Disclaimer: All characters, spells, objects, etc mentioned belong to JK Rowling. This is a 100% fanmade project meant to amuse other fans of the Harry Potter fandom.
"Harry!" Hermione whispered in an admonishing tone in the dark hallway. "That's my foot!" She was holding a tray tightly in her hands, balancing the items on it: a lit candle, a large chocolate cupcake and a cup of steaming hot tea.
"Sorry!" Harry whispered back. Why did they go muggle on this, anyway? Hermione could have balanced the whole thing with her wand and he could've lit the path with his. It would've been much easier. He scratched his head as they tried not to trip in the messy hallway, making their way to Ron's bedroom. He had been stepping on Hermione's foot three times already from the kitchen. Wincing, as he this time accidentally stepped on something hard and painful lying on the floor, he decided Ron really needed to clean up in here.
"Okay, on my count you open the door," Hermione whispered as they stood outside of Ron's bedroom. "Then we'll sing. Okay? Got that?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah."
"Good. Ready? One... Two... Three... Now—"
As the door swung open- their cheery voices filled the quiet space in the early morning.
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Ron
Happy birthday to you
"Happy 20th, Ron!" Hermione and Harry beamed as the youngest Weasley boy sat up in his bed, flaming hair in disarray and a sleepy grin on his face.
"Yay!" Ron exclaimed, pulling them both in for a hug after Hermione carefully put down the tray on Ron's bedside table.
"We wanted to surprise you!" She said, sitting down by his left side while Harry was to his right.
"Yeah, happy birthday mate," Harry smiled, the bed creaking a little as he sat down.
"I'm glad it was you and not Mum showing up." Ron rubbed his eyes, sat up straighter in the bed and shook the sleepiness away. "She'd be brutal if she saw the current state of the flat." He scrunched up his freckled nose, gaze roaming over the messy piles of clothing laying on the floor, along with his chess set, Chudley cannons collection and a Quidditch kit. Ron was rather proud he managed to get his own place a couple of months ago, but he couldn't keep it tidy even if his life depended on it. He was sure his Mum's wrath would echo through the walls if she knew just how bad he was at it. She'd been reluctant letting him move in the first place and live alone. Ron had even overheard her trying to convince Harry to move in with him ("he'll need lots of help, Harry dear") but thankfully his best mate convinced her that Ron could perfectly well manage to live by himself. Damn straight. Harry had, however, not managed to stop Mrs Weasley from demanding both Harry and Hermione had spare keys to Ron's flat.
"Honestly Ron, I don't blame her." Hermione looked around the room too, disapproving.
Ron nudged her on the arm before reaching for the cupcake on the tray. "It's my birthday, don't lecture me, all right?"
The young woman smiled. "No, Harry and I will help you clean up. Your family comes this afternoon -Yes Ron we've been very strict about them not showing up a moment earlier- and tonight, we're going out the three of us."
"And presents?" Ron asked hopefully, blue eyes gleaming. He didn't care he was technically an adult, getting presents on your birthday was the best part with having one. He couldn't help noticing his friends, apart from the tray, had showed up empty-handed. It made him curious.
And more so when Harry and Hermione exchanged peculiar looks.
"Er… Well, um… Hermione, why don't you tell him?" Harry shifted a little beside Ron, suddenly looking nervous.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It was your idea!"
"Not entirely! You suggested it first! I wanted to get you Gordon Horton's autograph..."
"Yes, because that's so useful to Ron!" Hermione snapped.
Ron's eyes widened, turning to Harry. "Are you serious? A real authentic autograph?"
"A real signed picture," Harry concluded with a sigh. "However, Hermione… kinda talked me into something else. I'm sorry mate."
Ron turned to Hermione now, glaring. What could be a better present than an autograph from someone in your favourite Quidditch team of all time?! Unless Hermione somehow had conjured the whole team waiting for him in the living room or something, that might've been the only thing beating a signed photo he'd worship for life.
"Well…" Hermione let out a deep breath, silently praying the redhead would take what she was about to say well and understand they only wanted the best for him. "We -Harry and I- were thinking… that we all go to a club tonight. There's a brand new one in Diagon Alley and we thought it'd be fun."
"A club?" Ron cocked his head, suspicious. "Why? Are you organising a surprise party?" The last part was said in a rather hopeful voice and he broke out in a wide smile again. Not what he expected, but it'd be fun.
"Not exactly…" Hermione wrung her hands a little nervously. "It's not a regular club. It's a club meant for — We want to support your choices, we feel like it's important that we—" She blushed vigorously, trailing off.
"A GAY CLUB?!" Ron hollered a steady ten minutes later when Harry and Hermione finally had pieced together what their fantastic birthday gift to Ron was.
"Told you he'd take it well," Harry said, voice dripping with sarcasm as they both -still sat on Ron's bed- watched the redhead who now stood in front of his closet and pulled a jumper over his head, one arm getting caught in frustration as he kept yelling and stating why this was a terrible, terrible idea and worst gift ever.
Especially when he learned why his two friends wanted to take him out to such a horrendous place.
"Please Ron," Hermione tried coaxing. "We think it's good for you. You seriously need to get out. Holding up in your flat all day can't possibly be healthy and-"
"I go to work!" Ron growled as he emerged through the neck opening, eyes shooting daggers at his friends.
"Yes, but all you do is stay here after you get home… While Harry and I- We have our own lives… You deserve one too! How long has it been since you last had sex, for one thing?"
Ron blinked.
Harry looked at Ron with nervous, pleading eyes as if to say 'Please don't answer that one and for the love of Merlin spare me the details' while Hermione crossed her arms and arched one eyebrow, challenging him.
"Well, go on!" She urged when Ron didn't answer right away. "How long?"
Ron went crimson. "Th-that's none of your—Hey, how long has it been for you?!" He retorted back.
Hermione smiled confidently, completely unashamed. "I have a new boyfriend. And it so happens that we—"
"I didn't actually want to know that!" Ron felt his voice break as if he was back in puberty all over again.
"Hermione…" Harry went a little red too. He, much like Ron, preferred if they all kept their intimate lives behind locked doors and never spoke about it. Ron certainly did not want to know about Harry's bedroom adventures considering Harry was dating his little sister.
"Oh come on you two!" Hermione snapped. "You are so childish! Seriously, grow up! Anyway, can we get back to the subject please?! Ron, we're going to this club tonight. I think you should give it a chance. Thank goodness it opened last month, it has been a challenge tracking down activities for gay pure bloods, our world isn't exactly diverse so to speak. I was looking into support groups or speed dating at first but-"
"Hermione!" Ron interrupted, throwing up his hands in the air. "I don't want to go to some sodding club! People have no boundaries in those! Why is everyone obsessed with me finding someone anyway?! You, Mum, Ginny, my brothers… I'm tired of it! I don't want to go and that's final!"
And with those defiant words- Ronald Weasley stomped into his kitchen at full speed, leaving Harry and Hermione slightly despondent.
Ron was perfectly comfortable with him fancying blokes. Really, he was. However, he was not comfortable with how everyone around him reacted when he came out. Nearly a year had gone by since he broke the news and suddenly everyone he knew had a colleague, a friend's friend, someone's distant cousin or even a neighbour they wanted to introduce him to. It was infuriating to say the least. He was perfectly capable of finding his own bloody dates, for Merlin's sake! Just because his last -and only- experience had been when someone smuggled Firewhiskey into Hogwarts on Halloween a couple of years ago and Ron got a few too many and suddenly snogging and shoving his hand down Theodore Nott's pants in a broom closet had seemed like a brilliant idea. It wasn't. Why did attractive people get sorted into Slytherin, anyway?! It wasn't fair and just because there had been no one since then did not mean he couldn't score someone without help, thank you very much.
Anyhow, he'd managed to keep his sexual preference from everyone until he had felt ready to tell. Everyone had taken it rather well- better than he had expected, actually. But as supportive as everyone around him was- they all seemed almost desperate he'd find a partner. His Mum had never wanted to arrange blind dates for his brothers or Ginny but she tried talking Ron into going on one at least once a week. The wizarding world was so small and secluded, yet there always seemed to be a random bloke at the Ministry Mrs Weasley badly wanted him to meet. Ginny, giggling, often asked Ron who his type was so she could pair him up with one of her Quidditch friends. Merlin, she was such a girl sometimes… And Hermione… Constantly on the lookout for finding meetups and activities for gay wizards.
Harry wasn't nearly as irritating as the women in Ron's life. But while they had been of the opinion that finally Ron was out and about (Hermione's first comment was: 'About time, I was wondering when you would figure it out'), Harry had seemed to be a little more surprised. Not that Harry was against Ron being gay, he just didn't know what to say. And there was this other thing too. Ron had been a little hurt, and they had had a fight as Harry for some reason had felt uncomfortable by this fact and basically asked if Ron, during all those years they'd shared a dorm, had been looking twice at him or…
'Merlin, Harry! I've never thought of you like that, what the hell are you on about?!" Ron had responded, giving Harry a lecture in true Hermione fashion how everyone with a cock didn't attract him. It had taken Harry a few weeks to process the whole thing about Ron being gay, but eventually he had come around and accepted it. Ron was grateful Harry wasn't as interested as the girls in hearing or stating his opinions about Ron's love life. They had a silent, mutual agreement- the less they knew about each other in that way, the better.
He didn't know where his loved ones got the idea he missed someone from, anyway. It wasn't like he complained about being single. He didn't. Ron was perfectly fine with it, actually. He wasn't jealous in the slightest that Hermione was dating some bloke named Matt at the Ministry who was tall and handsome and insightful and he absolutely didn't care that Harry and Ginny recently had gotten engaged and the four of them had double dates two Saturdays per month. Really, he was happy for them.
Maybe he felt a bit lonely.
A little left out.
And maybe he cried during particularly depressing nights after watching that ghastly The Notebook Ginny had accidentally left behind on that DeeVeeDee player he'd gotten from Harry one Christmas. Ron would never admit this to anyone, even if he was held at wand point. Was it really that obvious to his family members? Still though, Ron wanted it to happen naturally for him. Like it had done for Hermione and Harry. He didn't want to be forced into blind dates and getting introduced to friend's friends. And he certainly didn't want to hook up with someone in a shoddy club!
Ron wasn't even someone who went to regular clubs!
One clean-out, a visit from the whole Weasley family, some presents and a birthday cake later, Ron stood with Hermione and Harry in front of the Sin bin, with its huge colourful blinking neon sign standing out like a sore thumb in a dark corner of Diagon Alley, illuminating the dark street with a greenish light. He was certain he was about to enter hell. Ron couldn't believe Hermione and Harry had managed to talk him into going with them but then again he reckoned anyone would comply if Hermione Granger looked at you with such a deadly look she easily could've rivalled the basilisk in the chamber of secrets.
"Murder me, Harry," Ron muttered while Hermione was handing in their coats to the flamboyant young man in a colour changing tank top at the door, busy rocking his hips to the beat of the music from the inside. "And you owe me that bloody autograph you passed up for this madness!" He was a little flushed because of the heat -it was surprisingly warm- and in the soft pink spotlight he very closely resembled a ginger-haired beetroot.
"I know, mate," Harry mumbled back. "I'm sorry! But I think Hermione's right- this could be fun. We never do anything together. And I—" He looked at Ron with serious eyes, "I still feel terrible for reacting so strangely about you coming out. I wanna support you, you're my best friend." Harry patted Ron on the back chummily, smiling.
"Okay, but if tonight goes to shit, I'm murdering you," Ron replied, patting Harry hard on the back, too.
"Fair enough," Harry agreed.
As they made their way across the over-crowded dance floor- dodging a man in a pink tutu skirt twirling by, two women kissing and a flirtatious man winking to a reddening Harry just to name a few, finally making it up to the bar counter- Ron was definitely sure they had not only reached hell, but the very deepest levels of it. He looked at the open area with scared eyes. Merlin's beard, this was terrifying. The interior was so colourful and bright it looked like somebody had puked the rainbow all over the room, green, orange and yellow sofas, purple tables and blinking disco lights. The DJ was blasting away through the magical speakers with some upbeat techno and everyone in the club were in various states of undressed. Ron blinked and turned away as a young man only wearing his underpants was doing some kind of dance performance to a cheering crowd.
Yeah, he was sure he was going to murder Hermione when they got home. Or Harry. Or both of them.
"Tell me honey, is that your real hair or a wig?"
A blue-haired and rather posh witch wearing heavy eye-makeup and a slim-fit designer suit had walked up to the bar where the trio stood busy examining a drinking menu and was now leaning in close to Hermione, touching her wild brown hair with a gentle hand.
"Um… It's real," Hermione said, blushing without looking at the witch.
"You're so pretty love, would you mind me buying you a drink?" The blue-haired asked and Harry and Ron shared amused looks, both of them trying not to laugh as Hermione blushed more and more furiously.
"No thanks."
"Aww, come on, just one! No harm in that, hmm?"
"I have a boyfriend!" Hermione yelled, trying to shout down the loud music.
"But you're in a gay club," The blue-haired woman declared with a smile. "It's okay darling. You don't have to lie. I understand. We've all been closeted once and had 'boyfriends.' Come find me when you're ready for that drink, yeah?" She winked to Hermione, leaving the bar counter and headed for the dance floor.
Neither Ron nor Harry could contain their laughters anymore, Hermione's confused and embarrassed expression was priceless.
"I-I didn't expect that…" Hermione mumbled.
"Harry!" Ron shouted over Hermione's head. "Please let me remember that forever!" He grinned at Hermione who scowled, "Told you people in places like these have no boundaries."
"Oh, shut up."
They ordered their drinks. Ron requested something with 'lots of alcohol' in it and was now happily sipping a rather strong, but sweet orange-flavoured drink that made him soft in the knees and a little more relaxed. Hermione needed a shot after the encounter with the witch and Harry ordered a regular beer. The trio had taken to a red sofa in a more deserted corner of the club and was watching the scene- all three feeling a little awkward and slightly uneasy.
"I can't believe somebody hit on you," Harry said to Hermione. Both he and Ron were still snickering at the bar encounter that had happened twenty minutes before. Especially Ron found it hilarious the more of the sweet drink went down his throat.
Maybe this wasn't so bad.
"We're here for your sake, Ron!" Hermione hissed angrily, tired of being teased after enduring ten more minutes of the boys laughs and comments. It only caused her two friends to snicker some more. "Maybe we should head up to the dancefloor or something? Show ourselves. People seem very… eager in this place, surely somebody'll flirt with Ron."
"Nah, I'm good," Ron said happily, his cheeks a little pink from the drink. "That witch hitting on you was the best thing happening this day. D'you reckon we should go find her?"
"Ron, I swear-"
"Oh, isn't this cute?"
A voice, mysteriously familiar and which seemed to come out of nowhere, breaking the laughters from Harry and Ron, suddenly appeared. It belonged to a haughty-looking blond wearing dashing dark purple robes, cut to fit his slender frame perfectly. Stormy grey eyes, pointed face and a wicked smile completed the look of someone neither Harry, Hermione or Ron had seen in years and most certainly did not miss either.
"Potty, Weasel and the Mudblood, how peculiar," Draco Malfoy drawled lazily, daintily taking a sip of his red wine. "This place is seriously going to the dogs if they let you three in here."
Ron's body tensed as it so often had done when they were schoolboys and the Slytherin was around. His previously good mood died instantly, the smile faded away as Malfoy smirked to them as if he'd just discovered something macabre and hilarious at the same time.
And it hit Ron in that very moment that Malfoy hadn't changed in the slightest.
He was still an annoying and mean little prick.
That's why Ron, as he so often had done at Hogwarts, narrowed his blue eyes and glared at the blond while growling the words on everyone's minds:
"Shove off, Malfoy!"
Unfortunately, the DJ was in the middle of changing songs by then so when Ron screamed to be heard over the loud sound- he suddenly found himself shouting at Malfoy in what was a very agonizing silence. Ron had gotten up from his seat, hands balled into fists and the anger was pulsing against his temples and flushed on his skin. It was not fair how the Slytherin still could rile him up like that just by showing his annoying little ferret-face. If Malfoy's pointy face didn't make him so bloody angry, Ron might've been embarrassed over the few seconds of dead silence before the music pumped out through the speakers again.
The blond grinned wider now. "My word, Weasley, be careful so you don't get a heart attack. Anywho… What the hell are you doing here? I thought I told the doorman to not let in poor people, especially those with disgusting ginger hair and hand-me-downs."
Harry and Hermione actually had to hold back Ron now- who'd magically sobered up and was fuming.
"It's nice to see you too, Malfoy," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Still a shit I see."
"Potty, our 'Saviour' (Malfoy air quoted this) you're still blind as a bat I see." Draco raised an amused, well-defined pale eyebrow to Harry's round glasses. "Really though, what are you three doing here? It's a gay club you know."
"Yes, we're aware of that," Hermione said in a bitter voice.
"What are you doing here?" Ron spoke up again now, still held back by his friends and still very much angry. If only…
"It's my club, Weasley."
Ron's eyes widened with shock at that and he thought for the third time that day that yes, he was really going to kill his friends when they got home.
"Y-your club?" He blurted out dumbly as if he didn't quite believe him. A part of him didn't want to believe him.
"Yes, Weasley, my club. However, it appears that I need to see over my staff since they so very kindly let filth in here."
Malfoy smirked at Ron's anger and the way Potter and the Mudblood desperately tugged at his arms.
Weasley had always been so damn predictable.
"I'm sorry Ron, I swear, I didn't know!"
One and a half hour later, Hermione Granger tried patting Ron on the shoulder all while the redhead downed a few shots by the bar. Ron was in a foul mood and he was supposed to go home, he had been wanting to go home, but the bloody bar was just there when he tried to leave and somehow he never made past it. It wasn't his fault the drinks were ridiculously good and the (many) tiny shots made him lightheaded and dizzy. However, they did nothing to make his anger go away and he had spent a fair amount of time complaining over Malfoy. How much Ron hated him, how ugly and pointy he was, how he thought he was so bloody perfect and the gift to the wizarding world… Ron went through everything.
"I can't believe I'm at a gay club owned by Draco Malfoy," Ron said at last as Hermione patted him.
"It's okay Ron, I'm sorry," Hermione said.
"If he owns a club like this, he must be gay right? Riiight?"
"Yes, Ron he's probably gay."
"Fuck."
"Honestly, look at the bright side!" Hermione tried in her best cheery voice. "We can't let something like this get us down. If you could survive seven years with Malfoy in school, surely you can survive a night at his club. It's lots of people here, it was just a coincidence we ran into him!"
"Yeah, mate, we probably won't see him again," Harry interjected at Ron's other side.
"I want to go home," Ron muttered.
"No! We're not going home. Come on, let's go and look at cute boys and forget about Malfoy, okay? You like cute boys, don't you?" Hermione tugged on Ron's arm, dragging him away to prevent him from drinking anymore of those shots.
"Yeah…" Ron sighed happily, following along. It was a little hard walking now. He wobbled slightly, getting down from the bar stool. Thank goodness Hermione held onto him as they once again made their way through the crowd. His head turned, blue eyes taking in the people around him. "I do like cute boys," Ron informed Hermione, leaning in close. "I like everything about them. How they walk… And talk… And I enjoy looking at them from behind..."
"Right," Hermione said, exchanging looks with Harry. "That's- That's great, Ron."
A half hour later, they hadn't manage to get anywhere other than sitting down in yet another brightly coloured sofa, this time a yellow one. Hermione had tried distracting Ron with the males in the club, but none of them seemed to fit Ron's liking. He turned down everyone ("Ron, doesn't he have a good behind?" "Yeah, but have you seen his face?")
Hermione was getting a little tired and exasperated, maybe this was a bad idea after all?
She had had nothing but good intentions when she found this place and all she and Harry wanted was for Ron to have a pleasant time and hopefully leave the club with someone. It was his birthday, for Heaven's sake! Yet, Ron was now both drunk and kept raving on about Malfoy. Harry got them more drinks ("Ron seriously, you need to drink some water!").
"You know what Malfoy's problem is?" Ron said when it had been quiet for a while. It was the third time in two hours he had started a sentence like this. "It's that he thinks he's so bloody perfect. He always thinks so high of himself. Back at Hogwarts, he thought he was the king of the bloody castle, yet he wrote a song about me being one. Was it out of jealousy, it was, wasn't it?" He suddenly shot Hermione a furious look, as if she had the key to all answers to his every question in the entire world.
Harry and Hermione nodded. It's been so long since they've been drinking together and they had forgotten how tiresome Ron could get when he was drunk. And how much he could babble and how randomly it could get. "Yes Ron, he must have been really jealous of you. You're way better than Malfoy and all that, but for the love of everything sacred just let this go. Please."
"So bloody hot though…" Ron muttered.
"What did you say?" Hermione, who had been looking away at the dancefloor in an attempt of finding some sort of distraction for Ron or something, anything, suddenly whipped around in her seat, her rebellious long, brown hair flying so much it almost hit Ron in the face.
"I mean, if he wasn't such a prick…" Ron said in a sour tone.
"Do you think Malfoy is attractive?" Harry asked, surprised. He had definitely not expected that little confession to escape his best friend's mouth.
"Harry, everybody thinks Malfoy is attractive! Half of school probably shagged him too! You really are blind if you couldn't see that! That's the damn problem! HE'S TOO FUCKING ATTRACTIVE AND I ABSOLUTELY HATE HIM AND ALL I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO WHEN I SEE HIS FUCKING FACE IS TO HIT HIM WITH A-" Ron shouted a little too loudly and got louder by the second and everything around them was a little too quiet. The music had stopped again; the DJ was changing songs. And oh, how bloody convenient it was that said attractive blond happened to walk past right at that very moment. Shit. Ron had ignored Hermione's desperate tugging on his arm and in hindsight he probably shouldn't have done that.
"... Brick." This really was the worst birthday ever. Ronald Weasley blushed from head to toe. He'd never been so mortified in his whole life.
And that was really saying something.
"Interesting." Draco's steel eyes roamed over Ron and he wore such a smug expression it should have been illegal. "However entertaining it is to know that you'd like to shag me Weasley, I'm just not that into poor people."
The music started again and Draco walked away as if he'd never been there in the first place.
"I'm definitely going home."
It was near 11pm and Ron hated himself. Harry had to drag him out of the cubicle in the men's loo with force as Ron contemplated on drowning himself in the sink. He actually had to stop him from doing so and was now drying Ron's wet face with paper towels.
"It's okay, everything is not ruined, if you want to go home we can probably talk to Hermione, she'll Apparate us, I'm not sure you're in the right state to do it yourself-" Harry tried, talking rapidly.
"This is a nightmare!" Ron whined. "Do you know what my life is Harry? I'm destined to watch the fucking Notebook, that's what my life is! I'm not cut out for this, Harry! And I can't believe I said all those things back there! Why didn't you stop me?!"
"I think Hermione…" Harry began slowly but was taken aback when Ron shook him fiercely, suddenly furious.
"Don't. Ever. Fucking. Let. Me. Drink. Again." The redhead demanded. "And I still want that autograph you prat! You owe me!"
"I will, calm down!" Harry pushed up his glasses that had fallen down on his nose tip when Ron was shaking him like he'd gone completely mental. On second thought, maybe he had.
"Murder me, Harry," Ron muttered for the second time that night. "I'm going outside. I need air."
Ron pushed past Harry before he could stop him and completely ignored Hermione who waited for them outside. The club was still very much alive; it was even more people there now. Ron couldn't breathe, he needed silence and fresh air and possibly a train to run over him and—
Oh, bloody hell.
Draco bloody Malfoy stood by the wardrobes. And Ron couldn't hide now even if he tried, Malfoy had already spotted him.
"Are you following me around now, Weasley?" The young man drawled, lazily examining his nails. "Are you… Obsessed?"
"No, I'm not!" Ron snarled, a little too defiantly, like a small child and not at all as the new 20-year-old he was. Of course he wasn't. They hadn't seen each other for years! Three years. At least two and a half.
"What are you doing out here, anyway?" Ron asked, changing the subject and glaring at him for good measure.
Malfoy smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He walked up to Ron, tilting his chin up with a pale, bony finger. "I've always known you were a pouf, Weasley."
Ron swallowed hard. "Great," He said, trying to sound somewhat normal and like he wasn't nervous and affected at all to having Malfoy's hand now cupping his chin.
Yeah, this was definitely hell. It must be.
"I also happen to know it's your birthday today, Weaselbee…" Draco continued casually, grey eyes boring into Ron's blue. "And since I'm so generous and caring nowadays…" He leaned in close, breathing hot against Ron's reddening ear. "Would you like a little… present?"
Ron sucked in a breath, this was… What? He was confused and that damn tingling sensation caused by Draco's low, husky voice and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up… What was that all about? This had to be some joke, right?
The redhead was about to ask what the hell Draco was on about when he felt Draco's annoyingly soft and attractive lips on his own and suddenly he lost all form of reason. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was Ron's silliness or Malfoy just joked with him or maybe all of the above, but Ron's lips parted easily for Draco's mouth and he grabbed at the blond's shoulders as one of Draco's hands moved up his chest. The other hand dug into Ron's hair, his eyes slipped shut and the world was spinning around them.
"I did not see that coming." Harry nudged Hermione on the arm, nodding to the wardrobes by the exit. It didn't seem to him like Ron was getting air, he was more losing it the way Malfoy was devouring his mouth.
"Oh, don't be daft," Hermione shook her head, smiling. "Don't you remember all those fights they had in school? Definitely sexual tension. This is good for Ron, despite what we think of Malfoy. We should be happy for him."
"So reckon he's okay now?" Harry asked a little worried. "I mean, he was trying to drown himself tonight Hermione."
"Don't be silly, Ron's just overreacting as always. Let's just hope they'll Apparate home before they tear each other's clothes off." She looked over her shoulder. "Actually, Harry, I think it's time we go home too. I see that blue-haired woman again… Hurry…" She urged Harry to move forward.
Ron Weasley had been sure Hermione's suggestion of going to a gay club had been a terrible idea.
It was probably the worst idea in the history of ideas.
He had had a shitty night.
However, fucking Draco Malfoy six ways from Sunday was probably the best idea in the history of ideas.
"I… thought… You wanted to-to hit me with a brick," Malfoy panted, his hair had fallen out of his neat hairstyle and was glued to his face by sweat as he bucked his hips into Ron's rhythm. The back of his head pressed against the pillow in Ron's bed, hands clinging onto it as pale legs were wrapped tightly around Ron's body.
"And I t-thought you… d-didn't shag poor people," Ron retorted between groans, slamming hard into the body under him with every word, watching as the haughty, dainty, self-absorbed and absolutely gorgeous Draco Malfoy melted like ice cream in the sun under him. Ron loved ice cream on sunny days. He loved ice cream any day.
He felt Draco pull at his hair as he sucked at the blond's Adam's apple, leaving one of many marks on the sensitive skin. One of his hands supported his weight, the other was occupied with squeezing and stroking the flushing heated flesh between their bodies. Draco's eyes were glazed and Ron reckoned his might be too, he kissed Draco hard, speeding up. The former Slytherin was tight and glorious around his own length, sweat prickled his skin, he was so warm and so cold at the same time and his body almost felt numb with how close he was—
Malfoy suddenly arched backwards, shuddering and shouting profanities as white stickiness glued them together by their stomachs and Ron moaned, pounding into him once, twice more before tumbling after into his own release.
"A bloody good birthday gift, wasn't it?" Draco said, lying naked beside Ron and catching up with his breath. "Having me must be the best one. I'm a catch, I'll have you know."
The redhead glanced at Draco, his body covered in purplish and pink love bites, his lips swollen and dark from all the hour-long kissing, light hair mussed… And he realised, as his lips curved into a soft smile, visiting the gay club hadn't been so bad when it all came around.
Ron Weasley thought getting presents was the best part with having a birthday, after all.
THE END