Rated: PG-13, still not slash.
Author's Note: See previous chapter for warnings and Disclaimer.
------------------
Ron's mouth dropped open and he stared openly at the Slytherin getting his carpet soaking wet.
"That's no way to greet a guest, Weasley." Draco smirked. "Oh wait, you can't afford manners; can you?"
He stood, rolled his shoulders and looked around Ron's room. "So. this where you sleep?" Draco was obviously taking this much better than Ron was, probably because Draco had made the conscience decision to be the unwanted guest, not the unhappy host.
Ron's ears turned red, he clenched his fists. "Malfoy, I'm only going to say this once: why are you in my room?"
Draco turned a stunning smile on him; Ron thought he would pass out from the voltage. "You let me in, remember?" He went back to inspecting Ron's room, scratching Pig on the head; he picked up a few of his Martin the Muggle comics. If it was possible, Ron's ears got even redder.
"I'm going to give you to the count of ten, and then," he said slowly, "you're going to either explain, or leave."
"Look Weasley, I don't see why it's such a big deal that I'm here. Potter comes here all the time."
Ron thought he might have seen the hint leer. "You are not Harry," he said.
"That, I think, is evident," said Draco.
"Arggggghhhhhh!!" Ron dropped his face into his hands. "How can I make this simple for you? Don't you find it a little strange that you've just shown up at my home, and for no apparent reason except for bothering me?"
Draco shrugged. "No," he said simply.
"Okay," Ron tried again. "Imagine you're having tea with your Mum and Dad in the living room, or whatever you rich people have…."
"Parlor," Draco interrupted.
"Whatever," Ron ignored him. "So you're sitting there having a nice tea when out of no where a gaggle of Death Eaters come waltzing in and demands have tea with you." He looked at Draco expectantly, waiting for realization to dawn. It didn't, the boy just looked confused.
"I don't get it," Draco said.
"No. You wouldn't," Ron said hurriedly, brain conjuring a sudden image of Draco serving tea to a room of cowl headed men. "How about this, you're having tea…."
"What kind of tea?" Draco asked.
Ron curled his lip, "Does it matter?" He asked.
"Yes, it'll help me to get a proper image in my head," Draco sat down on the floor.
"Okay. Fine. You're drinking English breakfast. Now anyway, you're all…." He tried to continue.
"I only drink Prince of Whales," Draco said lazily from the floor; he was taking off his boots.
"Can I just finish?"
"Who's stopping you? You're on a role here Weasley." Draco gave him a saccharine sweet smile.
Ron rolled his eyes. "So. You're drinking Prince of Whales tea in the parlor with your parents when suddenly a herd of muggles comes traipsing into the room and idemands/i to have tea with you," he paused for effect. "They don't even ask nicely," he added vehemently.
Draco looked horrified. "I still don't understand what I have to do with Muggles that what tea."
Ron shrugged. "It was shitty example." He looked over at Draco, who had since removed his traveling cloak and was now finger combing his wind mussed blond hair. It looked an awful lot like Draco was planning to stay awhile, or until Ron killed him. He sighed and said, "Look, just why are you here, and how can I get rid of you?"
Draco pursed his lips and said simply, "My father's a madman."
Ron balked. "What?" He said quirking one bright red eyebrow.
Draco shrugged, "He's mad. I decided I needed to get away, you know, just fly off and such." He looked up and Ron and sneered, "Now, sod off will you? I'm on holiday."
Ron was flabbergasted. "Yeah, you're on holiday in my bedroom you great git," he said angrily. "Humph!" And crossing his arms, Ron sat down on the edge of the bed. Draco was lazily inspecting his room now, running his hands over the Chudley Cannons posters that wallpapered the place; and Ron felt vaguely self-conscious.
"They're my team too, you know," Draco said softly, staring at the poster of the Cannons seeker Ron had plastered above his dresser.
Ron's nose wrinkled up a bit, picturing Draco flying happily through the air as the Cannons new seeker. "What?" He asked.
Draco answered, "I said, they're my team as well." He poked the seeker with his index finger and the poster waved at him. And winked. Draco didn't blush.
Ron swallowed down what might have been an exceptionally cruel comment, the world may never know.
To be continued...
::the bunnies whisper:: FEEDBACK! FEEDBACK!...
Okay, perhaps they're not whispering.
Author's Note: See previous chapter for warnings and Disclaimer.
------------------
Ron's mouth dropped open and he stared openly at the Slytherin getting his carpet soaking wet.
"That's no way to greet a guest, Weasley." Draco smirked. "Oh wait, you can't afford manners; can you?"
He stood, rolled his shoulders and looked around Ron's room. "So. this where you sleep?" Draco was obviously taking this much better than Ron was, probably because Draco had made the conscience decision to be the unwanted guest, not the unhappy host.
Ron's ears turned red, he clenched his fists. "Malfoy, I'm only going to say this once: why are you in my room?"
Draco turned a stunning smile on him; Ron thought he would pass out from the voltage. "You let me in, remember?" He went back to inspecting Ron's room, scratching Pig on the head; he picked up a few of his Martin the Muggle comics. If it was possible, Ron's ears got even redder.
"I'm going to give you to the count of ten, and then," he said slowly, "you're going to either explain, or leave."
"Look Weasley, I don't see why it's such a big deal that I'm here. Potter comes here all the time."
Ron thought he might have seen the hint leer. "You are not Harry," he said.
"That, I think, is evident," said Draco.
"Arggggghhhhhh!!" Ron dropped his face into his hands. "How can I make this simple for you? Don't you find it a little strange that you've just shown up at my home, and for no apparent reason except for bothering me?"
Draco shrugged. "No," he said simply.
"Okay," Ron tried again. "Imagine you're having tea with your Mum and Dad in the living room, or whatever you rich people have…."
"Parlor," Draco interrupted.
"Whatever," Ron ignored him. "So you're sitting there having a nice tea when out of no where a gaggle of Death Eaters come waltzing in and demands have tea with you." He looked at Draco expectantly, waiting for realization to dawn. It didn't, the boy just looked confused.
"I don't get it," Draco said.
"No. You wouldn't," Ron said hurriedly, brain conjuring a sudden image of Draco serving tea to a room of cowl headed men. "How about this, you're having tea…."
"What kind of tea?" Draco asked.
Ron curled his lip, "Does it matter?" He asked.
"Yes, it'll help me to get a proper image in my head," Draco sat down on the floor.
"Okay. Fine. You're drinking English breakfast. Now anyway, you're all…." He tried to continue.
"I only drink Prince of Whales," Draco said lazily from the floor; he was taking off his boots.
"Can I just finish?"
"Who's stopping you? You're on a role here Weasley." Draco gave him a saccharine sweet smile.
Ron rolled his eyes. "So. You're drinking Prince of Whales tea in the parlor with your parents when suddenly a herd of muggles comes traipsing into the room and idemands/i to have tea with you," he paused for effect. "They don't even ask nicely," he added vehemently.
Draco looked horrified. "I still don't understand what I have to do with Muggles that what tea."
Ron shrugged. "It was shitty example." He looked over at Draco, who had since removed his traveling cloak and was now finger combing his wind mussed blond hair. It looked an awful lot like Draco was planning to stay awhile, or until Ron killed him. He sighed and said, "Look, just why are you here, and how can I get rid of you?"
Draco pursed his lips and said simply, "My father's a madman."
Ron balked. "What?" He said quirking one bright red eyebrow.
Draco shrugged, "He's mad. I decided I needed to get away, you know, just fly off and such." He looked up and Ron and sneered, "Now, sod off will you? I'm on holiday."
Ron was flabbergasted. "Yeah, you're on holiday in my bedroom you great git," he said angrily. "Humph!" And crossing his arms, Ron sat down on the edge of the bed. Draco was lazily inspecting his room now, running his hands over the Chudley Cannons posters that wallpapered the place; and Ron felt vaguely self-conscious.
"They're my team too, you know," Draco said softly, staring at the poster of the Cannons seeker Ron had plastered above his dresser.
Ron's nose wrinkled up a bit, picturing Draco flying happily through the air as the Cannons new seeker. "What?" He asked.
Draco answered, "I said, they're my team as well." He poked the seeker with his index finger and the poster waved at him. And winked. Draco didn't blush.
Ron swallowed down what might have been an exceptionally cruel comment, the world may never know.
To be continued...
::the bunnies whisper:: FEEDBACK! FEEDBACK!...
Okay, perhaps they're not whispering.