Ron and Draco snuggle into each other's arms on the sofa in front of the roaring fire the following Tuesday night.
"It was you, wasn't it?" Ron says as Draco ruffles their short hair around.
"What was me?"
"You turned Padma into a rat."
Draco can't hide his smile as he remembers the successful operation by him and Blaise.
"Might have been."
"Draco," Ron sighs. "That wasn't nice."
"What? She deserved it."
"She was so embarrassed though. She was crying and everything."
"Good."
Ron folds their arms at Draco's defiant look.
"It took long enough for you to figure it out, bloody hell," says Draco. "It's been an entire week."
"Yeah, jokes on me for having any bit of faith in you for being a good human being," says Ron.
Draco sniggers at them. "I don't know where you got that idea from, when have I ever done anything good?"
"You're right there."
Draco pauses to glance at Ron through the side of his eye. "Ron?"
"What?"
"Are you pissed off at me?"
Ron turns to revel in Draco's apologetic eyes and their mild irritation ebbs away in an instant.
"Yes, I am," they say, shuffling closer on the sofa to him. "But I suppose your heart was in the right place."
Draco rests his head on Ron's shoulder, considering himself forgiven. "Do you want to play a game of something?" he mutters.
"Can we just sit for a bit?" says Ron, repositioning themselves to entangle them with Draco. "I've had a shit day."
"Yeah, of course," says Draco. "Why was it shit?"
"You know, lots of small things," Ron sighs. "It's fine."
"Tell me," he says, prodding their shoulder.
"Okay," Ron says with a thin smile. They launch into a monologue about another of Fred and George's pranks and how Harry and Hermione always seem to find new ways to leave him out. Draco listens and contributes every so often, slinging his arms around their neck and Ron closes their eyes and lets themselves be comforted.
Snape rushes past the Slytherin Common room and up to Draco's bedroom with a letter in his hand from one of Voldemort's assistants detailing a new plan. He bursts into the room after two sharp knocks, assuming Draco would still be awake, and alone, at 11 pm, then stops in his tracks.
Draco and Ron are splayed out together on the central sofa in each other's arms, Ron leaning their head onto his chest contentedly and letting Draco stroke their hair.
They all freeze for a moment, Snape in shock, and Draco and Ron sit up in horror that someone found them out. Snape pauses, the scene in front of him almost comical.
"Professor Snape-" starts Draco, pulling together his robes as he stands up.
"I can see I've interrupted," Snape says shortly. "Draco, I need to see you before breakfast tomorrow." He glances over the pair one last time before shutting the door.
"Shit," hisses Draco, picturing Snape informing his father, reporting it to Dumbledore, being branded as a traitor, disgracing his family name, never seeing Ron again. "I'll go after him."
Ron runs his fingers through his hair, on the verge of tears. "We're screwed, aren't we?"
"No, I'll sort this out."
"Should I come?" Ron asks, dread setting in.
Draco pulls on a jacket. "No, wait here, I'll be back soon."
"Okay."
He rushes down the stairs, guessing Snape will be heading back to his classroom. He catches up with him as he heads past the first-floor labs.
"Professor Snape," calls Draco. Snape turns around, his expression unreadable.
"Please," pleads Draco, the desperation pouring from his voice. "It's not what it looks like."
Snape crosses his arms. "What was it then?"
Draco makes a strangled noise. "We aren't- we're not a thing. It's just, we're just friends." He groans inwardly at having lost all composure within seconds. Snape looks extremely unconvinced, his face set in its usual stony glare. Draco decides to try a different approach.
"I promise we'll never meet again, I'll work harder in your lessons, I can stay after and do filing or whatever. I'll do anything. Please don't tell my father. You don't have to report us, we aren't in a relationship, we were just hanging out. Just tell me what you want me to do and it's done. I can give you money, I've got, like, a hundred pounds in my room and I can tell my parents to send me more and-"
"Draco." Snape stops him abruptly with a hand in the air. Draco shuts his mouth and waits apprehensively for Snape's response, anticipating a scathing remark or sarcastic disgust.
"I don't want your money, I don't want anything from you," he says calmly. "It's none of my business. I'm your professor, my job entails teaching, not patrolling students' relationships."
Draco blinks slowly, not absorbing his response. "If anyone finds out-"
"I don't see why anyone needs to know about this," Snape reiterates. "It's not my place to expose that information."
He forces himself to make eye contact with Draco, who's utterly baffled.
"Um okay," mutters Draco. It finally sinks in; Snape is on his side. "Thank you," he says, his voice breaking in relief.
Snape's expression softens slightly, and he nods. "It's three hours past curfew, however. You better get back upstairs before I remember."
Draco nods, semi-frantically. "Sorry." He turns and hurries back upstairs to his room.
Draco bursts in and Ron leaps up from the sofa expectantly.
"He's not gonna tell anyone," sighs Draco in utter relief, embracing Ron.
"What? Really?" says Ron.
"Yeah. Thank God for that."
"Jesus Christ," they mutter, their chest loosening marginally. "Are you sure? What did he say?"
Draco wraps his arms around their shoulders in reassurance. "I think so. He was giving me a weird look and he said, like, it's no one else's business to know."
"How do you know he won't change his mind?"
"I don't know," says Draco. "We can check tomorrow."
"Alright," they say, leaning into him. "God, he almost gave me a bloody heart attack, I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes."
"It's okay," Draco soothes. "I'd do anything to prevent this from getting out, don't you worry."
Ron hugs Draco's arms closer into their chest to slow their pounding heart. "Anything?"
"Yes. Anything."
The next morning Draco and Ron have Defense Against the Dark Arts with Snape after lunch. Ron especially has been worrying about the previous night all day and if Snape will change his mind. They go into Snape's class, Ron on edge and unable to focus throughout the lesson. Both their livelihoods rely on Snape's silence, and although Draco doesn't display his worry, he is equally on edge.
Snape notices Ron's skittishness and the way his cheeks colour when they make eye contact. Draco can barely look Snape in the eye either, completely unable to concentrate. After the lesson, Snape calls Ron and Draco to wait behind.
"Listen," Snape says once everyone else has left. "I can see you two aren't focused in my lesson. If it's not because of the ungodly hour you were up to and you need reassurance, then I'll give it to you. I'm not going to tell anyone, I haven't changed my mind and I'm not going to, ever. It's your business to sort out. Whatever the Ministry and your families and Hogwarts may try and make you believe, it's not a crime. But for goodness sake, lock your door next time, Draco. Anyone could walk in."
"You don't care?" asks Ron incredulously.
"No," says Snape. "Off you go. I'm expecting full focus in my next lesson."
They mutter yes and leave in relief.
The dinner overall had not been a disaster. In fact, Draco observed, his father and Daphne were getting on very well. They talked pleasantly amongst themselves throughout the meal about inconsequential matters.
"Thank you so much for the dinner Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy," Daphne smiles as the waiters come to take their plates away.
"It's been a pleasure," Narcissa smiles back.
"You'll have to come again," says Lucius. "I've really enjoyed this evening and I'm sure Draco has too."
Draco nods at his name being mentioned. "Yes," he says half-heartedly.
"Would you excuse me for a minute?" Daphne says, getting up.
"Of course, dear," Narcissa nods.
Draco gets up to slouch off to his room for a few minutes, but Lucius catches him before he leaves the large dining hall.
"Draco, come here a second," says Lucius, beckoning him over to a quiet corner. "What are your plans now?"
"I thought she was going now," says Draco.
"No, no," Lucius dismisses. "You need to entertain her for a bit. Why don't you take her up to your room?"
"Ok."
Lucius glances around, then discreetly presses something small into Draco's hand. He opens his hand to a condom wrapper.
"Dad?" says Draco indignantly.
Lucius gives him a knowing look, grasping his shoulder. "It's time to make the next move."
Draco holds out the wrapper. "What the hell is this for? I'm not having sex with her," he hisses.
Lucius doesn't take it. "You'll be fine," he says, ignoring the obvious disgust on his son's face.
Draco notices Daphne walking back into the dining hall and quickly stuffs the wrapper in his pocket. Lucius smiles forcedly, clapping him on the back. Draco redirects a deathly glare to the floor, walking over to Daphne.
"Would you like to follow me?" he says, smiling sarcastically.
"I'd love to," Daphne says, noting the almost tangible tension between him and his father.
Daphne follows him up to his bedroom as if she didn't just witness the situation from the corridor. For all Draco's confidence and suavé, he seems either incapable or unwilling of making any further advances. She saw the look he gave his father.
"Do you want to watch a film?" asks Draco as they enter the room. He signals to the stacks of DVD players and large TV.
"Sure."
Draco takes off his jacket, with the wrapper in its pocket, and throws it in the wardrobe. His father has killed his mood. He always wants the next thing; nothing is ever enough. He won't be happy until he's married to Daphne with three children, it seems.
They sit together on the bed facing the TV screen, chatting about school and the workload, the opening scene from a dated slasher film playing. Draco puts a reluctant arm around her shoulder, and she leans in.
"My parents were so eager for me to come on this date," she comments, apparently offhandedly, but in an attempt to engage in some proper conversation.
Draco gives a half-laugh. "Tell me about it. My father wouldn't get off my back about it."
"All I've been hearing all week is how to impress the Malfoys, and what the right dinner etiquette, how to act like a respectable young lady and all that shit."
"My father was acting like he'd won the lottery when he found out your parents would be at the next meeting," Draco says. "I don't think I've seen him this excited for something for years."
"Yeah, my parents are the same," sighs Daphne. "They keep spouting all this fake crap about being childhood friends with your mum and how happy they are for it to be back 'like the old days'. They don't share any of your values about hating muggle-borns and all that childhood stuff is bullshit because they didn't even go to Hogwarts. It's all for connections and power, it does my head in."
"Yeah, I can never tell if my parents are actually interested or if they're just doing it for the politics and hate the people they're talking to," says Draco. "I don't even know who their real friends are at this point, or if they have any genuine friendships left. I doubt it."
"So, what was the deal with your dad?" asks Daphne. "You two weren't as subtle as you thought, you know."
Draco groans, realising she's referring to the condom. "He thinks it's time for me to 'make the next move', for what reason exactly escapes me."
"And you don't want to?" she teases.
"Don't," he says. "He's such a creep. I don't see how us having sex is going to improve relations between our families if we're already in a relationship."
"He sounds worse than my parents, and they're pretty bad."
Draco rolls his eyes. "It's the Dark Lord. He'll do anything to get back on veir good side, and I mean anything."
Daphne smiles sympathetically. "You don't have to pretend when we're in private."
"Pretend what?" Draco says.
"That you like me."
"I do like you."
"In that way," she smiles.
Draco freezes for a moment.
"You prefer a northern girl, don't you?" she says. "Like Millicent. You've been with her before. Tracy too, they're both northern, dark hair, bit taller than me."
"That was a while ago," Draco says, not exactly fond of the memories from either relationship.
"Yeah, but you know what I'm saying. You have a type. As a blonde London girl, I'm not what floats your boat."
"I guess not," Draco says, wondering if he appeared to have a type.
Daphne stares pointedly at his arm, still slung around her shoulder.
"Sorry," says Draco, awkwardly removing his arm.
"It's fine."
They watch the film for another ten minutes, then Daphne gets up.
"I'm going to go now."
"All right," says Draco. "You aren't a big fan of all the murder, then?"
She glances at the TV. "Not really my thing."
"What should I tell my father about what went on?" Draco asks.
"I'm going to be honest with you here, Draco," says Daphne. "Don't be offended, you're not ugly or anything, but the only reason I came on this date was to get my parents off my back."
Draco's face lights up, not exactly the response she was expecting. "That's a relief," he says. "I would've felt bad leading you along like this."
"No, you were definitely leading me on with the whole Yule Ball thing," Daphne says, disguising her bitterness through a smile. What a fanciful desire it was to ever think someone could have feelings for her. "But I don't care," she says. "At least I know now, and I think the plan going forward here is obvious."
Draco raises his eyebrows in question.
"We continue seeing each other," she says, taking him by surprise. "Well, pretending to."
"Oh, I thought you were about to say we should break up," he says.
"Not unless you want to," she shrugs. "But it makes sense to keep doing this. We're helping our families and all that." She breaks out into a grin. "And it will be fucking funny to string everyone else along."
"That's true," Draco says, picturing Blaise suspiciously grilling him about him and Daphne.
"And who knows, maybe we'll fall deeply in love," she says with an insincere smile.
"Maybe."
"Now come and walk me out as a gentleman should with a delicate lady like me." She pulls an overly pained expression, making Draco snort.
"Of course," he says sarcastically, taking her arm.
They walk together to the front door, and Daphne thanks Draco's parents on the way out for their hospitality.
At the doorway, Draco leans into her ear. "I apologise for all of this," he mutters. "Dragging you out here, meeting my parents, etcetera."
Daphne just smiles. "It was fun," she lies. Her betrayed hurt is better left unsaid. For the benefit of Draco's parents and all of the staff watching, he says a loud, "goodnight," and gives her a short kiss.
"See you at school," she says. "Thanks for the evening, darling." She gives an unnecessarily obvious wink, and the corners of Draco's mouth turn up ever so slightly.
He returns to his room, a massive weight off his shoulders. If he must continue this facade, he at least has someone else, which makes the whole thing more bearable.
It's been six days since Snape found Draco and Ron together in Draco's room, and he hasn't been able to get it out of his mind. Not in a creepy, obsessive way, but in a way that has been dragging up unwanted memories of his schooldays and another secret couple, who happened to terrorise him for years and years on the side. He deserved some of the incessant bullying, other parts not so much.
It doesn't bother him nearly as much as it should that he's held onto the bitter outcast developed in his teenage years. He can't separate that persona from his true identity, so much so that he has started to wonder if he even has a 'true identity' under the hard exterior he grew to cope.
Because it would be nice to say that he cared about his students, or that he regretted making constant demeaning comments to them, or that he had any redeemable qualities at all, but it would be a lie.
Not once did he address the relationship unwind before his eyes in his years as a student at Hogwarts, and neither has he addressed it during his years working at Hogwarts. He dredges up what little decency he has left and decides to go and talk to someone who undoubtedly considers him no more than dirt beneath his shoe, but who Snape considers his oldest and only true friend.
Snape knocks on the door to Remus' classroom.
"Good afternoon," he says, walking in after a moment. Remus is slumped at his desk under a mountain of paperwork, staring absently into the distance.
"Hello," he says after a moment, sitting up. They regard each other for a long moment. Although having worked alongside each other for nearly five years now, they can't have exchanged more than ten words during that period.
"What do you want?" Remus says, and despite it coming out harsher than he intended, Snape didn't expect anything less.
"How are you?" says Snape glancing around the room. Papers are crumpled up around the room, chairs scattered randomly not corresponding to any particular desk and the sun barely reaches through the tiny gap between the blinds.
Sirius Black died six months ago, and Remus hasn't been taking it well, to put it lightly.
Remus crosses his arms at the intrusion. "Don't pretend you care for me at all," he snaps. "I'm busy, so if you haven't got anything to say then leave. Please," he adds, then kicks himself for adding it. Snape has never bothered to be cordial with him, so why should he return the favour?
Snape smooths down his robes. "It's about Sirius."
Remus' expression darkens immediately. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but pain just emulates out.
"I am sorry for your loss," Snape says, almost robotically. He can't remember the last time he comforted someone.
Remus stares down, head in his hands for a long second. When he looks up, there are furious tears in his eyes.
"How dare you come into my classroom and act like you aren't working for the people who killed him?" he says in a dangerously low voice. "Do you seriously have the audacity to stand in front of me," his voice raises to shouting. "And talk about Sirius to my fucking face when you helped orchestrate his death?"
The colour drains from Snape's face. "No, Remus, it wasn't like that. I had no idea what they were planning. I wasn't involved at all."
"Bullshit," he mutters, although he knows deep down that he's telling the truth.
"I just came to tell you that I know how much Sirius meant to you. I have done from the start."
"And you've come to mock me about it, I expect?" Remus says bitterly. "You've come here to crow over us like you have any bloody idea what we've been through?"
"No," Snape says, keeping firm composure as Remus crumbles in front of him. "I knew you were in love with each other."
"You have no right to comment on our relationship," Remus retorts, his voice wavering as he barely holds back tears. "And you certainly have no idea what love is." This hurts Snape, a small twinge in his chest, and he has to work hard not to let it show.
"Oh God, Severus," Remus rasps, resting a hand in his head. He starts uncontrollably sobbing, his body shaking from the effort. "I did love him," he gulps, choking on tears, the first time he's said those words aloud for a long, long time.
"I really loved him."
"I know," says Snape quietly.
"I just want him back," he gasps. "I want my Sirius back."
He cries for minutes and Snape stands there and watches him.
Remus wipes the tears from his blotched face. "He shouldn't be dead. It's a bloody mess, all of it."
Snape nods sympathetically.
Remus does a double-take. "How the hell did you know about us?"
"It was obvious to me."
Memories of their younger days torture Remus and he feels a deep cavern of sadness open in his heart that could kill him on the spot. He no longer cares about reputation or appearances, he's just so desperately thankful to have someone, anyone, who understands a fraction of the pain he's going through.
"I miss him. I miss him so much," he says. "At least in Askaban, I knew he was alive. I knew I'd get to see him again, however much I thought I hated him. But now I have nothing. There's no hope."
Snape doesn't know what to say. "You have the memories."
"What good is a memory?" he scoffs through tears. "I can't talk to a memory. I can't hold a memory, can I? I want him with me. I want him here. And he's never going to be with me again. There's nothing left for me. I've lost my world."
Snape stays quiet, the raw desperation in Remus' voice evident.
"Look, I don't even know why I'm talking to you," he says. "Why are you even here? We aren't friends."
"We used to be," Snape says quietly.
"What, in first year? That hardly counts." Remus sniffs, playing off the friendship like it was nothing which perhaps hurts Snape the most out of anything.
"You were my only friend at Hogwarts," Snape reminds him. "And I haven't forgotten how you never joined in with the others. So yes, it counts."
Remus sighs heavily, wiping his eyes with his robe.
"You need time off to grieve," Snape says after another minute of silence.
Remus waves a hand. "I can't. Sirius wasn't family or anything and Albus needs more reasonable grounds for time off than 'we used to be best mates'."
"But he was important to you."
Tears well up in Remus' eyes again forcing him to face away from Snape. To have that said out loud, to have someone acknowledge, to have anyone realise how focal Sirius was in his life.
"Thank you," Remus gets out, still facing the wall, to the surprise of Snape. "You know you're the first person to say that to me?"
Snape can't see his face, but he can hear the anguish in his voice.
"No one else has said sorry for your loss," Remus says, his voice catching. "Not one fucking person has asked if I'm okay, no one knew how much he meant to me-" He cuts off with an involuntary sob, which quickly escalates into Remus doubled over in his chair, his shoulders shaking as he cries. He cries silently, not even able to get out a sob to express his hurt, trapped in a soundless whine, missing Sirius with all his heart and soul.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, and Snape stands beside him until he regains control of his breathing.
"We haven't talked for ages, have we?" Remus snivels, his eyes puffy and red. Snape pulls up a chair to sit beside him.
"No, we haven't," he says.
"I blame you," Remus smiles to get rid of the last of his tears.
"Me?" Snape says, careful to keep things light-hearted with Remus still evidently fragile. "You were the one who abandoned me to go gallivanting off with James."
"You shouldn't have stirred things up by stealing Lily off James. She was run ragged with you two fighting over her. Oh, sorry," he adds after seeing Snape's face fall dramatically at the mention of her name. "It's still a sensitive subject, then?"
"Yes," Snape says tightly.
"Which brings me onto my next point," Remus says, holding up a finger.
"Have you been drinking?" Snape asks, suddenly picking up on his slightly slurred words.
"Maybe," says Remus. "But stop trying to distract me. It's your fault we aren't friends because you continued to work for the guy who killed everyone close to me."
Snape bristles slightly. "I can't exactly just denounce my life as a dedicated servant of the Dark Lord, it's not that simple. And do you really think Albus is any better?"
Remus crosses his arms. "Considering he hasn't either personally or indirectly murdered most of my childhood friends and the one person I truly loved, yes."
"It's unfortunate," Snape mutters.
"It's not unfortunate, Severus, it's murder. Albus doesn't kill and torture people for the heck of it."
"He's raised two generations of kids for them to die at his hands while making school children believe they were obliged to fight for their side," says Snape vehemently. "You just don't realise he's as bad because he's not killing everyone that could be of use to him. He's smarter than Voldemort because he knows how to make himself look good while doing essentially the same thing. Everyone died because of him: Lily, Frank, Alice, James, all of them. Even Sirius."
"Don't lecture me on how Sirius died," Remus spits bitterly. "I watched him die to the hands of Bellatrix right in front of my eyes. I watched him die and I can assure you Albus wasn't involved."
"Albus raised him to be involved through a long and discreet process," Snape persists. "If you don't see that then you've fallen victim to his trap."
"There is no trap," Remus laughs emptily. "You can't convince me the headteacher who's looked after generations of students is in any way worse than someone who killed a baby's parents in front of him then attempted to murder said baby."
"You're not seeing my point."
"And you aren't seeing mine."
Snape grits his teeth. He didn't expect to win Remus' trust back instantly, of course, but it's still frustrating.
"Why did you even come here today?" Remus asks. "Or did you just come to impart your preposterous theories about Albus onto me?"
"No, I didn't," says Snape, regretting ever mentioning Dumbledore. It seems to have hit a nerve. "I should've had this conversation with you months ago but I was aware that I was probably the last person you'd want to talk to."
"That's true," mutters Remus.
"I won't pretend as if I came here due to a sudden burst of altruism," he adds. "Something has been causing me to think back to our time here as teenagers, and I suppose I felt as though I ought to come and talk to you."
"Don't worry, I didn't think you'd visited me out of the kindness of your heart," Remus says, smiling sarcastically. "Not the Severus I know."
Snape takes the jibes, expecting, and perhaps deserving, nothing less.
"I expect you won't want my pity," says Snape. "However, it can't have been easy to see Potter get all the sympathy after Sirius' death while you were overlooked."
"You're right. It was all about Harry," Remus says emptily. "And I know that sounds so bloody selfish of me because the poor boy has lost his godfather who was as good as his father towards the end. But everyone seems to have forgotten that I was right there too. I watched the person I loved all my life die in front of me. This is going to sound awful, but Sirius meant so much more to me than he did to Harry." He sighs guiltily. "I shouldn't say that really."
"It's a perfectly reasonable statement," says Snape. "Potter only knew him a few years, you knew him since you were a child."
"I suppose."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?" asks Remus after a deep breath.
"About?"
"Me and Sirius," he says. "I mean, he was bullying you, for years it must've been. You had that hanging over us the whole time, you could've humiliated us or blackmailed us or something. Why didn't you do it?"
"Oh, believe me, I thought about it," says Snape darkly. "But in the end, I didn't bother. I didn't care for Sirius, but we were best friends at the start. You were the only friend I made in Hogwarts." Or ever, Snape silently thinks.
Remus sighs. "We were awful to you. James and Sirius really didn't know when to stop."
Snape shrugs off this half-apology. "It doesn't matter now. We need to focus on the present. You need time off."
Remus shakes his head. "It's not going to happen. Albus isn't going to give me time off, paid or otherwise, not now. We're on the brink of a full-scale war, in case you'd forgotten. I appreciate the effort, Severus, but I'm staying right here at Hogwarts."
"Ok," Snape says, somewhat defeated.
"You should probably go now. Lunch ends in two minutes and I need to not look like I've been sobbing my eyes out for half an hour," says Remus with a forced smile.
Snape takes the instruction and gets up. "All right," he says.
"Listen, about this," Snape says hesitantly, stopping at the door. "Come and talk to me about this any time. I've not exactly got a busy social schedule and it sounds like I'm the only person you have to talk about this to." He sighs at himself at the poor choice of wording. "That came out wrong, I just meant to say-"
"I get what you're trying to say," Remus says, giving him a short smile.
"Good," Snape nods. "I suppose I'll speak to you later then?"
"Perhaps."
Remus stares after Snape as he leaves. He wishes he wasn't so dreadfully lonely as to accept help from the first, and the only, person who offered it.
Draco pictures himself lying down after an exhausting day of celebrating his 17th birthday with friends and family, filled with exhilaration and fatigue. Instead, he sits alone in front of the fire waiting for Ron, handling the new tie he got sent from his parents, replaying the dreary happy birthdays from Crabbe and Goyle in his head.
His parents sent him money too, and lots of it, but it didn't help the feeling that his birthday wasn't really a birthday, just another day gone by. He sits and he waits.
Eventually, there's a knock on the door. He opens it.
"Happy birthday!" grins Ron, rocketing into him for a massive hug. A smile lights up Draco's face as all of his qualms vanish. "Hey."
"Hello," says Ron. They attempt to lean casually on the door frame like Draco often does, but his feet tangle themselves and he almost falls much to Draco's amusement.
"Um," Ron says, clearing their throat and standing back up straight. "How's today been?"
"The usual," says Draco, biting back a smile.
"Got anything nice?"
"Nah, me and my mates don't do presents," he says.
Ron enthusiastically bounces up and down on their heels. "Well, as I'm not one of your mates, I have a present for you."
"Oh, really?" Draco says, pleasantly surprised.
"Yeah," he says, turning a slight shade of red.
Draco closes the door behind them and watches Ron stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. "Do you want to sit down?"
"Sure, yeah, good idea," says Ron, stumbling over to the sofa.
Once seated, Ron produces a dainty emerald-coloured box from his pocket, wrapped carefully in a silk ribbon. "Ta-da."
Draco's eyes light up. "Oh my God, what's this?"
"Open it and see."
He pulls the ribbon off, making sure to keep everything intact. The box opens, unveiling a delicate necklace with red and green beads lined on.
"They're our house colours," Ron says quietly, watching to see if he likes it. "I'm kind of broke right now so it's homemade."
"Awh, Ron," sighs Draco, standing to hug him. "I love it. Thank you so much."
Ron breaks out into a broad smile, holding him tightly.
"Should I tie it for you?" Ron asks.
"Wait," says Draco, undoing his tie. "This thing has been strangling me all day."
"Is that new?"
"Yeah, it was a present from my parents," says Draco, tossing it onto the floor with his jacket. "Okay, you can tie it now."
"Stand up, it'll be easier."
Draco obliges, tingles running through his body as he feels Ron's cold fingers brush against his warm neck as they fasten the necklace.
"Done," Ron mutters.
Draco spins around, bringing the two together at eye level. Ron, slightly startled by the sudden closeness of their bodies, pulls down their collar to reveal a necklace similar to Draco's gift to offer up a distraction.
"Look," they say, watching his eyes dart down from their lips to the necklace. "We're matching."
Draco smiles, bringing up his hands onto the sides of Ron's neck. "That's the fucking cutest thing ever."
Ron makes a noise of agreement, and before they can say much more, Draco wraps his arms around their shoulders and kisses them.
Ron relaxes into it, allowing Draco to run his hands under their jumper and up their back. They grab his shoulders once his tongue slides between their teeth and lets Draco push them up against one of the bed posters.
At some point, Ron pulls away. Draco stops inches from his lips, hands resting on their backside. He misreads Ron's gesture, drops his hands, and slides back to a friendly distance.
"Draco," says Ron, looking away to psych himself up.
"Yeah?" he says guiltily, convinced he overstepped a line.
"Since it's your birthday right..."
Draco begins to rethink his previous theory. "Yes?" he says slowly.
Ron edges closer to him. "I don't know how to say this."
"Just spit it out," says Draco. "I'm sure I'll get the gist."
"Okay, well. We can do what you want tonight if you see what I mean."
He raises his eyebrows suggestively. "You mean-"
"Basically," Ron says, blushing deeper by the second. "That thing we talked about. If you want to, then I'd like to do it."
Draco lets out a noise between a cough and a laugh. "Fucking hell, I was not expecting that."
"Yeah well," they say. "Surprise!"
They laugh quietly to each other.
"So you're being serious?" Draco asks.
"Yep, very serious."
"Are you sure? I mean, we've never done anything like this before."
"Yes," Ron insists. "I'm sure, Draco."
"Well then," Draco says, his mouth somewhere between a grin and a smirk. "Come forth to the bed."
"'Come forth'," Ron snorts. "You're not exactly enticing me right now."
Draco pulls him by the hand over to the double bed. "All right Mr high fucking standards." He widens his eyes. "Sorry, I shouldn't say Mr. I didn't mean it."
Ron's smile falters, but they shrug it off. "Don't worry about it," they say. "Now say something a bit sexier than 'come forth'."
"Hmm," says Draco. "I could do, or I could just take my clothes off."
Ron watches, unsuccessfully pretending to be unimpressed as Draco takes his shirt off.
"That's shut you up," Draco snickers as Ron stares at him, his mouth dry.
"Aren't we supposed to kiss or something beforehand?" asks Ron as Draco undoes his belt. "Or like, ease our way into it?"
Draco gives a short wheeze much to Ron's annoyance. "You've never done this before, have you?"
"No, Draco," Ron says indignantly. "At what point in my existence would I have sucked a dick before?"
"I don't know," he laughs. "Maybe Potter needs comforting every now and then."
"Shut up," Ron snorts, elbowing him in the ribs. "Are you going to kiss me or not?"
"Fine, okay," says Draco with a smile, pushing his naked torso on top of Ron, straddling their waist and kissing them.
Draco puts his hands through Ron's hair, playing with it slightly, then leading them gently down towards the right place.
"I have no fucking idea what I'm doing by the way," says Ron, his stomach turning over.
Draco smirks, already exhaling heavily in excited anticipation. "Roll your tongue around a bit and don't bite. You'll figure something out."
He leans back and closes his eyes.
Later, they lie together in the bed, cuddling. Ron lays their head on Draco's chest, who twirls their ginger hair around his fingers.
"Was it alright?" murmurs Ron sleepily.
"It was ok for your first time."
Ron nudges their head into his chest indignantly. "It was ok?"
Draco chuckles. "No, I'm just winding you up," he says. "You were great. I loved it. Clearly."
Ron accepts this answer, tracing across Draco's ribs contentedly.
"And did you enjoy it?"
"It was weird," Ron says. "But yeah."
"Is that your first time, like, doing anything like this?" Draco asks, circling his hand over Ron's jumper.
"Yeah," Ron admits. "You're my first everything, first kiss, first... this."
"Fuck off, I was not your first kiss," Draco says, sitting up and staring at them with wide eyes.
"Um, yeah," Ron laughs nervously.
"Shit," exclaims Draco, lying back down and staring at the ceiling.
"It's not a bad thing," says Ron, not completely sure as to why Draco seems upset. "I didn't admit it at the time, but it was a good kiss. You just took me by surprise a bit. I wasn't expecting it, that's all. I thought you were about to beat me up or something."
"I'm such a fucking twat," Draco sighs to himself. "I shouldn't have kissed you like that. At all."
"It's honestly fine," Ron says. "I mean, I kissed you back, so..."
"Yeah, after I'd already got you bloody cornered and kissed you first."
Ron shrugs. "It doesn't matter."
Draco smiles guiltily and Ron pats his thigh. "Draco, don't worry," they say. "If you had never kissed me then we never would've been here, would we? And I don't know about you, but I've had a bloody lovely evening."
"Yeah, me too," says Draco. Ron smiles, closing their eyes and resting his head on Draco's chest.
They lie together well into the night, both falling asleep without intending to. At the sensation of Draco turning in his sleep, Ron is brought back into consciousness.
"Shit," they mumble, getting a small fright from a half-naked boy lying next to him. Then they remember.
Draco is woken up by the irregular movement. "Hi," he says sleepily, turning over to face Ron.
"I have to go," says Ron, glancing at the clock. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. I need to be back in the dorm, I've got Quidditch practice first thing tomorrow."
"That's my bad, I completely dropped off," Draco says, pulling himself up. "Are you still coming tomorrow?"
"Yes," says Ron, remembering their pre-planned celebration on the last Friday before the Christmas holidays.
"Remember to bring your present."
"Will do," Ron says.
Draco pulls him in for one last kiss, softly pushing their lips together for no more than a second. "See you later," he says, brushing Ron's hair out of their flushed face.
"Night Draco."
"Goodnight Ron."