Title: Not Just a River in Egypt
Author: Dark Phoenix
Summary: An idle comment forces Ron to reevaluate everything he thought he knew about Harry and Draco Malfoy. But despite all the evidence, he continues to deny anything has changed — until he can't.
Pairings: Harry/Draco and Ron/Hermione
Warning: Profanity and non-graphic sex, which may not warrant an M rating, but I'm giving it one just to be safe.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this.
~ Not Just a River in Egypt ~
"Those two are shagging each other."
Ron could pinpoint the exact moment at which the world stopped making sense. It was about halfway through their eighth year at Hogwarts, and Malfoy had been making snide comments at Harry, trying to pick a fight. And Harry had eagerly responded in kind, not about to let Malfoy get away with anything. Nothing out of the ordinary. Ron hadn't even glanced in their direction, and eventually they'd left, still bickering.
And then Susan Bones had made that comment and, all of a sudden, Ron didn't know which way was up.
She can't be serious, was his first thought. Maybe she's talking about someone else, was his second, accompanied by an incredible feeling of relief which evaporated the moment he turned his head in her direction to see her looking after Harry and Malfoy with a little smirk on her face.
Ron heard a nearby snort. "Right? Could they be any more obvious?" said Sally-Anne Perks, who was sitting next to Susan. Ron felt his mouth falling open, but he couldn't seem to hold it closed any more than he could wrap his brain around the insane and completely impossible notion of Harry and Malfoy—
He gagged, jumped up from the sofa, and ran for the boys' bathroom, certain he was about to be sick. At least his reaction to the idea was logical, even if nothing else was.
Once he was sure he was going to be okay, at least physically, he made his way through the boys' side of the dormitory to the room he shared with Harry and Malfoy (one of McGonagall's attempts at forcing inter-House unity), and flopped down on his bed. The girls were simply nuts, he decided. They were both a couple of silly Hufflepuffs, trying to find romance where it didn't exist. He could understand why the girls would be interested in romantic speculation about Harry, as he'd remained single since the beginning of the school year. Ron had tried to ask about it, but Harry had been strangely aloof and closemouthed on the subject. But the idea of him and Malfoy was absurd.
Never mind, he reassured himself. It was just a bit of silly, meaningless gossip. Harry wouldn't touch Malfoy with a fifty-foot pole. And, satisfied with his own unshakeable logic at last, Ron returned to the common room to finish his homework before Hermione could come looking for him.
For some reason, Ron couldn't seem to put the idea of Harry and Malfoy out of his head. There was no possible way it could be true, his mind insisted. But for some reason, everyone else seemed to think it was.
He couldn't understand it. Malfoy was still the same snotty little prick he'd always been. He and Harry were constantly sniping at each other, just like they always had. Sure, he'd started out the year a lot quieter and more humble, and he'd even apologized to Harry and Ron and tentatively made peace with them. And he was no longer bullying any of the other students, as far as Ron could tell. But Ron supposed it had been a little too good to last, because recently, Malfoy and Harry had started up again with their old animosity, almost as if they'd never stopped. Those two would just never get along, Ron thought. There was simply too much tension between them.
Even now, as Ron neared his dorm room, he could hear Harry and Malfoy arguing. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but it sounded intense. Every now and then, various thumping and banging sounds met Ron's ears, and he wondered exactly what was going on in there. He was almost afraid to open the door.
Gingerly, with equal parts fear and delight, Ron turned the knob and slowly began to open the door.
"I just don't understand how anyone can live in such a pigsty—" he heard Malfoy say.
"Seriously, you need to have someone remove that stick up your bum," said Harry, and Ron snorted loudly. Ha, good one, Harry, he thought. He thought he heard a gasp and the sounds of hasty movement as he pushed the door the rest of the way open.
Ron couldn't help smirking at the scene before him. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked, and couldn't quite understand why they both turned pink. They were both standing by Malfoy's bed, looking unusually rumpled. Malfoy's hair was a mess, and both of their shirts were half-buttoned and untucked from their trousers. Obviously, they must've been fighting. Malfoy even had a small, purplish bruise on his collarbone, which pleased Ron, although it seemed like a strange place to hit somebody.
"Of course not," Malfoy said stiffly, turning to the full-length mirror beside his bed and straightening his hair and clothes. "I was just leaving." And once he'd gotten himself put back together, he hurried from the room, still looking stiff and uncomfortable.
Harry must've given him quite a pounding, Ron thought proudly, turning to face his best friend. "What was that about?" he wanted to know.
"Oh, nothing, just Malfoy being Malfoy," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. "Did you need something, Ron?"
"Well, it is just about time for Quidditch practice," said Ron.
"Oh, shit, thanks for reminding me!" Harry flew into a flurry of motion beside Ron, straightening his own clothes and retrieving his Quidditch gear. "We'd better get going, then."
Ron couldn't help smiling as he grabbed his own things and hurried after Harry. It didn't surprise him at all that Harry had let himself get so distracted by Malfoy that he'd forgotten about Quidditch practice. Harry had always had a tendency to obsess over Malfoy, after all. He was just lucky he had Ron around to remind him of what was important.
Harry and Malfoy were arguing again. Slughorn had made them partners for a Potions project, and it seemed that all he'd accomplished was to increase the tension between them.
"What makes you think you're in charge, anyway?" Malfoy sniped from his spot on one of the common room sofas. "Everybody knows you're pants at Potions. Even Slughorn has stopped singing your praises since you stopped cheating."
"I wasn't cheating," said Harry, who sat beside Malfoy with a jumble of books and papers around them. "And stop trying to change the subject. You just don't want to admit your idea isn't very original."
"Like yours is any better? It figures someone who didn't even get an Outstanding O.W.L. in Potions would choose something as easy as—"
Harry dove forward and covered Malfoy's mouth with one hand before Malfoy could finish his sentence. "If you think that telling everyone my idea is going to force me to use yours, you don't know me very well," Harry growled. Beneath him, Malfoy's eyes widened, and he looked up at Harry with some emotion Ron couldn't quite identify. Probably fear, he decided. After all, Harry was practically lying on top of him.
Nearby, someone snickered, and Harry and Malfoy seemed to realize at the same moment the position they were in. Quickly, they broke apart, blushing. Ron smirked knowingly. It was pretty funny, the two of them all over each other like that where everyone could see them and get crazy, ridiculous ideas. And he knew that those ideas would be pretty repulsive to Harry, which explained his reaction easily enough.
"Well, then," Malfoy said haughtily, smoothing his robes. "If you're done manhandling me, I suggest we start thinking seriously about what potion we can make that's not something a first-year could do." He paused, eyes glittering with amusement. "And if that's too challenging for you, I'd be happy to do most of the brewing while you busy yourself with some menial task so you still feel like you're contributing."
Harry gaped at Malfoy, and for a second, Ron had the strangest feeling that he was about to laugh. "I see you've been practicing your Snape impression," he said. "Are you going to stop washing your hair, too?"
Malfoy smirked. "Weak, Potter. You can do better than that. Go on. I'll wait." He leaned back against the sofa and watched Harry, looking smug.
Harry smirked right back. "I guess the thought of you doing actual work is more than my brain can handle at the moment," he said. "Just give me a minute to get over the shock."
"It certainly doesn't take much to overtax your brain, now does it?" Malfoy practically purred, looking so pleased with himself that Ron itched to punch him.
"Oh, get a room already," someone muttered, and, once again, they both jumped, blushing, and moved apart. Ron was surprised he hadn't noticed that they'd been moving closer to each other while they were arguing.
"Yes, well," Malfoy said, standing and gathering his things, "maybe we should work on our project somewhere else so no one can steal our idea." He stalked out of the room, and Harry hurried after him.
Arrogant prick, Ron thought as he watched them go. But it was gratifying to see that Malfoy was as embarrassed and awkward about the whole situation as Harry was. Ron only wished that he could see the rest of their argument, because it was always entertaining to watch the two of them go at it.
No matter, he thought, catching Hermione's pointed look from across the room and gathering up his own things with a sigh. He could always ask Harry later how studying with Malfoy was going, and in the meantime, he had his own project to work on, and he knew Hermione was going to keep him busy for the rest of the evening. He smirked. And if she's lucky, we might actually get some work done, too, he thought slyly. Too bad Harry doesn't have anything to distract him from his own homework.
And with that thought, he hurried over to Hermione to settle himself in for the evening.
Merlin, it had been a long day, Ron thought. They had a test coming up in Transfiguration, and Hermione had kept him at the library for hours studying, even though it was a Saturday night. All he wanted was to fall into his bed and not use his brain anymore for the foreseeable future.
Low voices made him pause at the door before he could enter the room. It was Harry and Malfoy, deep in conversation. Ron couldn't hear what they were saying, but, for some reason, he felt as though he was interrupting something.
What could they possibly be talking about? he wondered. And so quietly, as though they didn't want to be overheard. The whole thing was beyond strange. After all, they certainly hadn't seemed to care about being overheard the rest of the time when they were busy hurling insults at each other, which seemed to be the only way they communicated. What could they be talking about now, this late on a Saturday?
Ron eased the door open a bit more, careful not to let it creak. He could just see Harry and Malfoy standing by Harry's bed. They were standing close together. Too close together. They were nearly touching each other. Ron wrinkled his nose.
As Ron watched, Harry said something, and Malfoy smiled, as if amused, but in a way that also suggested he'd recently been crying. Ron frowned, perplexed. What in the name of Merlin was that about? He continued to watch with increasing disbelief as Harry raised his hand to Malfoy's face, as if to tenderly brush back the long strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes.
Gaping in shock, Ron stumbled forward, falling clumsily into the room, and the pair flew apart at the intrusion.
"The next time you leave your smelly socks on my side of the room, I'm casting Incendio on them!" Malfoy declared, putting his hands on his hips.
"Well, the same goes for you!" Harry shot back, poking Malfoy hard on the shoulder with his raised hand. Ron shook his head in confusion. What was going on?
Malfoy snorted. "Nice try, Potter, but we both know you're the one who—"
"Can it, you two," said Ron. "It's time for bed."
Harry yawned. "Is it that late already?" He glared at Malfoy. "I didn't even finish my essay for Potions. I guess if I didn't have this prat hanging around all the time, whining about where I put my socks, I'd have time to get stuff done."
"You would if you'd just pick up after yourself," Malfoy said snippily, and he turned and flounced off towards the bathroom.
Harry rolled his eyes. "What a prick!" he said loudly, for Malfoy's benefit. "I hope you and Hermione managed to get more work done today than I did." He started changing into his pajamas, leaving Ron standing there dumbfounded.
"Oh, yeah," Ron finally managed to say. "My brain needs a break. It's definitely been overworked today." That's right, he thought. He'd obviously strained his brain with all that studying, and it had made him see things that weren't there. And he definitely needed a good, long rest if it was making him imagine some kind of bizarre, tender moment between Harry and Malfoy.
Ron breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, it had almost looked like Susan Bones had known what she was talking about. He grabbed his own pajamas and started getting changed himself. Nothing out of the ordinary was going on, he told himself. All he needed was a good night's sleep, and tomorrow morning, he would be able to laugh at how crazy he was. Satisfied, he climbed into his bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
"You'd tell me if there was something major going on in your life, right?"
Harry turned, startled, at the question, and Ron wished he could take it back the instant the words left his mouth. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that Harry and Malfoy couldn't possibly be romantically involved, his brain simply wouldn't let go of the idea. A part of him had wanted to ask Harry ever since that strange scene in their dorm room the week before, just so Harry could laugh about what a ridiculous idea it was and Ron could finally be reassured that it really was ridiculous and let it go. However, the rest of him was afraid that it would turn out to be true, and he'd kept his mouth shut, until he finally ended up blurting it out anyway.
And now, Harry was standing there, smiling nervously at Ron, filling him with a sense of dread. "Um, of course I would," he said finally. "Why do you ask?"
Ron shrugged, trying to appear casual. "No reason," he said lamely. "It's just that . . . the girls keep talking about you being single, especially Ginny, and, well . . . I guess I kind of always figured you'd be my brother-in-law one day, and . . . " Ron hoped he was making at least some sense. After all, it wasn't exactly like he could just come out and say, So, Harry, I heard you're shagging Malfoy. Is that true?
That damned guarded look had crept onto Harry's face as Ron spoke, and for a moment, he was certain that Harry would shut him down once again the way he had every time Ron or anyone else had asked about his love life. But then, Harry's face relaxed, and he sighed. "All right, I guess I should tell you," he said. "You are my best friend, after all." Harry smiled, and Ron smiled back, feeling relieved and nervous at the same time.
There was a long pause before Harry started speaking again. "I'm, uh . . . I kind of discovered recently that I'm, well . . . I'm not really into girls so much." Harry let out a breath, and Ron did as well.
"Right," said Ron, not knowing what else to say to that. "So . . . are there any guys you're interested in?" Please say no, he begged silently. Or, at least, anyone but Malfoy.
"No, not anyone in particular," Harry answered, and relief flooded through Ron.
He patted Harry on the back. "Well, even if we won't be brothers-in-law, you're still part of the family," he said. "Mum will probably be a little heartbroken about you not marrying Ginny, but you know she still thinks of you as a son no matter what."
Harry beamed at him, and Ron thought his eyes looked a little shiny. Without warning, he threw his arms around Ron, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, Ron," he said. "I've wanted to tell you, but I've also been afraid to. I guess I haven't given you enough credit, but you really are the best friend I could ask for."
Ron hugged him back fiercely. He'd meant everything he'd said, and he was happy that Harry had finally trusted him enough to confide in him. And he couldn't help feeling relieved that there was nothing going on between Harry and Malfoy, because wouldn't Harry have told him if there was? Ron thought he would have. He didn't know how he would've reacted, but he was sure Harry would've told him — it wouldn't really be that much more of a shock than learning Harry was gay, he reasoned. So now that everything was cleared up, all he had left to worry about was schoolwork and their upcoming N.E.W.T.s.
Ron hummed to himself as he made his way back to his dorm room. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and he'd been out with Hermione for most of the morning. They'd asked Harry to join them, but he'd turned them down, saying he needed to get caught up on some homework, and that had been enough of an excuse for Hermione. And Ron had to admit he wanted to spend some time alone with Hermione anyway.
It was barely noon, and they'd planned to spend the whole day out, but the weather had taken a sudden, nasty turn, and most of the students had hurried back to the castle before it could get any worse. Ron and Hermione had been about to go get lunch, and Ron, figuring Harry could use a break by now, went to rescue him from certain boredom. Ron smiled, feeling content, the way he had been ever since Harry's revelation and the reassurance that there really was nothing going on between him and Malfoy after all.
The door was closed, most likely so that Harry could study in peace, without interruptions. Ron put his hand on the knob, then paused as low, rhythmic thumping sounds met his ears, as if someone was jumping on the bed. He frowned quizzically, then opened the door.
Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes, and for several moments, Ron simply stood frozen, staring openmouthed at the scene in front of him. Harry and Malfoy were both on Harry's bed. Malfoy had his back to Ron, but even so, Ron didn't think he'd ever seen quite so much of Malfoy in his life. Ron stared, transfixed, at the image of a very naked Malfoy lying on top of an equally naked Harry, shagging him at a furious pace while Harry writhed beneath him, his eyes closed in ecstasy and his lips forming the words Yes, oh yes, oh yes.
In his shock, it took Ron a minute to notice they were making no sounds but the thumping of the bed on the floor, and he realized they must've cast a silencing charm. A part of Ron's brain was telling him he should leave, close the door, and pretend he hadn't seen anything, but before he could move, Harry opened his eyes and saw him, his mouth opening in a silent gasp of horror. He saw Malfoy pause and turn around, narrowing his eyes at Ron.
The spell was broken, and Ron turned and ran from the room, having just enough presence of mind to slam the door shut behind him so that no one else could see Harry like that. For Ron's part, the image seemed to have burned itself onto his eyes, and he couldn't seem to see anything else. He ran blindly back to the common room and flung himself onto a chair, where he sat, numb with shock and shuddering with disgust.
"Ron? Ron! What's wrong? Ron?" He slowly became aware of Hermione's voice above him, and he looked up to meet her worried gaze.
"Harry," he said dazedly, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Harry . . . and — and Malfoy." He dropped his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes as if hoping that would make the image go away.
"Ohhh . . . " Hermione sank down onto the arm of the chair and began rubbing his back consolingly. "And you found out just now?"
Ron nodded and turned to bury his face in her shoulder. The whole idea was repulsive enough, but to have seen Malfoy on top of Harry like that . . . He shuddered again.
"You mean you didn't know?" Ron looked up in surprise at Parkinson's incredulous voice. "But they were so obvious! The way they started up their silly little rivalry again after months of getting along. I suppose they thought they had us fooled with that ridiculous act of theirs!" She sniffed disdainfully, shaking her head.
"Of course he knew," Hermione said before Ron could open his mouth. "He's just been in denial." She gazed down at Ron sympathetically.
Ron stared at Parkinson, unblinking. "You knew about them?" he said. How could she be so calm? "Don't you care? I thought you fancied Malfoy! And now he's—" He couldn't bring himself to say the words.
Parkinson rolled her eyes. "That was ages ago," she said dismissively. "And it was mostly for show anyway. I always knew he was bent, and I've had my suspicions about him and Potter for years."
Ron sank back in the chair, defeated. "Did everybody know?"
"Of course not!" Hermione said quickly. Around the room, people were nodding, but they stopped at Hermione's words and tried to pretend they hadn't been paying attention to the conversation.
"Well, now what do we do?" Ron wanted to know.
"Now, I think we should go to lunch," said Hermione. "And then later, you and Harry can have a much needed chat." She hopped up and extended a hand to Ron, pulling him up off the chair. Ron let her lead him out of the room. A part of him wanted to protest; for some reason it just seemed wrong to do something so normal after what he'd just witnessed. "Besides, I heard they're serving pulled pork sandwiches," Hermione continued, as if sensing his hesitation.
Ron could practically feel his eyes light up at the thought. "Well, I am hungry," he conceded, following her through the portrait hole. "But you're right about the chat." He shivered slightly, not looking forward to that one bit, and wondering just how long he could possibly put it off.
"It's really not that big of a deal," Hermione said crisply as they entered the Great Hall and took their seats at the Gryffindor table. "Malfoy hasn't even been that bad this year."
Ron looked at her skeptically. "But he and Harry have been at each other's throats for the past month," he said.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please. That was just their lame attempt to hide the fact that they're shagging each other," she said, and Ron choked on his sandwich.
"Do you have to say it like that?" he spluttered. "I'm trying to eat here!"
Hermione snorted, and the rest of the meal passed uneventfully. Ron couldn't help noticing that neither Harry nor Malfoy made an appearance. When they'd eaten their fill, he and Hermione made their way back up to the eighth-year dormitory, and, after a nudge from Hermione, Ron headed for his own room to see if Harry was still there. This time he knocked on the door before he opened it, loudly and deliberately.
"Come in," Harry said before Ron had a chance to hurry off and tell Hermione that no one was there. Ron hesitantly opened the door and stepped into the room, leaning against the doorframe.
Harry was alone in the room, but Ron could hear the sounds of the shower running, telling him that Malfoy was close by. When Ron entered the room, Harry stood up, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"So, I guess you know now," he said after a moment.
Ron nodded silently. If they could get through this without anyone actually saying the words shagging or Malfoy, especially in that order, so much the better.
Harry was looking at the floor. "Are we — are we still friends?"
"Of course," said Ron, taking a step forward. "I meant everything I said before. I just—" He struggled to find the right words to express himself. "—Malfoy?"
Harry shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "He's not that bad once you get to know him," he said.
Ron wasn't sure about that, but decided not to mention it. "I should warn you that no one is fooled by your little pretending-to-hate-each-other act," he said. "Except for me, apparently."
For some reason, Harry reddened, looking more awkward than ever. "Oh," he said, fidgeting slightly. "That's not exactly an act."
Before Ron could ask him what he meant, the bathroom door opened, and Malfoy entered the room, drying his hair with a towel. He casually strolled past them to his side of the room, then froze. Grabbing his wand, he spun around to glare at Harry. Ron frowned. Surely Malfoy had seen him earlier? Why keep up the act?
"I warned you," was all he said before turning around to Incendio the pair of Harry's socks that lay across his nightstand.
Ron looked over at Harry in surprise, but Harry just smirked back at Malfoy, unconcerned. As they watched, Harry stood and crossed the room, his wand drawn. Ron held his breath as Harry cast a Jelly Legs curse at Malfoy. But before Malfoy could fall to the floor, he pounced on Harry, both of them falling onto Malfoy's bed in a tangle of arms and legs.
"Ron," came Harry's strangled voice as they wrestled on the bed, "can we talk about this later? This isn't a good time."
Ron nodded wordlessly, backing slowly towards the door. Just before he made his escape, he saw Malfoy sink his teeth into Harry's earlobe, and Harry let out a yelp and moaned, "Oh, Draco."
With a sigh, Ron reentered the common room and dropped down on a couch beside Hermione. She looked up in surprise.
"Where's Harry? Did you talk to him already?" she wanted to know.
Ron looked up at the ceiling. "Hermione," he said at last. "Those two are shagging each other."
~ fin ~
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