Henrietta Potter And The Slytherin Child - (A 'Henrietta Potter' sequel) || D.M

47 - Ronald

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this, Potter." Draco grumbled as he shrugged on his jacket.

"I told you, I'll make it up to you later." I said, dashing out of the kitchen, clutching a bottle of wine in my hand.

"Dinner with the Golden Trio," he muttered under his breath as he passed me my coat. "Never did I think I'd ever see the day."

"Aw, is poor ickle Drakie afraid he is going to get picked on?" I teased, playfully squeezing his jaw beneath my fingers.

"YES!"

"Seriously?!" I dropped my hand, laughing in disbelief. "Draco, we are not in Hogwarts anymore. We are all adults and should be able to put the past behind us. Besides," I added slyly, "it was you and me who did most of the bickering, and we seem to be getting on pretty well these days."

"I'm not jumping into bed with Weasley and Granger!" He spluttered, looking mortified.

"I'm not suggesting you do that," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm simply asking for you to have a pleasant, civilised dinner with my two best friends. If you're sticking around in my life, then I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to them."

"Fine," he said grouchily. "But there better be dessert."

"We're going to Ron's," I muttered dryly, "of course there's going to be dessert."

*****

I'd never seen Draco look quite so pale as when we stood on Ron and Hermione's doorstep waiting for them to answer.

He had looked less anxious about the prospect of murdering our headteacher.

Taking pity on him, I gently reached out and squeezed his hand.

"You'll be fine, Draco, you survived Boxing Day with a whole house full of them, didn't you?"

"Barely," he grumbled, breathing heavily through his nose.

The door opened and immediately Draco and I whipped our hands apart. It took me a second to realise we didn't have to hide it. Oh well, old habits and that.

Hermione stood, beaming down at us. I couldn't help but notice she looked a little... apprehensive.

"Come in, come in!" she trilled, her voice sounding unnaturally light as she stood back to allow us through.

"How's Ron doing?" I asked, the underlying message clear: Has he livened the fuck up yet?

"Um- he's.... well, you know, he's Ronald,"

So no, then.

I rolled my eyes, taking my coat off, although I briefly wondered if it was worth it. If Ron was just going to be a fucking mardy git then I wasn't going to stick around.

We followed Hermione into the kitchen where Ron was sat at the already laid table, a bottle of beer in front of him, scowling.

"Ron!" Hermione sang out, "won't you get our guests a drink, please?"

Not taking his glaring eyes away from Draco, Ron scraped his chair back, making a loud screeching sound across the tiled floor.

"What do you want?" he muttered in a most unfriendly tone.

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed.

"I mean," Ron said in a sarcastically light manner, "can I offer you a drink?"

"Wine, please," I gritted through clenched teeth, shooting him a dark look.

"You?" Ron barked at Draco. "I'd offer you a mead, but funnily enough I've gone off that stuff since a certain incident on my seventeenth birthday."

I bristled angrily at the same time as Hermione cried, "Ronald!"

A heavy resigned sigh passed Draco's lips as he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. "A beer would be good, thanks," he muttered dully.

I felt horrifically sorry for him. Especially when Ron started loudly talking about what a great man Dumbledore was ("Must make you feel really proud, knowing Etta named your son after the man whom she looked upon as a father figure. Shame he died.").

Dinner was a strained affair. Draco sat as close to me as possible whilst Ron sat the other side, knocking back the wine like there was no tomorrow.

"So, tell me, Malfoy," Ron glared across the table at Draco, "what does a retired Death Eater do all day long?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Ron!" I spat, throwing down my knife and fork before rising angrily from my chair. I had had enough.

But a hand reached out and fingers curled around my wrist, halting me mid rise.

"It's okay, Etta," Draco said quietly, beckoning for me to sit back down.

Startled, I slowly retook my seat, shooting Ron a fierce glare.

"This means a lot to Etta," Draco said sternly to Ron and Hermione, who both looked as shocked as I felt, "she loves you and she wants us all to get on, so I'm willing to try for Etta's sake, if you will."

"Well, of course," Hermione said immediately, "we want what's best for Etta too, don't we Ronald?!"

Ron shrugged, looking at me across the table sulkily. "I suppose," he grumbled, throwing his head back to drain his glass.

I shot Draco a grateful look, a small smile tugging at my lips. His hand, which was still clasped around my wrist, slipped down to meet my fingers, giving them a comforting squeeze.

"And in answer to your question, Weasley," Draco said, picking up the bottle of wine to refill our glasses. "I spend my time studying alchemical manuscripts. And when I'm not doing that, I have been known to occasionally use my family's vast collection and knowledge of dark artefacts to help the Ministry out when needed."

Oh. Well, this was news to me. Draco had always been vague about he spent his days. I just assumed he bossed around house-elves.

"Hermione! You never told me this!" Ron's eyes bulged out at his wife.

"It's not my job to inform you of each and every person who passes through the Ministry's doors." Hermione bristled haughtily before turning to Draco. "And that's very commendable, Draco. I know that has not been easy for you, given your family's history."

Draco gave a curt nod, lowering his eyes. "It's the least I could do, after... after everything."

"How is your dad, these days?" Ron asked loudly, clearly not being able to help himself.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Draco glared across at Ron as a tiny muscle began to spasm along his jawline. "Not great, Weasley, seeing as he's still in Azkaban."

"Shame, that," Ron muttered, scoffing.

"That's it!" I bellowed, slamming my napkin down onto my plate. "Come on Draco, I'm not sitting around here waiting for him to start bringing our sons into it - which he most certainly will!"

I leapt to my feet and this time, Draco didn't stop me, but instead got up too.

"Etta! Wait!" Hermione called after me as I stormed out the kitchen. "Ron's just drunk!"

"I couldn't give a flying fuck what Ron is, Hermione!" I yelled back. "I'm not staying around to listen to him insult the man I love!"

I grabbed mine and Draco's coats from the hallway.

"Thank you for dinner, Granger," I heard Draco drawl smoothly behind me, "it's been a pleasure."

"Well, Potter," he smirked, shrugging on his coat once he joined me in the hallway. "Thanks for showing me how grown-ups behave at civilised dinner parties."

We could hear Ron and Hermione arguing in the kitchen followed by the unmistakable sound of china breaking.

Draco looked back, concern flitting across his face. "Do you think we should..."

"Nah!" I snapped as I stormed out of the house. "It's probably just Hermione smashing a plate over Ron's head."

*****