Disclaimer: all characters, places etc., are the property of J.K. Rowling.

A/N: So this is for Konsui's Little Brother's Slashed Place Challenge. My prompt was Draco/Ron, involving the Astronomy Tower. I normally don't write Draco/Ron (mostly cos I normally ship Draco with either Harry or Hermione :P) so this was a bit of a challenge for me. Still, I hope I did it justice! This is set after the war, in a scenario where the Golden Trio and various other seventh years are given the option to repeat the year because of Voldemort's evil regime and all that jazz. Also, I know that Lucius and Narcissa were pardoned after the war because they defected, but for the purposes of this story, they weren't. Uh, yeah. Please read and review!

Drowning Our Sorrows

Draco Malfoy waited until the rest of the Slytherins had fallen asleep before slipping out of bed and into the common room. He listened intently to the sounds of snores drifting from the dormitories. Everything seemed to be in order. Careful not to make a sound, he crept over to the fireplace and pushed at a brick which protruded slightly from the side. The brick came loose, revealing a large, full bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. Draco slid the bottle out of its hiding place and headed for the door, pausing only to perform a quick Disillusionment Charm on himself. He wasn't lucky like Potter. He didn't have an Invisibility Cloak lying around.

Of course, he didn't normally make a point of sneaking around the castle after dark, either. Especially this year – since the end of the war, Draco had been doing everything he could to blend into the background at Hogwarts. It wasn't easy. Everyone knew that his father had received a life sentence in Azkaban for crimes against wizardkind, and his mother had only managed to evade a life sentence of her own. Instead, she had received ten years. By the time Narcissa was released, Draco would be twenty eight. It was strange, to think of it like that.

He hadn't wanted to return to Hogwarts after his parents had been sentenced. It was optional, after all – the Ministry were providing those whose education had been "disrupted by the war" with a second chance. Most had taken it, though Draco had noticed upon his return to the castle that the Slytherin dormitory was a lot emptier than it had once been. Clearly, some of them had not learned their lesson. Or maybe they were just afraid of how the other students would see them. That was how Draco had felt. He had realized – too late – that pureblood ideals didn't matter, and Voldemort's twisted idea of the perfect world was crazy, but that didn't mean that his peers would just forget everything he had done.

Still, when it came down to it, Draco needed his education. He couldn't rely on the Malfoy name or fortune like he used to. He was going to have to work for his qualifications and prove to the rest of the wizarding world that he could get by just fine without his "privileges".

Maybe he'd become an Auror. That would show them.

He suppressed a bitter laugh, resisting the urge to break open the Firewhiskey. Not yet, he reminded himself. Just a little bit longer. He wasn't sure why, but it didn't feel right to just swig the stuff in the corridors. He almost felt like there was somewhere he was supposed to be.

Soon enough, he found himself climbing the steps to the Astronomy Tower. Draco came to a halt at the top step and removed his wand, lifting the Disillusionment Charm. No need for it anymore – he could replace it when he was making his way back to the common room.

"Bottoms up," he muttered, uncapping the bottle of Firewhiskey and taking a swig. It burned his throat and left a fiery trail along the inside of his ribcage, but it was worth it. People said that Firewhiskey was like liquid courage. Courage was something Draco was certainly in short supply of. He drank deeply from the bottle, resisting the urge to cough and splutter as his insides burned. He could practically feel himself growing braver by the second, or perhaps he was simply growing more intoxicated. Either way, it felt good.

He stared out at the grounds blearily, remembering the end of his sixth year, when he had come to this very tower with the intention of killing Professor Dumbledore. He'd only been a kid, just sixteen years old, and he'd thought he had it in him to murder an old man who had been nothing but kind to him. Well, he'd been wrong. He wondered vaguely what would have happened if he'd taken a swig of Firewhiskey before attempting it. It didn't matter, anyway. Snape had taken care of that little problem.

Draco sighed, swigging another mouthful of Firewhiskey. It didn't burn so much now. His head was beginning to throb lightly when he heard the footsteps.

If he hadn't been so drunk, he might have performed another Disillusionment Charm, or at least tried to hide – but his father hadn't been kidding when he said Firewhiskey was powerful stuff, and Draco couldn't even bring himself to shuffle into the shadows. Of course, he regretted it a moment later when he spotted a mop of flaming red hair floating in front of him.

"Malfoy?" Ron Weasley said incredulously. "Blimey... what're you doing up here? Is that Firewhiskey?" He glanced around, as if trying to make sure that nobody was listening to them. "Can I have some?"

Draco wrinkled his nose at him. "I think – hic – that the better question – hic – is what are you doing – hic – here, Weasley?" he said, attempting a sneer and failing miserably. "Trouble in – hic – paradise?"

He was referring, of course, to Ron's budding relationship with the mudbl– with Hermione Granger. The two had gotten together during the final battle, the Battle of Hogwarts, to nobody's surprise. Draco saw them all the time in the corridors, holding hands, their heads bent together. It made him sick.

Ron's cheeks reddened. "Don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," he said, trying to sound airy. He yanked the near-empty bottle of Firewhiskey from Draco's hands and pulled out his wand. "Here." He touched the tip of his wand to the glass bottle and the liquid inside slowly grew until it was full once more. Draco hated to admit it, but he was impressed.

He supposed the least he could do was let the other boy have a taste. He waved his hand graciously at Ron and the redhead grinned, bringing the bottle to his lips and drinking gratefully.

"Bloody hell, it's got a kick, hasn't it?" he said cheerfully, clambering into a sitting position beside Draco. "Er, really though, what are you doing here? Because I only came to get away from–" He stopped suddenly, muttering a curse under his breath. Draco grinned victoriously.

"Knew it!" he crowed, pointing at Ron's blushing face. "You and Granger are – hic – such fakes!" He slurred a little on the s's.

"Hang on," Ron said, sounding angry, "what do you mean, fakes?"

Draco shrugged. "You swan around the castle like – hic – Lancelot and Guinevere and you pretend – hic – that you're so in love that nothing can get between you, but it's a lie. Hic. You're just as screwed up – hic – as me."

Ron stared at him for a moment and then downed some more Firewhiskey. Draco was impressed – he'd swallowed nearly half the bottle in one mouthful. Thatwas going to have an effect. And sure enough, within ten minutes Ron was equally as intoxicated as the blond haired Slytherin, swaying from side to side with wide blue eyes.

"I could get used to this stuff," he declared, shaking the bottle. It was nearly empty once more. The Refilling Charm wasn't as effortless this time around. It took Ron four tries before the liquid rose to the lip of the bottle. He rewarded himself with another mouthful.

They sat companionably in the Astronomy Tower for the next hour or so, taking turns drinking the Firewhiskey, even bickering good naturedly about the goings-on at Hogwarts and how strange it was to be in the very first eighth year. Draco was surprised to find that he was actually enjoying the redhead's company. He was just beginning to think he could tolerate him when Ron's shoulders started to shake and his breath turned to ragged sobs. Draco stared at him in confusion for a few moments, before noticing that the other boy was crying.

"Oh," he said stupidly. "Whass wrong?"

"Iss Hermione," Ron cried, shuddering. "I – I love her, but I'm only – hic – eighteen and – hic – she's s-s-suffocating me. My mum is – hic – making wedding plans. Hermione's got our – hic – kids' names picked out!"

Draco blinked. He wondered if he should comfort the other boy, but this really wasn't Draco's area of expertise. No girl had ever wanted to marry him. They certainly hadn't wanted him to father their children.

"Oh," he said again.

Ron looked up at him, his face shining with tears. "You've got it – hic – easy, Malfoy," he said mournfully. "No girls want to go out with a guy who served Lord – hic – Voldemort. You don't have to – hic – worry about this sort of stuff."

That stung. Draco glared at him.

"I wouldn't worry about Granger," he said icily, working hard to avoid slurring his speech. He stood, wobbling a little. "Sooner or later she's going to realize what a pathetic, spineless little blood traitor you are and find herself a real man."

Ron stared at him in shock. It was the type of thing he would have expected from the old Draco, the pre-war Draco. Not this Draco, the one who slugged Firewhiskey with him in the Astronomy Tower.

"What's wrong with you?" he demanded, getting to his feet. They had both sobered up considerably thanks to the chilly atmosphere – so while they still felt the effects of the Firewhiskey, they were able to speak properly. And argue properly, as it was turning out.

"Nothing."

"Then – hic – why are you being such an asshole?"

"Give me my Firewhiskey."

"Not until you answer my question."

"Weasley, give me the damn Firewhiskey."

"No!"

"Dung-breath!"

"Death Eater!"

"Mudblood loving blood traitor!"

"Son of a banshee!"

And then – neither of them knew how it happened – but suddenly they were kissing. Fierce kissing, the kind that was less lips moving together and more like tongues and teeth fighting for dominance. They staggered, the bottle of Firewhiskey dropping from Ron's hands to roll away into the shadows. Draco's hands were fisted in Ron's hair while the redhead clutched at Draco's hips.

It was wonderful and terrible at once, and the moment they pulled away from each other they knew that it had been a mistake. Ron's face was flushed and Draco's lips were bruised. They each avoided the other's eyes and left without saying a word, returning to their respective dormitories to mull over what had just taken place.

The next morning, Draco woke with a splitting headache. His mouth felt like dry cotton and he couldn't remember much of what had happened the night before – though one memory stood out, clear and strong. The kiss with Ron Weasley. He couldn't seem to stop thinking about how soft Ron's hair had felt when he tugged on it, how good it had felt when Ron's teeth nipped at his lower lip. He wondered if maybe that was why he hadn't found a girl the way Ron had found Granger. Maybe the answer to the long unanswered question was that he simply wasn't into girls.

He made his way to breakfast and noticed Granger's arms entwined around Ron's waist at the Gryffindor table, her mouth close to his ear. So Ron had gotten over his little breakdown in the tower, then. The redhead was in the same shape as Draco. He looked up as Draco entered the Great Hall, their eyes meeting over the heads of the other students.

They shared a short nod. Each of them understood that what had happened the night before wouldn't be repeated to anyone.

I was really expecting to hate this while I wrote it. I mean, I don't write Draco/Ron, so I thought it would be horrible, but I think it turned out OK. I didn't want to do them as a relationship type thing because I don't see that happening. Like, at all. This though? Drunken fight escalating into a passionate kiss? ;) Yeah, that could happen. I don't like the ending though, it feels too abrupt. Please review and let me know what you thought!