Unbecoming

Chapter Eleven

"You're covered in blood, sweetie," Ginny said very gently, sitting beside Ron, who had been curled up on the couch for nearly an hour now without moving.

He stared blankly at her. "I know."

"You should get cleaned up. Shower. It'll be a little while before we know."

He sucked in a shaky breath and said, "I don't want to be in the shower if he..."

She touched his shoulder. "He's not going to."

Because it was the first comfort anyone had offered him since they'd gotten Draco back to Ron's flat, Ron let himself fall sideways until his head was pillowed on Ginny's shoulder. "I know," he said, voice muffled.

Stroking his hair, she said gently, "You should rest. They're still working on getting the blood to slow. It's going to take a while, Ron."

"I don't want to rest."

"You're being stubborn."

He smiled, just a little. "I know."

She sighed and stroked his hair, which was sticky from Draco's blood. "Are you alright?" she asked a moment later.

"Draco's going to be okay, isn't he?" Ron whispered, instead of answering her question.

"Honestly? I don't know, Ron."

He closed his eyes and nodded, and she stroked his hair again.

They waited.

***

Ron always knew when he was being forced to make tough decisions, because his nails always ended up bitten to the quick and sometimes bleeding. He did not like thinking solemn things, being forced to think about the consequences of things he'd never ever choose if he had any other choice.

It was sunny now, all evidence of the snowstorm from three days ago melting away, dripping from the trees and running out onto the road. He let out a careful breath and forced his thoughts away, studying his nails instead, and scowling. Ginny would scold him and force him to let her heal them again, it was a daily ritual now, and had been for the past three days, while they waited for Draco to wake up.

The healer had stopped sedating him today, claiming that Draco was healed and only needed to sleep off the last effects of the sedatives and regain his strength, which could take anywhere from a matter of hours, to a few days.

Ron was betting on a matter of minutes. After all, it was Draco Malfoy. He didn't know if he was ready for Draco to wake up, if he'd worked up enough courage to say what needed to be said, do what needed to be done. But he had to do it right this time, had to make Draco understand.

Draco did not make a sound or movement that Ron was aware of when he finally woke. He gave no indication of confusion, discomfort, or pain, but that was to be expected from a Malfoy, who is born into the world with a sense of where he belongs and what his role is, and nothing would ever drive that from his mind.

So Ron had no idea how long Draco lay quiet and conscious and watched him, as he stared out the window and watched the melting snow.

He glanced over his shoulder finally and Draco smiled at him. It was a weak, wane smile, but still a smile.

"You're alright," Draco said, as if it had been Ron in danger and not himself.

For a long moment, Ron stared, stunned more by Draco's voice and the fact that he was awake and talking, than his actual words. "Yes," he replied.

There was another moment of quiet, and then Draco smiled again and held out his hand. "C'mere then," he said.

Ron came forward and took his hand. Instantly, Draco scowled. "What have you done to your hands?" he asked.

"Ginny will fix it," Ron replied, without even looking at his bloody fingertips.

Draco inspected his hand for a moment, before glancing up at him again.

"It was bad, wasn't it?" he asked softly.

Ron didn't know whether Draco was referring to the fact that he had nearly died, the fact that Ginny had nearly been killed, the fact that Ron had just spent days watching Draco burn with fever and pain, or any other of a million things. It didn't matter, though, because they were all bad and he started to cry, nodding wordlessly.

Draco tried to pull him closer, but Ron resisted. Frowning, Draco asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm...I'm sorry," Ron whispered, shaking his head and forcing a smile through his tears. He stroked Draco's hand, which still held his, and let out a careful breath. "You're alive," he said, quietly, still stunned by that.

"Yeah and you haven't kissed me yet," Draco said sulkily. He still looked worried and confused.

"I know. Do you remember after you were stabbed? In the car?" Ron hoped he didn't.

"Yes," Draco said, eyes flashing with something cold and very strong. "I remember."

Ron flinched. "You remember what you said?"

"I said that this is love." Draco looked defiant, daring Ron to deny it. A strange flush was coming to his face, confusion and hurt and, above all, terror. Ron closed his eyes; if Draco knew what was coming, or even suspected, Ron did not want to know.

"You were wrong," he whispered, because he had to.

Draco's hand tightened convulsively around his, and he said, "I wasn't."

Opening his eyes, Ron smiled again, as gently as he could. "You would think that," he said, and he died just a little inside as his next words formed in his mind. "But then, no one's ever loved you."

Draco winced and let go of his hand. "Ron," he said, eyes wide and vulnerable and so un-Draco that they almost didn't look gray anymore.

Ron let his hand drop to his side, rubbing it almost absently on his leg. He took a deep breath. "I didn't mean to... I mean... I can't..." He shook his head, smoothed the hair off Draco's forehead, and kissed it gently. "I can't love you, Draco. I can't. It isn't safe."

He took a step back, and Draco sat up quickly, though he paled at even that movement. "I don't believe you," he said, eyes wild and voice shaking. "I don't fucking believe you."

"You don't have to believe me," Ron told him quietly. "It doesn't matter. I can't, that's all that matters."

Ron was backing towards the door, because his entire body was trembling and his eyes stinging with tears he did not want Draco to see.

Furious, Draco slid out of the bed, intending to come after him, to catch him and probably kiss some sense into him. He didn't make it, because his legs gave out and he fell, unconscious before Ron could even think to catch him.

"Oh god," Ron whispered, kneeling beside him and lifting his head into his lap, stroking his face. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, regret making it hard to breathe.

Harry must have heard Draco hit the ground, because the door flew open a moment later. "Is he--" he said. He stopped, surprised, when he saw Ron on the ground. "What happened?"

"He got out of bed, and he's still weak."

"He fainted?" Harry smirked.

"I want you to take him away," Ron said.

Harry blinked. "Take him where?"

"Anywhere as long as it's away from me."

Harry looked gently reproachful. "Ron."

"What?" Ron snarled, stroking Draco's face.

"I thought you were stronger than this."

Ron stared blankly up at him. Didn't Harry know that this was the hardest thing he'd ever done? That it was the bravest? "Just take him away. I can't... I just, can't, alright?"

Harry finally shrugged and said, "And what should I tell him when he wakes up?"

"Don't tell him anything."

Harry looked so disapproving of that, that Ron sighed and said, "Okay. Tell him... That I kissed him good-bye and want him to swear on his mother's life that he'll never drink again." He smiled a little, thought it was a strained and desperate effort. "And that I told you to look after him. That's what he said when he left me last time."

Sighing, Harry said, "You don't have to do this, Ron. I know you're scared and everything, but--"

"You don't know the first thing about me, Harry, and maybe you never did. I don't know." He forced a smile and then said, "I'm entrusting you with the most important thing in my life right now, that should count for enough, so that you can stop making me feel guilty for it. I feel worse than you're ever gonna know for this, so just take him and go, before he wakes up. I do not want to see him again."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, before shaking his head and snapping a lightening charm instead. He lifted Draco and stalked from the room, furious.

Ron still knelt there for a few minutes, trembling and trying not to be sick. Everything ached, like his entire body was just one huge bruise, though the ache was far more than physical. Finally, he let out a sharp breath and got to his feet. The front door slammed, and moments later, he heard the Knight Bus pull up outside, and then drive away.

His bedroom door opened and Ginny was there, seething. "What the hell are you doing, Ron?" she snapped.

Ron smiled, though it was empty and just a little bit lost. "I don't know," he admitted.

Her eyes narrowed. "Then why are you doing it? I thought... I thought...Ron, how could you? After everything? He nearly died because he was so worried about you! Because he loves you!"

Something inside Ron crumbled, and he started to cry. "I know," he said, voice choked with tears. "You think I don't know that?"

She was very still for a long moment, and then she closed her eyes and let out a frustrated breath. "Oh, Ron," she sighed. "What the hell am I supposed to do with you? I can't believe you'd just... because he..." Her shoulders slumped.

"I had to! We're just... not right. For each other, I mean. Because he's got other things to think about. I... forced him... to... to love me. And it wasn't fair."

"And this is fair?"

"This is right." He sat heavily on the bed and waited for her to comfort him, because she always, always comforted him when he hurt. This time, however, she snorted and walked away.

For a long time, after the front door slammed again, he stared in shock at his open bedroom door. And then he just cried harder.

***

Ron was not such a fool as to think that Draco would sit idly by in Harry's flat while Ron went about his normal life in London. Malfoys, as a general rule, craved revenge, and this was just the sort of thing they'd feel needed to be avenged. So as soon as he collected himself and had stopped crying (it took three days), he pulled out a few ratty old suitcases and started throwing things into them. He'd go away. A vacation, until all of this was cleared up and didn't hurt anymore. Some place warm and tropical, far, far away.

As soon as his bags were packed, Ron wrote a quick note to his mum and slipped it in the post box on his front step, so that the weekly owl would pick it up and deliver it for him in a few days. Then, locking up his flat, he hailed the Knight Bus and left.

He went first to the South of France, spending three days in a small hotel room, sitting by the window and staring into space. After he'd had enough of that, he went to Spain for a couple days, and then, tiring of large cities, and hoping that a week was long enough for Draco to have moved on and gotten over it, he hopped a Muggle bus to Weasley Manor.

Feeling bruised and battered all over, he was hoping for some peace and quiet, to get his head back on the right way around again, to heal, to get over this as best he could. It was for the best, after all.

Weasley Manor was just how he remembered it, except that the bedroom was trashed beyond all imagining. Ron spent a few long moments standing in the doorway and smiling fondly, because anything of Draco's was worth looking at, even something he'd destroyed.

But exhaustion was weighing down on him, so Ron dropped his things onto the floor, and crawled carefully over the mess so as not to disturb even the slightest part of it. The sheets had been torn off the bed, and he curled up around a pillow that still smelled faintly of Draco, though it could have been his imagination.

***

He woke when it was after dark, and because he had dreamt of Draco and started talking in his sleep, though he did not know what he had said. His own voice woke him, and he was momentarily confused, until he saw the mess littering the ground in the moonlight.

Feeling comforted by that, but still haunted by his dreams, he got out of bed, smoothing his hair back and fumbling around blindly for his cloak. He was feeling claustrophobic suddenly, and afraid of the dark.

It was a silent and still night, the moon was bright and reflected off the snow. Ron didn't know exactly where he was going, but he knew the area surrounding the cabin better than he knew anywhere else in the world, and the further he walked, the more he remembered.

His breath misted in the air before him, but it was soothing somehow, the coldness that surrounded him and made his body numb. He fancied that if he stayed outside long enough, the coldness would spread through his skin, to everything inside that hurt.

There was a river up ahead that Fred and George had once tossed him into when he was a boy, with a bridge where he and Ginny had spent countless hours sitting and tossing pebbles over the railing. He followed the river, watching the water run dark and cold under a thin coating of ice.

Ron climbed up onto the bridge and leaned against the railing, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully. His shoulders slumped and he sighed, because everything still hurt and he had hoped it would have faded away by now, but really should have known better. He was also beginning to feel exceedingly stupid, and was wondering if perhaps he should withdraw again, run away again, live all alone and drink until he forgot everything because there was nothing in this life worth remembering except Draco, and that hurt.

He shivered and had just turned to head back to the manor, when Draco stepped onto the bridge. Their eyes met at the same time, Draco's going wide with shock, and Ron flinching, as if he'd been hit. For a long moment, they stared at each other, and then Ron noticed the snowshoes on Draco's feet.

"What are you doing here?" he asked shakily.

Draco blinked and his eyes narrowed. Without a word, he turned to walk away.

Ron watched Draco take two awkward steps in the shoes, thinking desperately that it was for the best, that it was meant to be this way, that he should, by no means, call out to him or try to stop him. "Draco, wait!" he called, wincing as all his thoughts drifted away. He could not let Draco walk away after he had just shown up there, as if Ron had conjured him up with his thoughts.

Draco did not pause.

Running off the snowy bridge, Ron grabbed his shoulder. "No, please," he begged.

Stiffening, Draco pulled away and turned, slowly, his face white with rage. "Don't fucking touch me."

Ron flinched and took a step back. "I'm sorry, it's just... I missed you."

Draco stared at him blankly and then started to turn away again. "If you came here to fuck with me again, Weasley, I won't let you," he said.

"I... no. I didn't know you were here. Why...why are you here?" Feeling lost and rather ineffective, Ron watched Draco stumble away on his snowshoes.

"Where else was I to go?" Draco snapped. "I'm not welcome at home, my mother would kill me after what I did to my father. I certainly wasn't going to stay with Potter..." He snorted. "And I figured, while you were running off scared, this was the last place you'd come to. I wanted to be wherever I thought I'd never have to fucking see you again, because if I did see you, I'd want to kill you. Past experience has taught me that murder is never the best way to solve things."

Ron blinked and tried to smile, but it was weak. "Oh," he said. He stepped back nervously, onto the bridge. "Did Harry tell you--"

"Shut the fuck up."

Ron did. Draco turned back to look at him, his shoulders shaking with his heavy breathing, and Ron watched for a long moment. "I thought... I thought it was funny," Draco said finally.

"Thought what was funny?" Ron asked softly, nervously. There was a sharp sort of rage burning in Draco that he could feel.

"That after every thing, after everything... all that... it was you who were fucking with me. After all of Potter's worries."

Ron winced. "It wasn't like that," he said.

"Then what the hell was it like?" Draco snarled, and Ron flinched. "You were fucking scared. Fuck, Ron, even in the beginning, when you were so fucked up and pathetic, I thought there was at least some bravery in you. I mean, hell, you were scared of your own shadow and still had the courage to keep breathing. That's got to count for something. I thought... I thought... you were brave. And then the second it starts getting hard, you walk away?"

That stung, and Ron swallowed hard. "I... You don't understand."

"What isn't there to understand?" Draco's voice was sharp, but he was so pale, his hands shaking so badly. "The second you get blood on your hands, you take off. As soon as it turns into something more than fucking and kissing and arguing, you run. Without an explanation, without anything."

"You left me that way last year," Ron said.

"Last year was different," Draco spat.

"How?" he scoffed, growing a little angry himself.

"Last year, I hadn't let you... let you be anything. Just... just someone... last year I could remember all the reasons why I didn't believe in relationships or... last year..." he trailed off, eyes going wide. "Last year, I didn't believe in love. It's not fucking fair for you to force me to believe and then lose your nerve."

Ron was at his side in a heartbeat, drawn by the strange sparkle in his eyes that could have been tears. "Draco," he whispered.

Draco shoved him, hard. "Don't touch me," he hissed.

"Let me explain." Ron felt like he was going to cry.

"I don't want an explanation!"

"What the fuck are you waiting here for me for then?" Ron snapped.

"I told you, I want to kill you."

"Oh, that's fucking mature."

Draco smirked and Ron hated it. Before he could hit him, kick him, shout at him, or stomp away, Draco sneered, "Did you want me to beg, Weasley? Like I begged Potter?"

"No." He shook his head wildly.

"Then what the fuck do you want from me?" It was nearly a shriek, so ragged and desperate and lost, and Ron closed his eyes, choking on the sudden urge to cry.

"I don't want anything from you, Draco," he whispered.

"Then...then why?"

"Why what? Why did I fuck you? Fall for you? Leave you?" Ron ran a hand through his hair and then answered the first two. "Because I wanted you and because you let me..." He trailed off.

"Then why did you leave me?" Draco hissed, furiously.

Ron's shoulder slumped and he said, "You nearly died."

"I'm well aware. Potter said you... you watched over me the whole time I recovered."

"I did."

"Then why--"

"Harry told me that... that it was because of me. That you'd been hit because of me. That you... you heard that someone was coming for me, and you were distracted, and because of that, you were nearly killed."

Draco frowned but didn't reply.

"I forced you to love me," Ron said carefully. "And it nearly got you killed."

"Why do you care?" Draco spat. "You told me you didn't love me."

Irritation, frustration, and pain made Ron react thoughtlessly, "I'm not worth it! I'm a fucking distraction and you nearly died for it and I will not be responsible for that!"

"Ron--" Draco said, looking stunned.

"I love you, of course I fucking love you! It was the hardest thing I've ever done! But I had to, and I'd do it again," he snarled almost spitefully. "I don't care if it makes you hate me. Even better if it does!

Draco looked confused for a long moment, and then said, "If you love me, why did you leave me here and go back to London?"

Hurt and frustration made Ron speechless, and he just stared blankly, torn between rage and the urge to cry. "You told me that loving Harry taught you that love is degrading," he said finally, his voice very rough. "Shouldn't it also taught you that loving someone who doesn't love you back fucking hurts?"

He had started to cry and he hadn't wanted to cry in front of Draco, so Ron turned quickly, nearly blindly stumbling away, as quickly as he could.

"Ron," Draco called, reaching for him, and Ron only shook his head wildly and tried running, but he couldn't see where he was going, blinded by tears. It was a stupid thing to do, really, and in future days, he would wonder what had been stupider, leaving Draco the way he had, or running on an icy bridge blinded by tears.

So he fell, slipping in the ice and tripping over the railing, tumbling down onto the thin layer of frozen water below. The impact stunned him and there was a sharp crack, whether it was his bones or the railing or the ice, he was too numb and startled to tell. All he knew was that something cracked, and stars danced in his eyes, and it was very, very silent, after that crack faded away. He was just trying to decide whether or not the fall had killed him when he heard Draco's snowshoes snapping in half as the other boy tore them off, and then, swearing nearly hysterically, Draco was leaping over the railing and landing beside him.

"You fell off the fucking bridge!"

Ron blinked a few times and wondered why it sounded like his bones were breaking all over again, and why he couldn't feel it. "Ouch," he said, hoping that saying it would cue in whatever pain receptors his brain seemed to be missing now, if only to let him know what exactly was broken.

Draco was ripping his clothes off, cursing the bridge, cursing him, cursing everything in the world, and Ron wondered distantly when things would start to hurt. Something wasn't quite right and the whole earth seemed to be shifting somehow.

"I can't believe you," Draco berated him. "It's a fucking bridge, Weasley, people don't just fall off bridges! They fall off horses and brooms and wagons... Where does it hurt? Are you alright? Son of a bitch..." he mumbled furiously as he pulled Ron's shirt away, searching for wounds, and Ron yelped at the sudden cold. Draco took that yelp for a sound of pain, and began searching more desperately for the wound, pulling out his wand so he could heal it.

Ron wasn't paying attention, because distantly, as his naked back gradually grew moist, he was remembering something important. He'd fallen on ice and it wasn't his bones cracking at all.

He moaned and closed his eyes. This was all very embarrassing. Tragic, really...

"Oh god. Ron. Shh. You're alright. Fuck, where does it hurt? Oh god."

Draco really seemed to be falling apart, and Ron opened his eyes, trying to smile reassuringly, though the fall had stunned him and knocked the wind right out of him and he couldn't quite speak yet.

Blinking back tears, Draco smiled brightly, reassuringly, at him, and said, "Don't worry. I'll take care of you. You're fine."

"Draco," Ron wheezed, gasping for breath.

"Don't talk," Draco scolded, and then, to emphasize the point, he kissed Ron on the mouth. "Where does it hurt?"

"You told me not to talk..." he trailed off, because everything was rather hazy, and there was something important he'd forgotten to tell Draco...something... hmm.

Draco was panicking again, and he closed his eyes, breathing heavily. "I don't know what to do," he admitted finally, his eyes opening again.

Ron blinked and smiled because whatever it was he'd forgotten certainly couldn't matter as much as the fact that Draco had kissed him, the fact that Draco was falling apart because of him, the fact that even though they'd just been screaming and fighting, Draco still cared enough to panic that he might be hurt.

He sat up, wincing because his body felt stiff, though nothing was broken. "Draco?" he asked quietly, and everything around him started to vibrate. He naively thought it was some profound emotion, like love. It wasn't.

"Ron? Does it hurt?" Draco asked worriedly.

"Draco, I lied. I love you. I left you here because I didn't think you loved me, and if you did, I figured you'd come after me. I made Harry take you away because I didn't think you loving me was worth losing your life over."

Draco finally forgot about the injury and the fall, though Ron was very much aware of it, given that his chest was bare, his back was wet, and there was ice melting under his legs-- ice. Oh shit.

Before he could comment on that, Draco was kissing him, just lightly. "You're an idiot," he growled. "You're the one who told me that some people are worth risking everything for."

Ron started smiling, though he tried to restrain it. Something bright and sunny was beginning to glow somewhere deep inside him, where all these years there had only been shadow and loneliness. There was no other way to describe the strange, bubbling feeling that was coming over him. It was a little uncomfortable and frightening and he did not want Draco to know it was happening, in case it was the result of a head injury or, more embarrassing, something like what had happened to that green goblin thing in The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, which Hermione had made him watch one Christmas. Growing a heart looked like painful business.

Draco was watching him worriedly. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Becoming aware of his dorky grin, Ron cleared his throat and said, "Am I..." he flushed.

"Are you what?"

"Worth risking everything for?"

Draco didn't answer. Instead, he kissed Ron hard, pulling him close and running his warm hands over Ron's freezing shoulders and back, forcing his lips open and answering him that way, by kissing him until he couldn't remember the question. Ron moaned into his mouth and smiled, content to let Draco's hands warm him, following his tongue back into Draco's mouth and melting against him.

Draco pulled away and kissed the corner of his lips. "Love you," he mumbled, looking quite put out at having to say it. "'Course you are."

Ron beamed, and as he did, the ice cracked and fell out from beneath them.

The sudden shock of going from freezing to death at a relatively moderate rate, to sudden and complete submersion in icy water was so startling that Ron's first reaction was to gasp. Freezing water filled his mouth, and he kicked to the surface, coughing and sputtering, scrubbing the water off his face with the back of his hand, blinking water out of his eyes and trying not to get swept away by the current. There wasn't much chance of that, it was a very slow moving river. Still, he looked around in terror, until he saw Draco coughing near by.

"Holy shit," Draco yelped, when he'd caught his breath.

Ron couldn't help it. He was shivering and freezing, but could not prevent a burst of hysterical giggles. "Oh my god," he snickered.

"This isn't funny." Draco's hair was wild and wet, the tips already freezing, and Ron giggled again.

"I know. And my dad's gonna kill you for breaking those snowshoes, did I mention that?"

Draco's eyes narrowed and, before he could reply, Ron Apparated out of the river and back to the warmth of Weasley Manor.

He immediately cast a fire in the hearth and grabbed three blankets and two towels from the linen closet. He was just tossing them to the floor as near to the fire as he dared, when Draco Apparated into the cottage, shivering violently.

Ron wrapped him in a blanket and then snuggled into one himself, spreading the other on the floor and sitting on it next to Draco, drying his hair with the towel. Draco protested, but the sound was muffled by the towel, and Ron happily ignored it. He could get used to this, this looking after someone else.

He let the towel drop finally, and Draco's hair was standing up wildly. Ron smoothed it while Draco glared at him balefully.

"Are we okay, then?" Ron asked, sitting back and burrowing into his blanket, teeth chattering.

Draco smiled a little, a flush rising to his icy cheeks. "Do you... want to be? I mean... you won't... leave again?" It was probably incredibly difficult for him even to ask, and Ron slid closer, leaning his head on Draco's shoulder so that Draco wouldn't have to look at him and he could easily pretend not to notice Draco's blush.

"Hmm," he sighed, closing his eyes. Draco wrapped an arm around him. "And you'll live with me in London and pay rent and not bitch about my Ravioli?" he mumbled, feeling a little sleepy as warmth came trickling back into his body.

Draco considered for a moment, and then said, "Well, if I do bitch about it, you won't throw a fit and leave me, will you? Because I can't make any promises." Ron could hear the wicked grin in his voice and he smiled in reply.

"I can't make any promises either... but I'd probably come back soon enough. You won't leave while I'm gone?"

Instead of waiting for a reply, Ron arched and turned awkwardly, kissing him. Draco kissed him back just as sweetly, and, without breaking the kiss, Ron wriggled out of his blanket and straddled him. "We should get you outta those wet clothes," he whispered, smirking. Draco laughed and kissed him again.