GHOSTS
II
Butterflies

***

He still wasn't sure why he was doing this, if it was the red hair, the reckless grin, or the fierce devotion, the bravery, or maybe just some sort of sixth sense that told him Ron would be a good lay.
Because he didn't want -romance-.
How could he?
He was a Malfoy; Malfoys didn't fall in love with people like the Weasleys.
Malfoys didn't fall in love.

***

And those weren't butterflies.
He was -Draco-Malfoy-; he didn't -get- nervous; he certainly did not get butterflies in his stomach. If anything, he was perhaps a bit queasy at the prospect of sleeping with Ron. He was hardly a virgin, but he had never slept with another boy before, and he was perhaps a bit nervous on that account. And perhaps a bit concerned as to what would happen if his father found out.
Fuck that, he was -terrified- of what would happen if his father found out.
He laughed bitterly. If his father didn't kill him, maybe he could go live with the Weasleys.

***

Not for the first time, he was grateful for the luxuries being a rich, egotistical bastard — or at least a rich, egotistical bastard's son — afforded him.
Having a private room was one of them, and being able to boss people around was another, and having people scared to question -why- you were bringing a second-year Ravenclaw up to your room was most definitely a plus.
Upon reaching said room, said second-year Ravenclaw burst into laughter. Draco regarded him evenly, a slight smirk playing across his lips.
"What -is- so funny, Ronald?"
"Well ... it just occured to me..." he ran his fingers through his brown hair, which was quickly brightening back to its original red, "this will probably get around, and poor Davis will have to fend off questions of '-where- were you going with Draco Malfoy?' Poor boy."
Draco shrugged. "He'll deny everything, since after all he -didn't- go anywhere with me, and I'll deny everything, and soon it'll all blow over." He frowned. "And why the bloody hell are you still clothed?"
Ron, now back to normal, grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

***

It wasn't awkward at all. It was perfect, nothing had ever felt so -natural-, so -right-.
"We'll have to do this again sometime," he whispered, and Ron murmured some happy concent and curled up to Draco's chest, tired, animosity forgotten in the afterglow.
Draco played with his new lover's hair, idly wondering how someone so irritating out of bed could be so amazing in bed. Because it -had- been fabulous; he only had one regret.
Years of discipline had won out even over primal instinct, and the whole time, he hadn't made a single sound....

***

A/N: in case it wasn't obvious: yay for polyjuice potion ^_^