Author's Note: Setting is 4th year, just after selection of the Tri-Wizard Tournament Champions.

WARNING TO OUR REGULAR READERS! This story will be much more graphic and sexually explicit than other stories we have published (Could not get the M+ rating to register when starting this story!)

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Ron leaned on the railing of the high bridge that spanned the distance between the castle and the owlry at Hogwarts. He was in a right foul mood and he was firm in his belief that he had every right to be pissed off. Every right in the world…!

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, his supposed best friend; what a glory hound he was! He had all the fame and glory a bloke could ever want, and what did he do? He goes and puts his name into the Goblet of Fire to get chosen as a Tri-wizard champion! He tried to deny that he liked the limelight, the glory and the fame, but getting chosen as a never-before fourth for the Tri-wizard Cup just intensified all the attention Harry was getting. Maybe Draco Malfoy was right, he constantly was saying that Potter refused to stay out of the focus of the public eye and just loved all that attention.

He glared down into the gorge, eyes focused on the stream far below that glimmered in the sunlight as it merrily danced its way down the riverbed. Someone watching might have thought that Ron believed as if it was the fault of the water somehow that he was so pissed off and that it could put the situation to rights again. He wasn't speaking to Harry, hadn't had a civil word with him since the prat had put his name in that cup. And he damned sure had no intention of doing so. All Harry said was how he was innocent, like Ron was supposed to believe that…?

Unfortunately Hermione wasn't speaking with Ron either. She didn't have a clue as to why he was so angry and he was just tired of explaining it to her. He'd tried to explain time and time again but she kept coming up with the same arguments; why would Harry do such a thing? Ron simply didn't have the patience to keep trying to explain, so he felt like right now he really didn't have any friends at school. It'd already been over a week since he'd talked in a civil tone to either of them and it had been a damned lonesome time.

His brothers, Fred and George, weren't any help at all. The twins were being absolute prats; they thought the entire situation was a lark and kept finding ways to make money off it all. And they were constantly reminding EVERYONE that Harry was not only the Chosen One, but a TriWizard Champion… and laughing at Ron every chance they had.

The worst of it all was that Victor Krum… at one time he'd completely idolized the man; thought he all but walked on water, with his Quidditch expertise and skill level. It hadn't taken very long for him to realize that he was just a teenager just like Ron. He had noticed that after only two days at the castle that pumpkin-headed Krum was following Hermione all over the damned place. The Bulgarian's constant pursuit of the girl that Ron hoped to someday date or maybe even marry had really gotten on his nerves…! He had a poster of Krum on his wall at home; he was going to rip it down and shred it when he got back, and then burn the bits left over.

"Excuse, please…?" A smooth male voice with a Bulgarian accent spoke near at hand.

Ron ignored him a moment, but decided better of it. If the speaker were Victor Krum, he'd gladly take the chance to take out his anger on someone…! He turned; tensing to throw a punch but saw immediately it was not Victor Krum. Victor was dark, swarthy, and thickly muscled but this young man, who seemed to be the same age as Victor, was blonde, tall, and had light brown eyes. He was muscular, yes, all the Durmstrang students who had come were muscular, but this fellow was strong without looking overly thick in the same Neanderthal way that Krum did. Ron didn't care; he was from Durmstrang School and therefore a great and easy target to snipe at. "What the bloody hell do you want?" He growled, scowling at him.

"I am seeing you alone out here much, lately." The young man said; his smile showed he was completely unruffled by Ron's attempt to intimidate him and have him leave. He moved to the rail as well, leaning on it with his own elbow about a foot from Ron's. "Always alone, you are."

"Who gives a bloody damn? What business is it of yours? Maybe I like to be alone." Ron growled, but with less vehemence, turning back to stare out at the gorge as well.

"I am alone too, but I am not liking to be." The Bulgarian said with a touch of sadness. "I have no friends here. Karkaroff said they were not worthy to come…"

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" Ron asked crossly. He wasn't really in much of a mood to be civil to anyone.

The Bulgarian straightened from the rail, giving a soft and reluctant sigh. "I think now is not a good time. You are in a foul mood. I am not wanting to be making you angrier; I think I will leave you…"

Ron realized this Durmstrang student was offering him only a hand in friendship, to have it slapped away by Ron's verbal assaults. He had no one to talk to, and if he chased this bloke off he'd have no one at all. This guy was better than nothing; he couldn't talk to Neville or anyone in Gryffindor right now and he was slowly going mad. He throttled his anger under control and sighed. "No… no, hang on…" he said, though he remained where he was, staring out at the water. "It's okay. I'm not all that pissed off, and… well, hell. I'd like to talk to someone for a while."

The Bulgarian introduced himself with a smart formal bow. "I am Gregor. Gregor Ptriov." He said.

"Ronald Weasley." He answered, glancing at Gregor, forcing a smile.

The Bulgarian gave him a very friendly and open smile in return as he leaned on the rail once more. "I am missing my school, Durmstrang." Gregor said, his tone having a clear tone of melancholy and homesickness. "It is so strange, here… your country…"

"Tell me what you miss about Durmstrang." Ron suggested. "Maybe it will help you to feel better." He was more than willing to allow himself to be distracted from his own situation, which only made him angrier by the day.

"Your country, it is so warm and all fog and wet… Durmstrang is not. It is bright, and crisp, and cold. We have new snow this time of year and white is all over the trees and world… We have large castle but different from yours; girls do not school with boys, not sleep in same castle. Girls have their own castle, towers to sleep in. I have three mates I room with, and all are left behind; only I am here…"

"Do you have Quidditch in your school?" He asked.

Ptriov chuckled, a deep throaty sound that was almost infectious. "Yes, of course we have Quidditch. Where else did Krum learn fly so well? He practices on our teams for Quidditch all the time."

"Krum." Ron growled, one hand closing in a fist and his body tensing. His body language was not lost on Gregor. "He's a self-important prat." Ron grumbled, thinking of the argument he'd had with Hermione that had sent him to the bridge to sulk today.

He had seen Krum a lot in the past week, but now he was sure the Bulgarian seeker was very interested in a relationship with Hermione. He showed up everywhere, making excuses to be in the same room with Hermione even though his little entourage of five or six giggling girls from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons was always following him about. He always made a point to say something to Hermione too, and Ron hated the look of interest she always wore when listening to the idiot. He hated Krum because he had interest for Hermione, and because she seemed to be interested in him. Since Ron hadn't had the nerve to ask her out yet, it made him angrier than ever that Krum seemed not to have any such problems. Just this morning, in fact, Ron had warned Krum off and told him to get lost and leave Hermione alone. Hermione had overheard and blown up at him, then stormed off to the girl's tower where she knew he couldn't follow. He'd tried to get her to come down but she just wouldn't answer, so he'd come out here to think… and sulk.

"You are not liking him?"

"No. I don't like him." He grumbled.

"I am not liking him either since he joined the National team. He has become… how do you say…? Arrogant..."

Ron only grunted his agreement.

"But I am liking to fly, and I am liking Quidditch. I saw plaque in school… you are not on team, but you have brothers on team?" Gregor said, gazing out at the sky.

"Yeah, the twins. George and Fred are fifth year, and they're beaters." He said, sighing. "I haven't tried out for the team yet. I love to play, though. I practice every chance I get. Ron found he was beginning to relax, warming to the conversation more than the Bulgarian himself. It was just so damned nice to be able to talk to someone without worrying about being judged. And he'd been so lonesome this year…

"It is glorious, to fly." Gregor agreed.

"You have a favorite Quidditch team, Gregor?" Ron asked.

"Yes, but… you will be laughing at me." He said as if this was a common occurrence. "My friends all watch Krum playing and think I am fool not to want to watch too."

"Why would I laugh?" Ron asked.

"Is not Bulgarian team I am liking… Is underdog team, but will win; will win soon…"

"So who are they? Spill it already." Ron couldn't help but half-grin at this guy's vehemence over his favorite team.

"Chudley Cannons." He said with a half-grimace.

"That's my favorite team!" Ron said immediately to Gregor's surprise, his anger forgotten for the moment, quite enthusiastic. The conversation between the seventeen-year-old Bulgarian and the fourteen-year-old Englishman quickly became a discussion of their favorite players and their moves on the Quidditch pitch.

After that afternoon chatting with Gregor, Ron found himself wandering to the bridge every day. And to his delight, his new friend showed up every day.

The first day they chatted on the bridge, but the second they wandered through the great halls as Ron showed him the sights of the castle. Their conversations always drifted to Quidditch somehow; but Ron was quite all right with that. It was a subject he knew quite a lot about, and was rarely wrong. He knew the players, their stats, and many other details; and Gregor seemed quite interested in learning and listening to what he had to say.

He found it soothed his wounded pride and made him feel better overall. He found that with each day he was less angry, having something to look forward to. Nonetheless, he took savage pleasure in snubbing both Hermione and Harry daily to go spend time with his new friend. It felt right, and he was really getting to look forward to meeting him every day.

Blaise frowned, halting as he and Draco were exiting the great hall. He reached out and caught Draco by the arm, eyes on the top of the stairs, where Ronald Weasley was coming down with a Durmstrang student, the two chatting like old friends. "Hey Draco… who the hell is that?" He murmured softly.

Draco had long known of his best mate's long-standing crush on the redheaded boy, but the sexual preferences of the boy were also well known. Weasley had expressed a pure and very straight sexual preference, and anyone who had eyes could see how much attention he paid to that mudblood Grainger even when he was ignoring her as he seemed to be doing lately. Any approach and offer of sexual partnership with a male would have met with a shocked denial at least. Blaise preferred to simply watch and see if there would be a chance for him sometime in the future.

Draco looked, and shrugged his shoulders. "It's obvious he's one of the Durmstrang students. I'm not sure who he is."

"He seems to be great friends with Ron." he said softly, jealousy clearly underlying his tone, his eyes narrowed. "How the hell did he manage that?"

The blonde glanced at his best mate. "Even you've noticed that the Weasel hasn't been around Potter or Grainger lately." He reminded. "I've seen him up there on the bridge, muttering curses at that stupid river for hours. He's been so pissed off at the world in general because Potter was chosen as a Tri-wizard Champion." Draco said, rolling his eyes. "You know, Blaise; this might be the perfect time to get him talking to you, too. After all, that bloke got him talking and surely you have more in common with the Weasel than he does." Draco suggested thoughtfully. "Or maybe that bloke would talk to Ron for you. Take a look at his badge. He's in the house they have that's the same as our Slytherin…"

"That's a thought, I'll… I'll think about it…" Blaise murmured thoughtfully as he watched the two stop on the stairs a moment. He felt jealousy rise within his heart, a cold yet very familiar feeling when it came to anyone chatting with the red-haired boy. He could see clearly the little gestures and hear in the tone of the Durmstrang boy an air of seduction. Weasley was either completely taken in or had no idea it was happening to him; most likely he had no clue. He had not even noticed anything when Blaise had talked to him the few times he had worked up the nerve, so the redhead probably had no clue. But it was also clear that it wouldn't be long, if he read what he saw right, before something happened between the two. And Blaise couldn't stand the thought of that.

Gregor looked over, seeing the two Slytherins watching him and Ron; he flashed them both his most charming smile. He knew damned well he was handsome and that dark-skinned boy was watching them both very closely. Both those two were quite beautiful too; his time here at Hogwarts really would be an enjoyable one if he played his cards right.

The teachers, especially Karkaroff, were far too busy watching Krum to pay any mind to what games he might be playing. Before it was time to leave here he intended to have at least one and perhaps two new little slaves to tend to his needs, begging their parents to transfer just to share time with him.

Ron glanced at the time. "Oh bloody hell; I gotta go, Greg… See you at dinner again?"

"My pleasure, my friend." Gregor smiled, and then leaned on the stair railing to watch Ron leave, hurrying up the stairs to get to the third floor. He couldn't wait to get hold of that bum…

Blaise glanced at Draco, making up his mind and gathering his courage. "I'll be along…" Draco nodded and moved off, Crabbe and Goyle closely behind him like two protective monoliths.

He moved up the stairs toward the where the Bulgarian stood, still leaning with his back on the rail, watching where Ron had vanished to. "Hello." He began.

Gregor looked at him, his smile growing. These Hogwarts students were quite easy to get to, and the ones who approached him were so perfectly young. "Hello." He greeted. He liked them young.

"I…" he gathered himself. "I take it you're Ron's friend?" He asked softly.

"Yes, Ron Weasley is friend of mine. We are seeing each other every day, and will be having dinner together too." Gregor answered smoothly, detecting jealousy from this young boy. Ah, this boy would be a far easier target, if only he could draw him in. He'd worked on Weasley a full week and so far had no success in seducing the boy. Ron saw nothing of his carefully laid out seductions and he simply could not seem to get Weasley alone in a place he felt comfortable to make his move.

"I… okay. I should…" Blaise felt defeated; he had thought to make his move finally but it was clearly too late.

"Are you wanting to be joining Weasley and myself?" He asked slyly.

Blaise looked up at him, startled. Had it been that obvious? And had this young man really been with Ron, sexually…? "Um… yes… Yes, I would…"

"I shall talk of you to him. See what he thinks. Ronald does not feel open to much, if you know of what I am speaking…" he said suggestively. The jealousy now clear in this young Slytherins eyes made it clear to him; he wanted to be the redhead's lover and thought he was already "in", so to speak. He could use this, oh yes…

Blaise blushed a bit, and then nodded. "Yes… please do. I'm Blaise Zabini, by the way…"

"Blaise… a good, strong name. You are… how do you say, beautiful young man. I am Gregor Ptriov."

"Talk to him for me, would you Gregor…? I'd really, really be grateful…"

He was counting on that gratitude to get some pleasure of his own. "Is no problem. You are lonely; I can help ease loneliness. I am understanding …" he said, reaching to touch Blaise's hand.

Blaise hesitated, looking at the boy. Gregor was sending out clear signals that he was more than receptive to same-sex relationships. A quick relationship, no strings, was always welcome, a distraction from his constant longing to be with Weasley.

"You know of private place we can go…? To talk…" he suggested.

Blaise gave him a small smile. "Sure… let me show you the Slytherin locker room." He suggested. The two moved off, silent for a while as they walked. "Um… Gregor...? How did you meet Ron?"

Gregor smiled a very attractive smile. "Weasley needed a friend and I was there… we talked and now am friends. It is nice to have friend here." he said as they moved to the Quidditch pitch. Blaise led him on into the locker room, showing him about.

Gregor halted, catching a glimpse of some movement in a side room. He moved over to find himself looking at a life-size poster on the wall of Ron standing just outside a shower, steam billowing about behind him, laughing and body glistening with water, wrapping a towel about himself. The timing of the wizarding photograph gave no actual view of what was under the pink towel, just a glimpse of bare hip and thigh all the way up, quickly covered by the towel as the Gryffindor laughed. Gregor stared a long moment. "This is Weasley…?"

"Um…yeah." Blaise agreed, eyes lingering on the picture he'd put up to tease the team and they had insisted that he leave it there as a good luck charm. He thought half the damn team had a thing for Ron, too bad he was so damned straight…

"He should wear clothing that is fitting better to his body…" Gregor said, more determined than before that he would get his hands on that boy.

"That's just not what Ron does." Blaise said, sighing softly.

Gregor looked at the younger boy and reached to him, stroking a finger down his arm. "It is what I do. And I do more, Blaise… you help ease my loneliness…?" He offered, eyes lingering on Blaise's lips.

Blaise hesitated, looking up at the taller boy. Gregor touched his face, leaning in to give him a kiss. The younger boy did not shy away and he kissed him softly, not willing to push this too far just yet. He pulled Blaise's body against his own hard muscled one, keeping the kisses slow and very gentle. Oh yes, gentle for now. But he would soon do as he wished with no restraint, once he had this one where he wanted him.

A few kisses, a few little pets to see exactly what type of little slave this dark-skinned little Slytherin could be and he would let him alone, this time. He would bide his time; when he got the redhead in his bed it would be time to reel this one in as well. He would have two toys when all was said and done.