Defenseless.

I. Crowded Streets are cleared away, one by one

“Weasley, get down!” Draco shouted as a stream of fire shot out from the end of a Death Eater’s wand. He launched himself forward and knocked the redhead to the ground, using his body to protect the other man. The spell narrowly missed his head and instead, hit another death eater behind them, engulfing him in flames. The Slytherin looked down at Ron and managed to conjure a trademark sneer.

“Bloody fantastic, Weasel,” he exclaimed exasperatedly. “Not only do I have to keep myself alive, but I have to go around saving your arse, too.” Ron answered by shoving Draco’s head to the side with his left hand and firing an Avada Kedavra with his other over the blonde’s shoulder. Another body dropped to the ground with a sickeningly familiar thud. Rolling himself out from underneath Draco’s, he stood and shouted another series of spells. Draco moved so that his back was against the redhead’s and joined him in hexing the seemingly endless amount of masked men coming towards them. After what seemed like an eternity of fighting, they both fell to the ground in exhausted relief. The Slytherin turned to face the Gryffindor, giving him a once over to make sure he wasn’t terribly injured.

“Looks like they took a huge piece of your arm,” he said, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. Ron looked down at his wound and let out a pained groan.

“Never look at an injury,” he bit out. “Seeing it makes it hurt so much worse.”

“Big baby,” Draco scoffed without any real malice before leaning over and using the appropriate healing spells on the deep cut. Giving the healed arm a gentle pat, he pulled away and relaxed into his previous position.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” he said softly, nudging the other man’s knee with his own. Draco simply nodded in response and looked up at the sky, trying his best to ignore the carnage surrounding him. At the start of this battle, there had been hundreds of people in the streets. Now, the Slytherin could not see another living soul except for the man sitting beside him. Although the reason for it was a terrible one, for the first time a long time, everything was quiet; he wanted this moment to last as long as possible. The two men sat in companionable silence, occasionally bumping each other with an elbow or a leg.

“What do we do now?” Ron finally asked, disrupting the calm. “It appears we are the only people here and I’d very much like to get away from the blood and decaying bodies.” Before Draco could respond, a soft pop was heard some distance behind them, indicating an apparation. Both had turned with their wands out within a second of hearing the noise. Seeing a head of unruly black hair that could only belong to one person, Ron let out a whoop of excitement and ran to meet his best mate.

“Oy, Harry,” he called, “we were just wondering where everybody was.” Leaning in to embrace his fellow Gryffindor, he immediately sensed something was wrong when the hug was not returned with as much enthusiasm. Pulling back to look into his closest friend’s eyes, he gave Harry’s arm a squeeze. “What’s wrong?”
“I tried, Ron,” he said softly, unable to look the redhead in the eyes. “It was too late.”

“You’re going to have to give me a little bit more information, mate,” the slightly taller man said with a nervous laugh. “I’ve no idea what you’re on about.”

“It’s Fred, Ron.” Harry finally met his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh. “I’m sorry.” For a moment, the redhead merely stood there, seemingly unemotional. “Thank you for telling me,” he said eventually, walking over to what used to be Honeydukes and sitting against the wall. Draco, who’d been standing further away as to not intrude on the conversation, made his way to the dark-haired man.

“Who was it?” he inquired.

“Fred.”

Draco nodded in understanding. “Perhaps you should head back to Order Headquarters,” the blonde suggested, “I’ll stay with Weasley.” After some back and forth bickering, Harry finally relented and disapparated. Draco turned back towards Ron and gently
pulled him up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, turning the Gryffindor’s head to face him. His face was flushed red, as though he was endeavoring not to cry.

“I always used to complain about what an annoying prat he was,” he whispered, “but I didn’t mean it.”

“Of course you didn’t mean it.”

He wrenched out of Draco’s grasp suddenly and walked into the middle of the street. Unsure of what he was going to do, the blonde carefully made his way towards him. He stopped dead when Ron let out a gut wrenching scream. The ground shook slightly and Draco yelped in surprise when the windows of the surrounding shops began to shatter. Lanterns and signs around them swung wildly and exploded with deafening sounds. The Slytherin ran to the redhead and threw his arms around him from behind. The power emitting from his body threatened to knock Draco back, but he held strong.

“Weasley, stop it!” he shouted over the clatter. “Calm down. Ron, stop it!” Upon hearing his name, Ron seemed to break out of his haze as the chaos around them slowed and ultimately stopped altogether. Draco buried his nose into the redhead’s hair and tightened his hold around his torso. Ron’s breathing was erratic as he fought to calm his emotions. Slowly turning him around, the blonde pulled Weasley to him and held him closely, running a comforting hand through his hair. Little by little, he felt Ron’s arms move forward before they were completely wrapped around him. Draco could tell he was crying; although the man was silent, his shaking body and the Slytherin’s damp shoulder gave it away.

“It’ll be okay,” he said soothingly, trying to offer his strength. “It’ll be okay, Weasley.”

The two men stood there for hours in the same position: one man broken and the other trying to put him back together.

* * *

II. Lay your hand on me, one last time

The Order meetings were growing increasingly monotonous and Draco was finding it extremely hard to keep his attention on Potter, who was spewing out assignments and destinations. He stared down at his hands and began to pick at the dirt underneath his fingernails, finding it much more interesting than what Potter was saying. It wasn’t as though he was sharing anything especially important. He’d be paired with Weasley anyway; he always was. It wasn’t until he heard his name that he finally snapped out of his daze.

“What?” he questioned dumbly, taking in the group of people that was now staring at him. Harry rolled his eyes and tossed a stack of scrolls in the blonde’s direction.

“Death Eater attacks in Manchester,” he said, pointing at the pile now in front of Draco. “They’ve taken to destroying muggle towns. We need you to lead a reconnaissance. We’re almost sure that they’re still lurking around there.”

Draco shrugged noncommittally, but was secretly pleased with the news. They were finally seeing him as the valuable asset that he was.

“All right, if nobody has anything to add,” Harry concluded, “then it’d be best if we set out now before they find out what we know.” He picked up the mess laid out in front of him and went over to where Ron was sitting. Whispering something in his ear, Harry gave the redhead a gentle pat on the shoulder and left with a puff of smoke through the floo. Draco waited around for Ron, hoping to leave with him, but noticed something was wrong when all the members had left and he was still sitting in the same position.

“Why are we still here, Weasel?” he drawled, setting himself on the edge of the table and leering at Ron. “Upset that I’ve got the leadership title this time and you’re stuck being my minion?”

“Were you paying attention at all during the meeting, you prat?” Ron snapped, standing up to his full height and staring the blonde down.

“Of course not,” Draco exclaimed, looking aghast. “Why would I do something like that? Potter was talking.” He stopped and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why, what did he say?”

“I’m not going with you, Malfoy,” Ron said softly, falling back into his chair. “They’ve sent me on a separate mission.”

“Of course you’re going with me. We’re always sent out together. Those idiots should know better by now.” Draco clicked his tongue in irritation and went over to the floo. “I’ll fire-call Potty and have the Boy-Who-Won’t-Do-Us-All-A-Favor-And-Die make him alter this arrangement.”

“I’m being sent to Hogwarts,” Ron said wearily, ignoring Draco’s foul names for Harry; he’d come to realize a while ago that the Slytherin didn’t really mean it anymore.
Draco turned quickly from the fireplace to face the redhead. “Hogwarts?” he asked slowly, feeling something akin to fear building up inside of him.

“Tomorrow morning,” Ron said flatly, going back to staring at a spot on the floor.

“What is running through that idiot’s head?” Draco shouted, exploding into a rage. “Doesn’t he know how dangerous Hogwarts is right now? The whole fucking place is teeming with Death Eaters. It’s practically a suicide mission. What is he thinking sending you there?”

“I’m hardly incompetent.” The redhead seemed irritated that Draco was apparently underestimating his skill as a wizard.

Draco sat down in a chair across from Ron and leaned forward to grab his attention. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he commented as nicely as possible with all the anger still inside of him. “I meant what was he thinking sending you without me?”

Ron managed a chuckle and reached out to grab Draco’s hand. “Can’t bear to be apart from me?”

“Hardly,” Draco said dryly. “I’d hate to live with the guilt of knowing I wasn’t there to rescue you should you…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

“I’ll be fine,” the Gryffindor said softly. “Besides, you’re needed in Manchester.”

“I’d rather be at Hogwarts. There’ll be far more action there,” he added, realizing that the things he’d just said made him seem soft, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Ron tugged at Draco’s hand, urging him to look at him. “You’re a git, did you know? Stop worrying, Malfoy. Tomorrow I will go to Hogwarts and you will go to Manchester. After everything’s done, I will come and hex you for ever doubting me. I’m going to be fine.” He stood up and pulled Draco up with him. “Now, come on. Let’s go to your flat for the make up shag. Mine’s an absolute mess.”

“Make up shag?” Draco questioned, raising an eyebrow. “We weren’t exactly fighting.”

“Do you want sex or not?” the redhead asked, rolling his eyes. Instead of answering, Draco leaned forward and captured Ron’s lips, licking and biting in ways he knew drove the redhead insane.

Pushing him backwards towards the floo, Draco grabbed a handful of powder and, without detaching his mouth from Ron’s, muffled out, “Dragon’s Lair.” With a whirl of smoke, they were deposited inside Draco’s immaculate apartment, decorated, predictably, with green and white.

“Still can’t believe you named your flat that,” Ron chuckled between kisses.

“Less talk, less clothes,” Draco growled, having already chucked his robe and was now working on the clasp of Ron’s. He led them aimlessly through the flat, not caring where they would end up and worrying more about the freckled skin that was slowly being revealed with each removed item of clothing. Their momentum was stopped when Ron’s back hit a wall and Draco’s body crashed against his. Undeterred, the Slytherin merely used the closeness to his advantage and ground his hips against the redhead’s, relishing the moan that emitted from his lips. Draco quickly discarded the remainder of his clothing and pulled away from Ron long enough to drag him into his bedroom. He pushed the Gryffindor towards the bed, who fell unceremoniously onto the sheets. Looking at his bruised, red lips and tousled hair, Draco felt an aching twitch in his burgeoning erection. The thought of the next day calmed Draco somewhat, as he wanted this to last.

He advanced towards the man on his bed and bent down to give him a languid kiss. Ron pulled back and pushed at Draco for him to straighten up. The blonde’s grey eyes locked with blue as the redhead took the head of his cock into his mouth. He created a tight suction, moving his lips slowly over the engorged shaft, all the while never breaking the eye contact. Draco found this to be one of the most erotic things he’d ever experienced. Hands gripped at his slender hips to slow his erratic thrusting. Ron kept at a leisurely pace, taking time to kiss and lick every inch of his cock, worshipping him and leaving him desperate for more.

“Stop,” the blonde panted when he felt the familiar fire forming in his belly. “Weasley, I don’t want to come like this.” Ron stopped his ministrations and sidled up until he was face-to-face with Draco.

“How do you want to?” he asked, nipping teasingly at the Slytherin’s earlobe. Draco’s grin was feral as he placed his hands on Ron’s hips and shoved him onto the bed. Kneeling so that he was hovering over the prone man, he placed a hand between them and gave several hard strokes to Ron’s cock.

“How do you think?” he growled, squeezing the erection in his hand. Ron moaned in pleasure and dropped his head back against the bed. “Accio lube.” The tube sailed silently through the air and landed neatly in his hand. Opening it, he squeezed some out onto his forefinger and moved back a bit so he could have better access. Having a good view of Ron’s arse, he positioned his finger at the puckered opening and slowly pushed inside. The redhead mewled and moved slightly, longing for the friction he knew was coming. Draco pressed his finger forward and curled it up, hitting what he hoped was Ron’s prostate. He smirked with satisfaction when Ron yelped and gripped at the sheets beneath him. Pulling out, he added another digit and slowly fucked the redhead, stretching him to accommodate him. As his fingers moved in and out, he took the time to take in the man laying below him. Thinking again to the next day, he scanned every inch of Ron’s face, etching it into his memory: his thick, ginger hair; his long, pale lashes; every freckle on his face. Draco never wanted to forget.

“Get on with it,” Ron cried, pulling him out of his daze. “If you make me wait any longer, Ill hex you from here to the next fucking century.” Complying, Draco pulled out his fingers and pushed his cock up against the tight sphincter. Going at a painfully slow pace, he pushed through inch-by-inch, letting Ron get used to his girth. When he finally reached the hilt, he stopped completely, not wanting it to end too soon. With a silent urging from Ron, he gradually began to move, the tightness overwhelming him. He kept at the slow pace, all the while caressing every inch of skin he could with his tongue. He had to remember how he tasted. Leaning upward, he buried his nose into the redhead’s hair and inhaled. He had to remember how he smelled.

“Malfoy,” Ron said softly, bringing Draco’s head level to his. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” he asked, trailing his right hand over Ron’s arm.

“Stop memorizing me,” he replied, shifting to place a reassuring kiss on the blonde’s lips. “I told you, everything will be fine.” Draco hesitated for a moment before nodding, reluctant to agree. He hummed in approval when Ron clenched his muscles, squeezing his cock. He started moving again, rocking slowly against the redhead.

“Fuck,” Ron hissed, thrusting against Draco. “Fuck me, Draco.” Hearing his name rolling off Ron’s tongue, Draco became impassioned and snapped his hips forward, hammering into him with vigor. With each push into his tight arse, the blonde could feel his impending orgasm building within him. Leaning forward, he locked eyes with Ron and pulled at his cock, eager to for him to reach his peak. With several more hard thrusts, the redhead convulsed and came, coating his and Draco’s torsos. Feeling the clenching muscles around his cock, Draco groaned noisily and emptied himself into Ron. Spent, he collapsed on top of the other man and reveled in the afterglow.

“Mmmpph, gerroff!” Ron grumbled, pushing Draco off to the side.

“Way to ruin the mood, Weasel.”

“You were suffocating me!”

Draco merely smirked and waved his hand in the air, mumbling the appropriate cleaning spells. Once they were clean, Ron pulled Draco against his chest and spooned him from behind. Draco lay there silently, listening to the other man’s breathing as it slowed and evened out, indicating that he had fallen asleep. The Slytherin traced imaginary patterns over a freckled arm and willed himself to believe that everything would be all right.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling that this night would be their last together.

* * *

III. Show me how it ends…

“Can you finish up here?” Draco asked Seamus, who was his second-in-command. “Just take the remaining Death Eaters to Azkaban and make sure you get a count of how many we lost on our side.”

“Sure thing, mate,” Seamus grinned before turning to bark orders at the remaining Order members. Draco quickly apparated to the edge of Hogwarts and hoped that he’d be able to find Ron among the disarray. The sight that greeted him was a horrific one. Smoke clouded the horizon, making it difficult for him to see, let alone to find someone. Bodies were strewn everywhere, some already gone, others nearing death. The remaining people were fighting a tumultuous battle, hexes flying in all directions. Draco scanned the area as best he could to locate any familiar face that could help him find Weasley. His eyes finally landed on a head of bushy, brown hair. Taking a deep breath, he broke into a run and sprinted towards Hermione, occasionally throwing out hexes to protect himself. When he finally reached her, he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind a wall.

“Malfoy?” Hermione gasped, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think, Granger?” Draco snapped, putting up a temporary shielding spell that he'd learned. “Looking for Weasley. Have you seen him?” The last part was said with a softer tone as the blonde gave an apologetic look. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper, but after seeing all the bloodshed, he’d become increasingly apprehensive with each passing second that he didn’t see Ron.

“The last time I saw him, he was up there,” she remarked, tilting her head towards what used to be the astronomy tower of Hogwarts. “He told me to come out here while he stayed behind to fend off the remaining forces.”

“You haven’t seen him since?” Draco asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “I should get up there to see if he needs any help.” He said a quick goodbye to Hermione and made his way towards the tower. Before he got within a hundred feet of the castle, a loud explosion caused him to instinctively dive to the ground. Scattered pieces of debris fell on his body, but none caused any serious damage.

“Oh, no,” he heard Hermione whisper behind him. He turned to look at her and followed her gaze upward; the tower had been completely obliterated. Draco jerked to his feet and ran as fast as he could towards the rubble, hoping to see a trace of red hair. When he reached the entrance, people were rushing out, all in various stages of injury.

He stopped one of the people who had escaped and pulled them aside. “Have you seen Weasley?” The young wizard shook his head emphatically and broke from Draco’s grasp, eager to get as far away from Hogwarts as possible. The Slytherin continued to ask each person that came out and became frustrated when all of them said that they hadn’t seen him. Finally, he saw Dean Thomas emerge from the ruins and roughly grabbed him by the arm.

“Thomas, tell me you’ve seen Weasley,” he pleaded. His heart dropped when Dean looked back worriedly and shook his head.

“He was right behind me,” Dean panted, bending over to press a hand on the wound on his leg. “But there was too much confusion, I lost him.” He looked back up at Draco ruefully. “I don’t think he made it out.” The blonde didn’t spare Dean another look and ran up the steps with Hermione following close behind. Of course Ron made it out; there was no way he couldn’t have. He ran blindly towards the demolished tower and was on his way up the final level when Hermione pulled his robes, causing him to almost tumble backwards.

“What the fuck, Granger?” he shouted, grabbing at the railing for support.

“Look, Malfoy,” Hermione said, ignoring his outburst. She pointed towards the top of the stairs at a transparent green wall that seemed to encompass the remains. “The explosion must have created an excess of magic. You’ll die if try to go through.”

“Does that mean…” Draco whispered, unable to finish his sentence.

“It means,” she began, voice wavering and tears forming in her eyes, “that even if anybody managed to survive that blast, they couldn’t have survived the magical surge.”

“No, I don’t believe it,” the Slytherin said firmly. “Weasley!” He ran as close as he could towards the field without touching it and thoroughly scanned the area. “Weasley!” He called aimlessly for what seemed like hours until his voice was hoarse. Pulling him backwards away from the force field, Hermione turned him to face her.

“He’s gone, Draco,” she sobbed sadly.

“And how are you so sure?” he growled. “How do you know?”

Hermione let go of Draco and gestured emphatically towards the tower. “Do you see that? Do you see him in there? He's not in there, Malfoy.” He could only stare at her, unable to answer. The silence tore at her defenses and her anger began to crack, revealing the anguish she felt underneath. Surprising him, she lurched forward and threw her arms around the Slytherin, crying into his shoulder. He lifted his arm and rubbed her back for comfort, but his mind was elsewhere. Gazing through the translucent green covering, he continued to search for any sign of Weasley. He knew that the odds were impossible, but maybe, just maybe…

Draco felt an unfamiliar pang spreading through his chest. It worsened as the seconds passed until he thought he was going to die from the unbearable pain. Tears spilled down his cheeks, falling one-by-one into Hermione’s hair. As he stood there with Granger leaning on him for support, he came to understand what he was feeling.

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy’s heart was breaking.

And it was the single most excruciating thing he’d ever experienced.

* * *

IV. …empty inside…

Long after the sounds of battle had died down, Draco could still be found sitting on the crumbling steps of Hogwarts. Hermione had left hours ago to inform the Weasley family and Harry of what had happened. He knew he should have gone home also, but the thought of entering his flat made his stomach churn. There were too many things there that reminded him of Weasley and he just couldn’t bear to look at them. Instead, he stayed in what he considered to be his living hell, letting the guilt and the “what if’s” consume him. If he had come several minutes earlier, Weasley would still be alive. If he had just gone to Hogwarts instead of Manchester, Weasley would still be alive.

When his body was numb from the cold, Draco finally pulled himself up and dragged his feet to the edge of Hogwarts. Taking one last look at the destruction the battle caused, he apparated himself back to his home. Once he’d taken down the wards and stepped inside, he immediately wished that he hadn’t. There were dozens of items strewn about the flat, painful testimonies of a man who would never again step foot inside: his cloak thrown carelessly over an armrest; his broom standing next to Draco’s in the corner; his old Chudley Cannons sweater that had been left behind after a night of passion; even his scent seemed to linger in the air. Taking a deep breath, Draco built up his resolve and collected all of Ron’s things that he could see. He set himself down onto the green carpeted floor and began to burn the items he had found.

“Incendio,” he whispered, and watched the cloak incinerate between his fingertips. One-by-one, he burned the items until there was nothing left but a pile of ashes on the floor. Picking up some of the dust, he rubbed it between his fingertips before letting it fall back to the ground.

“I don’t want to feel this way,” he said aloud, his voice echoing off the walls, “because it hurts too much, Weasley. I’m a Malfoy, and even though that name means nothing now, Malfoys don’t allow themselves to feel like this. I can’t be weak. I can’t live with missing you.” He picked up his wand and uttered a cleaning spell, making the ashes disappear. “I need to forget you.” He’d hoped that with the physical aspects of Ron gone, this dull ache in his chest would go away, but it was still there.

Living without the redhead was going to be a difficult feat.

But he'll manage...he had to.

* * *

V. Show me how defenseless you really are

“Malfoy?” A voice calling his name woke Draco abruptly from his nap. Getting up into a sitting position on the couch, he squinted at the fireplace and, in his sleep-induced haze, managed to make out the head of Hermione Granger.

“Merlin’s beard, Granger,” he grumbled, “what is it now? I already told you I wasn’t going to the Ministry.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Draco’s ears managed to pick up on the happiness in Hermione’s voice. He willed himself to wake up and give the head in the fireplace his attention. He tilted his chin in a silent indication for her to continue. “We finally managed to infiltrate the last remaining Death Eater Headquarters.”

The Slytherin frowned at Hermione’s head in the fireplace. Why would this news be of any interest to him? “And?”

“We found several prisoners in their dungeons,” she continued, a grin forming on her pretty face. “One of them was Ron. We found him, Malfoy. He’s alive.”

For a moment, Draco was dumbstruck. That name brought back painful memories and emotions that he had been suppressing for the last eight months. “What?”

“He was found this morning,” she explained. “He wasn’t in the tower when the explosion happened, Malfoy. Your father used a portkey and kidnapped him to those dungeons.”

“Why would he do that?” Malfoy questioned calmly, repressing the hope and joy that flooded through his heart.

“Leverage,” Hermione continued. “Voldermort was hoping to use him against Harry in the final battle.”

“How come we didn’t know about this until now?” He asked suspiciously.

“Because Voldermort didn’t want us knowing they had him. Whatever his plan for Ron was, he made sure that nobody but he and his most trusted Death Eaters knew. When our forces raided the headquarters today, they almost missed him because he was hidden so far below.” Draco stayed silent and tried to digest what he had just been told.

“Is he okay?” he asked quietly.

“He’s weak,” she replied, her smile becoming a bit sad, “but they didn’t do any permanent damage. Thank God.”

“He’ll want to see you,” Hermione continued softly. “He’s at St. Mungos.”

“Thank you, Granger,” Draco responded, his demeanor turning cold. “But I don’t think that’s a good idea. Good day.”

“Malfoy!” she whispered, stunned. “Surely you don’t mean that.”

“Don’t be so presumptuous as to assume you know what I mean, Granger. Good day.” With that, he pulled out his wand and extinguished the fire. To ensure that he wouldn’t be visited by her head again, he quickly deactivated the floo on his fireplace.
Punching the pillow on the couch to make it more comfortable, Draco laid back down and curled himself up against it. He couldn’t see Ron again. After all this time, he just couldn’t handle it.

* * *

Several weeks later…

The doorbell was a sound that Draco had never gotten used to considering the fact that nobody ever visited him. So when the sound of it rang throughout the flat, Draco almost fell out of bed in surprise. Throwing off his covers and walking to the door without bothering to put on a shirt, he vowed to hex whoever was standing behind it. He blearily opened the door and, for an instant, thought what he saw was a dream. A bit paler and much thinner than when Draco last saw him, there, on his doorstep, was Ronald Weasley.

“Weasley.” Draco found himself unable to come up with any coherent sentences.

“Honestly, Malfoy, it’s past noon,” Ron said, grinning shyly. “You should have been up ages ago.” Seeing that the blonde was unresponsive, his smile began to waver. After standing awkwardly on the doorstep for a minute, the redhead cleared his throat and sighed. “You don’t know how hard it was for me to come here, Malfoy. Please, let me in.”

Draco looked at the redhead wearily and stepped aside, allowing him to step inside. Ron made hesitant steps towards the drawing room before turning to face the Slytherin.

“H-how are you?” Draco managed to finally choke out.

“Fantastic,” he answered sarcastically. “I was just off on a glorious vacation in a secluded dungeon cell.”

“Weasley,” the blonde started, but was interrupted by Ron.

“Then, to make things even better, when I came back from my trip, the person I wanted to see most couldn’t make the time to come see me.” Now that the initial discomfort had worn off, the redhead seemed to rediscover his Weasley temper.

“Shove off, Weasel,” Draco snapped, not one to take an attack lying down. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Ron seemed affronted by the statement as his ears became red with rage. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he shouted, hurt lacing the anger. “Did you wish me dead, Malfoy?”

“No,” Draco hollered, throwing the glass that he’d been holding against the wall. “I would never wish you dead, but for the longest time you were. You were gone, Weasley, and just when I was finally able to accept it, you came prancing back. You can’t possibly assume that I can just pretend the last eight months didn’t happen.” He stopped a moment to catch his breath. “Have you any idea what losing you did to me? It completely shattered me, Weasley. It took me so long to pick up the pieces and move on. I was trying to forget you.” He turned to face Ron, who was now standing several feet from him, head bowed and shoulders heaving. “I can’t let you back in, Weasley. I couldn’t handle it if I ever lost you again.” Ron remained still, attempting to calm his breath before he spoke.

“What do you think it was like for me?” he began softly. “ I spent every day in that cell thinking it was my last. Every sound I heard was like a death sentence. I lived in constant fear, but do you know what made me hold on?” Draco shook his head, refusing to look the redhead in the eyes. “It was you, Draco. I held on so that I could come back to you.” He stepped forward and cupped Draco’s face with his hand. “When I was finally rescued, all I could think about was seeing you. Do you know how much it hurt knowing that you didn’t want to see me?”

Draco wrenched out of his grasp and walked to the other side of the room, turned away from the redhead. “I know, and I’m sorry. But...”

“You were dead,” he continued, his voice raising with every word. “I-I couldn't handle it, so I blocked out the pain. I let you go.” He was shouting now, upping his anger to overshadow that aching deep inside him that threatened to come out once more. “I can’t feel like that again, Weasley, I can’t.”

Ron inched towards the blonde and turned him, placing his arms around Draco’s waist. “Rid yourself of this anger you have inside you, Malfoy. It’s okay to feel that pain.” The redhead leaned in to kiss his temple. “Feel it and then let it go. Because I’m here now, and I’m not leaving.” Draco's resolve began to crumble and he finally gave in the sorrow he’d been bottling up. He began to sob, throwing his arms around Ron’s shoulders and burying his face in his neck. He cried out every bit of pain he held inside of him, cleansing his soul.

Eventually he pulled away and looked into bright blue eyes.“I should be comforting you,” he said, feeling a bit embarrassed to have been crying like a little child.

“S’okay,” Ron shrugged. “I was always the more emotionally stable one.” Draco threaded a hand through the redhead’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss. It was slow, with both men savoring what they had long missed. Draco was the first to pull away and pressed his forehead against Ron’s.

“If you ever leave me again, Weasel,” the Slytherin commented snarkily, “I swear I'll kill you myself.”

Ron laughed and nuzzled his nose against Draco’s. “I promise I won't.”

.............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

"So Cold": by Breaking Benjamin.