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Late Facts	By : lunarbow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Lucius/Ron Views: 5914 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: My name is not JK Rowling and thus I do not own Harry Potter and so I earn nothing with this little thingy.

Chapter List
- 1-Late Facts
- 1
Title: Late Facts

Complete!

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: LM / RW

Warnings: Oneshot, dark(ish), romance?, BTEM (still in need of a Beta!)

Rating: PG (?)

Disclaimer: Not mine, JKR owns the figures. I just borrow them for a short time.

Story: There is something that Ron had kept secret for years from his friends and family, and it takes a court case to bring it to light.

Pic: And there is a pic for this fanfic, too. Look at my profil and link to lj.

There are also german versions of my stories. Again, just look at my profil and link to lj.

~**~

The room was lit in a dimly light that fit well with the mood of those present, and only the oval seat in the middle and the high places of the judges were lightended, though not fully occupied. The rows of the audience were almost empty. For weeks only the hard core of the press was left, and that hoped that the Wizengamot would finally announce the verdict so that they could stop this farce of a trial. For the result could be nothing but prison, for life, couldn't it?

Two decorated doors in opposing stone walls were opened at the same time and slowly while the wizard chairman judge slid to his seat and the defendant was let to his place diagonally behind the survey chair, quietly words were mumbled through the ranks of the reporters, "Hey, you heard? Today the youngest Weasley will speak. He'll provide us with some humor. "

"Well, at least something. So today no premature death by boredom ..."

"I've heard he attacked a judge at Potters trial."

"That's understandable! What they wanted to saddle Potter with."

"Hey Sigi, weren't you there?"

"Yes! You should've seen it! He–"

A loud knock that seemed to come from everywhere, interrupted the talk in the ranks and immediately all eyes turned to the chairman of the Wizengamots. Well, not quite all. The accused with iron chains on hands and feet, stared at the stone plates before him. The blonde hair fell slightly stringy over shoulders and head, his elbows propped on his knees, he sat, watched by an Auror to his left, on just as cold stone slabs, which served as a bank, as the ones under his almost naked feet. He doesn't listen to the introduction of the Chairman now for weeks. He knew the charges against him by heart now and a few were even for him new at the opening hearing.

His son was in the bottom row, hair and dress were perfect. He had been very relieved when he had learned that Draco was acquitted of all charges - even if only through the testimony of Potter and Dumbledore's will.

Another loud knock. The witness today would be called at any moment.

Lucius Malfoy was only too aware of who was behind the door, which would be opened at once. He knew it, felt his presence in every cell since that day almost four years ago in Hogsmeade.

He tried to ignore the tingling in his fingertips like always.

~ oOo ~

Ron had to constantly wipe his hands on his robe. Not because they were damp with nervousness – a little spell of Hermione had helped with that, since he didn't want the veritaserum to slip from his hands. And it would certainly come to him having to drink it. He wanted to drink it.

No, not wet. He only tried to drive away the tingling. The tingling that, the closer they were, increased, welled in the tips of his fingers, spread over palms, wandered in shivers over his back.

The tingling that he really shouldn't have.

The book hadn't said anything about shivers or tingling fingertips. As much as he leafed through and read it, he had no explanation for it.

But research has never been his strength and he had to accept more or less that he had done a sloppy job with the spell. Again.

Again he ran his hands over his robe. It was new. Out of a strange impulse, that grew out of a sense of inferiority, his mother had decided that Ron couldn't step in front of Malfoy in an old robe. The point – that Mr. Malfoy himself would certainly not wear his best robe as Hermione had noted hesistatingly – had made Mrs. Weasley stop only shortly. A moment later, Ron had found himself knee-deep in a pile of new robes, while his mother was walking through the ranks of the store and brought him new clothes constantly.

Ron had to smile slightly as he remembered how nervously she had plucked at his clothes this morning.

This emotion passed rather quickly when he called to mind that his mother and Hermione were waiting behind the door, too.

They had noticed it.

Of course, they'd noticed it.

How could they not notice that, the closer the day came when he had to speak before the Wizengamot, Ron was getting more and more nervous. They thought they were doing him a favor if they gave him quiet support from the rows of the audience. They probably thought that he'll have another fit like the one he had during Harry's trial.

How surprised they'll be.

Ron was just glad that Harry couldn't come. Althought that was actually quite unimportant, because he'll learn about it anyway. Surely tomorrow it'll all be in the papers. Ron could already see the title before his eyes. How they'll denounce him, insult him.

He knew.

But even that didn't matter.

He had lain awake all night and thought about all this. He had considered what he would say, how he would act. Even well after midnight he had gone up and down on thick socks in his room and had doubted whether he was doing the right thing. The new day had found him at the window, thinking of that long-ago day.

This time Ron stroke mindfully over the robe to smooth all wrinkles, imagined or real, pated his pocket with his reduced chest and breathed deeply in and out. Then the door swung already inward and Ron steped into the courtroom with a head held high and restlessly quivering fingertips.

With a few strides he was beside the accused and tried not to react on the deplorable condition of Mr. Malfoy's clothes, whom he could catch out of the corner of his eye. A few steps further and he was standing right next to the interrogation seat.

"Please sit down, Mr. Weasley," said the chairman with a fatherly voice, and pointed to the chair.

Ron didn't have to look to know who else was present. Someone from the press was always there. If his father was accused Malfoy Jr. wasn't far. And of course his mother and Hermione. Relatives of witnesses and defendants were allowed to be here. Curious person with enough influence to get into the courtroom were never missing. A few judges and clerks were sitting in the rows before him, and he could see their fatigue. For months on end only Death Eater cases were heard in a high speed. The Ministry wanted to know all the bad guys behind bars as soon as possible and pretend having an ideal world for his constituents.

When Ron was sitting, the chairman said to the writers: "For the record: witness is Ronald Bilius Weasley. The witness has received no Veritaserum."

'Not yet', twitched briefly by Ron's mind, but before he could indulge that thought any longer, the chairman has turned directly to Ron with the request that he had feared and longed for.

"Mr. Weasley, please give us your full name, birthday and relationship to the accused. Don't worry, this is just for the record. You know the drill." A little twinkle followed these words.

But Ron only swallowed, unfolded his raked together fingers and put his forearms on the arms slowly. He had to force himself to do it slowly.

He heard from somewhere in the twilight of the rows a cough.

His fingertips were still tingling.

Ron was breathing in and focused solely on the left eye of the chairman. Fine lines had formed around it, a neatly trimmed gray eyebrow arched slightly above it, but he wasn't yet able to determined the color. Everything else he wanted to fade out, everything else blurred.

It was roaring in his ears.

Ron opened his mouth to say the sentence he had told himself for weeks.

"My name is Ronald Bilius Weasley. I was born on March the first 1980 and I" (he had to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry, the eye before him didn't even twitch) I am the fiance of the accused Lucius Malfoy."

It was quiet. Ron swallowed again. He was sure that Lucius was staring at him. Just like the whole room was staring at him now.

He exhaled slowly and lenghtly. He had imagined it to be easier. He had thought that they would all be very excited and yell at him and then he would have been sitting quietly in his seat and tell them confidently the whole story and Lucius would only nod.

He had not anticipated this silence.

It pressed against his outward calm.

Ron was still staring at the left eye of the judge and almost didn't hear the question, the only reason he took note, was because the eye narrowed slightly.

He was startled briefly and without intending it, his eyes darted over the Wizards in front of him. Surprise, he saw, half-raised feathers and open mouths. His eyes almost moved on to the audience, to his mother and Hermione, but the repeated question of the chairman tore him from the sight. He forced himself to concentrate again on the eye, because this way he saw nothing else. But that was difficult with his fluttering breath and heart pounding in his chest. In the same beat as his heart his eyes wanted to catch the reactions. He wanted to turn to his mother and Hermione.

He wanted to turn to Lucius.

"Y-yes, Mr. Chairman. I know, well," Ron began at first quiet and stammering and then it gushed out, he wanted to say everything, before they forbid him to speak he had to say everything, "I don't lie, Mr. Chairman. I know that perjury is a criminal offense and I'm not under Imperius or any other spell or something like that and you have to believe me because I'm really his fiance and the story is very complicated, but not long, but please allow me to tell it and since you probably don't believe me, even if everything is true, but I understand it, it's really a bit strange, but ... Maybe I should take Veritaserum?"

OK. It was not at all the speech how Ron had imagined it, but ok. And at least he had come to the wish of Veritaserum.

Now he just had to get his breathing under control. He felt as if he'd ran ten miles.

In any case he'd said more linked up stuff since ... since ever.

The eye was still unwilling focus of his concentration. He noted that it was not brown, as he'd first estimated. From his position, it looked more like a very dark green with brown chips and edge. Ron had good eyes, as long as what he saw wasn't moving like Quidditch balls unfortunately normally did. And the chairman had little wrinkles which lay around his eyes, obviously not just from laughing, because at this moment thought wrinkles laid around his narrowed eyes. He lost himself in the view and didn't notice how time passed, or the frantic scratching of feathers in the press row, but eventually he saw out of the corner of his eye a Wizengamot employee with a tablet walking towards him and at the very moment when he became aware of the ampoule on it the chairman said: "Mr. Weasley, in the ampoule there are two drops of Veritaserum. Please read and sign the enclosed form that you have at your own request asked for the serum and taken it and that you are aware of the consequences. Then you take the drops. Do you understand that, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron nodded. He understood not only that. He also understood why the grandfatherly sound of before now no longer appeared in the voice of the chairman.

He quickly took the pen and after he had signed without reading the form, he took the vial in a hurry, as if it would otherwise disappear. Ron didn't want to think about what would be asked in a moment – but he suspected it anyway – and he didn't wait for the drops to overcome the way and fall off the edge, but sucked them rushingly out of the tube, something his lungs apparenty didn't like.

Coughing, he tried to put back the cartridge, but his whole body shook so much that he had no steady hand, and so it fell back rattling on the metal tray. The sound echoed long in the seemingly quiet room, but Ron didn't even noticed it, he slid back and forth in his chair, struggling with his lungs and tried to blink away the emerging mist of tears.

The chairman waited quietly and siting back until Ron had calmed down again and then asked him again: "State your full name, date of birth and your relationship to the accused."

Shortly coughing came over him again, but it was hardly over when he replied without hesitation: "Ronald Weasley Bilius, 1 March 1980, fiance of Lucius Malfoy."

"What color is your underwear today?"

"Yellow" was quicker out of his mouth than Ron could reconsider the issue at all and at once he went bet red. Embaressed and because of a rest of scratching in his throath he cleared his throat while the chairman continued.

"Take to the Minutes: The witness is from now on Veritaserum. Now, Mr. Weasley", here the president leaned forward and folded his skinny fingers, his eyes on the person in the interrogation chair, "this was some ... unexpected news. Since when are you engaged to the defendant?"

"Since I was fourteen"

Murmur slipped through the ranks and surprise was reflected in one or the other face. The Chairman was quiet, but immediately asked: "Do your parents know about this?"

"No."

"Normally at that age this would be a crime. You're aware of this, aren't you? Moreover, if your parents didn't give you permission to do so. In addition, the defendant was married under magician law at that moment. Correct?"

"Yes."

"The only exception that this point wont be added to the charges would be the fact that it was a spell. Is it one?"

"Yes."

"Voluntarily?" Asked the Wizengamot chairman immediately afterwards.

Although the Veritaserum forced Ron to tell the truth, it couldn't help him with not clearly answerable questions and therefor he stammered out a few 'Uh's, before shrieks from the audience interrupted him. Although he hadn't really answered - or perhaps because of it - Ron's mother drew her own conclusions and began to insult Malfoy again crudely. Ron tried to be heard after the first utterances of 'monster' and 'pervert'. At first Mrs. Weasley didn't react and continued shouting enraged. But when he angrily exclaimed that he had performed the spell, it was instantly quiet again.

Yet another unexpected news for spectators and magician judges, press and family. The latter swam, whether from witness' or defendant's side, since Ron's first statement in a slag of different feelings. While Mrs. Weasley was, beside shock and indignation, above all dominated by anger - but only towards Mr. Malfoy, since her son wasn't responsible for these circumstances, contrary to his statement just now, of that she was sure - Hermione was also saddened by this proof of non-confidence. She was no longer so sure that Harry was really unaware of this, like she had initially assumed, since these two have often had their heads stuck together without telling her about the things that were discussed. It looked similarly for the son of the defendant: Draco was shocked, angry and at the same time sad that he had never heard of this. But shortly after he already felt anger rise in him towards himself, because his father didn't had to spread all his secrets infront of Draco and due to the teachings of Lucius' he was more than aware of this. A Malfoy treated secrets like a valuable mantle: they tend to and cherish it, showed others its brilliance and yet only the carrier was allowed to wrap himself in it.

"Mr. Weasly, to shorten the whole thing now and to get ahead, tell us exactly how it came to this engagement. We're all, well, keen to hear about these events."

"It was right before the Triwizard Tournament. The champions had just been choosen ..."

~*O*~

Harry had betrayed him.

That was clear to Ron. And Hermione - how could it be otherwise? - was on Harry's side. An ugly tangle of many negative feelings that had taken root deep in his belly, escorted Ron on his stomping way towards Hogsmeade and it seemed as if all the others could see the dark cloud over his head, for inconspicuously conspicuous it whispered frequently in his vicinity.

But Ron didn't notice this. He didn't see the new Limbus in the window or the short sorceress, who offered free pink samples infront of Honeydukes; the scolding goat, which entered the Three Magic Broom, wasn't noticed by him, as well as the loitering Crabble-Goyle duo on the street corner. None of it could rip him from his thoughts which were turning around for days about how Harry had sticked him the metaphorical knife in the back, how Hermione – like every damn time – was against Ron, how he had thought like an idiot to have been in on the secret, how he could tell Hermione ...

It was getting dark slowly, but he still strode on towards the city through the cold wind. The paper and the associated powder weighed several pounds in his pocket - at least Ron had that feeling. He probably wouldn't even be able to decipher his own handwriting, as fast as he had scribbled it from the book, so that the librarian wouldn't see it. But it didn't matter, because he could repeat it from memory. It was only a word. Not even a particularly long one and today he would do it. That was his intension; it just made sense. It was the right moon in the sky and the powder was a no brainer and now ready. It would be a real waste not to do it today.

It was not revenge, not really.

Ron just wanted to finally be the one who ... he couldn't exactly put into words, who he wanted to be. In any case, someone else. Someone who hadn't been betrayed. Someone who was smart and strong. Someone who got his girl. Someone on whom side one is.

Certainly, Hermione would at first be a bit angry, but he loved her, and she will like him someday, too. He was sure about it. In any case, she would then be on his side and not on Harry's. He only needed a drop and had to scatter some powder.

The leaves were so wet, they didn't even crackle under his boots as Ron looked up briefly and belatedly realized that he was already out of Hogsmeade and a few meters deep into the surrounding forest.

He sighed deeply and looked around. Behind him was the moist, bathed in twilight forest, before him the village where the lights gradually came on, and behind it you could see the school with its many towers, with windows that looked like thousands of confused eyes, with hundreds of students, with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Again, he had to think about it. Or, better think again more strongly about it, because Ron thought about it all the time. Sometimes it swelled in the background, sometimes it burst forth like a tidal wave, and always he saw it pictured before him. He saw himself sitting there in the hall, next to his - next to Harry, hearing the words, feeling them seep into him, responding and always he imagined how he could have reacted differently, cooler, more relaxed, with less feeling.

Now he was restless again and he began to run to get rid of this overwhelming feeling in his gut.

Thoughts circled and circled like a spinning top about its own axis. Harry's hypocritical face appeared almost as often as Hermione's, and with every step he heard other words, imagined other outcomes, better ones. However, his spirits didn't lift, because as beautiful as his ideas were, so far were they from reality and all his imagination couldn't change that. It only made him think in circles. Time and time again to experience the same real feelings, to evoke them anew.

Like this Ron swayed between triumph and sadness, anger and conceited dignified exit and neither watched were he was going nor all the magicians, who had to jump aside because of him and then insulted him, until he randomly rounded a corner and collided roughly with the figure behind.

With a jolt Ron's head snapped up and, without realizing who stood there before him, he cried out, still angry, "Watch it!"

"That should rather be said by me, boy," came it dryly, with disgust from his opponent.

The voice, well accentuated and harder than his son's, didn't need too long to be recognized and something in Ron just snapped. Not only that he was lied to by his best friends and that some of his siblings alternately teased him and accused him of hiding a secret magic trick from them, the other one sulkingly walked out of Ron's way, even Draco Malfoy couldn't help but always always remind Ron how unimportant he was for 'these two' – "Hey, Weasel! How did Potter's name get in there? Oh, sorry, you weren't there." - "Have you actually threw in all your names? Oh, oops, you weren't in on the secret." - "Well, blood traitor. How does it feel to finally be where you belong?" - "Hey, I have seen these two lovebirds disappearing in a room. Don't you want to follow them?"

And now he stood before him, Lucius Malfoy, from whom Malfoy Jr. had learned his sharp tongue, who had taught him which acid in a wound hurt the most. How Ron wanted to crush this face, so that it would crumble to pieces and Draco would cower in a corner out of fear for Ron. He wanted to beat the arrogance out of this face and this voice and that face that looked so like him, and all the other faces that smiled at him, asked, had pitied him and stared! He didn't need pity! He was not fucking weak!

All of a sudden Ron's closed fist shoot up, hit Malfoy under the chin, let his head fly back, taking him a few steps backwards.

And then everything happened very quickly.

The twitching of an ivory wand was stopped with Expelliamus, a knee wrapped in silk hit an unprotected belly, Ron spat, Malfoy lunged at him. Like a dead mouse, which is spun between cat paws back and forth, they shot as a ball over the moist soil and watered their coats in mud and mire, pinned leaves to their clothes. But Ron was too young and inexperienced in fighting to make an opponent for Malfoy for long and to his anger joined panic when Ron was able to block less and less often. He noticed that his arms got heavier, his breath came whistling and when he came to lie directly on his back with Malfoy's furious and bleeding face directly above him, this throat squeezing feeling increased even more.

Why was he here? Why had he struck to begin with?

In that small eternity in which Ron looked up, any kinds of thoughts flashed through his head. Who knew what Malfoy would do with him now? He knew so many dark spells, had so much influence. They would probably not even be able to trace it back to him. While Ron was lying on the damp earth, whose wetness was eating into his back, a portion of the sky in the corner of his eye and with Malfoy's blood on his lips, he knew that he didn't want to go without having seen his best friends again.

He cried the first-best spell he remembered.

~ * O * ~

"... And then we had sex."

Silence.

Again.

The Chairman cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, Mr. Weasley, but I think you have lost us. Why did you had sex with Mr. Malfoy after your fight with him?"

"Because of the spell. Sorry, I thought it would be known."

"Well, maybe you should explain it."

"Oh, um, yes, of course. So, the book said–"

"Which book?"

"I can't remember anymore. It was green and was in the school library,", came apologizing from Ron. Unfortunately, the Veritaserum couldn't help his memory remembering.

"Very well. Continue. "

"Uh, yes, so the book said that you only had to say the spell at a specific moon position after you, uh, had exchanged bodily fluids and had the powder scattered on both, and it then would bind each other together. It didn't say exactly what liquid was meant and I didn't think that at random exchanged ones would also work. And the powder I had on me. During the brawl my pants broke and the powder was spread. Well, then, that is, after you have said the spell, it forces the two people to have sex with each other to complete it."

"That was very foolish of you, Mr. Weasley."

"I know. I thought that I could break it again very easily, but, well ...", said Ron and shrugged helplessly his shoulders because of his former self. Even when the chairman asked him how he had intended to persuade Ms. Granger to do the spell, Ron could only explain how he had thought that it would have been easy to persuade Hermione to give him some blood without having to explain at large for what he would need it for. The dumping of the powder could have been disguised as a mistake.

Ron was aware of all the different looks from all sides that rested on him and he said quietly to himself that this hall had probably never combined so much attention, as in those moments where all the magician of the Wizengamot and the audience were hanging on his lips - at least since Grindelwald's statement and since then Dumbledore's and then Harry's-

"What effects does this spell have?"

Ron didn't need to tell of the tingling in his fingertips since it wasn't actually part of the spell and so he only replied: "Only one, Mr. Chairman. Namely, that you always know when the other is near. "

First one, then two, then more and more understood what this meant and unbelieving eyes darted between Ron and Lucius.

Ron wanted to finally get down from this chair, wanted to take his arms from the arm rest and escape those eyes. Contrary to what certainly everyone thought Ron didn't want to be in the spotlight all the time. A few seconds of fame per decade were enough for him. He didn't envy Harry the hordes of journalists who had hanged on his heels just after the defeat of Voldemort, and since then chronicled every step of the savior-of-the-wizarding-world. They started a hysterical writing madness at each small stumble – so that the rest of the wizarding world could learn about this as well. No, Ron really didn't need that. He had, however, the strong presumption that after today, a few pseudo-pundits would pursue him too. At least for a – hopefully short – while.

"How close must one be before you feel the presence of the other and can you determine the direction from which he comes?" Asked the chairman with a still quiet voice, despite the recent surprise.

"About five miles or so, and yes, the direction is, well, sensed."

"What did you want to accomplish with this ability?"

"Nothing," Ron mumbled out embarrassed.

The chairman was visibly surprised and amazed repeated: "'Nothing,' Mr. Weasley?"

Ron squirmed uneasily in his chair as he answered sheepishly, "I'd just read that the perception of the partner increases and that's a magic engagement. I'd not expected that 'perception' meant that you'll always know where in the house the partner is. "

A gray eyebrow wandered up, but no comment was made on Ron's inability to search. Instead, the president went back to the previous topic.

"Was the accused in this five-mile radius during the period in which you have searched with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger for the Horcruxes?"

"Yes."

"At a time other than your arrest and the following stay at Malfoy Manor?"

"Yes. He - Mr. Malfoy had been near us several times without attacking us or sending Death Eaters to us. "

"That is a bold statement. Are you sure Mr. Weasley?"

Ron didn't need to think about the answer, for he had done that long enough. When he had felt Lucius' presence for the first time that year, he had been petrified with horror. Only when the tips of his fingers stopped to tingle, could he breathe again, and suddenly several things at once became clear. Not only that Malfoy had found him, and therefore Harry and Hermione, he was gone out again right afterwards- certainly to give away their position to you-know-who. And just because Ron had never told the other two of the meeting, they were now in danger unnecessarily. Ron should never have come. How could he just forget that he was like a Muggle tracking device? He tried to persuade Hermione and Harry to go, but couldn't and didn't say more than having a bad feeling and that was no real argument for both since Ron had never been good with intuition. He knew that even if he explained why he knew that Malfoy was near, they wouldn't leave immediately but still let precious time pass by with questions. Also, Ron didn't want to be facing Hermione if she should ever learn of his former intention. After his collision with Lucius Malfoy it was hard enough for him to look at Hermione, as it had become clear to Ron what he had then nearly done. Hermione would never forgive him such a thing, no matter how good hearted she was otherwise.

Only, the Death Eaters never appeared, and while the next day they decided to change camp, Ron's tired thoughts circled around the blond Death Eater. He was sure that Malfoy had been at least five miles from their position and if Ron could feel it, then no spell of Hermione could stop Malfoy from feeling Ron. It happened even more times in other places, but they were never attacked, and Ron found his own answer to this puzzle.

"Yes, Mr. Chairman. I'm sure. "

"Have you met Mr. Malfoy during the time?"

"Yes."

Murmur.

"When?"

"Two days before Christmas."

Briefly, paper was rustled, then the chairman looked back. "Mr. Malfoy didn't mention this in his statements. "

"He couldn't - he doesn't remember it anymore."

What kind of face was Lucius doing at the moment?

"Are you aware of what you suggest here?"

"Yes," replied Ron, and with that the chairman leaned back.

"Please explain in detail the meeting, Mr. Weasley."

~*O*~

It was cold and wet. He was cold and wet. The sweat on his skin made him freeze even more and not only was the room not heated, but it was also as windy as a train station without a roof. Ron wrapped his arms around his middle, but that too didn't help. He would like to return to the warm bed.

But he couldn't do that.

He slept in it.

Peacefuly, quietly, carefree. Interestingly on his belly, one arm bent in front of the face, the other hidden under the pillow, he sleeped without thinking about Ron, who was watching the bed and its occupant from the chair opposite.

Ron wasn't sure how it came to the present situation. Again.

Like that time. Or no, not really. At that time he had been angry, had become panicky and hadn't thought it through. And had used a spell that had made him and Malfoy do it. This time...

This time he had also been angry. About the Death Eaters, about his pursuers, but mostly about himself. Panicky - no, he had not been panicking. And even now he wasn't. Surprisingly.

This time he had thought about it. A bit.

Shortly after appariting, he had felt Malfoy, very close, and had followed him to the room. Who would have thought that something like this old doss house could be found in Hogsmeade? And apparently it wasn't under the dignity of a Malfoy.

Malfoy hadn't turned around and even when Ron had stormed the room with drawn wand, had Lucius Malfoy not gone on the defensive. Since he had felt all along that Ron was there.

In silence they had faced each other. The other viewing waiting, without moving. Until Ron hadn't been able to endured it any longer - he didn't like silence and Malfoy would have never started anyway, Ron knew that. Even before his first question had sounded in the room, already his next came and the next and the next, until Ron had asked all that was going through his head, and all that he couldn't tell anyone. At some point he hadn't even known what he said, what he'd asked, but he hadn't cared. He had wanted no answers, he'd only wanted to ask the questions.

He had spoken too quickly, his voice had cracked, it was getting louder, and Malfoy had only been standing still and silent.

"I don't want it anymore!" Ron had erupted at some time.

His breath had been going unregular and small white clouds were immediately formed by it, while Malfoy looked at him with an expression that Ron had been unable to interpret.

"Then we're two."

Only a couple of steps had separated them and because of the coolness in the room Malfoy's hands had felt like a branding iron to Ron. Malfoy had said no more that day.

Now Ron was sitting here. In an old chair in an old room opposite an old bed.

With an old family enemy in it.

And it was still cold. Sighing, he stood up and gathered his things from the ground. It was time that he left. However, he couldn't leave Malfoy with the knowledge that Ron was looking for Harry - then the Death Eaters would knew that they were separated and would probably try to ask Ron or worse.

Again he had to sigh. It was true that Ron didn't want to be part of this fight anymore, but even less did he want to put Harry in danger.

His steps drew him unconsciously to the bed and he shortly looked at the relaxed profile in it. Malfoy was so calm, as if he had nothing to fear. Perhaps he even thought that. With that thought Ron raised his wand and invoked for the second time a spell on Malfoy, which would greatly influence him.

Outside, Ron moved his scarf tighter around himself in order to counterbalance the cold and so as not to be identified immediately, and went down the road. Today, Ron had asked many questions, but not the most important. The answer, he would probably get only after the war, if Malfoy and he survive. For now he had to go without a solution.

~ * O * ~

"Are you aware that oblivating that is not executed by an authorized person, is punishable by law?"

"Yes, Mr. Chairman,"

"Mr. Malfoy, do you want to report Mr. Weasley? "

"No."

This was the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts, that Ron heard Lucius' voice, and although this one syllable sounded brittle and unused, it still had that track of malfoyish grandeur. Ron had had much time in the months since the war and had thought about many things. In one of those moments just before falling asleep, where you have no control over your thoughts, Ron had wondered whether this sound of voice is taught every Malfoy scion or whether it was inherited, for they never lost it in any situation. Not when Malfoy and he had rolled on the ground - "What do you think you're doing here, boy?" - when they had seen each other in the street, in the Ministery; when Ron had glimpsed him in his Manor; not in this one floor of Hogwarts as the air had been full of many spells and he had panicked and had tried to ask before they perhaps both die but couldn't. Not when Lucius was sitting with oily hair and unwashed for weeks in a room full of magicians who wanted to see him under the earth or what was the closest to that: locked away for the rest of his life. And yet that sound of voice was still there and not only with that did Lucius show his opinion.

Ron wasn't the only one who noticed that the respectful 'Mr. Chairman' was missing, some let themselves be carried away to a whispered curse, but the Wizengamot chairman only aknowledged that with a glance in Lucius' direction and then turned back to Ron.

"Were there more meetings after this one between you and Mr. Malfoy?"

"No, the next time I saw Mr. Malfoy for a short moment during our escape from Malfoy Manor, and after that during the Battle of Hogwarts."

"You did not see him during your imprisonment?" Asked the chairman on and on, demanded all the details Ron could remember that concerned Lucius; all the little things that you think aren't important at the moment where they happen, Ron tried to fish out of his mind, because it was important. Important because otherwise Lucius would probably never be free again, important, because otherwise they might only judge according to their prejudices, important, for otherwise he would probably never again feel this tingling.

The chairman rustled his papers and cleared his throat nervously. Apparently he was depressed by Ron's last answer regarding the spell that tied Ron and Lucius together. It couldn't be broken.

"I'm sorry for you," he said, the normally unbiased one.

"You don't have to be. It's not so bad, actually. "

An incredulous look later, a sigh, and Ron could go. Finally he was allowed to escape from the room and the looks.

~ oOo ~

It didn't smell rotten, it wasn't dark and didn't otherwise satisfy any other clichés, but you could still immediately tell that you were in a prison wing. Officially it was called 'waiting area for the accused of Wizengamot trials' but that was just a more pleasing name for 'prison' in the ministry. Cells were every where cells.

The access was denied to all bystanders, and only the fact that Ron was now officially the fiance of one of the defendants, allowed him to be here. His nervousness had kept Ron again on his legs like in the previous night and he had again lined up his words, but when Lucius was brought by two Aurors, whose eyes Ron ignored deliberately, he unfortunately again lost his fake feeling of peace and could in the beginning only be silent.

Minutes ticked by, in which Ron was looking for words and Lucius was sitting quietly in his cell, until it was again on Ron to break their silence.

"You'll surely be set free," Ron dared to say with as much confidence as possible into the silence.

But Lucius didn't answer, instead with a sigh he leaned in to the cold stone wall of the cell. Ron already feared that Lucius didn't want to talk to him and would send him away. But then, at least, he would stilll have time to look for a place to sleep, Ron tried to reassure himself. But before he could think this idea through, Lucius began to speak.

"You could have lied."

This time it was Ron who sighed.

"I didn't want to lie anymore. I've lied for too long. "

"No one had even guessed it."

"Yes, not even your ex-wife," said Ron, and couldn't hold back a distorted grin. Yes, no one would ever have needed to know it and Ron could have kept this secret. But what would have happened if due to his false statements, Lucius would have been locked up? What would happen in ten or twenty years, when he could put someone in danger due to his silence? How could he explain his long delay then? How could he then explain to Hermione that at a young age he had wanted to-

No, he shouldn't follow this thought. He had thought long enough about it and had decided to say it. Now it was too late. Now, everyone knew it. Even Hermione, and his family.

He hadn't been able to hold back and had squinted in their direction on leaving the hearing room. His mother had stared at him blankly and shocked, and Hermione had been crying. Ron hadn't seen Hermione cry very often in the years that they've known each other, and to see it now had hit him hard. He had known early on when everyone else was still thinking that they'd make a good couple together, that Hermione and him were only connected by friendship, and now it looked as if he would lose that.

"What will you do now?"

Shrugging his shoulders Ron said: "I don't really know. At best I go out of their way for now. " while patting his pants pocket.

Ron didn't need to say exactly whom he didn't want to meet for the next time, it was clear to Lucius without thorough explanation, and he nodded.

"My son moved to London last month."

At first Ron didn't know how to respond to this remark and when Lucius added sighing that he therefore had a room free, Ron could only stare at him. Delayed, he asked why.

"I take care of family members," was all Lucius said to this, and despite the seemingly unreal situation, which he wouldn't be able to have imagined just yesterday, Ron had to grin. He knew that this was only an excuse, but he would use it anyway.

In the eyes of others, they perhaps weren't good for each other, but ...

The End
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Late Facts