Draco Malfoy and His Happily Ever After:
Author's Notes: The summer's almost over, so there's only one or two more chapters to go before they head off to school. Tell me what you think of Ron. I always find him really hard to write for some reason. He's a bit harsher with Draco than with Harry, for obvious reasons, but I tried to keep him IC without becoming the cliché most slash writers make him. Oh and *'s indicate a change in scene, which only happens once, but I thought I'd let you know anyway.
Warnings for this chapter: Language.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them for the time being. This is slash. Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.
Draco followed Harry back down to living room and made nice with the Weasleys. He had to endure four more hours of listening to them babble on, all of them talking about their lives and interests, which he really could care less about. He spent most of the evening talking shop with the twins, conversing quietly with Sirius and Remus, or discussing dragons with Charlie Weasley while Harry was rotated around the room so everyone could chat with him and wish him a Happy Birthday personally.
By the time the sun had sunk below the horizon, everyone was yawning and eyelids were drooping. Sirius hugged Harry and clapped Draco on the shoulder before tugging Remus towards the fireplace and flooing back to the cottage. Percy Weasley left with his girlfriend to return to his own flat and the gay Weasley made his excuses and Apparated away, presumably to Cairo where the goblins had a new job for him to do. Quarters were tight, so Draco was not at all surprised to find himself bedded down on the floor of the Weasel's room. Harry and Ron had their own twin beds (which had been transfigured out of one large one) and Draco had a thin, rather dinky sleeping bag and a sad looking pillow. The twins were sharing a room and so were the girls while Charlie had claimed Percy's old room. The attic, with its ghoul and leaky roof, wasn't fit for anyone, so the younger boys had been forced to bunk together. Which would have been fine, if Draco hadn't been forced to sleep on the floor like a peasant.
He waited until the Weasel's snores filled the room and crept into bed with Harry who had been waiting for him to get fed up of the hard floor and flimsy blanket. They settled down together, curled around one another so closely they were practically intertwined, while Draco grumbled to himself under his breath about inferior lodgings and flea infested carpets. The Gryffindor ignored him and wished him pleasant dreams, rearranging Draco's limbs to his liking before falling right to sleep.
Draco, still wrapped around the other boy, sighed to himself and stared at the ceiling and the play of shadows across the white, slightly lumpy surface. Harry was breathing slowly and steadily, radiating warmth. The Slytherin tucked his cold feet under Harry's warmer ones and let his cheek rest against the other boy's chest. He shifted a little to get more comfortable and wondered if perhaps Weasley was distantly related to a Snoring Studdlepod, those odd worms that managed to wheeze approximately as loud as a foghorn while sleeping. They were an endangered species, presumably because all the other forest creatures murdered them messily when their slumber was disturbed. Draco had considered lobbing his pillow at the red head before thinking better of it. For one, his original pillow was sagging rather listlessly on the carpet and for another, Harry was far too heavy to throw about.
He couldn't quite remember falling asleep, but one second it was dark and then next the sun was streaming over his face, warming his lips and prodding him awake. A rumble underneath his ear drew his attention, but Draco managed to keep his muscles lax and feign sleep. Harry's voice was low and urgent, almost hissing with frustration and defensiveness. "I didn't expect you to understand! But it's the way things are now! I'm perfectly sane, Ron. This is what I want - he's what I want." Apparently Draco had woken up in the middle of the conversation, but it obvious exactly what they were talking about. Oh joy and rapture, just the situation he always wanted to be in. That trip to France was looking quite tempting at the moment.
"But - Harry! He's a - but you can't-!" Weasley spluttered, his voice raising incredulously. "It's Malfoy!"
And Draco decided that yes, playing opossum was most definitely the thing to do in this situation. After all, he certainly didn't want to draw the Weasel's wrath upon himself and Harry seemed to have things in hand. And okay, he felt a little guilt, be he wasn't the Gryffindor in this relationship. It was only to be expected.
"And I'm in love with him." Erk.
"You're what?" Ron screeched loudly. What he said. Draco thought dazedly.
Harry's stomach muscles tensed. "Sshhh! You're going to wake him up! And yes, I do alright? I mean, I haven't said it to him yet, at least not while he was awake, but I do and I don't think it's going to change anytime soon, alright?"
"Harry!" By this time the Weasel was sounding desperate. "You can't love that git. I mean, he's awful and mean and you can't ever tell him you love him or he'll rip you apart from the inside out! It's bad enough being his bloody friend, but dating him?! Are you completely off your nut? How long has this been going on?!"
"Since, well. Since we retrieved the skull together." Harry mumbled, so quietly even Draco who was sitting on his chest almost missed it. Ron's big ears caught it though.
"You -argh! That long? That fucking long and you didn't say a word to me?" It sounded as if he was almost frothing at the mouth.
"Ron, shush! You're going to wake him up!"
"GOOD! Maybe then he can tell you exactly how he's using you, Harry! USING! YOU! Because he's a bloody Slytherin and he's spent years calling Hermione a mudblood and acting like a stuck up bastard and a few months of snogging isn't going to just put an end to that! You're playing right into his hands!"
"For god's sake Ron, keep your voice down! And Draco's not using me, alright? He helped me get the skull, hasn't called Hermione that for ages, and just for the record we've done a helluva lot more than snog!" Harry snarled, his temper obviously frayed to the breaking point.
There was a quiet, choking sound and Draco peeked open one eye to see the Weasel's purple face before shutting it again quickly. Apparently, he was having an apoplectic fit. Draco idly wondered if that shade of vivid purple actually existed in nature. The redhead gurgled once and then wheezed before managing to control himself. "My mind's eye is burning!" He wailed. "Oh bloody, bleedin', sodding, buggering hell! I need to scrub my brain out with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover!"
"Sorry, Ron, I didn't mean to freak you out, but I never wanted anyone as much as I want him. And you're just going to have to accept that because I refuse to choose between my best mate and my boyfriend."
"Malfoy. Is your boyfriend." Weasley said weakly, and the creak of bedsprings announced that his knees had given way and he'd been forced to sit down. "This is insane. The world has gone mad. You don't think - maybe You-Know-Who…?" Ron asked hopefully, cheered up by this logical explanation for his best friend's odd behavior.
"It's real, Ron. No love potions or spells or freaky hypnosis caused this."
"Burst my bubble, why don't you. You really fancy that git? I mean, Harry, you could do much better. What about Bill or - or Justin Finch-Fletchy? Anyone but the ferret!"
"Please don't call him that." Draco felt Harry's knuckles briefly caressing his cheek. "I can't… I can't explain it Ron. Not so you'd understand, but he acts differently when we're alone. He's clever and witty and really sweet underneath all that Slytherin stuff. I don't want anyone else. Just him." Draco felt that gooey feeling, but luckily, since he was supposed to be asleep, he figured no one had to know.
"But - Malfoy!" Weasley yelled, as if that was an argument in and of itself.
"You really don't mind that I'm bisexual?"
"No! I mean, you don't fancy me do you? Because I don't like you like that, mate. Though I have to admit, it'd be an improvement over him."
"Don't worry, I don't think about you like that. You're like a brother to me."
"Yeah, you too mate."
Oh god, the Gryffindor love fest had commenced and Draco thought his brain was possibly melting from the mushiness of it all. "I really care about him and I'd like it if you two could at least tolerate each other. He's been well behaved so far hasn't he? And the fact he's making an effort at all says tons."
"Hmph. I s'pose. I still think he's an evil little git though."
"Yeah, well. I can't help who I love, Ron."
There was a moment silence and Draco found himself forcing back a smile. Ha, Ha Weasley! Who's the wrong sort now, you freckled freak? Perhaps he shouldn't have, in all good conscience, been quite so elated that Harry had been arguing with his best friend, but Draco really didn't have a conscience as far as he knew and it felt nice to have someone stick up for him, even if they thought he was asleep at the time. Harry had started to run his finger's through Draco's fringe, just gently smoothing the fine hair away from his face.
Weasley sighed a deep, mournful sigh any martyr would have been proud of. "I guess," He began grudgingly, his words obviously costing him something. "that if you really love the Slytherin slime-ball, I can tolerate him. Within reason. Just don't expect me to actually like him though!" He tacked on as an afterthought, his voice fierce.
"I don't think I could have a better friend, Ron." And Draco could hear the beaming smile that was probably spread across Harry's face in his voice.
The Weasel sounded incredibly pleased with himself at Harry's admission. "Yeah, well." There was a rustle of fabric as Weasley shifted on the other bed uncomfortably. "Just uh. Out of innocent curiosity and you know, as your official best mate, uh. Just um." He lowered his voice to a quiet whisper. "Just how far have you gone with Malfoy?"
"Er."
"Harry, you can tell me! I mean, it's not like I want the visual or anything." Ron amended hastily. "I was just sort of wondering. After all, you know how far I've gone with Hermione."
"Ron, you didn't have to tell me you've groped Hermione's breasts. I could see it for myself, considering the fact I walked in on you." Harry sounded slightly pained, but underneath that fairly amused.
There was another creak of bedsprings and Draco had to fight not to snicker audibly. "Well? We should talk about these sorts of things. It's what guys do! Blimey, you should hear Charlie go on sometimes."
"Okay, okay! God, I can't believe I'm telling you this. Well, we've sort of um. Gone you know. All the way."
"All the -?"
"All the way."
"You - with him?
"With Draco."
"Don't tell me you want details too, Weasley?" Draco drawled, finally dropping the charade of sleep. Harry jumped a little and the Weasel actually shrieked briefly in surprise. It was, disappointingly enough, not quite the girly scream Draco was hoping for, but in any case the dramatic flare of saying that line at just that moment was quite satisfying.
"Fuck! Don't do that Malfoy!"
"Draco! How long have you been awake?"
Draco sat up, resting his back against Harry's chest and smirking at Weasley who was glaring at him from the bed across from them. "Long enough. Now, don't let me stop your little chat. It was quite fascinating. Educational, some might even say."
"Oh, I'm sure." Harry said dryly.
"So, just to be clear on this, there will be no pounding of my beautiful face, correct?"
"Correct." There was a short moment of expectant silence while Harry waited for his friend to agree. "Ron." The dark haired boy sent his best friend a look.
"Oh, fine. Alright. I'm not going to beat you up for. Eurgh. Shagging Harry. Anything else though is fair game, so keep your nasty insults to yourself."
Draco nodded. "Fair enough. Now, if you don't mind, I'm off to use the loo. Try not to ravish my boyfriend while I'm away, hmm? After all, you seemed a bit too interested in our sex life for my comfort." Draco slid out of bed, cocking a pale eyebrow at them both.
Harry simply covered his face while Ron burned a brilliant shade of red out of sheer embarrassment. "Just go, Draco." The dark haired Gryffindor ordered him, his voice muffled behind his hands.
"As you wish." He made a sardonic bow in their direction and hotfooted it before the Weasel decided it would be more satisfying to break his nose than keep his promise to Harry.
Draco was quite happy with the Harry had so calmly dealt with the situation. He had missed the part where Ron had discovered Harry and Draco in each other's arms, but from what he could tell the whole conversation had gone exceptionally well. Certainly, the fact Draco had survived with all his limbs in tact was nothing to scoff at. There went all his plans to flee to France. Ah, well. He'd take Harry over escargot and silly muggle Eiffel towers any day.
*
The crashing sounds and clangs of numerous frantic Weasleys echoed up the stairs and down the hallway, making Draco wince. The sounds were loud, even through the Weasel's door. Yesterday, the weather had cleared and he'd spent most of the day playing Quidditch with Harry and the others. After an afternoon of hard flying he had gone to bed early, which meant he'd woken up early too and had been able to use the bathroom without any competition. Unfortunately for Harry, who had slept in, all the Weasleys were now awake and demanding to use the loo. The bathroom had turned into an impromptu battleground as each teenager attempted to gain control of the facilities.
Draco had retreated to Ron's bedroom to let the others duel it out, smelling spring fresh and squeaky clean which had earned him a few hard glares from those who hadn't thought to get up earlier. Breakfast had been a quick affair of eggs and bacon, hurriedly eaten before the horde of redheads could join him at the table. He was currently reading the Daily Prophet in Ron's room, courtesy of his recently renewed subscription. His mouth was twisted in a displeased frown as he scanned the pages of the newspaper. There had been three Death Eater attacks in the past week and though the Prophet didn't actually come out and say it, there was only one group of murderous robed terrorists Draco was aware of. Seven muggles had been killed, two severely injured, three wizards killed, and a great deal of property burned to the ground.
It didn't make for merry morning reading.
"Malfoy."
Draco lifted his head just in time to see Ron Weasley step into the room and slam the door shut behind him. He had a determined, angry expression on his face and a hard look in his eyes. Draco wet his lips nervously, suddenly wondering just where Harry was.
"Weasel." Draco drawled, turning the page of his newspaper as if unconcerned at the other boy's presence. The redhead favored him a look that, if it could kill, would probably have gutted him right there. His shoulders tensed when he heard the other boy approach, but he was actually started when he felt the other boy's hand against his collar before Weasley hauled him off the bed. "What exactly do you think you're doing?" Draco tried to push out of Ron's grasp, to no avail.
Weasley merely hauled the Slytherin up higher, making Draco wince when his collar went taut against his throat. "What I need to! We're going to have a little chat, Malfoy." Ron was really very tall, taller than the twins even, and his lanky frame was a good deal more solid than Draco's own slender body. In a physical confrontation, it was a forgone conclusion that Weasley could kick his arse to Hogsmeade and back.
"Oh?" He replied, still playing it cool and keeping his voice even. The fingers of his left hand twitched slightly as he wished to feel the smooth length of his wand securely in his grip. His right hand was busy gripping Weasley's wrist to keep himself from choking.
"That's right." The Weasel shoved him up against the wall with unexpected violence, jamming his forearm under Draco's throat, forcing his head back and his breath to come in short, shallow pants. Now Draco was actually afraid and he shifted uneasily on the tips of his toes. In this position, they barely reached the floor. Fuck, where was Harry?! Draco sent a longing glance towards the door and Weasley caught it and grinned. "Harry's busy eating breakfast if you're wondering Malfoy, so don't expect him to come to your rescue."
"I don't need Harry to fight my battles for me, Weasel." Draco spat, still hanging in the other boy's grip like a kitten would if it were being held by the scruff of it's neck. "And I promise if you do anything stupid I'll make you regret it!" All the poisonous venom of a wronged Slytherin was in his voice and it made Weasley a little more wary, which was only sensible considering the fact Draco knew a hell of a lot of dark curses and wasn't picky about giving fair warning to his victims before casting them.
"Listen, you disgusting little git!" Weasley all but roared. "I'm only going to warn you ONE time! If you do anything to hurt Harry, ever, I'll beat you so badly your bastard of a father will feel it! You understand me?!" His forearm was pushed heavily against Draco's throat to punctuate his question, making Draco wheeze slightly.
"Perfectly." Draco grit out and the Weasel released him with a disbelieving and slightly disgusted snort. He rubbed at his sore and slightly bruised throat, throwing a nasty glare at the other boy. "And if you ever do that again I'll return the favor."
Weasley grimaced. "I don't know why I even bother, Malfoy. This - this thing between you two won't ever work! Sooner or later Harry'll realize exactly what sort of scum you are and finally have the sense to leave you! And when he does I'll be laughing my arse off at you."
"That just goes to show you have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Draco sneered back, brushing past the other boy on his way out. It was far too early for this sort of thing.
"Yeah, just keep telling yourself that Malfoy."
Draco paused right as he reached the door and glanced over his shoulder, if only because he refused to let the Weasel have the last word. "Oh, go fuck a hippogriff." Stupid, sodding Weasel. Harry was damn lucky he was worth it, his bad taste in best friends not withstanding.
To Be Continued…
Constructive criticism and comments are more than welcome.
