[Friday 6th June, four days later]

"Don't kiss me," Draco says, stepping away from Ron as they enter his bedroom on Friday evening. "I'm all snotty."

"Gross." Ron pulls a face. "But you're not getting out of it that easily."

Draco smiles as Ron gestures him forwards.

"Fine, but don't complain when there's mucus dripping into your mouth."

"Fuck off, that isn't funny."

"You've been warned."

Their lips come together in a long kiss. Draco hugs Ron's shoulders, the pressure making his shirt rub against his tender arm, and he remembers it all over again. It wasn't like he forgot, but seeing Ron always suspends his negative thoughts.

"How's the Quidditch been going?" Draco asks, clinging onto the pretence that nothing happened last Saturday.

Ron rests their back against the door, staring into Draco's blue eyes. "Mostly well," he says, flushing as they remember last week, Draco pushing them against this door then making out with him in the most passionately intense way. Draco watches them blush, and he also thinks back to the events of the previous week, him throwing off his shirt like it were nothing. He imagines Ron's reaction now, with the ugly skull plastered across his lower arm. Would they even want to be in the same room as him anymore?

"Do you want to..." Ron suggests slowly, reaching for his shoulders.

"Ron," Draco says before they go any further. He steps back, feet almost back at the sofa.

"Yeah?"

"I need to tell you something."

"If it's about another disgusting allergy you have, I don't want to hear it." Ron's smile fades as Draco's mouth doesn't lift one bit. "What is it?"

Draco runs a hand through his hair. "You can't mention this to anyone. Professor Snape would have a fit if he knew I told you."

"Why, what is it?" Ron asks seriously.

Draco pulls up his right sleeve and reveals the black serpent breaking through the mouth of a skull. He stares at it in silence; the image speaks for itself.

Ron's jaw drops as he stares at the tattoo. They look where the mark has imprinted itself into Draco's pale arm, the raw skin from where it looks like he's been scratching.

"You're a Death Eater," he states.

Draco rolls back down his sleeve, the harsh words stinging the air, the label of 'Death Eater' rolling off Ron's tongue with angry accusation.

"Yeah."

"What the fuck, Draco? When did that happen?"

"Last Saturday."

Ron stares at his arm in shock, the black sleeve self-consciously covering the tattoo. "Did you want to have it?"

"No, Ron, of course I didn't fucking want it," Draco snaps. "Just when I wanted to escape in a few years from all this, now I'm in. For good. It's there forever now. I can never fucking escape my family's bloody legacy of being Voldemort's slave. Why the fuck would I want this?" He scratches his arm, then stops, sinking his head into his hands. "Sorry. I'm not pissed off at you, it's just this whole thing is messing with my head."

Ron shrugs it off, his eyes fixated on Draco's lower arm. A Death Eater: after everything his parents warned him about, all the stories his friends shared, seeing their destruction and terror imposed first-hand, here he is standing in a Death Eater's bedroom. Back against the door wanting to be kissed by a Death Eater, staring into his calculated pale eyes that hold the power to destroy them and everything they love.

"Ron?" Draco says tentatively. It's not like Ron to be completely lost for words. Even in his most flustered of states, they usually manage to blurt something half-sensical out. But not today. Today there is just silence.

"What even happened?" Ron asks after another pause. Maybe nothing has to change. Maybe it's just another thing that he'll have to ignore, another fact to brush under the rug, another moment to pretend he never saw.

"My father dragged me to a place in the middle of the night, didn't tell me what was going on, then surprise, the Dark Lord was there and I became a Death Eater," Draco says bitterly.

Ron looks away from him for a long moment. They knew what they were getting into by starting all this. True, they didn't know how hard they'd fall for the arrogant blond Slytherin, and they didn't take the decision lightly, knowing the connotations that come with being a Malfoy. Although it's a shock, when it comes down to it, Ron is still standing in Draco's bedroom, still craving his touch, still staring into his eyes, knees still weak when he looks at them in a certain way.

It seems that Draco realises what Ron is weighing up in their head because his expression gets dramatically more serious.

"I'm not like them, Ron," he says, stepping closer. "I'm not going to start killing and torturing mudbl-" he cuts himself off, the slur coming out on impulse. "The muggle-borns and half-bloods and reign fear and death over Hogwarts. I don't want to be involved with any of this. My father made me. I promise I wanted this as much as you did."

"I know," Ron says, making up their mind; Draco is still Draco. "So they forced you to get the mark?"

"Yeah."

"That's messed up."

"It's fine," Draco sighs, relieved at Ron for not flipping out. "My father needed something like that, something big, to appease Voldemort with or else he was for the chop. And as much as he gets on my nerves, it would be a bit awkward if he died."

"Yeah."

"I had a right go at him on Saturday," Draco says. "I said he's ruined my life and he was a selfish prick for offering me up to become one of them to save his own skin."

"And is he?"

Draco pauses. "Yeah," he says. "But people do stupid stuff when they're scared for their life. I just wish he wouldn't have used me. He could've thought of some other way. I suppose I was the easiest option."

"It's fucked to do that to your son, though."

"He was scared," Draco says, surprised to find himself defending his father. "I don't care, I would've become one at some point if I stayed here. It makes sense what he did."

Draco holds the sides of his face, glancing back at Ron looking at him.

"It was logical," he admits. "It was a logical decision to make, but it still fucking hurts."

"Aw, Draco," Ron sighs, going over and hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Draco mumbles, breathing into the familiar soft fabric of Ron's jumper.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Draco utters after another long minute of subdued silence. "We need to do something to pick ourselves up."

Ron takes his weight off him. "Like what?"

"I was thinking we have disgustingly hot sex until all our problems are nutted away."

"Draco," Ron groans. "That's actually vile."

Draco allows himself a laugh. "Ok, fine. We could..."

"Drink ourselves blackout drunk," Ron suggests.

"Did you bring alcohol?"

"No, don't you have any?"

"Why would I have alcohol?" says Draco.

Ron shrugs. "It's something you'd have. Or, like, weed."

"Weed," Draco snorts. "No, darling Ron, I don't have alcohol or weed. Sorry to disappoint."

"We could cast a spell on a drink," says Ron, ignoring his lopsided smile. "Or a love potion. Yeah, that's what we should do- make two love potions and drink them at the same time and fall deeply in love with each other."

"That's disgustingly hot sex but with extra steps," Draco points out.

"Maybe we should just fuck then, is that what the universe is trying to tell us?"

Draco and Ron dissolve into a long-overdue fit of giggles and the dead tension in the room lifts.

"I'm putting AC/DC on, and you can't stop me," Draco says, leaping towards the CD player.

"Fuck's sake," says Ron, secretly pleased with the change in mood.

"I can't believe you've been coming to my goblin den of a room for nine months and have gotten away with not listening to a single AC/DC song," says Draco. "I've let myself down."

"I didn't even know you were a fan of this sort of music," Ron says.

"I can't believe you know nothing about me," Draco exclaims. "AC/DC is my all-time favourite band ever. This is my shit."

"Hmph," Ron huffs, not hiding the scornful look on his face. "At least put one I know on."

"Which ones do you know?" Draco asks as he slots the CD in.

"The only ones I can think of off the top of my head are Are You Ready? and that one that goes doo duh duh doo then screaming."

Draco lets out a wheeze at the half-hearted attempt at recreating a melody. "Do that again, I didn't quite catch that."

Ron crosses their arms at Draco's amused grin. "Just put the other one on."

"Alright," snickers Draco, and skips to track number ten.

Are You Ready? starts blaring out of the speakers, practically making the room vibrate.

"Someone's going to hear this," Ron shouts over the music as he gets up and meets Draco on their makeshift dance floor behind the sofa.

"Well they can go fuck themselves," Draco yells back. "It's party time."

The two grin at the sudden adrenaline rush of the loud music playing, and start jumping up and down without a care in the world for how it looks.

"Are you ready?" they both scream in sync with the music, then double over laughing at they didn't expect the other one to shriek out the line in perfect unison.

There's a lot of bouncing up and down and spinning round and round, any attempt of conversation instantly drowned out.

Draco tries a move in the closing line of the song where he spins Ron around while holding their hand then catches them halfway to the floor.

Unsurprisingly, they don't pull it off and they both end up in a pile on the carpet laughing their heads off at the extravagance of the move. The song cuts out and they are left in silence, but this time comfortable, happy silence.

"I'm glad we got that out of our systems," Ron says as they flop back down on the sofa out of breath.

"You were enjoying yourself a bit too much for someone who hates rock music," says Draco.

"I never said I hated rock music," Ron protests. "All it was is that I didn't want heavy bloody air guitar bursting a hole in my eardrums on that particular night."

"So what you're saying is you do like rock?"

"No," says Ron. They laugh at Draco's exasperated groan.

"What do you like then?" he asks.

"You'd have to see my extensive CD collection," Ron says, kicking their feet back onto the table. "Only problem is that it's at home."

"If you give me the name of an album I can go and buy it," says Draco.

"Forgot you were filthy rich."

"That's me," Draco grins, pulling Ron's legs around to his chest. "Filthy and rich, the perfect combination."

"You've just been bloody traumatised by getting this stupid Dark Mark thing, don't you think we should leave kissing to a different evening?" Ron says as Draco shuffles into the position they usually have heavy duty make-out sessions in.

"Absolutely not," says Draco, leaning forward and nudging his face into Ron's neck.

"Don't kiss there, you'll give me hickeys," Ron says as he starts softly kissing down their jawline and onto their neck.

"This is hardly going to give you a hickey, is it? I'm barely touching you."

"Just kiss my lips like a normal human being," says Ron. "You're not a vampire."

"I'd rather not," Draco says, flopping back away from them on the other end of the sofa.

Ron pulls an irritated face. "What the hell have I done?"

"What?"

Ron gestures like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "What do you mean you'd rather not?"

"I'd rather not kiss you on the lips," says Draco.

"Draco," Ron splutters, not knowing where to begin. "That's so fucking rude."

"Why's that rude?"

"The way you said 'I'd rather not' like I've pissed you off."

"You have pissed me off, you're denying me my vampire roleplay," Draco says, deadpan.

Ron glares over at him, about to unleash all the pent-up rage that's been building from every aspect of their life over the last seventeen years, then they catch a small grin playing on Draco's lips.

"Fuck off," they huff. "You're such a fucking twat, I hate you."

"Aw, come on, you don't hate me," Draco smiles, leaning forward to kiss them on the lips this time. Ron wraps his arms around Draco's shoulders and kisses him back harder. It's not long before the pair are breathlessly tangled up lying down on the sofa.

"You're reminding me why I got into this relationship in the first place," Ron says as Draco throws off his jumper then T-shirt.

"Yeah, why's that?"

Ron rests a hand on his chest with a smirk. "Purely your body."

Draco releases a short wheeze, moving himself around so he's back on top, stradelling Ron at the waist. "At least you're honest."

"That was supposed to be a joke," says Ron, their breath hitching at the pressure on their middle. "I was getting back at you for earlier."

"Of course it was a joke," Draco murmurs. "Act like you're not gasping for me inside you right now."

"Draco," Ron exclaims. "What the hell?"

Draco laughs as their flustered hands draw away from his chest, remembering Ron's comment about treating him like a china doll before he worries about going too far. "Come on, it's not like you weren't thinking it."

Ron knows he's currently turning extremely red in the face. "You don't have the balls to fuck me," they end up saying.

"Is that a challenge?" Draco smirks, pushing Ron back by their shoulders until they're lying flat down on the sofa underneath him. "Because I'd tear you to fucking shreds."

"Go on then," Ron swallows, their heart racing. "See what you can do to me with my five bloody layers on because I'm not taking anything off."

"Challenge accepted."

Draco grinds his hips against Ron's lower abdomen and Ron releases a heavy breath. An uncontrollable sensation overcomes them and their knees buckle, Draco rubbing his body against his midriff, hard. The second time, they gasp out, "Draco," feeling as though another pressured thrust would make him implode.

"Sorry," Draco starts, misinterpreting Ron's exclamation. "I thought you wanted to." He kneels up to take the pressure off them, but Ron pulls him back down by the waist.

"No, I do want you to," they say. "Keep, uh, keep doing that. Please."

Draco smiles at this and it takes every effort to restrain himself from pushing any harder.

Draco continues this for another five minutes, Ron shutting his eyes and clenching onto Draco's shoulders for as long as he can bear, the pleasure increasing with each second their bodies rub together.

"Can we stop?" Ron eventually says, seeing a flash of white every time they close their eyes and getting scared of the territory they're venturing towards.

Draco rolls to one side and Ron props themselves back up with their elbows, brushing the stray stands of hair off their sweaty forehead.

"Fuck, I was close," Draco says with a breathy laugh, taking a second to recover.

"I don't think I've felt like that before," says Ron. "Bloody hell, it felt fucking great."

"We barely even did anything," Draco says, shuffling back over to sit beside them.

"Are you kidding? It was like fully clothed sex."

"It was pretty hot," Draco says, wiping his brow.

"Oh my fucking God, you're blushing," Ron laughs at the two pink spots on Draco's cheeks.

"Piss off, Weasely, of course I'm fucking blushing. I've just been sat on top of you for ten minutes," Draco says defensively.

Ron giggles at him.

"You're blushing too," Draco points out in an attempt to save face.

"I'm always blushing," they reply.

"You know what's better than sex with clothes on?" Draco says another minute later.

Ron raises an eyebrow at the insinuation. "Would it be sex without clothes on by any chance?" they say dryly.

"Why are you giving me that look?" Draco says. "It's just sex, what are you so scared of?"

"Nothing," they say. "It's just, I don't know."

Draco runs a finger down the side of their neck. "I'd be gentle with you."

"I doubt that," Ron snorts.

"Ron, I would," says Draco, gazing into their eyes. "I promise I would take it slowly."

"Yeah," Ron says, serious again. "I know you would but that's not the problem."

"What is the problem then?"

"I don't know," says Ron. "I've never, you know. I've never done stuff like that before."

"You've done loads of stuff like that before," Draco smirks. "What about my birthday? What about literally three minutes ago?"

"It's not the same though."

Draco brings them in for a long hug, not pressing them any further.

"Well, whenever you're ready, let me know," he mutters into their ear. "And if you're never ready, then we can do more fully clothed sex because that was fucking fun."

"Okay," Ron smiles, letting themselves be hugged. "Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever, like, gone the full way?" they ask hesitantly. "Like, with a guy?"

Draco runs his hands through Ron's hair, almost laughing at the shy delivery of the question. He's just so bloody adorable. "No, I haven't," he says. "So it would be new for me too. Who knows, maybe we'd both fuck it up."

"Yeah, maybe."

Ron closes their eyes and feels the soft sensation of Draco's hand stroking their hair as they calm down to their normal heart rate. They stay like this for a while, neither feeling possibly close to sleep after the sudden excitement. Both Ron and Draco's minds slip back to the beginning of the evening, and Draco groans as he remembers his Dark Mark must've been on display while with Ron.

"What is it?" Ron asks in a half-whisper as they feel Draco's shift in demeanour.

"I just realised I had my fucking Death Eater mark out the whole time," Draco sighs.

"It didn't put me off."

"I hope Voldemort has a spy hole through those things," Draco says with a smirk. "Ve tunes in hoping to get some important intel and just sees gay sex."

Ron laughs. "Oh, God, please that would be so funny. Ve wants to see how the esteemed Draco Malfoy is getting on with his crucial tasks and just sees him absolutely battering a Weasely scum on his bedroom floor."

Despite the whole situation, Draco can't help but wheeze out a laugh at this. "Ve sees the prestigious Draco Malfoy five inches deep into this random ginger kid in the second-floor bathrooms."

"The bloody second-floor bathrooms," Ron chokes out, both of them red in the face from laughing.

"See, it's not all bad," Ron says, elbowing him lightly.

"Yeah, I've now got the Dark bloody Lord tuned into my extremely dry sex life, what a thrill."

"Extremely dry?" Ron scoffs. "Excuse you."

"Oh, come on, ve's going to want to see more than a bit of kissing," says Draco. "Ve definitely has a praise kink or something. There's a full-ass God complex in there somewhere."

"Shut up," Ron gasps. "You cannot say that Lord Voldemort has a praise kink."

Draco wheezes out another ream of laughter. "Ve does though, like, a hundred percent. Why do you think ve gets everyone to call vem 'Lord' and fucking bow every time you enter veir presence?"

"Isn't that more of a worship kink?" Ron says.

"I suppose you're right," Draco nods, stifling another laugh. "Bloody Voldemort and veir worship kink. I bet ve gets off on people calling vem 'Lord'."

"This is definitely, like, blasphemy or something," Ron says, their cheeks aching from smiling.

"Imagine my dad heard a single word from this conversation," Draco snickers. "He'd be disowning me before I could blink."

"And that's before knowing about you shagging a Weasely," Ron snorts. "Now have we finished speculating on Voldemort's kinks?"

"I suppose so," Draco grins. "But I could definitely think up a few more if you gave me another thirty seconds."

"Why don't you give vem something to wank off to instead?" Ron says without thinking through the words coming out of his mouth.

Draco's eyebrows shoot up. "Wow," he says at the unusual directness. "That's a line and a half."

Ron's blush returns. "Nothing like before," they say as Draco slides a hand across to their waist. "Don't sit on top of me again, just kiss. Like usual."

"Whatever you want, Ron," Draco smiles, gently pressing his lips onto Ron in a much tamer kiss.

"I should go," Ron mumbles sometime later. Draco's halfway through a sudoku and they've been resting their chin on his shoulder for the last half-hour watching him.

"You're going?" Draco says, turning around with a rejected face that Ron wishes they didn't have to deny.

"Yeah, it's really late," says Ron. Draco looks up to the clock: it's already past two.

"Oh yeah, it is late."

Draco puts down his sudoku book and walks Ron to the door.

"I know this is all getting a bit too much with the Death Eater thing and all the plans being made and stuff," Draco says. "But thanks for coming tonight, I've really enjoyed myself. You've made me feel a bit better about the whole situation, which is saying something."

"I'm glad," Ron smiles, bringing him into a big hug. "And I'm sorry you were forced to become a Death Eater and made to get the whole mark thing by your dad."

"It was only a matter of time," Draco mutters, holding the back of Ron's head as if he never plans on letting them go.

"Alright," Ron nods awkwardly as they open the door. So many thoughts and words go unsaid in these last few seconds they spend together at the door. It's always Draco's clear eyes pouring with emotion but never voicing anything, and them wishing he would just say it first. But it's been long enough now, and they don't know what in the world could make Draco Malfoy say the three words that they're so desperate to hear.

"I'll see you Tuesday?" Draco says.

"Yeah, I'll see you then," says Ron. "Night, Draco."

"Goodnight, Ron."

The door shuts behind them with a soft click. Draco picks up his sudoku book and tries to distract himself from the sense of unease that he's missing something with Ron. They always linger a second longer than necessary and it feels like they're waiting for something to be said, something more to be done.

But telepathic communication isn't exactly their forté so Draco puts the thoughts to the back of his head and focuses on completing the grid of numbers. He would do anything Ron wants, would give up anything just to see them smile. The only problem is, he doesn't know what they want.

Remus holds the cup of tea Snape handed to him a minute ago, letting the heat warm up his chin.

"Nothing beats a nice cup of tea," he says, shuffling back in the armchair and propping his feet up.

"You can get your shoes off my sofa for a start," says Snape. "I have the grace to invite you into my room and you return the favour by getting mud everywhere," he grumbles, brushing the barely noticeable smudge of dirt off the bottle green sofa.

"I've hardly got it muddy, have I?"

"No bloody manners, that's what you've got."

"Fucking hell, it's like my mother's in the room," Remus laughs. He gazes around. "It's a nice place you've got in here. Spacious, good view. Mine's a bit too cramped for my liking."

"You'll have to invite me some time so I can put my feet all over your sofa."

"Fuck off," Remus grins. "And inviting yourself round? Classy."

"Thank you."

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the warmth of the summer sun reaching through the windows and brightening the room. Remus finishes his tea and rests the mug on the floor. He shuffles around to face Snape directly. "So, how have you been?"

"Fine," says Snape.

"Is that it?" Remus says when Snape doesn't elaborate.

"Yes. How about you?"

"Come on, you've got to give me a bit more than 'fine'."

"Tell me about how it's going with Nymphadora," says Snape. "I'm sure you have plenty to say."

Remus gives him a look but obliges.

"Alright well, I've made a decision," Remus says. "I'm going to try and pick myself up, for good. Get out there, face the world head-on. No more moping around."

"You're allowed to grieve," says Snape.

Remus sighs. "Yeah, but I'm not much use locking myself in my room and drinking myself to death. Winter wasn't great but I think I'm ready to try and start to move on."

"That's good," Snape says with as much feeling as he can put into his flat tone.

"Don't get me wrong, I know I'm never going to properly move on from Sirius, but I need to do something to make things better in the short term," Remus says. "Being depressed is shit. So I've decided to say yes to Nymph. We're going to get married."

Snape looks at Remus for a long second. "Congratulations," he says, reflecting Remus' sober mood. He can tell he isn't happy with it, not really. "When's the wedding?"

"We're planning it for late next month but depending on how things turn out it might get pushed back to August."

"How come?"

"Oh, nothing important," says Remus. "Just bits and pieces."

"Right."

"Severus," Remus starts, looking at him intently. "I have a question."

"Go on."

"We've been seeing each other for half a year now. Well, not seeing, but, you know, being friends and stuff. And you're my best mate, well, my only mate, but you're the closest thing I have to a best friend right now, or probably ever. That's not saying that you're my last option or anything, but uh-"

"Remus, what is it?" Snape says, cutting off his half-formed ramblings.

"Right. Well, I was wondering if you'd do me the honour of being my best man?"

Snape's eyes widen, startled by the unexpected question.

"Don't worry about it if not," Remus says quickly, watching Snape's expression shift.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can," says Snape.

"No, right, yeah," Remus nods.

"I just don't want to get too involved," says Snape. "It's nothing personal."

"No, of course not. I understand."

"You wouldn't want me there anyway," says Snape, attempting to ease Remus' look of disappointment. "I'm not exactly a friendly face."

"You could be."

"Not with everything that I'm doing with the Dark Lord," Snape says. "I couldn't make friends knowing I'm going to betray them all in the end."

"That's- yeah. That's fine. I'll ask my, um, I don't know, Nymph's brother probably."

"Good. I hope it all goes smoothly."

"That's the plan."

"Keep me updated," says Snape.

"Will do. Now can you tell me how things are with you, really?"

Snape leans back in his chair. "They aren't too bad," he says.

"You'll have to try harder than that," Remus snorts.

"What?"

"'They aren't too bad' says with the most depressed look on his face."

Snape allows himself a smile. "Nothing much has been happening. Nothing good, nothing bad. Just same old."

"How bloody boring," Remus rolls his eyes. "Here's me getting married while you're sitting on your arse all day, head in a book doing fuck all."

"I do not 'sit on my arse all day'," says Snape indignantly. "I study and better my already extensive knowledge of magic."

"That is exactly what I just described," Remus says. He laughs as Snape glares at him. "What? It's true," he says. "I was looking through those books you gave me the other day, actually."

"Now there's a surprise," Snape says. "How did you find them?"

Remus pulls a face. "I felt as though I was a page away from keeling over and dying of boredom."

"Those were some of my best books," Snape tuts, although he can't say he's surprised at the response.

"Yeah, I guessed," grins Remus. "Nothing like a light read before bed like the A-Z of Magical Creatures and their Origins. Bloody page-turner. And don't get me started on Cauldron Laws and Regulations in Britain. I honestly thought I'd never get to sleep flicking through that one."

"Alright, I get the idea," Snape says, pursing his lips to hide a smile.

Remus laughs and it must be a trick of the light mixed with sleep deprivation and a slight hangover that makes it look like Sirius is sitting on the sofa opposite him. He focuses his eyes, and in a split second, he's gone again.

"What's the matter?" Snape asks as he notices Remus' face fall. "You like you've seen a ghost."

Remus lets out a humourless laugh at the irony of the statement. "I'm going to sound proper insane here, but when I squinted for a second there you kind of looked like Sirius."

Snape's mild features freeze. "Oh," he says.

"Yeah," Remus says with a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought him up."

Snape is lost for words, and the best response he can muster up is, "I look nothing like Sirius."

Remus raises an eyebrow, the sad edge fading from his words. "Yeah, you do."

"How?"

"What do you mean how?" Remus says with a strained smile. "You've got the same hair as him, for starters."

"Long black hair. That's it."

"Well, you're not exactly..." Remus gestures to his body. "Far from his body type either."

Snape crosses his arms over his several layers of robes self-consciously. "You hardly know my body type."

"No, but I knew his," Remus smirks. "Inside out, you could say."

"Thank you, Remus, but I'd rather not hear about it," says Snape. "You're getting married next month, don't forget."

Remus releases a sharp puff of air. "Doesn't mean I don't get to think about certain people or doing things with certain people," he says with a sly smile.

"Enough," Snape says, holding up a hand. "I've got work to be getting on with."

Remus chuckles at his stony face. "I have so many stories about my sex life that I never got to tell anyone though," he says. "It's so refreshing to finally have someone that won't judge me for being in a relationship with him. I have so much to tell."

"I will not hesitate in becoming exceedingly close-minded if you mention a word about you and Sirius' sex life," Snape says. "So don't even think about it."

"But Severus," Remus whines. "I promise they're entertaining. Just listen. There was this one time in seventh year in the shrieking shack-"

"I'm sure they are entertaining, but I don't want to know," Snape interrupts, causing Remus to get a good laugh out of his system. He gets up and collects together some of the papers he needs to work on and sits down at his desk, facing away.

"Are you seriously doing work at this time?" Remus asks, lazily resting his head on the arm of the sofa and closing his eyes.

"It's not even ten," Snape replies, picking up his quill and beginning to write. "You've distracted me enough this evening. If I don't get on with some work, I'll be behind."

"I've not been here for that long."

"You've been here two hours and eighteen minutes."

"Oh," says Remus. He glances at the clock and sees that Snape is right. "I should get off then, wedding plans to make and all that."

"Ok," Snape says.

Remus stays lying on the sofa for another few minutes, each second telling himself that the next one he will rise.

"Tell me to get out," he eventually says. "It's so comfy here, I don't think I'm ever going to leave."

"Get out," Snape says without any conviction.

"Sound more aggressive," says Remus. "Sound like you're about to hex me if I don't get out right now."

"Get out right now or I'll hex you," says Snape in the same lackluster drawl.

"For God's sake, you're not exactly convincing me."

Snape rolls his eyes and turns around to face him. "I don't mind if you stay, I'll just be looking over this work for a few hours."

Remus, although taken aback by the offer, doesn't show it. "Okay, I might just stay here for another minute then," he says, giving a huge yawn. "My bedroom's a long walk from here, and I have to go up to my classroom first to pick things up and I can't be arsed. It's like fifteen minutes of walking. My legs are tired from yesterday, it was like walking a marathon going to and from Hogsmeade trying to hunt down a stray group of second years. My legs are aching like anything, I've barely had the chance to put my feet up all week."

Snape turns back to his work. "You could just say you wanted to spend time with me instead of making excuses," he points out.

Remus pauses, then smiles. "I know I could, but that sounds gay."

Snape gives him a withering look. "You are gay."

"Exactly why I didn't want you getting the wrong impression."

"Remus," Snape says, grasping for the right words. He doesn't know how to articulate a reply to such a double-edged statement. "I know what your intentions are," he finally says.

"What are my intentions, Severus Snape?" Remus grins sleepily.

"To pursue friendship, I'd assume," he replies. "Which is why you're currently lying on my sofa and not in my bed."

"It's like watching Sherlock bloody Holmes at work," Remus laughs. "How did you figure?"

"Because you kiss anyone you have your eye on the first chance you get alone with them," Snape says offhandedly. Remus is tired, but not tired enough for a directed glare.

"What the hell? No I don't."

Snape makes a small noise and continues scribbling things down. "Well, you certainly don't drag it out for six months by having cups of tea together every week and going on long walks to get lunch at an overpriced café."

"Maybe I do," says Remus, slightly disgruntled. "I'm not like I was, I've grown up now."

Snape turns around and makes eye contact, imploring Remus to get to the point.

"I'm getting married in a month to the woman I love," he says. "So don't look at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you like anything."

"Whatever you say, Severus."

"You don't mind if I rest my eyes for a minute here?" Remus asks.

"No, as long as you stop talking and let me concentrate for once."

"Alright, alright," says Remus, curling up. "Wake me up in a bit. I've got a lesson to teach first thing tomorrow that I can't be sleeping through. About an hour should do it."

"Whatever you say, darling," Snape mutters sarcastically.

"Hm?"

"I said 'whatever you say, darling'."

"Oh, so we're giving each other pet names?" Remus chuckles. "Who's the gay one now?"

Snape ignores him and continues working.

He works through a good portion of the night, only waking Remus up once he starts loudly snoring. Remus returns to his room, thanking Snape for the hospitality on his way out. Snape lies on the sofa for the rest of the night, the warmth from Remus' body heat still lingering. He doesn't know if it's the rare conversation, the way Remus smiled at him, or just the chance to share someone's company, but this evening has soothed some deep, broken part of him.

"Fuck off," Draco says as Ron places down six letters onto the scrabble board to make 'wreth.'

"Eleven points to me," says Ron.

"Wreth is not a word."

"Yes, it is."

"When have you ever heard anyone say wreth? What does it even mean?"

"It means..." Ron tries to think off something of the top of their head.

Draco snorts at their weak attempt and flicks the letters back to Ron's side of the table. "You're full of shit," he says. "Try again."

"Fine, fine, you got me."

Ron suddenly jumps up from the sofa.

"Is that a spider?" they say, pointing to the table while backing into the corner of the room.

Draco moves back and spots the black dot Ron is referring to. A small-bodied spider with long legs crawls up the table leg.

"Looks like it," Draco mutters, scanning around for something to squash it with.

"Draco, get it, it's crawling up the table," says Ron. "Quick, get it before it pounces off."

"It's not going to pounce off," says Draco calmly, reaching for his wand.

Ron lets out a shriek as he fires a curse at the spider and misses, causing it to bolt off the table in fear and onto the floor.

"It's escaping, it's gonna crawl over here, quick get it," Ron pleads, jumping onto the bed.

In one swift motion, Draco stamps down on the spider with his shoe. Dead.

"Got it," he grins, looking over to Ron crouching on the bed fearfully.

"Are you sure? Is it definitely dead?"

"Yeah, I got it," says Draco. He takes his shoe over and shows Ron the bottom, a black blob of crushed spider limbs stuck to it. Ron pulls a face, the fear fading.

"Don't show me it," they say.

Draco drops the shoe onto the floor and bounces onto the bed. "How come I never knew you were scared of spiders?" he says.

"Never came up," Ron says, hugging Draco to comfort himself as a shiver runs down their spine imagining the spider reviving itself and crawling up onto them.

Draco holds him tightly, smiling at Ron. "It was a bit funny," he says.

Ron pushes him away indignantly. "No, it was not. I could've been eaten."

"A spider that size could hardly have taken a bite out of your toe," Draco laughs, rolling on top of them.

"I'm not going back over there," says Ron.

"We'll have to stay in bed then," Draco smirks suggestively, leaning closer to Ron.

"Don't give me that look," they say. "I'm still thinking about spiders crawling all over me with their disgusting legs and fat bodies."

"Imagine if you could have babies with a spider and they had a human body but eight spider legs."

"You've ruined it now," Ron says, pushing Draco off him. He flops down next to them, laughing at Ron's disgusted look.

"Not even a kiss?" Draco says.

"No."

"Not even a tiny little non-spidery kiss?"

Ron grins and turns on their side. "Fine but if you mention spiders again I'm going to throw up in your mouth."

"Scrumptious," Draco says sarcastically. He leans into Ron and their lips connect.

Draco manages to position himself back on top of Ron, straddling them while bending down to continue making out, running his hands through Ron's hair.

"This is the part where we rip off each other's clothes and have erotic sex," Draco murmurs, caressing their cheek.

"Piss off," smiles Ron, the weight of Draco pressing down on them blissfully. "You're lucky you're getting anything."

"This was all calculated, the spider was a clever ploy to get you into bed."

Ron laughs, then pulls Draco by his collar down causing him to flop down right on top of them into another long hug.

"I wouldn't put it past you," they mutter into his ear.

"Come on, I'm not that bad."

"Says the one who fucking stalked me then dragged me into a bathroom cubicle so we could make out when Harry was right there."

Draco grins at the memory. "I loved that though. Spontaneity makes things ten times sexier."

"It was not sexy, you hurt my bloody elbow, didn't even apologise, then-"

Ron's sentence fades away as Draco strokes across their lower stomach, sending butterflies through him.

"I've finally shut you up, have I?" Draco teases.

Ron bites their lip and releases a short, panicked breath. "Uh. You've made me lose my train of thought."

"You were saying how I hurt your elbow," Draco offers, continuing to run his hands under Ron's shirt and round his stomach and up along their ribs.

"Doesn't matter," Ron says, turning his head and gazing into Draco's pale blue eyes.

"Is this turning you on?" Draco smirks.

"Shut up you prick, you know it is."

Draco doesn't hesitate in bringing his legs closer to Ron's and gently puts his lips to theirs. Ron holds it for as long as they dare, before pulling away again. They keep their forehead pressed to Draco's.

"You've got me all comfy," says Ron, cosily nestled under the covers. "I don't want to leave."

"Are you not staying over tonight?"

"I shouldn't," Ron says. "I stayed last week, if it gets too often then people might start noticing."

Draco puts his hand on the back of Ron's head, absently twirling their long strands of ginger hair around. "Okay," he says. "You're leaving now then?"

Ron sighs and glances at the clock. "I suppose so."

"Fuck, we got so close to the erotic sex."

Ron smiles and heaves themselves up off the bed. "Better luck next time."

"I'll have to get an army of spiders."

"Ugh, don't mention the spiders," Ron groans. "I'd almost forgotten about it."

"Shit," Draco says. "My bad."

"Goodnight my heroic spider slayer," Ron says, jumping into Draco's arms for the last time this evening.

"Yeah, whatever you say," Draco says, swinging them around slightly in his arms. "I stamped on it, don't give me too much credit."

"You better wash that shoe."

"I'm not washing a shoe."

"It's got a dead spider smeared across the bottom of it," Ron protests.

"Get the fuck out or I'll smear it on you," says Draco, pretending to reach for his shoe.

Ron makes a quick exit to the door. "You're horrible, you know," they call from the corridor.

"Love you too."

Draco smiles to himself as he scrapes the spider off his shoe. He does a little twirl then settles into bed, the place where Ron lay still warm.