The picnic lunch was finished and packed back in the hamper thoughtfully provided by the house elves. It had even been magically shrunk and put back in Ron's backpack, and tension was thick in the air. There was no evading it now. They lay on their backs in the shade, not looking at each other.

"Well," began Ron, "I'm not quite sure what to say."

"Neither am I." A short pause followed before Draco spoke again:

"Ron, there's something I've always wanted to ask you." Ron tensed. "It's about the war, right at the end, when they put Information and Strategy together - do you remember?"

"How could I forget? That was the first time you were ever civil to me."

"It would have been petty to continue to treat you like dirt when we were in mortal peril. Anyway. Do you remember when the Deatheaters came? That last time? It was the final day of the war, actually, if I remember right."

"Yes, I remember." Ron was radiating unease now. He knew what was coming and wished it could be avoided forever. Draco took some deep breaths as if nerving himself.

"What happened? How did Lucius die?¡± There was a slight pause. ¡°The truth, Ron. Did you kill him?"

"He was standing over you. Wand poised." The words were dragged from Ron, like he was going under a cold, dark stream. "I had my knife in one hand, my wand in the other, there was blood on both, and I turned and saw him raise his wand. His face- I've never seen anything so twisted with hate and rage; I knew I couldn't get to you in time. He hit you with crucio - it's the only reason you're here today. He trusted the others to deal with us while he tortured his son. I leaped forward. I was hit with a disarming curse as I leapt, I don't know why they were bothering with disarming instead of just killing us, but I still had my knife. I was on him in an instant, and- and-" He took a deep breath, having moved to lie curled up in a ball, fists clenched. "Yes, I killed him. I put my knife between his ribs and twisted; then I stabbed again and again, to make sure he was dead, and was never going to raise his wand again. I killed others too, but he's the one I remember most clearly. The blood flew out of his body, and dripped down my knife and the smell was hot in my mouth.¡± Ron started to cry then, and was startled to feel Draco's body over his. He twisted away, but Draco was insistent, and was soon laying half on top of Ron, cradling his body. Draco knew that later he would feel other things, but right now all he felt was relief, and pain that he had upset Ron.

"Shh," he whispered, rubbing Ron's back.

"I killed him, I killed your father."

"He was no father of mine." Ron opened his eyes and blinked through tears to see Draco was crying too. "I just had to know. I had to know what happened. I thought, through the pain, that I saw you kill him, but I wasn't sure." Draco continued to rub Ron's back in soothing circles.

"I was so frightened, when they came in. But I knew they would kill me if I didn't kill them first. I had nightmares afterwards. I woke up screaming."

"Me, too."

They clung to each other like two terrified children, Ron still sobbing. Draco held on to him as tight as he could.

"You saved my life," he whispered into Ron's ear, but Ron shook his head angrily.

"I'm a murderer. I killed them. You should hate me."

"You saved my life. And yours. And other's too, maybe."

Ron continued to cry, and Draco's tears mingled with his.

"Shh, stop crying, love," he soothed, and Ron burrowed into him. Draco kissed his forehead, kissed his eyes, kissed his ears, and Ron pulled him close and searched for his lips. The kiss was hot and needy. Ron seemed so small and delicate under Draco's hands, and Draco put every bit of reassurance and love he could into his kiss, into the hands that held Ron and stroked his back.

"Ron. Ron, look at me." Draco pulled back and cupped Ron's face in his hands. "Ron, I want you." Ron's eyes opened, and Draco nearly drowned in them, still swimming with tears. "I don't care. I want you. I want to be with you." Ron's eyes spoke his doubts. Draco repeated himself. "I want you. I want to try this. To see where it goes, what happens between us. I feel... I don't know what I feel, but it's strong." Draco was suddenly assailed by doubt himself. "That is, if you want it, of course."

Ron didn't reply, and Draco started to pull back, thinking that he'd made a hideous mistake, and that Ron only wanted him for something short term. He was startled when Ron's arms suddenly wrapped round him and pulled him into a fierce embrace. It seemed like Ron was trying to climb inside Draco, and they held on to each other tightly. Ron spoke into Draco's neck.

"Yes. Yes. Yes! I thought you didn't want it, I was so confused, but - yes!" Draco started laughing, his arms wrapping round Ron and holding him close.

"Good." He kissed Ron's forehead, the only part of him he could reach in their tangled embrace. "I'm glad." Ron was half laughing, half crying; shaking all over and curled round Draco as far as he could go. Draco held him tight and waited for him to calm down, crying a little himself. He had always wanted to know if what he had seen, in the little space of lucidity between when the curse was broken and when he passed out, was true. He had seen Ron land on his father, push him to the ground, he had seen the knife rise and fall and rise and fall again, faintly heard the curses and seen the tears. He had reached out for Ron, but blackness had taken him and smothered him. He hadn't realised how hard it had been for Ron, and wondered if Ron had been able to talk about it with anyone before.

Eventually Ron stopped shaking and they lay tangled together on the grass. Ron's eyes started to get heavy and he snuggled into Draco's shoulder.

"Hey, don't go to sleep." Ron murmured something incomprehensible and got more comfortable. "Come on, we've got to get back to the castle."

"Not working this afternoon."

"I didn't say anything about that." Ron lifted one heavy eyelid and looked at Draco, backlit by the summer sunlight. He opened both his eyes. "We need some quiet time," Draco insisted. "We'll finish our work tomorrow. OK?"

Of course it was ok. Ron couldn't believe how things had turned out. He knew that they would have to talk bout it again, but for the moment he felt clean and happy and free. He had told Draco what had happened, the day Ron had killed Lucius, and Draco hadn't turned away. In fact, Draco wanted him, and Ron couldn't have been happier. He let Draco heave him to his feet, and they shouldered their bags and strode back to Hogwarts. Draco held Ron's hand the whole way, uncaring that he was smiling like a fool; hell, he was smiling like a Hufflepuff, uncaring about anything aside from the fact that he was walking back to Hogwarts with Ron, and they were together and he felt good.

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