Hate
Summary: Ron and Draco had a hate so strong, it could not be knocked down by anything. Sex, war, wives, whatever they faced, the hate stayed strong and did not burn down. Join me for spring break with allieweasley in the story of Hate. Watch out homophobics, it's slash, and you wouldn't like that, would you?
A/N - The HBP is out and I have read it and everything, but I've chosen not to incorporate it in this story, since it'll ruin the plot I had in mind. So when you review, don't go asking me, "Why isn't Dumbledore dead? Why did Draco come back for seventh year? Why didn't I read the author's note at the beginning of the story?"
The story
Ever since they first laid eyes on each other, a fire began to grow.
Ever since they first saw each other on the Hogwarts Express, Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy acknowledged each other. Ron saw Draco as the snobby, spoiled little serpent his father had described when he was a child (actually, it was Lucius who he had called these things, as well as many other inappropriate words, but Arthur informed his son that all Malfoys had these traits). Draco saw Ron as the poor pauper his father had described, a blood traitor with a Gryffindor mule-like temper and a headstrong attitude carried throughout the Weasley blood.
There was an unspoken promise of hate between the two. They hated each other in their first year, where they both began to experience each other in person and concluded that their fathers were correct. They hated each other in their second year. Draco laughed in Ron's face about his "sweet little Mudblood, paralyzed". They fought many a times in the corridors, and it was a wonder where all the teachers had gone. Nevertheless, even if there were teachers, nothing could stop the Malfoy-Weasley hate cycle.
In third year Ron was beginning to get sick of it. He was tired of the constant flow of insults from the boy, the boy who always had to be ruddy perfect with his white-blonde hair and piercing grey eyes. It was always about his family, about their status, their number, their lack of money, anything. Fred and George were immature clowns; Percy was an uptight goody-goody with something shoved up his arse. Ginny was this shy little girl who followed the famous Harry Potter around like a lost puppy.
And his friends. Oh, how those would make Ron shudder. Hermione Granger, the dirty Mudblood with a bushy mane of hair that suited a Gryffindor well, Draco had informed him. And Harry Potter, famous Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. Draco had something to say about that.
But it was hardly about Ron himself.
In the beginning of their fourth year, Ron was rather preoccupied hating Harry and had little time for Draco. And somehow, this made Draco furious.
He didn't know how, but this seemed to conjure many emotions from inside of him. Malfoys were never supposed to feel this way, but he felt jealousy, annoyance, wanting. Draco was trying to work these feelings out when he came to a realization: Ron was the person who responded to him, who erupted in feelings and raw emotions and made him feel something back.
Fifth year was an odd year for the two. The O.W.L.'s had been a killer and both remembered this very grimly. They especially remembered the times when the library had become a common escape from the irritations of their common rooms, and how it had become so packed with frantically studying students that they had been forced to share tables a couple of times. Many times.
When they would sit down with their books and parchment and quills, they both tried their very hardest to ignore each other, but that proved to be one of the most difficult things they could imagine. Draco could hardly keep himself from poking fun at Ron's study habits, snorting at how Ron would sometimes hit himself over the head with an aggravating textbook, or at Ron's expression when he was trying to remember something rather important. He would screw his eyes shut and wrinkle his nose, causing his freckles to jumble up, and scrunch up his red hair with his reddening hands.
Ron had been trying his best to ignore these stabs at his mannerisms. He would remember what Hermione told him ("He's just trying to get to you, Ron,") and glare at a piece of homework that still needed two more inches of writing. And Draco couldn't help but poke fun at his handwriting as well. Too big, too bulky, but very Weasley.
They did not know how, but somewhere in sixth year they suddenly grabbed hold of each other and snogged. They both forgot where it had taken place, it could've been outside on the soft green grass, or in the privacy of the Astronomy Tower, but they remembered that there had not been another soul around when they shared their first kiss.
It was not to be called a kiss, they agreed. The mutual feeling of hate did not end even when they snuck off to be alone. When people dreamed of a kiss, it would be soft and sweet, full of passion and desire. Ron and Draco only fulfilled the requirements of passion and desire.
Their kisses was a collision of open lips, grinding teeth and lashing of tongues. It was a fight for dominance between two of the most stubborn boys in Hogwarts. Sometimes, Ron would pin Draco against the wall using his sheer strength to prove himself as alpha. He used his larger body build against Draco and his smaller frame.
Draco, on the other hand, enjoyed mind games. Ron was not stupid, but his mind power was not far from average, while Draco's exceeded others of his age (and if it weren't for the "Mudblood" he would be top student). He would tangle Ron up in his sly words and pull as many tricks as Peter, the Poltergeist, though his tricks had a much different purpose.
They didn't remember where they first made love either. "Don't call it making love," they told themselves. "Just fucking." They always remembered where they came close to it, however. Like the time Ron stayed back in the changing rooms after Quidditch practice and Draco snuck up on him, and vice versa. Except Ron failed hilariously in stealth.
They did not remember where, but they remembered everything else.
They remembered how the atmosphere felt, wonderfully unromantic and contained absolutely no words. No "baby" or "honey" or "sweet pea", or any other sort of cheesy lovey-dovey name. They were focused on what they wanted, in getting down and dirty and tearing those annoying clothes off. Draco had even allowed Ron to tear his expensive, designer robes into shreds. Ron never told Draco about this, but he enjoyed doing so immensely.
They had memorized each other's scents and smells long ago: Ron was a spicy fire and Draco wore Men's perfume and was much too clean. But that did not bother them the slightest. One boy shoved the other on his knees, and in retort, once he was finished the other boy would do the same.
It was a fierce battle of hate, it was always a fierce battle of hate. They had hated each other for such a long time, and showed it in every possible way. Ron had taken a liking to biting down on Draco's neck, shoulders, anywhere it would show an imperfection. Draco would show cruelty and absolutely no mercy, teasing Ron as he stroked the boys rock-hard erection but not allowing him to climax just yet.
They remembered beginning a wrestling match, flipping each other on their backs until finally Ron triumphed and pinned Draco down on the ground. In a way, Draco had expected this, since he could not possibly hope to beat the redhead in a physical brawl, but he had still gotten exactly what he wanted. He just allowed Ron to think otherwise when he opened his legs and allowed him to ram into him, hard.
After the first two times of "fucking", they began talking, but only after they were done. They preferred to talk when they were worn out, still tangled up in sweat and limbs. They would lie like this casually and lazily as if it was an everyday activity (which it had indeed become) and speak their minds about things. And since they were completely drained in mind and body, their conversations were often absent-minded.
Draco would prefer to talk what was happening in the student crowd. He refused to call this gossip, claiming to Ron that such was a girl thing, and he was very manly, thank you very much. It was often about the Gryffindors, and how they did so-and-so on Friday (Ron never really listened to those kind of things but he was sure that whatever Draco was talking about it was something insulting).
Ron, on the other hand, usually talked about small, random things. He would complain about Snape, yes, or some other teacher who had given him an unfair amount of homework, but he would also point out human nature. Like the fact that you never really know you're growing until you look at your old pictures or realize that the clothes you're wearing are much too small. And how you always come up with a good come back when the time has passed and the person you wished to insult as gone. At that point, Ron would keep a steady stream of offending slander that he had always wished to say and had never gotten the chance to do so.
Later on in the year, they began talking about much more personal subjects. Their fathers, family, friends (fucking starts with an f too) and suddenly, Draco brought up the subject of the war. He would fiddle with Ron's nipples as he spoke of the uncomfortable subject. Draco informed Ron that he had no intention whatsoever to give up his destiny as Death Eater. Ron said nothing, he only sighed.
No matter what they talked about, they would always end it the same way.
"I hate you."
"I hate you, too."
And they would kiss and fall asleep.
In seventh year, they went public, deciding that they didn't care enough about what people thought. Ron had already endured enough embarrassment and humiliation over the past few years from Draco to become affected too much. And whoever thought that they could affront Draco and get away with it…well, we can't make this story too gory.
Harry Potter's first reaction was a flinch. He screwed up his right eye and wrinkled his nose, because he just could not understand. His best friend, whom he had known so well, had hid something from him for a year without his noticing, and such did not make him feel very intelligent. However, he was absolutely sure that Hermione, the smart one, could sort out problems.
Did Hermione understand? Yes and no. She understood that as opposites of each other Ron and Draco balanced one another and suited each other rather well. And she also learned to respect what they had and tolerate it, often frowning at the homophobic Golden Boy. But there was something she could not make heads or tail of: Ron and Draco continued to act exactly the same in public. Not exactly the same, Ron was more confident now and shot impressive insults right back at Draco. And any sort of joke Draco drawled out would include the usual your-family-and-friends-suck with a new, sexual twist which made Hermione blush but would make Ron smirk.
She had asked Ron if he loved Draco, and he looked at her as if she had gone mental. "No…" He had said extremely slowly. "Why?"
And Hermione just could not understand that.
When Crabbe and Goyle saw Draco bring Ron to the Slytherin dormitory, they stared with an interested expression, then shrugged and looked away. They tried to work out how two men would work, but Draco assured them that it was completely normal. "You can try if you like," He said, holding back a laugh. They shrugged again and walked to their rooms, turning around and asked Ron if he was okay, who looked as if he would puke any minute.
As for Dumbledore…well, the old man always knew everything that went on, everywhere, every time, and acknowledged this new development between his two students with a chuckle and a little snacking of lemon drops.
Then they graduated.
Draco lived up to his promise. He was marked in the middle of the graduation ceremony as well as the majority of the seventh-year Slytherins and anyone else who wished to follow. Lord Voldemort had arrived with a respected number of Death Eater lackeys, overcoming teachers and a few foolish students who thought they could fight back. Dumbledore was pulled away for Ministry business two days before the ceremony, as he always is just before something dark and dramatic happens, and he came back just in time to save them all from a horrible death but was not able to catch the Dark Lord. He also wishes for the authoress to stop her sarcastic writing, which she unwillingly obeys.
The two continued to see each other, however. They taught themselves how to sneak out and blend in with the frightened crowds. Neither Ron or Draco bothered to convince the other to switch sides. Draco understood that Ron's family would be utterly appalled and horrified if Ron even slipped in the words, "joining Death Eaters," and knew that Ron didn't like the idea of killing for a living anyway. Ron understood that Draco's family expected him to be strong, he expected himself to be strong, and knew that trying to talk Draco into joining the light side would be one of the stupidest things he would attempt in his life.
When Harry Potter finally succeeded in killing Lord Voldemort after three long years of battle, all the Death Eaters and anyone else who had helped Voldemort in any way was arrested and almost certain to receive a death penalty. Except Draco. Draco had been sitting in his cell with his peers, the seventh-years who had been marked in the graduation ceremony, when Harry arrived and pulled Draco out, ignoring the shouts of outrage from the others. As he dragged Draco's arm along, he reminded him repeatedly that he was doing this for Ron. Not because he wanted to.
Everyone was surprised when they did not marry, or continue their relationship. Draco worked to get Pansy Parkinson out of Azkaban as well and proposed to her to seal the arranged marriage his parents had set up for the two when they were toddlers. Ron turned around and proposed to Hermione, shocking them all even more, and they reproduced like rabbits as all Weasleys did.
The Malfoy family and Weasley family often visited each other. The two families never stopped hating each other, and neither did Ron and Draco. It had become a habit to go to the Malfoy Manor for lunch on Sundays and to the Weasleys for some Quidditch. And afterwards, Draco would always drag Ron somewhere.
Hermione and Pansy knew full well what the two would do. Ron and Draco did not even bother to make excuses, they just walked away and came about half and hour later, out of breath with shining eyes and rosy cheeks. The wives knew that they loved their husbands, and their husbands loved them back, but they would always be second best, no matter how hard they tried.
The fire of hate had surrounded the two when they were eleven, and it still had not burned out.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
A/N - That is the story, and the next chapters will all be drabbles short and long that take place in the plot. It can be anywhere, in the beginning, middle, or end, and the drabbles will be sort of random and contain many genres. The drabbles will not have any sort of official ending, they will only stop and this fic will only finish when springbreak ends for me. So please R/R and give me some ideas for the drabbles. I already have some planned, but it would be nice to hear input from reviewers. n-n