Chapter Text
This was annoying. It was also the absolute last thing Ron wanted to do before the end of his shift. He roughly scrubbed his face with his hands as he hastened down Diagon Alley. Usually the head of his department had a newer Auror run these types of errands but, of bloody course, today all the young Aurors were in training, leaving Ron and Harry to divide the errands that needed to be done. Understandably, Harry didn’t want to take any of the errands where he had to be in extremely public settings. Ron, being the good person he was, didn’t put up a fight.
It didn’t mean he was happy about it though. After Apparating so many places, and Flooing the rest of the them, Ron felt grimy. He glanced down at his hands after rubbing his face and frowned. They looked dirtier than before he had touched his face. Was there Floo dust all over him? Hell, he needed this already long day to end.
With a grunt, Ron pushed open the door to the new potions shop. He wiped his hands on his pants and glanced around. Bottled potions lined the walls. A large chandelier hung on the far end of the room, brightening the entire store. It took a moment for Ron to look away from it. There was no one else here. A large cauldron placed on the floor bubbled and popped; there was no fire underneath but the scent coming from it reminded Ron of home. He wondered what was inside. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he was just beginning to head towards it when someone walked out from the backroom.
“Is there anything in particular you’re looking—hell.”
Hell was right. Without permission, Ron’s cheeks pinkened as his gaze met Draco Malfoy’s. Merlin, how long had it been since Ron had seen the git? At least six years and, even then, it had only been in passing or in the Daily Prophet. Of course he had managed to stumble into the prat’s shop looking as though he had been literally drug through mud.
He knew Malfoy was thinking the same thing as his attention drifted, looking Ron up and down. Ron readied himself for an insult, for something, feeling rather like a schoolboy again. Instinct told him to grab his wand and hex Malfoy before Malfoy could do something to him. But Malfoy only tilted his head, a single eyebrow lifting as his light eyes found Ron’s once more.
“Some things haven’t changed, I see.”
“Bugger off, Malfoy,” Ron snapped.
The prat’s lips twisted into a smirk.
“What did I do to deserve such a gift as your presence?” Malfoy asked when the silence stretched on.
“I thought that was rather obvious. I’ve come to pick up potions.”
Malfoy made a sound in his throat.
“Yes, that is rather obvious, I suppose. But you haven’t placed any orders—I would know if you had, for I think I would’ve remembered growing nauseous at the sight of your name—and we do not take walk-ins. New policy that started, ah, about five seconds ago. I rather hope this causes an inconvenience for you.”
The hair on the back of Ron’s neck bristled and he breathed in slowly through his nose. Malfoy’s arms were folded across his chest, his fingers tapping against his biceps as he waited for Ron’s retort. He looked almost eager as Ron approached him. Ron stopped before he was at the counter, preferring to keep some distance between them. And, with no permission at all, his gaze wandered over the man.
Malfoy’s hair was still slicked back just as it had been in Hogwarts but now a pair of goggles rested on top of his head; he must’ve been working on a potion when he heard Ron walk into the shop. He was thin still but his clothing complimented it, suspenders highlighting the length of his torso, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his forearms, shirt pressed and clean. Malfoy looked healthier than the last few times Ron had seen him—he looked good.
Ron forced the thought away, instead quickly thinking of something to say back to the man.
“Believe me, I’d rather choke on my dinner than shop at a place associated with a Malfoy—”
“—that can be arranged—”
“—but I’m here to pick up an order for the Head of the Auror Department,” Ron continued through clenched teeth. “Because I’m an Auror.”
Malfoy looked entirely unimpressed. Ron’s ears burned.
“An Auror running errands? Didn’t you skip your last year at Hogwarts to begin training with the Ministry? Now, almost a decade later, you’re still their errand boy?”
“Fuck you.”
The two words slipped out before Ron could stop them. Delight colored Malfoy’s face; Ron wouldn’t have been surprised if he began snickering with glee. Pressing his lips together to ensure that no other accidental words escaped, Ron tried to force himself to calm down. For fuck’s sake, this was Malfoy. Why was Ron letting him get him all riled up? It had only been five minutes since Ron had walked into this shop and now look at him—flushed, angry, and bickering with Malfoy like he was still a teenager.
What was wrong with him?
“The order, Malfoy,” Ron said, as the smirk widened on Malfoy’s face.
Surprisingly, Malfoy didn’t say anything in return. Instead, he opened a drawer and began to shuffle through it. It only took a second for him to find what he was looking for. He pulled out a piece of parchment and looked over it before heading to the back.
Ron ran his hands through his hair roughly, yanking at the strands for a second before releasing them. What a way to end the day. His last errand and it was to Malfoy’s bloody potions shop. He should’ve been a bad friend for once and had Harry do the public errands. Wait till Harry found out about this! If he didn’t offer to pay for Ron’s lunch tomorrow, there’d be hell to pay!
“I could report you to your superior.”
Malfoy was back.
Ron’s eyebrows lifted as he watched Malfoy wave his wand, sending several parcels that drifted behind him to rest neatly on the counter. Taking the final steps forward so that only the counter was between them, Ron watched as Malfoy wrote on the parchment.
“Is that so?” Ron said.
He looked at Ron, sneering.
“Harassing a civilian? I thought you were supposed to be the good guys now yet here you are, bullying me and attempting to intimidate me.”
“Intimidate you?” Ron laughed. “You said you could arrange for me to choke on my dinner!”
Malfoy lifted a shoulder in a shrug, as though he could barely recall saying such a thing. He was such a prat.
“And Aurors have always been the good guys, Malfoy, though your memory might serve you differently.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure. Sign here that you received the order then fuck off, will you?”
There was no sharpness to what Malfoy said. Instead, it seemed like he was forcing himself to sound bored. Ron took the parchment from Malfoy, eyeing him, before taking out his wand placing the tip to the bottom of the paper. With a tug, the parchment left his hands and rolled itself up. Then it drifted back to the drawer it had come from.
“If you had owl service, we wouldn’t have had this issue,” Ron informed him as he gathered the packages.
“Not my shop, Weasley.”
Really? Ron paused in shrinking the packages, eyebrows furrowing. He wasn’t sure why he had assumed that Malfoy owned the place.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“I’m the Potions Master,” Malfoy said, two pink tints high on his cheeks signaling his annoyance. “I do not own the business but I am what keeps it running.”
Surprised laughter left Ron.
“You must be a pleasant employee to have. Was your boss absolutely desperate when they hired you? No other applicants would take the job?”
“Possibly. But I am the best, don’t mistake that.”
And, oddly enough, Ron didn’t. Malfoy had rivaled Hermione for grades back at Hogwarts and he had always excelled in potions, though Ron hadn’t been sure if it was because Snape favored him above anyone else or because Malfoy had actually been good. But it made sense that Malfoy actually had some talent and that he had found a place to showcase it. After all, McGonagall would never hire Malfoy as a professor at Hogwarts like Dumbledore had Snape.
Ron placed each shrunken package into the safety of his vest pocket. Then, not quite sure what to say, he headed to the door. It had been an odd experience, seeing Malfoy so unexpectedly. Yet… yet Ron wasn’t sure it had been entirely unpleasant now that it was over. The exchange between them had managed to ignite some of Ron’s temper but not nearly as horribly as it had years before.
Strange. Ron found he rather wished their back and forth banter could’ve continued for a bit longer. With that thought in mind, Ron found himself turning around once he reached the door. He lifted his hand in an awkward wave.
“I’ll see you, Malfoy.”
“Hopefully not,” Malfoy drawled but his eyes flitted upwards, meeting Ron’s.
And… ah, yeah, there was something different in the way Malfoy was looking at Ron now too, wasn’t there? Warmth flooded Ron’s body at the realization and a corner of his mouth lifted. Yeah, it had been nice seeing Malfoy, he decided. Maybe he’d come back again soon.
~*~
He spent hours upon hours standing over a cauldron, meticulously adding ingredients in the hopes that the potion didn’t explode in his face or melt the cauldron. The gel that kept Draco’s hair slicked back couldn’t handle the steam and, eventually, curled around his face. Each time Pansy visited, delivering different ingredients her shop carried, she couldn’t help but giggle at the marks the goggles left around Draco’s eyes. He’d normal shush her but exhaustion lingered in his bones, making it hard to care.
Not every potion was a success and not every potion was Draco comfortable enough with sending to St. Mungo’s to be given to Ron. It was a guessing game, giving patients potions that might have strange side effects, but it was a game Draco was normally good at. This time, however, he knew the patient who would be given the potion. He knew the patient’s friends and family, he knew the patient liked the worst Quidditch team in the league and that he laughed loudly at his own jokes and that he was an expert at chess and would smile even when he was sick. And, without a doubt, he would tell Draco to shut up and get on with it if he could see how worried Draco was about the potions he was creating.
Over the course of a week and a half, Draco sent St. Mungo’s five potions. The ingredients and process to each was theorized by both Draco and Granger before being agreed upon by two other Potions Masters that Draco had studied with. Granger was the one who wrote him when the potions didn’t work. He wanted to be there to watch the Healers give Ron each potion, to study the effects, to maybe see Ron wake up, but Granger had promised to write the notes herself so he could continue working.
Draco stood at the counter at work, rereading Granger’s three letters over and over again. At this point, the ink was becoming faded from how much he had handled the parchment. He had tweaked the fourth and fifth potion so they were more like the second—after being given the second potion, Ron’s eyelids had fluttered. It was the only change in his state but it was big enough. What was he missing though? It had to be something.
The bell above the shop door rang and Draco glanced up warily. He hadn’t been dealing with customers at all since the Ministry put him on contract, a fact he was rather grateful for. Right now, the last thing he wanted to do was speak to a stranger. But it wasn’t a stranger at all. His heart lifted at the sight of her smile.
“What is it?”
Ginny rushed to the counter and reached out with one hand to grab ahold of Draco.
“He’s awake.”
The two words he had been waiting to hear for days now hardly made sense as Ginny spoke them. Draco’s lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her. She looked happier than he had ever seen her, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. The child on her hip giggled.
“What?”
“It’s real, Malfoy. Harry sent word to my brother’s shop, you know, Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. We’re about to head over to St. Mungo’s now. One of your potions worked.”
“Which one?” Draco didn’t why he asked, he didn’t really care in that moment, but he wasn’t sure what else to say.
Ron was awake. One of his potions had woken Ron up. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Instead he stared desperately at Ginny, needing her to give him something.
“I have no idea,” she laughed. “I wanted to come let you know before we headed there. You did it! Bloody hell, Malfoy, you did it.”
He let out a single, shocked laugh that made the child laugh too.
“My God, he’s awake.”
He was going to see Ron again. He was going to be able to speak to the prat again and Ron would speak back. The nightmare was over. Draco dropped his head in his hands, more laughter spilling from him. There was a note of hysteria in his laughter that he didn’t care to analyze, didn’t care to hide. Ginny gave his arm a squeeze. Lifting his head, Draco tugged off his goggles and tossed them on the counter. Then he shrugged off his lab coat. He was going to see Ron.
“Wait, I—I wanted to let you know first but… but there’s a ton of us heading over there and we’re not sure if it’s wise for you to head there now too.”
What?
Draco froze, in the middle of running his hands through his hair. A flash of frustration raced through him. He couldn’t go see Ron right now? Was that what she was telling him? Ginny bit her lip before sighing.
“I’m so sorry. I really am. But… but we just need to make sure of everything and all my brothers are already heading that way. It’ll be an absolute madhouse.”
That wasn’t the whole truth, Draco realized. They had to confirm with Ron that Draco wasn’t lying about everything, that despite all the evidence pointing to Draco telling the truth about their relationship that he wasn’t somehow tricking them all. His heart ached, not for the first time, over his past stupidity. As much as he wanted to shout at Ginny about it, to scream and sneer and beg, he didn’t. Instead he shrugged.
“Fine.”
“I am sorry. Truly.”
Draco knew she was, could hear it in her voice. She was as genuine as Ron when she wanted to be—Ron who could never keep the truth of his feelings from spilling out.
“I’ll write you myself as soon as we can get people to start clearing out. I promise.”
“Of course.”
She offered him one last smile before she adjusted the boy on her hip and began towards the exit. Draco watched her, misery washing over him.
“Are you taking the child with you?”
“Hmm?” Ginny turned to face him.
“You’re taking the child to Mungo’s?”
“Oh. No. I have to head to Andromeda’s first to drop him off. I’m afraid it might be too much for him.”
The child was watching her as she spoke, his eyes wide. Ginny pressed a kiss to his forehead and it seemed to ease his worries. And Draco, unsure of why he felt obligated, cleared his throat.
“Give me the child.”
“What?”
It was clear she didn’t understand what Draco was offering. Then, after a long, awkward minute of silence, her eyes widened. Ginny glanced down at the child on her hip—James, his name was James—before looking back at Draco.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask me. I offered. Get to your brother, he’ll want to see you there first.” Draco’s throat felt like it was closing as he spoke, as he thought of Ron’s eyes opening, searching, looking. Would Ron be looking for him? Would Ron be upset that Draco wasn’t among his loved ones? “Ron always said you were his favorite.”
Ginny’s face softened.
“I’ll take James to my aunt’s house. You should be at St Mungo’s already; you should be with him and your family.”
She hesitated, clearly weighing the options. Perhaps she was wondering if Potter would murder her for handing their child over to Draco. He almost wanted to laugh at the thought. James didn’t seem to realize the internal debate his mother was having as he giggled and played with her hair. Then Ginny nodded and walked back before handing the child over the counter to Draco. He tried not to look as awkward as he felt as he took a hold of James.
“Thank you. I’ll write to you as soon as everyone has left,” she promised.
“Of course.”
“Andromeda is expecting him so don’t feel strange going over there.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll let Ron know everything you’ve done!” she said as she opened the shop door.
“There’s no need to do that,” Draco responded, lips twitching into a frown.
Ginny went to step out, to leave Draco with her child without a backwards glance. But she paused and glanced over her shoulder.
“Draco… thank you. For everything.”
Warmth spread through his chest, tingly and strange and nice as he shared a look with Ginny. Then she was gone.
~*~
It was six hours later that the owl arrived, beckoning Draco to go see Ron. Six hours of sitting in silence while Pansy worriedly kept him company, six hours as he thought over and over again about which potion they used to wake him, six hours of wondering if Ron would tell Ginny that he didn’t want to see Draco, that he couldn’t do it, that the relationship wasn’t what Draco had made it out to be. But the owl arrived, as Ginny promised, and Draco was forced to make his move, to leave the comfort of his flat and go see the man he had been wanting to see for ages now.
Draco had access to the Floo system in Ron’s room at the hospital. For a moment, he had considered Apparating to give himself more time to think before he saw Ron but the thought didn’t last long. He pressed a kiss to Pansy’s cheek as thanks before stepping into the green flames, his hands shaky and his heart racing. He rarely used Floo; it was so uncivilized. No matter what he did, he came out dirty and his mother did not allow it growing up. Elbows tucked in close, Draco kept his eyes closed as he zoomed through the Floo system before he was finally spit out, stumbling. How did Ron manage to do this all the time?
Catching himself before he fell to the ground, Draco covered his mouth and coughed.
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered before looking up and realizing.
Granger, Potter, and Ginny were all sitting around Ron’s bed and staring at Draco, various expressions of amusement on their faces. They all looked lighter than they had in weeks. Draco glanced away from them to Ron and… and their eyes met. Ron was sitting up in bed, smiling so wide that his face looked like it could split in two. The blue of his eyes kept Draco frozen in place. Merlin, he had forgotten just how blue his eyes were. The color of the sky in spring, light and carefree and lovely. Draco let out a slow breath.
“We should get going, my dears, shouldn’t we?”
Draco twitched at the unfamiliar voice and looked away from Ron. Standing off to the side were Arthur and Molly Weasley, watching the scene before them with gentle smiles. Warmth flooded Draco’s face. He hadn’t been expecting to see Ron’s parents, not like this, not so suddenly. Potter, Granger, and Ginny were one thing but they were something else entirely. He could feel his throat tightening as his eyes wet, emotions overwhelming him.
“Yeah, we should go,” Draco heard Ginny said.
Molly and Arthur approached Draco together, moving as a unit as Ron always said they did. Arthur reached out, taking hold of Draco’s arm and squeezing it gently. Molly placed a warm hand on Draco’s cheek, staring up at him. Then they left, heading slowly out of the room. Ginny wobbled up, standing on her tiptoes and pressing a kiss to the same cheek her mother had held. Granger smiled at him and promised they’d discuss the potion that woke Ron later. Potter, the last to leave the room, looked torn between hugging Draco and running away. Instead he nodded to him.
“Thank you. You… I’m so happy you came to find me at the Ministry. If you hadn’t…” The words seemed to die on his lips but Draco understood.
Potter nodded again before leaving. Draco breathed in slowly in an attempt to calm himself before he looked at Ron again.
“‘Ello there.”
The two words were said teasingly, softly, and they utterly crushed Draco. The tears came without permission and he let out a horrible choked sound. He covered his face with his hands and curled in on himself as he shuddered from the sobs that tore through his body. Draco had missed Ron’s voice, he had missed his smile, he had missed the brightness of his eyes. He had known he missed Ron, of course he knew that, but now that Ron was awake it fully hit Draco how close he had been to losing him.
“Hey, hey, this isn’t fair. I can’t get out of bed. Draco, please, come here.”
Draco lowered his hands, though he didn’t want to. He had never cried in front of Ron before. But Ron smiled when their eyes met again and he motioned for Draco to come over to his side. Breathing in shakily, Draco sat in the chair beside Ron’s bed. Ron immediately reached for him, taking ahold of his hands.
“I’m sorry,” Ron breathed, eyes roving over Draco’s face eagerly.
“You better be.”
Ron’s eyebrows shot up and amusement colored his face.
“You don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.”
“You better be apologizing for everything,” Draco said grumpily, leaning towards Ron.
“Yeah, well, you’re right. I’m sorry for everything,” Ron laughed but then he grew serious, tilting his head to the side as he studied Draco. “You were the last person I was thinking of.”
Draco’s heart squeezed, recognizing the tender look Ron wore and the genuine words he spoke. He didn’t want to believe the git but he did. Ron wouldn’t lie about that. A small smile curled on Draco’s lips.
“You fool. You almost died. You fucking almost died and the last thing I had done was yell at you.”
“I’ve rather come to like you yelling at me, to be honest,” Ron said affectionately, squeezing Draco’s hands. “You brewed the potion that saved my life, I’ve been told.”
“Granger helped,” he admitted.
Ron pressed his lips together, hiding a smile. It was clear he already knew that Granger had helped Draco.
“You must actually like me a bit then, to put in so much work.”
“Only a bit,” Draco allowed, his stomach twisting. He was never good with admitting his feelings to Ron, he knew that. But, after everything that had happened, Ron deserved to know the truth of the matter. “I’ve—I’ve come to find I’m not sure what I’d do without you in my life anymore.”
Draco lowered his eyes, unable to hold Ron’s gaze any longer. But Ron tugged at his hands, silently demanding his attention. When Draco looked back up at him, Ron was shifting towards him. With his free hand, he cupped Draco’s face before guiding him closer. Then, with no hesitation at all, Ron pressed his lips against Draco’s. A flash of warmth went through Draco, a forgotten heat that stirred his blood and sent his heart racing. Draco leaned into the kiss, leaned into Ron, grateful for the familiar feeling of Ron’s beard hair scratching at his face, the familiar brush of his hand against his cheek, the familiar warmth of his breath as he breathed out against Draco’s lips.
Ron didn’t lean away from Draco when they finally broke apart for air. Instead Ron pressed his forehead against Draco’s, his eyes fluttering open. Merlin, Draco had missed him. His lips curled into a smile as Ron gazed at him.
“So you like me more than a bit then?” Ron asked quietly.
Draco laughed.
“Yes, perhaps a little more than a bit.”
Ron began to laugh too and settled back against the bed. But he didn’t let go of Draco. It was clear Ron was still tired though, worn out from interacting with people all day. Draco didn’t mind. He’d spend another night, another thirty nights, beside Ron’s bed if it meant each morning Ron would wake up happy and healthy. The thought made Draco press his lips together to hide a dopey smile that would be unbefitting of a Malfoy.
“I hadn’t expected to see you so friendly with everyone,” he said suddenly, interrupting Draco’s thoughts. “My family is very impressed with you.”
“Because I saved your life.”
“Yeah,” Ron laughed. “Apparently that will help win over my family.”
Draco smirked but it dropped as he remembered the last few weeks. Everything had changed between him and the people he made Ron hide the truth from. It had changed in a way that Draco never thought possible.
“While you were sleeping, I spent quite a lot of time with…”
Draco went to say many things—his enemies, the do-gooders, Ron’s dreaded friends—but he couldn’t. If it weren’t for them, Draco wouldn’t be here beside Ron right now. If they hadn’t accepted his story, if they hadn’t welcomed him into their group, Ron would still be in a coma and Draco would be left unaware of the dire situation.
“With my loved ones?” Ron supplied gently.
Draco nodded.
“If they hadn’t… if Potter hadn’t listened to me…” Draco shook his head, closing his eyes for a second to try to clear his thoughts. When he opened them again, Ron was watching him. “I was wrong all this time, to not let you tell anyone we were together when you wanted to. I was wrong. And they listened to me, all of them. They accepted it because they know you and they love you and—and I don’t know why they believed me but they did.”
“Because you were telling the truth. They believed you because you were telling the truth, Draco.”
Draco nodded before leaning forward and kissing Ron again, this time hoping he could convey with the simple action every feeling he had felt since Ron left for that mission. Ron wrapped his hand in Draco’s hair, a low groan escaping his mouth when Draco deepened the kiss.
“You can’t almost die again,” Draco said when they finally broke apart.
“Yeah, well, I’m thinking it’s time I change professions.”
Shock made Draco straighten.
“Pardon?”
Ron laughed.
“I think it’s time I take up George’s offer to work at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. I’ll be much less likely to get injured over there and… and I think it’s time I’m home more. With you. If you’ll have me.”
Draco studied Ron’s face, trying to tell if he was lying. But Ron shrugged, a grin spreading across his mouth. Surprised laughter left Draco and he kissed Ron once more.
“Yes, I’ll have you, you giant brute. But if you almost die working at your brother’s joke shop, there will be hell to pay.”
“I’m not too worried,” Ron replied easily. “I only dreamt of you this whole time. It was a pretty good experience for me.”
“Oh, shut up,” Draco said but he couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through him. “You missed Valentine’s Day, by the way.”
Ron didn’t seem too bothered. His eyes fluttered shut, his red lashes brushing against his freckled skin. Draco watched him, uncaring if Ron answered or not. Valentine’s Day didn’t matter, not at all. But then Ron tightened his grip on Draco’s hand.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured and Draco smiled.