Author's Note: This is a strange and disparate collection of drabbles with two things in common - they are all about the love between Ron and Draco, and they are all under 500 words (just about).
Title: Cho Chang in Charge
Wordcount: 491
Prompt: Fight!Fight!Fight!
Disclaimer: I do not own Ron and Draco. (More's the pity. I would make them do similar things to this).
"You're sure?" Hermione asked.
Cho was sure.
"We'll raise a lot of money for House Elf Welfare," she said.
Then Hermione was sure, too.
"Let's make sure I've got this straight," Millicent said. She knew she didn't always understand things the first time. "We'll be a panel of judges."
"Right," Hannah answered encouragingly, "one girl from each house. It's very fair."
"Each House chooses a boy?" Millicent went on. She was so glad she was keeping up. Usually Pansy got to do everything.
"No! No!" Cho had made do with Bulstrode because she didn't want Parkinson taking over, but the big girl's stupidity was getting annoying now.
Hermione butted in again. "We judges should choose."
Cho wished she'd asked Padma's sister. She was in Gryffindor. "No! It's my idea! I pick the boys!"
"Fighting's not very nice," Hannah complained. "Somebody might get hurt."
"It's not fighting! It's Jelly Wrestling!" Cho said for what felt like the hundredth time. "And I want Justin Finch-Fletchly, Michael Corner, Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley!"
Hermione handed over the very brief red and gold briefs which Cho had told her to give Ron.
"Where's the rest of the costume?" he asked.
"We talked her out of the collars. So this is it."
"I'm not standing up in front of the whole school in just underpants!"
"It's ok. You'll be covered in jelly most of the time."
"I don't think you're reassuring him!" Harry choked out between snorts of mirth.
"Who am I wrestling?" Ron asked.
Hermione didn't seem to have heard him.
"You are not serious!" Draco hissed. "Not the Weasel!"
"It was all fair and random and that!" Millicent insisted, though she was taking Cho's word for that because she hadn't actually understood the Ravenclaw's strangely complicated explanation. "Look Draco. It's simple. Everybody sits here," she waved at the tiered seating which had been conjured round the four sides of the Great Hall. "You and your oppo ... oppo ... Weasley climb into this," she indicated the paddling pool full of green jelly, "and do wrestling!"
A more observant girl might have noticed the twitch developing at Draco's eye, and the sound of teeth grinding.
The students whooped as four bare feet slid into the goo. Cho rubbed her hands. This was the match she had really been looking forward to.
"Go!" she yelled.
Ron looked at Draco; Draco looked at Ron.
Cho sighed. "Right. He says your mother's fat and he says the Dark Lord does flower arranging!"
Predictably, the two boys sprang at each other. Lime jelly spattered the audience as Ron slammed into his opponent, leaving him sprawling on his back. Draco scratched down his thigh and then toppled him by grabbing his waistband. Soon the two of them were rolling round together in a sticky, sweet blur.
"Who's winning?" Hermione asked her fellow judges.
Her eyes on the centre of the room, Cho replied, "Sweetheart, I think we are the winners here."
Title: Millicent Bulstrode In Charge
Wordcount: 255
Prompt: Trick or Treat
Disclaimer: I do not own Ron and Draco.
"Actually, Hermione, I think you'll find that I understand perfectly. You just leave this to me. I'll raise lots of money for your Society for the Prevention of Elf Houses!" Millicent blustered off.
Hermione was about to follow and explain things properly, but Cho stopped her. It really wasn't worth it.
"So," Millicent explained in a condescending manner, "we dress as Muggles and then ask people whether they want a trick or a treat!"
"What's a trick? Is that some kind of code?" Marcus Flint demanded.
"Are you still here?" asked Goyle. "How old are you now?"
"Isn't a 'trick' what whores 'turn'?" Blaise asked.
"Oh, I see!" Nott said, "I was wondering whether even Muggles would be stupid enough to turn down a treat in favour of having a trick played on them!"
"Have I got this straight?" queried Flint, doubtfully. "On Halloween, Muggles go round to each others houses offering them sex or a treat? What sort of treat?"
"Probably more sex," Blaise purred.
"Oh, very well." Draco gave a long-suffering sigh. "Anything for a charity that puts House Elves back in their place. I'm even prepared to cover Gryffindor Tower for you." He checked his hair on the way out. "I'm not going to dress up, though. There's no point." Under his breath he muttered, "I'll start with the Weasel. Might not have time for any more tonight."
"Draco!" Millicent called after him, but he didn't seem to hear her. "Draco! It's only the twentieth! There's another ten days 'til Halloween!"
Title: Parenting
Rating/Warnings: R. References to BDSM
Wordcount: 175
Prompt: Have A Nice Trip, See You Next Fall!
Disclaimer: I do not own Ron and Draco. (More's the pity).
"Bye, Dad," Scorpius clung to his father and his father hugged him back.
"Bye. It'll be fine. Have a lovely time at your mother's."
"You'll be at King's Cross, though?"
"I wouldn't miss it!" Draco gave his son a last kiss on the forehead then let him Floo away.
"Come on you two!" Ron steered his children forwards.
"Do I have to? Dad! She makes us learn spellings!"
"It's only a couple of weeks, Hugo. Your Mum deserves to spend time with you two. We've had a lovely month, haven't we?"
First Hugo, then Rose (blowing kisses) disappeared into the flames.
Their fathers stood quietly for a moment. Then Ron put his arms round his husband.
"Miss him," Draco whispered.
"Yeah." They held each other for a silent moment. "Still..." Ron added. "There are compensations to having the place to ourselves ..."
Draco's face cracked into a twinkling grin. "Oh yes!" he said, pulling a key out of his inside pocket. "Now you put the swing back up and I'll get the paddles and canes out!"
Title: Congratulations
Wordcount: 288
Prompt: Have A Nice Trip, See You Next Fall!
Disclaimer: I do not own Ron and Draco. (More's the pity).
Hermione pulled out of the hug with tears in her eyes. "Congratulations," she said, "I'm sure you'll be very happy. Where are you going on honeymoon?"
"I don't know," Ron admitted. "Draco's organised it. It's a surprise."
"Oh!" She composed herself. "Well. Have a lovely time."
Lucius Malfoy strode across the lawn and allowed Ron to shake his hand. "Congratulations," he managed through gritted teeth.
"Thank you, Father. May I call you Father?"
"No. You may continue to call me Mr Malfoy. Has my son divulged to you yet the destination of your ihoneymoon/i?"
"Not yet. Mr Malfoy. Sir."
Lucius smirked and stalked away. Charlie followed him with his eyes, blatantly checking him out even as he congratulated his brother.
"So," he leered, "wedding night tonight, eh? Need any tips?"
"You may have noticed that neither of us is wearing white. I think we'll manage."
"That's a good-looking boy you've caught yourself, you need to keep things interesting in the bedroom or he'll start straying. And he won't be short of offers!" Charlie waggled his eyebrows.
"You dare!"
"So where are you going to having your first night of wedded bliss?"
"I don't know," Ron admitted. "Draco's suprising me."
Charlie actually laughed out loud. Luckily Molly bustled up before Ron could hit him.
"Oh, don't you look handsome! My little Ronnikins in a suit and all grown up and married!" She wiped away a tear. "Drop in and see us tomorrow, won't you, let us know everything's all right?"
"Mum! I'll be on honeymoon!"
"Oh yes. Where are --?"
"I don't know. Draco's organised it. It's a surprise."
"Oh sweet Merlin!" She patted his arm. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm sure it'll be just fine."
Title: Wish You Were Here?
Prompt:Trick or Treat?
Disclaimer: I do not own Ron and Draco.
Friends and family accompanied them as far as the thestral-drawn carriage, taking photographs and throwing multi-coloured, twinkling rice at them as they climbed aboard.
"Congratulations!" called out a few people.
"Good luck!" shouted quite a few more.
Ron gave Draco a soft kiss on the cheek and whispered, "I don't need luck, I'm already the luckiest man alive."
The thestral trotted off and they could both see it now because it had been a bloody war. They waved until they turned a corner.
"Now will you tell me where we're going on honeymoon?" Ron asked his new husband.
Draco smiled a secret smile.
"Oh come on! Everyone's been winding me up about it all day!"
"Who has?"
"Everyone. They all seem to think you're going to take me somewhere awful!"
"Why would they think that?"
"I don't know – but even your Dad looked like it was going to be hellish."
"Do you really think I would share any secret with him?" Draco's scornful smirk looked a lot like the one Lucius always threw Ron's way.
"Well, no, but ... My family --"
"Your family think I'm scum."
"No. I mean, yeah, they do but it's not that."
"What sort of horrible trick do they think I would play on you on our wedding night?"
Ron sighed. "It doesn't matter. I know they're wrong. I know you won't take me anywhere dark or dangerous or whatever they think. What worries me, Draco -"
"You bare/b worried?"
"Only that you'll take me somewhere posh and I won't know how to behave and I'll show you up."
Draco kissed him hard. "I wouldn't do that to you. I know you better than that. Now, hold my hands and we'll side-along." Slim, pale fingers wrapped around large, freckle-backed ones. "I think you'll like this," Draco whispered before spinning.
The world whooshed away from them and when it reformed it made the shape of a hotel room, a modest, clean, comfortable one with little more than a double bed and a bathroom. A window took up most of one wall.
"Check out the view," Draco advised.
Ron looked down onto a square of green he knew very well. There were three hoops at either end. It was surrounded by stands and all of it was coloured the most garish orange.
"The Cannons' ground!" he gasped. "There's a match tomorrow."
Draco nodded, smiling, "And all week you can watch them train." Then he backed his loved one onto the bed, "When you're not too busy showing me how grateful you are!"
Title: History Must Not Repeat
Warnings: Sad.
Wordcount: 307
Prompt: Have A Nice Trip, See You Next Fall!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe.
It was Colin Creevey who caught them in the end. Being Colin, even before the shock had worn off he had raised his camera.
Dumbledore was determined that history would not repeat itself, that Ron would be spared the mistakes he had made himself for love.
Lucius had plans for his son which did not involve trysts with blood traitor boys.
Their friends were horrified, thought love potions or iImperious/i had been used, both sides determined to keep them apart.
Molly and Narcissa saw that their sons were hurting, but believed they would get through it, would outgrow it.
Spying charms were put in place, doors were warded, the school was zoned and who could tell how Dark the spells were which a Death Eater might use on his son?
Still, in the third month, Ron and Draco disappeared. It took four days for Professor Flitwick to find them in the Owlery, huddling under dirty straw and droppings, clinging together and using all their strength to fight the magic ranged against them.
A crowd gathered. Threats and ultimatums and terrifying promises were made against the two boys shivering on the floor. It became clear that oceans would be put between them, that there was no way their love would be permitted to grow.
Shakily they stood, held hands, stepped back. Ginny was the only one who knew in time, but she was too far back to stop it. As if they shared a single body, they leapt the rail together and tipped backwards.
They tried to hold their kiss, but the momentum wrenched their mouths apart. Their gazes locked, though, their eye contact held, blue on grey, seeing each other the whole time as they fell the height of the castle.
Their broken bodies lay mangled in the grounds, blood mingling on the dry earth.
Title: Plus Guest
Wordcount: 386
Prompt: Friends and Family
Disclaimer: I do not own Ron and Draco (if I did the books wouldn't be suitable for children any more).
You are cordially invited to join Mr Percy and Mrs Audrey Weasley in a celebration of the birth of their daughter, Molly Cedrica Weasley.
Ron stared down at the embossed card. He stared particularly at two words. To Mr Ronald Weasley the invitation began. Then it said plus guest. Did he dare? Were they ready? It was the perfect occasion. There would be other guests there and so his family would even have to be polite, or at least, they would be less likely to cause a scene.
Would they expect him to bring Hermione? No, they would have named her if they did. Had she received her own invitation? Would she be there? Would she bring her own iplus guest/i? Did that make a difference to whether he dared or not?
Nobody knew about them yet, but he couldn't imagine being without Draco now. That meant they would be together forever. So, one day they would have to be brave. They would have to be introduced to each other's families.
Their fathers had hated each other for a very long time. Their families had been enemies for generations. Draco had taunted every one of them, he had been responsible for letting Greyback in to Hogwarts, the scars on Bill's face were his doing. Harry would be there, he and Ginny were engaged now. Was there any chance that Harry could forgive and forget? Would Ron be forced to choose?
Even if none of them were prepared to accept Draco, even if the choice were between every one of his friends and every member of his family on one side, and Draco on the other, Ron now knew that he would choose his lover. But was he ready to do that now? How much longer could he wait?
Perhaps it would be ok, maybe he could turn up with Draco on his arm, clearly his iplus guest/i, clearly his partner, his other half, and maybe everyone would welcome him into the family with a big smile. Maybe.
"I thought I heard an owl," Draco said, sleepy and naked, padding into Ron's kitchen. "Have you got post?"
Ron gave him a quick kiss. "Nothing important," he answered.
He needed thinking time. He did not dare. Not yet.
Title: With Guest.
Warnings: Swearing words.
Prompt: Fight!Fight!Fight!
Disclaimer: I do not own Weasleys.
As Ron emerged from the Floo, Percy bustled over to him and accepted the ribbon-decorated gift for the baby.
"Did you bring a guest?" Percy checked. "You weren't sure."
Ron stepped aside as the flames flared green, and examined Percy's face as Draco stepped onto the hearth. Percy looked stunned.
"You've met Draco?" Ron asked.
Draco stretched his alabaster arm and, automatically, Percy took his hand and shook it. He shot Ron a desperate, questioning look, mumbling, "Mr Malfoy. So pleased."
"I hope it's the right size." Draco indicated the gift.
"Lovely wrapping," Percy choked out.
"Draco did it," Ron said proudly.
Percy flapped vague hands around as he asked, stumblingly, "And you two, erm, how? You are? Um?"
Ron took a deep breath. "He's my partner."
"Business?" asked Percy hopefully.
"Life," Ron clarified.
Percy sighed and sat down heavily. Ron looked tense, so Draco gave him a reassuring peck on the cheek. Percy covered his eyes. Summoning up nervous determination, Ron took his boyfriend's arm and marched him into the sitting room. A hush fell around the crowded room like dominoes toppling.
George spoke first: "Why the fuck have we got a Death Eater here?"
"He's with me!" Ron replied defiantly.
Every man in the room squared his shoulders and so did most of the women.
"Why?" Hermione demanded stridently.
Ron swallowed. Draco wanted to reassure him, but he didn't want to antagonise anyone.
"Because we are a couple." Ron had started off boldly, but his voice had failed him with a squeak towards the end.
A mumbling groan spread amongst the guests. As one body, they moved towards Ron and Draco. Draco reached into his sleeve for his wand, but Ron grabbed his wrist. If they ever wanted acceptance from his relatives, then hexing them wouldn't help. The lovers looked around nervously as the Weasleys moved in.
Suddenly there was a rapping sound. All heads turned to where Audrey stood in the kitchen doorway, baby held on her hip, a wooden spoon in the other hand, with which she was knocking on the wall.
"If any one of you spoils my daughter's naming day by fighting then I will never forgive you," she warned. "Every one of our guests will be treated with respect. Is this clear?"
In a rumble of resigned muttering, the redheaded army fell back. Audrey walked through them to introduce baby Molly to the man she referred to as "Uncle Draco."
Title: House Guest
Rating: About a 15?
Wordcount: 247
Prompt: A First Time For Everything.
Disclaimer: I do not own Ron and Draco. Almost as sadly, I don't own Lucius, either!
"I introduced you to my family!" Ron complained. "WHY not?"
"Yes, just look how well that went!" Draco replied. "We were lucky to escape in one piece."
"They just need to get used to the idea."
"Whereas my parents will never accept our relationship and it won't just be fists we'll be ducking, it will unforgiveables!"
Ron pouted. "I'll miss you."
"It's two nights. I'll ipatronus/i all the time."
"Not owl?"
"Daren't risk it. But wouldn't you rather hear my voice?"
Ron sulked for three days. Draco had thought that he was good at sulking, but he'd never seen anything like it.
"Fine! I've done it!" he yelled at Ron's unmoving back. "I've told my parents I'm bringing a guest!"
Ron hugged him.
"You'll have to stay in the guest suite, though."
They never did pluck up the courage to tell the Malfoys about their relationship. To his dying day, Lucius thought his son merely had unfortunate taste in flat mates and had yet to meet the right girl. That weekend did provide several other opportunities, though:
The first time Ron ate caviar, and the first time Draco ate from between arse cheeks,
Their first time in Draco's childhood bed, with teddy bears watching,
Ron's first blowjob in a maze,
Their first soiling of the loaned invisibility cloak,
The first time a House Elf interrupted them
And the first time they did that thing – which went on to be a favourite – with a peacock feather.
Title: Party Guests
Wordcount: 320
Prompt: Trick or Treat
Disclaimer: I do own Ron and Draco. JKR can keep everything else. Oh go on, Jo! Give them to me! Please. Apparently I don't own any part of the Potterverse.
"Do you think they'll come?" Ron asked his partner, doubtfully.
The quill scratched addresses onto a pile of envelopes and the invitation cards decorated with glittery dancing pumpkins hopped inside them. Ron thought the glitter was a bit much, actually, but if it kept Draco happy then why not?
"Some of them will," Draco replied. "Others will never forgive us." He stroked Ron's forearm. "This is how we find out which ones."
Draco had said they should invite friends only, no family, but for Ron, his family were so embedded in his group of friends that he couldn't separate them. He hoped Harry would come, and that he would persuade Ginny. He hadn't seen much of them since baby Molly's party. He missed them.
He wondered whether Hermione would come. There was a rumour that she was with Luna now. If she was happy, then she might be able to forgive him, the two of them might come to the party.
He watched the names as the owls took off. iDean, Neville and Hannah, George, Lavender and Lee .../i He hoped they would be there for Halloween, because acceptance of and invitation would mean acceptance of his relationship with the son of Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's faithful follower.
There were other names, though, iGregory Goyle and guest, Pansy Parkinson, the Greengrass sisters .../i Just the thought of being in a room with those people might e enough to put his friends off coming.
On the night, Draco and Ron decorated their apartment with lanterns and pumpkins, made punch and stuck cocktail sticks in sausages ("you have no class, Weasel") and they waited.
Dozens came. The place was filled and they all seemed to be having a good time. But they all came in costumes, with masks, so by the end of the night, the couple still didn't know who was against them and who was prepared to forgive them.
Title: A Letter from the Dark
Warnings: Sad
Wordcount: 498
Prompt: Fight!Fight!Fight!
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Wizarding World.
Dear Ron Weasley,
I don't expect you will ever read this. Perhaps when I am dead it will be discovered amongst my possessions and forwarded to you. If that should happen then, I beg you, do not think too poorly of me for having written this down.
You did not come to school this year. At the welcoming feast I scanned the Great Hall, looking for the three of you. I kept expecting you to walk into lessons. I found myself, shockingly, missing you.
I missed the fighting. We used to taunt each other, wind each other up to exploding point. I wanted to watch your face turn red and sweaty, see your knuckles whiten round your wand, have flashing eyes bore into mine. Tension builds and I have nobody to relieve it on, nobody who can react the way you do. I want the warmth of your hand on my throat to remind me I'm alive.
Father has been freed from Azkaban. When I watch the way our Master treats him, I think he was safer there. Our home has been taken over. I long to escape to school, but that is now controlled by Death Eaters also, and is little better.
Here I am a slave, and a prisoner as much as Lovegood is. At least she isn't forced to torture people. I should be better at this. It is what I was bred for, trained for: to serve the Dark Lord. I can't stand the blood or the screams. You always said I was a coward.
It should be easy to kill Muggles, especially bound and weak and terrified. However, in spite of the lessons I learnt from babyhood, I find that it is not. I empathise. I'm afraid this is because of your friend Hermione. As much as I hate her – and believe me, I hate her more every year – I cannot deny that she is a person, with feelings, abilities and consciousness.
She is far more likely to survive this war than I am, will probably live into an old age, together with you, in a cosy home, wasting mundane days on domesticity. This is why I hate her. Because that is what I want for myself.
After iCrucio/i, when I lie aching and weak on a stone floor, my mind curls into itself and I picture a happy place. There is a fire, music, softness, warmth and you. As the pain retreats, I paint in details: kissing, laughter. You stroke my back. When I stop hurting, I can think of going further, of our bodies moving together, touching in every place, grinding, thrusting, teasing each other up to exploding point.
I expect to die here, in the place which was once my home, at the hands of the Lord I have been raised to adore. I hope you live. I hope you will be happy and that sometimes you may think of me, perhaps occasionally without hatred,
yours,
Draco Malfoy
Title: Tommorow's Chip Wrappers.
Wordcount: 455
Prompt: A First Time For Everything.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Daily Prophet, or any other published work.
When Ron got back, Draco was still staring at The Daily Prophet. Ron rubbed his shoulders.
"Come on, baby. It doesn't matter," he murmured. "We'd already told everyone we care about."
Draco continued to frown at the unfocussed picture of the two of them holding hands in a country lane which was on the front page.
"But ieveryone/i knows now," he whined. "They've all seen it. They'll all be talking about it."
"I'm sure they won't care. And if they do then, good. Because I'm proud to be with you."
Draco leaned round to kiss his lover's hand. "I'm not ashamed. I just don't want to be gossiped about."
"We'll be old news soon enough. Tomorrow's chip wrappers."
Draco twisted round to give him a disdainful look of incomprehension.
"You know," Ron said. "Today's newspaper is tomorrow's chip wrapper. You must have heard that."
"What an idiotic saying."
"No, it's not. You know when you go to a fish and chip shop and you get it wrapped in paper, well in the olden days it used to be old newspapers."
"Food wrapped in paper? What a barbaric idea! I suppose this is some Muggle obscenity."
"You've never had fish and chips?" Ron asked excitedly. "Oh, you have to! Mum used to go to knitting circle once a month and Dad always got us tea from the chippie." His eyes misted with fond nostalgia.
"I would expect nothing more from iyour/i father," Draco sneered.
Draco waited on the other side of the street as Ron queued with common-looking Muggles. After a while, he bounded across the road like a happy puppy with a dead bird. He carried a package which did, indeed, appear to be wrapped in whitish paper. He lifted it to Draco's nose and undid the loose folds at the top. Draco coughed.
Ron put his own long nose into the steam and inhaled. Then he offered it to his man.
Draco looked askance. "Cutlery?" he asked. "China?"
"Don't be silly. Stick your hand in. Careful, it's hot!"
"You expect me to eat in the street? With my hands? Out of paper? I have never done any of those things!"
"First time for everything!" Ron sang. Then he sighed, realising that Draco was not about to dive in. He selected to biggest, hottest, crispest chip, with the perfect coating of salt and vinegar and lifted it to his boyfriend's lips.
"I'm not putting that in my mouth, Weasley!"
Ron ate it himself, moaning loudly with pleasure, then laughed at the horror on Draco's face.
"Oh, stop pretending to be prissy! You forget, I know exactly where you do stick your fingers, and what you'll happily put in your mouth!"
Title: Imperfections
Rating/Warnings: R
Wordcount: 482
Prompt: Freckles, speckles and spots
Disclaimer: I do not own Ron and Draco. (More's the pity).
"These apples have speckles on them."
"They still taste just as good!" Ron bit into one.
"They're not exactly round."
"So have something else!" Ron snapped through a mouthful of fruit, spraying a little. Draco's nose wrinkled. Ron swallowed before saying, "You're s'posed to eat fruit. It's good for your skin."
"What's wrong with my skin?"
"Nothing." Ron stared at his lover's face to make sure. Then he kept staring at it because it was so very pretty. "You're supposed to eat five portions of fruit and vegetables a day."
"Why?"
"Hermione says that --"
"Oh. Her!" Draco curled a lip dismissively.
"Not just her. Have a banana."
"They have black spots."
"Better flavour!" Ron remembered how much he enjoyed a really ripe banana and grabbed one.
"My Great Aunt Auriga ate nothing but raw mouse livers all her life and it didn't do her any harm."
"Really?"
"Yes, she died perfectly healthy at the age of eighty nine by falling into a Gryphon trap."
"Perfectly healthy?"
"Physically. Raving mad of course."
"Aha!" Ron waved his banana triumphantly.
"But obviously she was raving mad to start with or she wouldn't have wanted to eat raw mouse livers."
Ron's banana drooped. "There are strawberries in the fridge," he suggested.
Draco grimaced. "All those little black dots," he muttered.
"Seeds."
"But why have them on the outside where everyone can see them? It's obscene. I don't walk around with seed plastered over me."
Ron stopped chewing.
Draco smirked, tipping his head coyly to one side. "You're picturing me coated in your seed now, aren't you?"
"You know me so well."
"I can't eat any of this!" Draco announced.
"You're too picky."
"I don't settle for second best. I am used to luxury. I deserve the very best of everything." He stalked a couple of steps. "That's why I have you." He climbed onto Ron's lap
Ron didn't dare push him off or hold him close – not with a banana skin in one hand and an apple core in the other. Messing up Draco's shirt was not permitted.
"There are some things," Draco purred with a little hip wiggle, "that I prefer with uneven colouring." He snuck his manicured fingers inside Ron's T-shirt. "There is one freckled thing I am more than happy to put in my mouth."
"That's not freckly! The rest of me may be."
"I think I would know." Draco slid gracefully to a kneeling position between Ron's thighs.
"No. It's a reaction to sunlight."
"It was rather pleasant weather on that afternoon we visited Fleur's parents. And that particular position did leave you a little exposed."
Ron blushed at the memory, then flushed with excitement as his jeans were hefted down.
"You do know, Draco, that it doesn't count as one of your five-a-day, don't you?"
But answer came there none, because Malfoys never speak with their mouths full.
Title: Waistband.
Prompt: Freckles, speckles and spots
Rating: PG-13
Words: 455
Summary: Draco is a professional model.
Warning: Language. Pants.
Disclaimer: I do not own Ron and Draco. (More's the pity).
Draco was a professional. All of his pouts were professional ones. Yes, really. He did not sulk when other models (who shall remain nameless but who could really do with working on their abs and losing a little round the thighs) got better jobs than he did. Just because that particular designer was the most successful this month, that didn't mean he would still be popular next month. And then somebody's portfolio would be looking a little out of date, wouldn't it?
As for having photographers who carelessly and selfishly decided to catch some kind of pox or something and send along a replacement ... well he wasn't going to risk getting wrinkles by frowning about that. He would just wait, practice his serene look, work on his hair and wait for whatever two-bit semi-amateur the agency decided to send along. And change management company tomorrow.
Draco certainly didn't swear when he was confronted by the abomination of a Weasel with a camera. That must have been a strangled cough you heard. Or someone else. Come to think of it, said Weasel had also done some swearing. Which was ridiculous, given the boost his career was going to be getting from being allowed to photograph the legendary Draco Malfoy.
He certainly was not sulking and "stomping around" and it was not his fault that the cable had come out of the flashy-thingy-poley-bobby. Draco was a professional. He knew cameras.
Once the camera was functioning and pointed at him, the instinct took over. He put his hands on his hips, his snarl on his lips and looked into the lens.
"Fuck! Yes!" The Weasel sounded impressed for once.
The flash fired rapidly. Draco shifted positions.
Ron looked at him. "I don't suppose ..." then he swallowed, nervously.
"Spit it out! You have done this before? You photographer, me model. You tell me how to pose. I do it. Perfectly."
"Fine! Could you push down the waistband of your jeans, then?"
"What?"
"So we can show the top of your underpants."
"Um, I wasn't expecting ..." But professionals never get flustered. They always follow instructions. They do not have wardrobe malfunctions so whichever boxers he happened to be wearing that day were, of course, chosen with deliberation and taste and not the last clean ones, which his mother had given him for Christmas.
Slow and slinky, Draco wriggled his trousers down. He was so slinky, in fact, that Ron forgot to click the shutter for a while. The underwear came into view.
"Oh, nice! Nice blue! Nice polka dots. Are they by the same designer? Only I think he's going to sell out once these photos get published!"
Draco blushed. Prettily. Which was, of course deliberate.
Title: En Train De
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Wordcount: 280
Prompt: Have A Nice Trip, See You Next Fall!
Disclaimer: I still do not own Ron and Draco.
The Hogwarts Express rattled along the track. A crowd of Gryffindors passed a flock of Slytherins in the corridor. There was snarling, insults were thrown, lips were curled. The Prince surveyed his troops from the back, aiming a last barb at The Chosen One as the two groups edged apart from each other.
He wavered for a moment before moving on to the next carriage. Then he was pulled back forcefully by the robes and dragged into the toilet.
"I hope you die this summer!" he hissed, as Ron pushed him against the door.
"Yeah," the taller boy growled as he pushed up Draco's school robes, "and I hope you get thrown into Azkaban."
"Blood traitor!" Draco pulled down the zipper on Ron's jeans,
"Death Eater!" Ron countered, his hand in Draco's green silk underwear.
"Not yet," Draco panted, his hips jerking upwards into his enemy's touch, his own fingers pulling on Ron's prick. "When I am, I'll leave a Dark Mark over your pigsty home first!"
"Not if I hex you first!"
Then there was just panting and pulling and grinding and twisting wrists, until with a cry of "Hate you Weasel!" Draco shot hot come over them both.
In another couple of tugs, Ron was arching his back and spraying the wall, spitting, "Evil, shitty, slimy little cocksucker!"
They each cleaned themselves up.
"If your Saviour doesn't manage to get you killed ..." Draco said as he checked his hair in the mirror.
"And if you escape justice ..." Ron added, tucking himself away.
"Next term, Room of Requirement, Wednesday nights?" Draco checked.
Ron peeked out into the corridor before answering, "As usual," and slipping back out into the train.
These were are written for the ficadron dra(w)bble duels at live journal, which is where the prompts came from.