He stared at the door.

He stared as if by doing so, Draco would open it, say he was just kidding , and come lay on the bed beside him. No more games, no more surprise drunken encounters. No more furious, estranged best friends.

But it didn't open.

Ron laid back in the soft silken sheets and sighed heavily. Two scenes played themselves over and over on his closed eyelids, Draco passed out in his arms in the hall, the same boy a few hours later trying to get in his freaking pants.

Had he been faking the whole thing? Was it just another way for Draco to get him in his bed?

But the alcohol on his breath, the falling over, the passing out? That was real, not unless you were dead – or out cold – could you be dropped like that on a stone floor without responding.

But his eyes, his eyes had been clear and as silver-gray as ever, staring innocently at his while his fingers tried to unbuckle his belt without him noticing.

He crawled under the covers and tried to shut out these useless thoughts so he could sleep. No use. He tossed and turned until his eyes fell again on his clothes thrown on the floor. Those that he had let be taken off so willingly and tossed carelessly aside.

He looked away in shame. His body seemed out of his control then, like it was now. He was thinking of Draco possibly tricking him and walking out, and all his body wanted was Draco beside him, near him like that again.

Pathetic.

But it felt good to be held by another person, knowing they wanted you that way, too.

His mind couldn't make itself up. . . did he hate Draco for some of the things he did, or. . . did he love him? His stomach flip-flopped thinking that. Love, it seemed like another problem on his plate at moment.

But that was just ignoring it, avoiding it. Now that the word, the idea had been introduced into his head, it bounced around inside. It made him feel nervous and unsure all of a sudden, what if Draco just laughed in his face? Or just smothered his words with another mind-numbing kiss.

Where was he now? It had been an hour since the door had been slammed and he was left lying there.

Ron reluctantly got up form the large comfortable bed, stopping for a second to imagine what could have happened if he had given into him.

What exactly would have Draco done?

He shook his head, those flitting images would just distract him. He put on his clothes quickly, picked up Draco's shirt, and left the room.

He had to find him. If only to get him to explain what he'd done.

–

Draco was sitting in an alcove. Thinking. Shivering, since he had foolishly walked away without putting on a shirt.

Why had he gone and done that? Toying with Ron.

He could never leave well enough alone. He knew Ron had seen the difference in him, from silly out of his mind with alcohol, to teasing with those things he'd tried to do.

He could see it in his eyes, the way they widened and he could've almost seen him thinking about it, wondering.

But he had to be sure.

Of what exactly? That he wouldn't leave you all alone when he chose to patch things up with his friend? Rather than being your secret almost-lover night after night?

Why did he have to push things? They always, always broke. But this was still ok, he had messed up but there was still a chance! He had left, before he wouldn't have been able to stop himself, very possibly he could have forced Ron into doing something he didn't want to do.

He had wanted it though. He could tell by the way his body had trembled under his fingers, in the way Ron looked away and shut his eyes when he had said no. But he had said no, and that was that.

He had wanted to have him right then. Ron had seen through his lies, held and calmed him while that horrible nightmare had him in its grip, things no one else had gotten close to.

And he didn't run away. Was it possible that – that Ron could love him? No, no, Ron just felt sorry for him. And liked him. Somewhat.

But he did love Ron. Even if it was in its own messed up way, even if it made him feel a little scared and vulnerable.

He was up now, pacing back and forth, his thoughts going back and forth.

Why did he manipulate? Forcing people to do what he wanted was easy, but Ron, he was one of the few to refuse, to resist. And he had tried, without even consciously knowing, to force him. But he didn't give in.

This whole . . . relationship . . . was messing with his mind! He didn't know what to think, what to do anymore. His thoughts were so conflicted it was giving him a headache.

He stopped walking and just sat down on the floor against the wall, legs straight out. His eyes closed automatically and images danced across his eyelids, if only he had let him do what he wanted . . . .

His eyes snapped open when he heard footsteps approaching, his mind racing back to reality.

He looked up and saw Ron standing in front of him.

–

"Hello, Draco, " Ron said to the boy sitting on the ground. He looked a bit ashamed, like he'd realized just what he did now.

"Hi."

"Get up and put that on," he said, nudging him with his shoe, tossing him his shirt. "I don't want to talk to you like this."

"No," he replied simply. And sulkily. Draco patted the stone floor next to him, his eyes not meeting Ron's as he pulled on the shirt, still shivering a little.

"Fine." He plopped down on the ground. "But I'm not letting you get away with this. No walking away this time."

Draco just nodded. He looked pathetic, like a little kid having to explain why he did the bad thing he did.

"Why did you leave?" Ron whispered.

"You-" he sighed. "You came for me. You could have just left me there on the ground after –" He stopped.

"After what?" Ron was sitting facing him now, trying to meet his eyes.

"After Harry saw you. Saw us."

"You mean, you . . . heard?"

He nodded again. "I just heard voices and then passed out again. But I assumed it was him. I left because you wouldn't let me make you feel better, forget for a while. You had to question it."

". . . But you weren't hungover or anything. I seemed like some trick!" Ron exclaimed, half-whispering.

"It was just a little spell, Ron. When I pass out from alcohol, the effects wear off quicker, I just had to sleep for two or three hours and that's it," Draco explained, their eyes meeting for the first time. He gave a little laugh as he looked back down at the floor, "I really was drunk when you found me though."

"But why were you drinking? . . . Is it really that bad?" Ron had to look away when he asked that, it seemed too. . . personal a question.

Draco was still looking at Ron, trying to make him meet his gaze. "Sometimes I just have to forget, you know?"

"Yeah. . . . So, you know he knows now, right?"

"Yeah."

Silence. Ron was still staring at the ground.

"Are you going to talk to him?"

A sigh escaped Ron's lips, he fidgeted with his fingers. "I guess I have to. Can't leave it like it is, can I?"

"Right." Draco stood up suddenly as if to leave again.

"I thought I said no walking away?" Ron asked, standing up also and dusting himself off. He hurried to catch up with him, he was already halfway down the hall.

Draco turned to face Ron, just as he reached him. He seemed thoughtful, sad, nervous, and happy, all at the same time. He took Ron into his arms suddenly, crushing him in a hug.

"You know I love you?" he whispered softly into Ron's ear.

He responded by giving Draco a small kiss on his neck. Ron took him by the shoulders and looked at him. Draco looked...a little scared. But expectant.

Ron leaned in and gave him a knee-weakening kiss on the mouth. It seemed to go on for eternity and say what he wanted, but without any words. But then Ron pulled back, lips barely parting, just enough for him to talk, looking right into the other's eyes.

"I love you, too."

Draco kept attacking him on the way back to his room, pulling him into the shadows, always their secret place.

To kiss him for the longest time.

And to just hear those words again.