Author's Note: My back hurts really bad. And i have way too many fic ideas
for my own good... most of them involving Oliver Wood and characters that i
have yet to see him paired with but still make sense somehow. This
chapter's another raunchy one, so watch out youngun's! Mucho thanks-o
toooo....
Dana Malfoy, Zahrah Radcliffe, siw-wa, Winged Goddess, KT the Shimmer Skank (don't worry, Draco's wierd mood swings get explained later), alle, redrose2310, WildfireFriendship, Linteloteiel the Elf Slut, scarletwoman, Gisele S. Carvalho (voyeurish Harry? now THAT's what i call a smutfic idea! XD), Andrea, lollipop queen, Aloh Dark, HugeTolkeinFan (*sighs* i'll just just have to come up with my own expressive word-sound then, eh? ^_~), Makota (three cheers for Mr. Buzzy!! ^___^), Rue, and Lizard. Also thanks to all my pals who keep me goin', and to lovely Bakemon who puts up with all my crap. :P And i'd like to thank the Academy....
*****
Ron tapped down the stairway to the common room, passed through the portrait hole, and began to wander the halls, all with a hunk of the infamous chocolate clutched in one hand. "Don't back down, don't look back," he chanted to himself, looking around for the French Vanilla skin and shock of silvery hair. "Don't back down, don't look back. Don't back down, don't look back. Don't back down, don't look--"
Ron stopped in his tracks. There he was, leaning against a wall, flanked by cronies and several giggling girls. Ron had a sudden surge of jealously, but he quickly supressed it (into the closet) and approached the frail boy. A blush climbed his neck at memories of that morning, but he forced himself to ignore both.
"I need to talk to you, Malfoy," he said sternly. A single blond eyebrow arched delicately.
"And just what would you call what we're doing, Weasley?"
"Alone."
Smirk. "I can't imagine what you'd have to have to say to me that can't be said here." The sarcasm and irony that dripped venemously off that statement made Ron's eye twitch.
"You'd be suprised," he growled through clenched teeth. The two boys watched eachother for a few seconds before Ron turned and strode down the hall, knowing Draco well enough to know that he'd follow.
"Where am I following you to?" he asked after a few minutes' walking side- by-side. "While I'm sure you know of quite a few good shagging spots, I doubt that your knowledge of Hogwarts Nooks and Crannies isn't nearly as extensive as mine, so if you'd just let me show the way..." Draco trailed off and let his right hand wander across the back of Ron's thigh. The latter jumped away from the tickling touch.
"That's not... I don't want to--"
"Of course you don't."
"Would you quit smirking like you've just been crowned King of bloody Sexton?"
"You know it turns you on."
"Draco, shut UP!"
"Ooh, I just love it when you get all domineering like that...!" Ron felt the wandering hand again, punctuated by a frail weight leaning against him slightly. He batted the hand away.
"Quit doing that! I said I wanna talk to you, and that's what I'm gonna do!"
"Well, I hope you like one-sided conversations, because my mouth is going to be occupied." He winked.
Freckles nearly disappeared underneath the blush. "You have issues," he grumbled, and turned to face the door of...
"A broom closet, Weasley?"
"No one comes in here," he said irksomely, holding the door open.
Smirk, again, as they entered the small room. "Know from experience?"
Ron bristled suddenly. "Stop being horny for five minutes and fucking LISTEN for once!" he yelled angrily. "You're always running off or pushing away or pulling so close that I can't even SEE you anymore, and I'm sick of it! I need to talk to you, and you need to listen! Alright, already?!"
Draco blinked. Leaned over. Pushed the door shut, charmed the lock. "What is it?"
Ron took a deep breath. "Why don't you eat, Draco?"
Scowl. "Why do you care?"
Frown. "Why do you always avoid this subject?"
"Why do you answers questions with questions?"
"Why do you?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Why do you pretend it doesn't?"
They glared at eachother for several minutes. Ron absently noticed that there seemed to be a lot of unannounced staring contests in their relationship, then mentally kicked himself for calling their relationship a relationship.
"You need to eat," Ron finally said softly.
"I don't need to do shit," Draco hissed back. Their faces were close enough for a passionate kiss or a venemous bite. Possibly both.
"You're gonna eat," Ron said sternly. "You're gonna get better. And you're gonna live through this, like it or not." He let a few more seconds slide by for dramatic effect, then slowly brought the hunk of chocolate up to their eye level. Draco blinked.
"I hope you aren't expecting me to eat that, Weasel."
Ron maintained both eye contact and meaningful silence.
"Well, I'm not going to. I don't care what you think or do, you can't make me eat that!"
Ron broke off a thumb-sized piece. He pulled a single lithe hand towards him, opened it, and pressed the sinful object in the smooth, narrow palm. Draco just looked at it.
"I'll force-feed you if I have to, Draco, but you're eating this chocolate before I leave."
Cold eyes burned, and the blond wizard threw the tiny candy across the room, rage lining his features and actions. Ron's eye twitched. This was going to be difficult.
He snapped off another chunk and held it out towards the other boy. "Eat." His tone was simple and as calm as he could make it.
"No." Just as simple, but he wasn't even trying for calm.
Ron lunged forward then, closing the few inches that held them apart by grabbing for Draco's throat. The blond panicked, thinking Ron would strangle him. But the hand moved up to his face, trying to pull his mouth open. Draco pulled away violently. Ron pressed impossibly closer, squeezing the hollows of pale cheeks in a feeble attempt to pry open his jaw. But the sharp bones belied his strength, and his teeth remained stubbornly clenched together, his head turning and yanking away from warm, calloused, freckly hands.
Ron had to either think fast, or not think at all. Being a Weasley (who wasn't Percy), he automatically went with the latter. He shoved the chocolate inside his own mouth, forgot to hesitate, and pressed his lips to Draco's.
They froze. The broom closet was silent, as well as the one inside Ron's head, for the moment. It was just these two shocked, determined, stubborn boys that kissed eachother with their eyes open and their mouths and hands held completely still. Ron forgot about his non-thinking plan and, for a moment, had no idea what to do.
And then Ron's closet burst open with a flurry of noise and movement. Voices telling him to pull away you little faggot, to stick your tongue in his mouth you know you want to, to give him the chocolate, to eat the chocolate, to just stop and think for a minute, to screw thinking and fuck him already, to kiss him kiss him kiss him.
And then Draco was kissing him.
Ron felt the lips sucking and moving across his and he responded, telling the voices in his head to shut it because this felt a lot nicer than he'd expected. In fact, the only thing even remotely not-nice-feeling about this was the painful heat between his legs. And that wasn't even a BAD pain.
A sharp tongue wedged its way between his lips, and he took the opportunity to slide the chocolate into Draco's mouth. Ron could hear a moan, and in his present state of mind he couldn't tell who had uttered the emotion- loaded sound. He absently put another chunk of the candy in his mouth and passed it to the lithe Slytherin. He heard another moan as sugar and cocoa melted between them, and this time he knew the noise came from them both.
After awhile, Ron didn't know how long they'd been there. All he could tell was that the chocolate had been consumed, their shirts and robes were in heaps on the floor, and he was pressed so close and Draco moved so well that the searing, aching sensation in his groin was becoming unbearable. Moaning, biting, grunting, grinding, promising, licking-- it was all happening here, now. Ron didn't care anymore why he'd gone there in the first place.
But something changed. It took him several seconds to realize this, then several more to figure out what it was. Draco had stopped moving. Ron pulled back and opened his eyes to a look of wide-eyed horror. Draco's lowed lip quivered. Ron cocked his head and looked concerned.
"Draco?" he asked quietly, rubbing his hands along the skinny upper arms. "Are you alright?"
Draco shook his head, panting and looking completely terrified. His eyes darted around the room, and in the second or two it took Ron to figure out what the problem was, the blond head was turned away from him and an index and middle finger went shakily to Draco's mouth.
"No!" Ron yelled firmly, gripping tiny wrists and pulling them away. "You are NOT going to do this to yourself!"
Draco screeched. And clawed. And cried. And beat balled fists against a bare freckled chest. But Ron just pulled him onto the floor and cradled him in his lap, holding him and stroking his hair until he could feel the hiccupping breaths and fingernails on his shoulders and hot tears smeared against his neck and left ear.
"I can't fucking do this," Draco sobbed, the fear and exhaustion and depression evident in his suddenly small voice.
"I know," Ron said softly, kissing the top of his head. "That's why I'm here."
"That's not what I mean! I can't get better, Ron! I just... you don't understand..." Draco trailed off, and Ron could feel the boy curling further into himself.
"Yes, you can! Harry knows all about this stuff, and--"
"It's not a matter of physical recovery... it's a matter of not being sure what I'd have to live for if I didn't have this."
Ron blinked. He hadn't realized how much control this could have over someone's life. "What haven't you got to live for?"
Draco pulled back and looked him in the eye. His face was flushed and wet and utterly confused. "What?"
"What's so horrible about your life that you'd want to get rid of it?"
Draco looked away. "You wouldn't understand."
"Maybe I will."
"I don't want you to."
"Maybe I should."
Draco sighed. "It's like... there's nothing I want to do with my life, really, but my destiny's been made up for me anyway."
"Isn't that what destiny is? Pre-determined?"
"No, I mean... My future, my life, is all set up for me, and when you get down to it, it's Death Eaters or death. I haven't got control over anything in my life except this, do you know that?" Draco's tone was oddly conversational. Like he was talking about a cleaning spell in Witch Weekly.
Ron wanted to say "You have control over ME," but didn't, because he wasn't quite ready to throw himself that far just yet.
"Do you always have to have control?" he murmered instead, burying his nose in Draco's hair. He smelled of rain, sage, and black leather. The latter scent and the sudden realization that hey, there's a cute boy in your lap! made something inside of him twitch hotly. He ignored it.
"I'm a Slytherin," Draco answered shortly. He trailed cold fingers down Ron's chest, causing the redhead to shiver lightly. "I think I hurt you."
Ron was momentarily confused. That felt so nice, how could he possibly be hurt? Then he looked down and saw long scratch marks, felt the sore spots that would surely turn out to be bruises. "Oh. Don't worry about it."
Draco smirked. "Don't try and be brave, Weasley, I know you're in pain caused by my hands." There was so much pride in the cool voice that Ron had to supress a shudder.
"Since when did we go back to last name basis, Malfoy?" he asked, half- playfully.
"Since when did we switch to a first name basis in the first place?"
Ron laughed and pulled Draco closer, ignoring the eye-roll he recieved in return.
***** A/N: Finally. Jeezus, this is taking a long time... It's also getting pretty dirty at parts, eh? It'd prolly get dirtier, if it weren't for all this anti-NC17-osity. Not that i don't respect their decision-- after all, i've got a little sister who's just getting into HPff, and i'd like to keep her as un-corrupted as possible for the time being, thankyouverymuch. Err, right... review! ^_^
Dana Malfoy, Zahrah Radcliffe, siw-wa, Winged Goddess, KT the Shimmer Skank (don't worry, Draco's wierd mood swings get explained later), alle, redrose2310, WildfireFriendship, Linteloteiel the Elf Slut, scarletwoman, Gisele S. Carvalho (voyeurish Harry? now THAT's what i call a smutfic idea! XD), Andrea, lollipop queen, Aloh Dark, HugeTolkeinFan (*sighs* i'll just just have to come up with my own expressive word-sound then, eh? ^_~), Makota (three cheers for Mr. Buzzy!! ^___^), Rue, and Lizard. Also thanks to all my pals who keep me goin', and to lovely Bakemon who puts up with all my crap. :P And i'd like to thank the Academy....
*****
Ron tapped down the stairway to the common room, passed through the portrait hole, and began to wander the halls, all with a hunk of the infamous chocolate clutched in one hand. "Don't back down, don't look back," he chanted to himself, looking around for the French Vanilla skin and shock of silvery hair. "Don't back down, don't look back. Don't back down, don't look back. Don't back down, don't look--"
Ron stopped in his tracks. There he was, leaning against a wall, flanked by cronies and several giggling girls. Ron had a sudden surge of jealously, but he quickly supressed it (into the closet) and approached the frail boy. A blush climbed his neck at memories of that morning, but he forced himself to ignore both.
"I need to talk to you, Malfoy," he said sternly. A single blond eyebrow arched delicately.
"And just what would you call what we're doing, Weasley?"
"Alone."
Smirk. "I can't imagine what you'd have to have to say to me that can't be said here." The sarcasm and irony that dripped venemously off that statement made Ron's eye twitch.
"You'd be suprised," he growled through clenched teeth. The two boys watched eachother for a few seconds before Ron turned and strode down the hall, knowing Draco well enough to know that he'd follow.
"Where am I following you to?" he asked after a few minutes' walking side- by-side. "While I'm sure you know of quite a few good shagging spots, I doubt that your knowledge of Hogwarts Nooks and Crannies isn't nearly as extensive as mine, so if you'd just let me show the way..." Draco trailed off and let his right hand wander across the back of Ron's thigh. The latter jumped away from the tickling touch.
"That's not... I don't want to--"
"Of course you don't."
"Would you quit smirking like you've just been crowned King of bloody Sexton?"
"You know it turns you on."
"Draco, shut UP!"
"Ooh, I just love it when you get all domineering like that...!" Ron felt the wandering hand again, punctuated by a frail weight leaning against him slightly. He batted the hand away.
"Quit doing that! I said I wanna talk to you, and that's what I'm gonna do!"
"Well, I hope you like one-sided conversations, because my mouth is going to be occupied." He winked.
Freckles nearly disappeared underneath the blush. "You have issues," he grumbled, and turned to face the door of...
"A broom closet, Weasley?"
"No one comes in here," he said irksomely, holding the door open.
Smirk, again, as they entered the small room. "Know from experience?"
Ron bristled suddenly. "Stop being horny for five minutes and fucking LISTEN for once!" he yelled angrily. "You're always running off or pushing away or pulling so close that I can't even SEE you anymore, and I'm sick of it! I need to talk to you, and you need to listen! Alright, already?!"
Draco blinked. Leaned over. Pushed the door shut, charmed the lock. "What is it?"
Ron took a deep breath. "Why don't you eat, Draco?"
Scowl. "Why do you care?"
Frown. "Why do you always avoid this subject?"
"Why do you answers questions with questions?"
"Why do you?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Why do you pretend it doesn't?"
They glared at eachother for several minutes. Ron absently noticed that there seemed to be a lot of unannounced staring contests in their relationship, then mentally kicked himself for calling their relationship a relationship.
"You need to eat," Ron finally said softly.
"I don't need to do shit," Draco hissed back. Their faces were close enough for a passionate kiss or a venemous bite. Possibly both.
"You're gonna eat," Ron said sternly. "You're gonna get better. And you're gonna live through this, like it or not." He let a few more seconds slide by for dramatic effect, then slowly brought the hunk of chocolate up to their eye level. Draco blinked.
"I hope you aren't expecting me to eat that, Weasel."
Ron maintained both eye contact and meaningful silence.
"Well, I'm not going to. I don't care what you think or do, you can't make me eat that!"
Ron broke off a thumb-sized piece. He pulled a single lithe hand towards him, opened it, and pressed the sinful object in the smooth, narrow palm. Draco just looked at it.
"I'll force-feed you if I have to, Draco, but you're eating this chocolate before I leave."
Cold eyes burned, and the blond wizard threw the tiny candy across the room, rage lining his features and actions. Ron's eye twitched. This was going to be difficult.
He snapped off another chunk and held it out towards the other boy. "Eat." His tone was simple and as calm as he could make it.
"No." Just as simple, but he wasn't even trying for calm.
Ron lunged forward then, closing the few inches that held them apart by grabbing for Draco's throat. The blond panicked, thinking Ron would strangle him. But the hand moved up to his face, trying to pull his mouth open. Draco pulled away violently. Ron pressed impossibly closer, squeezing the hollows of pale cheeks in a feeble attempt to pry open his jaw. But the sharp bones belied his strength, and his teeth remained stubbornly clenched together, his head turning and yanking away from warm, calloused, freckly hands.
Ron had to either think fast, or not think at all. Being a Weasley (who wasn't Percy), he automatically went with the latter. He shoved the chocolate inside his own mouth, forgot to hesitate, and pressed his lips to Draco's.
They froze. The broom closet was silent, as well as the one inside Ron's head, for the moment. It was just these two shocked, determined, stubborn boys that kissed eachother with their eyes open and their mouths and hands held completely still. Ron forgot about his non-thinking plan and, for a moment, had no idea what to do.
And then Ron's closet burst open with a flurry of noise and movement. Voices telling him to pull away you little faggot, to stick your tongue in his mouth you know you want to, to give him the chocolate, to eat the chocolate, to just stop and think for a minute, to screw thinking and fuck him already, to kiss him kiss him kiss him.
And then Draco was kissing him.
Ron felt the lips sucking and moving across his and he responded, telling the voices in his head to shut it because this felt a lot nicer than he'd expected. In fact, the only thing even remotely not-nice-feeling about this was the painful heat between his legs. And that wasn't even a BAD pain.
A sharp tongue wedged its way between his lips, and he took the opportunity to slide the chocolate into Draco's mouth. Ron could hear a moan, and in his present state of mind he couldn't tell who had uttered the emotion- loaded sound. He absently put another chunk of the candy in his mouth and passed it to the lithe Slytherin. He heard another moan as sugar and cocoa melted between them, and this time he knew the noise came from them both.
After awhile, Ron didn't know how long they'd been there. All he could tell was that the chocolate had been consumed, their shirts and robes were in heaps on the floor, and he was pressed so close and Draco moved so well that the searing, aching sensation in his groin was becoming unbearable. Moaning, biting, grunting, grinding, promising, licking-- it was all happening here, now. Ron didn't care anymore why he'd gone there in the first place.
But something changed. It took him several seconds to realize this, then several more to figure out what it was. Draco had stopped moving. Ron pulled back and opened his eyes to a look of wide-eyed horror. Draco's lowed lip quivered. Ron cocked his head and looked concerned.
"Draco?" he asked quietly, rubbing his hands along the skinny upper arms. "Are you alright?"
Draco shook his head, panting and looking completely terrified. His eyes darted around the room, and in the second or two it took Ron to figure out what the problem was, the blond head was turned away from him and an index and middle finger went shakily to Draco's mouth.
"No!" Ron yelled firmly, gripping tiny wrists and pulling them away. "You are NOT going to do this to yourself!"
Draco screeched. And clawed. And cried. And beat balled fists against a bare freckled chest. But Ron just pulled him onto the floor and cradled him in his lap, holding him and stroking his hair until he could feel the hiccupping breaths and fingernails on his shoulders and hot tears smeared against his neck and left ear.
"I can't fucking do this," Draco sobbed, the fear and exhaustion and depression evident in his suddenly small voice.
"I know," Ron said softly, kissing the top of his head. "That's why I'm here."
"That's not what I mean! I can't get better, Ron! I just... you don't understand..." Draco trailed off, and Ron could feel the boy curling further into himself.
"Yes, you can! Harry knows all about this stuff, and--"
"It's not a matter of physical recovery... it's a matter of not being sure what I'd have to live for if I didn't have this."
Ron blinked. He hadn't realized how much control this could have over someone's life. "What haven't you got to live for?"
Draco pulled back and looked him in the eye. His face was flushed and wet and utterly confused. "What?"
"What's so horrible about your life that you'd want to get rid of it?"
Draco looked away. "You wouldn't understand."
"Maybe I will."
"I don't want you to."
"Maybe I should."
Draco sighed. "It's like... there's nothing I want to do with my life, really, but my destiny's been made up for me anyway."
"Isn't that what destiny is? Pre-determined?"
"No, I mean... My future, my life, is all set up for me, and when you get down to it, it's Death Eaters or death. I haven't got control over anything in my life except this, do you know that?" Draco's tone was oddly conversational. Like he was talking about a cleaning spell in Witch Weekly.
Ron wanted to say "You have control over ME," but didn't, because he wasn't quite ready to throw himself that far just yet.
"Do you always have to have control?" he murmered instead, burying his nose in Draco's hair. He smelled of rain, sage, and black leather. The latter scent and the sudden realization that hey, there's a cute boy in your lap! made something inside of him twitch hotly. He ignored it.
"I'm a Slytherin," Draco answered shortly. He trailed cold fingers down Ron's chest, causing the redhead to shiver lightly. "I think I hurt you."
Ron was momentarily confused. That felt so nice, how could he possibly be hurt? Then he looked down and saw long scratch marks, felt the sore spots that would surely turn out to be bruises. "Oh. Don't worry about it."
Draco smirked. "Don't try and be brave, Weasley, I know you're in pain caused by my hands." There was so much pride in the cool voice that Ron had to supress a shudder.
"Since when did we go back to last name basis, Malfoy?" he asked, half- playfully.
"Since when did we switch to a first name basis in the first place?"
Ron laughed and pulled Draco closer, ignoring the eye-roll he recieved in return.
***** A/N: Finally. Jeezus, this is taking a long time... It's also getting pretty dirty at parts, eh? It'd prolly get dirtier, if it weren't for all this anti-NC17-osity. Not that i don't respect their decision-- after all, i've got a little sister who's just getting into HPff, and i'd like to keep her as un-corrupted as possible for the time being, thankyouverymuch. Err, right... review! ^_^