Ron tries to shove their trunk onto the luggage rack above him, before giving up and putting it on the seat next to him. As usual, they, Hermione and Harry have bunched themselves into one of the front cabins together, today accompanied by Neville.
"Hi Neville," Hermione says as he joins the group.
"Hi guys," he says, sitting next to Ron. "Excited to be back?"
"Can't say I am," Ron says.
"You look like you are," says Harry, pointing out Neville's cheery smile.
"Yeah, I am. The holidays were dragging on a bit."
There's an interruption as a woman pushing a trolley bangs on the door. "Want anything?" she calls.
They glance around at each other.
Ron shrugs. "I'm broke."
"Me too," says Neville.
Harry hands some change to the woman. "Can I get four of those pink bags please?"
She exchanges them for the money.
"Are those for us?" asks Neville.
"He's not gonna eat all of them by himself, is he?" Ron says, grabbing the closest pack to them. "Cheers, mate."
"Those are disgusting," Hermione sniffs, watching the other three tuck in. "They're pure sugar."
"Suit yourself," Ron says, snatching her pack from the table. "I'll have them."
"Oi," exclaims Harry.
"You snooze, you lose," Ron grins, pocketing them.
"We're almost adults now," Hermione says haughtily. "And you're still acting like ten year olds. I really don't know why I expected anything different."
"How sociable," Harry remarks when Ron puts their headphones attached to a walkman in.
Ron gives him the finger as AC/DC starts blasting out. Vile music- why anyone would possibly want to listen to this escapes him, he thinks with a smile on their face. They close their eyes and picture Draco jumping around his bedroom, putting his heart and soul into screaming along to the lyrics and doing an adorably awful air guitar solo.
What an idiot, Ron sighs, turning the volume down so they don't permanently damage their hearing. How he can't wait to be back in their idiot's arms.
On the tail end of the train, Draco stares out of the window, trying to tune out the wittering of Blaise and Goyle. He's dreading going back to school and having to see Professor Slughorn again. He desperately hopes that during the summer Slughorn will have realised that he doesn't need to continue this charade anymore. He's wrung Draco dry for every last drop of the social and political influence he can get. What more could he possibly want?
A sharp shriek forces Draco to return to reality. He sees Daphne, Crabbe, Pansy, and Millicent pile into the small cabin.
"There's only room for four in here," Blaise points out.
"Shut up Blaise," Daphne says, elbowing him to move over. "Move your fat arse."
"Girls on this side," Millicent says, pushing a grumbling Goyle over to Draco's side as Pansy and Daphne squeeze next to her.
"There's no room," says Crabbe, standing in the middle, both sides full.
"Sit on Goyle's lap," Pansy giggles.
"Fuck off, I'm not a fag."
"His dick isn't going to slither into your arsehole," Draco scathingly comments. "Sit on his fucking lap or you're sitting on the floor."
Crabbe reluctantly elbows away everyone's feet and makes room to sit on the floor.
"So, what has everyone been doing in the holidays?" asks Daphne.
"Sex," says Goyle deadpan, attracting a few amused looks.
"We're all turning eighteen this year," says Blaise soberly. "Surely we're growing out of sex jokes."
"Absolutely not," Pansy says. "I've been collecting them actually, now you mention it." She clears her throat. "Welcome to the sex innuendo club, thank you all for coming."
There are scattered groans and giggles.
"That's not a joke, that's a pun," says Blaise, with an grimace.
"Pansy, that was shite," Millicent snorts.
She laughs at them. "I try my best."
"I dyed my hair," says Millicent, flicking her plaited hair into Daphne's face.
"What colour?" asks Crabbe.
"Crabbe, are you retarded?" Daphne says. "Use your eyes, man."
"Oh," he says, observing her black hair.
"It suits you," Pansy says. "But I thought you were going with purple?"
"Nah," she replies. "I thought that would be a bit too extra."
"It looks good, Mil," Daphne says, giving a stern frown to Blaise.
"What?" he says.
"Do you like her hair?" Daphne asks pointedly.
"Oh, yes," says Blaise. "Although with your skin tone-"
"I got my hair cut," Pansy interrupts before Blaise overshares his knowledge of the colour spectrum.
Their conversation is cut short by the cabin door sliding open unexpectedly to Pike.
"There's no room," Crabbe says from the floor, thinking he's looking for a place to sit.
"We're already three over the limit," Blaise says firmly.
Pike ignores them both and looks at Daphne.
"What?" she says after a long second of him silently staring at her.
"Can we talk?" he says, leaning on the frame of the carriage, eyeing the seven friends squashed in together.
"I don't know, can we?"
"Uh, yeah?"
Pansy lets out a snigger.
"You seemed to find it pretty hard to do that during the holidays," says Daphne, not budging from her seat.
Pike tries to run through his mind what she's getting at.
"She wanted you to write to her at least once," Pansy whispers pointedly.
"How was I supposed to know that?" Pike says.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Daphne exclaims. "My ex did a better job of getting in touch with me than you did."
Draco suppresses an amused smile as Pike snaps his head around to glare at him. He missed the relentless drama.
"Seriously, Draco? We're supposed to be mates." Pike says angrily to the amusement of the others.
"Since when were we mates?" Draco says, his lip curling. "And we didn't shag. Or am I not allowed to have female friends now?"
"You're not supposed to go behind my back like that. You didn't even ask."
"He doesn't need permisson from you to hang out with me," Daphne says. "I don't belong to you."
"That's not what I meant," Pike frowns. "Why are you both being so defensive? It's like you're covering something up."
"Like what, Pike?" she snaps. "I'm not getting it on with someone else, am I? Anyway, Draco spent the entire time at Blaise's place, not mine."
"It was only one night," Blaise points out.
Draco holds back the urge to throttle Blaise as the others give them both looks.
"Sounds like Draco's been a bit preoccupied with someone else," Millicent snickers.
"Blaise why the fuck did you say it like that?" Draco whispers furiously to them as Daphne and Pike erupt into argument. "A fucking night?"
"What?" Blaise says. "It was a night."
Draco rolls his eyes but his irritation subsides as he finds everyone's eyes fixed on Daphne and Pike.
"I don't know why I fucking bother being loyal to you when you always assume the worst of me," Daphne says, her cheeks a slight shade of pink.
"What am I supposed to think when you say you met up with your ex in the holidays and not me?"
"Um, I don't know Pike, that we were hanging out? Because we're friends?"
"People aren't 'friends' with their exes."
"What the fuck is this then?" Daphne says gesturing to her and Draco.
"You tell me."
"I've told you, you fucking retard. What don't you get about 'we are friends'?"
"If I may interject on this lovely debate," Blaise says as Pike falters to respond, the tension in the carrige as thick as fog. "Me and Pansy and Crabbe were there too. I was with Draco the entire time and I left with him and nothing happened between him and Daphne."
Draco opens up his hands as if to say I told you so. "See, mate," he says, spiting the 'mate'. "Get your head out of your arse."
"Nah, I'm not happy with this," Pike says.
"Go cry about it," Daphne says, looking him in the eye defiantly.
Pike gives them both one last glare, then slams the carriage door shut in defeat.
"God, what's his problem?" Millicent says.
Pansy smirks. "He's on his period."
"Why didn't you just send him a letter first though?" Blaise asks as they snigger. Her question is met with deathly looks from the girls.
"That's not how it works."
"Women are so bloody complicated," Crabbe mutters.
"Crabbe, I could stamp on your head right now so think before you speak," Daphne threatens.
From all the relationship talk, Draco's mind automatically jumps to Ron. He replays the moment on the platform about half an hour ago when they made eye contact for a split second before being dragged away with the crowd. All the love was reignited in that moment alone. Draco's heart skips just thinking about it.
He settles down, relaxing into the robotic chuntering of the train. His body stays rigid, but the closer they get to Hogwarts, the more he starts to believe that Slughorn will pretend nothing ever happened and he will return to being his teacher.
It's more of a need than a hope. Slughorn has never stopped wearing him down. The days faded into weeks which melted into months and before he knew it, eight and a half months have passed since Slughorn first kissed him in January.
He doesn't know if he can endure much more, not after the taste of freedom during the holidays.
Nothing lasts forever; Slughorn has to stop sooner or later.
Ron gets off the train onto the equally busy platform and follows the crowd gathering towards the coaches leading to Hogwarts. It'll be good to be back, they think, zoning out the excessive noise from the platform. Routine is good, he likes routine, and the holidays certainly had no semblance of routine.
By the time everyone is unpacked, it's almost dinner time.
"These new dorms are well nice," Ron says, wrapping a hand around a polished oak bedpost.
"Yeah, a bit of privacy," says Dean, gazing at the curtains able to be drawn around each four-poster bed.
"I feel all grand now we're the oldest in the school," Neville says, coming over to them.
"Ready for adulthood guys?" calls Seamus from the bathroom.
"Rearing to go," Dean says. "Marriage, three kids, a mortage, taxes, can't bloody wait."
The dinner bell rings and the five make their way down to the Great Hall to experience their first meal as seventh, and last, years. Ron can't bite their smile away as they tuck into their bow of stew, sitting practically back to back with Draco.
Draco feels a similar spark, withholding his usual sour scowl as he makes a special effort to chat with Crabbe and Goyle.
On the way out, he makes sure to accidentally bump into Ron's arm as a gentle reminder of the coming evening. Ron can barely contain their excitement as they bound back up to the Common room.
He doesn't take an eye off the clock until it reaches 10 pm. When the rest head up to the dormitory a few minutes later, Ron slips out and across the school to Draco's bedroom.
Draco bounds to the door at the sound of three knocks just gone quarter past ten.
"Draco!" Ron catapults into his arms, spinning them both around. Draco wraps his arms around them as tight as possible.
"You have no idea how much I've missed you," Draco says, breathing into the familiar soft fabric of Ron's jumper.
"I've missed you too," Ron says.
Once they pull away, Draco takes the sides of Ron's face in his hands.
"Ron," Draco murmurs, falling deep into their brown eyes.
"Mm?" Ron heats up under Draco's touch, realising how much they've missed the rush of panicked excitement when they're acknowledged by him.
I love you. Draco thinks, the words dying on his tongue. Way to ruin the moment. He shakes it off and focuses on the easier fact that he's missed the thrill of making them blush.
"Are we gonna kiss or are you just going to stare at me all night?" he smirks.
"I thought you were about to say something deep there," Ron snorts. "Just let me enjoy the moment."
"Fine."
"I think I've forgotten how to do it anyway," Ron says, not taking his eyes off Draco's.
"How to do what?"
"Kiss."
"I'd say now is the perfect opportunity, or were you saving yourself to practice on Hermione?"
"Piss o-" Before Ron can finish the word, Draco covers their mouth with his hand.
"Can I kiss you?" he mutters, to which Ron feels everything melt away and they nod.
Draco removes his hand and pushes his lips onto theirs. Ron breathes out a sigh and wraps their hands around Draco's shoulders, pulling him closer.
"You okay?" Draco asks about ten seconds later.
"Nah, I'm already out of breath," Ron pants.
"Jesus Christ," he laughs at them, having gone red in the face. "You've gone purple."
"I told you so," Ron says. "I didn't come prepared."
"We could sit down like normal people and talk about our holidays," Draco suggests. "So I don't end up choking you to death."
Ron doesn't move their arms from around Draco's body. "Not choking to death sounds boring."
"Ok, but if you die, I'm not taking any responsibility," Draco grins tauntingly.
Their lips push into each other again, this time Draco driving Ron's back to the wall, cushioning their head with his hand as they passionately make out. Draco doesn't pull away for a single second, and Ron keeps kissing him back, letting their tongues twist around each other.
"You better not give me any bloody hickeys," Ron breathes as Draco softly kisses down their neck.
"You can give me all the hickeys in the world," says Draco, standing back up straight so he's face to face with Ron.
"I'm not biting your neck."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not a vampire," says Ron.
"Oh, come on," Draco grins. "Imagine the faces of the other Slytherin pricks if I showed up with a black and blue neck tomorrow."
"Really?" Ron says sceptically. "You'd be down?"
"Yeah, I'm totally down," says Draco.
"Maybe find someone a bit paler for that one," Ron says. "And with less of a reflection. Can I be released now or what?" he asks, referring to still being pressed up against the wall.
"I don't know, have you been good?"
Ron lets out a burst of laughter as Draco dissolves into giggles.
"I'm never saying that again," Draco snorts. "Sorry."
"I thought you were being serious for a second."
Draco takes his body pressure off Ron and takes their hand, guiding them over to the sofa. "Didn't mean to crush you."
"I've missed this sofa," says Ron, nestling into the worn crimson settee. They rest their head on Draco's shoulder.
"Yeah, I was scared they'd kick me out of this room," Draco says. "But no one's brought it up and this room isn't used for anything anyway, so I thought might as well keep it."
"I'm glad, I'd be so upset if we lost this place." Ron glances up at him. "I'm sorry."
"Why?" He shoots them a suspicious look.
"It's so embarrassing that I forgot how to breathe."
Draco cackles at Ron's serious expression, earning him a hard prod.
"It wasn't embarrassing," he laughs. "It was fucking funny."
"I almost died, how's that funny?"
Draco wheezes, wiping tears out of his eyes. "Why do you look so sad? That's so funny, oh my God."
"You're such a prick," says Ron, trying not to laugh with him.
"Come on," Draco says. "You can't tell me that's not even a bit funny. You were literally turning purple." The memory makes him double over with a new wave of laughter. "You looked like a plum-" he manages to gasp out.
Ron crosses their arms.
"Aw Ron," Draco says, barely back further tears he grabs Ron back into his arms. "Cheer up, we'll have to practice more."
Ron releases a smile, unable to pretend to be mad whilst Draco is hugging them.
"Yeah," they say. "Now if you've finished."
He nods, a stupid grin still plastered on his face.
"Tell me about your holidays."
Draco launches into a monologue about how the holidays have been quite possibly the dullest six weeks of his life and how he spoke about ten words a day and spent most of his time in a hut in the middle of a forest.
In retaliation, Ron explains how all they wanted was some peace and routine but instead he got a constant stream of noise and pranks and spontaneous trips to visit distant family members.
"We should swap with each other for a week and see which one we prefer," Ron says.
"I reckon you'd get bored so quickly," says Draco. "You're so used to human interaction that you'd start going into, like, social comedown."
"At least I'd get to hear myself think for once," they say. "And don't act like you wouldn't hate being around people all the time."
"Oh, I'd hate it," Draco nods. "Absolutely. I'd end up ruining all my relationships because I get pissy when people talk to me too much. I just don't have the energy for it."
"Fair enough."
"What's that stupid smile for?" Ron asks sceptically.
"You're going to love this," Draco says, getting up and going over to his bookcase. With a flourish, he takes the chessboard and bag with pieces in.
"You're joking," Ron groans. "Chess, really? Haven't you got sick of it by now?"
Draco sets the board on the low table between the sofa and fireplace. "On the contrary," he says. "I've been playing against myself all summer."
"How does that work? Don't you know what the other side is going to play?"
"Kind of," says Draco, carefully placing the pieces in their correct spots. "It works, just not as good as playing against real people."
"We aren't playing a game, are we?" Ron says with a pained expression. "It's so late."
"I can show you a new opening I learnt if you'd prefer."
"Yeah, sure."
"Okay," Draco says, entering concentration mode. Ron smiles at seeing him start to focus, watching the adorable way his eyebrows knit together and purses his lips.
"It's called the London opening," Draco says, glancing up to make sure they're paying attention. "First move: pawn to C3."
On Ron's fourth yawn, Draco gathers that they probably don't want to listen to any more openings he learnt during the holidays.
"That's it for tonight," he says.
"Thank God," Ron sighs. "I'm kidding," he says after Draco gives them a look. "It was very informative, thank you. I'll be using some of those next time we play."
"Aha, so we will be playing next time," Draco grins, putting the pieces back in the bag.
"You'll rope me into it whatever I say," says Ron. "I might as well just go along with it at this point."
"We don't have to," Draco says as he slots the chessboard back.
"No, I enjoy it," Ron assures him. "You're so into it, it's cute."
"That's sorted then. Chess club, Tuesdays and Fridays."
"Don't push it."
Draco laughs at their resigned look.
"I should probably get going," Ron says, catching a glimpse of the time. "I'll get into trouble if I'm wandering around at all hours."
"It's not even midnight yet," says Draco. "And it's not like there's staff patrolling the corridors."
"No, I'll fall asleep if I stay any longer," Ron says. "The train journey took me out. I'm surprised I've managed for this long to be honest."
"Alright." Draco gets back up, exchanging a hug with Ron at the door.
"Is that a new piercing?" Ron asks, only now noticing the new silver hoop at the top of Draco's left ear.
"Yeah, Blaise did it a few weeks ago."
"Can I touch it?"
Ron runs their fingers up Draco's earlobe and across the various spiky and circular metal piercings.
"Do you think I've overdone it?" says Draco.
"Oh, definitely," Ron grins, counting the new one as the fifth small metal hoop on his left ear, along with two studs on his ear lobe.
"Cunt."
Draco pulls Ron forward by the hands around the back of their neck and into a short but intense kiss.
"I'm thinking about getting a tongue piercing, actually," he says.
"Please don't, I don't want to taste what you've been eating."
Draco laughs at their queasy expression.
"I'll see you Friday then?"
"Yes, Friday," smiles Ron. "About ten again."
They share one last kiss goodnight, then Ron makes his way to the dormitory as Draco settles into bed. He touches along his ear, smiling into the darkness as he imagines Ron running their fingers over it, staring deeply into each other's eyes.
The last lesson of the first school day is potions. Draco has been sitting at his desk sandwiched between Blaise and Millicent, clenching his stomach so tightly that he's given himself cramps. His eyes flicker to the ancient grandfather clock in the furthest corner. Only four minutes to go.
The sound of Slughorn's smooth voice, the reminder of his hagged face, the way he adjusts his glasses when he's thinking, it repulses Draco. His presence alone is enough to trigger some sort of claustrophobia, a feeling that he needs to get out.
"What did you get for the last question?" Millicent whispers.
"I haven't done it," Draco replies. He stares down at a blank piece of paper. He hasn't put effort into a potions lesson since January and he doesn't plan on starting now. Pressure pushes down on the top of his head and he bites his lip until he tastes blood.
"You alright?" Millicent asks, noticing how pale he is.
"Yeah," he says, shifting his hands under the desk to hide the slight trembling in his hands.
The bell rings. The moment Draco has been dreading for weeks and weeks is finally here. He packs up his stuff. Everyone starts filing out.
"Did you want something, Malfoy?" Slughorn says coolly, as if he's confused as to why Draco is still sitting there whilst everyone else leaves.
Draco doesn't know how to reply to this. It certainly wasn't the response he was expecting- for months and months he's grown so accustomed to waiting after class that it grew into some sort of sick and twisted routine. Now Slughorn is acting like Draco means as much to him as the next student? It almost feels like an insult.
"Did you want something?" Slughorn repeats when Draco silently sits there, stunned.
"Uh, no," Draco swallows, getting up. This has to be a trick, or a test. Maybe he'll reach the door and find it locked, and Slughorn will turn on him for being disobedient.
He walks to the door and tries the handle: it's open. He turns and makes eye contact with Slughorn for half a second, searching for any answers, the motivation behind this act of mercy.
Slughorn just looks away; a dismissal.
It doesn't feel like a stroke of luck, or liberation, or a victory, but surely this has to mean something. It's not like he feels free, but maybe Slughorn has no plans to continue with his tight control on him like before the holidays. It certainly seemed like that, dropping eye contact with him like he was afraid to face the truth.
It's nothing like the Slughorn he's grown to know. He wonders what has changed.
Draco goes up to the Slytherin Common room with a massive weight lifted off his shoulders, half-convinced that Slughorn is going to stop bothering him completely. He enters the room, the bright lights and loud music and laughter soothing his nerves. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and sees a tiny smile on his face.
Fuck it. He feels free.