Strangers

Strangers

by regret

"Ron?!?" My startled voice cuts through his musings. Can't seem to control my panic as I stride over to the bed and gesture to the half-packed suitcase, asking "What the bloody hell is all this?" Can't seem to keep the quaver out of my voice, or the fear that has choked all the breath from my lungs.

No matter how hard I try.

"I...Draco, I...I," he stumbles. Clears his throat and tries again "Shit. I'm sorry. I...I just can't stay. Not anymore. I mean, I love you, yeah, but you... you're not you anymore, you know? And...and you won't talk to me and you won't tell me what all's happened and I mean what am I supposed to think? It's not they way it was, and that would be okay, if it wasn't for the fact that this... that this is...bad. And you won't share it and you don't touch me and...and... I wish I was sorry but I'm not. This may be our problem but it isn't my fault and...and...I'm sorry?" he finishes awkwardly. He never was very good with words. But once he gets started it all just rushes out of him in an incomprehensible torrent. None of this makes any sense, and it all hurts. He stands there, shuffling his feet and refusing to meet my gaze.

He’s calmly waiting for the retaliation he knows is coming.

Without missing a beat I ask, "Well which one is it?" My voice so ice-coated that the temperature dips a good 12 degrees. When his fiery head snaps up I see he doesn't get my meaning. "Are you sorry or not Ron? Make up your fucking mind."

Either way you've broken my heart.

"I...I..." Again he falters. "I am sorry...for leaving and not having planned on telling you face to face. But I am *not* sorry for knowing that I have to go." He says it so firmly his conviction rips shreds in the frailty of mine.

He is the only thing I have ever believed in.

"Well, thanks for clearing that up for me, Ron." Even I am shocked by the blandness of my tone. I hadn't thought I could hide from him anymore. "Here, let me help you pack," I say moving toward the bed.

"WHAT?!" he yelps, jumping a good five feet back from it.

"Well, since you are *so* determined to go, and you have no desire to try and...talk...about things I figured the least I could do would be to help you pack. Did you remember your tooth brush?" I ask without even batting an eyelash.

God! How could you have been so stupid? So stupid to think that he would understand? That he would stay with you no matter what happened, like he was supposed to...like...he promised he would.

Fool.

"You know, last night I thought I knew you, but tonight I don't," he says shaking his head, his bitterness cutting me to the quick.

That was always my mask.

Who taught him the tone, who gave him the pain? Surely it wasn't me.

Can't he see that all I've ever done, that all I am IS loving him?

Perhaps I should have told him more often.

With a final, pained look at me, he turns and leaves the room.

What if he doesn't come back?

I hear the door slam and know that, now, I can break. That I can't stop myself. No matter how I try. Sliding down the wall, as tears do my cheeks, I release a broken sob. Resting head on arms and arms on drawn up knees I allow myself to wonder if it *is* all my fault.

I know that I haven't exactly been myself, nor have I had much of a desire to go to bed, but him just *being* there is all I need to get through the nights. (What about his needs?) Since my fathers' betrayal and subsequent death things have just been different, can't he see that I just don't want to do to him what it's done to me?

I don't think I can live without him. But I don't know how to make him stay...

Minutes slip passed unnoticed as I wallow in my quiet grief and self-loathing. Thinking. Thinking. What am I going to do?

I...I..."I love you..."

His startled gasp knocks me back into the present. He looks in shock at my tears. I've shattered the old adage 'A Malfoy never cries'.

"Ron?" I sniffle, my voice broken and watery. Even with him there I cannot stop the trickle of tears down my pale cheeks.

"Oh...oh Draco. When you didn't...didn't say...*anything* and you just, you just let me go. You didn't come after me. You just let me leave...I...I thought I’d lost you, you big git. Thought that you really *didn't* care anymore." He stammers as he slides down next to me and gently cradles me in his arms. Is he afraid I'll break? I snort softly without meaning too, it's a little late now! Luckily he doesn't notice. I find myself unconsciously curling into his warm, broad chest. "Can't you just...tell me?" he whispers delicately.

"No Ron," I say softly, willing myself to get it together "I don't think I can. But...but I think that I can leave it behind me. Leave it behind *us*, if you're willing. Willing to... to..." I break off. I can't image a tomorrow that doesn't start in his arms. Don't want to.

But I can't tell him.

Can't let him leave me.

Can't live without him.

"I am. And I'm...sorry for...before." He trails off, stroking my hair. I have always loved his hands. Long, thin fingers set atop a slim, strong palm. Delicate almost, bellying the strength you'll find there.

Strength is what he gives me.

"Don't be. It...it wasn't your fault. And I am...sorry. I just. I worried that, I dunno, that in trying to understand you wouldn't. And in worrying I couldn't put it past me." I turn in his arms to look at him. He truly is beautiful. Why he has stayed with me, (how we ended up together in the first place!) I may never know. I chuckle at that and he narrows his eyes at me, silently asking 'what?' "Nothing. I was just thinking about that first night. When you held me like this on the flagstones." Then with a devilish grin, "And about what came afterwards."

He chuckles and my heart swells. "Oh really? Looking for a repeat performance?"

"Not at all," I say solemnly. "I think we can do much, much better than that." Taking his mouth in mine I've come home.

Maybe we aren't strangers after all.