Reunion

Reunion

by Icarus

The knock sounded again, and Ron set down his beer, wondering what the hell? as he blinked and wandered to the door. He ran through a mental list of just who might show up after ten pm, up to and including his soon-to-be ex-wife, and came up empty. He'd set his Wards to alert him to any of the usual suspects, but perhaps Louisa had found a way around it. He peeked through the side window. If it was his wife, he'd just as soon she stayed on the porch. There was nothing more to say.

A man stood on the front porch, dressed in an elegant black cape. He was slapping a pair of broom-riding gloves impatiently into his palm. He looked a little anxious, and utterly out of place in this neighborhood. Someone dressed like that ought to be going to the opera. The white-blonde hair reminded Ron of Lucius Malfoy, but it was short, and the man's face was more delicate. Besides, Lucius was dead.

Draco -? It had been years.

Ron opened the door, brushing at his hair with his fingers.

"I was in the neighborhood..." Draco began.

"Not dressed like that you weren't," Ron interjected.

"Let me finish, I have a good excuse: I was in the neighborhood and, uh, my broom broke down and... oh, Merlin's arse, see what you've done? I don't recall the rest of it now." Draco ran his hand through his hair. "May I come in?"

Ron nodded mutely, staring and adding up the changes in this figure from his past. Draco was probably doing the same, and Ron was suddenly intensely aware of the fact he hadn't shaved and was wearing a grubby old T-shirt and just his boxers. Not to mention the dishes in the sink. But hell, it was late. What was Draco doing here?

"I left my wife," Draco said, as if this were 'hello' or 'good evening.' "A few hours ago... maybe more. I dunno, what time is it? I've been walking."

"10:37. Thought you said you flew."

"Eight hours then, wow. Oh. My... it's late, isn't it?" Draco said, in an abstracted tone.

"That would explain the fact that it's dark out, yes."

" 'M'sorry. Didn't realise the time. I'll come back..." Draco turned to leave.

"No, it's all right." Ron scrubbed at his eyes. "Would you like some tea?" Tea was Mum's solution to everything. Ron supposed that included surprise late-night visitors.

Draco nodded and pulled off his cape, looking about for a servant to hand it to. Ron took it and hung it up, then went into the kitchen to make tea. The water was probably still hot.

"Nice place you have here," Draco called out from the living room.

Ron returned with the tea. "No, it isn't."

"It was a polite thing to say." Draco looked peeved.

"It's bullshit. You don't have to be polite to me," Ron snorted. "It's me? Remember -?"

Draco smiled a little, relaxing for the first time since he stepped through Ron's door. A gold ring sparkled on his left hand. Ron's own hand still had a white mark where his had been. It looked naked.

"Nice shit-hole you've got here, Weasley."

"Thanks," Ron laughed, "don't mention it."

Draco's hands played around the rim of the cup as he stared into it as though trying to read the future in the tea leaves. "I left my wife," he said.

"You mentioned that," Ron nodded.

"I did? Rather sudden of me," Draco said, still staring at the tea. It wasn't clear if he meant his words, or his departure. Ron thought he meant the latter. The Draco he knew was rarely concerned with how he affected other people.

"I heard you were living alone," Draco said. "Strange. I always thought you were the marrying type, pop out a new litter of Weasleys..."

"Yeah. Me too. Didn't work out."

"Divorce?"

"Not yet," Ron said.

"I'm sorry."

"Guess I'm not that easy to live with..." Ron sighed.

"Bullshit! You were great to live with," Draco said. "You never learned to read between the lines - you just believe people. She's full of it. Trust me."

Ron didn't have anything to say to that. He had thought so, but there were plenty of people who agreed with his wife. Mostly her friends. They drank their tea quietly. The fire crackled, and Ron glanced up. But it was just the wood; there was no one in the Floo. He was still looking around at sounds, expecting other people in the house.

"I do have kids though," Ron added, as a sudden afterthought.

"Really?"

"Four. Three boys and a girl."

"Small brood for a Weasley," Draco observed casually. Ron was reminded of Lucius again. But he looked like Draco. The changes were somewhat disconcerting.

Ron smiled warmly. He had never wanted any of his kids to be overshadowed like he had been.

"Fred and George have more than made up for that. Between the kids they had before they were married..."

Draco snickered, "I heard about that... what do they do, go from house to house like bumblebees?" His eyes sparkled impishly, and he looked very much like Draco at that moment.

"I still can't get all the girlfriend's names straight..." Ron shook his head.

"I have a little girl," Draco said with a proud smile. The smile suddenly slipped. "She's not going to be too happy with Daddy today."

"She'll forgive you."

Draco looked up.

Ron shrugged. "She's daddy's girl, right?"

"Yeah..." Draco's smile was distant and wistful.

Draco let his head fall back to the couch with a sigh. How many times had Ron seen him relaxed like that, staring at the ceiling as if he could see in the dark? Ron's heart speeded up with the memories.

"So," said Ron. It was time for the fifty-Galleon question., "Why are you here?"

Draco's voice was faint. "I don't know. I was just walking and didn't have anywhere to go."

Ron said, "If it helps, you're just as good-looking as ever."

"It doesn't, but thanks anyway." Draco's face rolled towards him. "You look exactly the same, Ron. It's amazing. Isn't that even the same shitty T-shirt from ten years ago?" Draco winced. "I thought I threw it out."

Ron chuckled. "I fished it out of the trash. More than once if I remember right. But, no, this is a new one."

"They made more than one like that? Why?"

Ron stood up, and began leading Draco by the arm to his bedroom.

"C'mon. You didn't come here to discuss T-shirts."

Draco followed him.

"You always were fast, Weasley."

The bedroom door closed with a click. Hands whispered over shoulders and T-shirts against silk. Hard kisses in the dark, warm wet sounds, and an almost forgotten sensation of a man's hard chest pressed up against Ron's own. Draco was so slim and firm... he smelled like cologne, expensive cologne... like if he were on a menu you couldn't ask the price. Ron liked the idea of Draco being on a menu, but he felt a little shaky all of the sudden.

Ron murmured into the kiss, "... it's, uh, been a long time since I've done this with a bloke..." Not that Ron wanted it to stop, no. No way. That wonderful hand squeezed the front of his boxers.

"First aggressive," Draco smiled breathlessly, and he attacked Ron's earlobes, "now shy... haven't changed a bit, Ron....."

Draco's hands were smooth, expert, urgent. Almost as insistent as the heat between Ron's legs. Ron's body remembered the pleasant sensation of aggressive hands sliding up under his shirt, tugging down his boxers, even if he had forgotten till this moment. Missed this. Missed Draco. Yes.

"..let me clear off the bed..." Ron whispered anxiously. They toppled onto it.

"Forget it, Weasley," Draco hissed, pressing himself between Ron's legs. Ron could feel him, hard, through the fabric of his trousers. Oh. Yeah. The clothes had to go. How had Draco managed to strip him so fast?

"Want you on top..." Ron said in a choked voice.

Draco nodded, and his belt jangled as he pulled his trousers down, hurriedly. Ron liked the thought of that perfect pleat trampled on the floor, as his legs were raised over Draco's shoulders. A hot wet tongue teased at Ron. Draco's eyes were intense and burned into Ron in the near-dark. Ron tousled that perfect hair, grunted - oh! - as Draco stroked him.

"..oil..." Draco breathed.

Ron shook his head. "No oil. Lotion. Top drawer."

"That's no good..." he complained.

"It'll have to do. Call ahead next time. Told you, it's been a while..." Ron's hands slid through Draco's hair of their own accord.

Draco kissed Ron there... Ron had forgotten he always did that... the sheets rustled as Draco rolled across the bed and returned with the lotion. It was shockingly cold, and Ron's hand wrapped around a familiar sight. Ron remembered this part, vividly.

"Let me..." Ron panted, taking the lotion.

So pale and beautiful on his knees above Ron, Draco nodded. His chin lifted as Ron pulled out of him that familiar moan. Yes. Like it, Malfoy? Draco's slick fingers were so wonderful, and Ron stroked harder. Their hands moved in time and Ron began to rock back onto him.

"C'mon," Ron growled, pressing up.

"You're not ready," Draco gasped.

"Good enough dammit..." Ron bit his lip and panted.

It wasn't enough; Ron grit his teeth as it burned. It was like his first time. Draco was beyond stopping, but he was more gradual than he'd ever been, more graceful, more... oh, more! Ron wanted more, as Draco hit that spot.

~*~*~

They lay sweaty and tangled together in Ron's bed, still panting slightly. Draco pulled a sneaker out from underneath himself with a quizzical look, and tossed it aside. Ron shoved the (formerly clean) laundry onto the floor and wrapped the sheets over them.

"Told you it had been a while..."

Draco shook his head, "Looking all over for basics like oil... you're the responsible one. You're supposed to have all that stuff covered."

"What are you blaming me for?"

"Because it's your fault," Draco said reasonably.

"How?!"

"I don't know, but I'll find a way." Draco said. "Merlin, this is like being back at school."

"Yeah. 'Cept it's not likely Harry will walk in on us."

They laughed at the humiliating memory in the boy's shower. "Oh shit... I never thought I'd get a hard- on again after that..."

Draco's arm, at once familiar and strange, caressed Ron's shoulders. His hand tickled circles on Ron's chest. Ron hadn't felt so good in... he couldn't remember how long. He smiled up at the ceiling, grateful tomorrow was Saturday.

Draco sighed heavily. The circles stopped. "I have decided you married a complete bitch."

Ron snorted a laugh. "How's that?"

"Because she doesn't think you're wonderful, and you are. So she must be a horrible, horrible bitch. A hag. A harpy..."

"What does that say about me?" Ron complained. "And don't talk about my wife, please?"

"Ex-wife."

Ron sighed. "Just don't. Makes me feel like I'm cheating on her somehow."

"Was she?" Draco asked the ceiling. He turned towards Ron.

"What?"

"Cheating on you."

Damn Draco's perceptiveness. Ron was silent.

"I cheated on my wife horribly," Draco said casually. "Flagrantly. Frequently. She didn't care. Didn't give a damn. She had the Malfoy name.. the Malfoy money..."

"Sounds like you're the one who married a bitch. A plastic one."

"No argument there. I picked a blonde, any blonde, so we could mint out blonde children that looked just like me. That way I didn't have to think of the female half of the equation. Plastic suited me fine."

"So what happened?"

"I started turning plastic." Draco looked horrified. "Who knew it was contagious?"

Draco was quiet a moment. "Guessed I wanted to see some life out of her, even if our life together was bullshit."

Ron frowned with a sudden thought. "So, are you splitting up the Malfoy estate then?"

"What?! No! I'm a Malfoy. I plan better than that - haven't you ever heard of marriage contracts? She'll be supported in the manner in which she has grown accustomed. No doubt the blonde will continue unchanged. Unaffected as ever by my presence or lack of it. Kind of like a female Binns...."

"Can't have been much of a life for her..." Ron observed.

"What -?" Draco looked puzzled. "Oh. I didn't put in the usual no-fooling-around clause. She just... never did. I checked."

"That dead?"

"That dead. It was very disappointing. I expected something torrid."

Then Draco grinned at Ron, fiercely. "But you haven't changed. If you weren't so tight I wouldn't've believed it had been so long for you."

Ron eyebrows flicked up, and he blushed a little as he glanced at Draco.

"So... tell me. Who was the last bloke you slept with?"

"You really want to know?" Ron asked. Draco waited expectantly, a mischievous smile on his face.

"You."

"Really?" Draco's eyes widened.

"Don't look so smug." Draco's smile broadened as Ron chided him. "I'll have you know I've had plenty of women."

"They don't count." Draco stretched.

"Only in your book."

"Well. I personally plan to never touch another woman again, so long as I live."

Ron didn't want to say anything, but he thought Draco should have done that in the first place. It wasn't as though the entire Wizarding world didn't know the marriage was fake, so why bother?

"There's one catch."

Draco's voice brought Ron back to the present. "What's that?"

"I still don't have a male heir. Never managed it."

"So? Just have your daughter inherit."

"You don't understand. The Manor can only go to the eldest male Malfoy heir. It's magically built into the protections, wards, everything," Draco sighed.

"That's ridiculous. What dinosaur thought of that?"

"A tenth century Malfoy dinosaur."

Ron was stunned as that sank in. "Your family's been around a thousand years?"

"Longer."

"Wow."

Draco chuckled.

"It made sense, in olden times, to link the magics back to the male heir. Women couldn't inherit back then. Those Dark Wizards had a nasty habit of killing off families, marrying one daughter, and then taking over... But these days it's a nuisance."

"Why don't you just fix the Manor?"

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes.

They were silent a long moment. The room had lightened somewhat, and Ron realised they had been at it all night. Some very early birds, the kind that chirp long before the sun rises rose, made their presence known.

"So. What are you gonna do?"

"I'm working on it." Draco thumbnail smoothed along his lower lip, just as his father had when he was thinking.

Ron snuggled in under the blankets. "When you plot, Draco, I can hear the wheels spin. Get some sleep, alright?"

Draco nodded, but his arms remained folded behind his head, chest peeking out from under the covers. Ron knew it was a lost cause.

~*~*~

Ron woke to the novel experience of Draco still in his bed.

Even when they'd shared a flat - well, shared Draco's flat since Ron could never afford it - Draco had always returned to his room. He'd either slip off, or hover in the doorway for a goodnight kiss or smirk at Ron from the darkened hallway. Ron had approached their relationship with a sense of disbelief, helplessly carried in Draco's wake. Back then he'd hated the way Draco always left, though now Ron remembered those moments fondly, strangely enough.

Draco's blond hair looked disgustingly good even after being slept on. The pillow was still tilted up against the headboard, Draco's neck at an awkward angle. Ron adjusted the pillow, and Draco sighed and stretched, but remained sprawled asleep.

Ron propped himself up on his elbow and drank his fill of the sight. Draco was as pretty as ever. Ron knew their being together again was really bad idea -- assured himself that this had always been a bad idea -- but he couldn't quite squelch how happy he was anyway. Oh well. It wasn't as though Ron's good ideas had worked out either.

Draco didn't look exactly the same. After a ten-year absence the differences were pronounced. His arms were thin and had lost the tone they once had. Obviously he hadn't kept up the Quidditch; no surprise there. Ron still played. There were crow's feet at the corner of Draco's eyes, and lines at the corners of his mouth, especially on one side, from his habitual smirk. He actually looked a great deal like Lucius, but without the scowl. Draco had led a happier life.

Comparing himself, Ron was pleased. He'd kept more or less in shape - Ron played Quidditch with his boys, although until six months ago he'd been a tad thick about the middle. He'd lost the weight; divorce will do that to a guy. But Draco was wrong if he thought Ron looked the same. Every smile line was etched into his face, though unlike Fred and George, he wasn't losing his hair. He gloated and teased his brothers about that on a regular basis.

Ron sighed happily.

He decided let Draco sleep late, despite Ron's own love of morning sex. Draco had probably been up all night.

Next time, Draco....

The bed creaked as Ron sat up. Ron slipped on a robe, yawning, and scuffed into the kitchen to start tea. He wondered how long Draco would stay. He hoped the weekend at least.

He started to pull out a plate of biscuits and could almost hear his wife's voice, nagging him about his weight. Ron rebelled momentarily, but then he thought of Draco in the bedroom and put them away. He made some toast instead.

As Ron sipped his tea, the fire in the Floo suddenly extinguished. With a thunk and a scattering of embers, a stack of letters and a rolled up newspaper plunked down the chimney.

Ron calmly got up, and retrieved the morning mail from the ashes, shaking it off. This wasn't the kind of neighborhood a post Owl could fly through freely, so Ron had the mail dropped discreetly down the Floo. The Extinguish Spell sometimes back-fired and roasted his mail, but on the whole it was a good system.

He mostly got bills anyway.

Like today. Bills, bills, more bills, some junkmail... Ron took a sip of his tea as he opened the newspaper to the Quidditch section. He caught sight of the front page.

What the hell -?!

There was a photo of Draco Malfoy, posing for an official portrait. He looked like he had an itch, but was trying to sit still. Under it was an enormous headline.

Ron snatched up the page and burst into the bedroom. The door flung open with a bang.

"Draco!"

Blearily, Draco stirred and glanced around the room.

"You're a Missing Wizard!!"

"Huh...?"

Draco was never a morning person.

"It's all over the bloody paper - they think you've disappeared!"

Draco sat up on his elbows and swore. "Damn her... they're not supposed to notify the papers until at least forty-eight hours have passed..."

"You didn't TELL her you were leaving?!"

"You know how I hate scenes," Draco sneered.

Ron stared, dumbfounded.

"Besides, I didn't know what I was going to do about that heir. I needed a back-up plan first. But I think I have it figured out now..."

That was when Draco chose to ask Ron. At least it answered how long Draco planned to stay. Though virtually unheard of, even for men pregnancies took nine months.

Ron's teacup shattered on the floor, the pieces scattering in a million directions.

End Part I.