Chapter 8
Draco Malfoy's life was not supposed to be like this. He was not supposed to be living in this town in the South of France working at a little bookstore. He was not supposed to have cut his hair shorter than his shoulders, let alone up to his ears. He definitely wasn't supposed to die it brown. This was his life though, with a scruffy beard to attempt to disguise his appearance even farther. The Malfoy's were known across Europe, and Voldemort had supporters across the Continent as well. He had told people his name was Frank, he did not know where it came from. He didn't think Ferret would work and Draco was too much of a give away. He stocked the shelves at the bookstore, and laughed at the measly pay. He remembered that conversation every other Friday, he'd love to be making four thousand galleons a year.
He barely had enough money to put a roof over his head and food in his refrigerator, but he still made sure he had his tea. He was addicted, and if he was only allowed to indulge in one addiction, he wasn't giving this up. Standing in his single room flat, looking out his window as it rained, he sipped his tea. He had subscribed to the Wizard, a magazine in England that would ship to the Continent. He could not get the Daily Prophet or the Quibbler, but this one was accurate enough. The picture on the front tore his heart out.
"Ron Weasley to Marry?"
The title was plastered in front of an image of a sexy red-head wrapped around a man with yellow blond hair and green eyes. The man had too narrow a face and his body had an unnecessary flab around the middle. Draco probably would have actually called the man good-looking if it wasn't for the fact that he was wrapped around Draco's Weasel. He'd given into the temptation after two days of staring at the magazine and discovered the answer was, "No. We're having fun right now. Getting to know each other. I don't see marriage in the near future. I mean, I'm not my brother."
Right after the war the magazines had started to follow the Weasley's, Potter, and Granger like they were the greatest celebrities in the world. He guessed they probably were. Some had not forgotten him though, and since it had been leaked he was the Death Eater traitor and thus a hero the articles were pleasant enough. The Wizard had a game of sorts, "Where in the World is Draco Malfoy." Originally it was supposed to be a legit piece asking for his whereabouts. Now it was an amusing article where people wrote in and claimed they'd seen him in their garden or eating dinner in a posh up-town restaurant on Diagon Alley. He found the whole thing entertaining.
This was not what his life was supposed to be. He knew that it was his own fault and if he ever saw Ron again, he probably would find Draco's excuse laughable. The Death Eaters knew he was the traitor, if he tried to go home to Ron the Death Eaters would kill Ron in retaliation. He couldn't stomach that, and so he stayed in his silent apartment and longed for the past. It was a silent hell, but as long as Ron was safe and was happy, Draco would take it over the alternative.
Draco grabbed the magazine as he put his tea on the coffee table he'd made out of boredom and random sticks. He stared at the magazine, drinking in the image of his former lover. He smiled at first, seeing only the red-head and a familiar look in his eyes. Then he looked a little closer, and realized what that expression was. He was looking at the man in his arms like he looked at Potter or Neville, and a touch of that look he'd once shot a Ravenclaw in front of Draco. Friendship, admiration, and a touch of attraction. They were asking him if he was going to marry this man and he looked at him as though he was a hot friend. Draco tried to push down the butterflies that erupted but when he looked at where Ron's hands were falling on the man he couldn't stop them. He had one against the man's side, just above his hip but not on his hip. The other was draped around his shoulders. There was the slightest sliver of space between their bodies. There was never room between them when they were that close, and his arm would have been around Draco's shoulders, clutching them even tighter. Ron may have been attracted and thought the man was a good friend, but he was not in love with the man.
If asked what his biggest regret was in the world he'd say leaving. Not disappearing like he did but leaving that castle at all. He should have stayed in that alcove until his father left. He was a grown man, he should not have let his father intimidate him any longer. He had though, and as punishment for his foolishness he had been forced into a life that he did not want. He wished he would have taken Ron up on the offer upon offer upon offer of going home with him during the holidays. There were so many chances during their years together to walk up to him and show Potter, Granger, Brown and the rest of the world that Ron was his. Ron would have wrapped him in his arms, pulled him so tight they were practically inside of each other because they could not get any closer, and snogged him in front of everybody and the teachers. Ron would have stood beside him in front of his father that last year, pointed out that Draco was a grown man, and as such could sign himself up for school and stay at Hogwarts. There were chances and opportunities during their three years together that would have provided him the future he was supposed to have. He'd let each slip past, and for the past three years this was what he had instead.
