5. …we meet the world's best and foremost expert of avoiding
mirrors
Ron sat at the table feeling terribly relieved. By some stroke of the bizarre Draco had
turned out to be an excellent tour guide with a great attention to detail, informing Ron
exactly where they were and what rooms were which (and this had included the council
room). Ron now had all the information he needed to carry out the plan and then he
could worry about making it through the next day or so and getting HOME.
His relief fled, however, as Lucius sat down at the head of the table. He couldn't help
remembering the warm velvety length pressing him against the wall and the measured
gazes he kept catching out the corner of his eye weren't helping. In desperation Ron
found himself looking imploringly to Draco for support and was surprised to find it.
From the dark looks Draco was shooting at his father, the two operated under uneasy
terms.
After dinner Ron fled to his rooms. He found himself doing this a lot but flight and
regroup seemed to be good tactics. He figured he wait until about three o'clock in the
morning before sneaking down and planting the magical amplifier. Since it was only ten
o'clock now Ron figured he might as well lie down for a spell and get some rest.
He considered lying down fully clothed to avoid sight of the ripe body he was currently
inhabiting and the thoughts it inevitably led to but considering the Malfoy habit of
showing up unexpectedly he decided he shouldn't risk it for the suspicion it might raise.
He searched around for a nightgown and wished he hadn't when he found it. It was a
lacy negligee that Ron was sure was designed to hide as little of the female figure as
possible. Ron decided that he was soon to become the world's best and foremost expert
of avoiding mirrors to be seen in several centuries. Not that even that would help much.
Ron kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut through as much of the changing proceedings as
possible. He had a nasty, fluttery turn when the blouse buttons refused to cooperate but
finally he made it into the negligee without personal injury. He then stretched himself
out stiffly on the big four-poster bed, willing himself to sleep for just a little bit anyway
but knowing full well that all attempts were pretty well doomed at the onset.
About an hour later Ron still lay there, staring up at the ceiling, growing tenser by the
minute. At this point he was seriously questioning his choice to come on this mission
and desperately wanting some way to call it all off. He startled then when a hand settled
firmly on his wrist, having been too absorbed in the drama playing in his head to have
heard someone come into the room.
Attempting to sit up, Ron inadvertently slammed his lips quite solidly into those of Draco
Malfoy. Obviously taking this as a sign of eager cooperation, Draco grabbed his
girlfriend securely by the back of the head and proceeded to kiss her quite passionately.
His tongue probed at Ron's lips, already slack from what must have been shock so that
Ron felt its hot tip darting just inside his mouth.
At this point the battle between body and brain became too much for Ron and he broke
into hysterics. With a sob he broke from Draco's embrace and turned to weep into his
pillow. Internally berating himself for being the worst sissy wimp loser he could possibly
imagine, he desperately tried to collect himself. Crying in front of the enemy is NOT AN
OPTION WEASLEY! It did not help that Draco's still hot hand was rubbing his
shoulder and back.
"What's wrong, Blaise?" Draco queried. "You've been acting strange all day. Is
something the matter?"
Desperately hunting for a response in the chaos of his mind, Ron seized on a piece of
truth that just might be able to explain some of his bizarre behavior. Fighting to collect
himself, he turned his tearstained face to Draco and whispered, "He came to my room
when you were at lunch. He…..he kissed me." The thought of that other encounter bore
down on him and he felt his eyes once more begin to fill.
Damn it! Why did the Malfoys have to be such good kissers?! And why did he have to
be not allowed to enjoy it? "I wonder what it would feel like in my own body?" skittered
guiltily across Ron's mind. "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" he told himself and
whimpered, his tears almost exhausted. Still, relieving some of the tension made him feel
a bit better already. A tiny bit. It was hard being a girl. Ron swore then and there never to
antagonize Ginny and Hermione again or tell them that they were being "batty females."
Draco cursed. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, glaring at nothing in particular. "I hate him
so much. I'm sorry he bothered you." With surprising tenderness, he cupped the side of
Ron's face in one hand, tracing his lips with one finger. "Promise me that you'll stay
away from him. It's the only way. He's never been able to control himself."
"I…" Ron couldn't remember the rest of what he intended to say. Strange sensations
were running rampant in his body. He sighed pathetically. Draco interpreted this correctly
and once again seized Ron's lips with his own, gently coaxing the nightgown from Ron's
shoulders. Pressing feather-light kisses along Ron's collarbone, he somehow whisked the
rest of garment off with a finesse that Ron had to admire even under the current
circumstances. Ron threw back his head, feeling like his brain was misfiring and the big
"WARNING! STOP, FOOL!" sign that should have been going off was horribly delayed.
Then…
"Ah, what the hell," he thought. Whether it was the day's stress or fear from Harry – or
simply physical arousal – he wasn't sure. All he knew is that one of his hands was
slipping up under Draco's shirt and the other was slowly inching down the front of
Draco's pants. Draco's breath caught, then he grinned wickedly, his hands in places that
Ron only wished his hands had been.
And Ron gave himself up to the hopelessness of the situation.
When Ron next awoke it was to a cozy darkness. For a while he luxuriated in the
comfort of the bed and blankets, in the warmth of the body tucked securely next to his
own. His mind drifted lazily, circling around nothings the way a mind often does that is
half asleep. Eventually he got around to trying to figure out what it was that had woken
him and here his body stilled.
The magical amplifier. Stupid. STUPID! He had forgotten all about it what
with……anyway. Pushing thoughts of morality aside Ron tried to concentrate on what to
do about that stupid amplifier thingy. If it wasn't too far into morning there was still a
chance that he could sneak it into the council room, but what bloody time was it?
It was at this point that Ron fortuitously became aware of an extremely creepy clock. It
was quite odd that he hadn't noticed it earlier because he could see it quite clearly from
where he lay on the bed, a tall grandfather clock with black scrollwork and a ghostly pale,
though dusty, face upon which two skeletally thin and tortured looking creatures lay
stretched, pointing out the time. It was four o'clock.
Ok, so it was still enough the dead of night to carry out his errand. Now, one or two
more things to deal with. Draco was sleeping on his hand. This one had Ron stumped
for a while. From the even steadiness of the breaths that brushed his cheek, Draco was
fairly deeply asleep and any tip-toeing around that Ron needed to do probably wouldn't
wake him, but shifting him to free his hand probably would. The answer, when it came,
was almost elegant in its simplicity.
Leaning into the sweet breath of his lover (no, now's not the time to think about that) Ron
nuzzled his ear. "I have to go to the bathroom, honey," he murmured. It was creepy how
easily that rolled off his tongue Ron thought as he gently eased his hand from under the
sleeping beauty (no, no not now!).
Once out of bed he rummaged around in his drawer for the magical amplifier. Locating a
silky robe he tugged it on over his nightgown, which had somehow ended up back on
him, a fact for which he was rather grateful. He was doing his best to concentrate but
certain other thoughts kept wriggling into his mind, distracting him. He deliberately left
off his slippers, hoping the cold of the bare stone floors would work to keep him alert.
mirrors
Ron sat at the table feeling terribly relieved. By some stroke of the bizarre Draco had
turned out to be an excellent tour guide with a great attention to detail, informing Ron
exactly where they were and what rooms were which (and this had included the council
room). Ron now had all the information he needed to carry out the plan and then he
could worry about making it through the next day or so and getting HOME.
His relief fled, however, as Lucius sat down at the head of the table. He couldn't help
remembering the warm velvety length pressing him against the wall and the measured
gazes he kept catching out the corner of his eye weren't helping. In desperation Ron
found himself looking imploringly to Draco for support and was surprised to find it.
From the dark looks Draco was shooting at his father, the two operated under uneasy
terms.
After dinner Ron fled to his rooms. He found himself doing this a lot but flight and
regroup seemed to be good tactics. He figured he wait until about three o'clock in the
morning before sneaking down and planting the magical amplifier. Since it was only ten
o'clock now Ron figured he might as well lie down for a spell and get some rest.
He considered lying down fully clothed to avoid sight of the ripe body he was currently
inhabiting and the thoughts it inevitably led to but considering the Malfoy habit of
showing up unexpectedly he decided he shouldn't risk it for the suspicion it might raise.
He searched around for a nightgown and wished he hadn't when he found it. It was a
lacy negligee that Ron was sure was designed to hide as little of the female figure as
possible. Ron decided that he was soon to become the world's best and foremost expert
of avoiding mirrors to be seen in several centuries. Not that even that would help much.
Ron kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut through as much of the changing proceedings as
possible. He had a nasty, fluttery turn when the blouse buttons refused to cooperate but
finally he made it into the negligee without personal injury. He then stretched himself
out stiffly on the big four-poster bed, willing himself to sleep for just a little bit anyway
but knowing full well that all attempts were pretty well doomed at the onset.
About an hour later Ron still lay there, staring up at the ceiling, growing tenser by the
minute. At this point he was seriously questioning his choice to come on this mission
and desperately wanting some way to call it all off. He startled then when a hand settled
firmly on his wrist, having been too absorbed in the drama playing in his head to have
heard someone come into the room.
Attempting to sit up, Ron inadvertently slammed his lips quite solidly into those of Draco
Malfoy. Obviously taking this as a sign of eager cooperation, Draco grabbed his
girlfriend securely by the back of the head and proceeded to kiss her quite passionately.
His tongue probed at Ron's lips, already slack from what must have been shock so that
Ron felt its hot tip darting just inside his mouth.
At this point the battle between body and brain became too much for Ron and he broke
into hysterics. With a sob he broke from Draco's embrace and turned to weep into his
pillow. Internally berating himself for being the worst sissy wimp loser he could possibly
imagine, he desperately tried to collect himself. Crying in front of the enemy is NOT AN
OPTION WEASLEY! It did not help that Draco's still hot hand was rubbing his
shoulder and back.
"What's wrong, Blaise?" Draco queried. "You've been acting strange all day. Is
something the matter?"
Desperately hunting for a response in the chaos of his mind, Ron seized on a piece of
truth that just might be able to explain some of his bizarre behavior. Fighting to collect
himself, he turned his tearstained face to Draco and whispered, "He came to my room
when you were at lunch. He…..he kissed me." The thought of that other encounter bore
down on him and he felt his eyes once more begin to fill.
Damn it! Why did the Malfoys have to be such good kissers?! And why did he have to
be not allowed to enjoy it? "I wonder what it would feel like in my own body?" skittered
guiltily across Ron's mind. "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" he told himself and
whimpered, his tears almost exhausted. Still, relieving some of the tension made him feel
a bit better already. A tiny bit. It was hard being a girl. Ron swore then and there never to
antagonize Ginny and Hermione again or tell them that they were being "batty females."
Draco cursed. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, glaring at nothing in particular. "I hate him
so much. I'm sorry he bothered you." With surprising tenderness, he cupped the side of
Ron's face in one hand, tracing his lips with one finger. "Promise me that you'll stay
away from him. It's the only way. He's never been able to control himself."
"I…" Ron couldn't remember the rest of what he intended to say. Strange sensations
were running rampant in his body. He sighed pathetically. Draco interpreted this correctly
and once again seized Ron's lips with his own, gently coaxing the nightgown from Ron's
shoulders. Pressing feather-light kisses along Ron's collarbone, he somehow whisked the
rest of garment off with a finesse that Ron had to admire even under the current
circumstances. Ron threw back his head, feeling like his brain was misfiring and the big
"WARNING! STOP, FOOL!" sign that should have been going off was horribly delayed.
Then…
"Ah, what the hell," he thought. Whether it was the day's stress or fear from Harry – or
simply physical arousal – he wasn't sure. All he knew is that one of his hands was
slipping up under Draco's shirt and the other was slowly inching down the front of
Draco's pants. Draco's breath caught, then he grinned wickedly, his hands in places that
Ron only wished his hands had been.
And Ron gave himself up to the hopelessness of the situation.
When Ron next awoke it was to a cozy darkness. For a while he luxuriated in the
comfort of the bed and blankets, in the warmth of the body tucked securely next to his
own. His mind drifted lazily, circling around nothings the way a mind often does that is
half asleep. Eventually he got around to trying to figure out what it was that had woken
him and here his body stilled.
The magical amplifier. Stupid. STUPID! He had forgotten all about it what
with……anyway. Pushing thoughts of morality aside Ron tried to concentrate on what to
do about that stupid amplifier thingy. If it wasn't too far into morning there was still a
chance that he could sneak it into the council room, but what bloody time was it?
It was at this point that Ron fortuitously became aware of an extremely creepy clock. It
was quite odd that he hadn't noticed it earlier because he could see it quite clearly from
where he lay on the bed, a tall grandfather clock with black scrollwork and a ghostly pale,
though dusty, face upon which two skeletally thin and tortured looking creatures lay
stretched, pointing out the time. It was four o'clock.
Ok, so it was still enough the dead of night to carry out his errand. Now, one or two
more things to deal with. Draco was sleeping on his hand. This one had Ron stumped
for a while. From the even steadiness of the breaths that brushed his cheek, Draco was
fairly deeply asleep and any tip-toeing around that Ron needed to do probably wouldn't
wake him, but shifting him to free his hand probably would. The answer, when it came,
was almost elegant in its simplicity.
Leaning into the sweet breath of his lover (no, now's not the time to think about that) Ron
nuzzled his ear. "I have to go to the bathroom, honey," he murmured. It was creepy how
easily that rolled off his tongue Ron thought as he gently eased his hand from under the
sleeping beauty (no, no not now!).
Once out of bed he rummaged around in his drawer for the magical amplifier. Locating a
silky robe he tugged it on over his nightgown, which had somehow ended up back on
him, a fact for which he was rather grateful. He was doing his best to concentrate but
certain other thoughts kept wriggling into his mind, distracting him. He deliberately left
off his slippers, hoping the cold of the bare stone floors would work to keep him alert.