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 last day of term came and went. A good (if somewhat somber) farewell feast was had, and the students were sent home on the Hogwarts Express. Little could be said about the ride to London. As all the other times before, Ron and Harry and Hermione enjoyed their last hours together before the weeks of separation that came with summer break.
Hermione seemed to have let go of her annoyance with Ron's marriage, and was once more as friendly as ever. They played exploding snap and talked about their plans for the summer. Harry seemed a little distant, and faintly morose, but Ron and Hermione put this down to the death of Sirius. Either way, they had a decent enough time, setting aside all worries about the future to enjoy the present while they could.
(Luna, Ginny, and Neville were there, too.)
A brief tussle ensued when Crabbe and Goyle came into the compartment demanding to know where Malfoy had disappeared to. It was clear from the looks on their faces that they did not come as friends of Draco, and had the occupants of the car been unarmed muggles the duo might have been quite intimidating.
But against trained witches and wizards armed with wands, physical size and strength were really only useful if accompanied by innate resistance to magic. And for all their resemblance to the like of trolls and giants in manner, smell, and wit, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were ultimately just dull, musclebound humans outnumbered 3-to-1 by persons with superior intellect and magical prowess.
Leaving the pair's shapeless, hex-riddled forms groaning on the compartment floor, Ron and friends disembarked.
Ron was almost immediately caught up in a whirlwind of red hair and freckles, accosted by family members with everything from congratulations to expressions of disbelief to churlish disapproval. Mrs Weasley was the most vocal and forward of the pack, and she seemed to vacillate between ill-disguised annoyance and tearful sentimentality. She flipped rapidly back and forth from one state to another, enough words and energy to equal the whole rest of her family.
Harry and Hermione were only able to say their goodbyes after waiting several long moments for the chaos that was the Weasley family to die down into a relative stillness. Then, after a final farewell, and with a promise to meet again as soon as may be, the three friends parted ways.
Ron was then taken by hand and led out of the platform with his luggage and Ginny's in tow. It took him a moment of mentally counting heads, once they were outside in King's Cross Station, and a second look at the hand holding his, to realize that one of the people here was a stranger to him. She was a redhaired woman with freckles, looking like she might have been an older female cousin, but Ron could not recall any cousins who looked like this.
She put a finger to her lips when he was about to speak, and something about her posture and the look in her eyes caused him to go silent, almost as if with a sudden recognition. His mum looked distastefully at his hand, which was being held by this woman, but most of the rest of his family seemed, at least presently, to be ambivalent.
They loaded themselves and their stuff onto the Knight Bus. Ron was somewhat surprised by this, because the fare for the whole lot of them seemed like it should have been prohibitively high for his family's tightly managed finances. But there seemed to be no problem about the cost, and they crowded into a niche between other, smaller families that had also chosen to take the bus home from King's Cross.
It was a bit before they took off, though. Others were still coming on, and the bus's interior space was stretched to its limits to accommodate them all. Ron watched the influx with some slight degree of growing apprehension, wondering how things would turn once they were home.
For that matter, he briefly wondered where his home now was. At the very least, his wife lived in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. And thinking of his wife, he turned to the unfamiliar redheaded woman who was still holding his hand. Something about her sly smile confirmed his suspicions, and he nodded silently.
They said nothing, but they didn't need to.
He knew this was Narcissa.
The Weasleys got off at the Burrow. Narcissa's hair was growing lighter when they went inside the house. Ron felt self-conscious about their surroundings and worried what his wife would think of them, but Narcissa was perfectly tactful and pleasant. He asked where Draco was, and she said he'd stayed behind at the headquarters with Snape, who had dropped in as soon as the students had been sent off on the Hogwarts Express.
Ron was concerned at this, but Narcissa brushed off his worries with a calm smile and a few confident words. Her face was back to its native shape shortly after they were inside the house, and Ron was lost in quiet appreciation of this fact when his dad interjected.
"Well, Ron," Arthur said in a tone that screamed awkwardness in every syllable, nervously clearing his throat. "Er, and Narcissa. Sit down, why don't you? It's about time we had a short talk."
Bill was present, and so was Fleur Delacour, oddly enough (although it took Ron several minutes to notice her presence). Fred and George were there too, and Ginny as well, obviously, plus their parents Molly and Arthur. Only Charlie and Percy, of the immediate family, were not in attendance.
The den was fairly crowded, yet also quieter than Ron could ever remember hearing it. When his siblings (and Fleur) were subsequently dismissed from the room, it did little to alleviate his anxiety.
A long, awkward silence reigned as the four remaining settled into seats.
Molly looked despairingly from her youngest son to his wife. She seemed tired rather than angry, as though she had exhausted all her emotions at King's Cross, and Ron was unsure what she would do or say. He had received no response to the letter he had sent his parents informing them about his and Narcissa's sudden marriage.
Arthur looked thoughtfully at the plain, rune-scribed iron band on Ron's ring finger. His expression was neutral, not forcibly so but naturally, as if he had no clear opinions about the present state of things. His eyes were intent and contemplative, and if there was anything to note about his mien then it was only the complete seriousness.
"You're married," said Molly in a soft, barely audible voice, addressing her youngest son.
"I am," Ron answered, almost without thinking.
"To... her," Molly continued, looking askance at Narcissa. Her expression was worth a million words, and very few of them were positive. "When? How? Why?"
"Not long ago at all, we assure you," Narcissa courteously replied. "Sometime in the morning of the day we sent you the news."
Molly pursed her lips.
"I can't say we approve of this," Arthur said, looking steadily at his son. "It doesn't seem... well, like something you ought to have done. Not so suddenly, at least. How did it happen? I can't believe the two of you were in contact for very long beforehand."
"It... just happened, like that," said Ron, turning a delicate shade of pink. "I can't really explain. It all went really fast, and before I knew it we were married."'
He shrugged, smiling a touch weakly at Narcissa.
Molly narrowed her eyes.
"You're not telling us the whole truth," she said.
"It's not proper to say too much," answered Narciss. "A man must naturally have his secrets, and his wife also. Our courtship was not—" She paused momentarily. "—long, perhaps, and certainly our union was rushed, but I assure you that I am wholehearted in my devotion, and I swear do right by Ronald as his wife, and by his family also. You have received notice by now about the... dowry, I suppose?"
Molly colored at this. Arthur cleared his throat.
"We have," he said, looking uncomfortable.
"And it was to your liking, I assume?"
"Er, well, I wouldn't call it a matter of like or dislike," said Arthur, clearly flustered. "I mean it was quite a large sum, and I won't deny that, um—"
He cut off at a loss for words. Weakly, he shrugged.
"You can't buy our favor," said Molly steadfastly. "I don't approve of you taking advantage of our son."
"I assure you," answered Narcissa cordially, "Our relationship is mutual. Ron takes just as much advantage of me."
Ron blushed hotly.
"Well really, now..." Molly spluttered, looking all the testier.
Narcissa continued to smile serenely. She squeezed Ron's hand, and he squeezed back. A touch of resolution entered into his face.
"I love her," Ron said, addressing his parents. "I—er, know it's real sudden, but I'm glad we're married. I'm her husband, and that's that. I love her."
"Do you mean that?" Arthur wondered, eyeing his son thoughtfully.
"I do," said Ron calmly, yet with a certain slight forcefulness in his tone. "I've only known her a little while, but I mean what I say. Cissa's my wife, and I love her. She's part of the family, now."
Ron said this last part with almost a hint of defiance, and his eyes kindled as they met those of his parents. Putting an arm around Narcissa, he pulled her close. Ron was a head taller than Narcissa, and the difference in their age seemed much less pronounced like this. Something about him seemed older, and something about her more youthful, sitting so close together.
Something in Arthur's expression seemed to soften, and he nodded almost imperceptibly, shrugging in a good natured way. He did still appear to look a touch curiously at Narcissa, but much of the doubt was gone from his eyes.
Arthur clasped his hands and nodded again, more pronouncedly.
"Well, if you're sure about this," he said reasonably. "I must admit it's still a bit of a shock, but so long as you're happy..."
Molly looked less ready to back down. She was protective of her children, and clearly mistrustful of Narcissa. Not without fair reasons, either, considering the woman's past associations.
"You better not have been involving our Ronnie in some scandal," she said tensely to Narcissa.
"I only approached him after my divorce from Lucius," said Narcissa. "If before I knew he was dead."
She sounded a little somber at this last bit.
"Do you miss him?" asked Molly.
"I regret that he is dead," replied Narcissa simply. "And I know Draco is upset at the loss of his father."
"You don't miss him, then?"
"Of course I miss him," said Narcissa with a touch of asperity. "I loved him, once. I loved him the way any girl would love a man, when we were young. But that was many years ago. I do not regret marrying Lucius when I did, but I do regret what involvement I had with his... society."
Molly was silent for a moment. She peered into Narcissa's eyes with a searching, scrutinizing gaze. Were she a legilimens of any capacity, the intensity of her inspection would surely have uncovered every deepest secret in Narcissa's heart.
"What are your feelings for our son, then?" she asked curtly. "And what are your intentions toward him?"
"Love," said Narcissa plainly. "And other feelings less appropriate to name."
Molly and Arthur both colored at the insinuation.
"But I love him as deeply and truly as I have ever loved anyone," Narcissa continued unfazed. "Moreso, perhaps, because I have known love and loss enough to be wiser and more aware of my own heart. And as far as my intentions—well, what more can be said, when I have already married him? But if you ask, I will say that I intend to be a wife to Ron, and as good a wife as any woman ever was to a man. What else can I say but that?"
Molly seemed to relent at this.
Just a little.
Perhaps she felt sincerity in Narcissa's words, or maybe she was simply mollified by Narcissa's courteous speech. Whatever the cause, she nodded and waved a hand, as if signalling an end to the discussing.
"Fine, fine," she said with an air of begrudging concession. "Very well. If you mean what you say, then—well, I suppose I can give you my blessing. For now."
"Thank you," said Narcissa demurely, bowing her head. "I will do everthing in my capacity as a wife to support Ron, and to do right by his family."
Molly eyed Narcissa somewhat haughtily.
"We'll see," she said critically. "Can you cook?"
"Not especially well," Narcissa confessed. "But I do know how."
Molly nodded curtly.
"That will have to do," she said. "Come along, then. Let's get started on dinner."
Looking just a little bit out her depth, Narcissa glanced at Ron, and they exchanged a brief kiss, aught more than a fleeting peck of the lips, before getting up to follow Molly out into the kitchen.
Ron watched his wife go with some appreciation, following her back until she had vanished through the doorway.
Then he and his dad were left alone in the den.
"You can tell me the truth, son," Arthur said in a soft voice, leaning toward Ron. "I know what those kinds of rings mean, and what sort of magic is involved with that kind of marriage. So does your mother, I imagine. How did it rea;;u happen?"
"You, er, won't tell anyone?" said Ron, blushing.
"I won't tell your mother," said Arthur reassuringly.
Ron nodded, accepting this.
"Well, the thing came first," he said sheepishly. "Out of the blue, really. I woke up in the middle of the night and we were, um... together, and it just sort of happened from there. I didn't understand a bit of it, at the time. I just thought it was a dream. But when I woke up, she was, er, still in bed with me. After that, I sort of learned the rest."
"I see," said Arthur absently, looking not unconcerned. "You don't think she was...?"
"Maybe she had her own reasons for it," said Ron quietly. "But I don't regret that it's happened, whatever the case. I'm glad for it, honestly. I wasn't lying when I said I love her."
Slowly, Arthur smiled and patted his son on the shoulder.
"I suppose that's good enough for me," he said. "Come on, then. I'm sure the others will be dying for news."
Ron nodded and got up to let the others back into the den.
"You sly dog!" said Fred, laughing. "I never would have thought you had it in you. Getting married to a rich older witch? And one as fit as that, too! We underestimated you, little brother."
He looked appreciatively at Ron, and George was grinning broadly beside him. Ron looked slightly flushed, for his part. Ginny sat in the same general vicinity as them, though she contributed less than they to the conversation.
Bill was talking to Arthur, but he also seemed to be paying attention to his younger siblings.
"Er, thanks," Ron mumbled, feeling pleased on the one hand with the tone of the twins' words, which was presently less teasing than their wont. Though they certainly still took the piss out of him in their own special way.
But on the other hand he felt a little flustered by their attention, and his mind was much distracted with glimpses of Narcissa out in the kitchen.
She seemed to be doing okay for herself, all things considered. Ron had half-guiltily offered to help a little bit after the brief talk with his dad, but Narcissa had promptly shooed him back out of the kitchen. Not ungratefully, mind. Rather she seemed to see helping with this dinner as a matter of pride, a kind of battle against her new mother-in-law, and did not want help from her husband. She was doing fairly well for herself, too, despite prior disclaimers about her cooking.
Although that might have been helped, perhaps, by the fact that Fleur was also in there to lend a hand to Narcissa. But the French, younger witch was quick with her critiques, and very set in her own way of doing things. Despite the glamor of Fleur's veela blood, Ron had felt a little annoyed to hear her early rebuke Narcissa's lackluster beginning efforts. Not that she was explicitly unkind, in her criticisms, unless in an obliviously insensitive sort of way for which Ron was in no position to judge her or anyone else.
Well, who could say. Maybe it was just a cultural thing? Whatever the case, Narcissa actually seemed to get along rather well with Fleur. Perhaps it was the fact that both of them met with a certain common disapproval from Molly, and so banded together in the face of this shared adversary. Or maybe it was a common appreciation for tall, freckled, gingers. Cheerful cordiality marked their interactions, either way.
"She's a real looker, that's for sure," George agreed, breaking the silence. He gestured a bit crudely, tracing an hourglass shape in the air. "Just a shame about her son. Dreadful to think he's a part of the family, now. But I suppose the money makes up for that."
Ron shrugged. "I guess," he said noncommittally.
Honestly, he'd barely thought about Narcissa's money at all. It had only once or twice really crossed his mind, during the past couple days. More often his thoughts about the marriage had centered on Narcissa herself, and the few pleasant and pleasurable experiences the two of them had shared so far.
He tried not to think about the fact that he was legally Draco's step-father.
"What are you going to do, though? About your wife, I mean, and Malfoy. Where will you all live? Not here, surely." Ginny piped up, interjecting on the conversation. She said the word with a slightest hint of challenge. Clearly she felt no great love for Narcissa. "They're in hiding from You-Know-Who, aren't they?"
Ron gave a start at this, surprised. He hadn't told Ginny those aspects of his and Narcissa's situation. Indeed, he'd given his sister only the barest details possible about the circumstances around his marriage.
"How did you—?"
"Not everyone's as dense as you are, Ron," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "I can read and pay attention to my surroundings. Lucius is dead. So is Bellatrix. And Crabbe and Goyle weren't just on a friendly social call, either, when they came into our compartment."
Ron shifted in his seat.
"...Yeah," he conceded. "You're right. Cissa went to Dumbledore to ask for his protection the night we were married." Technically this was entirely true, though the framing of the statement was deceptive in regard to what it suggested about the sequence of events. "She and Malfoy have been staying at headquarters since then."
Fred cocked an eyebrow at this.
"Huh. Is that really safe, I wonder?" he remarked, side-eyeing Ron.
"Don't look at me," Ron said. "It wasn't my decision. But I trust Cissa."
"You trust your wife," said George, shrugging along with Fred. "Sure. Fair enough. But what about her son?"
". . ."
Ron did not answer this. He coughed into his fist and cast his eyes around the room, looking for a change of subject.
He spied Bill coming by and called out to him. Not that loudly, but enough to be heard.
"Oh. Hey, Ron," Bill said, greeting his youngest brother. He looked a mix of thoughtful and awkward. "Er, I've already congratulated you on your marriage, haven't I? But congratulations again. I'm still surprised, you know. I was sure I'd be the first of us to get married."
His eyes flicked over to the kitchen, where Fleur was chatting with Narcissa while an appetizing smell wafted out into the den. Molly stood by, listening and keeping a close eye on dinner as it cooked, not making much active contribution to whatever the two blondes were discussing.
"Yeah, so would I have. But Fleur, huh?" said Ron, looking at Bill in a jokingly critical light. "I've got to say I'm surprised she'd go for you."
Bill laughed.
"I could say the same for you about Narcissa," said he. "It's surreal, make no mistake. I'm glad for you, though, and not just because—"
"—not just because she's rich?" Ron guessed.
"Right." Bill nodded, chuckling. "But at the same time, I have to admit that I'm also a little..." He paused, uneasy. "Well, when I think about it, it's still kind of..."
He trailed off lamely, unable or unwilling to elaborate further.
"Suspicious, isn't it?" Ginny concluded for him. "No offense," she supplied with dubious sincerity. "But it's hard to believe that a former Death Eater—or a Death Eater's ex-wife, same difference—" she added at a look from Ron. "—would shack up with you out of the blue. Not without some ulterior motive."
The looks on Fred and George's faces told that they felt similarly to Ginny, for all their joking and congratulations. Ron scoffed, however.
"I already said I trust her," he said intransigently.
"Is it really that you trust her?" wondered George skeptically.
"Or do you just like fucking her?" added Fred in an undertone. "She's a pretty thing, no mistake, and I don't doubt she's got some serious experience with wand handling, too."
Ron spluttered indignantly. Bill's cheeks colored a tad.
Ginny smiled dispassionately.
"Right. Does she ask you to punish her, Ron?" she said drily. "I bet Cissy likes to get spanked hard and called all sorts of awful names, doesn't she? And I'm sure she acts real eager, too, to get down on her knees and suck your—"
"Ginny!" said Bill weakly, looking faintly aghast. "Where'd you ever learn to talk like that?"
Ginny directed a bluntly pointed look at the twins.
For their part, Fred and George looked only a little less unpleasantly surprised than Bill by their sister's vulgar insinuations. Of course, Bill himself was now eyeing them a little disapprovingly. As for Ron, he appeared less affected by the baldness of Ginny's speech than by her aspersions on Narcissa.
"It's not like..." he mumbled protestingly. "...I mean, there's loads more to what we've got than that. It's not just sex with me and Cissa."
"But there is sex?" said Ginny flatly. She read the answer in Ron's blush. "Yes," she continued confidently. "I bet Cissy does all kinds of embarrassing things to get on her dear new husband's good side. Does she say you're the best she's ever had, for instance, or the biggest she's ever seen? Or maybe she swallows and tells you how much she loves the taste."
Ron's cheeks flamed to a shade of red brighter and more vibrant that even his hair.
"Oh Merlin, she really does!" Ginny quietly exclaimed, choking back a laugh. "I don't know which of you to feel sorrier for. That's just..." She shook her head. "Trust me, Ron, she's lying."
Fred and George looked strangely from Ron to Ginny. It was hard to define the looks on their faces, apart from a twinge of something between envy and embarrassment. They laughed with Ginny's words, but it was a little insincere.
Bill turned as red as Ron, and his eyes again peered out into the kitchen, gluing themselves onto Fleur. Something about his demeanor suggested an abashed recognition or familiarity with something in Ginny's words.
"Or not. Maybe she really means it, who can say?" Ginny smoothly added a moment later, amused by her brothers' reactions. Brown eyes glittered mirthfully at the looks this verbal appendix now stirred on their faces.
Ginny had to bite her lip to keep from laughing just at seeing their expressions!
Bill in particular was looking at Fleur as though he had been just shallowly reassured against some suspicion of duplicity on her part, and now desperately committed himself to an honestly irrationally redoubled faith in her integrity. He looked like a muggle exposed to magic then given a barely passably mundane explanation to which he clung as adamantly as to a lifeline.
Fred and George didn't look much more dignified than Bill, although their eyes didn't stare at specific. But Ron, strangely, seemed the least ruffled by Ginny's words. He appeared more irked than troubled, annoyed with her on principle rather than upset by any doubt. This was doubly peculiar considering Ron's usually sensitive pride and stupidly pronounced insecurities.
Well. Maybe getting hitched Narcissa had done him some good after all.
Ginny shook her head, mildly bemused.
It was still unbelievable. Ron was married in secret, in a single night, and to Draco Malfoy's mum, no less.
There had to be some divine prank or cosmic joke in all this.
A/N: Two days shy of a month since the last update of this fic, haha. Of course I'd been much busied with a kinkfic commission elsewhere on the web, and also with some not inconsiderable but dubiously fruitful efforts on trying to write/devise an original work in an original setting (or as original as any fantasy can be, at least). Admittedly a short story would be easier, even if novels are more independently publishable...
But all griping about my continued inabilities to write anything original aside, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. The confrontation with the family might be less something than some of you hoped for, but ideally it can at least entertain you.
With only the most tenuous of tangential relevance, I will also add that I started a patron with an e yesterday. There's not much to it in the way of features so far, and I dunno how reasonably I've set it up, mostly because it is at present only a tentative experiment. Only one of the options even has a distinct, concrete reward beyond simply getting mentioned by name/handle as a patron (many thanks to Nerel Vrimm, by the by), essentially a free commission for one 3k-5k word fic/story.
Still, if you enjoy my work and feel like humoring me with some material pittance in token of appreciation, go to patron dot com. There, as on here and most other sites, I go by the handle of EvilFuzzy9. It oughtn't be hard to find me. And if it helps you feel more inclined to generosity (or at least tolerance of my presumptuous grasping), I will note that I have a dental appointment on the 18th to put a crown on one of my molars, and no idea how much that will cost. orz
Updated: 7-3-16
TTFN and R&R!
– — ❤