Yearbook signing

Summary: In an alternative universe, Ron Weasley, recently finishing his junior year in high school, finds a mysterious signature in his yearbook and the revealing of two secrets. His Wicca religion, and his sexuality. Ron/Draco slash

Disclaimer: I own my disfigurations of the canon, not the actual thing.

Warning: Slash, fire and ice style. If you have an issue with that, why are you even here? Go soak your head, you little bugger.

A/N – allieweasley lives! And she's got another one of her RD oneshots! Run for your liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiives! Oh, and feedback is most appreciated. Read and enjoy!

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The yearbook cover this year was really hideous. Ron Weasley took note of this factor as he observed his yearbook with bored, blue irises. It was now late afternoon, and the boy lay in a heap on his bed. His coppery, sun-kissed hair was ruffled and slightly frizzy from the humidity, and his brown, freckled arms stood out boldly against the soft neutral cottons of his sheets and bedding.

Last year, the cover had at least followed the theme (innovation) but this year it was a complete flop. Of course, he would never admit that to Hermione Granger's face. She would not exactly take it nicely if you insulted "her work".

He remembered what she wrote in his yearbook. Please do get your ass up during the summer, something something something, and then she wrote something like, You see, Ronald, no matter how talented one is hard work is the crucial dynamic to one's success, and yada yada yada.

Ron had found out she liked him about a year ago and had freaked. But they were friends now, and she was now ogling some bum in the senior year, Cedric Diggory.

As he flipped through the pages, there were much more interesting comments to find.

Ron – LIGHTNING STRIKES, and dude, it's me!! . HAGS but I better see u everyday this summer., & don't u dare throw this yearbook out 2 like last year. or you shall die under my command!! MWaHaHaHaHa!! XP

That one was from his best friend, Harry. Harry Potter. Hermione told him that he really shouldn't worry so much about him.

weasel-measles XD! HAGS, remember, sushi forevrrrr!!! . hearts

That one was from Lavender Brown. The sushi was from a private joke on the bus ride from school one afternoon somewhere in March.

OMG, coolio-est times in algebra + Spanish. 69!!!! O, & get a fucking pencil next year, will ya?

That one was from Seamus Finnigan. Yes, Ron had asked to borrow a pencil from him almost everyday. And he never really returned them.

Ron came to the sudden realization that everybody revealed their insane and crazy sides when it came to yearbook signings. He frowned. God damn it, he was too tired at the moment, and his room had no AC so it was clearly not a convenient time for hyper activating. Ron quickly flipped to another blank page towards the back and found mostly signatures. He smiled. Relief!

Ron, …fuck u. Blaise Zabini

Pansy Parkinson, PS …ur hottt

Zacharias Smith

HAGS, Dean Thomas

Cedric Diggory

Hannah Abbot, I hope you have a great summer.

I know your secret…s. Both of them. And I could reveal them to the world if you're not careful. My screen name is polishedpoison, contact me at five.

It was signed, guess who.

It took a few moments for the scrawled inscription to sink in to his foggy mind, but once it dawned on Ron's face he screamed out the first thing that came to mind.

"Wh-what the FUCK!" He cried, following a loud thump and a dazed, gangly redhead sprawled on the floor.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Secrets, secrets, secrets," Ron muttered softly to himself, contemplating. He sat at the family's abnormally large kitchen table, chugging down as much soda as he could swallow. Letting out a loud burp, Ron continued to think about his options.

"Secrets, secrets, secrets. How the hell—how can this guy—oh, what the hell…" Ron trailed off as he gulped down some more soda from his can, crumpled it up in his hand, and dumped it in the trash. He let out a shuddering breath and buried his long fingers in his flaming hair, quite ready to pull out those strands in frustration. "Oh hell, why am I getting so worked up?" Ron demanded from himself. "Why would I care?"

Because you do.

"Secrets, secrets, secrets," Ron said again. "What the fuck! I don't have any secrets!"

Oh, you'd like to think that.

Ron moodily glared at the taunting computer screen in the other room. The monitor stared back it him happily, the cheeky little prick. "Don't have secrets," He said to himself once more, almost desperately even.

Wicca.

Ron's jaw tightened noticeably.

And that's not even the worst of it.

Ron slammed his fist on the table, and the force practically sent vibrations shooting through the entire room.

"My God, Ron! Stop being such a drama queen!" A feminine voice snapped from behind him, followed by a sharp tug of his hair at the back of Ron's head and a fourteen-year-old redhead opening the snack cupboard.

"You're lucky you're a girl, Ginny," Ron said darkly, rubbing the back of his head.

"Whatever's bothering you, you better get it over with," Ginny said, unwrapping a diet bar. "Because I'd like to live without the fear of this house collapsing on me."

"You think you're the queen of the world just because you're not a freshman anymore," Ron said. "And nothing's…bothering me…" He added in a much less confident-sounding tone, trailing off to nothing.

"Of course not," Ginny said breezily. She took another bite of her diet bar. "Just get it over with, okay? I want Mum in a good mood for shopping, I'd like to get a new outfit for the Sunday Service. Don't ruin it for me." And with that note, she left the kitchen.

A heavy silence, then a heavy sigh. Ron slumped in his chair. Ginny had no idea of the irony, because while she was attempting to get his problems done and over with, she just reminded him why there were problems in the first place. Of all times, why did she feel the need to remind him of Sunday Service now?

Sunday Service.

Christianity.

Which does not mix, at all, with Ron's problems.

Your problems are your secrets.

"Oh, shut up," Ron said moodily, and he finally gave up. Striding over to the computer, he signed in to his AIM and waited for five o'clock to come.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

4:36 pm

Ron was having a nice chat with Harry. His friend's long complaints about his family, which were sort of amusing to say the least, almost got Ron's mind off who he was waiting for. Almost.

brooding-lightening: fucking dad isa way again, mum is working working working n im stuck inside wit nothing 2do. Dudley just lyks 2 come here n make fun of me, i no. im certain. wtf did i ever do 2 deserve this, horsey aunt and potato uncle, wat do they do all day except pretend 2 watch over me for mypa rents? dont even no y they bothrr, unless mum is paying them. wtf, she pays them? I need munny, munny munny munny munny. so my rents abandon me, huzzah! might be going emo soon, if i didnt hate black and i liner so much …wassup with u?

r0aringr0n: m okay. i got an idea, give duds a wedgie and run for it.

brooding-lightening: hes as big as a hippo!!!!1

r0aringr0n: run for it.

brooding-lightening: id like 2 live

r0aringr0n: yeahh, so u cant be emo. even if ur sn sayz otherwise

brooding-lightening: my sn izznt emo!

r0aringr0n: sure, whatevs. hey listen

brooding-lightening: gtg, petunias calling for something.

brooding-lightening has signed off.

4:44 pm

Ron had added polishedpoison, whoever that was, to his addresses. He was also in the midst of witnessing an argument, also faintly amusing, between Luna Lovegood and his sister, who was on the computer upstairs.

Luna: Hello Ron.

Theredrockstarangel: dont u dare change the subject, luna. ron, get the hell outta here!

r0aringr0n: its a free country, i can do what i want

Luna: Ginny, it wasn't me who was talking about you like that.

Theredrockstarangel: yeahh, but u didnt do anything to stop it! who r u 2 talk about my

Luna: All girls talk behind each other's backs about anything and everything, but I don't understand why it seems so offensive. It happens all the time, everyday.

Theredrockstarangel: STOP TYPING SO FAST!!

Ron chortled softly.

4:59 pm

r0aringr0n: it's me. now who r u?

And Ron waited.

5:00 pm

polishedpoison: Hello. cough nice screenname

r0aringr0n: ha ha. tell me who u r. do i no u?

polishedpoison: ur lack of gramar skillz r rreally bugging me

r0aringr0n: Fine, better?

polishedpoison: Yes, thank you.

r0aringr0n: Humph. I'll be typing slower and it's all your fault. Who. The. Hell. ARE YOU?!

polishedpoison: Right now, we don't need to establish who am I. We ought to establish…

r0aringr0n: Yes?

polishedpoison: who you are.

Ron stopped typing.

polishedpoison: I know both your secrets, Ron. I can't understand why you would hide them, they make you an individual. You seem just like another one of those shallow jocks when you hide them like you do.

r0aringr0n: I don't have secrets.

polishedpoison: Of course you don't.

r0aringr0n: Fine, I went into the girl's bathroom when I was seven.

polishedpoison: Amusing, but not a secret.

r0aringr0n: And I had cherry tart all over my face.

polishedpoison: I don't even want to know.

r0aringr0n: I also thought Mean Girls was a good movie.

polishedpoison: Are you just going to pour out your entire life story to me? I could use that for blackmail, you know.

r0aringr0n: I'm proving to you something. Those are secrets. Whatever u no arent secretz. wtf do u no anyway???

polishedpoison: Ahem.

r0aringr0n: Fine. Whatever. Ran out of patience. Now, what do you know?

polishedpoison: You tell me, gay boy.

Ron stopped typing.

The redhead stopped typing, and sat staring in horror at the computer screen. Long, freckled fingers froze, poised over the keyboard and practically shaking. He felt cold, in a terrible moment of cold, horrific shock. Because if polishedpoison knew that, then he surely must know—

Oh no.

polishedpoison: You've gotten awful quiet, haven't you? Tell me, how many boys have you kissed?

Numbly, Ron moved his fingers, each key hit making a mini echo that rebounded dully in his ears. He sent a glance behind him, just to make sure no one was there to spy on him. When his answer was said and done, he read over it, and his jaw dropped. Because only God would know why he said what he said.

r0aringr0n: Harry when he was drunk, went out with this dude from my camp, and almost got raped by this ice cream dude on a cruise in the Bahamas.

polishedpoison: How sad. And pathetic. Not sexy at all.

r0aringr0n: SHUT THE FUCK UP FERRET!!

This time, it was Draco Malfoy's turn to be in shock.

It took a full two minutes for a response to be entered.

polishedpoison: Oh ho! So, you really did have a sneaking suspicion of who I am. Or, perhaps…you just hoped…?

r0aringr0n: I had no idea it was you. It just burst out of me. But now that you've confirmed it, it's official. You nasty.

polishedpoison: Oh?

r0aringr0n: And desperate.

polishedpoison: Highly unlikely.

r0aringr0n: Well, wonderful. You know my "secret". So I'll be going now, I hope I never have to talk to you again.

polishedpoison: Wicca.

Ron froze. He stopped typing.

Ron also scowled. What was it with all the freezing? He could use a little heat here and there.

r0aringr0n: What?

polishedpoison: You're a gay boy, and a Wicca, living in the typical stereotypical Christian family. And apparently, you also like cherry tarts and Mean Girls.

r0aringr0n: And dicks. Little ones, they're cute.

Ron felt like slapping himself. Which he did, hard in the cheekbone. What on earth made him type that? What was wrong with him? He could practically hear the merciless laughter coming from Draco Malfoy. That little son-of-a-bitch. Ron slapped himself once again, for good measure.

polishedpoison: You'll be sourly disappointed then, I'm afraid.

r0aringr0n: Oh, it's okay, I guess I can deal with it.

polishedpoison: You guess?

r0aringr0n: LoL, I'll try my best.

What was the matter with him? He felt like he'd been taking over, and whoever was using his body and typing through his fingers was one sadistic little fool, that was all Ron was going to say.

Almost as if he had read his mind, Draco Malfoy responded.

polishedpoison: It's probably your animal spirit guide or something. It's trying to guide you in the right direction. Which is, in fact, in bed. With me.

r0aringr0n: Yeah? And what's your animal spirit guide trying to get you to do?

polishedpoison: It wants some answers from you, gay boy.

r0aringr0n: Questions?

polishedpoison: Ah, yes. What is your opinion about a proper warm-up? At least two hands?

Ron found himself bursting into laughter, alarming two twin figures entering the dim family room. The two redhead figures squinted at Ron, scrutinizing, then they raised their eyebrows at each other, nodded, and then walked up to Ron with the same two identical predatory gleams in their eyes.

"'Sup, Ronniekins?" Fred said cheerfully. Ron yelped, completely taken aback from their presence, and made a clambering attempt to block their view of the computer screen.

"What are you doing here? Get away!" Ron said, in a slightly more high-pitched voice then usual. He glared at them as his fingers shook, splayed in a criss-cross pattern over the bright light of the monitor. Already he could feel his ears warming up. "This is private!"

"Aw, come on Ronnie!" George said, grinning mischievously. He made a grab at one of Ron's wrists, but George's hand was promptly slapped away quite viciously.

"Ooh, this must really be something, eh George?"

"Eh, Fred."

"Who you talking to?"

"It's a girl, isn't it?"

"Ronnie's all flustered over a girl!"

"Hermione, ain't it?"

"No, George, it must be that girl, Loony Lovegood."

"Ah, Romantic last name, that what draws you in?"

"Corny actually, but we can deal with it."

"What about those Patil twins, though?"

"A threesome! You naughty, naughty boy…"

"SHUT THE FUCKING HELL UP!" Ron roared, flinging his fist at them both before rushing back to cover the screen from their curious eyes. "Get away from me! This isn't your business! Away, away, away, away, away, away, away, away, away—"

There was an enormous shuffle and scrambling as the twins put their best efforts into prying Ron's hand from the computer screen. They nearly succeeded, as small, typed letter slowly came into view…

"Fred, George! What do you two think you're doing?" Mrs. Weasley suddenly snapped from the kitchen. In an instant Ron was released, huffing and puffing with his nostrils flared angrily like a bull. The twins smiled nervously as their mother.

"Now Mum…"

"Just messin' with the Ronniekins…"

"You two are already grounded!" Mrs. Weasley practically hissed, stepping dangerously into the carpeted floor. "And now you continue acting like you still have full privilege! Double the punishment! Ron, are you okay? Who's that you're talking to there?"

"NOBODY!" Ron shouted, making his mother jump. He immediately realized his mistake and added quickly, "I mean, it's private business, Mum. Sorry. Ahem." He smiled wanly, hopefully.

"And they were trying to nose into it, like they own the world or something?" Mrs. Weasley said accusingly. "Well, you two know what that means," and suddenly a bright smile lifted her face.

"Cleaning the bathrooms?" George said, complainingly. "The dirty toilets—"

"And the sinks?—"

"And the bathtubs?—"

"Maybe she means the laundry," Fred muttered to his twin, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"Oh crud, that's like, five loads a day!"

"Five loads a day, thirty-five a week—"

"A hundred-forty a month—"

"A thousand six hundred eighty a year—"

"Ooh dear," George said, gritting his teeth.

"Why don't you two help me with dinner?" Mrs. Weasley said, grabbing the backs of their shirts and dragging them into the kitchen. The twins muttered things like, "I really hate having a big family" and "Oh holy God's balls!" and other nonsense, which only earned them a rap on the head each for foul language. Ron smirked at them when he was sure they were looking, then looked back at the screen for Draco's response.

polishedpoison: Hello? Hellooooo… Are you there? Do not tell me you've abandoned this already. Pathetic Weasel. Helloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

r0aringr0n: I'm here. My brothers were being dickheads and jackasses.

polishedpoison: Oh. Well then, your behavior was highly intolerable and don't do it next time or I might just think that you're not worth my time.

r0aringr0n: You wouldn't.

polishedpoison: I would, unless you convince me otherwise. Your answer?

r0aringr0n: Two hands are satisfactory, but the more the merrier, as they all say.

polishedpoison: Well, well, well, who would've thought all this from someone like you?

Ron grinned. This was the start of something amazing, he could feel it.

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(Two and a half months later…)

"Hermione," Harry said feebly as Hermione lectured him about each and every subject on his new schedule. "I mean, now that we're sophomores and those other suckers going into Junior have to take the SAT, don't you think—"

"Slacker," Hermione spat out at him. "Pitiful schedule, Harry, it hardly shows you're thinking about the future. And absolutely not, we should work harder now that we've finished our SATs. I've heard that some of the best colleges and universities don't even accept perfect SAT scores, it's passion and the energy to push harder that truly counts. So that is exactly what we will do, Harry, push harder. Find passions and excel in them, find your true self now that we're in our last two years of high school…where do you think Ron is?"

"No idea," Harry said, forlornly and taking back his schedule. He stared at it for a moment, then shrugged, folded it up, and stuffed it in his pocket. "So let's look at him and not talk about college, eh?"

"You can't avoid it, Harry!" Hermione snapped, tossing her hair away from her face. Nevertheless, she followed him up a short flight of stairs and down a short hallway, where students everywhere we screaming and hugging and saying hellos this way and that. "Colleges look for good high school students. Jobs look for good college students. It all counts!"

"Uh huh," Harry said, waving to a couple of people and thinking about how much he would like a great big sugar drink. Or maybe two. Or maybe three. Make that four. Sighing, he stopped in front of the boy's bathroom. "Well, I gotta take a leak, if you don't mind, so—"

"Harry, you don't just—!"

"Mmpphft—!"

Harry opened the bathroom door, and he could not believe what he saw.

There was his best friend in the world, Ron Weasley, very much a boy, grinding up against his not-so-much-of-a-best-friend, Draco Malfoy, also very much a boy. The two were kissing heatedly, tongues in plain view and battling, while Draco's leg snaked up slowly to Ron's waist, then he let his hips roll in Ron's smoothly. A small, almost whine escaped and echoed lightly through the bathroom space.

Harry felt like his eyes burn out and turn to ashes.

On the bright side, however, Hermione had finally shut up.

"I-I…I d-don't need to pee anymore," He mumbled softly, still staring as if he could not take his eyes on the pair that seemed to be enjoying themselves too immensely to take notice of his words. Harry stepped back and let the door shut in front of him, eyes still gaping like a fish.

"I think I've gone blind."

"Harry," Hermione breathed out. She cleared her throat, blinked a couple of times, and spoke again. "Harry," and this time with more firmness, "I believe—no…um, it is not uncommon—ugh, there shall be no one—no…uh…" Hermione was then left speechless, confused at herself because she had never really thought of herself as someone who babbled.

"Public bathrooms are evil. I'll go pee in the bushes from now on."

"Oh fuck," Hermione muttered, subconsciously, and when she realized the meaning of what she had just said, she was horrified. "I mean, no! I…forget it." She then set to frowning, quite piqued at herself.

"I'd always thought there was something queer about the way Ron would smile."

"Let's go to class," Hermione said weakly.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A/N - That's just about the worst ending, yes. I need your help, reviewers, if you could inspire me to create a better ending, it would make me so happy. So feedback anyone?

Oh, and one last note. If any of you are Christians, I'm not saying that you have to hate gays and Wicca. I'm just saying that very strongly Christian people usually do, I'm not trying to support a stereotype, I just mentioned it lightly for the purpose of the story. So I just thought I should mention that before I get complaints. n-n