Gryffindor Colors

or

Redheaded Stepfather

A Harry Potter crackfuck

By

EvilFuzzy9

Rating: M

Genre: Humor/Parody

Characters/Pairings: Narcissa M., Ron W., Dumbledore; [Roncissa crack]

Summary: The reasoning of pureblood fanatics is incomprehensible to anyone halfway normal, and even Harry Potter is close enough to ordinary to find himself at a loss for how on earth Narcissa Malfoy so suddenly became Mrs. Ronald Weasley. [crackship, crackfic, crack premise; Roncissa, lemon-scented]

WARNING: This fanfic depicts activities of an adult nature between fictional characters. The author of this fic strongly discourages minors from reading this, and also from participating in any and all such activities until they are at the age of majority/consent as defined in the laws or customs of their state or principality.

(...)

The farewell of Ron and Narcissa in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was one quite fitting to a pair of newlyweds, if not entirely appropriate to be done in the presence of the headmaster and their son. And their son it is said, although the thought was even more surreal to Ron than his marriage to Narcissa, and also had fewer benefits attached. But husband and wife said goodbye for the present, and they lingered for as long as they could remotely justify in each other's arms.

"See you soon, Cissa," he said, holding her in a tight embrace, after a kiss that had been only barely chaste. They kept their hands in check since Draco and Dumbledore were present, but still there was a touch of fresh fire in their eyes, and they could not pretend that there was no enjoyment in their contact. Their bodies were also pressed closer together than was necessarily proper.

Dumbledore smiled blandly and patiently, standing with Fawkes at his shoulder. Draco looked sour-faced at the sight of Ron and his mother embracing so intimately, but he waited stiffly for them to finish and said nothing.

"I know it'll only be two days, but write if you can," Narcissa said once they had broken off and stepped apart.

"I will if Pig isn't taken hostage," Ron said, only half joking. "Mum won't be too happy when she gets our letter, or I don't know anything about anyone."

"I can imagine," said Narcissa wryly. "If I weren't under house arrest, I'd go and talk to her about it myself. As it is, I fully expect to receive a howler within the day." Ron frowned at this, looking like he thought he should say something, but Narcissa waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I deserve at least that much."

Ron smirked.

"Because you're a cradle-robbing temptress?" he said teasingly.

Narcissa's eyes glittered, and her lips quirked up at the corners. She winked.

"Most certainly."

Draco fought the urge to gag.

When Ron left Dumbledore's office, it was getting late into the day and the sun was well past its zenith. But the weather was good, and once he had done a quick check of the common room he concluded that Harry and Hermione must be out on the grounds. So he made his way as inconspicuously as he could down to the entrance hall. There were a few people in the corridors, but not many.

Still, he noticed several of the students he passed giving him strange looks. It made him self conscious, and associating their looks with his disappearance for much of this day and the doubtless rumors of the scene in his dorm that morning, he felt his cheeks grow steadily warmer. In truth, it was likely that most of the people who stared did so rather because of the break in at the Ministry, and the scars on his arms that the sleeves of his robes could not wholly conceal.

In other words, they stared at him chiefly because he was known to be Harry Potter's Best Friend and nigh constant companion, and obviously one of the persons to have been involved in that astonishing affair. Had Ron known this, he would have been torn between a swell of pride and even greater embarrassment. His performance in the events at the Ministry proper had been less than excellent, in his opinion, and while he could perhaps puff up in the knowledge that he had stuck by Harry and gone on that crazy, ill-fated mission, the details of his performance against the Death Eaters were nothing to brag about.

He didn't actually recall much of it past the first engagement in the Hall of Prophecies. He could remember running out with the others, casting wild spells at the black shapes behind, and tumbling through a door into a room, before it got all jumbled. From what the others had been willing to tell him, with varying levels of delicacy, Ron understood he was hit with a curse that sent his head funny.

Past that, those who had been with him wouldn't say much. Ginny was the least reticent on the matter, but the most she told him was that if she hadn't know he was under the effects of a Death Eater's curse, she would have smacked him. Seeing the look he gave her at this, she then clarified that he'd just been acting drunk and stupid."I might have had a laugh at your expense if we weren't busy fighting for our lives," was how she described it.

She also implied, perhaps without meaning to, that his scars had been in some way self-inflicted, or a direct result of his actions while under that unidentified spell. That was not something Ron had been glad to hear, and he'd not since asked for any further particulars. It is needless to say, therefore, that he feelings would have much more conflicted had he known the true reason that he attracted so many more stares than usual as he headed out to the grounds.

As it was, he still felt a little embarrassed when he got outside and started looking for his friends. Not of the fact that he was married, in itself, nor particularly of the fact that it was to a woman old enough to be his mother (if still several years younger than his actual mother). The more he got to know Narcissa the more he liked her, and he certainly wasn't going to complain about her looks.

No, while he was embarrassed for sure, it was only in a vague and general sort of way. It was an awareness of the suddenness of his marriage, perhaps, and the particularly sordid circumstances of the union which he himself still did not completely understand, although Narcissa had explained her actions to him the best she could. He was not ashamed of Narcissa or their marriage, but he did nonetheless feel... reluctant to spread the news just yet.

Were he usually capable of such coldly rational reasoning, he might explain this away as prudence on the grounds that Narcissa was under the protection of the Order, in hiding from You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. But he was not, and really it ultimately came down to a mixture of youthful confusion and insecurity, and a rough but earnest sense of propriety.

So it was with an air of awkward self-consciousness that Ron Weasley came upon his friends. Harry was sitting with a Hermione and Neville, and Luna was there too. Ginny was nearby, seated alongside Dean Thomas. Ron noticed a touch of distance between the latter two, though they still sat rather close.

Casting his gaze wider, he saw pockets of familiar but (to him) nameless students. Seamus Finnegan wasn't too far from the group, and he was chatting rather animatedly with a visibly gobsmacked Lavender Brown. Padma and Parvati Patil were somewhere around there.

A lot of DA members were in this general area, Ron noticed, even if they were spread out a good bit. There were at least a few yards of space between each knot of people, and further out from the lake shore they grew more scattered.

Harry was the first to notice Ron. He looked around at the first sound of footsteps on the grass, or maybe he'd just been glancing around periodically. He certainly looked expectant as he surveyed the grounds, a touch impatient perhaps for something to happen. When his eyes lighted on Ron, though, he half shot up out of the grass.

"There you are," he said, looking at Ron.

"Where did you think I'd be?" Ron answered on reflex. He nodded, then. "Hey, guys."

Those nearby looked up at Ron. Some waved. A few grinned, but not all. Lavender Brown frowned in his direction and scooted closer to Seamus. Ginny looked ready to come over and give him a talking to, or else pull him aside and interrogate him. Hermione was welcoming enough, but a bit reserved in her expression.

"Hello," said the last with a curt but not unfriendly nod. "Everything's fine, then?"

"Fantastic," said Ron flippantly, but also more honestly than not. "They've been settled in."

Everyone present showed some degree of confusion at this, though Harry and Hermione seemed to guess closer to his meaning than the rest. Unsurprising, since they knew more of the details than the rest.

"Who was she, then?" blurted out Neville, who looked at Ron with an expression somewhere between awed and bewildered.

Harry and Hermione tensed, but nobody noticed them. The others who had been in the dorm that morning yet knew no more of the matter than what they'd seen, Dean and Seamus, also came closer, looking intensely curious.

Ron felt his face grow hot, for his part, and he fidgeted nervously.

"Er—that's private," he mumbled, feeling more awkward than ever.

Naturally, rather than deterring inquiry this only encouraged it, and soon Ron found himself inundated with questions from every side. Only Harry and Hermione spared him—they, and Luna Lovegood. With her pale, watery eyes and usual dreamlike expression the blonde surveyed him, unblinking and bizarrely knowing, her processes and reasoning utterly inscrutable if only for how far they were from the norm.

She smiled in that eery, almost vapid way of hers when Lavender suggested that the woman had been a spy at the same time Neville swore he knew her face from somewhere, and calmly and slowly and none too loudly, yet still somehow so clearly and confidently that everyone there hearkened to it, she said:

"Isn't it obvious, though? Clearly she must have been his wife."'

Dean and Seamus snorted back their laughter. Lavender gave Luna a vaguely condescending sort of look, the kind one might give to an innocent young child who betrays their considerable naivety. But Neville eyed Luna thoughtfully, and Ginny looked torn between backing her friend up and trying to brush aside Luna's words.

The other DA members had come round, now, however, and they heard Luna's words and saw the looks on Harry, Ron, and Hermione's faces at the blonde's declaration. Ernie Macmillan, as pompous as ever, strode up and congratulated Ron, seizing his hand and firmly shaking it with perfect cordiality, as though this was nothing at all out of the ordinary.

And when Ron didn't try to correct Ernie or refute Luna's claim, the rest of the DA reached the same unbelievable yet apparently accurate conclusion. Then Ron found himself buried under a sea of questions and congratulations, and everything became a blur of inquiries, pleasantries, and undisguisedly incredulous faces.

He could not begrudge their disbelief.

After an evening spent vaguely explaining, to the best of his abilities, how he and the woman in his bed had wound up husband and wife, to the dissatisfaction of several of the listeners who wanted clearer or more explicit details yet got only general allusions, particularly in regards to his wife's identity and how the two of them had met, Ron retired to the Gryffindor common room with Harry and Hermione. He did not go down to dinner, much to the surprise of his friends.

"'m not hungry," he said evasively in response to their queries. "I had some stuff to eat at—" He tried to say the address, but it seemed the second years in the far corner could hear them, because the fidelius charm would not let him get the words out. After two abortive tries, he shrugged and gestured irresolutely. "—Well, you know."

Harry frowned perplexedly, indicating that he did not know, but Hermione was quick to pick up on it, and she whispered into Harry's ear with a hand over her mouth. He blinked, then, and nodded in understanding.

"Is that where..." he looked furtively around the room, checking to see no one was listening in. There were a couple younger students watching them reverently, and doing a very poor job of hiding it at that.

Ron gave the kids a impatient look and waved them off. They scurried out of the room, chattering excitedly.

"Where what?" he asked Harry, once they had gone.

"Where Malfoy went," Harry said. "Is that where he disappeared to? I haven't seen him all morning, and some of his mates have been acting strange."

Ron nodded.

"He's in hiding, then?" said Hermione, a strange look in her eye.

"Yeah, after what's happened I reckon You-Know-Who wouldn't be too friendly with the git, and half his mates are as good as Death Eaters."

Hermione gave Ron a somewhat reproving glance.

"I don't think it's appropriate for you to talk about him like that," she said. "You're his father now. You should set a better example for him."

"Bloody hell," Ron said, "Don't remind me. That's the horklump on the lawn, that; the one thing I regret in this whole deal. I don't want anything to do with Malfoy, but they're a package deal, him and his mum. Can have one without the other."

"It could be good," Harry said half-heartedly. "You can just ground him if he gets out of line."

"I guess I could, couldn't I? It's a weird idea, though. Mum was always the one doing the grounding and stuff, in our own family. Dad usually just sat back and let her go to work." Ron frowned. "I dunno, but Malfoy's too old for spanking, or else I'm too young to spank him. I don't fancy doing that, either way."

Harry grimaced, appreciating what Ron meant. Hermione reddened.

"I don't think spanking would be appropriate in any circumstance," Hermione said a touch airily. Her eyes were far off, though, and her cheeks were flushed. "It's a bit, well... barbaric, isn't it?"

"Didn't do us any harm," Ron said, shrugging. "I mean it's not exactly fun, but that's the point, isn't it?"

"Well, your parents are nice enough people, and I'm sure they never hit you seriously," Hermione said fairly. "But... no, never mind. Let's not have that conversation."

Ron did not dispute this, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. That was a bullet narrowly dodged. Hermione still had an odd, remote look in her eye, however, as though she were preoccupied with some fascinating mental image. Belatedly she shook her head.

"What do you plan to do about the marriage, though?" she asked, concretely changing the subject. "You still have two more years of school before you."

"I've done my OWLs," Ron said. "And I come of age next year."

"Late in the year," Hermione said. "You don't have any career plans either, do you? You'll be most of the way through sixth year, and by that point there's really no reason why you shouldn't stick through to the end."

Ron flushed. "We can figure something out," he said at length. "I don't want to leave Cissa alone all next year, though. Dunno if I want to be away that long, either. It's... different from family, a wife is. More..."

He gestured uncertainly, at a clear loss for words to describe it. Harry, who'd had some brief experience in the ups and downs of relationships thanks to Cho Chang, nodded vaguely. Hermione also looked relatively sympathetic, if a little tense at the same time.

"You've really warmed to her, haven't you?" Harry said both cautiously and understandingly. One because he still wasn't sure how to feel toward Narcissa, and the other because he was in many things similarly-minded to his friend, and generally wished for his happiness.

"It was hot from the start," was Ron's response, characteristically callow yet not insincere. "If anything, I'd say I've cooled. But that still leaves me real warm, and I feel... well, soft for her, you know? It's not just..."

He gesticulated somewhat crudely with his hands, causing Hermione to blush and look faintly disapproving. Harry nodded slowly.

"You get on with her?" he said.

"Better than I would've expected," Ron answered. "Loads better."

"You can't have much in common, though," Hermione interjected a hair disbelievingly.

"I don't know," Ron said, frowning. "I mean, sure there's subjects we don't touch, and stuff I'm sure we wouldn't agree on, but that still leaves a lot. She... well, it's not that she understands me, I don't think. We're different, and in some pretty big ways. But she tries, and she's so fierce, and when her eyes focus on you it makes you..."

He shivered, and not from any sense of unpleasantness.

"I can't help but want to be a good husband when I look at her, and she's serious about being my wife. I can feel it when we touch. There's just... a fire in her, or some sort of eckletricity that lights up between us. She's hot and cold, cool and warm. She can be real quiet and above it all, but then there are times when she gets this look in her eye and smiles at me, and she seems to melt away, and it makes me turn into warm butter when I see her like that.

"I dunno how much is serious, or how much she really means. Maybe it's just a ploy to keep her and Malfoy safe, and maybe she doesn't really care about me that way," Ron said. He was a touch grim in his manner as he spoke those words, but his eyes flickered and flamed. "Maybe that's what you'll try to tell me. Maybe that's what you're thinking. But I don't want to hear it. I'm sure I sound like a complete prat, but I can't help it. I'm in love," he breathed, staring into the fire. "I think I really love her."

He seemed as bemused by these words as his friends were, and Harry and Hermione stared at him. They were visibly taken aback by his passionate outburst, and he himself soon looked quite embarrassed.

"Bloody hell, where did all that come from?" Ron muttered, passing a hand over his face. "Merlin. I feel... I dunno. I don't have words for it. I like being around her, and she makes me feel good—about things, I mean. About everything. But just listen to me! I've become a total sap. I can't stop talking about her, and thinking about her. I'm terrible. We haven't done anything but talk a lot and fuck a bit, but I've completely lost it."

Hermione reddened at how baldly Ron put the last part. She stared into her lap, not quite able to meet the eyes of either young man; her lips were pursed, and her arms were folded. Harry looked thoughtfully at Ron, not quite frowning, but with a set jaw and searching eyes. He nodded at length and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Congratulations, then," he said. His eyes were a touch distant, and his face seemed less jovial than his tone, but it was only a slight discrepancy, a mere impression of some distraction that drew his thoughts away. "Here's hoping your mum takes the news well."

Ron laughed weakly.

"She'll kill us," he said. "One of us, at least. Maybe partly because of who Cissa is, but mostly because she didn't get to arrange a proper wedding." He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "You know what she's like."

Harry and Hermione shared matching looks at this remark.

Ron dozed off with a contented smile.

A/N: Got Skullgirls on Steam yesterday in an impulse buy. It's fun, if frustrating to pull off the special moves, either because I am bad, or my controller is subpar, or the game just really lags on my laptop sometimes. Which is annoying, since that laptop is a 2016 Lenovo which I bought assuming it would be more powerful than my aging Dell Latitude D620, but I swear to God either the laptop itself is completely underpowered for a cutting edge machine, or Windows 10 is an ungodly inefficient operating system that eats up preposterous amounts of CPU with all its bloody apps.

I'm inclined to think the computer itself is just shoddily made, since from day 1, for instance the A key on it has been dreadfully unreliable and only sometimes acknowledges that it's been pressed. Mind, I am no computer expert, but I guess I just felt like venting a little. But I have a touch of a history with that, I mean, buying a new computer only to find it's nothing like what I expected...

Well, whatever. Here's a new chapter, more importantly.

Updated: 6-5-16

TTFN and R&R!

– — ❤