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The first time Ron and Draco kiss, it’s in the middle of an argument because no matter that they’re both sleeping with the same women, they still hate each other’s guts. Neither one of them is quite sure how it happens. One minute, they’re snarling about bloodlines (Ron’s angry that Scorpius is the only named Malfoy heir, Draco’s pissed off that Ron doesn’t want to accept the inheritances he set up for the rest of their children) and then the next, they’re kissing almost like biting and they can’t stop touching each other and they’re hard.
The moment they realize that, it’s over and they’re back to hating each other except now it’s colored with embarrassment and shame. They avoid each other for weeks and generally cause trouble to the women in their lives.
Hermione thinks it’s all very silly, but no amount of getting involved would fix anything so she doesn’t.
And then the worst happens and no one gets the news to Draco until it’s all over, and then the first thing the auror tells him is, “There’s been an attack and there are injuries.”
Draco doesn’t wait to hear how it came down, not with the panic that suddenly streaks through him. He apparates home, throws open the door, and strides right into the middle of the living room. Molly squawks with surprise, startling the sleeping baby Hugo in her arms into howling, and Ginny takes one look at him before she asks, “What happened?”
He says nothing, too busy making sure she’s alive and whole and doing a headcount of the children. He finds only James and the cousins and Teddy and Hugo, and then he’s gone to the ministry. Hermione isn’t in her office and neither is Ron nor Harry.
He hits the hospital next and the nurse at the front desk stares at him as he snarls at her for news of his family, like she can’t even understand him. He swears he’ll have her sacked. He wants to tear her apart with his bare hands because he needs to know, he needs to see, where the hell is his family, he will burn this place to the ground if he has to, do not test him-
“Draco!”
He jerks up because that voice, that’s one of his, and then Hermione’s hugging him tight. Something unwinds inside him, just a little, because she’s alive and whole and she’s okay and she lets him push her back so he can visually check her over. Then she grabs his hand and leads him, and he only lets her do it because… Because.
If it’s not Hermione, it could be Harry, it could be Ron, it could be one of the three kids he didn’t see at home and-
Harry’s standing next to the hospital bed and still isn’t as tall as Ron is sitting up on it. The moment the door opens, three tiny bodies hit Draco’s legs and the kids, the babies barely all walking, they’re okay, and he pets a hand through Rose’s soft red curls and Albus’ messy black and Scorpius’s thin blond and there’s a scrape on Rose’s forehead and Albus’ hands are covered in band-aids and Scorpius looks like he’s developing a black eye but they’re okay. They’re okay and Draco is going to track down the bastards that roughed them up, take them out like the dogs they are-
“Stop making that face, it wasn’t serious,” Ron blurts out and Draco glares at him. Ron’s pants are a mess and he can spot blood spatter even though Ron seems mostly whole except for the bandages wrapped around his chest and one shoulder which means non-serious wound, closed but let to heal naturally, and big. And Ron is scowling like he doesn’t see what the big deal is. Draco could punch him.
What he actually wants to do is run his hands over Ron’s entire body, cataloguing the hurts, making sure he’s really okay. He doesn’t because Ron would never accept that from him and besides, he doesn’t really want to do that. It’s Ron. They only bother with each other because of the girls and the children.
“Did you insult some poor woman’s weight?” he says instead and Ron rolls his eyes and they spend ten minutes sniping at each other as Hermione and Harry herd the kids off back home. They’re still arguing by the time the medi-witch releases Ron to leave. Draco insists on side-apparating him, muttering about a lack in Ron’s judgment, and Ron lets him even as he snarls back that he’s fine, you absolute bastard. Then Draco lets go because Molly is still at the house and she takes over the fretting and nagging and general worry.
Draco should return to his meeting - the goblins are probably completely pissed that he just walked out on negotiations - but he doesn’t. He stays there to watch Molly order Ron to relax once she’s checked over the wounds herself and gotten him into fresh clothing and Ginny lowers herself carefully to sit next to him. She leans against his side, her head on his shoulder, and Draco rests his cheek to her hair as his arm drops around her. She’s angled just right that the round distension of her belly rests against his hip and she rests her hand on his thigh, her thumb rubbing calming circles against it. Draco feels himself starting to finally calm down.
The triplets recount the story in varying degrees of clarity to the other children. James and Fred pepper them with questions about the fight and Roxanne cheers when Scorpius explains how Ron fought off dozens of bad guys with explosive hand gestures. It sounds a lot more farfetched than Draco can believe but when Ron is asked for corroboration, he adds in dragons and fire and mayhem and then Rose is boasting that she road one and made it belch fire at the army of evil doers. There’s a tense but genuine smile on Ron’s face as the story gets even wilder the longer Rose and Scorpius and Albus tell it.
Teddy does not look amused. He’s kept quiet, listening to the others, but his hair has gone through four different colors and he looks like he tasted something awful. Draco sighs a little. Teddy’s not quite Hogwarts age but he’s old enough to understand this was actually dangerous. Andromeda’s going to blame him if Teddy has nightmares, he just knows it.
It’s not difficult to piece together what happened and Draco is rather sure of the why. The who is more of what he’s concerned with. The Dark Lord might be gone and most of his still living cadre incarcerated, but there were still plenty of people that would want to take a pot shot at Harry Potter’s children and lovers. And Draco himself has several rivals that wouldn’t think anything of attacking, either. He doesn’t like this. Not a bit.
It takes forever to calm the children down enough to sleep. They’re not surprised when Albus ends up demanding to sleep with James and then Rose and Scorpius refuse to be bedded down apart, hands tightly held, and Hugo is fussy and combative, but eventually they’re all settled and out into dreamland. And then it’s time for the adults to head off to their own beds.
Draco lingers, not quite ready to leave them, but he has no excuse for staying. The house is warded tight; it’s not as if someone could come after Ron and the kids again, not without alerting them. They’re safe. They’re fine. He has nothing to worry about- and he’s not really worried about Ron at all. He really isn’t. He ends up staying out on the couch and though he doesn’t mean to, he sleeps.
It’s still dark when a sound startles him awake. He sits up from his slump, frowning into the darkness. Something moving- He relaxes about the same time the other person stops short.
“What are you still doing here?” Ron asks, his voice low to keep from waking anyone. Draco tries not to feel offended.
“It was late. I didn’t feel like journeying home.”
“What’s wrong, don’t have the juice for it?”
Draco rolls his eyes and gets up. “If you have such a problem with it, I’ll go now. You don’t have to be such a child.”
There’s no answer and Draco can’t see him well enough to make out his expression. Well. That settles it. He rolls his shoulders to loosen them. It’s not as if he’ll startle anyone going home this late. There’s no one to bother.
“Wait.”
Draco stops mid step. He turns back even though he can’t see Ron well. “What is it?”
“They’re fine,” Ron says and there is a softer tone to it that he doesn’t use with Draco, that makes his chest ache for something he’s not willing to think about. “The kids. They’re fine. You don’t have to worry about them.”
“I know that,” Draco snaps and it’s harsher than he meant.
“I’m saying they’re safe. Here or out with me or Harry or Hermione or Ginny. And something like this might happen again but you don’t need to turn yourself in knots worrying about them-”
“It’s not just them, you idiot!”
They’re silent and it takes Draco a moment to realize he said that aloud. It is far closer to blurting his feelings out than he wants, than he’s ever wanted, and he hates the break in control. He turns to the door but can’t make himself go. Not yet.
“Draco?” Ron asks tentatively and he’s closer. “Not going soft on me, are you?”
Draco doesn’t know what Ron’s looking for. He’s irritated and tired and strained and that bastard has the gall to-
“It would never happen,” he sneers out and then he leaves because the alternative is something he can’t accept and that Ron doesn’t want.
He tries not to think about how empty the manor feels.