So I promised troubles last chapter... Didn't quite work out like I planned it. In fact, a lot of things turned out differently than anticipated. For starters, the story has suddenly turned M. It's a bit soon, but the boys wanted it. So who am I to deny their wishes?

Much thanks to the mysterious reviewer R who pointed out that adultery is not the same thing as adulthood. At all. I'm quite the perfectionist so even the thought alone of a mistake as awful as that made me shiver. So thanks hon ^^

Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling in disguise so I don't own shit.

Chapter 3

"You know, I've never had roasted marshmallows before," David said as he studied the half-melted piece of candy. "Didn't even know they existed."

Charlie grinned. "I'm not surprised, they're muggle candy."

"Muggle candy? You're feeding me something that's made by muggles?" David eyed the marshmallows with disgust. "That's horrible – those things are horrible. I can't believe you tricked me into eating them!"

Charlie laughed. "Oh shut it. You liked them well enough when you didn't know they were muggle-made."

"Did not."

Charlie threw a marshmallow at him. It bumped against his head and landed in the grass, right in front of the campfire Charlie had set up a few meters away from his tent. The sun had given way for the dark night sky many hours ago. It was a cool night and the stars were often obscured by banks of clouds, but by the fire it was more than pleasantly warm. Charlie was only wearing a white t-shirt and jeans; David a pine green dress shirt and a pair of khakis.

"Ouch," David whined. "And now you're molesting me as well. You're the worst friend I've ever had."

"Deep down you love it." Charlie winked. Oh dear merlin, he was totally flirting, wasn't he? And he hadn't even had a drop of alcohol.

David raised his eyebrows but smiled at the same time. His grey eyes glistened in the light of the fire. "I don't think you know me quite well enough to make such a claim."

"Then I'll just have to get to know you even better, don't I?"

"Careful Weasly, you're playing with fire…"

"Then it's a good thing I'm a dragon tamer, dealing with fire is my expertise."

Draco laughed – it was a sound Charlie was starting to love. Frankly, he was starting to love a lot of things about David. The graceful way he moved, the way his white-blond strands brushed his shoulders. His playful sneers and insults and his natural haughtiness. He really, really liked him. Perhaps even a bit too much. It was overwhelming and he had the feeling he was sliding down a hill that was rapidly growing steeper and steeper. But maybe that was a good thing. It could be, if David felt the same way. Charlie wasn't sure that the blonde was gay, but he highly suspected it. Charlie had been making suggestive remarks all night and he was pretty sure that the semi-sultry glances the blonde had been sending in his direction weren't just a fabrication of his imagination.

Also, he was just way too pretty to be straight.

Charlie remembered the child-like excitement he'd felt when he'd found David standing on his 'doorstep' a few hours after sunset. He gave the blonde a full tour of the reserve and enjoyed the various expressions of awe that appeared on his face. They had also visited Lara and Charlie was once again amazed to see how good David was with her. He truly would have made a great dragon tamer.

They had talked about a lot of things and as they spoke Charlie discovered that David was not only very intelligent – he and Hermoine would get along tremendously well – they also had a great common interest besides dragons: quidditch. David told him he didn't play himself, but that he was a fervent supporter of the Appleby Arrows. Charlie himself preferred Puddlemere United, which led to a lengthy discussion about the finer points of the noble art of seeking and the infamous Parkin's Pincer (a move most people thought should be illegal, but both Draco and Charlie though genius – quidditch is not a game for pussies.)

Charlie's brow furrowed when he saw something small moving in the dark. The shape came closer rapidly, and Charlie realized it was an owl. The bird dropped a small, flat package in his lap. It was the latest edition of the Quibbler, the most popular magazine in wizarding Britian. The Quibbler came out weekly and had a knack for arriving at odd and uncomfortable moments. Last week Charlie had had a startled awakening at three 'o clock in the morning because an owl was pecking on his forehead, demanding payment for the Quibbler that the stupid bloody bird had dropped right on top of the half-eaten pizza that was lying on the floor next to the bed. Not Charlie's favorite way to wake up, and definitely not his favorite time.

The owl sat down on his shoulder and hooted. Charlie fished in his pocket for coins. After the bird had accepted the payment and had disappeared into the night again Charlie studied the cover of the magazine. As usual, the cover was so colourful it made his eyes water. A picture of a triangular glass flask filled with a lavender-blue potion adorned the front page. The name of the magazine was printed in shiny golden letters, and for the headline a fluorescent green font was used. Addictive Calming Elixer Banned From Shops, Charlie read.

"Glad I never used that one," David said as he leaned towards Charlie to get a better look at the magazine. Their shoulders touched and Charlie could smell the other man's shampoo.

"What would you need a calming elixir for?" Charlie asked, his voice suddenly slightly hoarse.

David blinked. "Nothing," he said with a hint of defensiveness in his voice. "I don't need it, therefore I never used it. I do smoke though, sometimes, to calm my nerves. Not that I'm nervous very often. But smoking helps either way."

"You're making very little sense," Charlie said amused. "Are you nervous right now?"

David cocked his head. His irises reminded Charlie of molten silver. "Not particularly, no. Are you?"

Charlie shifted, so that their faces were only a few inches apart. David didn't back away. The blonde's hand had somehow managed to find its way to Charlie's knee. Charlie could feel the heath of his palm through his jeans.

Charlie put his hand on top of David's. He studied the ring on the blonde's finger and rubbed it with his thumb. The ring was silver with a green stone and looked very old and valuable. The stone was embraced by two serpent-like creatures with diamond eyes.

Charlie's curiosity was piqued. "What's the story behind that ring?" he asked.

David kissed him. It was smooth and sweet and Charlie's initial surprise quickly faded in a haze of lust. The mysterious ring was instantly forgotten. He wrapped his arms around David and pulled him as close as humanly possible. Their kiss was deep and dazzling and Charlie could not get enough of it.

Until David suddenly broke away. The blonde scrambled backwards in an almost ungraceful manner, looking somewhat panicked.

Charlie swollowed, slightly breathless and light-headed from the kiss. He felt an odd mixture of emotions of which confusion was the most prominent one.

David stood up and brushed some barely-there dirt off the knees of his pants, avoiding Charlie's gaze.

"What? What is it?" Charlie asked and got on his feet as well.

David bit on his kiss-bruised lips and cast a sorrowful glance in Charlie's direction. "I- I'm sorry, this was a mistake."

A mistake. Hurt flashed in Charlie's eyes. "Why, what did I do?"

"Nothing," David said. "It's not you alright, it's me."

"Don't you dare pull that shit on me!" Charlie scowled. Anger boiled up inside him and he didn't try to stop it. He had every reason to be angry. David had kissed him, dammit, not the other way around. He didn't deserve this bullshit.

David knitted his eyebrows. His cheeks were slightly flushed. "I'm just being honest," he gritted.

"Honest?" Charlie balled his hands into fists. "If you're going to be honest then tell me what's wrong!"

"Why are you so angry?!" David snapped back.

"Why am I angry? Because you fucking kissed me! Then you suddenly pull back and now you refuse to tell me why!"

"Because I don't like you alright!"

"Bullshit," Charlie said coolly.

David's eyes narrowed. Then he smirked. It was an ugly smirk; cruel and confident. "I – don't – like – you," he said slowly and agonizing. "You're just Weasly trash. You're pathetic, even more so if you believed only for a second that something serious was going on here. I just used you. And now I'm tired of you and I don't wish spend another second in your miserable company."

Charlie wanted to deck him. He didn't buy even the smallest word of the venomous bullcrap the blond had been spitting, but he still wanted to deck him. It had to be showing in his face, because David backed away a few steps, his face still the epitome of superior cruelty.

"You are such a fucking wanker," Charlie gritted, too mad to even raise his voice. His arms were trembling and it was a miracle his voice wasn't too.

He hated the person that was standing before him now. This wasn't David; this David purposely being the greatest git on earth to distract Charlie from the real issue. But Charlie wasn't that dense, and he was livid with David for believing he was.

Charlie grabbed David's shirt and yanked him forwards. "You are going to tell me the truth right now." His voice was a low whisper, hoarse with anger and – dammit – sexual frustration.

David's silver eyes widened and his mouth fell open, but he quickly regained his composure and jerked himself free from Charlie's grip.

"I don't have to tell you anything," he hissed, and Charlie was reminded of a snake driven into a corner.

"Yes, you do." Charlie tried to grab his shirt again but the blonde smacked his arm away.

"Don't – touch – me," he said lowly. His gaze was searing, and Charlie felt an insane sort of arousal.

"What if I want to?" he breathed. His blood was positively boiling and Charlie felt as if his skin was on fire. He wanted to yell at the blond and punch him and kiss him.

"Oh you don't, believe me," David retorted haughtily, slowly shaking his head. That cruel smirk returned and Charlie felt a chill.

David yanked down the sleeve of his left arm. A tattoo came into sight, and the air around Charlie suddenly felt ten degrees colder than before. The tattoo was a green skull with a coiling silver-black snake protruding from its mouth. The colours looked faded, as if the ink had been exposed to an overdose of sunshine, but the imagery was still unmistakable: it was the Dark Mark.

"I was a Death Eater," David said, his voice colder than ice. "And my name is not David but Draco – Draco Malfoy."

Charlie was completely and utterly speechless. He just gaped at the tattoo, as reality dawned on him like pieces of hailstone.

Draco stepped back and let out a shaky breath. The cruel expression fell off his face like a shattered mask. He looked just like Charlie felt: lost and drained.

Draco managed to collect himself before Charlie did. "So, now you know the truth," he said, his voice growing stronger with every word. "Feeling better now? Because I sure as fuck don't."

"Why?" Charlie whispered. "Why did you lie about who you are?"

Draco stared at Charlie as if he'd just asked the most moronic question he'd ever heard. "Why did I lie about who I am?" He breathed a small, joyless laugh. "Because I don't want to be who I am, that's why! Do you know how people look at me when they know who I am? I'll tell you how they look: appalled. They look at me like I'm diseased, like I'm some kind of monster. Either that or a walking stack of gold." His tone was so bitter it was tangible, and made Charlie's skin crawl.

All anger and fight seemed to have flowed from the blonde, leaving behind somebody who looked who fragile and naked. Charlie stared at him like he saw him for the first time. And perhaps that was the truth. He was looking at Draco Malfoy now, not David Faith. Draco Malfoy, about whose personality and tricks he'd heard Ron complain at least a million times. Draco Malfoy, who had tortured in the name of Voldemort and had been tortured by the hand of the very same man. Draco Malfoy, who's wand Harry had used to defeat Voldemort and who Harry had saved from a life of prison.

"Don't just stand there, say something!" the blond shouted. He looked angry again, but different than before. Not in control. He was breathing tight, his eyes edged with pain and desperation.

Charlie slowly stepped forwards. David – no, Draco – looked at him, his face the epitome of uncertainty. Charlie reached up. He wasn't thinking – couldn't think, because everything had suddenly gone haywire and thinking would involve facing things Charlie didn't want to face. His body was moving out of its own. He slid his fingers through Draco's hair, knuckles brushing his cheekbone. The blonde didn't flinch, was frozen like a statue. His eyes were wide and glossy with tears. There was confusion in them, and disbelief and desire.

Charlie's lips grazed Draco's pulse, his breath breaking hotly across his neck. He felt the blond shiver. Charlie wrapped his arms around Draco's hips, pressing him close. His face was buried in the blonde's warm neck and he felt like he was getting high on his scent. He started kissing the pale skin, tasting salt on his tongue.

"Charlie," the blonde all but moaned.

It was more than Charlie could take. He crushed their mouths together. The blond reciprocated with a hunger that bordered on desperation and Charlie groaned. Nothing mattered anymore; nothing but the sweet taste of Draco's mouth, the strong press of his lips and tongue.

Somehow they ended up in the grass; Charlie on top and Draco underneath. Charlie's erection was begging for attention and he rubbed himself against the blonde. The friction felt so good Charlie could cry.

Draco was panting hard, his hands tugging at the hem of Charlie's shirt. Charlie took the hint. He broke the kiss and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest. Draco's eyes settled on the dragon tattoo beneath Charlie's left collar bone.

Charlie didn't give him much time to admire it. He ripped Draco's dress shirt open, not bothering with trivial things like buttons. Charlie's hands roamed around the blonde's chest. His skin was soft and smooth except for the gruesome scar that went all the way from his color bone to the waistline of his khakis. Charlie trailed it with his tongue, then turned his ministrations to the blonde's left wrist. He kissed his way down to the Dark Mark – and sucked on it. Hard. It tasted like sin.

Draco gasped for breath and Charlie smirked. He could feel the blonde's body yearning beneath his. Draco licked his bruised lips almost obscenely and Charlie crushed their mouth together again, tasting blood. His hands fumbled at the blonde's fly, freeing the beautiful strain of desire beneath his khaki confines. With the help of Draco's purposeful hands Charlie's own pants were down in no time and he pressed their erections together. The skin-to-skin contact felt so good Charlie thought he could come right there and then.

He sucked hard on Draco's neck, marking his skin. Draco had his hands in Charlie's short hair and nibbled on his earlobe.

"Please Charlie – n-need you, now," he whispered hotly, his voice shaking with desire.

He didn't have to ask twice. Charlie reached for the back pocket of his jeans, where his wand was. He wasted no time and cast a non-verbal lubrication spell. Draco shuddered when the cold lubricant filled him.

Charlie watched as Draco's face twisted in both pain and pleasure when he shoved two fingers inside. Draco arched his back and whimpered. Charlie didn't think he could get any harder, yet it happened.

He couldn't bear it any longer, he had to be inside of him now. He removed his fingers, raised Draco's hips and thrusted inside. Draco let out a sharp cry and Charlie bit down on his bottom lip so hard he drew blood - because dammit the blonde was tight.

"Y-you alright?" Charlie asked, panting heavily.

"Move – just move for Merlin's sake," Draco managed to say.

Charlie moved. It felt so good he barely knew what to do with himself. The world was spinning and flashes of white danced before his eyes. He closed them and pressed his forehead against Draco's shoulder.

His strokes grew harder and faster, his breathing increasingly erratic. His mind vaguely registered that Draco was moaning his name, and that he was panting his. The blonde's nails were digging in his back, leaving marks all over him.

Breathless groans escalated and the flashes of white before his eyes turned bright as lightning. Oh fuck oh fuckohfuck One last, impossibly deep stroke and Charlie was done for. He came harder than he ever had – harder than he ever thought was humanly possible.

Draco bit down on the sensitive spot between the base of Charlie's neck and shoulder and came as well.

Charlie's body went limp, his head still pressed against Draco's bony shoulder. Both were panting to regain their breath.

"Fuck…" Charlie muttered when his oxygen levels had restored enough for him to speak.

"Fuck indeed," Draco said dryly and Charlie chuckled. The night air felt deliciously cool against his hot, sweaty skin.

And so they lay there, naked in the grass underneath the watchful stars. Charlie was content to just fall asleep there and then, on top of Draco with his face buried in the crook of the blonde's neck, were it not for the fact that he was starting to feel pretty bloody cold. The campfire had died some time ago.

Charlie rolled onto his side. His eyes locked with Draco's and his hand absently skated down the blonde's flank, following and the sharp line of his hipbone before flattening on his tight. He was aware that Draco was studying his face, probably looking for signs of regret. He wouldn't find them, because Charlie didn't regret what they had done, and he hoped the blonde didn't either.

"You know…" Charlie started, though he didn't know what he wanted to say exactly. He just knew that he had to say something, something with meaning; something that expressed just how much he did not regret what had happened. "This was…"

Amazing? Very much so.
Unexpected? In some ways.
Weird but at the same time not? There was a truth if there ever was one.

Charlie decided to throw his cards on the table. "Will you stay the night?"

Draco's eyes widened slightly. "You want me to stay?"

"If you want to. Do you want to?"

Draco sat up. "Yeah," he said. "I would like that."

Charlie couldn't it help it – he smiled and crossed the distance between their mouths. The kiss was soft and gentle and spoke in volumes that neither of them could have put into words.

Draco wrapped his arms around Charlie's neck and deepened the kiss. "Let's go inside," he purred against Charlie's lips. "It's cold as balls out here and I believe I have grass in uncomfortable places."

Charlie smiled. "I believe a hot shower will effectively take care of both those problems…"

"I believe it will take care of more than just those problems," Draco said seductively and he stroked Charlie's length.

A pleasant shiver of lust and anticipation shot down Charlie's spine. He raised his eyebrows playfully and let his hands wander down to Draco's ass.
"If you keep that up I assure you we won't even make it halfway to the shower."

- TBC -

I can't promise anything for next chapter, since I don't know exactly what needs to be written next yet, but I'm fairly sure that there will be breakfast and some things that are necessary for the plot at hand.

Please let me know what you thought of this… lemon? I suppose it's a lemon, though I've never really understood how sex can be related to something as sour and asexual as a piece of citrus fruit.