"Ron."
"Draco!"
Ron bounds into Draco's room, ambushing him with a hug.
"Hey," Draco grins. "Merry early Christmas."
"Hello," says Ron, twirling around then setting himself down on the sofa. "Merry early Christmas to you too."
"Do you want to come and sit on the bed?" asks Draco. "There's more space."
"Sure thing." Ron jumps onto the bed. "I'm so excited to give you your present," they say. "I've been saving for ages to get you this."
"Yeah, I don't want to ruin the thing you've got going there but I did pay for your presents with my dad's money."
"I almost forgot you were a spoilt shit."
"Might as well be putting his vast sum of wealth to good use," Draco says, retrieving a small collection of wrapped presents from behind the sofa.
"All right, no need to boast."
"I've got something for us to do before we open presents," Draco says. "It's a little Christmas tradition and I usually do it by myself but since you're here I thought we could do it together?"
"Ooh, yeah, that could be fun. What's the tradition?"
"I'll show you."
Ron curiously watches him as he brings a square container over to the bed along with two kitchen knives.
"Is this a blood sacrifice or something?" they ask.
"I wasn't going to cut open my arms as a Christmas tradition," Draco says. "But if you want to then go ahead."
Ron laughs to himself at the irony. "Nah, you're alright."
"This is my Christmas cake," Draco says proudly, opening the container to reveal a square-shaped cake resembling a Christmas pudding.
"Oh, wow," says Ron. "Did you make that?"
"Yep. I use the same recipe every year. I've been doing it since I was about twelve because mother doesn't make a Christmas dinner- she gets the chefs to do it and they never make a pudding. They do this weird cheesecake thing."
"Gosh, well I am so sorry your personal chefs don't make you a Christmas pudding," Ron pouts.
"Shut it, Weasely. I'm saying that this pudding holds emotional value to me."
"Right got it," says Ron. "Emotional valuable pudding."
They narrow their eyes at it. "Have you drugged it or something?"
Draco pulls a face. "Why would I have drugged it?"
"To put a love potion in so I'll want to fuck you and we have Christmas sex."
Draco widens his eyes, halfway to a laugh. "Ron," he gasps. "What the fuck?"
"There are some crazy people in this world," Ron says, snatching one of the knives of him.
"I don't need a love potion to get you to want to fuck me," Draco smirks, recovering from their statement.
Ron folds his arms. "That isn't very Christmassy."
"If I remember correctly, you were the one suggesting I drugged the emotionally valuable Christmas cake to get non-consensual sex out of you. That's not very Christmassy either."
"Yeah, but I was joking."
Draco doesn't deny the implication. "Fair enough."
"Hey," Ron says in protest. "I'm not fucking you four days before Christmas. It would upset Jesus."
"If you say so," says Draco. "Now can we cut the cake or are you going to talk yourself into getting shagged?"
Ron makes an explosive noise, two red spots appearing on his cheeks. "You're such a dickhead. I wouldn't have sex with you if we were the last two people on earth."
"Um, Ron, you literally get weak at the knees when I look at you."
"Don't flatter yourself," Ron grumbles, glaring to one side.
"All I'm saying is that you'd be throwing yourself at me by day three."
"Day three?" Ron scoffs. "In your bloody dreams mate."
"You'd be practically begging my name. 'Draco, Draco, I'm lonely, please come fuck me, I'd do anything to have you ten inches inside of me'."
Ron glares at him with a look that could kill. "Can we cut the damn cake before you manage to inflate your fucking massive ego any further by playing out your weird sexual fantasies?"
"Yeah, yeah, okay," Draco laughs.
"You haven't actually told me what the tradition is yet," Ron points out, eyeing the unusually right-angled cake.
"The tradition is that I make a Christmas cake then cut it on Christmas day and eat it all myself."
"You eat this whole thing yourself?"
"Yeah, I go on a long run after lunch to work up an appetite and to get away from my parents for a bit. By the evening I can manage it all."
"You're a fat fucker," Ron mutters, staring at the cake which would surely serve at least ten.
"I know."
Draco holds the knife up to the cake, positioning himself on the bed at a better angle.
"We should slice it in one go. You do one edge and I do the other," he says.
"Wouldn't it be more romantic if we held the same knife and cut at the same time?"
"This isn't supposed to be romantic, it's supposed to be a nice innocent Christmas activity."
"Draco, five minutes ago you were talking about ramming yourself ten inches inside of me. There's nothing innocent about this evening left."
Draco sniggers but shakes his head. "We're not cutting it with the same handle, that's too gay. Just cut it in sync, it'll be good, I promise."
"What do you mean 'that's too gay'?"
"Holding hands is gay and my tradition isn't gay."
"Oh, my bad," Ron says sarcastically. "You invite a boy to sit on your bed and cut a cake together and exchange presents and talk about shagging, all completely platonic."
"That's right," says Draco. "Now should I do a countdown or what?"
"Do it from five, then on 'go' we cut," says Ron.
"On go?"
"Yeah, say five four three two one go, we cut on 'go', not on one."
"I wasn't going to say 'go'."
"What were you going to say?"
"Zero."
"Ok, fine, bloody hell," Ron sighs. "We cut on 'zero', okay?"
"Okay."
Draco begins counting. "Five, four, three, two, one, zero!"
On zero, with grins lighting up their faces, the two somewhat simultaneously plunge their knives into the cake, creating a lopsided piece.
"Whose piece is that?" Ron asks, using their knife to scrape the slice of cake back onto a plate.
"It's ours," says Draco.
Ron looks up at him. "We're going to eat this at the same time?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"What?" he grins as Ron stares at him, unimpressed. "I've got to find some excuse to kiss you, haven't I?"
"No?" says Ron, giving him a look. "You could just ask 'do you want to kiss' like a normal person. Or just bloody kiss me and see if I do it back or not, you don't usually have an issue with that."
"Yeah, but I didn't know if you wanted to kiss on the bed."
Ron snorts at Draco going all shy. "I literally made you cum three days ago on this exact bed."
"Ok, all right," Draco says indignantly, two small pink spots appearing on his cheeks. "I didn't want to be too forward, that's all."
Ron laughs in disbelief. "Draco, did you even register the words that came out of your mouth earlier in the conversation? If that's not forward, then I don't know what is."
"Fucking hell, okay, we can have a Christmas kiss on the bed," Draco relents. "But we're eating this cake first."
"All of it?"
"That's the rules."
"I'm kind of full," Ron says guiltily. "There was food in the Common room and I ate a lot. I wouldn't want to ruin your fun tradition but yeah."
"I'm not going to force-feed you it," Draco smiles, patting their thigh. "It's fine."
"Oh, okay."
"However, I will be eating whatever you don't eat, so if I did mix a love potion in then prepare to be gushed over in about five minutes from now."
"I'll sit here and watch you stuff your face then," Ron says dryly, watching Draco take a large bite out of the slice they cut out. He gives them a nod and a thumbs up. Ron takes the chance to rest his head on the pillow and close his eyes for a second, trusting Draco not to let the second morph into an hour-long nap.
They open their eyes to Draco clamouring over him not at all gracefully.
"That was fast," Ron says, observing the empty plate.
"It's been twenty minutes," says Draco, nodding to the clock which reads 23:46. "And I was hungry."
"Oh, shit, really?"
"Don't worry, you wouldn't have wanted to see me nomming down my cake. I was like a bloody pig."
"Gross," Ron mutters, shuffling closer to them. He doesn't think Draco could look like a pig if he tried.
"Ready for that Christmas kiss I mentioned earlier?" he smiles expectantly.
"What about presents?" Ron says. He watches Draco's face fall. "Don't give me those eyes."
"Yeah, we can do presents, I suppose," Draco says, exaggerating the mournfulness in his tone.
"Bloody hell, we can't have you looking like that all night," says Ron. "Come here."
They pull Draco into a spontaneous kiss, their bodies awkwardly draped across each other on the bed.
Draco doesn't hesitate in pushing his tongue into Ron's mouth and straddling their waist while holding up the back of his head. Ron follows Draco's lead, getting butterflies as he lies under him, feeling Draco's hands slide up his torso as they continue to make out.
It's only been twenty-four hours since they last met, but their bodies piling on top of each other feels like a breath of long-overdue fresh air. A loaded, steamy, tense breath of fresh air.
Draco can't help the drawn breaths out as he feels Ron's hands slide over his waist and down to his thighs.
"Did you just fucking moan?" Ron wheezes into Draco's mouth, mid-kiss after an audible sound from Draco as Ron moves their hands dangerously close to his groin.
"Shut up," Draco says breathlessly. He presses their lips back onto his before they get another chance to comment on it.
"We should do presents now," Draco says about ten minutes later, reluctantly removing his lips from theirs. They're both somewhat out of breath, Ron blushing all over his face and neck and with his body pinned underneath Draco's.
Draco notices their complexion and smiles. No matter how often they do this, Ron always gets just as flustered every time. He finds it adorable.
"Okay," Ron whispers, gulping with blind nerves as Draco runs his fingers down the back of their neck.
"Should I go first?" Draco says once successfully on the other end of the bed again.
"Yeah, sure," says Ron skittishly. He gives an embarrassed laugh as Draco makes eye contact and raises his eyebrows.
"Sorry, I'm just, you- yeah."
Draco doesn't use the opportunity to take the mick, he simply smiles at their reaction to being kissed. "You're so fucking cute, Jesus Christ," he mutters, making Ron turn a shade of red he didn't know was humanely possible.
Draco puts down two presents on the bed in front of Ron and sits cross-legged.
"I thought we said one present," Ron says. "I only got you one."
"Yeah, I know, one's only small," says Draco.
"Okay," Ron says, pushing their guilt away. "Which one should I open first?"
"This one." Draco hands them the biggest present, about the size of a football, but floppy and rectangular.
Ron holds it up to his ear and shakes it thoroughly. "I wonder what it could be."
"That's not going to tell you anything," Draco says.
"Just checking."
They tear off the gold wrapping paper to reveal a fabric. "Ooh, what's this?" they say, pulling out a pair of bronze trousers.
"I didn't know what size you were so let me know if those are alright," Draco says, secretly holding his breath as he waits for Ron's reaction.
Ron's face lights up. "Oh wow, these feel so nice," he says admiring them by running a hand over the soft fabric. "They look comfy as well. I'll put them on next time I see you," he smiles. "Thanks, Draco."
Draco nods, his features relaxing. "Open this," he says, pushing the smaller present towards them.
Ron shakes the square-shaped gift next to his ear and hears a small rattling. "I can hear something," they say, tearing off the paper.
Underneath is a square pink box with no writing or indicator as to what will be inside.
"This is mysterious," Ron says, sliding the outer cover off. "Oh," he exclaims, seeing a row of dusted chocolates in various shapes. "Are these chocolates?"
"Yep," grins Draco, watching Ron take a heart-shaped one out and put it in his mouth in one go.
"See, if I was going to drug you with a love potion, I would've put it in here," he says. He laughs as Ron stops chewing. "I'm joking."
Ron gives him two middle fingers and continues munching with a mouth full of the crunchy honeycomb.
"It's stuck to my teeth now," they say, putting a finger in his mouth to try and extract some of the sticky honey.
"You're going to taste like honeycomb," Draco smiles, placing a hand on the side of Ron's neck.
"Is that your really subtle hint for us to kiss?" Ron says.
"How did you guess?"
Ron hesitates, still chewing on the chocolate. "I don't want to kiss, my mouth's all chocolately."
"Suit yourself," Draco says, wrapping his arms around them instead.
"You're crushing me you bastard," he says, exaggerating a cough as Ron rests their whole body weight onto him.
"Sorry," they say, but Draco wraps his arms tightly around their torso before they begin to move away. "Thank you for the chocolates. Do you want one?"
"No thanks, I'm still full from eating the Christmas pudding," Draco says, gesturing to his stomach which Ron is now lying on top of. "Can't you tell?"
"Oh, yeah, you're practically pregnant," Ron scoffs, patting his flat stomach.
"When can we do your present?" Draco asks, playing gently with their hair.
"Give us a minute," murmurs Ron. They close their eyes and lie in peaceful silence. "Your stupid square cake thing has taken it all out of me."
"What happened to having loads of energy?" Draco scoffs. "You've already had a twenty-minute nap."
Suddenly, a sharp knock on the door jolts them both up.
"Draco?" calls Snape's voice from the hall.
"Shit," whispers Ron. They exchange panicked glances, frozen.
"Draco?" repeats Snape.
Draco and Ron quickly rearrange themselves into a more appropriate position on opposite ends of the sofa, Draco pulling his T-shirt back on.
"He won't care," he says eventually.
Ron bites their lip nervously. "You sure?"
"Yeah." He goes over to open the door.
"We need to talk," says Snape, striding in. "Good evening, Weasley," he drawls as he glances at Ron sitting tensely on the sofa. "If you wouldn't mind."
Ron takes the hint and gets up.
"If you want to wait out there, I'll come and get you once we're done," Draco mutters to them on the way out.
Snape surveys the room, noting the wrapping paper strewn across the floor and the strong smell of cinnamon and dates.
Once Ron leaves, Draco smoothes down his shirt and tries to reassume any remaining thread of professionalism.
"I came to give you news. The Dark Lord has new plans," says Snape. The way Draco's eyes dull over doesn't pass him by.
"Ve's thinking of moving all the Dark Force presence to the residence of an outside party soon as a long-term arrangement," he says.
"Why?" Draco frowns. He hasn't heard of anything happening recently that could've escalated the war. "What's happened?"
"Nothing has happened," says Snape. "It's just a precaution, I suppose. Think of it as a way to centralise the Dark Forces and make running everything more effective. It's preparation, really."
Draco nods, a sense of unease overcoming him as with any time he's reminded of the battle and his inevitable involvement in it.
"I suspect the Dark Lord is going to be using you a lot more as an inside source into Hogwarts," says Snape. "Obviously, I used to do all of that but the Dark Lord hasn't used me much recently. I assume ve is looking for someone else. I believe your father is pushing for you to be more involved, also."
Draco nods, resisting the urge to let out a scream of frustration. Of course his father is knee-deep in all of this and dragging him along for the ride.
"I want you to be prepared," says Snape, massaging his temples as he considers how to word this.
"Prepared for what?" Draco says. He feels as though there's something Snape isn't telling him.
"You need to be wary of who you talk to around Hogwarts. You could risk putting friends or others in danger if they tell you information because the Dark Lord will want you to relay all of that information to vem, no exceptions. And ve can tell when you're lying."
He regards Draco's slightly confused expression. "Look, this is about Ron," he says plainly. Draco's eyes widen in concern at their name mentioned in such context.
"What do you mean, what about Ron?" he asks.
"I don't know the... nature of your relationship with him," Snape says slowly, trying to be careful with his words. "And that's obviously none of my business, but it's for the best that you don't get too involved with anyone on that side of the war. Not that I'm-. Right. It's fine but what I'm trying to say is that it is absolutely imperative that you do not talk about anything to do with the war or Potter or anything like that with him. Information could get into the wrong hands either way then both of you will be compromised."
Draco shakes his head, exhaling in relief at Snape's question- he thought that was going in another direction completely. "No, we don't talk about any of that," he says. "We established that from the start."
"Good," says Snape. He has a burning curiosity to ask about him and Ron, but he puts it to one side. Now is not the time.
"There's no easy way to say this, Draco," says Snape in an even graver voice. "But I gather that no one else is going to tell you this, so I'll say it now: if you don't fulfill the tasks the Dark Lord gives you then there will be severe consequences."
Draco goes white at the implication. "The Dark Lord will kill me if I don't do what ve says?"
"No, not necessarily," Snape says quickly. "Only if you go out of your way to disobey vem, which I'm sure you won't. I just wanted to warn you in case you were expecting some leniency due to your age or family situation. The Dark Lord sees you as adult as anyone now and ve will spare you the same amount of mercy as anyone else."
"Brillant," Draco sighs, masking his growing fear through sarcasm.
"But you'll be safer under veir protection than here at Hogwarts because ve wants you alive," Snape assures him. "You're extremely valuable to the Dark Forces."
"So as long as I do what the Dark Lord tells me and I keep my mouth shut around Ron, I'm fine?"
"Yes," says Snape. "I've been ordered to protect you too, as far as Hogwarts is concerned. You'll be absolutely fine."
"What does ve want me to do then?"
"Ve's going to lay the premises down once we're moved out of Hogwarts, so I don't know yet."
Draco tries to wrap his head around this. "So how long will we be gone? And where?"
"As soon as I know I'll tell you, but there's a high possibility that it could be at Malfoy Manor. I know you're going back to your parent's house tomorrow and that's why I came to tell you this so late. I think the Dark Lord is going to start relocating everyone towards the end of January, then maybe February ve's going to lay out veir plans. We've got at least another month so don't worry."
"Alright," says Draco, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Won't Dumbledore try and stop vem from taking us there?"
"There's not much he can do if we decide to leave unless he imprisones us or something drastic. Knowing him, the idea isn't too far-fetched but I expect he'll be too wary of making the war snowball."
"Right."
"We just wait until we're summoned," says Snape. "If plans change, I'll send you a letter. I should go now, it's late."
"Okay," says Draco.
Snape starts walking to the door. "Did he get you anything nice?" he says in a much softer tone after an indecisive pause.
Draco freezes for a second, then realises what Snape must be referring to. "I was just about to open it then, uh, you came in."
"I won't interrupt for any longer then," says Snape.
"Have a good Christmas, Draco."
"You too," Draco says, slightly thrown off by the question.
Snape walks back to his room. He reflects on how he presented, applauding himself for staying focussed when all he noticed was the love and adoration pouring from Draco's eyes.
He caught the way Draco grasped his arm before they left, and the way he intently watched them go. The exhaustion in his eyes whilst talking about Voldemort, the sparks returning as he left to get Ron.
This should've him and Lily.
He walks down the dark corridors and back to his room.
"He creeps me out," Ron mutters once they've settled back in Draco's room.
"Who, Professor Snape?"
"Yeah," says Ron. "I don't know, he just gives me weird vibes. Why was he here this time?"
Draco shrugs. "He just wanted to talk to me. Voldemort stuff. Now come over to the fire, you're shivering."
Ron obeys, sits on the sofa in front of the fireplace, and burrows himself under the blanket left there.
"He doesn't seem in the least bit bothered though," they comment. "About us."
"Yeah, I wouldn't have expected that from him. It's nice, I suppose."
"Now can you open my present?" Ron says, pushing his head into Draco to get him to retrieve their present from the bed.
"Yes, okay."
Draco passes the gift resting on the bed to Ron.
"Ta-da," they say, handing over their small rectangular gift.
Draco mimics them shaking it next to their ear, making Ron scoff.
"What?" Draco grins. "That's what you did with mine."
"Yeah, but that's not going to tell you anything."
"It's like there's an echo in here," Draco comments, getting an irritated tut from Ron.
"Just open it," they say. They watch Draco make a concise tear in the side of the present and open it, wiggling side to side in expectancy. "I hope you'll like this," he says.
Draco takes out the gift. It's a CD with a bright illustrated cover with a large distinctive face on it.
"Is this Boy George?" Draco exclaims, flipping over to the back cover.
"Even better," says Ron.
"'Culture Club, Colour by Numbers'," Draco reads out, a smile spreading over his face as he scans over the tracklist. "This is so cool, Ron. You're lucky I didn't already have this album, actually."
"It wasn't luck," says Ron. "I went through your CD collection the other week."
"Did you fuck," Draco snorts. "When?"
Ron waves his hand about. "I don't know, a while ago. Anyway, I was trying to spy on your music taste and this is more downbeat than your other ones I guess, but yeah." He shrugs, satisfied with Draco's reaction. "I thought you could do with something a bit different."
"Yeah, definitely," Draco nods enthusiastically. "Thank you Ron, this is so cool."
Ron beams. "You're welcome."
He goes over to the bookcase to put the CD on the pile with his others.
"Um, Draco?" Ron says, aware he's managed to work up an impressive blush in the time Draco since left the sofa.
"What's up?" Draco turns back around, seeing Ron fidgeting.
"I'm ready for that kiss now. If you want."
Draco disguises a smile. "You're bloody adorable."
Ron gives an embarrassed laugh as Draco sits back down next to them, cupping his face with his hands. They sit like this for a long moment, just staring into each other's eyes.
"Are you going to kiss me?" Draco asks.
A noise comes from the back of Ron's throat. "I was waiting for you to kiss me," they say.
"Bloody hell, alright," he smiles and doesn't hesitate another second before pressing his lips onto Ron's. As promised, he can taste the sweet mix of honey on the tip of their tongue.
They don't hold the kiss for too long, and five minutes later they're sitting together on the sofa, Draco's arms draped over Ron 'to conserve warmth'.
"So, what are you doing for Christmas?" asks Ron, breathing in the metallic smell from Draco's small cross-shaped necklace hanging right next to their nose.
"I'll be going back to my house," Draco says. "We never do anything much, it's not really a big occasion. We don't do presents or anything, it's just the main meal and I go for a run in the afternoon."
"That sounds shit," says Ron, patting his arm in sympathy.
"It's honestly not that bad, I don't like big events anyway. I prefer my own company."
"Doesn't your family come round to enjoy the festivities?"
Draco chokes back a laugh at the image in his mind of the Blacks and the Lestranges participating in anything remotely jolly. "Fuck, no," he says. "And I am forever grateful that they don't. Imagine Christmas dinner with Bellatrix bloody Lestrange opposite you talking about all the lives she's ruined recently."
"I suppose you've got a point," Ron says.
"What about you?" asks Draco, sliding an arm around Ron's shoulders. "I'm guessing you do something a bit more festive."
"Yeah, we do," says Ron. "All my brothers come home for Christmas and an aunt, that's my mum's sister, and all her family comes round too. There's about..." Their nose scrunches up as they try to do the mental maths. "Twenty of us? Give or take."
"Fucking hell," Draco says. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather come to my house for Christmas? I doubt they'd notice you were gone."
Ron rolls his eyes. "They'd probably be thinking 'where's that ginger kid we always piss off gone?' And don't even get me started on the actual day," he sighs. "I swear I've never had a Christmas where I wake up at a sensible time, it's always Ginny bouncing up and down on my bed at 5 am or Fred and George doing a dumbass prank when it's not even light yet. Once everyone's awake, we do presents. We have this whole system of names in a hat that Percy figured out that means you get a present for three other people and you end up with three presents. So this year I got my dad, Bill, and one of my cousins."
"What did you get them?"
"Oh, nothing special," Ron says. "The cousin is, like, three, so I got her a toy, my dad's getting a book and Bill is getting a jumper." He perks up. "But the Christmas dinner is the best bit," they say excitedly. "My parents make it and it's a proper muggle dinner. There's turkey as the centerpiece, loads of roast vegetables, stuffing balls, gravy, Yorkshire puddings, bread sauce, cranberry sauce. And then for afters, there's a Christmas pudding kind of like the one you made, but with dates and orange peel in."
"Orange peel?" Draco says, pulling a face. "Why would you put orange peel in a cake?"
"Trust me, it tastes so good, it's, like, the best food ever."
"Okay, I'll take your word for it," says Draco. "It does sound nice to be fair. We usually have a steak and asparagus as the main meal and it's nice but bland."
"You're missing out," Ron says. "One day, I'll take you out to get a proper Christmas dinner. If you want to."
"Yeah, it sounds great," says Draco. "You're paying though."
Ron shoves him. "The bloody cheek on you. You're loaded and you expect me to pay?"
Draco chuckles at their glare. "I thought it was your treat."
"The man is supposed to pay for the first date," Ron grumbles. "You bloody stinge."
"All right, all right, I suppose I could muster up a few spare pounds," Draco grins.
"You'd better do."
"Ron, you're still shivering," says Draco, noticing Ron's hand twitching slightly.
"Yeah, sorry, I'm really cold all of a sudden. I think it was the wind blowing on me in the corridor."
Draco pulls Ron down into his lap and wraps his warm arms around them along with the blanket to cover him.
"Sorry, that's my fault," Draco says. "I should've gone somewhere else with Professor Snape instead of making you stay out there."
"It's fine, I'm fine," says Ron, muffled under the blanket. "You're all toasty and warm, I'll be okay in a few minutes."
"Should I make you a cup of tea? Or hot chocolate or something?"
"You don't have a kettle in here, do you?"
"Um, no," says Draco, realising the flaw in his suggestion. "But I could go down to the kitchen."
"Don't go," Ron says, then winces at how clingy that sounded. But Draco just finds it remarkably sweet.
"Okay," Draco smiles. He stays and he holds them.
"I should head off now," Ron says eventually after the two have exhausted telling each other their Christmas plans.
"All right," says Draco, glancing up to the clock. It's almost 2 am.
"Bloody hell, it's late," Ron says as they also look to the clockface. "I didn't even realise."
"The train tomorrow is going to be so much fun on four hours of sleep," Draco says dryly.
"Don't remind me."
"You're not the one going to be wedged into a carriage made for four kids with six adult-sized people inside," says Draco. "All yelling at each other and arguing constantly."
"No, I've got Harry and Hermione practically sitting on each other's laps in front of me for three hours instead," Ron sighs.
"Ew."
Draco embraces Ron at the door.
"Thanks for sharing your tradition with me," Ron says. "It was fun even if I slept through half of it."
Draco smiles and gently strokes his hand down Ron's cheek. "Good kissing too," he says, making their face heat up under his touch. "Thank you for the present, as well. It's very me."
"I'm glad you like it," says Ron, clutching his two gifts. "And I won't be out of trousers you gave me the entire holidays, so cheers for them."
"Good, because they suit you."
"So see you when? First Tuesday back?" Ron asks.
"Yeah, I'll see you then," says Draco. "Have a good Christmas, Ron."
"Merry Christmas," Ron grins. "Night, Draco."
"Bye-bye, see you soon."
"See you."
[10 days eariler]
Slughorn stirs his cup of coffee. It's a muggle commodity but contains the perfect amount of caffeine to keep him awake tonight. He stares down at the faded markings on the Marauder's map which lies on his desk, his eyes glued to the static footsteps of Dumbledore. Two weeks until Christmas day and the world is moving as dreadfully slowly as usual.
The map was a trial to obtain, and it's not been worth it so far. He wishes he could put it down to nosiness but it's so much more than that; he needs information, anything to use as a bargaining chip, a step up to get himself power on either side of the war. Slughorn is sick of lurking in the shadows, waiting on the side-lines.
He wants to be recognised.
Midnight hits and Slughorn is still fixated on the map. Dumbledore's footsteps still haven't moved from his study. There's no hint of the promised meeting he overheard was happening this time in the observatory. To pass time, he scans around other parts of the school to see what else, if anything, is going on.
Most of the students are in their dormitories as expected and most staff are in their rooms too.
As he skims over the north wing of the second floor, he notices two sets of footsteps in a small, unrecognisable room near Remus' classroom. Out of pure boredom, he takes a closer look, imagining it will be nothing of importance. Instead, to his shock, he sees the names Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy in fine italics. He does a double take, thinking he must've read it wrong. But the names stay as clear as day, practically on top of each other in the unmarked room.
Slughorn wracks his brains. His first instinct is that the map is wrong. Why would Ron and Draco be meeting at night? Maybe they had something to settle, or Ron was secretly feeding information to Draco, or vice versa, or by some ironic twist of fate they'd become friends.
Finally, Dumbledore's footsteps start to move, and Slughorn pushes the questions about Draco and Ron to the back of his mind. It's probably nothing.
It's only until the second time that Slughorn catches Draco and Ron together the following Tuesday that he even considers the possibility that they could be meeting for alternate means to the war.
At first, he dismisses the idea. After all, they're sworn enemies, their families hate each other, they're extremely hostile to each other around school. It simply wouldn't make sense.
But the more he watches the map, the less he can think of any other feasible possibility.
Eventually, after watching them meet on the last evening of term, Slughorn concludes that they must be in some sort of a relationship.
He knows that knowledge is power- it's been drilled into him from ever since he was a child- and this is a tremendous piece of knowledge to have all to himself.
The question is: how can he use this to his advantage?