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Hood, Marian, and the Frustrated Ronald

Summary:

Stealing from the Metropolitan Art Museum? A little insight into a confused Ronald, two fake-married art-stealing husbands, and Ron's assistant who is just so...

Notes:

Ah! Yet another DDD Challenge! For this month, our prompt was given by the lovely elise!
Prompt: "I'm not sorry"
Word count: 369

Please click the tag for the DDD Challenge or find it in Tumblr to see the wonderful drabbles by the amazing writers whk participated!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

There are a lot of things Inspector Ron Weasley doesn’t understand.

“Ron? They’re here.”

He glanced at his handsomely smiling assistant, and frowned. The shivers from Blaise’s smile was a thing Ron couldn’t understand, but he had other more pressing matters than contemplate that.

 

The man sitting in Interrogation Room One sat languidly, and his silver eyes flicked up to look at Ron as he entered.

“Draco Malfoy.” Ron was the only one who can recognise him here, even with the long, black hair and beauty mark. He sat down on the chair opposite, crossing his arms, “Stealing from the Metropolitan Museum of Art? Classic. Are we taking back a poor man’s forged painting now?”

Malfoy smirked, “I don’t know this Mallory fella.”

A heavy Brooklyn accent, and his pursed lips and rolling o’s made Ron sigh.

“Don’t you regret it?"

“If it’s a confession ya want, ya ain’t getting one from me. I didn’t do shit!”

Ron glared at him, “I meant, don’t you regret fake-marrying my best friend and risking his freedom for this Robin Hood crusade of yours?”

Malfoy smiled.

Seeing as he won’t get anything more, Ron left the room. His eyes darted to the next one, to the empty hallway, and stepped inside.

A bald man with a full beard sat alone in Room Two, sporting the same cuffs Malfoy had. He looked up, and his gaze lingered.

Ron swallowed and lowered his voice, “I can’t get you out every time, Harry. Please confess.”

The man merely stared, his expression clouded into this confusion that seemed as fake as his moustache. “Where’s my husband?”

It was a blanketed question. And what about Malfoy?

“I don’t know.”

“Then we have nothing to talk about. I want my husband safe.”

“What do you even see in him, mate?”

Harry smiled.

The door opened behind him, and Ron turned to see Blaise stepping in with the Malfoy-Potter lawyer and a smug Malfoy in tow. They gravitated toward each other and kissed softly. When Malfoy spoke, the accent was gone.

“About that question you asked? I really am not.” Malfoy grinned at Ron, and, finally, he understood something, “I’m not sorry at all.”

Ron sighed.

They're in love.

 

Notes:

I've been having thoughts on writing this AU properly... but maybe after Drizzle and Food Fair lol