Chapter 6
— Ron’s pov gala —
The gala was everything Ron had feared it would be—a sea of flashing cameras, expensive dresses, and endless conversations that felt more like posturing than genuine interest. He hated it. But it was important. The company, the deals, the connections. All the things that were supposed to matter now, all the things that would prove to his father, to Draco, that he could do this. That he could be enough.
Draco was supposed to be here with him. He’d wanted to go, but work had kept him behind, and Ron hadn’t minded at first. He told himself Draco’s absence didn’t matter. He’d adjust. He had to.
But when a tall ravenette woman in a floor-length blue gown appeared beside him, her presence almost too perfect to be accidental, he should have known what was coming. Her smile was warm, sweet, but it carried something Ron couldn’t quite place—expectation.
"Ron, darling, you look absolutely stunning tonight," she said, her voice a silky murmur that only made the pit in his stomach deepen.
"Thank you," Ron said, offering a tight smile, his discomfort palpable. "You look lovely as well."
They exchanged pleasantries, but Ron’s thoughts were elsewhere. His gaze flickered to the dance floor where couples twirled in graceful circles, the bright lights casting shadows across their perfectly manicured faces. He longed to be with Draco, to feel the calm that only Draco seemed able to provide. But instead, here he was, surrounded by strangers, each one with a calculated smile and an unspoken agenda.
The woman, though, didn’t seem interested in letting him go. She moved closer, her hand lightly brushing against his arm.
"Everyone’s talking about how you’ve really made it, Ron. It’s impressive, what you’ve achieved." Her blue eyes glinted, a subtle, knowing gleam in them.
Before Ron could respond, she stepped even closer, her fingers lightly grazing his neck, and then—without warning—her lips pressed firmly against his.
It happened in a blur, too fast for him to react, too shocking to process. The taste of her lipstick, the softness of her touch—it was wrong. So wrong. His body froze, his heart stuttering in his chest as he struggled to grasp what was happening. He had no idea how to stop it, how to pull away. His mind screamed at him to push her off, to make it clear that this wasn’t who he was. But by the time his hands moved, the damage had already been done.
The flash of a camera, the clicking sound, and the unmistakable pop of an image being captured echoed through the air.
Ron’s body jerked back, instinctively pushing the woman away. The shock of it all surged through him, but it was too late.
The damage had been done. The image would be everywhere. The world would see it. Draco would see it.
— One-stage exit to the hotel —
Ron left right after going to his hotel room Ron’s phone buzzed incessantly, the notifications flooding in before he even had the chance to open his eyes. His stomach dropped as he reached for his phone, his pulse quickening. The first headline he saw was enough to make him feel like the world had dropped out from under him:
Ron Weasley Caught in Lip Lock with Mystery Woman at Charity Gala
He scrolled, his eyes widening at the photos of him and the woman, the kiss frozen in time, a moment that had never been his to give. He hated it. He hated that it happened, hated how it looked. How it was everywhere. The very thought of Draco seeing it—seeing him like this—made Ron sick to his stomach.
And yet, he couldn't take it back.
— Ron’s Manor —
Back at the house, Draco sat in bed, staring at his phone. His hand trembled as he flicked through the news articles, the photos of Ron and the woman plastered across every site. His heart sank with each word, each image. He had already known things weren’t perfect, but this—this was a betrayal he hadn’t expected.
He could feel the burn of tears threatening to spill, but he wouldn’t let them fall. Not yet. He was too angry to cry. Too heartbroken.
The anger bubbled up inside him, pushing aside the shock, the hurt. How could he do this to me?
His fingers hovered over the phone screen, shaking with fury as he composed a message.
You couldn’t even be bothered to tell me?
But even as the words formed, he knew he couldn’t send it. The question was too raw, too hurtful. It wouldn’t fix anything. Nothing would. The truth had already been laid bare in the cold light of the morning, in those damning photos. The lie that Ron had fed him—that he was changing, that he cared—crumbled with each passing second.
— Ron's pov —
Ron didn’t know how long he sat in his hotel room, his phone pressed to his ear, waiting for Draco to pick up. When he finally did, it was almost worse than the silence.
“Draco,” Ron began, his voice tight with guilt, “please, let me explain. I didn’t—”
“Explain?” Draco’s voice was ice, sharp, and cutting. “What could you possibly explain, Ron? I saw it. I saw everything.”
“I swear to you, it was nothing. She kissed me. I didn’t want it, Draco, I didn’t. I pushed her off the moment it happened—”
"Don't you dare lie to me." Draco’s voice cracked, the pain evident even through the phone. “I saw the photos, Ron. Everyone saw the photos. How could you? After everything?”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen. I hate it. I hate myself for it, but you don’t understand—”
“No,” Draco cut him off. “You don’t understand. You think this is just about some stupid kiss, but it’s not. It’s everything you’ve become. It’s the lies, the distance. The fact that I’ve been standing here, waiting for you to come back to me, and you’re already gone.”
Ron’s throat tightened, a lump forming that made it impossible to speak.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Draco continued. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t even care enough to stop. Not for me. Not for us.”
Ron’s heart pounded in his chest. The world felt like it was collapsing around him. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. What could he say? How could he explain that he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, that the woman had kissed him, that it wasn’t his fault?
But it didn’t matter anymore. Draco had already made up his mind.
Draco hung up, the line going dead before Ron could say another word.
At that moment, Ron knew. The damage had been done. And as he sat there, surrounded by the reminders of his failure, Ron could no longer deny the truth: He had lost Draco. And it was all his fault.
He had to get home.
— 16 hours later –
Draco stood in the middle of thei– Ron’s bedroom, It never felt like theirs. his fingers trembling as he folded the last of his clothes into suitcase’s. His mind raced, heart heavy with every fold of fabric. He had tried to deny it, tried to pretend that things could get better between them, but the truth was undeniable now. Ron had changed.
Draco couldn’t ignore the gut-wrenching feeling that had settled in him the last few weeks—the growing distance, the silence that filled the space where there used to be laughter. The cheating, The lies. They had tried. They had fought for it, but now it was clear. This wasn’t going to work.
As he finished packing, his phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking him out of his spiraling thoughts. He grabbed it without thinking and saw a message from Mrs. Weasley. The words stopped him in his tracks.
“We saw what happened Draco, It can't go on like this. we will be here for you. We understand this is hard. We want you both to be happy, even if that means being apart. You’re still family to us, no matter what.”
Draco swallowed hard, his chest tightening. Mrs. Weasley had always treated him like one of her own, and even now, despite everything, her words stung. It made this so much harder. He wasn’t just walking away from Ron; he was walking away from a family that had accepted him. He didn’t know if he was strong enough for this.
Draco stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the decision bearing down on him. He had to go. He had to leave before he did something stupid—before he let his feelings convince him to stay in something that had already begun to fall apart.
But then, something caught his eye.
Ron’s fancy mahogany desk, a cluttered mess of papers, held a drawer that was slightly ajar. It was a place where Draco rarely ventured. Something inside him urged him to open it, to see what Ron had hidden there. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but his feet carried him toward it, drawn by some force he couldn’t name.
Draco pulled open the drawer slowly, the sound of wood echoing in the silence of the room. There, tucked at the very back, was a small velvet box. His heart skipped a beat.
He opened it carefully, almost hesitantly, to reveal a silver ring, delicate and beautiful. A small diamond sparkled in the center, its simple elegance striking in its perfection. It was everything Draco had ever imagined—everything he had hoped for in the man he loved. And then, beneath the ring, he found a folded-up note, crinkled with time.
Draco’s breath caught as he unfolded it, recognizing Ron’s handwriting instantly. It was almost a year old, and reading it felt like opening a door to a past that had long since slipped away.
“Draco,” the note began, “ it’s 2:39 am March 27, I know I should be sleeping but I can't stop thinking about you. I have so much I wanna tell you, I bought you an engagement ring today, I know it's not much but I saved up a found one that I thought you would love. Merlin, I hope you say yes. I need to tell you that I love you more than I can express in words. I’m scared of what you’ll say when I ask, but I can’t keep living with this fear. I want you to know that I’m ready, and I hope you’ll be too. I’m asking for your heart, and I’m asking for your trust. But more than anything, I’m asking for your future. I’m scared of what it might mean for us, but I’m even more scared of not trying. I want you, Draco. I need you. I hope you’ll say yes. But even if you don’t, I’ll always love you.”
Draco’s vision blurred, and tears dropped on the paper. he could feel the weight of the note in his hands as if it were made of stone. The man who had written these words—the man who had been so vulnerable, so sure of his love—was nothing like the man who had stood before him just a day ago. The man who had changed into someone unrecognizable.
Tears fell from Draco’s eyes as he stared at the ring, knowing that the man who had given it to him was gone. This was a different Ron now. A Ron who had lost himself in his own insecurities and his attempts to prove he was enough. The man who had written this letter—the man who had cared so deeply, who had wanted to build a future with Draco—was the person Draco still loved.
He gently placed the ring back into its box and set it on the table. He reached for a piece of paper and a pen, his hands shaking as he wrote.
“I would have said yes.”
The words were simple, but they carried everything Draco had wanted to say to Ron. Everything he had never gotten the chance to. He had wanted to say yes then, when Ron had asked with his heart laid bare, but now… now it was too late. His hand reached up and gripped the necklace his mum gave him the day he moved out, He hadn't taken it off since but he slipped it off laying it on his note. One final goodbye.
Draco wiped away his tears and finished packing the last of his things. He didn’t know what would happen when Ron came upstairs. He didn’t know if they could fix this. But he couldn’t stay in this broken version of their relationship anymore.
Just as he finished closing his last suitcase, the sound of Ron’s new fancy car pulling into the driveway reached his ears. His heart pounded in his chest. He had to leave before Ron saw. he shrank his bags and slipped them into his pocket.
Draco took one last look at the room—the room where he had spent so many lonely nights—and turned to leave, his footsteps quiet in the hall. He didn’t look back.
He walked down the stairs seeing Ron standing in the entryway “We have to talk… W-why is there a limo outside?” Ron's voice shook, “My parents called it.” Draco said walking past him “What? Where are we going?” Ron reached for him but Draco surged him off walking to the door “It's just for me” Draco looked up, His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, and the lump in his throat made it nearly impossible to speak. The warm glow of the chandelier above bathed the lavish house in golden light, casting shadows across the marble floors—the floors Ron had once sworn they would never need.
Now, they lived in a world of extravagance, a world Ron had once despised but had embraced so completely that it caused Draco heartache.
Tears shimmered in Draco’s pale eyes, threatening to spill over again as he forced himself to meet Ron’s gaze. The man standing before him wasn’t the same one he had fallen in love with.
His Ron—the boy who used to laugh at the idea of wealth solving everything, who found happiness in the simplest of moments—was buried beneath designer robes, expensive cologne, and a life that gleamed so brightly it blinded him to what truly mattered.
“I can't do this anymore. I've tried and tried to tell you I didn't need this” He waved his arms around “That I didn't want this, but you never listened. I can't do this anymore” His voice broke on the last sentence
“Goodbye, Ron.” His voice was quiet, and trembling but he pushed through. “Whenever the shininess of this new life wears off, come find me. Because this… this is not the man I love.” He inhaled sharply, his breath shaky. “If you ever realize what you've lost, maybe then we’ll have something to talk about. Until that day, we’re done.”
Ron’s face twisted in confusion, his lips parting like he wanted to protest, but Draco pressed on before he could.
“I will not stand here and watch you become everything you once swore you never would. I will not watch you be swallowed whole by greed.” His voice wavered, but his resolve did not. “I hope this shiny life was everything you wanted, I hope she was everything you wanted. Ronald. Because you chose it over me.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Draco could see the way Ron’s fingers twitched at his sides, how his brows furrowed, his mouth opening—desperate to say something, to stop him. Tears in his eyes ‘No, Please You don't understand”
But Draco couldn’t hear him. Not now. Not like this.
He turned before Ron could get another word out, his heeled boots echoing against the floor as he walked out the door. He didn’t look back. If he did, he knew he would break.
And he couldn’t afford to break. Not for a man who no longer remembered what truly mattered.
— 5 minutes later —
Ron entered his room, his heart heavy, as he moved toward the desk. His mind was still racing, trying to process the fact that Draco had left. The silence felt so different, so final, that it weighed on his chest.
He reached the desk and froze when his eyes landed on the small open velvet box. The one he’d been planning to give to Draco. The one that now felt like the symbol of everything he had messed up. With trembling fingers, he touched the silver ring with its delicate diamond, shining softly in the dim light. It was perfect—exactly what he had envisioned for Draco.
But as his gaze lingered on the ring, he noticed something else. beside it, tucked carefully, was a note. Ron’s breath hitched as he recognized Draco’s handwriting. His heart pounded in his chest as he grabbed it.
" I would have said yes."
The simplicity of the words tore at him. There were tear marks on the paper. Draco’s, He made Draco cry. His fingers clutched the note as a fresh wave of guilt and regret hit him. He wanted to scream, to punch the walls, but instead, his vision blurred with tears.
He placed the note on the table, his mind racing with the pain of realizing how wrong he had been. His eyes caught something else—Draco’s necklace, the one his mother had given him when he moved out. It lay on top of the note as if it had been placed there with a care that spoke of something deeper, something Ron could never have imagined in the haze of his own insecurities.
The necklace—the delicate silver chain with the small charm of both their family crests intertwined. It seemed like it had always been a part of Draco, a part of his life, and now it felt like a reminder of everything Ron had failed to see. It was a symbol of the things Draco had carried with him: his past, his family, and his love for Ron.
Ron picked up the necklace, his fingers brushing over the cool metal, and placed it gently beside the note. He couldn’t stop the tears that fell now, not when he saw how much Draco had trusted him, how much he had loved him, and how deeply Ron had taken that love for granted.
Draco had been so open, so vulnerable, so willing to share his heart—and what had Ron done? He had focused on the wrong things, on the things that didn’t matter, instead of the quiet moments, the love that Draco had always offered without condition.
As Ron wiped the tears from his eyes, he felt a crushing weight settle over him. He had ruined everything. He had been so scared of not being enough that he had never once considered that he already was enough for Draco—just as he was.
Ron placed the ring back in the velvet box and slowly, carefully, took the note. He sat down at the desk, his heart breaking the weight of his mistakes seemed unbearable. He clutched the necklace in his hand.
"I love you," Ron whispered, his voice barely audible over the aching silence. But it was too late, wasn't it?
He stood up and glanced one last time at the empty room, the place where he had so many nights watching Draco sleep,
All of it was gone now, just like Draco.
And it was all Ron’s fault
— three days later —
The grand hall of Ron's manor was unusually quiet, the only sound the crackling of the fire as Ron stood before it, lost in his thoughts. The lavish surroundings seemed to suffocate him now—glittering chandeliers, polished floors, the opulence of his life that had once been a symbol of success, of proving something to Draco, to everyone. But now, it all felt hollow.
The room was empty, save for the echo of his thoughts. Everything he had worked so hard for, everything he had thought would give him worth, was starting to crumble. The rise in status, the champagne with kings and queens, the parties filled with people who didn’t really know him—they were all distractions, masks he wore to hide the insecurities that ran deeper than any wealth or acclaim.
As he stood there, his hand slowly reached out, almost as if on instinct. His fingers brushed the edge of a picture frame resting on a nearby table—a photo of him and Draco from a time when everything had been simpler. He hadn’t realized how much he'd needed it until now.
He swallowed hard, his breath shaky as he finally spoke, his voice low and steady, though filled with regret.
"I saw the sun begin to dim and felt that winter wind blow cold," Ron murmured, his words hanging in the silence like a weight. "A man learns who is there for him when the glitter fades and the walls won’t hold."
He paused, eyes fixed on the photo of him and Draco, a past that now felt like a distant dream.
"Cause from then, rubble one remains—can only be what’s true," Ron continued, the realization settling deep in his chest. "If all was lost, it’s more I gained, 'cause it led me back to you."
The words were a bitter truth, but they were a truth, and Ron felt the sting of it. The life he’d built, the persona he had taken on, had been for nothing. The accolades, the adoration, they were never his to claim. They were someone else's dream, a dream that had clouded everything that mattered.
He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning against the table where the picture sat, and let out a breath. The weight of years of chasing had finally caught up to him.
"I drank champagne with kings and queens, politicians praised my name," he said, a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh escaping his lips. "But those were someone else’s dream, the pitfall of the man I became."
He shook his head, looking down at his reflection in the glass of the photo frame. For years and years, he had chased the cheers, the applause. But in the end, he realized it had all been a distraction, a way to drown out the voice telling him he wasn’t enough.
"For years and years, I chased his cheers, the crazy spread of always needing more," Ron muttered, a flicker of pain crossing his face. "But when I stop and see you here..." He looked back at the picture, a soft, sad smile tugging at his lips. "I remember who all this was for."
The weight on his chest felt lighter now, but not because everything was fixed. Not yet. But for the first time in ages, Ron allowed himself to feel the truth. He had built a life he thought would impress everyone else, but in the end, all it had done was push away the one person who had always mattered—Draco.
A sob caught in his throat, but he wiped it away quickly, determination growing in its place. He had made mistakes. He had let fear control him. But he wasn’t going to keep running from the truth anymore.
He had to fix this.
Just then, the sound of the door creaking open broke his reverie. Ron turned quickly, and there they were—Harry and Hermione, their faces both concerned and caring.
"Ron," Hermione’s voice was soft, as she stepped forward, the warmth of her presence filling the room. "We need to talk."
Ron didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to hear what they had to say, but he knew, deep down, that he needed to. He was tired of hiding from it all.
"Mate..." Harry’s voice broke through the tension, a familiar comfort. "We know you're hurting. But you don't have to go through this alone. We're here."
Ron swallowed, his voice strained. "I thought I could do it all. Be the person I thought Draco wanted. I thought... I thought if I had everything—status, wealth, power—that it would be enough."
Hermione sighed, crossing the room and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You don’t have to be something you're not, Ron. You’ve always been enough. We know who you are. But the question is—do you know who you are anymore?"
Ron’s eyes dropped to the floor, his heart heavy. They were right. The person he had tried to become was a stranger. And the person he had been—wasn’t enough to stop the whirlwind of insecurities that had clouded everything.
"You're not meant to carry this weight alone," Harry added, stepping up beside Hermione. "We're your friends. You don’t need the mansion, the wealth, the praise. What matters is that you know who you are."
Ron looked at them, his eyes softening. "I’ve been running from the truth," he said quietly. "Chasing something that... doesn’t even matter."
Hermione gave him a gentle smile. "It’s never too late to come back. We’re here, Ron. And Draco? He’s probably waiting for you to stop running too."
A deep breath filled Ron’s chest, and for the first time, he felt like he could exhale. The burden didn’t feel as heavy anymore. The truth was there, standing in front of him, waiting for him to acknowledge it.
He looked back at the photo of him and Draco, a soft smile crossing his lips as the realization set in. He wasn’t going to run anymore. He wasn’t going to chase things that didn’t matter.
"From now on," he whispered, as if making a vow to himself, "I’m going to be me. I’m going to stop running from who I am... and stop running from the truth."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a knowing glance before wrapping him in a tight embrace, the room filling with warmth, not from the fire—but from the support that surrounded him.
He had to find Draco