This was Ron's nightmare made flesh. Lucius Malfoy at the front door, demanding to see his son.

"But he's dead, remember?" Ron said, straight-faced, trying to keep his trembling body under control. He didn't want to know what Lucius Malfoy would do when properly provoked.

"Don't you dare speak to me with such insolence, you demon child," the senior Malfoy's voice boomed.

"It's true, sir. Front page of The Daily Prophet. Did you miss that issue?"

"Draco! Come here immediately!" Lucius shouted. He made no attempt to enter the house. Ron couldn't be sure if it was fear or disgust that kept the older man on the other side of the threshold.

"He's not . . ."

"Yes, Father?" Draco asked coolly. Ron hadn't heard him come down the stairs or walk up behind him. He whirled around in anger.

"What are you doing? Go back upstairs!"

"This has to be done, Ron, or I'll never be shed of this." Draco looked like he'd aged 20 years in the thirty seconds since he'd heard his father's voice.

"He is not coming in here," Ron said angrily, pointing toward Lucius.

"It's okay. We can talk outside. This probably won't take long." Draco walked out, his father casting a withering glance at Ron before following his son. Ron didn't close the door, not hiding the fact he wanted to hear every word of the exchange.

"What are you doing here?" Lucius spat out at his son. "Do you do these things intentionally to bring shame to your family?"

Draco stood calmly before his father, hands clasped behind his back. He wanted this conversation to end quickly with as little difficulty as possible. "I didn't think this would be any concern of yours, Father. I am dead to you, after all."

"Perhaps, but you're still a Malfoy. You signed your own death warrant when you took up with this . . . this . . .," Lucius' hand gestured back toward the house.

"His name is Ron Weasley, Father. I love him, and he loves me."

Lucius backhanded his son across his right cheek so fast, neither had time to blink. He saw the red streak across his son's right cheek caused by his ring and examined the back of his own hand as if it were foreign to him.

Draco was so accustomed to being struck, he hadn't flinched. "I hope you enjoyed that, Father, as that is the last time you will ever lay a hand on me." He watched his father's mouth move, but no words came out. "You told the world I was dead. I would appreciate it if you would treat me as such."

"You've picked up this Weasley boy's filthy habits, I see," Lucius said. "It will serve you right to spend the rest of your days with these people, as opposed to enjoying the status into which you were born. You've made your bed, boy, and you shall rot in it."

"Thank you for coming by, sir." Draco stared at his father, arms still behind his back, his fingernails digging into his wrists. It took every ounce of his willpower not to tremble in his father's presence. He watched his father disapparate.

Ron ran out and caught Draco just before he hit the ground. The blond allowed the shaking to overtake him as Ron held him, soothed him, whispering assurances.

"I hope I never have to do that again," Draco prayed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Do you really think he'll leave you alone now?" Ron asked. He had fixed lunch for the two of them, as they were own their own at the Burrow that day.

"I can only hope he'll turn his back and simply forget I exist. That way, I can go on with my life."

"I'm so sorry," Ron said quietly, grasping Draco's hand across the table. Draco laced his fingers with Ron's and they finished their meal in silence.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Can we talk?" Ron asked. He'd wanted to have this conversation with Draco for several weeks.

"Absolutely." Draco flopped into the nearest chair. The two had spent another lazy afternoon at the Burrow. "What's on your mind?"

"Summer's almost over." Ron stopped and began fiddling with a loose thread on his jeans. He shook his head, unable to organize his thoughts. He'd gone over exactly what he wanted to say just before they sat down, but now it was gone. He wanted to sound curious, not needy, without sounding like he was prying for information. Was he making this harder than it should be?

"Hey." Draco moved to sit by him on the couch. He took both Ron's hands in his and, with his finger under Ron's chin, forced the redhead to look him in the eye. "You can tell me anything. Don't ever forget that."

Taking a deep breath, Ron began. "Okay. Summer's almost over. Wait, I already said that. Anyway, you'll be joining the team soon, practicing for the coming season. Have you thought about where you're going to be staying? Not that my parents would mind your staying here, I just wondered . . ." The expectant look in Ron's eyes couldn't be mistaken.

Draco hesitated for a moment. He briefly considered torturing Ron, but, in the end, couldn't bring himself to do it. "Well, you know the team gives me a flat. I just assumed you'd stay with me."

"You really thought about this?"

"Of course, I did. I'll be training with the team, and when the season starts, we'll be doing quite a bit of traveling. I probably won't spend much time in the flat, but when I'm there, I'd like you to be there, too. I know you'll be traveling a great deal with the chess team, but . . ."

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll live with you!" Ron flung his arms around Draco's neck and squeezed.

When he could finally breathe again, Draco said, "I'm glad that's settled. So, are we finished talking?"

"Yeah, I guess that's it. Why?"

Draco's mouth captured Ron's mouth and pushed him down on the couch. When he came up for a breath, he said, "We're going to do what I want to do now, okay?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"This feels so strange," Ron marveled, looking out the window of their new flat. He'd only ever known life at home with his enormous family, or Hogwarts with students and faculty numbering over a thousand. Now, it was just him and Draco, on their own. This was going to take some adjustment.

Draco embraced him from behind and kissed his neck. "This is going to be great." Draco had been given a variety of locations to choose from, and they had chosen a flat in Hogsmeade. Away from home for the first time, but in an area they were familiar and comfortable with. One big step at a time. The chiming of the doorbell interrupted their reverie.

"Our first visitors." Draco smiled. "Did you invite someone without telling me?"

"No," Ron said, shaking his head. "My parents aren't coming until next month. I'll get it."

His first instinct was to slam the door closed on the young men standing in the hallway. "Crabbe. Goyle." He couldn't think of anything else to say, and simply nodded his head at the pair.

"Draco here?" Goyle asked.

"Uh, yeah." Ron motioned the two into the flat.

"Hey!" Draco shouted in surprise at the two. "What brings you two here? How did you know where to find me?"

"We tracked you down through the team," Crabbe answered. "Told them we were old school mates and they told us where to find you."

Draco smiled. "Great." He was going to have to tell the team not to give out that information to anyone.

"Can we buy you a butterbeer? We're only here for the night. Leaving tomorrow."

"Uh, okay. Sure. Ron? Want to join us?" Draco asked.

"No, that's okay. I've still got some unpacking to do. You go ahead."

Draco waved the other two on. "You guys go ahead. I'll be out in a minute." He waited until the door closed and turned back to Ron. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Ron nodded. "You go ahead. You three were friends for a long time. Go and have a good time. I'll be fine."

"I don't know. Friends might be stretching things a bit."

"You know what I mean."

"Okay." Draco pulled him close and kissed him deeply, running his fingers through Ron's thick mane. "There'll be more of that when I get home." Another quick kiss and he was gone.

"You'd better come home," Ron said quietly when the door closed behind Draco.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Can I ask you something without your jumping down my throat?" Goyle asked Draco. They sat in a booth toward the back of Three Broomsticks, each nursing a butterbeer.

"Depends," Draco answered warily. He knew exactly where this conversation was going. He should have smelled a rat as soon as they walked into his flat.

"Why are you still doing this?"

"And by this you mean . . ."

"Weasley." Goyle spat out the name as if cursing.

Draco slammed down his bottle, spraying all three of them. "If this is why you came to see me, you can leave now."

"Just hear us out, okay?" Crabbe spoke up. "We were friends for a long time, and we came to talk some sense into you. It was one thing while we were in school, but now? You're the best Seeker on the best Quidditch team in the league. You could have the world at your feet, but here you are with . . ."

"My father sent you, didn't he?" Draco asked.

Goyle answered quickly, "No, he didn't. This is us. Look, this is stupid. Maybe we weren't really friends, but damnit, we knew you better than anybody else. This is not you. You were meant for greater things than this."

"You mean life as a Death Eater? No, thanks."

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you don't think about it. You can taste it, can't you? The life you once had. The life you should have. The life you could still have. A house so big you'll never see all the rooms. Servants and house elves. More women than you could possibly fuck in a lifetime." When Goyle saw Draco's expression, he quickly amended his statement. "Fine, more men than you could possibly fuck. Whatever. Whatever you want, you know you can have it, with the snap of a finger. It's yours for the asking."

Draco felt his pulse quicken as Goyle spoke. He did remember the life he once had. It came back to him now, in vivid detail. He'd once told Ron the bad things about his upbringing, how is parents beat him. They did, he hadn't lied about that. Now, he remembered what was good. Some of it really had been. He always knew he'd lived a privileged life. His parents never let him forget it, especially when it came to comparing their family to others, like the Weasleys. His parents believed that money, status and name were more important than love. That's how he'd grown up believing that Weasleys were such low creatures. He always got everything he asked for. He was waited on hand and foot, his every need taken care of before he could voice it. His every desire fulfilled.

He closed his eyes and let himself drift back to Malfoy Manor and, for the first time in a long while, smiled when he thought about his former home. His quarters had been enormous, more than any person could possibly have dreamed of. He always had the most fashionable robes. The best food. The best of everything.

"See?" Goyle interrupted. "What did I tell you? You still want it, don't you? Just go to your father. Tell him you're sorry. That's it. It's over, like it never happened."

I doubt that, Draco thought, shaking his head. "No. I'm not going back."

"Don't be so fucking stupid," Crabbe cut in. "Do you want to die? Is that what you really want? Because, it can be arranged."

"My father wouldn't do that."

"He already has, you idiot," Goyle told him through clenched teeth. "You and Weasley are going to be breaking your lease any day now. I'm pretty sure there won't be any refund of the security deposit. The landlord will be using it to mop up the carnage before the next tenant moves in."

Draco's normally pale skin went even whiter. "Ron? He's going to have Ron killed?"

"This is your father we're talking about, Draco. You know his method. Scorched earth."

"No," Draco answered, his voice breaking. "Not Ron. If I go back, he's got to leave Ron alone."

Goyle shook his head. "I don't believe this. You've actually been serious, this thing with Weasley? I thought it was just you trying to be independent, standing up to your father. I never knew you had feelings for him. Unbelievable." Goyle drained his bottle and signaled the waitress for another.

"I want absolute assurance that nothing happens to Ron. Ever. If I hear he has a bad cold, I'll find out who sneezed on him. Starting with you two. I'll turn you inside out and have what's left shipped to Romania to be fed to the dragons."

Crabbe and Goyle stared at each other, conferring silently. After a few seconds, Crabbe nodded, "Done."

"I've got to stop by the flat, get some things," Draco said as they headed out the door.

"No," Goyle said, stepping in front of him.

"Come on, I can't just walk away. I have to say something to him."

"No," Goyle repeated. "What would you say to him, anyway? I'm going away for a while? I'll drop you a line? Besides, if you see him, he'll know something is wrong. He'll talk you out of leaving with us. They always do. Besides, whatever you left behind at the flat, you can have fifty of when you get to your father's house."

No, Draco thought. There's only one of what I really want. And once I leave, I'll never get him back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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