Title: Journeying: Chapter 12: Adjustments
Summary: The Weasleys and Draco adjust to life with each other.
Notes: If there are any typographical errors, blame it on the fact that I just got a new computer. (Yay! Old one sucked!) So, I got a new keyboard to get used to as well.
Feedback: Yes, please. If I don't know what was bad, it ain't ever going to get better.
~Adjustments~
The beds at the Burrow were surprisingly comfortable. Draco woke with this thought in mind when the late morning sunlight streaming through the small, attic window became too bright to ignore any longer. He sat up and-- gently because of his bruises-- went downstairs. Mrs. Weasley would want to see him.
When the trio had arrived the night before, Mrs. Weasley had been ready to cure any and every of Draco's injuries. But he had been so tired that he could barely stand. And if Draco couldn't tell Mrs. Weasley where he was hurt, how could she heal him? So, off to bed he'd gone. He slept in Ron's room on the top floor while Ron himself got to share with the twins.
Draco reached the bottom of the stairs; Mrs. Weasley was bustling about the kitchen. Dishes clinked in the sink as they washed themselves, and the warm scent of fresh bread filled the room. Draco leaned against the doorjamb for support and stayed quiet, waiting for her to notice him.
Mrs. Weasley turned and nearly dropped the saucer she was holding when she saw him.
"Oh, Draco. Come and sit down." Mrs. Weasley led Draco to one of the kitchen chairs then turned to retrieve the first aid kit.
The kit was a large, bulky, rectangular box that was lemon yellow in color. And Mrs. Weasley set it directly in front of Draco on the kitchen table. "What's the matter?" she asked him, all business.
"I think I broke my arm. And I hit my head on the flagstones."
"Hmm." Mrs. Weasley started to dig in the box. Her upper torso disappeared into the depths of the kit. "Here's the SkeleGro." One arm reached out holding said glass bottle. The rest of Mrs. Weasley continued to rummage. "And... ta-da! Now we can figure out what's the matter with your head."
Mrs. Weasley's head and torso finally re-emerged into Draco's line of sight. She'd found a Kopfometer stick. The plain, wooden stick looked like a tongue depressor but changed color after being stuck in someone's mouth for a time. Each color that appeared represented a different malady or injury, though it only worked for the neck on up.
Mrs. Weasley tore off the packaging and placed the color chart on the table. Draco accepted the Kopfometer gracefully, making sure that the stick was secure underneath his tongue.
While the two waited for the results, Mrs. Weasley busied herself with getting the SkeleGro ready. By the time everything was mixed in the beaker and the beaker was on the stove, the Kopfometer was finished. Three colored stripes had materialized. Mrs. Weasley grabbed the depressor and began checking it against the chart.
"Pink is... bruising, and grass green is a cut. But what's paisley?" She flipped the chart over. "Ah, a concussion." The SkeleGro started to bubble and hiss. Mrs. Weasley brought the beaker over to Draco while she talked. "I don't believe I'll do much with your head. It's always tricky dealing with someone's brain, and a concussion should heal on its own anyway."
She handed the beaker to Draco, and he gulped down the acid blue-colored liquid.
Mrs. Weasley continued talking as she retrieved a jar of salve from the first aid kit. "Here's some nice, herbal unguent for you to put on the bruises," she said, handing Draco the jar. "It'll lessen the soreness and help them heal faster. And I added some sleeping draught to the SkeleGro. Not a lot, just enough for you to sleep while it does its work. Now back to bed with you."
Draco nodded his thanks to Mrs. Weasley and began the five flight trek back to Ron's room.
Once up in his surrogate bedroom, Draco sat on the bed. He spied pajamas on the bed stand and looked down at himself. He was still wearing the dirty robes that he had escaped in.
Sighing, he stood and changed into the pajama bottoms. They were red with white vertical stripes, and he had to tighten the drawstring so that they didn't fall off. He applied Mrs. Weasley's ointment to his ribcage and what he could reach of his back and shoulders then laid down on top of the bedcovers. The room was plenty warm to sleep just like that.
Draco could feel the SkeleGro beginning its work, pins and needles inside his arm. Draco distracted himself from the feeling by staring at Ron's many Chudley Cannons posters. The sheets and pillow still smelled like Ron, which was nice.
The next thing to muddle its way into Draco's consciousness was the rustling sound of someone else in the room. Draco opened his eyes and saw Harry Potter pulling on an oversized shirt. At some point, he had fallen asleep. Now it was morning again.
Draco sat up and briefly shook his head back and forth, clearing the sleepy cobwebs from his thoughts. "What... are you doing here?" he asked.
"Nobody told you? I'm staying here for the rest of the summer. Better get downstairs; it's breakfast time."
And just like that, Harry was gone out the door.
Draco found his robes, now clean and mended, on the dresser. He changed and followed Harry. He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, like he had yesterday.
Eight people were crowded around the large table; there was one spot left for him next to Ron. He continued to stand until Ron called over the noise.
"Hey Draco! Come over here. There's loads to eat."
Ron himself had a heaping plateful.
Draco sat and spread strawberry jam on a roll for himself. With the cacophony created by seven Weasleys and one non-Weasley, no one noticed if he didn't talk. And this made it easy for him to observe these people's interactions.
Fred and George spent most of their time pulling pranks on various members of the family and then whispering to each other at length. Mrs. Weasley interrupted her conversation with Bill and her husband for long enough to glare at the twins every time something happened. She never told them to stop though.
Ginny seemed to have gotten over her shyness around Harry and was now enjoying a spirited conversation with him and Ron about the upcoming year. Despite the fact that Ron wasn't looking at him, Draco didn't feel ignored. Ron's hand had crept its way up to rest on his thigh.
In the following days, Draco settled into a routine. He spent his time seeing how so many *loud* people could live together more or less peacefully. Neither life at home nor with the Slytherins could have prepared him for the sheer boisterousness here, and he'd been left... unsettled.
Mrs. Weasley liked to fuss over both him and Harry. She especially liked to feed them. Apparently, she thought both boys were too skinny for their own good.
Draco found out that Fred and George were going to open a prank store in September, despite Mrs. Weasley's displeasure at the idea. They spent most of their time in their room making inventory and filling out the paperwork that came with any business venture. But any time they had a new product to test, they tested it on Draco. The most amusing so far was a lollipop that caused one's hair to shift from color to color. After he finished the sucker, Draco's hair stayed maroon for the better part of an hour.
The remaining time was spent playing Quidditch. Bill, who had taken a lengthy vacation from Gringotts to visit with his family, enjoyed joining his siblings plus guests. For the most part, it was Bill and Ginny against Ron and Harry while Draco refereed from the ground. Sometimes, for variety, the teams switched around and Draco got on one of the brooms. But, again, Draco preferred watching to participating. Human interaction, in all its forms, never ceased to be interesting. And being able to watch his boyfriend get all sweaty was an added bonus.
Draco had figured out whom Ginny was dating almost immediately. It wasn't difficult. The two had just entered Ron's room when he'd informed Ron of that fact, and Ron tried to tickle the answer out of him. Draco didn't want to tell; it wasn't his secret *to* tell. So he'd shut Ron up the best way possible-- with a kiss.
The door was open, as per Mrs. Weasley's orders, but neither boy worried about being disturbed. Harry was busy cleaning his broomstick, and other than them, no one had a reason to venture that far up the staircase.
Ron quickly undid the clasps on Draco's robe, which was technically Ron's robe since Draco's was dirty. The robe fell off Draco's shoulders but stayed hooked on his arms; he was too occupied with Ron's mouth to notice and help. It was difficult to find "alone time" with seven other people in the house. Draco intended to take full advantage of this opportunity.
Draco walked backwards, pulling Ron with him, till the backs of his knees touched the bed. Ron threaded his fingers through Draco's corn silk hair even as the other hand slipped from Draco's shoulder. Its light touch danced down Draco's collarbone, finally coming to rest on his chest.
Draco stood up on his tiptoes, trying for a better angle into Ron's mouth, when he felt Ron start to push him onto the bed. It seemed extremely unfair to Draco that he should be separated from Ron for even a few seconds, so....
Draco entangled his legs with Ron's, forcing Ron to fall back with him. Ron broke off the kiss for long enough to get a fresh breath of air but immediately went back. While the kissing was nice-- better than nice-- Draco noticed a few, niggling details that were impeding his fun. Such as Ron's clothes. Draco pushed at them, trying to get them off.
Ron didn't want to assist Draco. He was still busy having fun with his mouth. The hand on Draco's chest began toying with Draco's nipple while Ron moved his mouth from Draco's lips onto Draco's jaw, then his ear, and then his neck. The other hand also traveled down to provide sensation to the other nipple. So that it didn't feel neglected.
Draco gave up on removing any clothes and simply moaned. It felt too good not to concentrate on Ron and the sensations he was creating. His hands curled into fists behind Ron's back, and he arched up into Ron's kisses.
Eventually, Ron reached Draco's collarbone and realized that he still felt cloth beneath his questing hands. So Ron removed his hands to help Draco remove their robes.
*****
Author speaking. Sorry about cutting off here, but we've reached my personal limit as to what I'll write. Also, I want this fic to keep its R rating. We rejoin the story a little bit after bedtime.
*****
Draco stared quietly up at the ceiling. Beside him, Harry snored lightly. His first day at the Burrow, he had been warned about the ghost in the attic, but it had as yet to make an appearance. Despite the respite from Weasley noise, he couldn't sleep. Too much thinking was going on inside his head.
What was going to happen to him? Surely his father had noticed his absence by now. And, while the Weasleys hadn't shown any concern, Draco knew that it was only a matter of time.
He idly wondered what his punishment would be. Lucius, while cold and calculating, had trouble understanding some of his... friends' likings for mental games and torture. Having no heart himself, he preferred somewhat more tangible methods and rewards.
When his father found him, he wouldn't return to Hogwarts. Hell, he wouldn't be returning to any school period. It would be straight to the lowest level of the dungeons for him. Lucius would probably keep him alive as a deterrent to show off to any other would-be rebels that practiced the Dark Arts. Comforting thought, that.
So the question became what he should do. He wasn't strong enough to face Lucius on his own, but his father surely knew that he was staying with the Weasleys. What to do...?
Summary: The Weasleys and Draco adjust to life with each other.
Notes: If there are any typographical errors, blame it on the fact that I just got a new computer. (Yay! Old one sucked!) So, I got a new keyboard to get used to as well.
Feedback: Yes, please. If I don't know what was bad, it ain't ever going to get better.
~Adjustments~
The beds at the Burrow were surprisingly comfortable. Draco woke with this thought in mind when the late morning sunlight streaming through the small, attic window became too bright to ignore any longer. He sat up and-- gently because of his bruises-- went downstairs. Mrs. Weasley would want to see him.
When the trio had arrived the night before, Mrs. Weasley had been ready to cure any and every of Draco's injuries. But he had been so tired that he could barely stand. And if Draco couldn't tell Mrs. Weasley where he was hurt, how could she heal him? So, off to bed he'd gone. He slept in Ron's room on the top floor while Ron himself got to share with the twins.
Draco reached the bottom of the stairs; Mrs. Weasley was bustling about the kitchen. Dishes clinked in the sink as they washed themselves, and the warm scent of fresh bread filled the room. Draco leaned against the doorjamb for support and stayed quiet, waiting for her to notice him.
Mrs. Weasley turned and nearly dropped the saucer she was holding when she saw him.
"Oh, Draco. Come and sit down." Mrs. Weasley led Draco to one of the kitchen chairs then turned to retrieve the first aid kit.
The kit was a large, bulky, rectangular box that was lemon yellow in color. And Mrs. Weasley set it directly in front of Draco on the kitchen table. "What's the matter?" she asked him, all business.
"I think I broke my arm. And I hit my head on the flagstones."
"Hmm." Mrs. Weasley started to dig in the box. Her upper torso disappeared into the depths of the kit. "Here's the SkeleGro." One arm reached out holding said glass bottle. The rest of Mrs. Weasley continued to rummage. "And... ta-da! Now we can figure out what's the matter with your head."
Mrs. Weasley's head and torso finally re-emerged into Draco's line of sight. She'd found a Kopfometer stick. The plain, wooden stick looked like a tongue depressor but changed color after being stuck in someone's mouth for a time. Each color that appeared represented a different malady or injury, though it only worked for the neck on up.
Mrs. Weasley tore off the packaging and placed the color chart on the table. Draco accepted the Kopfometer gracefully, making sure that the stick was secure underneath his tongue.
While the two waited for the results, Mrs. Weasley busied herself with getting the SkeleGro ready. By the time everything was mixed in the beaker and the beaker was on the stove, the Kopfometer was finished. Three colored stripes had materialized. Mrs. Weasley grabbed the depressor and began checking it against the chart.
"Pink is... bruising, and grass green is a cut. But what's paisley?" She flipped the chart over. "Ah, a concussion." The SkeleGro started to bubble and hiss. Mrs. Weasley brought the beaker over to Draco while she talked. "I don't believe I'll do much with your head. It's always tricky dealing with someone's brain, and a concussion should heal on its own anyway."
She handed the beaker to Draco, and he gulped down the acid blue-colored liquid.
Mrs. Weasley continued talking as she retrieved a jar of salve from the first aid kit. "Here's some nice, herbal unguent for you to put on the bruises," she said, handing Draco the jar. "It'll lessen the soreness and help them heal faster. And I added some sleeping draught to the SkeleGro. Not a lot, just enough for you to sleep while it does its work. Now back to bed with you."
Draco nodded his thanks to Mrs. Weasley and began the five flight trek back to Ron's room.
Once up in his surrogate bedroom, Draco sat on the bed. He spied pajamas on the bed stand and looked down at himself. He was still wearing the dirty robes that he had escaped in.
Sighing, he stood and changed into the pajama bottoms. They were red with white vertical stripes, and he had to tighten the drawstring so that they didn't fall off. He applied Mrs. Weasley's ointment to his ribcage and what he could reach of his back and shoulders then laid down on top of the bedcovers. The room was plenty warm to sleep just like that.
Draco could feel the SkeleGro beginning its work, pins and needles inside his arm. Draco distracted himself from the feeling by staring at Ron's many Chudley Cannons posters. The sheets and pillow still smelled like Ron, which was nice.
The next thing to muddle its way into Draco's consciousness was the rustling sound of someone else in the room. Draco opened his eyes and saw Harry Potter pulling on an oversized shirt. At some point, he had fallen asleep. Now it was morning again.
Draco sat up and briefly shook his head back and forth, clearing the sleepy cobwebs from his thoughts. "What... are you doing here?" he asked.
"Nobody told you? I'm staying here for the rest of the summer. Better get downstairs; it's breakfast time."
And just like that, Harry was gone out the door.
Draco found his robes, now clean and mended, on the dresser. He changed and followed Harry. He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, like he had yesterday.
Eight people were crowded around the large table; there was one spot left for him next to Ron. He continued to stand until Ron called over the noise.
"Hey Draco! Come over here. There's loads to eat."
Ron himself had a heaping plateful.
Draco sat and spread strawberry jam on a roll for himself. With the cacophony created by seven Weasleys and one non-Weasley, no one noticed if he didn't talk. And this made it easy for him to observe these people's interactions.
Fred and George spent most of their time pulling pranks on various members of the family and then whispering to each other at length. Mrs. Weasley interrupted her conversation with Bill and her husband for long enough to glare at the twins every time something happened. She never told them to stop though.
Ginny seemed to have gotten over her shyness around Harry and was now enjoying a spirited conversation with him and Ron about the upcoming year. Despite the fact that Ron wasn't looking at him, Draco didn't feel ignored. Ron's hand had crept its way up to rest on his thigh.
In the following days, Draco settled into a routine. He spent his time seeing how so many *loud* people could live together more or less peacefully. Neither life at home nor with the Slytherins could have prepared him for the sheer boisterousness here, and he'd been left... unsettled.
Mrs. Weasley liked to fuss over both him and Harry. She especially liked to feed them. Apparently, she thought both boys were too skinny for their own good.
Draco found out that Fred and George were going to open a prank store in September, despite Mrs. Weasley's displeasure at the idea. They spent most of their time in their room making inventory and filling out the paperwork that came with any business venture. But any time they had a new product to test, they tested it on Draco. The most amusing so far was a lollipop that caused one's hair to shift from color to color. After he finished the sucker, Draco's hair stayed maroon for the better part of an hour.
The remaining time was spent playing Quidditch. Bill, who had taken a lengthy vacation from Gringotts to visit with his family, enjoyed joining his siblings plus guests. For the most part, it was Bill and Ginny against Ron and Harry while Draco refereed from the ground. Sometimes, for variety, the teams switched around and Draco got on one of the brooms. But, again, Draco preferred watching to participating. Human interaction, in all its forms, never ceased to be interesting. And being able to watch his boyfriend get all sweaty was an added bonus.
Draco had figured out whom Ginny was dating almost immediately. It wasn't difficult. The two had just entered Ron's room when he'd informed Ron of that fact, and Ron tried to tickle the answer out of him. Draco didn't want to tell; it wasn't his secret *to* tell. So he'd shut Ron up the best way possible-- with a kiss.
The door was open, as per Mrs. Weasley's orders, but neither boy worried about being disturbed. Harry was busy cleaning his broomstick, and other than them, no one had a reason to venture that far up the staircase.
Ron quickly undid the clasps on Draco's robe, which was technically Ron's robe since Draco's was dirty. The robe fell off Draco's shoulders but stayed hooked on his arms; he was too occupied with Ron's mouth to notice and help. It was difficult to find "alone time" with seven other people in the house. Draco intended to take full advantage of this opportunity.
Draco walked backwards, pulling Ron with him, till the backs of his knees touched the bed. Ron threaded his fingers through Draco's corn silk hair even as the other hand slipped from Draco's shoulder. Its light touch danced down Draco's collarbone, finally coming to rest on his chest.
Draco stood up on his tiptoes, trying for a better angle into Ron's mouth, when he felt Ron start to push him onto the bed. It seemed extremely unfair to Draco that he should be separated from Ron for even a few seconds, so....
Draco entangled his legs with Ron's, forcing Ron to fall back with him. Ron broke off the kiss for long enough to get a fresh breath of air but immediately went back. While the kissing was nice-- better than nice-- Draco noticed a few, niggling details that were impeding his fun. Such as Ron's clothes. Draco pushed at them, trying to get them off.
Ron didn't want to assist Draco. He was still busy having fun with his mouth. The hand on Draco's chest began toying with Draco's nipple while Ron moved his mouth from Draco's lips onto Draco's jaw, then his ear, and then his neck. The other hand also traveled down to provide sensation to the other nipple. So that it didn't feel neglected.
Draco gave up on removing any clothes and simply moaned. It felt too good not to concentrate on Ron and the sensations he was creating. His hands curled into fists behind Ron's back, and he arched up into Ron's kisses.
Eventually, Ron reached Draco's collarbone and realized that he still felt cloth beneath his questing hands. So Ron removed his hands to help Draco remove their robes.
*****
Author speaking. Sorry about cutting off here, but we've reached my personal limit as to what I'll write. Also, I want this fic to keep its R rating. We rejoin the story a little bit after bedtime.
*****
Draco stared quietly up at the ceiling. Beside him, Harry snored lightly. His first day at the Burrow, he had been warned about the ghost in the attic, but it had as yet to make an appearance. Despite the respite from Weasley noise, he couldn't sleep. Too much thinking was going on inside his head.
What was going to happen to him? Surely his father had noticed his absence by now. And, while the Weasleys hadn't shown any concern, Draco knew that it was only a matter of time.
He idly wondered what his punishment would be. Lucius, while cold and calculating, had trouble understanding some of his... friends' likings for mental games and torture. Having no heart himself, he preferred somewhat more tangible methods and rewards.
When his father found him, he wouldn't return to Hogwarts. Hell, he wouldn't be returning to any school period. It would be straight to the lowest level of the dungeons for him. Lucius would probably keep him alive as a deterrent to show off to any other would-be rebels that practiced the Dark Arts. Comforting thought, that.
So the question became what he should do. He wasn't strong enough to face Lucius on his own, but his father surely knew that he was staying with the Weasleys. What to do...?