Stacey, just for you, here's a two-part update - enjoy!

Fair warning - first part is angst and fluff, second part is smut and filth ;)

I land at the edge of the field and pause to stretch, allowing my neck to pop pleasingly. The sun is setting, and the view from here is always beautiful at this time of year, but there's no time to stop and enjoy the scenery. I have much more pressing things to attend to. I turn to look behind me, and my heart flutters at the sight of the two-story, white-walled cottage 10 feet away. I've had to land outside our wooden fence, to avoid setting off the alarms of the wards we've set up, but I really don't mind. This view always reminds me of exactly why I fell in love with this place.

Draco and I bought the house five years ago. We'd been married for a year at that point, and it just felt like the right next step for us - somewhere nice and secluded, out of the city, that we could really put our own stamp on. I'd already completed half of my ten-year Auror service, and Draco had recently been promoted to Senior Healer. We'd had enough money left over from our wedding savings that we were able to put a sizeable deposit down, and the bank had snapped our hands off when we entered our offer.

Since then, Draco has put a lot of work into making the house pleasant, more suited to us. It's mostly a mixture of our tastes, with the majority of the walls painted beige, the floors laid with dark wood and thick rugs, the furniture vintage and sturdy. The library, he decked out in deep greens and silvers, unable to help himself, but I really don't mind. Especially when he gave me complete free reign in designing the kitchen and the garden.

But the house is more than just some well put-together ideas and tasteful furnishings. It's our home together, or at least the first one that's truly both of ours. It's the first place since leaving the Burrow that I've really felt content, relaxed. Grimmauld Place had been fine, sure, but it honestly never felt like mine, especially when Harry and Ginny started to fill it with kids. And even though I'd lived with Draco at his flat for two years before we moved here, that had always been his place, no matter how many knick-knacks we filled it with from our joint travels. No, this is home. This is where I know that I can always find him.

I'm sure it's just the exhaustion of the three-week-long mission, but I have to brush the back of my hand over my suddenly damp eyes before I feel ready to step through the wards that I'd insisted on installing. Partly to protect our privacy, mostly to keep him as safe as possible while I'm away. I feel the crackle of the magic against my freckled skin as it assesses me, recognises me, allows me through. Then I'm marching up to the front door, shoving it open in my haste to see him.

'Love? I'm home!' I listen, but there's no response. I know he's here, there are candles burning in every room I pass through, floating in each hallway, lining the staircase. But I do a full lap of the bottom floor and find no sign of him. So I head back into the entrance hall and start up the stairs. My face splits into a soft grin as I look at the portraits hanging on the wall over the stairs. Pictures of my family, of his mother, pictures of us all on our wedding day. My heart is full of love, and I pick up the pace, even more eager to find him, to hold him.

I march through the upper hallway, my steps echoing against the wooden floors as I make my way past each room, calling his name as I go. My eyes are drawn to the end of the hallway. There's one large room down there; our library. The heavy wooden doors are ajar, and I almost slap my forehead at my own stupidity. Of course he's in there. I have to stop myself from running, more ready than ever to be near him. When I reach the doorway, however, I freeze at the sight before me.

He's standing in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames, his slender body silhouetted by the roaring fire in the grate. His shoulder-length white-blonde hair is pulled back, tied with a green ribbon at the nape of his neck, and he's dressed all in tight-fitting black. My instinct is to run to him, but something about his stillness is unnerving. I don't know how he hasn't heard me calling to him - the only sound in the room is the crackle of the logs. I approach cautiously but purposefully, letting him hear my footsteps so that I don't startle him.

'Draco?' He doesn't respond, and now I'm starting to get really worried. What could have happened that he doesn't instantly react to my presence, as he always has? I'm right behind him, and he still hasn't acknowledged me, so I carefully reach out and touch his shoulder. 'Love?'

He finally turns to face me, and I almost reel back. Merlin, he looks awful. I mean, he will always be beautiful, but his sharp pale face is sallow, sunken, and there are dark purple rings under his eyes. The silver irises are scarily flat, unfocused, almost unseeing. His lips are pressed together in a tight line, and I can see a muscle twitching in his jaw as he clenches his teeth. It's only now that I realise he's shaking. I slowly lift my hand and touch his cheek.

'Gods, what - ' The air punches out of me as he suddenly moves, tackling me with his slender arms tight around my chest. His face is pressed into my shoulder, and from the way he's are twitching, I could swear that he's resisting the urge to climb onto me. I grip his shoulders and gently ease him back, ducking my head so that I can look into his eyes. His gaze is more focused now, but he's sobbing, tears streaming down his face as he stares at me.

'You're real,' he breathes, his voice hoarse, as though he hasn't used it for some time. His hands are trembling as they come up to cup my face, his long fingers cold against my cheeks. His eyes are darting between mine, scanning my face, like he's looking for something. 'You're really here, you're back - '

'What happened?' My chest tightens as the tears continue to flow, and if he didn't have such a tight grip on my face I'd push him away to visually check his body for the cause of his distress. 'Are you hurt? Did something ... Did something happen while I was gone?' My mind is racing, awful possibility after awful possibility flooding me with terror. It must have been something really bad if he's in this state. He promised me -

'About t-two weeks ago ... Th-the Prophet, they r-reported an attack on a g-group of Aurors,' he hiccups, and my heart drops into my stomach as I start to put the pieces together. His chest wracks as he breathes in harshly around a sob. 'Robards ... The Ministry ... They w-wouldn't tell me anything, said they'd already h-had one l-leak to the media, couldn't risk another. They ... I thought that - ' He cuts himself off with a strangled noise, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him so tight against me that I can feel his heart beating in his chest.

'I'm here,' I whisper into his ear, and his knees give out as he cries harder, collapsing against me. I hold him tighter, keeping him upright, murmuring, 'I'm here, I'm fine. I'm home, Love. Everything's fine.'

It takes a while for him to gather himself, but he's still weak, still swaying into me whenever he tries to pull himself up, and I wonder how long it's been since he's eaten, since he's slept. I straighten slightly to look down into his exhausted face, and for the first time since I came in, he tries, really tries, to smile at me. It breaks my heart, and I dip my head to press a kiss to his chapped lips, determined to prove to him that I'm alive and well and here.

'Ron,' he breathes into my mouth, his hands reaching to tangle in my red hair, tugging me closer. I rest my forehead against his and we breathe the same air for a few moments, just feeling each other. Then he leans away with a small sigh, his silver gaze finally dry and focused, fixed on mine. 'I'm sorry, Love. I tried to look after myself, I really did, I - '

'Don't, Dray,' I choke, blinking away the burning at the backs of my own eyes. 'Don't, it's OK. I can only imagine what it must have been like for you. Fuck, if only I'd known what shite that rag was reporting, I would have tried to get a message to you. I'll be writing a strongly worded letter to that bloody editor, and they'll be lucky if that's all they get.'

'Oh, don't you worry about that,' he says, and I'm almost giddy with relief when that familiar smirk creeps slowly onto his face. 'I've already been down to the offices to make an official complaint. Along with your dear mother and sister.'

'Is the place still standing?' I tease lightly.

'Barely,' he murmurs, his eyes sparking with mirth. 'I think there are a few heads still rolling around.'

'Good,' I growl, trying to put aside the anger that had flared in me. It doesn't matter right now, anyway. What does matter is this man in my arms. In my arms again, where he belongs, after so bloody long. I give him a lopsided grin as I say, 'Anyway, you won't have to worry about those kinds of things any more. That was my last one, remember?'

'Oh yes,' he drawls, and I've never been more thrilled to hear that snarky tone. 'You're leaving a dangerous career as a Field Auror to go and work for your brother in his notorious joke shop. Frankly, I'm not entirely sure which of those jobs poses more of a threat to your life these days.'

'Hey! That explosion was a freak accident, and George had the fire well under control in just a couple of hours.'

'Hmmm.' He presses his lips together, but his eyes are still sparkling, and I can't resist catching his mouth again for another deep kiss. I move my hands so that I'm holding his waist, but am immediately reminded of his fatigued state when he staggers slightly at the sudden lack of support.

'You've not been looking after yourself,' I breathe, almost as a reminder to myself, hoping that the ache I feel in my heart isn't too evident on my face. He dips his head with another sigh, chewing at his lip nervously.

'I really did try,' he whispers.

'No, I know, Love. That's not what I meant. It's just, now I'm back, yeah? I can help with that.' He lifts his head again, his smile so genuine that I can't help but return it. Then I'm stooping, slipping an arm behind his knees and hoisting his slight frame up to carry him bridal-style. He yelps at the sudden movement, then bats at my chest.

'Put me down, you brute,' he teases, but I can see in his face that he's relieved to not have to carry his own weight any more.

'Absolutely not. I've been away from home for far too long, and all I want to do right now is pamper my darling husband in every way possible. Any objections?' He doesn't answer, just nuzzles his face into my neck, likely to hide the flush I can feel burning in his cheeks. I chuckle, 'Didn't think so.'

I carry him from the library into the hall, and head for one of the rooms at the other end of the corridor. I'm content to be silent, just happy to be in his presence once more, but Draco suddenly murmurs, 'I thought you were a dream.'

'What, when I came back just now?'

'Yes. I've ... It's a dream I've been having almost every night, after the article came out.' His voice is raspy again, but he pushes on, 'I would hear you calling for me, but when I tried to follow, I could never find you.'

'Dray,' I breathe as iron fingers squeeze around my heart at the thought of him waking in our bed, scared and alone, the echoes of the nightmare making his worries hard to shake. 'I'm sorry. Is that why you haven't been sleeping?' He doesn't even try to deny it, just nods against my shoulder, and I tighten my grip around him briefly as I step into the master bathroom. 'Well, don't worry, we'll get you back on track in no time.'

I cast a silent illumating charm, and the room floods with a soft, yellow light. It's all polished black and white tile and elegant chrome fittings, yet still manages to feel warm, almost cosy. I gently set him down on the side of our claw-footed bathtub, and reach past him to turn the taps on. When they were installed, Draco had them spelled to fill the tub with hot bubbly water in mere minutes, so I quickly strip myself before turning to help him remove his clothing. He's rocking slightly, obviously struggling to keep himself upright, but I manage to get him naked in time to turn the taps off again.

I pick him up and gently ease him into the tub. He hisses slightly at the heat of the water before I see him visibly relax, and I step over the side to slide in behind him, pulling him between my thighs so that he can lean back against my chest. He lets out a soft sigh as he settles into me, his head falling onto my shoulder, face turned inwards so that his forehead rests on my jaw. I trace delicate patterns along the soft insides of his arms, content to hold him like this for a while, but after some time another thought crosses my mind.

'When's the last time you ate?' I ask softly. He shifts against me, muttering something that sounds like 'don't remember', but I don't push it. Instead, I reach over the side of the bath and summon my wand to my hand. I flick my wrist, then wait. After a few minutes, a portable Muggle phone drifts into the room towards me. Draco had intially laughed when I'd first got it, but it comes in handy from time to time, so at some point he stopped his mocking

I use the phone, which I've slowly become much more comfortable with, to place an order for delivery from the pizza place in the nearby Muggle town. I order an obscene amount of food, knowing that we won't get through it all tonight but betting that if he's not been looking after himself, then it's likely that the cupboards and fridge are going to be pretty bare, too. Hopefully, this order will tide us over for the next couple of days, and there'll be no reason for us to leave the house. Maybe we won't even need to get out of bed ...

'I'm sorry, what was that?' I ask, realising that the guy on the other end of the phone had been talking. He repeats himself, and I mumble, 'Yes ... yep, that's right ... the Malfoy-Weasley house, at the end of - yeah, that's us ... Alright, great. Thanks, mate.' I hang up the phone and drop it onto the pile of clothes beside the bath, lowering my head to plant small kisses against Draco's shoulder. '20 minutes for food, Love.'

'Suppose we'd better be getting out soon, then,' he sighs, shifting to sit forwards in the water. I go with him and place my hands on his shoulders, encouraging him to be still. When he obeys, I reach up to tug the ribbon from his hair, and he sighs and tilts his head back as I run my fingers through his somewhat greasy locks.

'We still have enough time for me to take care of you,' I murmur against his warm, pink skin.

'Alright,' he half-moans, clearly enjoying the feel of my nails against his scalp. I keep massaging with one hand as the other one reaches for the bottles on the ledge beside me. I wash his hair, scooping handfuls of the hot water onto his head before running shampoo, then conditioner through it. I rinse it out, repeating this process twice more, then I hand him the soap to clean his body as I tend to my own hair. I know how tired he is by the fact that he doesn't speak again, just sits there and washes his body while I watch.

When I'm satisfied that we're both clean to his usual standards, I carefully get out of the tub and dry myself off with one of our thick towelss before wrapping it around my waist and holding my hand out to him. Thin, pale fingers grip my thick, scarred, freckles ones, and he slowly stands up, using me to steady himself as he climbs out of the bath. He's still quite unsteady, so I lean him against me as I towel him off thoroughly, taking extra care to make sure his hair is as dry as possible. The whole while, he just stares up at me, his tired eyes following my every movement. I lean down to kiss him gently, but before we can get lost in it an alarm starts to sound from downstairs.

'Pizza,' I murmur, then guide him into the hallway and point him in the direction of our bedroom. 'Go get some pajamas on, Love. I'll be right back.'

'K,' he murmurs, shuffling across the floor, and I have to tear myself away from watching his hunched frame move slowly across our room. I make myself move, hurtling down the stairs and out of the front door. I'm in such a hurry to get the food and get back Draco as soon as possible that I'm halfway down the garden path before I realise I'm still in just my towel. I hadn't even stopped to grab a coat. My appearance would account for the very pink face of the delivery boy, and I give the poor lad a tip before turning and jogging back towards the house. I close the door behind me, reset the alarm, and head straight back upstairs. When I enter the bedroom, my breath hitches.

Draco sits in the middle of our huge bed, on top of an extra blanket that he's laid down to act as a sort of picnic rug. He's wearing a pair of red flannel trousers and my old Chudley Cannons T-shirt, and his still damp hair is loose and curling softly against his shoulders. He's watching me with so much bottled-up emotion that I'm almost gagging to just take him there and then, to make love to him, to remind him of how I feel for him. But I force myself to stay calm, trying not to prowl as I approach the bed.

He's laid out a pair of pajamas for me, too. I carefully place the bags of food on the dresser and change into the flannels and T-Shirt, and I'm just about to turn back to start setting out our dinner when his fingers grip my wrist, almost urgently. I look down, and my chest tightens when I see that he's crying again. I sink down onto the edge of the bed and cup his cheek in my palm, breathing out, 'What is it?'

'I'm sorry,' he whispers, his tears dripping off his chin as he stares into my eyes. 'I know I'm just really tired, and probably hungry, and a little overwhelmed, but ... I really thought ... I thought you were dead, and ... ' His voice fades, and I reach out to scoop him up, pulling him into my lap and cradling him against me. He cries and cries, and I rub his back and murmur soothing words against his temple until his breathing evens out again. We've been through things like this before, on a much smaller scale mind you, but this? It's really fucking shaken him.

'Never again, Love,' I tell him, and he sniffles as he looks up and meets my gaze once more. 'You'll never have to worry about that again. That was my last Auror mission, and we did what we set out to do. We caught the last of them, Dray.' His breath hitches, and he grips my T-Shirt, unable to form the words. His eyes show me the relief, the hope he feels, and I can't stop myself from smiling at him. 'It's over. And now we get to enjoy the rest of our lives together in peace. Well, as peaceful as it'll ever be, with my family about.' I'm aiming for a chuckle, I'd even have taken the trademark eye roll, but the punched-out sound he makes instead is devastating.

'Ron,' he whispers, and uses the front of my shirt as leverage to pull himself up against my chest, crushing my lips to his. He scrambles towards me, trying to climb into my lap, but I stop him, gently pushing him back to sit on the bed again. The hurt on his face makes my heart sink with guilt.

'Easy, Dray,' I murmur, and brush my thumb against his cheekbone. He softens instantly, nuzzling his face into my palm. 'I'm sorry, but as you said, you're tired and hungry. Let's get you fed and have a kip, then we'll get reacquainted, yeah?'

He sighs but nods, and lets me get up and fetch the food. We eat until I feel like I might pop, and I quickly clear the bed before flopping down next to him with a satisfied groan. I turn to ask him if he's alright, and smile when I realise he's already asleep. So I shuffle up the bed, carefully turning him onto his side so I can slide myself in behind him, and press my nose into his shoulder, letting my own eyes drift closed.