyond.

All the good things you do gives you your fifteen minutes of fame and then, just like the blink of an eye, it's all forgotten and you're just some guy doing your regular day job.

Good Gods! He was loosing it and he knew. But what could he do? All the bad things that happened, during the seven, well, the actual six years he went to Hogwarts, and the seventh year they fought the final battle, was etched into his memory like a brain tumour. There were pictures of Quirrell, Ginny and the Diary of Tom Riddle, a Petrified Mrs. Norris, Colin Creevey and Nearly-Headless-Nick. The day that Hermione was Petrified by the Basilisk, Dumbledore was removed as Headmaster and Hagrid was sent to Azkaban. And Aragog! Hagrid's gigantic spider-friend! Ron shivered at the thought and shook off the last picture in his mind; the picture of a dead Fred with the ghost of a smile on his face.

Oh, yes! He had definitely had his fifteen minutes of fame. Of course, Harry and Hermione were still the Heroes, but he was just some bloke married to the great Heroine! People didn't even remember his name anymore. Besides, he'd lost his job as an Auror two months ago, due to his frequent absence from work and his so-called drinking problem.

Bloody Hell!

Not that he had a drinking problem! No, Sir! He had just taken one or two, maybe four, shots of Fire Whiskey before he walked through the doors at the Ministry. Nothing wrong about that, was it? He had to do something to get through the day, right? And when the thought of Hermione no longer soothed his hurting soul, he had to find something else. There were always the children, but they were too young to help him out of this mess. It was all in his head and for that very reason he couldn't discuss it with anybody, let alone drag his precious children into it. They were still so young and care free, he just didn't want to ruin that. Not in a million years would he want his children to carry the same burdens his time's Golden Trio did. Come to think about it; Harry had a lot of responsibility lying on his shoulders as the famous Boy-Who-Lived. Not that he needed it now, but he had become the Boy-Who-Lived-Died-And-Lived-Again. Kind of. To a certain point. Bloody bastard!

If he looked deep down inside Ron couldn't honestly say that he wanted Harry's fame, but still he embraced the little green-eyed monster that came out to play every once in a while. Also, had he taken the time to actually look at and see Hermione's life, he'd have seen that she was no longer classified as famous. She was known in the Wizarding World, yes, and she was respected, but she was no longer the famous female part of the Golden Trio. The Golden Trio didn't exist anymore, the members lived quiet lives and Hermione and Ginny both honoured Fred's memory by running the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with George. Hermione was now supporting the family and it made Ron feel even worse. Somehow he managed to blame Hermione for his failures in life and at this point he didn't even think twice about it. Since it had gone too far he now fully believed she was to blame. The 'how' and the 'why' was still a mystery to him, but sooner or later he'd find them.

As he dived into his sixth Firewhiskey somebody sat down next to him. Ron hardly even noticed and wouldn't have taken any notice at all if the man didn't speak to him, and even then it took him awhile to realize that he'd been approached by someone.

"Drowning your sorrows there, Weasel King?"

The smug hint of laughter in the voice was difficult to ignore and left little doubt of which person it belonged to. Downing the remains in his glass and ordering a new one before answering gave him time to recover and prepare for whatever was to come.

"Malfoy. Long time no see." He stated as he downed yet another drink.

And thank Merlin for that! Another year with Malfoy and I would've lost it years ago…

"I never thought I'd see Potter's faithful side-kick in this state. Depressed?"

Draco's use of his old nicknames, especially 'Potter's Side-Kick', made Ron slam the glass down on the counter with a loud 'crack'.

"Sod off, Ferret!"

They locked eyes; angry blue met still laughing grey. What was this? Was Malfoy laughing at him? Did his unflattering state entertain the Ferret Boy? Draco shook his head in amusement before he got the barman's attention an ordered himself a Red Currant Rum. After a quick look at Ron's bewildered expression he stated:

"And another one of whatever he's having. Ogden's if I'm not mistaken?"

The barman's facial expression wasn't possible to misread. Ron had obviously had quite enough of the Old Firewhiskey, something that put him in an angry, but vulnerable state. That he'd had enough became very clear to Draco when the barman said he was all out and that Ron had drunk the last of it. In fact, he had drunk the whole bottle. And no, it wasn't an enchanted bottle that refilled itself either, just in case Mr. Weasley here was wondering. Draco watched as Ron's face turned as red as his hair at the barman's impudence and tried to smoothen it out. He was not interested in witnessing a fight between anybody and said so. Then he told the barman to give him two glasses of Red Currant Rum and dragged Ron with him into one of the C-shaped booths.

"Sit down and try not to make a scene, Weasley!"

Ron watched as Draco went back to the bar to get their drinks. He had some nerve, that boy! Where was he when Ron fought against Voldemort? Oh, yes! Sabotaging! And now he had the audacity to tell HIM not to make a scene? Right!

All of this and a whole lot more he told Draco as he came back with the drinks. Draco didn't mind listening, but it bothered him that Ron got the attention of everyone else in the pub. Telling him to calm down and lower his voice didn't exactly help so he slammed his fist into the table and shouted "Ronald!" which made the man shut up for approximately half a second before doing the exact same thing shouting "What?".

Following Draco's eyes around the pub Ron got more and more embarrassed and therefore more and more angry. A simple "What're ye looking at?" made things appear to be back to normal again so Ron whispered that he still meant what he said. This made the blonde haired roll his eyes.

"Are you still not over that? That was…what? Twenty-one years ago?" Draco said and tasted his drink. "You know I was sixteen, Ronald. It was a mistake I made trying to impress my father." He took another sip. "Haven't you ever done things you wish you hadn't? And let's face it…" Draco said with a deep, short laugh, that made Ron shiver slightly; "I learned from that experience never to follow creepy, crazy people."

Ron choked on his drink at this last statement and coughed, trying to get some air down his lungs. Draco hit him on the back enough times to sort the problem and they both laughed, agreeing to the fact that the description fitted Voldemort perfectly. Creepy and crazy? Yes, that was him all right! No doubt about that!

They talked about Hogwarts for a while and Ron was dying to know what being a Death Eater was like. It seemed that this was a difficult time for Draco to talk about, but he tried to explain as well as he could. He even admitted to, at certain times, wishing that he was on their side. That he always wished, deep down, to be accepted by Harry, Ron, Hermione and all the others that fought against Voldemort, but being on their side meant that his father would pay in the worst kind of way. The so-called Dark Lord was ruthless and didn't mind finishing off whom ever, just making a point. Besides, it was like his scarlet, slit-pupiled eyes could see right through you and knowing that he was a skilled Legilimens you definitely didn't want him to get too close. Here Ron made a comment on his Occlumency skills; not very brilliant since Harry was in his head most of the time that last year. Draco laughed at this before telling Ron the rest of his story. Voldemort made people feel worthless just by facing them and all the Death Eaters strived to please him. Ridiculous, really, but that was his way of getting people to follow him. That, and the threat of a death "more vile than anyone could ever imagine" made people reckless and stupid. Who wants to suffer a gruesome death, really?

Ron was fascinated and could only nod and shake his head in the right places. Forgotten were his wife and the drink in his hand; it was like he had entered an alternate reality. What other people would see if they passed the booth was two old friends confiding in each other and talking about old times. Admittedly, that was as far from the truth as they could get, but for some odd reason Ron didn't mind. It was like he'd misjudged Draco from the very beginning. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all? Or maybe this was just an act, but Ron didn't think so. He seemed too remorseful and his jokes were even made on friendly terms.

"But what about you? You're the boy who married the cute mudblood. How's that working out for you?"

Draco's question threw him off his trail of thoughts and Hermione came back into his mind. Trying not to sound too whining he told Draco about his life with a loving wife. Explaining how everything had been joy and delight up to just a few months ago and how everything just seemed to go downhill after he lost his job. He was slightly offended by Draco's question on how anyone could manage to loose a job at the Ministry, but quickly realized he was absolutely correct. Come to think of it, Ron didn't even understand it himself and told Draco he was right. At the very least they could have put him down at Magical Maintenance, but they didn't even do that!

"Anyway…" Ron sighed. "Hermione just doesn't seem happy anymore. It's like I've become these shackles around her ankles!" he said, staring into what was left of his drink.

He told Draco about his failures and dreams that never came true. How he always had wanted to work as an Auror at the Ministry, but ended up screwing it up. That he only got the job because he helped vanquishing Voldemort, he didn't exactly have the minimum of five NEWTs for the job. His dream about making it into professional Quidditch, but how he gave that up when Rose, and later Hugo, came along.

Draco downed his drink and silently ordered two new ones. He waited until they were set on the table in front of them before he said anything.

"So what you're saying…" he began as he sent Ron's drink across the table. "…is that you failed and it's all Granger's fault since you knocked her up?"

It was a terrible way of saying it, but Ron realized that once again Draco hit the nail right on the head and all he could do was nod. "Something to that effect, yes."

"You were never mature enough to marry someone like Hermione, were you?" Draco asked.

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought about that for a second. Good gods! Malfoy was just full of insight tonight, wasn't he? The truth was that there was no balance in his marriage. Hermione had always been more mature than both Harry and himself and after she became a mother she'd become even more so. Ron, on the other hand, kind of stagnated somewhere along the way. So to answer Draco's question he merely shook his head and put his hands in front of his face.

Draco's comforting hand appeared on his left thigh, right above his knee, giving a quick, gentle squeeze, something that made Ron's heart speed up a touch. Trying to seem unaffected by this disturbing discovery he looked at Draco, giving him a small, crooked smile as to say "thanks for the support", only to find two hungry, grey eyes staring back.

Seconds later Draco's hand disappeared and was raised once more to silently order another drink. There was a hint of rose on his cheeks and the fever still in his eyes could not be hidden.

"Sorry about that. I never meant to get that personal." He said with a sheepish grin.

Shit! What's gotten into me? Maybe I should just lay off the alcohol for a while… Go home, Draco! This will lead to absolutely no good!

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, just waiting for the blow he knew would come. Ron wasn't like that, was he? No! There was nothing in the past, or present for that matter, that showed any indication of it. That's why he was so surprised when Ron's hand was placed on his right thigh, gently squeezing it.

Their eyes met, Draco's widened and Ron's seductive. Draco's breath caught in his throat for a split second at Ron's low voice:

"Let's go. You lead the way."