Title: That Sly, Summer Wind (2/?)
Author: Semirhage
Rating: R for sexual situations
Warnings: SLASH! Woohoo! And...Draco, since we all know he needs his own warning. =P
Spoilers: All five books...just to be safe
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Disclaimer: You know I don't own them, because if I did DM/RW and SS/HP would be canon. eg
Summary: Draco wakes up one morning to the wind beating at his window. When he looks upon his lawn, what does he see but a familiar red-haired figure? [Slash, DracoRon]
Author's Notes: Well, I didn't get to the kissing scene here like I intended. But I do plan on making up for it. Promise! Thanks to all my lovely reviewers at and Forever Fandom! Sorry to say that Ron's situation isn't explained here (not truthfully, anyhow) - but why would he tell Draco that, anyway? Gotta work up his emotions first! And I'm also surprised nobody said anything about Draco's parents. ::pout:: Does Lucius mean so little that nobody wants to question me about how he died? =P
Draco approached the dining room with a false step of confidence. He would feel much better if he had taken a long, relaxing bath; instead, he had muttered a cleaning charm that did nothing to soothe his nerves. He had opted to wear a plain, pale green robe - as plain as he possessed, anyway. The embroidery around the cuffs was a sparkling silver, but it was minimal. Hopefully, he would manage to coax a reason out of Weasley quicker this way. Since he had been away from the redhead, he had been able to ponder everything. Why would Weasley be sleeping in his yard, anyway? From what he had heard, the Weasleys were not so low on resources that they would kick their own son from the house...the 'Burrow'.
Pausing for a moment against the wall by the door, Draco ran his hands down the sides of the thin material of his robe, collecting his wits. He had learned that, when dealing with a Weasley, one must remain at his utmost calm, for a Weasley's quick-fire temper was sure to seduce any ill-prepared man to quick, thoughtless actions. After a few deep breaths, he rounded the corner, walking through the open doorway.
His eyes darted across the room, noting the walls and the elegant, sloping ceiling were still in place. After scanning the room for any misplaced objects, Draco let his attention focus on the boy currently seated at his table. One long, pale finger was tracing the designs on the edge of the table, seemingly mesmerising the boy himself. Stray, dirty strands of hair fell erratically across the freckled forehead and intent blue eyes pointedly did not look Draco's way.
In a rush, all his earlier feelings and thoughts returned to his mind. Leading them was the colossal admittance that Weasley did have a certain charm about him - maybe it was not exactly beauty, but he was attractive in a way Draco had never allowed himself to realise before. Why should he desire a Weasley? They were ungainly, boisterous creatures...and he certainly would not ever be able to take the boy anywhere in public. That was a humourous thought, though. What would the wizarding world have to say about it? Ronald Weasley, sidekick and best mate of Harry Potter, amazing and exalted champion of the wizarding world, involved with Draco Malfoy, who helped the precious Order but must have been working for You-Know-Who all along because all Slytherins and especially Malfoys are evil. Evil, evil.
"Why are you staring at me?" a quiet, yet demanding voice asked. Weasley was still staring at the table, though his fingers had stopped following the lines and were instead tightened into fists.
"Weren't you taught proper table etiquette?" Draco quipped. "Of course, I must have forgotten of whom I am speaking. You are still a Weasley, aren't you? Your parents didn't kick you out?"
Weasley jumped, knocking the high-backed chair to the floor and ramming his side into the edge of the table. He winced, placing a hand over his ribs that just had to be aching. The boy gulped, visibly trying to control himself. "Just...forget it, okay Malfoy? Look...I am sorry. I didn't want to wake up and have to deal with a prat I had wanted to forget, much less end up in his house. So just...leave me alone. I'll even eat breakfast if you insist on it."
Great. Defensive Weasley, willing to sacrifice himself to keep his secrets secret. Draco knew all too well that feeling. He had plenty secrets that he had no immediate desire to share with anybody, some he wished that even he did not know. Perhaps he should be sympathetic and pat Weasley on the back and tell him everything would be just fine. Would he? Of course not. "Unless you cast Obliviate on me, Weasley, I can't forget. But since you are here, you did fall asleep on my property, and I did rescue you in the early morning hours, you owe me some explanation. Speak up, because I, unlike some people, don't have all day to roam about aimlessly." Weasley's face had brightened to a crimson hue when he had used the term 'rescued'; by the time Draco had finished speaking, his lips were compressed in restrained ire.
"You didn't rescue me, Malfoy!" he spat, taking a step towards the blonde and raising his fist defiantly - or perhaps threateningly.
"Oh? Then what would you call it? Waking you up when someone could have come along and taken you? This is my property, after all. There's really no telling who might suddenly apparate here. Maybe the reincarnation of Voldemort? A multitude of Death Eaters? Or maybe I'm just keeping you here while I wait for them to arrive." From the way his eyebrows knitted together, Weasley obviously did not think anything Draco had just mentioned would be unlikely at all. Draco clenched his fists; no matter how hard he tried or what he did, he would never live past the suspicious eyes and wary glances.
"I wouldn't put it past you, Malfoy," the redhead spat, glaring down at him.
Yes, down.
A sad trick of fate had made Weasley taller than Draco - sneering up really did not have as much of an impact as sneering combined with a few extra inches. That was one reason Draco envied Severus Snape: he loomed over students - some had even talked about wetting themselves. Now, really. What imbeciles.
"I can see there is nothing I can do to convince you that I am not keeping you here to do something utterly evil to you," Draco drawled. Well, in a manner of speaking...but I would love to humiliate you some more. "So why don't we just get this over with. Tell me what the hell you were doing, and I will let you go."
"Oh, so now I'm a prisoner?" Weasley asked, mouth curling into a snarl.
"Don't be so daft, Weasel," Draco replied. "Why ever would I want to hold you prisoner?"
"Maybe so you could get to Harry." That statement was accompanied by a very obvious glare.
"Yes, he is rather more attractive than you, isn't he?" Draco asked lazily.
Weasley blinked, mouth opening in surprise. Priceless.
"Here you go again - Weasley, do tell me. Your ancestors didn't happen to mate with a fish at any point in time, did they? Because the resemblance between you and the one in my fish tank is absolutely uncanny. Maybe you're related! I could introduce you two - a family reunion, how pleasant."
Instead of replying to the insult, Weasley asked, "You have fish?"
"No, Weasley, I just keep an empty tank full of water," Draco replied sarcastically. "Yes, I have fish."
Obviously, that was not the right kind of pet for an evil Malfoy and Slytherin, for Weasley shook his head. "The surprises will never end," he muttered.
"Actually, I keep them for whenever I get into a particularly nasty mood," Draco stated with a completely straight face. "It keeps me from torturing the house elves."
For a few moments, Weasley stared at him before muttering something Draco could not hear, then, "Fish and torture...what an unlikely combination." A lopsided grin crossed his face, then he said, "You weren't being serious, were you?"
"Am I ever?" Draco drawled. Amazing...they were actually talking without taunting. Wonder how long this will last...
"I don't know. Are you?" A small, hesitant smile replaced the brief grin on Weasley's face.
Resisting the urge to smirk, Draco motioned towards the table. "I'm sure breakfast will be in shortly. Are you sure you don't want to eat anything?"
"Well, I suppose I could...just this once. If you didn't poison me with the potion, I suppose you wouldn't put something in my breakfast," Weasley announced.
"How can you be so certain? It might just be a slow-acting poison so you'll die after you've left my mansion." In response, Weasley rolled his eyes then set the chair he had knocked over back on its feet. "You should be thankful that didn't break. It alone probably costs almost as much as your entire house," Draco muttered as he sat opposite the redhead.
"Then I guess I wouldn't be paying to replace it, would I?" Weasley snapped as he slumped into his chair.
"In that case, you'd have to start working for me. I'm sure I could find some jobs for you to do around here." Several that immediately spring to mind...only the most dirty, disgusting jobs for a Weasley. Then there are several alternatives that bring about a completely different kind of dirty...
Weasley glared but surprisingly did not open his mouth. Smirking, Draco wondered if he was trying to prove him wrong about the whole fish debate.
A pop crackled the air and Draco looked to his left to see Eakley bearing a tray full of different kinds of breakfast foods and some that were not meant for breakfast. "Eakley made Master's favourites," the house-elf said proudly as he set the dishes on the table before Ron and Draco. "Is Master needing anything else?"
"No. You may leave," Draco responded. Another pop, and the creature was gone. When he glanced back at Weasley, the boy was frowning at him while digging his teeth into his lower lip. "Sickle for your thoughts?" he queried curiously.
"Just...I don't know...expected something different, that's all."
"Very eloquent, Weasley."
Another glare, then the redhead turned to the food placed before him. He prodded a few things with his fork, making a face. Hesitantly, he took a sniff, then prodded it again.
Rolling his eyes, Draco took a bite of his own food. When he glanced back at Weasley and saw he was still not eating, he snapped, "It's not going to bite you!"
"But, it's...it's...yucky looking."
Oh, so verbose. "Escargot is not yucky looking, as you so expertly call it."
"That's escargot?" Weasley asked, making a disgusted face. "You eat that with breakfast? Eww, isn't that like...snails or something?"
"Honestly, Weasley," Draco sighed. "You have absolutely no taste. Escargot is one of the finer points in life. And no, I don't usually divulge during breakfast, but that damn house-elf decided I was going to this morning."
"Oh," the redhead said, still eyeing the delicacy warily...as if it was going to jump at him.
Draco picked a piece between two of his fingers and extended it across the table. "Try it," he offered.
"Nnn-o." Flat refusal.
Sighing, Draco stood and leaned across the table, pressing the food against the stubbornly clamped mouth. "Just try it."
More caution, then Weasley slowly opened his mouth, eyes glued to Draco's face. He leaned forward slightly, catching the food between his teeth - consequently, the two extended fingers as well. Draco hissed quietly when he felt a tongue slip between his digits and loosen the escargot from his grip. He slowly pulled his fingers from the wetness of the boy's mouth, but allowed them to linger nearby.
Weasley swallowed, then licked his lips as though trying to decide whether he liked it or did not. "It was...different," he finally said, looking at Draco's fingers. "Malfoy, I..."
Scowling, Draco retrieved his fingers and rested them in his lap. "Why did you decide to come here instead of visiting Potter or Granger?" he prodded. No, he was not going to give up. Not until he had an answer he was satisfied with. And a change of conversation was nice.
"I couldn't, okay? I couldn't go to Harry or Hermione..."
Arching an eyebrow, Draco impaled a piece of bacon on his fork and delicately raised it to his mouth. "Oh?" he asked before taking a bite. After he had swallowed, he continued, "Why is that?"
"Well...Hermione is studying in France - she said something about Advanced Arithmancy, but everything else was lost on me-"
Draco snorted. "No surprise there," he muttered under his breath.
"And Harry," Weasley continued as if Draco had not said anything, "is taking a vacation. Somewhere. With someone."
Draco raised an eyebrow at that information, but did not comment about it. He had no desire to know who Potter was shagging. "So... They abandoned you?" That still does not explain what he was doing on my lawn.
Shaking his head, Weasley took a big bite of food. "No," he said, still chewing. "Not abandoned. Harry deserves a break-" swallow - "after everything he's been though. And Hermione loves studying. Even if I don't understand what she talks about anymore."
Deciding that if Weasley did stay, he would have to be taught proper table etiquette, Draco shrugged. "So, what was it that led you to fall asleep on my property?" he asked.
Throwing his hands into the air, Weasley exclaimed, "Do you always have to be this...Arg!"
"Determined?" Draco offered, carefully placing his fork on the correct side of his plate, making a big deal of it since Weasley did not. "I simply think it is fair for me to have an explanation."
"Okay, fine," Weasley answered. "I accidentally apparated here and hit my head on the tree. So I was unconscious. And you happened by and...woke me up."
Rolling his eyes, Draco took a sip of his drink. "Now, Weasley, I'm not so vapid as to accept that as the truth."
"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But you said you wanted an explanation. I gave you one." Weasley stuck out his chin stubbornly, clamped his lips tight shut, and dared Draco with his eyes to ask for more information.
"I would stick around and pry more from you, Weasley, but I have papers to look through," Draco announced as he sat his goblet on the table and stood. "You can...amuse yourself while I'm gone."
"I'm not going to stay!" Weasley exclaimed hastily.
"Do you have anywhere else to go?" Draco asked sharply.
Shoulders sagging, the redhead clenched his fists. "Fine, whatever. Is there something I can do?" From the way his eyes flitted about the room, he had heard - or seen - what had happened to the mansion. And he was offering to help. Maybe pigs could sprout wings and fly.
"Find Eakley. He's the house-elf in charge of the renovation process. He can find you something to...fill your time." Nodding slightly, Draco left the room, feeling hot eyes on his back until he rounded the corner.
At least this time he was not sporting a hard-on, but... Draco's mouth quirked slightly, wondering what Ron would think of the work he was sure to be given. At least a Weasley would not throw a fit at having to do something nasty, considering the state of the house they were raised in.
More importantly, he had spent all breakfast with the damned boy and all he received was the most ridiculous explanation he had ever heard. That was so idiotic it had to be untrue. Who would apparate somewhere and knock themselves unconscious in the process? And accidental apparation? He had to admit that if anyone could manage it, that person would be a Weasley. Or a Gryffindor. And Ron happened to be both.
He would deal with that later. For now he had heaps of paperwork, letters to answer... Being the Mr. Malfoy was a pain in the arse sometimes.
Fin Part Two!
Well. Well, well. So...I'm still thinking one more chapter, then maybe an epilogue, depending on what you all decide after reading what I have to say in chapter three. So...give me reviews 'cause they make me happy. . And don't forget to come back for the third part! (Like I'd let you forget, anyway! ::grins:: Especially if you're on one of the R/D lists!)