Disclaimer:
I own neither Harry Potter nor any other character or creation of J. K. Rowling. Give her credit for the characters. Give me credit for the plot.
Notes:
Hello readers. This is my first attempt at a slash fic, and my second attempt at any kind of fan fiction ever. Constructive criticism is welcomed and flames discouraged. I hope you enjoy the tale.
Okay, I'm kind of drifting here when it comes to plot. I've been debating between having an adventurous plot in addition to the romance, but I'm not really an adventure author. I've been brainstorming a few ideas, and I'm going to go with the ones that stick. Where they will appear, I'm not sure. This chapter, for example, was half thought out, and half off the cuff. I'm not sure if I like it yet. But at least I can get a start on the next chapters. So there we go.
Please note that I do not have a beta, so all mistakes are my own.
Finally, thank you, reviewers. I am touched deeply by your kind words and hope to fufill your expectations. With that said, on with the next chapter. *smile*
Chapter 4
The susurrus of Draco's breathing echoed off of the decadently decorated walls of his chambers in the Potter residence. They kept the room decorated in a panoply of Slytherin style and color. It was always Draco's room during the many he made in the past. The room had never bothered him. On the contrary, he was gracious that his friends would be so indulgent towards him. Tonight, however, the silver and green tapestries seemed to close in around him. He flipped onto his side to spy the alarm clock on his nightstand. The time read 3:05. He watched as the second hand ticked its monotonously precise interstices until he realized the time now read 3:09. He groaned and flipped again, facing in the other direction—facing the door to his room. And that was the source of his problems. Out that door and across the hall, behind another door of similar shape, laid his heart's desire. The one that got away. "And I'm supposed to sleep?," Draco thought briskly. Still he closed his eyes and hoped for consciousness to fade away. Instead, memories of the evening played through his mind.
They had all regaled Ron with their favorite jokes, stories, and lessons from the war and their time together as friends afterwards. "We shared a lot of fun," mused Draco, "but I wonder what fun we could have had if Ron were with us." He had tried to memorize Ron at dinner inconspicuously, noting certain mannerisms and habits that added to the dragon tamer's charm. To Draco's embarrassment, he'd been caught at least twice by everyone at the table, earning coy smiles from Ginny, Harry biting his lip in amusement, and Ron raising his eyebrows in confusion or quickly looking away with blush staining his visage. Draco could tell that Ron could tell that there was something that he was missing something—something everyone else at the table knew but him. It added to the feel that Ron was annexed from the rest of the group. Ron hadn't appeared uncomfortable at dinner, aside from the disbelieving looks he threw in Draco's direction, but the whole atmosphere seemed to make Ron appear more isolated. Not apart of the group. "Alone," Draco said in the darkness, still staring at the door. He perceived no answer.
Groaning again, Draco flipped back onto his other side. Spying the clock, it traitorously read 3:20am. "To hell with this," Draco thought, "I'll not lie here like a corpse." With haste, he threw the covers off of his body and swung his legs over the side of the bed, searching blindly for his slippers. "I'll go and have a drink in the library. Or two. Or more, depending on necessity." He had a strange notion that the best remedy for tonight would be to get completely plastered. At least he'd end up asleep—somewhere in the house. Harry always found him, so it would be no matter. He stretched his arms above his head, the emerald silken pajamas sliding against his skin. Finally finding his slippers, he grabbed for his black silk robe, threw it on, and crept out of the room.
Draco turned around to close the door quietly. "No need to wake the whole house up," he thought. He turned back around only to focus, in the dim moonlit hall, on the door across from him. He froze for a moment. In the safety of his own room, he had thought and speculated about the door to the room, but faced with it, his body stilled with hesitation, spurned from fear of rejection and uncertainty. In a moment he stepped forward and placed his hands flat against the door, leaning his ear forward to listen for sounds from the interior. He heard nothing. "What the hell am I doing?," Draco asked himself, and stood up straight, shaking his head in aggravation. "Standing outside his door like a deranged stalker is not helping me get to sleep anymore than staring at the damned clock," he grumbled, then walked to the stairs.
He had no problem navigating his path through the home—he'd been there countless times before, and tonight was not the first he'd slipped out of his room for a nightcap. Not by a long shot. However, he was surprised at the warm glow he found as he approached the entrance to the Potter library. "Someone else is also awake," he thought, "but surely not for the same reasons as I." With a light ironic chuckle, he entered the room, fully expecting to find Harry, drink in hand, perusing his latest Quiddich playbook. He opened his mouth to speak before he realized the true occupant of the room. He focused on the face of Ron Weasley, and the words he was about to speak dissipated. His eyes widened, and his mind insisted, "This cannot be real."
"Oh, Malfoy," Ron said, surprise registering in his voice and on his features. "I guess you couldn't sleep either."
Draco made some noise that sounded distinctly like, "Uh...," and then finally answered, "No."
"What the fuck! The man's a fucking stupefying charm!" Draco sighed, but his mind perked at the ambiguous syntax of the statement. Brushing that thought aside, he told the half-truth, "I've been lying in bed for hours, tossing and turning, damning my clock. Mind if I sit down?"
He thought that Ron's skin may have flushed when he spoke, but it could have been the reflection the fire, and Ron turned his head as he said, "Not at all." As Draco sat down on the same couch as Ron, however, Ron rose and walked towards the library's mini bar. "I'm having another drink. You want one?"
Draco let out his breath and said, "Okay, Ron. What are you having?"
"What would you like?"
Draco tried not to let his expression change as he thought up numerous responses to the question. "I'll have straight vodka."
Ron smiled faintly. "You too?" He turned to the bar to prepare the drinks, but continued speaking, "I've always been fond of vodka myself. Not as sweet as butterbeer." He turned his head over his shoulder again with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And definitely not as weak."
Draco returned the light smile, careful not to look as extremely pleased as he felt. He kept control as soon as he realized the camaraderie that Ron was offering. "Friendship's definitely a start," he thought.
Ron returned with both drinks in hand. He handed one to Draco, and sat down in the chair to the left of him. Draco tried not to let the mild disappointment show as he held his glass in his hands. He also noted that Ron's hands trembled as he held his own glass.
Ron looked Draco with an intense expression. Draco opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when Ron's expression turned to one of perplexed amusement. "Ha," he said, closed his eyes, lifted his glass to his lips, and downed the liquid in one gulp. Draco widened his eyes, unsure of what to say. Ron answered Draco's expression with a goofy grin and saluted Draco with his empty glass. "You know," he said in a slurred voice, "if someone would have told me in my fourth year of Hogwarts that I'd end up sitting in my best friend's library getting drunk with Draco Malfoy, savior of the wizarding world, I would have either laughed my bloody arse off—either that or hexed the hell out of Trelawney." Ron laughed at his own joke.
"So that's what this is about," Draco mused in his mind, realization dawning. He placed a hand on Ron's knee as he began to stand to get another drink. Ron's eyes darted to where his hand was and followed his arm up to look into Draco's face. Trepidation was all over his Ron's expression.
"How many drinks did you have before I joined you, Ron?" Draco asked.
Ron's unease subsided to a blank expression that Draco couldn't read. Draco stared into those hazel eyes and watched them deepen to a golden hue in the firelight. Ron was the first to look away. He parted his lips and sighed. "Uh,...," he said, and removed Draco's hand as he continued to stand. He took a few steps towards the bar, then suddenly stumbled. Draco was up like a flash and at Ron's side. With a fierce hold of Ron's right arm, he led him back to the settee. Ron looked into Draco's face, blushed, and then chuckled. "Would you believe I don't remember how many I've had?"
Draco couldn't help the chuckle. "Never in a million years," he said sardonically. "Maybe vodka isn't the best choice right now."
Ron laughed drunkenly and slouched. "Vodka's always the best choice!"
Draco sighed. "If you say so, Weasley."
That brought Ron's gaze directly back to Draco's face. "Now that sounds more familiar."
"What does?"
"You called me 'Weasley'. All this 'Ron' shit is throwing off my equilibrium."
"Oh, so it's my fault, and not the vodka?"
Ron snorted and pointed his finger crookedly. "Exactly," he slurred with a lazy salute.
Draco could tell that all hopes for serious conversation were pointless. He asked his question again. "Could you give me an educated guess?"
"Of?"
"How many drinks have you had?"
Ron thought for a moment, looking befuddled. "And adorable," Draco's mind threw in, but he quickly hushed his subconscious.
"Honestly...one before this one."
Draco scoffed. "Just because I'm a Malfoy doesn't mean that you're okay to lie to me—,"
"I'm not lying! Honest!" Ron said, sitting up, conviction on his face. Then he had the grace to look discomfited. "I don't drink very often. The dragons don't take well to it. Not to mention that alcohol on your breath when dealing with fire-breathing creatures could be extremely hazardous...," Ron trailed off, his mind focusing on the dragons of Romania.
Draco looked at his hands. "You've a low tolerance," he said.
"Comes with the red hair. My whole family gets drunk very easily," Ron said, then laughed again. "Odd as it is, Ginny's the only one who can hold her liquor relatively well, and even she's worse than most people."
Draco chuckled. "Yes, I'd have to agree with you. Usually, it would take three drinks to get her as smashed as you are."
"Smashed?" Ron said in an injured tone. "I'm not smashed. Hell, I can't feel anything at all. That's the damn point, you know." He pointed at Draco again. "Its your bloody fault, anyway."
Draco's breath caught. "What's my fault?" he asked softly.
"I can't sleep. You're right across the bloody hallway, for gods sake! I mean...its you!" Ron paused and looked into Draco's face, leaning in closely. Draco held very still, hoping that Ron would explain what he meant.
"You threw off my equilibrium," Ron said again, leaning closer. His eyes were staring directly into Draco's, and he was mere inches away. Draco couldn't even trust himself to breathe, sitting much closely to a drunken Ron Weasley on a love seat. He froze.
"And then," Ron said, jerking himself away from Draco and continuing, "I was wandering through the halls and I just happened to stumble upon the room of Master Potter. Haven't they ever heard of a silencing charm? I'd rather not hear my best friend go down on my bloody sister!" Ron raised his hands to his eyes, trying to erase the mental picture.
Draco caught his escaping breath and sanity enough to be amused. He knew that Ginny and Harry were always a tad too loud when alone. He probably didn't mind it as much as Ron, though.
"Thank goodness I won't remember it come tomorrow morning," Ron said finally.
"What do you mean?" Draco said in a guarded tone.
"Aw, hell, when I'm this drunk, I never remember what happens."
"Really?" Draco said, simultaneously cursing himself for the direction that his mind instantly headed.
"Yup. Won't remember a bloody thing. Once in Romania, I woke up in Charlie's bed with Charlie sleeping in an easy chair, and the new bartender from the local pub at my side, naked as the day he was born. As was I! Imagine what went through my head!"
Draco almost fell over in surprise, but he had no trouble imagining, alright. "What went through your head, Ron?"
"What went through my head?? That I fucked the new bartender with my brother watching! Disturbing thought, it is."
Draco crossed his fingers. "Did you?"
"Nah," Ron said. Draco's face fell. Ron continued, "Charlie came in after we were sleeping."
That caught Draco's attention. "But you...you...,"
"Hell yeah I did. Bloody hell if I can remember it, though."
Draco's brow furrowed. "Then how do you know...,"
Ron smirked. "Its easy to tell. The bartender...fuck if I can remember his name, but he came crawling back for more. Offered me money, he did. People just aren't the same after they fuck me."
Draco had to laugh. "You're starting to sound like me."
Ron snorted. "To hell with you. I fuck better than a bloody Malfoy any day."
It was on the tip of Draco's tongue to provoke Ron to prove it, but then Ron finished the thought.
"Want me to prove it?"
Draco choked on his breath. His mind screamed, "Fuck yeah!" His conscious, however, led him in the right direction. "No, I'll take your word for it."
Ron pouted. "HOLY FUCK," Draco's mind screamed, "he actually pouted!"
"You're no fun," Ron sulked. "What's wrong? You would have done it before. I remember they said you'd have a go with anyone. What's wrong with me? Don't want to sleep with a Weasel, eh?" Ron's voice grew in drunken anger.
Draco sighed. "Ron," he began, "I am not the same as I was in school. Neither are you."
Ron leaned in closely again. Way too closely for Draco's comfort. "I know. You're much sexier now." With that, Ron licked his lips and kissed Draco deftly. Draco gasped in surprise, and Ron sucked on his lower lip. Driven senseless, Draco couldn't help leaping into the kiss.
A sense of unreality settled over Draco's mind as he sampled the taste of Ron, their tongues slowly sparing and passions growing. Draco could feel as Ron leaned in closer, ravishing Draco's mouth. Draco was in the midst of a fantasy that he always wanted to come true. Draco wanted Ron more than ever. And Draco pushed Ron off of him and gasped for breath, halting their kisses.
"I won't do this with you now," Draco said between heaving breaths, grasping desperately for control.
"Why not? It was a free shot. No memories, no nothing. Could have been fun," Ron replied. He sat up, yawned, and leaned back into his chair. Draco watched his eye lids slide closed. Ron had passed out.
Draco nudged Ron to see if he would stir, but Ron was not disturbed. In frustration, Draco put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, once again feeling its hopeless weight. He took a few moments to slow his pulse, and groaned in the realization that he had a raging hard on. He lifted his head and clenched his fists. He briskly walked to the bar and poured himself another drink. Promptly, he downed it. He shook his head, then walked for the exit. He paused in the doorway and looked at Ron's passed out form. "Fuck you, Weasley," he said, "you're not getting out of this that easily." He walked back to his chambers.
Do you wish to be notified of updates for this story?
Join the mailing list!
How?
1. Request it in a review.
2. E-mail me a request at songbird333@adelphia.net with
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I own neither Harry Potter nor any other character or creation of J. K. Rowling. Give her credit for the characters. Give me credit for the plot.
Notes:
Hello readers. This is my first attempt at a slash fic, and my second attempt at any kind of fan fiction ever. Constructive criticism is welcomed and flames discouraged. I hope you enjoy the tale.
Okay, I'm kind of drifting here when it comes to plot. I've been debating between having an adventurous plot in addition to the romance, but I'm not really an adventure author. I've been brainstorming a few ideas, and I'm going to go with the ones that stick. Where they will appear, I'm not sure. This chapter, for example, was half thought out, and half off the cuff. I'm not sure if I like it yet. But at least I can get a start on the next chapters. So there we go.
Please note that I do not have a beta, so all mistakes are my own.
Finally, thank you, reviewers. I am touched deeply by your kind words and hope to fufill your expectations. With that said, on with the next chapter. *smile*
The susurrus of Draco's breathing echoed off of the decadently decorated walls of his chambers in the Potter residence. They kept the room decorated in a panoply of Slytherin style and color. It was always Draco's room during the many he made in the past. The room had never bothered him. On the contrary, he was gracious that his friends would be so indulgent towards him. Tonight, however, the silver and green tapestries seemed to close in around him. He flipped onto his side to spy the alarm clock on his nightstand. The time read 3:05. He watched as the second hand ticked its monotonously precise interstices until he realized the time now read 3:09. He groaned and flipped again, facing in the other direction—facing the door to his room. And that was the source of his problems. Out that door and across the hall, behind another door of similar shape, laid his heart's desire. The one that got away. "And I'm supposed to sleep?," Draco thought briskly. Still he closed his eyes and hoped for consciousness to fade away. Instead, memories of the evening played through his mind.
They had all regaled Ron with their favorite jokes, stories, and lessons from the war and their time together as friends afterwards. "We shared a lot of fun," mused Draco, "but I wonder what fun we could have had if Ron were with us." He had tried to memorize Ron at dinner inconspicuously, noting certain mannerisms and habits that added to the dragon tamer's charm. To Draco's embarrassment, he'd been caught at least twice by everyone at the table, earning coy smiles from Ginny, Harry biting his lip in amusement, and Ron raising his eyebrows in confusion or quickly looking away with blush staining his visage. Draco could tell that Ron could tell that there was something that he was missing something—something everyone else at the table knew but him. It added to the feel that Ron was annexed from the rest of the group. Ron hadn't appeared uncomfortable at dinner, aside from the disbelieving looks he threw in Draco's direction, but the whole atmosphere seemed to make Ron appear more isolated. Not apart of the group. "Alone," Draco said in the darkness, still staring at the door. He perceived no answer.
Groaning again, Draco flipped back onto his other side. Spying the clock, it traitorously read 3:20am. "To hell with this," Draco thought, "I'll not lie here like a corpse." With haste, he threw the covers off of his body and swung his legs over the side of the bed, searching blindly for his slippers. "I'll go and have a drink in the library. Or two. Or more, depending on necessity." He had a strange notion that the best remedy for tonight would be to get completely plastered. At least he'd end up asleep—somewhere in the house. Harry always found him, so it would be no matter. He stretched his arms above his head, the emerald silken pajamas sliding against his skin. Finally finding his slippers, he grabbed for his black silk robe, threw it on, and crept out of the room.
Draco turned around to close the door quietly. "No need to wake the whole house up," he thought. He turned back around only to focus, in the dim moonlit hall, on the door across from him. He froze for a moment. In the safety of his own room, he had thought and speculated about the door to the room, but faced with it, his body stilled with hesitation, spurned from fear of rejection and uncertainty. In a moment he stepped forward and placed his hands flat against the door, leaning his ear forward to listen for sounds from the interior. He heard nothing. "What the hell am I doing?," Draco asked himself, and stood up straight, shaking his head in aggravation. "Standing outside his door like a deranged stalker is not helping me get to sleep anymore than staring at the damned clock," he grumbled, then walked to the stairs.
He had no problem navigating his path through the home—he'd been there countless times before, and tonight was not the first he'd slipped out of his room for a nightcap. Not by a long shot. However, he was surprised at the warm glow he found as he approached the entrance to the Potter library. "Someone else is also awake," he thought, "but surely not for the same reasons as I." With a light ironic chuckle, he entered the room, fully expecting to find Harry, drink in hand, perusing his latest Quiddich playbook. He opened his mouth to speak before he realized the true occupant of the room. He focused on the face of Ron Weasley, and the words he was about to speak dissipated. His eyes widened, and his mind insisted, "This cannot be real."
"Oh, Malfoy," Ron said, surprise registering in his voice and on his features. "I guess you couldn't sleep either."
Draco made some noise that sounded distinctly like, "Uh...," and then finally answered, "No."
"What the fuck! The man's a fucking stupefying charm!" Draco sighed, but his mind perked at the ambiguous syntax of the statement. Brushing that thought aside, he told the half-truth, "I've been lying in bed for hours, tossing and turning, damning my clock. Mind if I sit down?"
He thought that Ron's skin may have flushed when he spoke, but it could have been the reflection the fire, and Ron turned his head as he said, "Not at all." As Draco sat down on the same couch as Ron, however, Ron rose and walked towards the library's mini bar. "I'm having another drink. You want one?"
Draco let out his breath and said, "Okay, Ron. What are you having?"
"What would you like?"
Draco tried not to let his expression change as he thought up numerous responses to the question. "I'll have straight vodka."
Ron smiled faintly. "You too?" He turned to the bar to prepare the drinks, but continued speaking, "I've always been fond of vodka myself. Not as sweet as butterbeer." He turned his head over his shoulder again with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And definitely not as weak."
Draco returned the light smile, careful not to look as extremely pleased as he felt. He kept control as soon as he realized the camaraderie that Ron was offering. "Friendship's definitely a start," he thought.
Ron returned with both drinks in hand. He handed one to Draco, and sat down in the chair to the left of him. Draco tried not to let the mild disappointment show as he held his glass in his hands. He also noted that Ron's hands trembled as he held his own glass.
Ron looked Draco with an intense expression. Draco opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when Ron's expression turned to one of perplexed amusement. "Ha," he said, closed his eyes, lifted his glass to his lips, and downed the liquid in one gulp. Draco widened his eyes, unsure of what to say. Ron answered Draco's expression with a goofy grin and saluted Draco with his empty glass. "You know," he said in a slurred voice, "if someone would have told me in my fourth year of Hogwarts that I'd end up sitting in my best friend's library getting drunk with Draco Malfoy, savior of the wizarding world, I would have either laughed my bloody arse off—either that or hexed the hell out of Trelawney." Ron laughed at his own joke.
"So that's what this is about," Draco mused in his mind, realization dawning. He placed a hand on Ron's knee as he began to stand to get another drink. Ron's eyes darted to where his hand was and followed his arm up to look into Draco's face. Trepidation was all over his Ron's expression.
"How many drinks did you have before I joined you, Ron?" Draco asked.
Ron's unease subsided to a blank expression that Draco couldn't read. Draco stared into those hazel eyes and watched them deepen to a golden hue in the firelight. Ron was the first to look away. He parted his lips and sighed. "Uh,...," he said, and removed Draco's hand as he continued to stand. He took a few steps towards the bar, then suddenly stumbled. Draco was up like a flash and at Ron's side. With a fierce hold of Ron's right arm, he led him back to the settee. Ron looked into Draco's face, blushed, and then chuckled. "Would you believe I don't remember how many I've had?"
Draco couldn't help the chuckle. "Never in a million years," he said sardonically. "Maybe vodka isn't the best choice right now."
Ron laughed drunkenly and slouched. "Vodka's always the best choice!"
Draco sighed. "If you say so, Weasley."
That brought Ron's gaze directly back to Draco's face. "Now that sounds more familiar."
"What does?"
"You called me 'Weasley'. All this 'Ron' shit is throwing off my equilibrium."
"Oh, so it's my fault, and not the vodka?"
Ron snorted and pointed his finger crookedly. "Exactly," he slurred with a lazy salute.
Draco could tell that all hopes for serious conversation were pointless. He asked his question again. "Could you give me an educated guess?"
"Of?"
"How many drinks have you had?"
Ron thought for a moment, looking befuddled. "And adorable," Draco's mind threw in, but he quickly hushed his subconscious.
"Honestly...one before this one."
Draco scoffed. "Just because I'm a Malfoy doesn't mean that you're okay to lie to me—,"
"I'm not lying! Honest!" Ron said, sitting up, conviction on his face. Then he had the grace to look discomfited. "I don't drink very often. The dragons don't take well to it. Not to mention that alcohol on your breath when dealing with fire-breathing creatures could be extremely hazardous...," Ron trailed off, his mind focusing on the dragons of Romania.
Draco looked at his hands. "You've a low tolerance," he said.
"Comes with the red hair. My whole family gets drunk very easily," Ron said, then laughed again. "Odd as it is, Ginny's the only one who can hold her liquor relatively well, and even she's worse than most people."
Draco chuckled. "Yes, I'd have to agree with you. Usually, it would take three drinks to get her as smashed as you are."
"Smashed?" Ron said in an injured tone. "I'm not smashed. Hell, I can't feel anything at all. That's the damn point, you know." He pointed at Draco again. "Its your bloody fault, anyway."
Draco's breath caught. "What's my fault?" he asked softly.
"I can't sleep. You're right across the bloody hallway, for gods sake! I mean...its you!" Ron paused and looked into Draco's face, leaning in closely. Draco held very still, hoping that Ron would explain what he meant.
"You threw off my equilibrium," Ron said again, leaning closer. His eyes were staring directly into Draco's, and he was mere inches away. Draco couldn't even trust himself to breathe, sitting much closely to a drunken Ron Weasley on a love seat. He froze.
"And then," Ron said, jerking himself away from Draco and continuing, "I was wandering through the halls and I just happened to stumble upon the room of Master Potter. Haven't they ever heard of a silencing charm? I'd rather not hear my best friend go down on my bloody sister!" Ron raised his hands to his eyes, trying to erase the mental picture.
Draco caught his escaping breath and sanity enough to be amused. He knew that Ginny and Harry were always a tad too loud when alone. He probably didn't mind it as much as Ron, though.
"Thank goodness I won't remember it come tomorrow morning," Ron said finally.
"What do you mean?" Draco said in a guarded tone.
"Aw, hell, when I'm this drunk, I never remember what happens."
"Really?" Draco said, simultaneously cursing himself for the direction that his mind instantly headed.
"Yup. Won't remember a bloody thing. Once in Romania, I woke up in Charlie's bed with Charlie sleeping in an easy chair, and the new bartender from the local pub at my side, naked as the day he was born. As was I! Imagine what went through my head!"
Draco almost fell over in surprise, but he had no trouble imagining, alright. "What went through your head, Ron?"
"What went through my head?? That I fucked the new bartender with my brother watching! Disturbing thought, it is."
Draco crossed his fingers. "Did you?"
"Nah," Ron said. Draco's face fell. Ron continued, "Charlie came in after we were sleeping."
That caught Draco's attention. "But you...you...,"
"Hell yeah I did. Bloody hell if I can remember it, though."
Draco's brow furrowed. "Then how do you know...,"
Ron smirked. "Its easy to tell. The bartender...fuck if I can remember his name, but he came crawling back for more. Offered me money, he did. People just aren't the same after they fuck me."
Draco had to laugh. "You're starting to sound like me."
Ron snorted. "To hell with you. I fuck better than a bloody Malfoy any day."
It was on the tip of Draco's tongue to provoke Ron to prove it, but then Ron finished the thought.
"Want me to prove it?"
Draco choked on his breath. His mind screamed, "Fuck yeah!" His conscious, however, led him in the right direction. "No, I'll take your word for it."
Ron pouted. "HOLY FUCK," Draco's mind screamed, "he actually pouted!"
"You're no fun," Ron sulked. "What's wrong? You would have done it before. I remember they said you'd have a go with anyone. What's wrong with me? Don't want to sleep with a Weasel, eh?" Ron's voice grew in drunken anger.
Draco sighed. "Ron," he began, "I am not the same as I was in school. Neither are you."
Ron leaned in closely again. Way too closely for Draco's comfort. "I know. You're much sexier now." With that, Ron licked his lips and kissed Draco deftly. Draco gasped in surprise, and Ron sucked on his lower lip. Driven senseless, Draco couldn't help leaping into the kiss.
A sense of unreality settled over Draco's mind as he sampled the taste of Ron, their tongues slowly sparing and passions growing. Draco could feel as Ron leaned in closer, ravishing Draco's mouth. Draco was in the midst of a fantasy that he always wanted to come true. Draco wanted Ron more than ever. And Draco pushed Ron off of him and gasped for breath, halting their kisses.
"I won't do this with you now," Draco said between heaving breaths, grasping desperately for control.
"Why not? It was a free shot. No memories, no nothing. Could have been fun," Ron replied. He sat up, yawned, and leaned back into his chair. Draco watched his eye lids slide closed. Ron had passed out.
Draco nudged Ron to see if he would stir, but Ron was not disturbed. In frustration, Draco put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, once again feeling its hopeless weight. He took a few moments to slow his pulse, and groaned in the realization that he had a raging hard on. He lifted his head and clenched his fists. He briskly walked to the bar and poured himself another drink. Promptly, he downed it. He shook his head, then walked for the exit. He paused in the doorway and looked at Ron's passed out form. "Fuck you, Weasley," he said, "you're not getting out of this that easily." He walked back to his chambers.
Join the mailing list!
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