A Weasley Tradition
Chapter 9: What the Storm Brings
A/n: Ok, so, my muse kind of…died. And another plot bunny hit. But this one came back. So, here is the very later chapter nine. I said two weeks. I obviously meant two months. This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful anonymous reviewer, The Boy, who is also my 100th review. Thanks!
A/n2: Dear mou, I would have left you this in an email, but, alas, you didn't leave an address for me. If you're still here, still reading this, I'll point out a few things to you. Slavery isn't condoned in the wizarding world. But my story is an AU. So I just put it in there. Cause I can. And Ron IS a hypocrite, even in cannon. Everything else I'll explain later. If you're still reading of course.
A/n3: And slight slashiness in this chapter. Surprise pairing, sort of. Won't be the focus of more than two chapters, I don't think.
Antami: Well, it's about time
Azamystic: You know what, shut up. You've been absolutely no help with this chapter.
Antami: -shrugs- whatever.
On with the story…
Torrents of water crashed against the window. It seemed that the rain this morning had only been a part of a much larger storm.
Ron shivered with excitement as a large clap of thunder shook the house. He loved thunder storms. He couldn't imagine anything more perfect.
He was lying there, content with the moment, when pale hands ghosted over his body. Despite the electric tingle they provided, a heavy sigh escaped him.
"Not tonight Harry."
A small whimper, and then, "Please Ron?"
"No, not tonight. I just can't tonight. Sorry."
"So you're still upset about Hermione leaving." Ron could tell Harry was trying very hard to keep any hint of accusation out of his voice. The slight gesture made him smile.
"Of course I'm still upset; she's my friend after all. No one likes to see a friend that angry, especially at them."
He knew things hadn't gone exactly according to plan today, but he also knew they could have gone a lot worse. Luckily, Harry understood the concept of slavery, and that the Weasley family was only trying to help out kids who needed it. The only thing he hadn't understood was why Malfoy was for sale in the first place, something that Ron hadn't understood either.
They could ask him, but legally he didn't have to say anything about his former life. They decided to give it a shot anyways, and as expected, he didn't say much. They did figure out that his money and fortune were no longer, and that his mother had put him up for sale. Details weren't pressed for, and they weren't given.
Ron had known ever since he bought Malfoy that his father would not agree. Their feud with the Malfoy family hadn't been forgotten after Lucius was thrown into Azkaban. He prepared himself for another confrontation, but once again luck was on his side. His dad had had a heap of work dumped on him just as he was about to leave the office. So he'd be pulling an all nighter at the ministry.
Thank Merlin for small favors. But they were very small indeed. And pretty much the only two things that had gone right with the day.
Because the hour and a half it took for him to explain to Harry what was going on was the most nerve-wracking hour and a half of his life. He deeply regretted not getting that shot of firewhiskey when he had the chance. Not having all his senses right then wouldn't have been such a bad thing.
To make it worse, Malfoy was in the room, and even though Ron knew he had complete power over him, it didn't make his presence any less threatening. His long time school rival was listening to him try to explain very difficult subject to Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, who's psyche, as Draco would soon learn, was nothing short of broken, and for some reason he was still expecting a biting remark or stinging insult. He still had that haughty look of arrogance about him, and Ron had to keep telling himself that he was the one in control, not him.
And just that look on Harry's face, the one where he wanted Ron to reassure him that everything was ok, was enough to make him want to hold him close and breathe in that wonderful earthy scent of his hair. Yeah, that look, the one he was giving him right now.
Shadows flitted across the room, playing with the minds of those unsuspecting people who were very close to the realm of unconsciousness. They warped familiar objects, and made what was once obvious a mystery. The general sense of unease they caused made Ron hold Harry just a little bit closer, even as he heard his friend's breathing slow into a familiar rhythm.
He hated having to deny Harry anything, but there were some things he needed to work out in his mind. Plans for the future, what he was going to do about Hermione, how he was going to handle everyone's reactions at school, and mainly was he was going to do with Malfoy.
Purchasing a slave seemed to have shoved him rather hard into the adult world, leaving his friends a step or two behind. Well, not Hermione. She'd always be at least three steps ahead of him.
Speaking of Hermione, she had somehow managed to complicate matters so thoroughly today that he couldn't even comfort Harry as much as he would like to. He just had to make due with holding him close. So that's what he did. They stayed that way for countless minutes; Harry curled into Ron's chest, and Ron's arms protectively around him.
His thoughts slowly shifted from the future to the present, too caught up in the moment to notice.
"Ron?" cam a muffled voice, a bit too tentative for Ron's liking. Poor Harry was so screwed up. After Sirius died, his confidence, his naturally assertive nature, and even his will to live vanished. He could put up a charade for others, but that's all it was. A charade. He hid behind sulky moods and a quick temper, insuring no one would bother him. Much a repeat of last year actually. Suspicion was low, only the people who knew him best understood what he was going through; understood that there was a mask being worn.
And the mask was only taken off for his friends, and only in the most intimate moments.
Like now, it was one of those moments where he demonstrated just how much he wanted someone else to take control. Ron let out another sigh.
"Yeah?" He gave him a full minute to respond before deciding that it had been something important, and he had lost his nerve. "What was it?"
"Nothing," in that same small voice, almost as if he was scared. The voice that made Ron cringe every time he heard it.
"Don't lie. What did you want to say?" He had adopted an almost authoritative tone, one that he had learned to use with Harry. It had taken him long enough to figure out that that was what he wanted though. Harry had pushed him one night until Ron couldn't take anymore, and had made him tell him to go to sleep or he'd regret it. He'd felt horrible as soon as he said it, but to his complete and utter surprise, Harry muttered an 'I'm sorry Ron,' and rolled over and gone to sleep. Well, what ever it took right?
"Nothing." A pause. "Well, it's just…I was wondering, when are we going to tell people about…you know…us?" His voice had gotten so soft by the end of his question, Ron was scarcely sure he'd heard the entire sentence. But realizing that he hadn't missed anything, he broke into a cold sweat. What did Harry think this was?
Ron thought he had made that clear. He said the first thing that came to mind. "Err, we're not in a relationship of, well, not of that sort anyways. You know that." He felt proud of his answer, considering he managed to spit it out while his mind clouded with panic. But the sad thing was that he was expecting Harry to voice a small 'oh' and make himself more comfortable in his embrace.
Apparently he wasn't that far gone. Harry pushed himself away from him.
"What do you mean we're not in a relationship? What the hell is this then?" Ron almost let loose an audible gasp. There, right there. There had been a flash of the old Harry.
"Look, I thought you understood. We aren't together. I was just…" He was cut off with sharp words. Bit of a de ja vu affect really.
"Using me? What am I? Your golden boy fuck toy?" This was the most vibrant Ron had seen Harry in months. His eyes were shining, his breathing was labored, and above all else, he was sticking up for himself. A part of him was overjoyed, and another part had a slow panic building. What was this going to turn into to if he couldn't explain himself?
Harry was getting angrier and angrier. Ron had no idea what to do. Why hadn't he thought this far ahead? Why hadn't he calculated this outcome into his list of possible scenarios?
He forced himself to remain calm, despite his internal rage at himself. Just because Harry was doing better now didn't mean that he was fixed. He couldn't afford to have him break at a harsh word.
"No, that wasn't what I was going to say. And that's not what you are to me. I love you Harry." Confusion replaced the hurt and anger on his face.
"Then why…?"
"But not like that. Please let me explain." The desperation in his voice was all too apparent. And that showed just how serious the situation was. Ron hadn't shown any kind of weakness in front of Harry for almost a whole year now. He had been his perfect immovable force. Like a parent, almost. But Ron tended to shirk from that analogy. Parents don't have sex with their children. Well, good parents don't have sex with their children.
After a nod of consent from Harry, Ron took a deep breath, preparing to once again, explain his way out of something. He didn't really get a chance.
A strangled cry was heard from downstairs, barely audible in Ron's room. But both he and Harry heard it. Ron wrinkled his brow in confusion, and turned to his bed mate, expecting to see a reflection of his expression. Instead he said only one word.
"Malfoy"
Comprehension brightened the red head's face, but realization darkened it again. Life just wasn't satisfied with the misery it was already causing him.
He could do on of two things now. He could be responsible and go downstairs to see what was bothering his property, or follow his instincts that were screaming at him to stay with Harry and make sure they came to an understanding.
"Do whatever you want Ron, I don't care." He'd gone from almost normal to right back where he had been in a matter of seconds. The voice sounded broken and his tone contained a message only Ron could hear. It pleaded with him, saying 'please don't leave me. Please don't. I need you now.'
And at that the older boy cracked. Why did Harry even presume that he had the right to screw with him like that? All these months, working his ass off to make him better, and now this. He was still as pathetic as he had been the night Sirius had died, the very first night Harry had come to him seeking comfort, the same night they had first made love.
Absolutely no progress had been made. Despite all his efforts, nothing happened. He couldn't fix him.
And for a split second, Ron didn't care. It didn't matter if his best friend ever got fixed. And that split second was all it took for him to turn his back on Harry, and make his way downstairs to see what was wrong with Draco.
Just like the heartbroken sob and scream that sounded as if a pillow were muffling it was all it took for him to realize he had made the wrong choice.
But the choice had been made. He could only hope that Harry would fall asleep not hating him, and that they could work things out in the morning. Because he was finally beginning to understand that he couldn't help Harry anymore. Things were out of his hands, he could do no more for his friend. The healing would now have to take place from within. Ron no longer needed to interfere, because that would do nothing but set him back. So fighting the impulse to run back into the room and do whatever it was Harry wanted, he slowly creaked his way downstairs.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Draco heard every tired moan of the staircase, but didn't register the fact that it more than likely indicated someone was coming down it. He was too caught up in his terror of the impossibly realistic nightmare he had just screamed himself out of.
But already the details were fading, and he knew that in a few minutes he would be left only with the memory of fear, and the feeling of being unable to escape. The same feelings that he hadn't had to shake since he was eleven. This was the first bad dream he'd had in five years, the first dream of any kind he'd had in three.
A bolt of lightening ripped through the ink black sky, followed almost simultaneously by a loud clap of thunder. And he nearly screamed again. He hated, absolutely hated thunder storms.
Why couldn't things for once go his way? He'd hated his life back at Malfoy manor, but he'd known exactly what was going to happen, and when. He knew what nights his father would come home drunk, and he knew what nights his mother would cry herself to sleep. And the utter unpredictability of his current situation almost made him want to let his own emotions overtake him until they led him into the land of nod.
The only thing that prevented him from doing just that was that he now didn't even know what sleep would entail for him. Restful oblivion or horror filled dreams? His clenched fists twisting the threadbare blanket was the only sign of his distress. He felt so alone, so very, very alone.
Ronald Weasley chose that moment to intrude upon the young man and his thoughts. His entire stance screamed awkward and uncomfortable.
"Is everything all right down here?" the question was voiced quietly and disinterestedly. Like a doctor asking a terminal patient for new symptoms…no emotion. Just as well though. Draco didn't think he could deal with it right now.
He lay back down on the couch that he'd been assigned, and brought his knees to his chest, as if the position would protect him from his fears and uncertainties.
Weasley hadn't left. Realizing that he actually expected an answer, he whispered an 'I'm fine' and waited to hear the retreating footsteps make their way back up the creaking stairs. A full minute passed, and his master still hadn't moved from his spot.
A slight touch of apprehension was now mingled with his other mixed up feelings. Why was he still standing there? And then he heard him coming closer, walking around the couch, and actually kneeling in front of him, as if to be on eye level.
Draco tightly shut his eyes. The only sound was the blood rushing in his ears and his heart beating wildly in his chest. A large and unsurprisingly calloused hand reached out and slowly traced his jaw line. His navy orbs flew open at the touch, shimmering with a fear he didn't bother hiding.
A whispered word, low and lustful filled the room, drowned out the storm, consumed him, and drove him almost to a panic.
"Beautiful"
The world froze at that one word. Nothing moved, no one spoke, nothing. Something akin to a sob escaped him, breaking the spell, and the hand pulled back sharply, as if it had been burned.
Weasley got up slowly, and made his way through the darkness, back up the stairs. Draco closed his eyes again, hating himself as he began to cry.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXx
He was badly shaken. Where that brief flood of…he had no idea what it had been…came from he didn't know. But fear had enveloped both him and his slave at the same time. Thank Merlin. Just the knowledge of what he could have done scared him, but even scarier was the possible answer to the question, would he have?
Refusing to think about it, he turned the corner into the bathroom. A muttered lumos sent the darkness scurrying into the corners of the small room, and the light allowed him to see his reflection. It was most definitely not the one that had stared back at him this morning. Gone was the face he had seen little more than twelve hours ago, the on that smiled at him with youthful ease. Its replacement now looked back gravely, with a maturity that comes only with experience.
He supposed this was what he had to look forward to as he progressed in years. More revelations, wanted and unwanted, more wisdom, that was more than likely due to pain, and more proof of what he discovered today. There is darkness in light, just like there was probably light in the darkness. Seeing those boys out there today, seeing someone younger than Ginny just give up…that was eye opening. Feeling light headed with power, knowing that you have the ability to do anything, and no one would stop you…that was terrifying. Reality was rearing its ugly head, and sooner or later Ron was going to have to face it.
He ran his hand through his hair, a reminder of one of the habits he had picked up from the old Harry, back when he had been hiding in the shadows of a celebrity who just happened to be his best friend. Those days were gone. If anyone had told him a year ago that he'd be standing in his bathroom in the middle of the night on some random holiday, with his best friend who he'd been having sex with thinking that it might help him recover from the death of his godfather down the hall, and Draco Malfoy, no introduction needed Draco Malfoy, as his property sleeping on his couch downstairs, well, he didn't know what he would have done. Laugh it off and told them that they should hook up with Gilderoy Lockhart sometime probably.
He sighed, he seemed to be doing a lot of sighing lately, and darkened his wand with a quiet 'nox.' He prepared himself for a sleepless night.
Silence had replaced the angry wind and violent rain outside. Ron was the only one who noticed the storm had passed.
A/n: Well, this being my first year of high school and all…it's kicking my ass. Homework, projects, endless hours of studying. Hell, pure hell. Plus band practice for 3 ½ hours after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, church on Wednesdays and Sundays, and competitions on Saturdays…I have no time. So, sorry, but it's not like I just didn't want to. Chapter 10 is…coming. Eventually. It could be three weeks, it could be three months. Probably not three months though. Anyways, once football season is over I'll have some time. Don't forget to review!
