You Know You Are Loved When A Gryffindor Loves You

31

As Vincent and Greg weren’t too seriously injured, it was decided to move them a little way away from the hospital into one of the secure private rooms. They were quite happy to be moved, even requested that they be locked up until the Aurors could question them. Severus was convinced of their truth, neither lad had the real guile required for a Slytherin, just brute force and ignorance, and knew that they would have no problems with the questioning, but there was the small question of killing Narcissa Malfoy. He sighed as he locked and spelled the boys’ new quarters.

Despite gently questioning Draco again, there was no more information forthcoming on the deaths of the DeathEaters. He gently patted the boy’s knee as he stood. “We’ll get the Auror in, in about a week or so. Poppy will have Albus and I’s hides if we try to bring someone in earlier, so a week it is. You just lie here and get better. I don’t know, waited on hand and foot, you’re a lucky man Draco”, he turned to leave. “Severus?” The man turned. “It’s not like being waited on....I think it’s being loved....cared for. He loves me you know?”, the quiet voice from the bed. Severus nodded, “I never thought I’d say this about Weasleys, but they’re a damn fine clan. Maybe it’s just a Gryffindor thing. Do you love him?”

Draco looked down then back into his godfather’s eyes, “I don’t know. I keep telling myself all sorts of reasons not to, shite I’ve been fed all my life, but somehow, when he holds me in that big hug, it all pales to insignificance. I feel like I’m standing at the top of a very sheer cliff. I know if I fall I will be caught in big strong arms, but all my senses of self-preservation are screaming at me to get away from the edge”.

Severus regarded his godson, levelly, “You know that bravery isn’t necessarily a Slytherin trait, but, having said that, you know you are loved when a Gryffindor loves you, believe me. Take the hug, fall, it takes courage, but it’s worth it. But don’t dangle him, Gryffindors have huge hearts, bless them, but they’re a mite fragile, and if you repeat a word of this to anyone, I’ll hex you into the middle of next century”, he grinned then and left, indicating to Ron, hovering outside, to go back in. “You’re doing a fine job, Mr Weasley”, he murmured as they passed in the doorway.

Ron smiled to see the grin on his boyfriend’s face as he closed the door, “What was all that about?” Draco smiled, “Just Severus waxing lyrical as he is wont to do on occasion, about love of all things”. Ron sat on the bed and looked at the floor, “D’you know? If you’d have told me that two years ago, I’d have laughed from here to friggin’ doomsday, but, well, I dunno. I saw him at the weddin’ and how they were together and that bondlight and the way they look after each other. I’d a never a’ thought it possible from him, not in a month of Sundays....”, his voice tailed off, “I’d like a love like that in my life, dunno about the kids ‘cos I’m gay, but, yeah, a huge love like they’ve got. I know Severus tries to hide it round school and stuff and you probably haven’t had chance to see them together much, but him and Harry are totally gone on each other, maybe it’s the bond....”, he sighed.

He looked up at a gentle prod to his ribs and Draco patted the bed, “Come and lie down with me. I need another of those hugs”. Ron’s smile was shy as he carefully positioned himself, his forearm under Draco’s neck leaning up on the elbow, his other hand cupping the unswollen side of Draco’s face and looked down into Draco’s eyes. “I really love you, Draco. Not just ‘cos of all of this, but this has made me realise how much. I was terrified when the link was broken. We were getting a plan together to come and get you and now, here you are. I don’t ever want to let you go again”. With tears in his eyes he kissed Draco’s lips gently then drew away.

you know you are loved when a Gryffindor loves you, believe me.

Draco felt his own eyes tear and managed to reach for Ron’s waist and pull them closer together. Ron kissed his eyelids one at a time then the tip of his nose then parted his lips over Draco’s carefully and their tongues met, he wanted to crush and devour but held back mindful of his lover’s injuries.

Draco’s various drips had all been removed and his ribs were healing nicely now the internal bleeding had stopped and Skele-Gro could be administered along with more powerful painkillers.

He could open his mouth a little wider to accept more of the kiss and move his arm up Ron’s back but his shoulders still complained if he tried for any higher, he wanted to pull Ron right on top of him, but knew he dared not. Today he would learn the value of gentleness.

As they emerged, Draco whispered, “Touch me, Ron. Please, I want...”, he caught Ron’s elbow and pulled the hand down and slid it over his crotch. “Are you sure, baby? Want you too”, Ron tried not to press too urgently into a bruised hip. Draco flexed slightly into the flat palm covering him through the sheet, “How the fuck can we.....? I hurt everywhere.....oh shit, I’m useless to you....fuck, so turned on.....so wanting you”. Ron hushed him a moment and looked into his panicked eyes, “We’ll just use hands then and kiss. Let me just get this....”, he panted and undid himself. Draco giggled, “Clothes off, Weasley. I want to touch everywhere I can”, and Ron wriggled out of his clothes and under the covers. It was a tight squeeze, two tall lads in a single bed, but they coped admirably, touching and frotting and wanking each other as they chuckled and kissed and it was all over in a matter of minutes as it had been a while for them both and they lay together panting and kissing and looking and lost in each other’s eyes.

Weasley, no, Ron, here goes. I’m standing on the edge. I’m not scrabbling backwards. I stand up straight, my arms spread wide and tip forward. You’d better be there to catch me, you gorgeous red-haired git. Here I go on the count of three. One....Two.....Aaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!

Draco lay very still next to Ron and watched his lover doze, the freckles he’d once thought coarse hid the smoothest softest skin, the hair that seemed rough was springy silk to the touch, even the man’s chest and belly hair were fine red gold and not wiry in the least. He drew back the sheet a bit and feasted his eyes on the gently curved planes of the chest, the flat belly, sculpted arms and shoulders. He knew Ron was only a couple of inches taller but had at least a stone on him in weight and not a spare ounce on him anywhere. He really was beautiful and Draco sighed his appreciation as his fingertips ghosted over a rosy red nipple, the same colour as the head of his cock when aroused. He bit his lip as he finished his perusal and pulled the sheet up around them both. He didn’t care about the sticky come drying on his belly, he didn’t care that they were in the wet spot, but he did care a great deal for his red bear sleeping in his arms. On that thought, he let himself drift into sleep.

Neither noticed a thing as Poppy let herself in. She took Draco’s pulse after she had extracted an arm from the tangle of boys then laid his hand back on Ron’s waist. She stood back and looked at them, the slight smiles and the flushed cheeks. She left a fresh carafe of water and some snacks by the bed and left as quietly as she had come.

****

A week later: Draco was much better now, able to feed himself and shuffle around, get to the loo etcetera. He still needed help to shower but Ron was always on hand to volunteer with a lecherous grin. Draco had decided to fall and accept the hug. It was as if a light had gone on inside of him and he hated it when Ron had to be absent for whatever reason. He would sulk until those big arms went around him and he was cuddled out of his funks. His nightmares were harder, but Ron would stay awake with him either talking or just holding as the tears and the shivers subsided, then always wait until he knew Draco was asleep again before letting his own eyes close again.

When Mad-eye was brought once again out of retirement to question the boys under Veritaserum, Ron held Draco tight as the boy recounted in a dead voice the tortures to which he had been submitted with tears streaming down his face. All of the boys’ accounts tallied and clearly none of them had killed the four Death Eaters and didn’t know who had, but Vincent and Greg were taken to a special holding cell at the Ministry where they were safe for the time being. They would probably end up doing time for the killing but no-one wanted to subject them to the Kiss. Neither were Marked and neither wished to be Marked, they just wanted to be safe from the enemy and were incarcerated as much for their own safety as for any crime they may have committed. They also needed a full debriefing from the various departments of Magical Law Enforcement.

Ron held his beloved tight through the following three hellish nights of nightmares while the memories bubbled so close to the surface, particularly the barbarity of his lover’s father, who had protected himself somehow then raped his own son face to face just after the splintery broom handle, forcing more pain on his only son because in his father’s eyes he was now ‘sullied’ and ‘spoiled’. Ron wouldn’t have blamed Draco one bit for killing the evil bastard. Once Draco was asleep he let go his own torrents of angry tears into his lover’s hair.

There was a tense week where Draco refused to eat and stared absently into space just wanting to die, but Ron worked hard to bring him out of it, talking, holding, letting him cry, rail and shout as the anger took over from the despair, even when Draco pushed him away he refused to rise in his customary hot-headed manner and held on tighter, he knew this was a necessary part of healing. He would stay in the room and just sit in the chair as his lover ranted and swore then he would look up in the silence that followed the storms to see tears wetting Draco’s face and his arms held out, a broken look in his eyes and would be back on the bed with Draco’s head buried in his chest or shoulder, his arms wrapping tight.

They were visited frequently. Harry or Severus or Albus or Minerva or Ginny would drop in with rarer visits from Hermione. Draco was allowed to write to and receive letters from Crabbe and Goyle so long as they skirted the issues of what had gone on at Malfoy Manor.

Draco got a shock when he discovered that the family’s assets had been frozen pending the results of the investigation. He had arrived back at Hogwarts in nought but his skin and this looked like how he would stay until first Harry and Severus, then Ginny and Hermione arrived with bags of new clothes for him. Hermione had tended towards the practical with jeans and sweatshirts and t-shirts and underwear but Severus and Harry threw in a few luxuries, a couple of fine cashmere sweaters, silk socks and boxers, wool trousers and a black sheepskin lined leather jacket that Draco loved and Ron envied until Harry treated him to the British version of the flying jacket in distressed brown leather with a creamy beige sheepskin lining and bought them both new shoes. Ron protested, “You don’t need to buy me stuff guys”, but still grinned when he tried on the new jacket.

When Draco could get around a bit, the married couple invited the two to their digs for dinner one Saturday night and Draco finally got to meet the family. There was an air of celebration. The NEWTs had just finished and Harry was happy at the way his deferred practicals had gone, not to mention he was fully expected to ace his DADA. Severus let them in to their rooms as a delicious aroma met them from the kitchen. Harry stuck his messy head around the door to welcome his guests and disappeared again into the steamy kitchen.

Ron followed him leaving Severus and Draco to chat by themselves for a bit. “Bloody hell, Harry, cooking?” Harry shrugged, “I’ve been able to cook since I was eight, and, before you ask, cooking for Severus is nothing like cooking for the Dursleys. At least now, I have an appreciative audience”, and Ron laughed, hugging his friend. He told of their week and how difficult it had been hearing Draco’s horrific rapes told in that flat monotone, the following nightmares, the fears that they had that Draco would be unable to function in some areas of their sex lives. “He’s still twitchy and paranoid if I go anywhere near his arse. I don’t blame him in the slightest but I know he thinks I’ll abandon him or something if he can’t do everything with me. I’d never do anything like that. I love the guy. You don’t go running out on love just because it gets difficult. It was you who taught me that, Harry”.

Harry smiled, “No it wasn’t, idiot, you already knew that. That’s why I’ve been able to trust you all these years. I just don’t think that these Slytherins of ours have ever received constancy in their lives unless it’s something to do with fear, envy or hatred. Love is a new thing to both of them. Just keep loving him with all your heart. I know he’s coming round to it, I can see it in the way he looks at you, he’s incapable of giving all right now, he’s guarded and frightened, but just keep being there, I know he wants to fall but he’s scared”. Ron rolled his eyes, “Bloody Slytherins, eh?”, and Harry laughed, “Yeah, but they’re our bloody Slytherins. Trust us to get the two trickiest from the woodpile”, and Ron joined in as he helped to dish the meal up.

Alex was a bit too wriggly for Draco’s sensitive ribcage, but Amanda sat perfectly peacefully in her new uncle’s lap and let him feed her, her large dark eyes regarding him sombrely until she decided to trust him and graced him with one of her rare smiles that lit her eyes. Draco was in love. “God, Severus, she’s just like you, but not. She’s incredible”. After the meal the four played with the little ones until their parents went to change them and settle them for the night. Harry returned to his guests and on the way to the bathroom, Draco peeked in and saw the fearsome Potions Master reading his two children some asinine story about two gnome-like creatures who lived in flowerpots and had a friend called ‘little weed’, and his kiddies were lapping it up.

Draco grinned as he limped back into the room and pointed back towards the bedroom, “Story time”, he whispered and giggled. Harry offered drinks all round now the grown-ups were alone and the little ones asleep. He poured a glass of wine for his beloved and Draco and he and Ron cracked cans.

Severus joined them a short while later, “They’re asleep at long last”, he sighed making it seem like a burden but Harry knew he loved that alone time with his children and batted his arm, “Shut up, Severus, you love it really”, and the dark man took his Harry in his arms and nuzzled his ear, “Of course I love it, brat, though I can’t wait until we’re reading them something more meaningful than ‘Miffy’ books”. Harry fell backwards into those possessive arms and sank happily, laughing, and Draco understood Ron’s words of a few days previously. These two really did share a great love, a huge and all-encompassing love that was very private and beautiful to see. Draco reached for Ron and was in his big bear-like arms in a heartbeat. This love wasn’t that big. Yet. Although Draco could feel the sinking, the acceptance and, somewhere, his heart started to let go of the horror and embrace the love that was his for the taking, no, the sharing. He was confused. Happy, but confused.

Draco was finally told a little about their exile, there was a lot Ron hadn’t known either. The panic when Harry thought he was going to miscarry Alex, the sneaking back to do his exams, what it was really like to live as Muggles, some of the details of the honeymoon with Draco eagerly joining the discussion on modern Art with his own rather pretentious views to be shot down in flames by Harry then shown a picture of ‘Guernica’ which both Draco and Ron were confused by until Harry told the story and deciphered it for them. “You see”, Harry said, his cheeks burning with his passion, “Muggle art doesn’t move but it truly can move the soul”. In truth, both were taken aback by his evident love and were a little overwhelmed.

As the wine and beer flowed, Harry was persuaded to dig out his guitar and played and sang for them all. A few folk songs, some protest stuff that Severus liked then a few Marley tunes including a simple version of ‘Redemption Song’ that they all applauded not without tears in their eyes. Draco sighed, “I miss the piano at home. I had no idea you were musical, Harry”. Severus smiled, “Neither did I until we spent that first Christmas at home”. Ron said, “I’ve heard you play before but you never sang up in the dorm. Why was that? You’ve got a great voice”. Harry blushed, “It didn’t do to have too many talents at school, you know what I mean?” Ron nodded, “Bloody shame, really, that the Arts were never taught here, not that I’m slagging off the teaching we did receive, but there should have been room for Art”, and all agreed.

Severus made a vow to himself. Most gifted and intelligent children had some streak of artistic endeavour within them and if he could do anything about it, then it would be on the curriculum in the next few years, if possible, before his own children entered the establishment as students.

Harry put down his guitar and relaxed in his husband’s arms as they all talked deep into the night. Draco was amazed at the changes in a certain Mr Severus Potter-Snape and said so as he and Ron wobbled back to the infirmary to their private room, “I hardly know him, yet I do. This is the side of him I’ve been trying to find for years. I always knew it was there. I always got a present from him at Christmas and birthdays even when my parents forgot, Severus never did and now I know why. He’s a really decent bloke under all the starchy crap and I salute a certain Mr Potter for bringing it out”, he giggled and lurched against Ron who caught him. He turned in the redhead’s arms, “Are you gonna rescue me, Ron? I need it”, and Ron simply took him into his arms and murmured, “Yes, as far as in me lies. Even if you dump me when you’re better. If I can help then I will. I love you sweet chibi Dragon and this is what love means”.

Draco was overcome and buried his face in Ron’s neck. “I’m not sure what love is, Ron, but if this is love, then I am totally in love with you. Does that make sense?” Ron held tighter and grinned, “Yes, utterly. Now kiss me you gorgeous blond git. I love you too”, and his heart melted as he kissed his favourite Slytherin in an empty corridor and led them both back to their bed.