Left Behind
Chapter Five
Draco placed Maggie on the ground while he half-carried Hermione upstairs to her bedroom. Maggie, not completely understanding what was happening waited, fidgeting, by the bedroom door. After placing Hermione on top of her bed, Draco sighed, looking over at his goddaughter. "Magpie, will you do uncle Draco a favor?" he asked, kneeling down in front of her.
Maggie nodded, smiling though her eyes kept darting to her mum worriedly. "Will it help mummy?" she wondered.
"Yeah, sweetie, it's gonna help your mum," he told her, smiling briefly. "I need you to give uncle Draco and your mum some time to talk. So I want you to go and read in your room for awhile okay? Why don't you check out that book I sent you last week?"
"Okay," she agreed, grinning. "Can I come see her later?" she asked, thoughtfully.
"Of course," Draco told her, smiling. "Just give me some time to cheer her up, okay?"
Maggie nodded, turning to hurry down the hall to her bedroom.
Sighing, he closed the bedroom door and crossed the room to lie down beside Hermione. Her eyes were closed but brightly red rimmed, with tears slipping out the tightly shut lids. Her jaw was clenched, leaving her mouth looking puckered in agony, more from her emotional state than physical. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her, while her knees were brought halfway up; making her look like she was curling into herself.
Reaching out, he brushed her soft hair off her cheek, wiping her tears. She shuddered then, letting out a thick sob before she let her arms drop and moved over to huddle up against him. Hugging her, he rubbed her shaking back, letting her get it all out. In six years, he had to do something similar to this far too often. Because of Harry Potter, boy-who-lived-to-break-people's-hearts, Draco had been left picking up the pieces of numerous people's lives. More so Hermione than most though; given that she was completely and utterly in love with him and pregnant at the time. In the beginning, when he came across her looking desolate and alone, he had the distinct feeling in his stomach that he was in way over his head. But somehow, everything turned out for him.
His life had been anything but ordinary; from when he was a small child he had been bred to hate everything Hermione stood for. He had been raised to live for Voldemort and his beliefs, but while attending school that had changed. Without his father's ever commanding voice telling him what he had to do, and seeing the way the Golden Trio so selflessly fought for their side, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had been fed lies all along. Speaking with Dumbledore, McGonagall, and even Arthur Weasley, he had learned the error in his ways. Of course, he wasn't about to shout this from the school tables at lunch time or anything. Instead, he decided to use his position in a much better way, by becoming a spy for the Light side. Unlike Severus Snape, he was fully committed to the good side, though he was quite cunning at hiding it.
After the War, and after he had proved to everybody that he was really a good guy, he had tried his best to find his place in the new world. He wasn't really a Malfoy anymore, as his family had disowned him very obviously. Even with his father gone, his mother wasn't one for forgiving. They hadn't been quick enough to take away his inheritance however, as Lucius had died before he could change his will. Making Draco basically the second most wealthy man in all of the Wizarding world; coming next only to Harry Potter himself. But riches weren't going to get rid of his loneliness, so he had worked hard to make himself new friends and create a new image. It all seemed like it was a miss, except for Hermione. She had accepted his new self and they had been known to attend an easy going lunch or two, or discuss books on occasion. It wasn't until he found her sprawled out on her floor that day that her beloved Harry had left that everything became better for him.
It was hard in the beginning, as he'd never really had to care about anyone but himself. With Hermione broken and pregnant however, he had pushed away his own needs and focused solely on her. Which involved a whole lot more than he had thought it would; from late night cravings, to long conversations about why she was definitely a worthy reason for Harry to just get over the fame and live happily, he had been with her wholly. He spent most of his time staying with her and ended up moving out of his mansion on the edge of town and taking up on her couch so he could be there for her in the last few months of her pregnancy.
During the time that he was taking care of her, he found Ron was coming around to make sure she was okay. However, he was battling his own case of abandonment and Draco often found him drunk off Firewhiskey. Finding that wasn't what Hermione needed, he took care in making sure Ron was always sober in Hermione's presence. After the few couple months of finding Ron in this state, coming by to see how his best friend was doing and muttering about best mates who were real bastards, Draco finally decided that one of the heroes of the Wizarding world should not be living like this. He apparated over to Ron's house at three in the afternoon, finding the ginger-haired Weasley slurring and blearily glaring at him from the couch. He remembered the day with a sad fondness.
"Wha're you doin' 'ere?" Ron asked, trying his best to get off the couch he was slumping on, a thick growth settling over his jaw from lack of shaving.
"I'm," he replied, rather condescendingly because he hadn't learned to get it out of his voice yet, "giving you another chance at life."
"Wha?" the boy wondered, managing to get himself up and keeping himself there by leaning against the brown couch.
"Look, Weasley," Draco said, walking into the kitchen and pulling out every bottle of alcohol he could find, which was a considerate amount. "Potter's gone, I get it. Believe me, I do. I've spent months consoling Hermione and keeping you from upsetting her more-"
"I'd never hurt Mione," he replied, indignantly. "I'm not the one who jus' lef'. I still come by t'see her. T'make sure she's okay now tha' she's havin' a baby," he reminded, shaking his head. "I care about her, she's my best mate! I w'never leave her behind because of some stupid soddin' problem with the media!" he spat.
"Mhmm," Draco said, cocking his brow. "All right, I want you to tell me exactly how long it's been since you've been sober of your own accord."
Ron glared at him, but seemed to appease him as he picked his hand up and started counting off of it. Five minutes later, and a lot of confused looks on Ron's part, Draco shook his head with an annoyed huff.
"Look at yourself," he half-shouted. "You bloody well helped save the Wizarding world and now you're living an angry existence consisting of muttering, drinking, and pissy shouting."
"I hav' no'," Ron replied, swaying on his feet.
"When was the last time you spoke to your mum?" Draco asked, unscrewing a bottle of Firewhiskey.
"Not long ago," Ron told him, making a triumphant face.
"Really? Because her last letter to Hermione stated that she hadn't seen you in seven weeks," Draco told him, taking a sip from the bottle simply because he knew that it was going to be a long day, before he dumped the rest of the contents down the sink.
"Eh!" Ron shouted, working his way forward. "Tha's mine!" he exclaimed, reaching out but missing by at least five feet.
Rolling his eyes, Draco emptied the bottle before walking over and pushing Ron back into a chair. "Sit down and shut up," he told him.
Walking back to the sink, he continued to pour out another bottle of some muggle alcohol he didn't recognize. "He's been gone for a couple months now and you're not getting any better. He's a prat, he left, you're pissed. It's all very simple," Draco told him, shrugging. "With Hermione, I give her a much more subdued speech, because she tends to be emotional and she needs more of a kind heart, rather than a swift kick in the arse," he said, nodding.
"I don'-"
"Shut up," Draco interrupted. "I'm not done." Sighing, he threw the empty bottle into the sink next to the one he had emptied it in and picked up another. "I get that you're angry; you've been friends for seven years, you've followed him into more adventures that could get you killed than any of you can remember, and he just leaves with some stupid letter about how he needs space and understanding."
Ron snorted, leaning back in the chair with his blood shot, dark marked eyes half-closed due to being a whole lot more than just three sheets to the wind.
"And it probably hurts," he admitted. "I know I'd be more than a little upset if my best mate up and ditched like that," he said, knowing he sounded nowhere near as heartfelt as he did with Hermione. "But, for bloody sakes Weasley, you're better than this. Look at what you've still got," he reminded. "Your whole family is alive; you should be thanking Merlin for that one. You've got the Lovegood girl, who apparently completely in love with you. And despite the fact that one of your best friends has up and disappeared, you've still got one here."
Shaking his head, he tossed another empty and picked up a half full clear liquid. "And yeah, she is unbelievably emotional, moody, and can probably eat more than you, but she's still here and she needs her best mate."
Sighing, he looked up at the quiet man across from her. "She's having a baby, Weasley. His baby. So if you don't want to be there for her, or if you're going to be pissed at him, at least know that there's a little baby on the way and I bet it'd love to have an uncle." His face hardened then. "But that uncle has to be sober, because there's no soddin' way, I'm letting a drunk, angry man near that kid. Do you get me, Weasley?"
Nodding, Ron lifted his hand to scratch at his chin, shaking his head. It was still obvious that he was drunk, but Draco could tell his words had made some impact by the way Ron's head was being held up now, as if he had realized what state he was in and was now trying to fix it partially. His shoulders were still slumped, his legs sat open wide, mostly for stability in his chair it appeared. His long arms hung down against the inside of his legs, his fingers fiddling with each other.
"I- I don't want to be like this," he told him, quietly, glancing up momentarily. "I really want to be there for the little tyke, I just can't..." Shaking his head, he sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his eyes. He inhaled shakily, letting Draco know that Ron's emotions were breaking through the haze of alcohol.
Meanwhile, a bit uncomfortable but firm on his stance to help the Weasley kid out, Draco continued pouring the alcohol away and waited for the boy who used to lash out angrily at him to pull himself together.
"Over seven years," Ron said, his fingers yanking at his shaggy red hair. "And he can't tell me face to face that he's going to just piss off on all of us?" he asked, not expecting an answer but his tone left it open just in case Draco had any wise, calming words.
"I can't tell you what he was thinking, or that there was a legitimate reason," Draco told him, honestly. "I'm pissed at him and I wasn't even his friend."
"Yeah, well that's 'cause you're takin' up where he's left off," Ron reminded, lifting his face slightly. "While he's off somewhere in the world, probably in some bloody mansion being waited on hand and foot, you, of all people, are the person whose helpin' Mione through her pregnancy," he said, with an ironic laugh.
Draco could understand the irony of the situation quite well. Here he was playing house with Hermione Granger, insufferable know-it-all, and the bane of his Hogwarts career when it concerned grades. She and he had traded more spiteful conversations than perhaps they had with any other person they'd ever known. Here he was taking care of a girl he had called mudblood for almost half of his life. And to add spice, he was now standing in the kitchen of his other enemy, emptying every bottle of Firewhiskey and muggle alcohol he could find, to not just save his life and make it better, but to make sure that Ron Weasley would be there for his best friend's child; even though it was his archenemy's.
Ron's laughter died away however, replaced again by his endless anger. "I risked my life for him, at least once a year while I was his friend," he said, more to himself than Draco, staring at one spot on the floor with burning eyes. "I was there when everybody else thought he was crazy, thought he was against them. I walked into a bloody huge spider's nest for him!" he exclaimed, climbing out his chair. "I stood on that field and I killed Death Eater after Death Eater, trying to keep his sorry arse safe while he went off to kill Voldemort!" he shouted, his face becoming red. "I was there! I never ran away, like so many others. I never whined when War came. I shut the fuck up, so he wouldn't get worried about what he was destined to do!" he screamed, breathing heavily. "And what do I get?" he asked, stomping into the living room to grab a piece of parchment off the table.
Draco leaned against the counter, his face impassive as he simply let the boy in front of him go on his angry rampage. The second sink was now brimming with colourful empty bottles, with only six more to go, half empty all ready. He sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to leave any time soon. Oddly enough, he actually didn't hate the idea of making sure Weasley got all of his pissed off frustrations out, even if it meant he had to be the one to hear it. This was perhaps the most tame conversation they'd ever had, and weirdly enough it wasn't all that uncomfortable.
Coming back into the kitchen, still a little unsteady on his feet, Weasley waved the wrinkled parchment around; it looked as if it had been crumpled, stomped on, set on fire in places, and magicked back together rather clumsily. Inhaling deeply, he held it in front of his face, squinted a bit, and then began reading.
"Mate," he snickered. "I'm sorry. I know that that's not enough and I know that you're going to be right pissed after you read this. But you've got to understand that I can't do it anymore. I had a run in today, with this girl who's muggleborn and credited her life to me. She wanted an autograph but I was in a hurry to get away, because some reporter or another would undoubtedly be one step behind me. She freaked out when I told her I couldn't, yelling about how I was her savior and she expected more from me. I can't be that guy, Ron. I can't be this perfect hero who walks around with a quill, ready to sign every piece of paper that comes my way. I wanted a normal life; it's what I fought for, what my parents wanted for me. I wanted Hermione, and my friends. I just wanted to live my life, without having to worry about Voldemort.
"You were there; you saw it all. You know that my whole life, all I've ever wanted is a family. I can't have that though. I can't even walk out of my bloody apartment without being hounded. I need to go. I need to get away until this stupid Harry Potter hysteria fades. I will be back though, I promise it. I don't want to be gone long and please know that you're still my best mate and I'm sorry I have to do this. I need this though. I need a break from it all.
"All I ask is that you understand why I'm going, and that you take care of Hermione for me. I'm sorry. -Harry"
"What the bloody hell is that?" Ron yelled, shaking his head. "He put up with the soddin' fame for our entire time at Hogwarts. He put up with the criticism, the belittling, the articles on his sanity, all of it. And now he can't handle one little girl whose star struck. He had to up and leave with nothing but a stupid bloody note." Shaking his head, he ripped it up, dropping it to the ground and stomping on it heartily. "I don't bloody care if he's upset or angry, or whatever. All he had to do was floo over here and tell me, 'Ron, mate, I'm sorry, but I'm takin' a vacation. I'll be back.' But no," he said, drawing out the word. "He has to completely disappear, with no word; no bloody post about when he's coming back!"
Draco was on the last bottle now, holding it leisurely in his hand, listening to Ron rant. His eyes scanned the living room, realizing there could be more around the flat. Dumping the one in his hands, he began walking to the living room, passing a huffing Ron. "Are you sure you're mad that he didn't tell you he was leaving face to face?" Draco asked, glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes. "Or is it that he didn't take you?"
Ron stopped, turning to look at him with a furrowed brow. "What d'you mean?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"Well, think about it," Draco said, motioning for Ron to follow him as he walked out of the kitchen. He began picking up bottles, checking how full they were, finding mostly empties, turned over on their side. "For seven years, he hardly went anywhere without you. You were right there with him, even in the War when he tried to save you and Hermione from being killed by telling you that you didn't have to be part of it." Shrugging, Draco picked up the blue bottle on the table, finding it three quarters full and sniffed it, wrinkling his nose at the pungent smell. "Now, he leaves a note and disappears on you. It's more of a 'What gives?' moment, than an understanding why he's leaving one. You're pissed because he should've taken you with him, rather than just leave you behind. After all, you'd never leave him behind, would you?" he asked, not really expecting an answer as he cleared away the built up garbage on the end tables, finding a couple of empty cans.
"Never," Ron replied, shaking his head. "I would never leave him behind."
"Right," Draco said, venturing into Ron's room to almost trip over the clothes lying around. Grabbing the three bottles off the bedside counters, and the two sitting on the dresser, he left the room and walked to the bathroom, dumping the offending liquid down the bathtub drain. "So you see, you're really pissed because you missed out on something. Because he's left you, instead of taking you along. It's not about understanding his need for peace and quiet, it's more of wondering how he could leave you when you've done nothing wrong."
Nodding, Ron seemed to be sobering up as he leaned against the door frame, running a hand over his face.
Draco stood up, walking back to the kitchen and checking for a garbage bag, finding an unopened box, he pulled one out and shook it open. Putting all of the empty bottles inside, he then started clearing up the garbage on the counters and over the floor. Looking up at Ron, who was staring out the window with a pale face and a furrowed brow, he threw a bag at him. "You can clean the living room," he told him.
Out of Quidditch reflex, Ron caught the bag without even looking but then stared down at it with confusion. Turning back to Draco, he frowned with a cocked brow.
"If you're going to be an uncle," Draco said, standing up with the hefty bag of garbage and bottles, he sighed. "Then you are going to have a clean apartment, sans garbage and Firewhiskey." Nodding, he smiled briefly, which seemed to astonish the boy in front of him.
Instead of fighting with him, which Draco had been expecting and prepared for, Ron simply nodded and left to start cleaning up the living room. They had the apartment up to livable standards a couple hours later, which is when Ron's sobriety started hitting him, winding up with him spending a lot of time in the bathroom, throwing up. Draco let him go through this for two hours before taking pity and fixing him up a potion for the stomach problems and horrible hang over. He figured if Ron knew what he had done to himself from the drinking, then he might not try it to such a state again. He didn't end up leaving until almost three in the morning, after fixing Ron something to eat, just some soup, and helping him walk back to his room.
Groaning, still feeling quite ill, Ron lay on the bed with half closed eyes and a pale, drawn face. "Mal- Draco," he called, just as the Slytherin boy had made to leave the room.
"Yeah," he said, slightly surprised that Weasley had used his first name.
"You know, thanks," he said, nodding. "I guess, I really needed this, you know."
"Sure, anytime," Draco told him, waving slightly. "If you're feeling better, you should stop by Hermione's tomorrow. She's been missing you lately, and I know she'd love to talk about the baby."
"Yeah," Ron said, swallowing and nodding. "I'll try my best to be there."
"Good," Draco said, walking out of the room and apparating to Hermione's apartment to make sure she was comfortable. Finding her sleeping peacefully in her room, he then apparated back to his house, crawling into bed with a rather satisfied smile. He had done good, and it wasn't anything to be ashamed of.
"I don't understand," Hermione cried against his shoulder, shaking her head. Inhaling shakily, she let out another heart wrenching sob. "Last night, after you c-came b-back and you were t-talking about moving on to have a f-family," she said, sniffling. "I finally decided that I was going to move on too, you know?" she asked, pulling back to look up at him. "I kept holding on to h-him. I kept hoping and wishing he'd come back but he n-never did," she said, her tears spilling over again. "And now- now he's here-" Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and buried her face against Draco's shoulder.
"I know," Draco said, holding her tightly.
After all of the years they'd spent together, she was possibly the most important person in his life. And he loved her; not the way she loved Potter. He had never been closer to anyone in his life, though Ron came in quite close. After seven years of being the best of friends, he couldn't say she was like a sister, but he couldn't call her a romantic interest either. She epitomized what he wanted in his future wife, but they were too close as friends to have a romantic relationship. He was her shoulder to cry on, her emotional support through everything. And he was fine with that; it felt good to be needed that way.
For a long time, Molly thought they were together or at least that they should be, but it was well known that they were just incredibly close best friends. There had been a few articles in Wizarding papers that they were together or even that Maggie called him daddy, but that was never the case. Maggie knew who her dad was and while she had an incredibly tight bond with Draco, she knew not to call him that. They had their conversation when she had been confused and he had explained that while he loved her like his own, she wasn't but that her dad was a great and fearless man, which had been hard words to utter.
"I mean," Hermione said, her hands clutching at his shirt. "What does he want?" she wondered. "What does he think now that he knows about Maggie?" Her arms snaked around him, hugging him close. "I don't think I'm ready," she told him, shaking her head. "I don't think I can face him again."
"You don't have to," Draco told her, feeling quite selfish in that moment. He didn't want her to go back to Potter in some ways; he liked the sense of family he had with her and Maggie. Most of all though, he feared what might happen if she got her hopes up and let herself get emotionally involved with Potter again. He had truly wrecked her when he left and she wouldn't be able to get through it again, not even with Draco there to hold her up. After all these years, he had accepted his place as best friend, uncle, god father, but now, as Harry had finally shown his face, he suddenly felt even more protective. As Hermione's best friend and the guy who was there for it all, he knew that whatever was coming, it was going to hurt. "I mean, you don't have to talk to him right away and you don't have to accept what's happened." Shaking his head, he pulled back to look down at her damp face. "You've spent six years mourning for the relationship he left. You have Maggie and you have me and Ron and everybody else. Nobody expects you to get back together with him or to fall in to being the perfect family. This is all up to you, love. You can tell him to piss off, or you can try and work it out. Don't force it; don't do anything you're not ready to."
"How did I get so lucky?" she asked, staring up at him with shining eyes. "By what force did Merlin grant me the chance to have you as my best friend?" she wondered, her eyes searching his. "You've been so incredible to me, Draco. I can't- I can't thank you enough," she told him, nodding.
"You don't have to," Draco assured her, rubbing her back. "Just having you and Magpie in my life is enough." And it was, without them he likely wouldn't have survived in the new Wizarding world. He hadn't had a place until they became part of his life, and now he knew where he was. He was a friend, a godfather, and a part of the Weasley, Lupin, and Granger family.
Sniffling, Hermione nodded, hugging him again. "Do you think... I mean, you don't think it would be horrible if he and I got back together, would it?" she wondered.
Sighing, Draco ran his hand over her hair. "If he plans on staying," he told her, leaning back. "Then I think it would be great for Maggie to have her dad, and for you... I know you've always loved him, Hermione. And I just really don't want you to get hurt," he told her, nodding. "If he's here for good and he's willing to really make up for what's he done, then I'll be happy for you if you get back together."
She smiled at him, nodding as she placed her head against his shoulder. A knock at the door alerted them to Maggie's need to see how her mum was doing. Draco smiled at how she had a very short patience level. "What's the password?" he called out.
"Uncle Draco," she whined, and he chuckled when he heard her stomp her foot.
"You can't come in without it," he told her, smirking.
"Fine," she huffed. "Is it... Quidditch?" she asked, hopefully.
"Nope."
She growled with annoyance and Draco couldn't help but know that she was likely frowning with her bottom lip out. "Is it... Slytherin's rule?" she wondered.
Hermione snorted, sitting up in amusement.
"No, but that is true in my case, isn't it?" he told her, grinning.
Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
"Oh, oh," Maggie said, hopping. "Is it Magpie?" she asked.
Chuckling, Draco nodded even though she couldn't see it. "It is," he replied.
Swinging the door open, the little girl came running across the room, grinning. Hopping on the bed, she sat in front of her mum, reaching out to touch her face. "Are you okay?" she asked, pushing away Hermione's tears.
Smiling, Hermione nodded, pulling her little girl into her lap so that she was leaning back against her. Resting her chin on Maggie's shoulder, Hermione sighed with content. Draco moved so he was lying in front of them, sprawled out across the bed, with his arms behind his head. His eyes were turned to the side while he smirked at how alike they looked, aside from the shade of Maggie's hair and the colour of her eyes.
"Are you staying for dinner?" Maggie asked, staring at her uncle.
"Of course," he replied, nodding. "I can't let your mum burn the kitchen down."
Snorting, Hermione scowled at him but it was obvious she was amused. "We both know I can cook better than you."
"Just because I burned dinner once," he replied, rolling his eyes.
"Draco you burned water," she reminded, shaking her head.
"D'you see what I have to put up with?" Draco asked, staring at Maggie.
Giggling, Maggie looked up at her mum, smiling.
Hermione kissed her forehead, wrapping her arms around the little girl. "She's on my side, I'm afraid," she said, smirking at Draco in triumph.
Sitting up, Draco took hold of Maggie's ankles. "She's always on my side," he told her, pulling the little girl out from Hermione and over to him, before tickling her sides.
Hermione shook her head, crawling over to blow strawberries on Maggie's tummy. Her daughter giggled against the adoring attack of her mum and godfather, squirming in a half-hearted attempt to get away. Hermione hugged her sideways, kissing her all of her face as Maggie laughed, while sitting on her uncle's stomach. A short while later, when Maggie had run out of breath from laughing, she curled up against Hermione's side, hugging her around her waist. Hermione, who had tired herself out from crying, slept peacefully with Maggie.
Standing up, Draco placed a kiss on each of their forehead's, before walking downstairs and locking the door behind him. Sighing, he apparated to the Hotel he knew Ron was staying in while waiting for his big game that weekend. Waiting in the lobby, he asked the woman at the front desk to call up to Ron's room and ask him to meet a friend downstairs. Pacing slightly, Draco was a little worried about how his best mate was going to react to finding out that his ex best friend was back in town.
The two of them had an odd sort of friendship, given how it started. But after awhile, they actually ended up being the closest of mates. Since Draco was very close with the Weasley family, they often called him, 'brother,' instead of by his name. It was a regular form of greeting when in the presence of any of the Weasley sons -except Percy- and Ron was no exception. Of course, Draco actually felt the kinship when it came to Ron, seeing as the two of them had grown to be so close. There wasn't one thing they didn't know about each other, which is why Draco was there. Ron wasn't on the happiest of terms with Harry Potter and even though he had admitted to moving on from the way his ex best friend had royally pissed on him, he wasn't going to be welcoming.
"Draco," Ron said, walking over with a big grin. "Brother, I haven't seen you in too long," he told him, pulling him into a friendly hug.
Years ago, Draco might've squirmed his way out, but after being around the Weasley's for seven years, he was used to it. "Yeah," he told him, nodding. "Just got back into town yesterday," he said, patting Ron's shoulder heartily.
"Brilliant," Ron said, ushering them over to sit in the plush chairs behind them. "So how long are you going to be 'round now? You'll still be there by the time I get back, right?" he asked, worried. "Or is that why you're here? Leaving all ready," he said, disappointed.
"No," Draco told him, shaking his head. "No, I'm back for good," he said, smiling.
"No bloody way," Ron said, shaking his head with a shocked expression. "You're pissin' me!"
Laughing, Draco shook his head. "No, really, I'm back!'
"That's bloody brilliant," he said, jumping up from his chair. "I was jus' talkin' to Luna the other night, and she kept sayin' that you weren't gonna move back because you loved living 'round the world. But I told her, I said you'd move back an' I was right. I can't wait to tell her, she's gonna be right excited. Jazzy is getting older and she's really taken a liking to you. She gets pretty upset when she knows you're not goin' to be 'round much," he rambled.
Nodding, Draco sighed. Maggie was the same way and often had a fit whenever he explained that he had to go away again. He was really planning on staying this time though; no more long months away from his family and friends. "I've gotta flat not far away from Hermione's house. I'll still be an auror but I'll be staying in town," he told him, nodding. "There's been an increase in trouble 'round there anyway, so they're happy to have me back."
"This is great," Ron said, grinning. "We have to go out on the town the minute I get back. Just butterbeer or something, but we'll have a bloody riot!"
Chuckling, Draco nodded, happy to know that Ron was still staying away from alcohol. After his long stint he had sworn it off completely and hadn't touched a drop in nearly six years. He had a falling back on it during the first year, but Draco had been there to pick him back up and help him through it. In fact, his sixth year would be happening the next week, which actually worried Draco, reminding him of his news. "Look, mate, there's a reason that I came by and I'm not sure you're gonna like it."
Ron sobered from his excitement almost immediately, taking his seat again. "What is it?" he wondered, worried. "It's not Luna or Jazzie is it?" he asked, scared. "Mum's not sick again, is she? Bloody hell, what happened?"
"No, no, it doesn't have to do with the family," he told him, shaking his head. Clearing his throat, he ran a hand over his face. "Look, somebody's back and I'm just a little concerned on how you're going to take it."
"If it's Voldemort, I'm concerned," Ron said, chuckling slightly. "Look mate, unless it's the big bad Dark Lord himself, I really don't think I'm going to be that upset." Shaking his head, he shrugged while leaning back. "It's not like Harry's back or anything."
Nervously, Draco turned to him with a frown. "Well..."
To Be Continued...