Chapter Text
Harry wasn’t exactly sure when it started.
Things looked surprisingly good for him after his divorce from Ginny. His children finally got some closure after all the fighting and crying for years and after both him a Ginny moved out of the house several times and came back just to be reminded again why they didn’t work together.
It had been a big mess but after he’d moved in for good into Ron’s small past-divorce apartment in London (Though the divorce of Harry’s two best friends had been only a fraction as messy as his own, they too had decided that Hermione fit better with someone that was willing to support her in the way she needed it.) he thought things could finally mellow down and he’d at least have some time to figure out what he wanted to do with his life now that his big dream of a life with a family like from a children’s book had train-wrecked in the most epic way.
Living with Ron was easy too.
Not only did he know his friend better than anyone else, Ron hadn’t tried to be a good supportive husband for years to not know every household charm they could ever need and he wouldn’t be Molly Weasley’s child he wouldn’t know how to cook in the way Harry liked it the most.
To be honest Ron’s cooking was much better than Ginny’s who didn’t have the patience to cook for longer than fifteen minutes. Ron was better wife-material than his actual (ex)wife when it came to domestic skills...at least if you bracketed out the physical parts...Harry really didn’t want to think about that. It always made him feel a little queasy. When he mentioned it to Ron once as a joke, the redhead threatened to hex his balls off.
Things still seemed okay when he started to go to pubs more and have some random dates. It was a nice ego boost and Harry felt like he could concentrate better on his job when he didn’t ignore his physical needs completely, like it had been with Ginny for a long time. Maybe it was also the lack of marriage related stress, however he finally managed to secure the head auror’s position he’d be working towards for years after Robard’s retired to enjoy his remaining limbs and his granddaughters growing up.
A few months after his promotion his random dates became meeting Draco Malfoy regularly.
Draco had just lost his wife and was not ready to have a serious anything with anyone and somehow the decidedly non-romantic nature of their relationship was really relaxing.
The attorney’s fantastic qualities in bed almost made up for him being otherwise insufferably boring.
The guy spend his free-time reading financial magazines for fun.
He got his underwear pressed.
He liked Quidditch because of the financial struggle between the different clubs and because he liked being cheered on by hundreds of people. Harry would have even accepted if he’d said he liked it for the hot men on brooms...but Draco genuinely didn’t care about the game itself being fun. Even if he hadn’t been one of history's biggest knobheads in their youth...even if Draco had been a Gryffindor like him, Harry doubted that they’d have been friends in school, seeing how different their interests were.
He wasn’t even sure he liked Draco now. He just liked getting him riled up and then have angry hate-sex.
Harry had never really expected himself to be interested in blokes but it wasn’t a big shock either. Of course he had homosexual fantasies (it was hard not to have them, as a horny teenager sharing a dorm with Dean Thomas) before his unplanned ...uh...thing with Malfoy, but he never really paid them much of a thought. Now it was a welcome change though.
He just somehow slid into it and it seemed much more comfortable than his straight life with Ginny.
It took him about 2 months to muster up his courage to tell his friends that he was bisexual and while Hermione seemed a little surprised though enthusiastically supportive, Ron just nodded and shrugged like he’d known that for years and had just waited for Harry figure it out for himself.
Harry had already outgrown one closet and coming out of the other one wasn’t half as life-changing for him as it might have been for other people.
The Weasleys and his children were okay with it, Ginny wasn’t okay with anything he was doing anyway and the rest of his friends mostly ignored it for the majority of time.
Ron changed though.
The redhead was unusually polite and quiet around him.
He knocked before entering his room and made sure to always be out of the flat when Harry mentioned someone was coming over.
And maybe this was when it started to get weird between them.
Ron had never been very considerate towards Harry.
He knew Harry needed his blunt honesty much more than politeness. The mutual respect build on decades of friendship and willingness to give your life for the other didn’t need superficial pleasantry.
It was odd.
It definitively was getting weird, when on Sunday morning Harry stepped into the kitchen to find Draco and Ron sitting on opposite ends of the breakfast table. Both looked up from their respective newspaper when they heard him and the air was so cold it could almost cut you like ice.
Harry had conveniently kept the relationship with Draco to himself, knowing that both Hermione and Ron would be not too pleased about the arrangement.
Turned out he was Ron.
Ron was furious.
But he wasn’t going to give Malfoy the satisfaction to see him getting angry. Draco on the other side...was probably just still here for the entertainment. Harry could see the thinly veiled amusement twinkling behind his grey eyes and it made him want to bash his blond head against a wall.
“It would have been nice...” said Ron in a dangerously gentle way “...if you told me when you were having guests over, Harry.” he folded his newspaper and bared his teeth in a gesture that almost resembled a smile.
“I’m sorry, Ron. It was really spontaneous. I didn’t feel like I was fit to apparate tonight so my place was closer.” this was obviously the wrong answer because Ron lifted on eyebrow, a gesture he’d clearly acquired from his marriage with Hermione, and pursed his lips visible trying to get a reign on his temper.
Harry padded closer and it felt oddly vulnerable to be barefoot in this situation. “Ron...please...” his friend came so abruptly to his feet that the chair slammed backwards against the heater with a loud bang towering over both Draco and Harry in all his almost 2 meters of boiling anger.
Draco chuckled and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest and grinning broadly into Ron’s red face. The guy obviously greatly enjoyed the show and had less self-preservation instinct than a dead fish.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist Weasley...I’m sure he’ll be good to you too if you’d just ask nicely...you’re used to getting hand-me-downs from your siblings after all...”
So...Draco called Ron's best friend a slut, Ron a fairy thus insulting his masculinity, made fun of his big family especially his baby sister and of the fact that they used to be very poor. It must be a special talent to push all of Ron’s buttons at the same time.
Ron blinked at the blond man for a moment and Harry instinctively summoned his wand from his room.
“Draco, I think it would be in your best interest if you’d leave now.” he muttered not quite pointing the wand at the man but keeping it visible enough to be a silent threat. “It’s not the smartest move for someone like you to insult an auror in his own home.”
“Shut up, Harry.” hissed Ron curtly and blindly grabbed his chair to sit down again. Harry saw the way Ron moved like big cat waiting to jump on his prey. Like he was in the mood to play with it. “Let the inbred boy eat with us. He probably is all alone now that his Mummy and wife died and his Daddy is in Azkaban and his inbred lonely child is off to school.” there was a coldness in his voice that Harry’d only very rarely heard at work.
Malfoy pulled his wand out and pointed it at Ron’s chest which made Harry lift his own wand towards Draco’s temple.
“Don’t you dare to speak about my family like that...” croaked the blond. “Don’t call me that, Weasley, I warn you, I’m gonna...”
Ron’s icy laugh disrupted him.
Uuuh...I’m shaking...what you gonna do, ferret? Not much you can do about your sad life, sorry sweetheart...”
Hermione once said, that Draco was a bit like a very small dog in that he was more bark than bite. He liked to talk loud but he wasn’t actually the type who’d go for a serious conflict...it was just that he sometimes forgot that he was a small little dog because he was able to spook people when he barked loud enough.
Ron...wasn’t like that.
As a true auror and with the skills of a small brother who had to compete with much stronger and more experienced older siblings for his transformativ years...Ron went for what hurt his opponent the most. Without any remorse he went for Draco’s emotional balls so to speak.
“Trying to hurt me by making fun of my big family, huh? Does it make you feel better? At least my Mum didn’t lose all your siblings in childbed because they were too inbred to survive. You would have loved to have a few siblings to play with back then didn’t ya? Like the one your Mum was pregnant with during our third year? Aww...poor little inbred ferret...the only survivor...My wife didn’t lose any kids...my children don’t bear a blood disease that can kill them at any time...aww, poor little Draco all alone… wanna talk about why your wife died again? Too much incest in her blood?”
Malfoy was through the floo before Ron had finished his last sentence.
Ron’s cold laugh cut like a knife.
It was scary. Usually Ron’s anger was hot and loud and quickly over. He got angry because he cared too much and erupted like a volcano and afterwards they both pretended it didn’t happen because they both sucked at apologising. Harry had rarely seen him angry without caring for the receiving end of his fury. Even culprits at work or even Malfoy in their youth didn’t get subjected with this kind of cold, passionless anger.
They tried the usual and pretend it didn’t happen. Harry was sure Ron assumed that the thing with Malfoy was a one-time thing and he really didn’t want to ever see him like this again so he would rather eat a flubberworm than tell him it was regular thing.
Not that he actually really understood what this thing was anyway.
Draco didn’t contact Harry for a few weeks until they finally ended up in bed together again. They didn’t talk much… the little small-talk they had up to this point was replaced with sex...Harry left Draco’s house right after they did it and made sure to be quiet so Ron didn’t hear him returning at night.
It came out by accident though. Seamus had seen him stepping out of the door of Malfoy Manor and harmlessly asked him about it the next time they met with the boys at the Leaky Cauldron.
Harry could feel Ron growing dangerously still beside him and closed his eyes to brace himself for the inevitable.
“You are still seeing the ferret?” Ron spat putting his glass down with more force than needed leaving puddles of beer on the scarred wood of the pub table.
“Ron...” Harry tried but was disrupted by Neville who looked oddly scandalised.
“I thought you and Ron...how could you… Malfoy of all people...”
“Neville...it’s not like that… it’s not like we’re are dating or something… it’s just sex, mate...”
With a slam of the door Ron was gone. A couple of sickles were left behind to pay for the beer.
He wasn’t at home when Harry returned a few hours later.
Harry checked.
It was the first time in months he was in there. Since Ron decided to politely knock on his door Harry felt like it wasn’t his place to enter the other man’s bedroom.
It was unusually messy. Ron had so much things. He liked collecting all kinds of stuff. Quidditch merchandise, cards, comics and (since the marriage with Hermione) books so it was normal to see the room brimming over with things. Ron was usually really proud of everything having it’s place and being very well-organised though.
It wasn’t like Ron to let his room become so chaotic.
In fact, though Harry had heard him several times over the weekend Ron had managed to avoid him ‘til Monday afternoon when he suddenly appeared in his office.
There was an air of finality around him as he rounded the desk and sat on the edge of the tabletop looking down on Harry.
“Remember when you promised me that Ginny was the right one to make you happy for the rest of your life, Harry? When you begged me to take that stupid memory vial so you wouldn’t be tempted again? No? Well. I remember and I don’t want it any more.” With distinct clunk a small flask was sat down on the table next to Harry’s tower of used tea cups.
“You promised me that the life with Ginny was what you wanted, Harry. You didn’t keep it. You gave me this...shit and it wasn’t worth it...”
Ron had turned his face away and Harry almost suspected he was crying. “I took you into my apartment and defended you against my brothers and made sure you had a place to regroup and be safe...and you tell me you’re into blokes like it’s some kind of bloody new discovery.” Harry wanted to touch him, do something to stop Ron from shuddering under all that emotion but something kept him glued to his chair.
“I tried so hard, Harry.” Ron pressed out his whole body convulsing under the emotion. “I tried to be a good f...friend. I tried to be so bloody supportive...and you fuck Malfoy while I’m sleeping just on the other side of that wall. Not only that, you didn’t even feel like you needed to inform me...that I deserved to get perhaps a little warning instead of having him insult me, you and my whole family at the breakfast table.”
Finally Harry remembered how his hands worked and he gripped Ron at the sleeve to get his attention.
“I’m not gonna do this for another romantic pipe dream of yours again. I’m not going to watch you hurt yourself again.”
Ron turned around to look at him and his eyes dry.
“Does Malfoy make you happy, Harry? Do you promise me that this is what you want?”
“Ron...I don’t want to marry him, I just like...”
“I don’t care.”
Which in fact was a bloody huge fuck of a lie. Ron obviously cared quite a lot. Though Harry still didn’t really understood why.
“I don’t get why you’re so angry...yes it’s Malfoy...but it’s not like he’s doing anything wrong...I mean except of insulting people...” Harry knitted his eyebrows together and stared on his hands.
“Why you care so much about this...it doesn’t even concern you!”
“Is this what you want, Harry?”
“Yes, Ron!” Harry could help but role eyes...his best mate always had a flair for drama. “He didn’t force me or something this is completely consensual, trust me.”
Ron took the memory vial and Harry for a short moment thought he should probably try to find out was this was about, but he forgot about it just as quickly as Ron stood up. Like Harry’s last sentence was what had brought some kind of decision. He nodded decidedly and made his way to the door of Harry’s office.
“I...you know I’ll always be your friend, Harry? You can...you can count on me when things go south even if I’m not around.”
Ron said, the hand already on the door handle and it sounded like a farewell.
“I promised after all.”
The next day Harry received a letter of resignation from Ron and a letter from the Department for International Magic Defence informing him that his friend was joining the British InterWiz team in Porto.
Crinkle, the head of the department, had tried to recruit Ron for years and the redhead had always refused, saying that his family and the aurors still needed him.
Harry wasn’t sure if he really was okay with Ron thinking that he didn’t need him any more.
Ron had taken a day off probably to talk with his family, especially his children and mother, about the sudden change of location. Harry felt like throwing up when he thought of not having the good influence of Ron around the department any more.
When he came home, the flat was so quiet he was sure Ron wasn’t home.
Harry had brought some take-away from the kebab store down the street and started to eat after taking a shower.
Rain was thundering heavy against the windows and the food felt like cardboard against the roof of his mouth.
Following a whim he put down the barely-touched meal on the coffee table and padded towards Ron’s room.
His friend’s old Hogwarts trunk was standing prominently in the middle of the room, which showed last traces of a hasty packing.
Quietly Harry tiptoed through the door and sat down on the bed.
It wasn’t the first time a Weasley packed the bags on him. This one hurt much more than when his ex-wife had done it though.
It was probably the first time in years that he cried.
He didn’t know where he’d gone wrong and why everything had grown weird, but Ron was leaving and Harry wasn’t sure he’d survive that.