Penname: Page of Cups
E-mail: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com
Title: Everything Changes
Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy
Rating: R
Summary: Wherein Draco is pulling the strings, and they've both got detention.
Disclaimers and warnings in previous chapters. If you don't yet know this is slash, and that Draco is having impure thoughts about a certain Weasley that isn't Ginny, it's your own fault. Stop skipping ahead to chapter four!
Thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed. Also, thank you to everyone who gave me links. I have now come to the conclusion that there is not enough Ron/Draco out there in this world, so I'm happy to announce that I'm starting to plan a another series for this pairing. Not a sequel, but a story completely separate on its own.
Chapter Four: Detention
Rolling over in bed, Ron cracked open an eye to stare at his heavy, scarlet draperies surrounding his four poster bed. Groaning loudly, Ron shut his eyes again and tried to shut out the sound of the other seventh year boys waking and dressing. His attempts didn't go well as Seamus, who had obviously heard the groan, ripped back his curtains, and gave Ron a big, bright smile. It was the smile of a person who shouldn't be so chipper at this time of the morning.
"From that moan, I thought you were getting laid in there," said Seamus.
"It's Saturday. No class."
Ron closed his eyes again, but Seamus pulled him out of bed, and Ron found himself leaning against the wall. His eyes ached, his legs ached, and he wanted to go back to sleep. Now that he was out of bed and standing, however, he knew that all hope was lost. He could never be able to get comfortable enough again and after glaring at Seamus, Ron wandered out of the dormitory and in the direction of the Gryffindor boys' showers.
"Morning, mate," said Harry, all but skipping up the stairs and rubbing a towel over his messy black hair. Ron grunted something unintelligible. "Just got my shower. I'll wait for you and we can go down to breakfast together. Hermione's already waiting for me in the common room so hurry if you can."
Nodding, Ron's eyes turned to slits as he tried to block out the sunshine threatening his eyes without relent. Making his way into the showers, Ron slammed the door behind him, locked it, and began to disrobe. He didn't even bother lighting the room, and he closed the curtains to leave the room in a dim, pale light. Turning on the water, Ron's head connected with the wall beside the entrance. He leaned his forehead against the wall and extended his right hand into the spray, waiting for it to get to the perfect temperature.
After his shower, Ron skipped his pajamas and headed back to the dormitory in only his towel. It seemed like a good idea at the time but he was getting sick of the catcalls he received, most of them from Seamus, as he made his way back to the dormitory. Walking in, the door slammed shut behind him and Neville, the only other person in the room, stared at Ron, completely horrified, as he walked over to his bed. Beads of water were still scattered across his chest, back, and arms, making his freckles look three dimensional in a strange, freakish way.
"Eh - good morning, Ron," said Neville, turning pink and quickly tying on his cloak.
"Morning, Neville," said Ron, wearily.
Neville left out a small yelp before darting from the room and refusing to look back. Ron chuckled to himself as he dried off and changed into a worn pair of jeans with a hole in the knee and scorch marks around the left cuff (they had previously belonged to Charlie). After discovering his only jumper options laid in the typically unworn and should be patented maroon Weasley jumper, Ron pulled on his Christmas present from last year. The sleeves were a tad bit too short and he sighed, barely glancing at himself in the mirror before heading down to the common room. Ron liked to avoid his appearance at all costs.
"Hey, Ron," said Harry as he came into the common room. "Seamus told us you were walking around Gryffindor tower naked. Hermione was disappointed she missed it."
Ron stared at Harry with big eyes, and Hermione elbowed Harry in the ribs.
"I did not, Harry!" she screeched. Her cheeks had gone bright pink, and she glared at him before turning around, heading out of the portrait hole.
"Why do you say things like that, Harry?" asked Ron, miserably.
"I was kidding! Merlin, everyone is getting uptight. Neville came down here all flustered and I asked him if he had run into your naked arse running around up there. He wouldn't even speak to me before racing out of the common room."
"I wasn't running around naked," said Ron, as they left the common room and headed in the direction of the Great Hall. "I left my robes in the dorm and instead of putting my pajamas back on I decided to go up to the dorm in my towel. That's all. Besides, it isn't like I've got anything to hide. We change in front of each other all the time."
"How low was it?"
"What?"
"How low was your towel? If it was really low, then you practically were naked."
"I don't know. It was a towel!"
"Don't get defensive, Ron. I'm just trying to cheer you up. You've been in a right state since we started term."
"A lot happened last year, Harry. It should be expected."
"I don't like seeing you like this."
"You had your turn to mope in fifth year. This is my turn."
"Fair enough," Harry agreed as they entered the Great Hall. Seamus was telling half the Gryffindor table who had already gone to breakfast about Ron wandering around in his towel and now every time one of the younger girls looked at him, they'd turn a bright shade of pink and avoid his eyes, sneaking peeks at him when they thought he wasn't looking.
Across the Hall, Ron caught Malfoy staring at him and Ron sent a scowl right back at him. Ever since their hostile departure from Potions on Monday, Ron had decided that Malfoy was truly evil. The Potions class they had on the following Thursday only infuriated him more. Ron was still having delusions about Malfoy touching him in ways that were too intimate to be casual, like subtle touches of long-time lovers. If Malfoy was evil, why was Ron still having these thoughts? Chastising himself for being a bloody pervert, Ron snatched a piece of toast from the table and started to mutilate it.
"Ron," said Harry, gently, prying the toasted bread from Ron's fingers. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he said, tersely.
Ron hated himself. He wished he could scream out that of course he wasn't okay. People who were okay didn't mutilate their breakfast foods without any sort of explanation. People who were okay didn't think people like Malfoy were touching them in intimate gestures. This brought him back to his original problem. Didn't everything just always come back to sodding Malfoy? Dropping his head in his hands, Ron's eyes followed the grain of the Gryffindor Table, thinking of Malfoy and their Potions classes. Did Ron even want for Malfoy to be touching him in intimate gestures? That really should have been a stupid and unnecessary question, not even worth taking the time to answer. However, he wasn't sure how to answer it.
"Ron, were you listening to what I said?" said Hermione, waving a hand before his face.
"What? I'm sorry, Hermione. I wasn't listening. What did you say?"
Her expression softened. "Are you sure you're okay, Ron? If there's something wrong, you should tell us."
"Just thinking about the holiday," he lied, forcing a smile. Hermione looked unconvinced but accepted his answer. Harry was clueless, eating like a starving man.
"As I was saying, I'm going to the library after breakfast to start that essay for Professor Binns on the ministry. If anyone wants to go with me -"
"That's okay, Hermione," said Ron. "We've got three weeks to do it. I'll get to it later."
She looked disapproving, but gave him a curt nod. Despite how badly she disliked Ron's and Harry's study habits, she had long ago given up on trying to get them to do their assignments before they were due, much less in full. The offers always stood but they always rejected and Hermione would smile and accept it. Ron figured it was good of her to realize it before she wore herself completely out making timetables for each of them for studying.
"Harry?" said Hermione.
"I've got Quidditch practice. Ron, you coming down to watch?"
Ron was about to nod when Draco's words came into his mind and he hated Malfoy once again for worming his way into his head. Even though Ron loathed Malfoy with every part of his body, he still couldn't help but concur with some of his sentiments. He should have something better to do by now than to go watch Harry's Quidditch practices. There had always been the option of being on the team but Ron was sick of Quidditch thanks to Harry's obsession and he didn't reckon he would like the idea of being in Harry's shadow for something else . . . again.
"I think I'm just going to go back to the dorm."
"But you always come to my practice on Saturday."
"Well today I'm not so in future reference you can say I usually come to your practice on Saturday."
"Ron -"
"I don't appreciate the generalization, Harry. I'm going back to the dorm. I don't always have to be at your practice. I'm sure you'll get through it without me there. You get through everything else without me anyway."
Without having taken a single bite of anything, Ron stood up from his seat and strode out of the Great Hall, ignoring Harry's and Hermione's calls wafting after him. Right now, all he wanted was to be alone. He wanted a moment without Hermione talking about grades and homework assignments, without Harry talking about Quidditch or Cho. Picking up pace, Ron turned off into a corridor and was walking down it when he heard footsteps behind him and then there was Draco Malfoy, standing beside him and smirking like the cocky bugger he was.
"Not going to Potter's practice I hear."
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"Nothing at all, Weasley. Nice jumper, by the way. I suppose its sets your family back months to afford the yarn to make those things. Rather small, though, don't you think?" said Malfoy, actually having the audacity to tug on the cuff of Ron's sleeve.
"Go away, Malfoy."
"You don't want my company? I thought you'd want someone around as you have no friends other than Potty and that mudblood, Granger; and -" here Draco paused to scoff, "you just blew them off. I wouldn't be surprised if they wanted nothing to do with you for some time."
"Where are your friends? Off learning how to spell, I suppose."
"It's possible," agreed Draco, causing Ron to scowl.
"Are you stalking me?"
"Why would I stalk someone like you?"
"I don't know. You tell me. Every time I turn around, there you are. It's like you never go away."
"Honestly, why would you even want me to?"
"Because you're an arrogant, selfish, vain little fucker who makes my insides twist to the point where I want to vomit."
"I'm flattered, Weasley. As much as I appreciate the compliment, however, I think that perhaps you should monitor your language. What would that dear mother of yours say if she heard you speak like that?"
"Probably make me clean without magic," said Ron. "My dad, however, would be very proud."
"Your father is a disgrace to the wizarding community. Between his Muggle Protection Act and his fascination with muggles . . . It mustn't take much to make a man like that proud."
"Why don't you just leave my family alone, Malfoy?"
"Because they're such a joke." Malfoy's voice broke off into laughter.
Ron stopped in his tracks to stare at Malfoy. No matter what had happened, he still loved them all, even Percy despite the betrayal. Whenever he had a nightmare of what happened to Ginny or of losing one of his friends to Voldemort, his mum was always there. Ron supposed Malfoy didn't know anything like that. Still, his tolerance was growing thin. So much had happened to his family and they had worked so hard to not fall apart that Ron couldn't stand to hear Malfoy degrade them.
"Take that back," said Ron, softly.
"What?"
"Take that back. What you said about my family. Take it back."
"No," said Malfoy, scowling.
"My family is worth more than yours will ever be," he seethed. "If anyone has a joke for a family, it's you. A Death Eater for a father and a drug addict for a mother. Holidays must be nothing short of wonderful at your home."
"What did you say about my mother?" said Draco, his eyes narrowing.
"Everyone knows your mother is a drug addict," said Ron. "Ministry busted her over the summer. You aren't the only one who gets the Daily Prophet."
"Leave my mother out of this, Weasley. You don't know anything about her or the rest of my family. This is between you and me."
"What? You can insult my family but I can't insult yours?"
"At least my family is respected. Your family is ignored. And just think, Weasley, you're family is a joke and you're the biggest joke of all. You've never shone as bright as all those brothers you've got. You're neglected in a family that is entirely overlooked. It must be special to be you."
Forgetting his wand, Ron launched himself at Draco. He wanted to close his hands around Malfoy's neck, break the thing right in half. He wanted Malfoy struggling to breathe, regretting every word that had just escaped his mouth, but Professor McGonagall got there first. It hadn't been until after she tore them apart, gave them each detention for that evening, and took fifty points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor that Ron realized they had been fighting right outside of her office.
Sitting in a chair in the common room, Ron looked up upon Hermione and Harry's entrance. They took one look at him before their smiles fell and they were on either side of him, asking what had happened and what was wrong.
"He said what?" said Harry after Ron explained what had driven him to pounce the way he did.
"You really should just learn to ignore him," said Hermione. "That's the third time this year you've gotten into a big row with Malfoy. You're going to get expelled if you keep it up."
"I can't help it, Hermione. I can't take what he says about my family. Not after everything that has happened in the last two years. I couldn't forget it before."
"What Malfoy said was foul," said Harry. "I just wish you'd have gotten more hits in before McGonagall showed up."
"Me too," said Ron, resting his chin on the heel of his palm.
He had been angry, furious even. Malfoy always had a way of crawling under his skin and getting to him. Something about today had been askew, however. The malice wasn't there and Ron could feel himself experiencing something like embarrassment. By no means was Malfoy a big person. He was about a head shorter than Ron, who was actually quite tall for his age. Malfoy's body was fit, masculine, and he could probably best a few of the seventh year boys but Ron was stronger. He had attacked someone weaker than he and it made him feel humiliated. Ron also got the distinct impression that Malfoy had said a good deal of the words that left his mouth only because he wanted Ron to get angry.
Sighing, Ron leaned his head back and vaguely listened to Hermione and Harry argue over Ron's actions. This thing with Malfoy was already too complicated and he feared it was only going to get worse.
~*~
"Where are you going?" asked Pansy as Draco stood to leave.
"I have detention with McGonagall tonight. Cleaning trophies without magic or some rot like that."
"How did you get detention?" asked Moira Nott, a friend of Pansy's.
"Got in a fight with Ron Weasley."
"Who's Ron Weasley?" asked Moira. Draco stared at her. "What?"
"How do you not know who Ron Weasley is? He's been in our Potions class since first year!"
"He's friends with Potter and Granger," explained Pansy.
"Who's Granger?"
"That ugly mudblood girl with the bad hair."
"Oh, right. That girl Witch Weekly called pretty. Who's Ron Weasley, then?"
"You have to know the Weasleys," said Draco. "He's Potter's friend."
"Is he that poor, red-headed kid?"
Draco scowled at her. "Yes."
"Okay, then. I know who you mean. Why did you fight with him?"
"I was insulting his family and he attacked me."
"You poor dear," cooed Pansy and Draco tried to keep his eyes from involuntarily rolling on their own. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," he drawled before stalking out of the Slytherin common room, throughly pissed someone had dared to ask who Ron Weasley was.
Wandering through the corridors, Draco found himself just outside McGonagall's office and he knocked before entering. Weasley had already arrived and looked just as angry about having this detention as Draco was pleased. Weasley turned around to glance at him as he entered and Draco frowned upon seeing the shamed expression that came across those gorgeous features. Highly aware of the faint bruise on his neck from where Ron had attacked him, Draco casually covered it with his palm and looked to his professor.
"Follow me, Mister Malfoy, Mister Weasley," commanded Professor McGonagall. Weasley and Draco stood to follow her and they found themselves outside the Trophy Room.
"You have two hours," said Professor McGonagall, "to clean every single trophy. No fighting. If you do not finish within your time limit, you'll finish under my supervision and will be issued another detention. This is going to continue until you've learned to work together. You are both seventh years and I am certain you do not want to be expelled for fighting at such a crucial point in your schooling."
Opening the door, she ushered them up and closed the door behind her upon leaving.
"I can't believe this," muttered Weasley, looking down at the cleaning supplied. "Like I haven't had enough of cleaning this room."
"Slugs, right?" said Draco, smirking. "Wasn't that after you tried to hex me with that pathetic wand of yours -"
"Leave my wand out of it, Malfoy. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to so just shut up so we can get this done with."
Staring at Weasley with something akin to respect, Draco grimaced and grabbed the polish, about to clean. They worked in silence for an hour and a half, scrubbing. No matter what he did, Draco couldn't get it out of his mind that Weasley was only a short distance away and they would be alone. He had felt himself getting hard a long time ago, but now it was impossible to ignore. Turning and leaning against the wall, Draco watched Weasley work, and he wished more than anything that his hands didn't smell so potently of polish.
"Don't you ever get sick of it, Weasel?"
Ron jumped at hearing Draco's voice and turned around to look at him.
"Get sick of what?"
"Blending in. Being forgotten and ignored."
"I thought we agreed not to fight."
"I'm not fighting. I honestly want to know. Don't you ever get sick of blending in?"
"Of course I do," said Ron, quickly, returning to his polishing.
"I just can't imagine what it must be like," continued Draco. "No one ever notices you. Before coming here, I told the other Slytherins I had detention with you and one of them actually had the gall to ask who you were. I don't understand it."
"What are you rambling about, Malfoy?"
"How do you just keep going on? How do you just keep faithfully following Potter around even though you know people are always going to look past you to see him? How does it feel to know that no one notices you?"
"I don't want to fight with you."
"I'm not fighting. I don't understand what that's like, Weasley. Don't you understand? I'm an only child. All of the attention and pressure is on me. If I screw up, there's no one to fall back on. What's it like to not have that pressure?"
His hands still, Ron turned to really stared at Draco. "I don't know. I only know what it feels like to be insignificant."
"You aren't insignificant," said Draco, snorting. "Just because people don't notice you doesn't mean you're insignificant."
"Yes, it does," said Ron, nodding. "It's the same thing."
"No. It's really not."
Before Ron could comprehend what was happening, Draco had pressed the heels of his hands into Ron's hipbone and pushed him against the wall. Flinching, Ron was waiting for the impact, and his eyes flew open upon feeling Draco's lips covering his own. He could feel himself responding, first hesitant and then with a bit more confidence until the full realization of what was going on hit him, and Ron shoved Draco away from him.
"What the fuck, Malfoy! What are you doing?"
Draco gave a short laugh and placed his thumb and index finger on either side of Ron's chin to tilt his head down.
"Noticing you."
Licking his lips, Ron stared down at Draco and his eyelids fluttered before shutting upon feeling Malfoy's lips against him once again. Every vow he had made to keep away from Malfoy and his game of sex melted right out of his head, and he released a low moan when Draco's tongue entered his mouth. The low, throaty sounds Ron was making only encouraged Draco, making him want Ron more than ever.
Draco didn't know when Ron reversed their positions, but he soon found himself pressed against the wall, his erection painfully tight against his pants. He could feel that Ron was hard, too, as he moved against him. Ron's left hand was flat against the wall next to Draco's head and his right hand was planted firmly against Draco's chest, pinning him to the wall. Their hip bones were slammed against each other, and Draco didn't think he had ever felt so turned on before in all his life. Weasley was here, his body touching Draco's, and he, who had so often been the dominant one in his former affairs, found it a turn on to be the one being dominated.
Weasley had attached his mouth to Draco's collarbone and was in the middle of a deep suction when the sound of the door knob turning could be heard.
"Shit," muttered Ron, trying to straighten his robes and back far away from Draco.
Professor McGonagall entered, looked between the two boys, took in their disheveled appearances and flushed faces, only to sigh.
"I said no fighting in here. I can see you haven't finished. You will stay here under my supervision until you finish this job and I can promise you that you'll be reporting for another detention sometime this week. I'll owl you with the details."
Trying to hide the erection each boy had tenting his pants, they went back to cleaning, occasionally glancing at each other and thinking the same thing. This wouldn't be the last detention they were forced together.
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