The Politician's Wife - Dramione

Chapter 10: Your Serve

"Ahem," I said in a stern voice and shook my hand in his face.

The Borgia heirloom was firmly cemented on my wedding ring finger, and no amount of pulling would dislodge it.

"No need to be so shirty. I mean anyone with even half an eye would see how beautiful that ring is on your hand. You have exquisite hands. It's the first thing I noticed about you."

"Not my Mudblood buck teeth? That's how I remember it." I pursed my mouth in irritation and shook my hand again.

"Oh no! She's pursing her mouth at me," he said in faux horror. "Hexes can't be far behind," he whispered in my ear.

"Draco!"

"Stop getting your knickers in a twist. I'll warrant they're probably virginal white cotton that on anyone else would stop the most violent sexual desire dead in its tracks, but on you I'm sure they are as sexy as all hell. Oh, the stern eyebrows! Now I'm really in hot water. Just for lunch. Please. I promise. I mean, you're my wife--"

"I'm not your--"

He waved away my objection. "For all intents and purposes, you are." Seeing the look at my face he backpedaled immediately. "Here. At lunch. Only on Fridays. For one hour. As such, I'd rather stick a fork in my eye than contemplate the idea that in the throes of mad love I bought you that plebian, utterly drab set of rings. It's insulting."

"Ron had absolutely no--"

"Please do not bore me with the sad state of his financial affairs. Yes, I'm sure when he bought you those metal circular eyesores he didn't have two Galleons to rub together. He certainly can't say that now, and I have yet to see him addressing that sorry state of affairs you call your wedding rings."

"He doesn't care about things like that," I said primly.

Our twentieth wedding anniversary had come and gone with only a dozen roses to mark its passing. I tried, without success, to ignore the stunning ring that Harry had surprised Ginny with on their twentieth (which happens to be the same day as ours--we had a double wedding--we didn't even get married on our own). Ginny and I marked the event by pooling our money and tacking on three days at the end of that Auror trip so that Ron and Harry could bake themselves on the beach while staying at some ridiculously expensive hotel in San Diego. Wherever that was.

It wasn't that I wanted a new ring because I didn't. Well, I wouldn't have turned it down. But what I would have appreciated was a tangible acknowledgment of our two decades together that didn't end up in the dust bin a week later. Plus, I couldn't help but feel that the roses were nothing more than a "save." That I would have gotten only a peck on the cheek if Ginny or Harry hadn't reminded Ron to do something. Still, I found myself standing up for him.

"Ron isn't the most visual person in the world unless it's the sight of a Quaffle sailing through the air. It's all right."

"No, it's not. It irks me. It's on par with his ignoring your working vacations and letting you sink into a frumpy middle-age without so much as a whimper of protest," he said in a sharp rebuke. "Please, I don't want to talk about him. He only irritates me."

I hated it when Draco insulted Ron, because ninety percent of the time it wasn't that he was right, but he wasn't exactly wrong.

"Now I've hurt your feelings. All right, I was saving this for later, but I can see that I must spend this capital today or you'll sulk the entire lunch. I couldn't bear that after eating lunch by myself for weeks on end. He's doing a magnificent job, much to my surprise."

"Draco!"

"Now you're back to scolding me. Excellent. Of course, I knew he'd be good, but he's surpassed all expectations and has completely silenced the critics who dared to whisper the word 'nepotism.'" He gave me a look. Which I ignored. "Not that I was right or anything. Anyway, the word is that Jenkins left the office in a state of complete disarray. Your husband is sweeping through with his new broom and in addition to putting things right, he's discovered some fiscal, how shall we say, irregularities."