Chapter 8 – You Take The High Road
O ye'll tak' the high road, and I'll tak' the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.
Composer Unknown – Loch Lomond
Hogwarts would always cast an impressive shadow upon then wild, untamed and mythical land before it. Shrouded by the dense Forbidden Forest and imposing hills of the Scottish Highlands, unplottable to the average muggle, it towered across it's sprawling grounds. The walls gleamed against the rising sun, and the earth on which it stood breathed deep the autumnal frost pressing it's spine along the impenetrable fortress. Through it's long and illustrious history, it stood as a beacon of hope, prosperity, learning and growth. Now, with it's newly rebuilt turrets and meticulously restored lands following the bloody and bitter aftermath of the recent rise, and devastating fall of the Dark Lord. Although he had not succeeded in his nefarious quest for supremacy, the ramifications of his brutal and brief reign still resonated around the castle and grounds. Students returning for their seventh year, predominantly those affected by the war effort, had begun milling into the castle throughout the day to avoid the grandiose ceremony of the first feast of the year. Headmistress McGonagall stood on the steps of the castle to great their entrance, spotting many familiar faces, and silently mourning the few who were never to grace the halls again. She pulled herself from her melancholy, checking the crowd for those whom she was most keen to grab hold of. She wasn't sure, and had not had much in the way of confirmation of, the return of the Golden Trio, or those who were part of Dumbledore's Army who had survived, however she had a sneaking suspicion that at least one young witch would end up here to complete her final year. Minerva suspected that she would not see Ronald Weasley again within the classroom, unless Draco had take up her offer of the DADA position and Ron was visiting. A chuckle threatened to escape her as she thought of the truly odd coupling, but all the faculty had been in agreement that it was odd, but not unexpected. Harry and Ginny were swept up in their own world, one being scouted for the Holyhead Harpies and the other entering Auror training. How she wished she could rub that in that pug-nosed peonies face, but Delores Umbridge was long gone, and long may she remain so.
Minerva spotted the slinking form of her returning Potions Master, and felt the castle shudder around her. As headmistress, she had an ethereal link to the very soul of the school, and she had suspected for a while that perhaps the place was only humouring her in allowing this haloed access. The school had other plans and she, being very much a believer in the old ways and the true magic, was happy to go along with it's plans. Severus Snape, following his re-emergence into the wizarding world through frankly quite bizarre circumstances, had made contact – after persistent and relentless badgering from Minerva and the Hogwarts fleet of post owls – and had agreed to engage in an advisory role as resident Potions Master, however he would not be teaching the subject. Apparently, the old bat had truly missed his dungeon dwelling or, as he put it, 'bloody peace and quiet'. Minerva had been only too happy to indulge one of her favourite students, though she would of course never allow him to be aware of such a thing. After all he had suffered, and what she herself had subjected him to during his tenure as headmaster, she felt forever in his debt, which she would also never admit to him for fear of his acerbic temperament and the headaches that would accompany such an admission. The castle was jostling her subconscious, like a particularly persistent dog that has noticed you have a bacon sandwich, and she was growing irritable with it's insistence. Something would have to be done to rectify this situation, but it would best be done once Severus was settled into his home, the only real home and family the poor young man had ever known, and had assisted the new Potions teacher in their position. Minerva felt a cold chill run through her, knowing hr recent appointment may cause a level of disgruntled, or downright rude in Snape's case, adjustment. It was then she saw him, bounding like a pup in a park, up the steps towards her before she had time to process his being before her. It still took getting used to.
"Minnie, looking sexy as ever in all that tartan! However have you kept that gorgeous figure for so long?"
"So much for a quiet and dignified entrance, Professor Black. Now put me down this instant and refrain from calling me that dreadful nickname again, or I shall be want to reconsider your post as Potions Master Residing!"
-o0o-
"I knew we should have told Minerva that the others weren't coming back! See, I told you she would be disappointed look at that..." Draco cut himself off mid-sentence upon seeing Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor and Headmistress of Hogwarts, being pulled into a bear hug and swung in a loop by a particularly buoyant Sirius, looking fit and healthy by all accounts. Draco's laughter rang out across the grounds, alerting his partner whose focus was solely upon the emptiness of his stomach, and had made this clear, repeatedly, since their getting on the Hogwarts Express and finding no available trolley.
"Look at what?" Ron grumbled, following Draco's gaze and chuffing irritably. "It's just Sirius being...well..Sirius really."
"Yes but Minerva never blushes, I'm surprised she isn't giggling!"
Ron, now on the verge of murderously impatient, grabbed Draco's hand and vanished their luggage to their allocated quarters in the castle. He had agreed to move in with Draco so soon after the war that he was still in awe of how his life had turned. His mother had welcomed Draco into the family, although the truth behind their coming together wa never fully explained to her, which was a small blessing. Ron had shared a passionate kiss with Hermione as the war's walls closed in on them, and he had found it pleasant, but nothing spectacular. Ron had waited for so long to kiss her that, when the moment arrived, he could not help but feel bitter disappointment that it was not better. With the war ending, Voldemort being defeated, hopefully forever, and with Ron and Hermione discussing what had happened, it came to pass that she, too, had been somewhat underwhelmed once the dust had cleared. It was Hermione, in fact, who subtly asked Ron the question he had never thought to ask himself...
"Ronald, I do love you very much, but perhaps have you considered that, well, maybe, just a thought mind you, that you may be gay?"
It had never crossed his mind, but it did explain many things that had unsettled him for a number of years. It wasn't a devastating revelation, rather a subtle admission of something he should have gracefully accepted many years before, especially during the affectionately called "Won-Won years". Draco, however, had been the shocker.
The Burrow, Five Years Ago
"I am sorry to do this to you, Mrs Weasley. I know it isn't the most desired...situation...but you are the young man's only faimly willing to take him in! His aunt has her hands full looking after her grandson, and the rest are...well you know the family, ma'am..."
The Ministry official gave a conspiratorial grimace which seemed to have the unexpected effect of making Mollly Weasley bristle and puff out angrily, like an owl in the rain, and turn her sternest expression to the young man before her.
"Sir, I do appreciate you bringing my distant cousin to live with us here, although I daresay Arthur could have picked him up on his way home, you didn't need to come out all this way, wouldn't want you to get in any trouble with your Mrs...how long was her final sentence?"
The official turned a shade of puce, and Molly pulled herself up to her full height, which was still nearly a foot shorter than he was, looking over his shoulder at the manicled pale and sickly figure behind him.
"Take those stupid things off the poor boy, does he look like he is going to put up much of a fight?"
Draco turned pale silver eyes to the warm, chocolate eyes of the Weasley matriarch, and in that moment he sealed his fate. The manacles vanished, he found himself bundled between two warm and bountiful bosoms, pressed in tightly with little hope of escape – not that Draco was looking to leave this heavenly spot. Draco had never been cuddled, aside from when he was a young child in the care of his nursemaid, and he was hard pressed to remember, or perhaps even imagine, either of his parents offering sucre in such a demonstrative way. But now, in this moment and for the first time in his dark and stormy life he felt a warmth spreading through him and, without further warning, he felt his own body betraying its years of intense training and welcoming the embrace, tears freely falling, as he became overwhelmed with the emotions radiating from Molly towards him. In such close proximity, he could sense the anger, fear, and overall love the woman exuded, that which he had been secretly jealous of every one of the red headed mob for, and angry that they fecklessly squandered such undying love. He felt a hand brushing through his hair and heard the soft voice lulling him to a state of calm, letting him cry without admonishment or rebuke.
-o0o-
The Ministry official long forgotten, Draco began his house arrest in the Weasley home, helped with the renovations and repairs, and developed a true and genuine love for his Aunty Molly and Uncle Arthur, although he had adopted a habit that he had never expected and thanked the gods daily for; Draco had found laughter, pranks, jokes, hearty meals and, above all, a love of family that he had buried so deeply that even he was unaware of how much he had wanted such things. He had discovered a fascination with muggle technology, all thanks to his days spent in "the Shed" with Arthur, in particular a love of cars. With some coaxing, and a lot of books donated by Hermione, Arthur's newest plaything, a Toyota Prius, became the object of Draco's fascination, and soon was magically enhanced and ready for a test drive. It had almost drawn tears from Draco, who had become a tap since moving in with the Weasley clan, when Arthur had handed him the keys, and a silver and green racing helmet, and allowed Draco the first drive. Though bumpy, it had been exhilarating as he had powered down the country lanes, taking off when safely away from the eyes of muggle's and soaring all the way to Edinburgh. He had never felt so alive up until that moment marking a change he would never regret.
Ron had taken to stardom like a duck to a sandpit, with all of his free time being dominated by other people, his movements judged, his mistakes publicised and his successes subject to the opinions of others. Ron hated every second of the limelight he had once craved, and wished to return to when life had been adventurous, but in a more subtle way. Yes, he had enjoyed some of the fruits of his fame, such as the ease with which he found himself exploring and growing as a human being. However what he had not appreciated, considering his role in the war effort, was the backlash that had hit upon the discovery by Rita Skeeter – a beetle he wished so hard Hermione had crushed or just left in the jar to suffocate – of his sexuality, and his lack of relationship with war heroine, Hermione Granger. The vitriolic stories about how Hermione had clearly "turned him gay", which he honestly could not believe was still a popular view point, and the subsequent Granger/Weasley bashing, the swamps of howlers either condemning his freedom or embracing it, sometimes over-zealously had become a burden to heavy to bare. With Hermione stepping into a Ministry role with ease, contrary to the belief of all that she would pass up the opportunity of being gifted Outstanding N.E. and would return to Hogwarts, it had become too hot to handle in the city. Which is why Ronald Weasley, one third of the Golden Trio, was sitting in the copse close to The Burrow, a kit bag slung over his shoulder and a heavy set brow tired from running away from the papers, or hiding as was more apt the term. He looked over the familiar landscape with a mixture of happiness and regret, spotting the old haunts of he and his siblings and remembering care free times spent playing Quidditch, or hunting colliwobbles with Fred and George – who had convinced him such a thing existed and lived in the hills, eating red-headed boys who didn't give their older twin brother's their desserts. He chuckled as he remembered how his dad had found him stuck in a ditch after chasing after the whispers of one such creature, and the grounding the twins had received as a result of their tricks. It was then, whilst Ron looked over the homely horizon that he spotted the car speeding towards the Burrow. It was new, glistening in the fading rays of a falling sun, and the music from inside could be heard from where he sat. It was clearly a muggle driving, what with the speed and the onslaught of heavy guitar rifts and gravelly male vocals. Ron recognised the band, one Hermione had introduced to his dad, and hummed along to the tune as he made his way towards his family home.
As Ron rounded the bend leading to the magical boundary around the home, he noted the music getting louder. Clearly the car was going to whizz past without a second glace at the open field and crumbling farmhouse disguising the Burrow. The Foo Fighters were cutting through the tranquil evening, with Dave Grohl's melodious vocals floating up to the quickly darkening nights sky. Ron loved this tune, Everlong, and couldn't help singing along loudly as he passed the wards and saw the landscape shift and change around him. He took a deep breath as the guitar solo stretched on for eternity, and his mouth watered hungrily with the onslaught of his mother's home cooking. As he noted the subtle changes to the home, the wide country path leading to the middle of the well presented lawn and petering off towards Arthur's shed, he suddenly felt a colossal magical jolt throw him out of his internal musings, and physically across the grass to the front door of the home. Dust streamed past him in a flurry, and the barrage of sound that hit him as the car he had charted sped and pulled in to a grinding halt outside Arthur's shed, made him choke on the fumes, and rub his rump from the landing. He watched, amazed, as the music was turned off abruptly and the sound of two male voices, laughing and chattering excitedly, closed in on him. Both he recognised, but only one could he fully comprehend as his father's. The other sounded familiar, but he could not place it. Writing it off as probably one of his dad's Ministry friends, Ron dusted himself down and picked up his bag as his the voices grew closer through the settling fog of dust. Ron's expression went from warm recognition at the sight of his father, to a mixture of confusion and anger at the sight of the boy, now more a man, that walked briskly beside him, speaking with just as much excitement about the experience of driving as Arthur himself, who gesticulated and questioned and laughed alongside.
Ron studied the young man who came into view; how he had changed since they last saw one another was astounding. He had gained a little weight, his face more rounded, pleasant and smiling a genuine grin of warmth and, if Ron wasn't mistaken, affection. His hair was a shade of dusty blonde now, the platinum seemingly taking to the sunshine and darkening a touch, but with shocking platinum streaks at the temples and the odd fleck of platinum glinting against the light of the house. He seemed taller, fitter, with more colour in his cheeks. Ron couldn't help but think it, but Draco Malfoy had become quite attractive. Little did Ron suspect that the now quiet young man who had spotted him upon nearing the front door, was thinking rather along the same lines. Ron had adopted a lean yet muscular frame, through his touring with international Quidditch teams over the summer as a "thank you for saving our arses", as he put it later at dinner. He no longer had a mop of red mess, but rather a stylish, throw back style that made him look a bit like a metal head. His long locks were pinned back behind his ears, and a full red beard adorned his face. Draco almost thought he was looking at some form of mountain man, or a lumber jack – although definitely not the kind who liked to press wild flowers – and he felt himself become slightly dry at the back of his throat as he took in what Ron Weasley had grown into in such a short space of time.
One man eyed up the other, and the rest was now history between them. One shotgun wedding, two cursed howlers and a name change later – Draco had been more than happy to adopt the clan's moniker – and now the couple, within a month, were happily, though bizarrely, married and, what was even more bizarre, happy. Both had hidden for far too long, but together they entered the light.