Summary: Draco always gets what he wants. So why should this time be different?
Warning: Strong R-rated, at least in future chapters. Draco/Ron pairing, with Draco dominance.
Disclaimer: I don't own Draco, though I wish I would ;)
A/N: The title is from the song Pieces Of You, by Jewel. I picked it because of this part which is has a lot to do with the story:
You say he's a faggot, does it make you want to hurt him?
You say he's a faggot, do you want to bash in his brain?
You say he's a faggot, does he make you sick to your stomach?
You say he's a faggot, are you afraid you're just the same?
Faggot, Faggot, do you hate him
'Cause he's pieces of you?
Draco Malfoy stepped out of the carriage and looked at his surroundings. He was home again. Contrary to what most people thought of him he didn't care much about Malfoy Manor, or the people that inhabited it. The only thing he cared about was himself. What he wanted. What he needed. Ever since he had been a little boy he had always gotten what he wanted, a way for Narcissa Malfoy to buy her way out of loving him. When he wanted a new broom, even if it was just a few weeks after he had gotten another broom, he would get it. His room was filled with stuff he barely touched, some things he had never even bothered to take the pricetag off. His room was as much museum as it was a bedroom.
But now he was back. Hogwarts Castle. With its dungeons that made him feel comfortable, the dark surroundings that he so easily blended in with. With people that did everything for just acknowledgement of their existence from Draco Malfoy. With Crabbe, and Goyle, the two most stupid boys he had ever seen, but at least they were loyal. They cared.
Looking around his gaze suddenly fell on the Golden Trio. Like all the other years he felt annoyance at their presence. It was time they got expelled from Hogwarts, with everything they had done, all the rules they had broken. He hated Harry the most, since he took glory from himself. Nobody had cared that Draco Malfoy had come to Hogwarts, because the boy who lived was going to be there too. Harry bloody Potter. Hermione Granger, the mudblood that he had to admit was indeed a very smart and witty witch. Someone he wouldn't mind bedding.
His gaze shifted to the last and least outstanding of the three wizards. Ron Weasley. He had nothing that made him special, except if you counted his red hair, which he now noticed had faded a bit over the summer. He looked better, more grown up and definitely more self-confident.
Draco's eyes wandered over the tall boy standing far enough away from him so nobody would notice his stare. He imagined how Ron must look without the robes, just dressed in casual muggle clothing. Though he would never admit it, Draco had a fascination for muggle clothes. The way they sometimes hugged peoples bodies, like that person had done a shrinking spell, aroused him.
Thinking about Weasley wearing those tight clothes made a lump appear in his throat. He quickly discarded his gaze when he noticed the slight changes in his body. Why was he suddenly all googly-eyed over a bloody stupid wizard like Ron Weasley? One who was too poor to buy the kind of robes he himself always wore, and who was still using a wand that had once belonged to his older brother.
Draco never had any problems admitting to himself that he was bisexual. He wisely kept it to himself though, knowing that his parents had as much problems with muggleborns as they did with bisexual or gay people. So he just restrained himself to looking at other guys. In previous years he had the pleasure of being able to watch others showering, but now he was a prefect, and planned on showering in the prefects bathroom. He loved the privacy, the chance to be alone with his thoughts and fantasies. Masturbating while there were three other guys sleeping in the same bedroom was not really his thing, so he sought privacy whenever he needed, and enjoyed the temporary loneliness.
And he spent it wisely, thinking about some witch or sometimes wizard. At first his fantasies about boys had been scarce and hesitating, exploring his turn-ons all anew. But in time, during the holidays, he had settled on one ever returning fantasy.
Though sometimes he felt ashamed of thinking, fantasizing those things, it was too powerful and erotic to stop it.
Ron Weasley. Pinned to the bed. Tied to the bedpost with handcuffs, or sometimes with rope, it depended. But the rest of the fantasy was always the same. Him straddling Ron. Attacking his mouth, biting and sucking and enjoying the whimpering and painful moans. Knowing that Ron both craved and detested this. Knowing that he had full control. Full power.
Thinking about this he had gotten a hard-on and was glad that he was wearing the very concealing Hogwarts robes. Throwing one more glance at Ron he walked up to the Great Hall and sat himself down in between Crabbe and Goyle. The Slytherin Prince was home.
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