Author: Cugami
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Summary: There's a way to get Draco out of Death Eaters' hands and right under Voldemort's very nose, even. And Ron takes that chance.
Distribution: For archiving, yes.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter Series copyrighted to JK Rowling and Warner Bros.
Notes: The cliff-climbing is inspired by a French Legend, The Cliff of the Two Lovers (La Cote des Deux Amants). Setting: Post-Hogwarts, they just finished their 7th year. Fact is still a one shot. But, a lot of eyes were watching the one event. And, some of the owners of these eyes began to talk in my head.
The cliff from the legend is the cliff between Ardelle and Seine. The cliff stands where the River Andelle flows into Seine in Normandy. This cliff is known as La Cote des Deux Amants. "Test of Courage" is what I coined for the purpose of this fic.
oooooooo-------------oooooooo
"Everything is set, Draco. This is as far as I will allow such things. I am still disappointed with your decline."
"My apologies, father."
Draco clears his throat just when his father is about to close the door, "One more thing, if I may ask, sir."
"What is it?"
"Who will it be?"
"The youngest son of Arthur Weasley."
And nothing more as the door to Draco's bedchambers closes. He listens, nonetheless. One can never be sure in this manor whether he is truly left alone or not. The hall outside hums back into silence with his father's fading footfalls.
"Weasley, eh?" Draco uncharacteristically drums his fingers against the windowsill as he stares outside with a thoughtful frown. He didn't expect it to be this way.
oooooooo-------------oooooooo
On the day of the event, Draco Malfoy surrenders his wand to his father before taking the port key to the bottom of the cliff. Here stands Ron Weasley, just as Draco remembers him if not a bit taller. Those long limbs will be of great help in this situation, Draco mentally notes. Part of him is still undecided on what to do but, for whatever the outcome will be, his body has already started its preparation half a week early. So many things have changed but the decision is still his.
He says nothing as he takes his place behind Ron, carefully. He will die. He's surer of it now more than ever. Why did he ever agree? Ah yes, if he is to be a pawn and find his end too soon for comfort, he might as well leave with glory.
If I'm going down, so should you.
The vindictiveness of his thought isn't as strong as it used to.
So many questions he wants to ask but they all seem unimportant. The climb is silent with only the rocks and chalks falling off every now and then. If he includes the jeers and cheers, then the whole cliff is beyond his normal tolerance for noise level. Nonetheless, having to cling to someone and see the ground move farther and farther from him do prevent thought processes from functioning with amazing speed.
His grip tightens automatically as Ron's hands slip, causing them to fall about four inches. It is luck that the redhead is able to cling to a bigger rock and is able to keep moving all the while. If not, they both have fallen by now.
Draco can feel the panic from Ron. Panicking is the last thing both of them need.
"Breathe."
He isn't as calm as his voice, though. He gives himself a mental pat on the back, grateful for his control. On normal days, he will allow himself to feel fear and push someone else in the way to shield him from anything. That isn't possible now, is it? He mentally berates himself with sarcasm. He counts how many times he felt stupid for today.
"Use your feet."
He can feel the body beneath him stiffen; likely, with annoyance or building anger. He leans closer so that his lips are right next to the warm ear, "Keep at it. One foothold after another."
Anger.
Good.
Draco smirks, indulging himself in knowing how to push Ron's buttons. The new surge of strength from the young man is certainly a projection of fury. He will pat the weasel if both his hands aren't busy at the moment. He doesn't want to even loosen his old lest he falls and dies.
Speaking of which, he can feel Ron waver, "Focus!"
He looks up and strains to see how far they still have to go. Remarkable. How long had they been doing this?
"Almost there."
The breathing of the other boy comes in hitches and gasps, making Draco genuinely worry. It doesn't sound like Ron can keep doing this anymore and they are so close. Frustrated, he looks up once again and wills the distance to shorten.
Damn. This is too much. There's nothing he can do. He leans closer, tightening his hold onto the other boy. Closing his eyes, he attempts to calm his own breathing. He knows how to affect concentration at least. He just hopes Ron's biological nature isn't as stubborn as the brain the body came with.
"Breathe. In and out. Come on."
Breathe with me.
The next moment that Draco opens his eyes, he can see the black boots of his father. A few more and ---
That's when Draco first felt terror as Ron's fingers twitch and loose their grip. Instincts and reflex sends Draco to let go of Ron's neck and torso to grab the protruding rocks that the pale hands are about to let go of. He digs his fingers tightly between the parted digits, pushing with all his strength to wake Ron's sleeping ones.
"We will not die here, Weasley."
Draco cheats by flattening his feet against the rocks therefore releasing Ron of his weight in this last leg.
After Ron successfully swings one leg over the nearest rock, Draco climbs up without letting go of his death grip on Ron's hands. He yanks Ron's heavy form as hard as possible, stumbling back as he catches their fall.
As soon as his breath returned to him, Draco pushes Ron off his body and stands. Looking up, he watches as his father gives him the coldest look he's ever seen yet.
"Father."
"I am no longer your father."
He gives his father the luxury of respect in not moving until the Death Eaters have all gone. Only then did he move to help Ron up gently. His eyes shift to the closing portal where his past and almost future fades, almost smiling. Despite all things, he will be grateful to Lucius Malfoy for granting him to make his own choice.
"You're barefoot."
Draco turns to look at Ron, allowing the barely alive young man to lean against
him heavily. He can feel the renewed strength in the tugging hands, "What
do you think you're doing?"
" --- your robes."
"It's the lightest material I have."
It's almost worth it to be honest to see Ron's face contort into an unimaginable
amount of torn expressions. Only this person can make that many faces in a span
of five seconds.
"I don't know what to say---"
He can hear other people getting closer and turn to look at the source.
Then, he replies, "You can start with calling me Draco from now on."
He is pushed aside by Granger and Potter. Not the people he wants to see but
he lets them, for now. Let them dote on the man who braved the cliff.
"Is there something wrong, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco remembers that voice, Ron's father.
When blue eyes caught his among the crowd, Draco feels a small tug on his lips.
"I don't see why there should be, Mr. Weasley."
How things have changed, indeed. He begins the week believing he can satisfy
his father one last time without having to become a pawn of Voldemort for all
his life. Then, he stops eating by half of the week. He starts this day knowing
he will die. He is carried halfway up, knowing he can still end it all for the
both of them by pushing his weight.
And as the task nears its end, he realizes he wants to live.
Draco Malfoy learns what it's like to want to live, and earn it.