A/N: Ack, sorry for the wait, folks! I been busy working on other stuffs
and i had finals last week and a bit of a block... But all is well for the
moment! And this chapter is good and long and SLASHY!! Whee! Lots of
hormones racing about, hee. ^_^ I own nothing, not even myself because i'm
not yet 18 *grumble*
I don't have time or space at the moment to give each reviewer a real response-- sorry! But thanks much to Addy-Chan (who i apparently FORGOT to respond to last chapter... sorry hon!), Zahrah Radcliffe, Lucky, redroe23102, WildfireFriendship, Ken's Dark Angel, Liana Greenleaf, Izzy- Chan, eat mang0 (i know chocolate wouldn't aleviate anemia... really there's no cure for anemia if you're born with it, i think, but i figgered that it would at least revive him, and i needed some way to clue in to his E.D.), Young Padfoot, Aloh Dark, Bronz, Lothlorien, Snarlina (hi sweetie! ^_^), Linteloteiel the Elf Slut, Makota, HugeTolkeinFan (lol dun worry, it wasn't like a bitch review or anything, it just had a mocking sort of a tone.... but mebbe i was just mistaken, no? ^.^), Alynnia*McKinnon, nicole, Absinthe Sythe (Harry's got his reasons for being concerned.... you'll find out later! ^_~), and Endovu. Whoo, twenty reviews in one chapter! That's a record for me! :D
*****
Ron shifted in his seat, his foot still jiggling, food still untouched. Breakfast had started-- he checked his watch-- twenty-seven and a half minutes ago and Draco still hadn't arrived. What was taking him so long, anyhow?
"Ron..."
He jumped at the small voice and light touch on his hand. "Oh. Morning, Ginny."
"It really isn't your fault, you know."
"I... What are you talking about?"
"Harry told me, a few minutes ago. You've been looking tense all morning. He said you were talking in your sleep last night, too."
Ron shrugged one shoulder. "I just don't like seeing people get hurt." Yes. That's it. He would've been that concerned over ANYONE. Just keep telling yourself that, Ron.
Ginny smiled slightly. "I know. But... don't hurt YOURSELF over it, okay?"
Ron made a face. "I'm not!"
"You have before, though. You'd think you wouldn't be so compassionate with a temper like that, but--"
"I don't have a temper!"
Ginny covered her mouth delicately with her hand, trying not to laugh. Ron scowled and glared at her at the same time. She schooled her face back to a kind sort of solemnity. "I'm just saying that... Ron, be careful, okay? I really don't want to see you get hurt." Ron couldn't help smiling at her brown-eyed concern.
"Okay. Now where the hell's Draco?"
Ginny shrugged. "Still in the hospital wing, maybe?"
Ron didn't bother knocking. He never did. Ron was not the knocking type. He was the burst-through-the-door-in-a-rush-of-enveloping-emotions-then- blush-and-apologize-when-he-sees-someone-naked type.
"Draco, we need to-- oh." Ron blushed. Draco made a face.
"What?" he demanded grumpily. He wasn't naked-- far from it. In fact, he only had one article of clothing missing from his body. The problem was, said clothing article was his shirt.
A wide ray of early sunlight coming through window was shining on him from chin to thigh, casting both warmth and shadow over his small frame. Ron could see almost every bone on the boy's body, hips and ribs and collar bone jutting and rippling underneath his skin like sticks and pebbles thrown into a shallow river. His skin, warmed and brightened by sunlight, looked something like French Vanilla ice cream-- the expensive high- cholesterol kind. Ron wasn't sure what he should feel. Horrified by the bones and the indigo lines under Draco's eyes? Or fascinated (and aroused, though he refused to admit it) by all that skin?
"What?" he asked again, sounding more panicked than angry this time. Ron snapped back to attention, but it was snapped away from him again when Draco crossed his arms moodily over his chest and shifted his weight, unconsciously pushing his narrow hips towards the red-head. Ron suddenly had to be thankful for loose-fitting robes. 'It's okay,' he told himself reassuringly, 'this happens to straight guys all the time. Just about anything can make one pitch a tent these days.' He noticed Draco was still watching him, and decided he ought to say something, fast.
"You're really skinny," he blurted. Draco scowled and, to Ron's relief (and dismay, though, again, he refused to admit it), pulled his shirt on.
"You're not exactly winning any body-building competitions either, Weasley." Ron ignored this and watched, fascinated, as delicate hands worked nimbly over the shirt buttons.
"You didn't eat anything at dinner last night."
Draco made a face. "So? I don't like that stuff."
"You didn't eat that chocolate, either."
"I hate chocolate."
"And you fainted in the hall."
"I'm anemic."
"And you're REALLY skinny."
"What are you getting at?"
Ron paused. He didn't really know what to say next. If he hadn't known what an eating disorder was, would Draco? What if there really wasn't anything wrong with him? Maybe he really was just a picky anemic. Would he be insulted by Ron's suggesting that he had a problem? Ron took a deep breath. He had to at least try...
"I was talking to Harry last night, and he told me about this... this thing. Where people stop eating to make themselves skinny."
Draco blinked. His voice shook slightly when he next spoke. "And you're going to believe everything Potter says?"
Ron chose to ignore this, stepping towards the other boy. Malfoy backed up until he was pressed against his hospital bed, eyes bigger than a house elf's.
"Something's wrong with you, Draco, I know it. I don't really know what it is yet, but... I wanna help."
Draco stood for a few moments, his mouth slightly open, and Ron was suddenly reminded of a cornered unicorn. He might've backed off if Draco's warmth and vulnerability hadn't given him such a strong urge not to.
"Get out," Draco said, voice wet and shaking. Ron blinked at him. "I don't need help. I'm fine. Now get out."
Ron stepped closer. "No."
And so they stood, two wizards pressed up against eachother, each trying vainly to overpower the other with a heated body and an icy stare. Neither one could help noticing when the more sensitive parts of their anatomy brushed against one another through layers of fabric, but they continued the staring contest. Ron felt a hot tingling between his legs and knew what that meant. He hoped Draco wouldn't notice. He hoped Draco was looking down at the floor and not Ron's groin. He hoped Draco was grinning ferally about something other than his painfully obvious attraction to the blond boy. But when Draco made slow, sliding movements that rubbed his hips against the red head's erection, hope just grinned and flew out the window.
Ron eyes went wide, and his mouth opened silently. His mind was in a haze now. He stared at the Slytherin blinkingly, trying to figure out when he had stopped trying to help Draco and Draco had begun helping him. Helping... He was supposed to be rescuing Malfoy, not screwing around-- literally. With some difficulty, he removed the hands that were now firmly holding his hips. A single blond eyebrow arched gracefully up at him.
"Don't change the subject," Ron said, attempting to sound forceful. Malfoy smirked and pressed in closer.
"Sometimes a subject change is a good thing, don't you think?" he purred, one long-fingered hand snaking between them. But Ron backed away again.
"I wanna help you, you git, not fuck you!" It came out angrier than he'd intended. Draco smirked again.
"You can help me by fucking me, then." Ron blushed suddenly.
"I... that's not what I want to do, Malfoy," he said firmly. Draco leaned up and licked Ron's ear before whispering into it.
"Your blatant hard-on is telling me otherwise."
Ron blushed harder, but stood his ground. He was NOT going to let Draco embarass him. He was NOT going to throw the tiny Slytherin onto the bed and ravish him in ways he'd never imagined. And he was most certainly not going to pay attention to where the elegant white hands were traveling, down and down and down...
... Oh, shit.
Draco grinned. "My, but you've got a lot to be proud of," he murmered against Ron's neck, talented fingers working mercilessly through three layers of clothing. He listened to the somewhat unsteady rythm of Weasley's heavy breathing and tried to match it manually. His right hand continued its work while his left pulled the hem of the other boy's robe up high enough for it to be out of the way. He took his liesurely time with the buttons on Ron's pants, speeding up when the red head moaned something that sounded suspiciously like "Draco, please..."
Malfoy's hand slipped inside Ron's jeans, fondling and petting until the panting in his ear stopped, two freckled hands clenched and wound themselves into his robes, and he felt something gooey on his fingers and the fabric of Weasley's boxer shorts.
They looked up at eachother. For a few moments they just stared, trying to take in everything that had happened. For a moment Ron though that Malfoy might be embarassed, and then they'd both be in the same boat and they could forget about it and everything would go back to normal. But instead, Draco grinned and pulled his hand out of Weasley's pants. And licked his fingers.
Ron's skin turned a colour to match the Gryffindor common room and fled, trying desperately to button the fly of his jeans on the way.
*****
Harry was waiting for him when he entered. He had been waiting, since breakfast. There were so many things he'd remembered that he had to tell Ron about-- other kinds of eating disorders, things not to say, things that might make it better, things that might make it worse, and why was Ron looking so damn flustered?
Harry gave an odd look to the flushed cheeks, rumpled clothing, and well- near terrified expression that his friend wore. "Ron, we need to--"
"Nothing!"
Harry blinked, then raised an eyebrow. "Um, Ron?"
Ron blushed, a lot, and clumsily avoided Harry's quizzical gaze. "I have to go," he blurted, then scrabbled off towards their dormitory.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK," he chanted, rushing towards his bed. He yanked off his pants, only to trip along the way and fall on his shoulder. He jumped up and went for his shoes first this time, throwing one over his shoulder in an attempt to take his anger and embarassment out on the wall behind him.
"Ow!"
Ron spun around to look at the source of the voice, only to lose his balance and fall on his other shoulder. "God dammit!" he yelled, remaining on the floor as he pulled off his other shoe and chucked it at the door. Harry ducked.
"Ack! Jeeze, Ron, what'd I do?"
"Nothing! Sorry!" Harry suspected that that might've been the angriest genuine apology he'd ever heard.
"What happened? Did Draco do something to you?"
Ron hesitated to blush even redder, then mumbled an answer in the negative. "We... I just... I tried to talk to him, but he wasn't listening."
Harry raised and lowered one shoulder in a half-shrug and leaned against the doorway, absently rubbing the new lump on his head. "They can act like that sometimes."
Ron scowled and rummaged through his trunk. "It's frustrating."
"Yeah... What're you doing?"
"Changing my pants, what the buggering hell's it look like?!"
"Why, though?"
Ron went red again. "I just... am. I got something on them."
Harry blinked. "Like...?"
"Like... It's none of your business!"
"Christ, Ron, it was only a question!"
"Well, it was a BAD question!"
"How was it a BAD question?! And why are you avoiding the subject? And why are you fucking BLUSHING so much?"
Ron blushed. "I'm not blushing..."
Harry sighed. "What'd Malfoy do to you, Ron?"
Ron looked at the floor and twiddled his fingers. "He did... things. Embarassing things. Um, less-than-heterosexual things."
Harry's eyes were the size of quaffles. "You mean he... and you... in your pants?"
Ron nodded and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah."
"Oh." Silence spanned the room a few moments, then, "Was it any good?"
Ron glared at him.
"Er, right. None of my business. Sorry."
Sigh. "It was, though. I just kinda wish I hadn't... you know... early."
Harry nodded, and was then struck with a sudden idea. "Wait, does this mean you're gay or something?"
"No!" he yelled angrily. Then he made a face. "Maybe. I don't know. I mean, I still like girls, but he... I just... Gahh."
Harry nodded again, both of them at a loss for words. They were quiet for a few minutes before Harry remembered why he'd wanted to talk to Ron in the first place. "Hey, Ron?"
"Hmm?"
"You know how I told you about how anorexia is an eating disorder?"
"Uh huh?"
"Well, it's not the only one."
*****
A/N: Ahh, poor ickle Ronnikins came in his pants! *recalls some similar experiences had with premature ejaculation* Oi, some boys just cannot control themselves! :P Anyhow, review and i'll post sooner!!
I don't have time or space at the moment to give each reviewer a real response-- sorry! But thanks much to Addy-Chan (who i apparently FORGOT to respond to last chapter... sorry hon!), Zahrah Radcliffe, Lucky, redroe23102, WildfireFriendship, Ken's Dark Angel, Liana Greenleaf, Izzy- Chan, eat mang0 (i know chocolate wouldn't aleviate anemia... really there's no cure for anemia if you're born with it, i think, but i figgered that it would at least revive him, and i needed some way to clue in to his E.D.), Young Padfoot, Aloh Dark, Bronz, Lothlorien, Snarlina (hi sweetie! ^_^), Linteloteiel the Elf Slut, Makota, HugeTolkeinFan (lol dun worry, it wasn't like a bitch review or anything, it just had a mocking sort of a tone.... but mebbe i was just mistaken, no? ^.^), Alynnia*McKinnon, nicole, Absinthe Sythe (Harry's got his reasons for being concerned.... you'll find out later! ^_~), and Endovu. Whoo, twenty reviews in one chapter! That's a record for me! :D
*****
Ron shifted in his seat, his foot still jiggling, food still untouched. Breakfast had started-- he checked his watch-- twenty-seven and a half minutes ago and Draco still hadn't arrived. What was taking him so long, anyhow?
"Ron..."
He jumped at the small voice and light touch on his hand. "Oh. Morning, Ginny."
"It really isn't your fault, you know."
"I... What are you talking about?"
"Harry told me, a few minutes ago. You've been looking tense all morning. He said you were talking in your sleep last night, too."
Ron shrugged one shoulder. "I just don't like seeing people get hurt." Yes. That's it. He would've been that concerned over ANYONE. Just keep telling yourself that, Ron.
Ginny smiled slightly. "I know. But... don't hurt YOURSELF over it, okay?"
Ron made a face. "I'm not!"
"You have before, though. You'd think you wouldn't be so compassionate with a temper like that, but--"
"I don't have a temper!"
Ginny covered her mouth delicately with her hand, trying not to laugh. Ron scowled and glared at her at the same time. She schooled her face back to a kind sort of solemnity. "I'm just saying that... Ron, be careful, okay? I really don't want to see you get hurt." Ron couldn't help smiling at her brown-eyed concern.
"Okay. Now where the hell's Draco?"
Ginny shrugged. "Still in the hospital wing, maybe?"
Ron didn't bother knocking. He never did. Ron was not the knocking type. He was the burst-through-the-door-in-a-rush-of-enveloping-emotions-then- blush-and-apologize-when-he-sees-someone-naked type.
"Draco, we need to-- oh." Ron blushed. Draco made a face.
"What?" he demanded grumpily. He wasn't naked-- far from it. In fact, he only had one article of clothing missing from his body. The problem was, said clothing article was his shirt.
A wide ray of early sunlight coming through window was shining on him from chin to thigh, casting both warmth and shadow over his small frame. Ron could see almost every bone on the boy's body, hips and ribs and collar bone jutting and rippling underneath his skin like sticks and pebbles thrown into a shallow river. His skin, warmed and brightened by sunlight, looked something like French Vanilla ice cream-- the expensive high- cholesterol kind. Ron wasn't sure what he should feel. Horrified by the bones and the indigo lines under Draco's eyes? Or fascinated (and aroused, though he refused to admit it) by all that skin?
"What?" he asked again, sounding more panicked than angry this time. Ron snapped back to attention, but it was snapped away from him again when Draco crossed his arms moodily over his chest and shifted his weight, unconsciously pushing his narrow hips towards the red-head. Ron suddenly had to be thankful for loose-fitting robes. 'It's okay,' he told himself reassuringly, 'this happens to straight guys all the time. Just about anything can make one pitch a tent these days.' He noticed Draco was still watching him, and decided he ought to say something, fast.
"You're really skinny," he blurted. Draco scowled and, to Ron's relief (and dismay, though, again, he refused to admit it), pulled his shirt on.
"You're not exactly winning any body-building competitions either, Weasley." Ron ignored this and watched, fascinated, as delicate hands worked nimbly over the shirt buttons.
"You didn't eat anything at dinner last night."
Draco made a face. "So? I don't like that stuff."
"You didn't eat that chocolate, either."
"I hate chocolate."
"And you fainted in the hall."
"I'm anemic."
"And you're REALLY skinny."
"What are you getting at?"
Ron paused. He didn't really know what to say next. If he hadn't known what an eating disorder was, would Draco? What if there really wasn't anything wrong with him? Maybe he really was just a picky anemic. Would he be insulted by Ron's suggesting that he had a problem? Ron took a deep breath. He had to at least try...
"I was talking to Harry last night, and he told me about this... this thing. Where people stop eating to make themselves skinny."
Draco blinked. His voice shook slightly when he next spoke. "And you're going to believe everything Potter says?"
Ron chose to ignore this, stepping towards the other boy. Malfoy backed up until he was pressed against his hospital bed, eyes bigger than a house elf's.
"Something's wrong with you, Draco, I know it. I don't really know what it is yet, but... I wanna help."
Draco stood for a few moments, his mouth slightly open, and Ron was suddenly reminded of a cornered unicorn. He might've backed off if Draco's warmth and vulnerability hadn't given him such a strong urge not to.
"Get out," Draco said, voice wet and shaking. Ron blinked at him. "I don't need help. I'm fine. Now get out."
Ron stepped closer. "No."
And so they stood, two wizards pressed up against eachother, each trying vainly to overpower the other with a heated body and an icy stare. Neither one could help noticing when the more sensitive parts of their anatomy brushed against one another through layers of fabric, but they continued the staring contest. Ron felt a hot tingling between his legs and knew what that meant. He hoped Draco wouldn't notice. He hoped Draco was looking down at the floor and not Ron's groin. He hoped Draco was grinning ferally about something other than his painfully obvious attraction to the blond boy. But when Draco made slow, sliding movements that rubbed his hips against the red head's erection, hope just grinned and flew out the window.
Ron eyes went wide, and his mouth opened silently. His mind was in a haze now. He stared at the Slytherin blinkingly, trying to figure out when he had stopped trying to help Draco and Draco had begun helping him. Helping... He was supposed to be rescuing Malfoy, not screwing around-- literally. With some difficulty, he removed the hands that were now firmly holding his hips. A single blond eyebrow arched gracefully up at him.
"Don't change the subject," Ron said, attempting to sound forceful. Malfoy smirked and pressed in closer.
"Sometimes a subject change is a good thing, don't you think?" he purred, one long-fingered hand snaking between them. But Ron backed away again.
"I wanna help you, you git, not fuck you!" It came out angrier than he'd intended. Draco smirked again.
"You can help me by fucking me, then." Ron blushed suddenly.
"I... that's not what I want to do, Malfoy," he said firmly. Draco leaned up and licked Ron's ear before whispering into it.
"Your blatant hard-on is telling me otherwise."
Ron blushed harder, but stood his ground. He was NOT going to let Draco embarass him. He was NOT going to throw the tiny Slytherin onto the bed and ravish him in ways he'd never imagined. And he was most certainly not going to pay attention to where the elegant white hands were traveling, down and down and down...
... Oh, shit.
Draco grinned. "My, but you've got a lot to be proud of," he murmered against Ron's neck, talented fingers working mercilessly through three layers of clothing. He listened to the somewhat unsteady rythm of Weasley's heavy breathing and tried to match it manually. His right hand continued its work while his left pulled the hem of the other boy's robe up high enough for it to be out of the way. He took his liesurely time with the buttons on Ron's pants, speeding up when the red head moaned something that sounded suspiciously like "Draco, please..."
Malfoy's hand slipped inside Ron's jeans, fondling and petting until the panting in his ear stopped, two freckled hands clenched and wound themselves into his robes, and he felt something gooey on his fingers and the fabric of Weasley's boxer shorts.
They looked up at eachother. For a few moments they just stared, trying to take in everything that had happened. For a moment Ron though that Malfoy might be embarassed, and then they'd both be in the same boat and they could forget about it and everything would go back to normal. But instead, Draco grinned and pulled his hand out of Weasley's pants. And licked his fingers.
Ron's skin turned a colour to match the Gryffindor common room and fled, trying desperately to button the fly of his jeans on the way.
*****
Harry was waiting for him when he entered. He had been waiting, since breakfast. There were so many things he'd remembered that he had to tell Ron about-- other kinds of eating disorders, things not to say, things that might make it better, things that might make it worse, and why was Ron looking so damn flustered?
Harry gave an odd look to the flushed cheeks, rumpled clothing, and well- near terrified expression that his friend wore. "Ron, we need to--"
"Nothing!"
Harry blinked, then raised an eyebrow. "Um, Ron?"
Ron blushed, a lot, and clumsily avoided Harry's quizzical gaze. "I have to go," he blurted, then scrabbled off towards their dormitory.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK," he chanted, rushing towards his bed. He yanked off his pants, only to trip along the way and fall on his shoulder. He jumped up and went for his shoes first this time, throwing one over his shoulder in an attempt to take his anger and embarassment out on the wall behind him.
"Ow!"
Ron spun around to look at the source of the voice, only to lose his balance and fall on his other shoulder. "God dammit!" he yelled, remaining on the floor as he pulled off his other shoe and chucked it at the door. Harry ducked.
"Ack! Jeeze, Ron, what'd I do?"
"Nothing! Sorry!" Harry suspected that that might've been the angriest genuine apology he'd ever heard.
"What happened? Did Draco do something to you?"
Ron hesitated to blush even redder, then mumbled an answer in the negative. "We... I just... I tried to talk to him, but he wasn't listening."
Harry raised and lowered one shoulder in a half-shrug and leaned against the doorway, absently rubbing the new lump on his head. "They can act like that sometimes."
Ron scowled and rummaged through his trunk. "It's frustrating."
"Yeah... What're you doing?"
"Changing my pants, what the buggering hell's it look like?!"
"Why, though?"
Ron went red again. "I just... am. I got something on them."
Harry blinked. "Like...?"
"Like... It's none of your business!"
"Christ, Ron, it was only a question!"
"Well, it was a BAD question!"
"How was it a BAD question?! And why are you avoiding the subject? And why are you fucking BLUSHING so much?"
Ron blushed. "I'm not blushing..."
Harry sighed. "What'd Malfoy do to you, Ron?"
Ron looked at the floor and twiddled his fingers. "He did... things. Embarassing things. Um, less-than-heterosexual things."
Harry's eyes were the size of quaffles. "You mean he... and you... in your pants?"
Ron nodded and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah."
"Oh." Silence spanned the room a few moments, then, "Was it any good?"
Ron glared at him.
"Er, right. None of my business. Sorry."
Sigh. "It was, though. I just kinda wish I hadn't... you know... early."
Harry nodded, and was then struck with a sudden idea. "Wait, does this mean you're gay or something?"
"No!" he yelled angrily. Then he made a face. "Maybe. I don't know. I mean, I still like girls, but he... I just... Gahh."
Harry nodded again, both of them at a loss for words. They were quiet for a few minutes before Harry remembered why he'd wanted to talk to Ron in the first place. "Hey, Ron?"
"Hmm?"
"You know how I told you about how anorexia is an eating disorder?"
"Uh huh?"
"Well, it's not the only one."
*****
A/N: Ahh, poor ickle Ronnikins came in his pants! *recalls some similar experiences had with premature ejaculation* Oi, some boys just cannot control themselves! :P Anyhow, review and i'll post sooner!!