“You’re not nervous, are you?”
Ron has to consider this. His instinct is to be very, very nervous. Perhaps more nervous than he has been about anything that wasn’t life-or-death since his Hogwarts sorting.
Rationally, however, he isn’t sure why. Perhaps it’s because this is the first time he’s worn dress robes in ages. The last time had been in fourth year at the Yule Ball and the robes he is wearing now are unspeakably nicer. (Draco chose them, so of course they are.)
Perhaps it’s because he’s nervous at what his family will say. Harry will just smile ironically and Hermione will roll her eyes in exasperated amusement. Charlie, Bill and Percy can be trusted to control themselves. But his parents and George and Ginny? (Funny how he doesn’t worry about the Malfoys murdering him.)
By all rights it is Draco who should be worried. Ron isn’t the one who is about to announce his engagement to a blood traitor of the same gender when he is the last heir or a long-standing Pureblood line. But Draco is absolutely calm. In fact, he is simply standing there and watching Ron with an amused sort of smirk, one eyebrow raised in askance.
“Of course I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous?” he blurts out, making it painfully obvious that he is ready to run out the door
“I told you a grand announcement wasn’t a very good idea,” Draco says, laughter edging into his voice. Ron flushes. “But it’s too late now.” His arms wind around Ron’s waist and suddenly they’re close enough for Ron to smell his cologne.
“I’m a Weasley, we can’t do anything subtly.” Ron closes his eyes and lets his head fall back onto Draco’s shoulder. “How long do you think my parents will wait before they hex me?”
“Before your mother smothers you to death, you mean,” Draco drawls. “She’s scarier when she’s happy than when she’s angry.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen her angry yet.”
“I probably will eventually. If we ever manage to actually go down and announce our engagement.” Suddenly, Draco stops, as though having thought of something, and asks in a completely different tone. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
Ron turns sharply in his arms, eyes narrowed. “Don’t be daft, Malfoy. Of course I haven’t.”
“Then shut up already and let’s go down.” He grabs Ron’s hand and pulls him down the long staircase to face their families.