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:
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 think it's been about two weeks since my last update. I've been worse, so I'm not complaining. The boys are warming up, along with my idea for a mild plot, thank goodness. I haven't been sure where this story was going to end up, but now I have a destination in mind to write to. Its a good feeling. I'm down to one job again, but school is starting soon. I hope it will not affect my writing, and I'll try to not let it.
Please note that I do not have a beta, so all mistakes are my own.
To my readers, my favorite people in the world, thank you thank you thank you.
Chapter 7
Knock, knock, knock.
"What the hell...who is it?"
"What do you mean who is it? This is my damn house! Now say come in so I can yell at you."
Draco groaned. Ginny could lecture with the best of them. It must be genetic, he thought as he meekly replied, "Come in."
The door swung open and Ginny stepped in only to sniff her disapproval. The room was completely dark. She heard Draco murmur, "God, what time is it?" as she marched over to the windows. With a brisk motion, she opened the black curtains and sunlight exploded into the room. "Fuck!" was Draco's complaint as she marched to the next window. In seconds, the dark room was filled with light. Ginny turned around. "Jesus, Draco, put on some pants," she said wryly.
"Pants?" All Draco could do was question he squinted his eyes against the offending sunlight. Rather than searching for clothing, though, Draco reached his arm to the nightstand and fumbled around. "Where the hell is my wand..."
Ginny walked over and picked it up from where it had rolled to on the floor. "Here."
An incantation and a few moments later, Draco risked opening his eyes. At least he could think clearly. He looked around and found that Ginny's assessment was correct—he wore no pants. He looked up and saw Ginny, arms crossed and waiting impatiently. "What are you waiting for?" she demanded.
Draco smirked. "What, no privacy? If Harry isn't doing it for you anymore..."
Ginny scoffed. "Hurry up, you. I prefer to converse while both parties are fully clothed."
"Really?" Draco cocked his head. "That's not what Harry tells me..."
"Hurry up, you!"
Draco snickered as he got up to find his pants. He didn't even remember taking them off again. Now putting them back on to go into the hallway, that he remembered. Being in the hallway...running back into his room. Now there's a memory that requires more thought...
Draco finally found his pants, which were cast behind the couch. He put them on and passed Ginny to sit on the bed again.
"Whew!" Ginny exclaimed. "You know, you are allowed to pass a day without saturating yourself in alcohol."
Draco looked down and shrugged.
"Draco, honey," Ginny moved to sit beside him. "This isn't like you. I haven't seen you this despondent since the war."
Draco snorted and sharply motioned at his own door, intending the door across from it. Ginny sighed and nodded.
"You guys are real sadists for putting him across the hall."
Ginny bit her lip in a smile. "Well...we were just trying to make him more...accessible."
"Accessible?? Hell with accessible, this is downright dangerous for Ron's health! Do you know how many times a day I plan on crossing the hall with the intention of fucking the freckles off of him?"
Ginny had to laugh. "Seriously, Draco...the freckles?"
"Gah, even his damn freckles won't get out of my head. I'm going insane."
Ginny shook her head. "Well, neither of you has made the attempt to be the least bit sociable to each other, or anyone else in the house, for that matter. You're being a bad house guest, Draco Malfoy. Tsk tsk. All you and Ron do is brood in your rooms or get drunk and snog in my library!"
"If we did that more often, then I wouldn't have half the problems I do now."
"Draco! Talk to the boy! Have a conversation! Stop drinking yourself to misery—it is scary."
Draco crossed his arms and huffed. He hated to admit it, but Ginny was absolutely right. It was ridiculous of him to isolate himself in his rooms and drink. He was among his closest friends, and never had reason to behave like this before. Look what Weasley is doing, Draco thought, it's almost as if he planned it, it's so akin to a prank at Hogwarts. Damn, he was being foolish.
"Okay, okay, fine," Draco admitted to Ginny, "I'm acting totally out of turn. But can you blame me? I mean, my God, you know how long I've wanted Ron. You've complained about it often enough."
At that remark, Ginny smiled. "True. You're wasting your chance, Draco. Who knows when another will come?"
"All too correct. I'll stop acting the hermit." Draco glanced at the windows, then asked, "What time is it, anyway?"
"It's nine o'clock. You can ready yourself for the morning and join us for luncheon at noon. How does that sound?"
Draco smiled. "Noon it is."
********************************
Imagine the luck, Draco thought as he descended the stairs to watch a tall redhead enter into the living room. He had paused to watch silently, tracking his prey skillfully, planning the attack. Some attack, he thought, I'm going to walk in and converse. Chuckling to himself, he continued his decent and entered the living room. He refused his legs the luxury of shaking nervously.
"Good morning, Sir Weasley," he said jocularly, intent on forgoing the phantasmagoria of their last few meetings. Keep it light, keep it light, he repeated in his head.
Ron looked up at Draco's entry. Recognizing the greeting's source, Draco was curious to watch a pleasant blush begin to stain the boy's freckled face. I'd like to taste that, his rogue libido interjected, only to be suffocated by logic. It seemed that Ron, rather than respond, preferred to stare, fighting the embarrassment that attempted to show on his features. It wasn't until Draco lifted a slim eyebrow that Ron remembered himself.
"Oh, ah, ahem, yes. Good morning,...Draco." Ron looked away guiltily.
Odd, Draco thought, and with a smirk, sat down on the settee next to Ron, not exactly close, but not far away. "See, now, that wasn't so hard." Ron only nodded and shuffled with the newspaper that was in his hands. Moving on, Draco questioned, "So, how was your evening?" Ron's eyes widened and, if at all possible, his blush developed into a deeper crimson. Guilt was practically written on his forehead. Odd indeed, thought Draco, and took the bait.
"My, how guilty you look. Was it fun, or have you been a bad boy?" he asked, his tone light but taunting.
"You really are evil, you know that?"
Draco was thrown by that comment. What could he have been up to last night to earn this reaction, and what does it have to do with me, he wondered. It was time to pry.
"I'm evil? Why do you say that?"
"You know very well why." Ron refused to look at Draco.
Draco chuckled. "If I knew, why would I ask?"
"You mean...you don't know?"
"Jesus, Ron, I was drunk in my room for the entire evening. Passed out, even."
Ron looked up, concerned. "Passed out? Drunk? Why'd you do that?"
Draco thought for a second, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. After a moment, he replied, "I suppose I was just in the mood." Then he looked away.
"You suppose?"
Draco didn't like where this was heading. "Yes, I suppose...and didn't you do the same a bit ago?" Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Draco interrupted. "Oh wait—I forgot. You don't remember."
The blush that had been leaving Ron's countenance immediately made a U-turn. It was his turn to open his mouth and then close it again, unsure of what to say. Wow, Draco thought, this is too much fun. He couldn't stop himself from digging deeper, even if he tried.
"Here, I've got an idea. A game, really. I'll sit here an guess what you did, and you can tell me if I'm right or wrong."
Mortified, Ron replied, "I'm not telling you one bloody thing!"
"Oh really? Fine then. I'll ask anyway, and judge by how much you blush."
Ron looked shocked.
"Let's see then...did it involve Harry?"
"It most certainly did not!"
"I thought you weren't going to answer," Draco drawled, amused. "If not Harry, did it involve...me?"
Ron's eyes widened and he gasped, and most certainly, his flush grew. Draco was intrigued, and displayed his victory with a triumphant grin. Ron growled and jumped to his feet.
"I refuse to let this go any further. If you don't stop, I'll leave!"
Draco considered. He'd already found out that, whatever Ron did, he was on Ron's mind—definitely a positive thing. I can live with that, Draco thought, and set to placating Ron.
"Alright, fine, Sir Dragon Tamer. I'll stop, for I don't want to risk losing your company," and Draco smiled charmingly.
Hesitant, and still rose-hued, Ron sat down. He was still discomfited by Draco's teasing, but—honestly—the last thing he wanted to do was run out on the man. Quite the opposite, actually, Ron thought as he eased back onto the settee. Automatically, but a bit weakly, Ron replied, "There's no such thing as a dragon tamer."
Draco only raised his eyebrows, then moved on. "What's interesting in the world of wizarding today?" he asked.
"What?" replied a dazed Ron. Draco motioned towards the newspaper in his hands and tried to keep the smug smile off of his face. There's absolutely something here, he thought excitedly, and I can't wait to find out exactly what.
"Oh! The newspaper...," Ron said, bumbling with it in his hands. "It's been so long since I've read one. I stopped ordering them a while ago—,"
"You did? Why? I'd think that being so far away would make you want to keep up on current events, especially during the war."
Ron looked thoughtful. "Actually, it was somewhat the opposite." He looked at Draco, who returned his gaze expectantly. Ron sighed and continued, "When I moved to Romania...I dunno...I felt separated from the rest of the wizarding community. Charlie kept up with the times. He even took trips once in a while to London or to the Burrow, just to keep up. Me...I dunno. When I'm with the dragons, it's just me and them. Nothing else matters. They won't let anything else matter."
"But what about the time you're not with the dragons?" Draco asked softly.
"It's...lonely."
Odd, how a strong man who stood over six foot tall could so easily look like a forlorn child. Draco stared at Ron and wanted—so badly—to reach out and comfort, to hold and love. This was new territory, however. Ron's vulnerability was surprising—almost as much as Draco's urge to soothe and protect. God, I've never before felt this way, Draco thought, and yet I've always wanted to feel this way.
Silent moments passed. Ron was too deep in his isolation to notice. When he did, though, he raised his eyes to Draco's. The depth that he found made him gasp and look away, his pulse accelerating. Draco realized it and abruptly cleared his throat. He thought wildly of a safe conversational transition, but Ron saved him by speaking.
"Well, anyway, all I was doing was checking out the prospects for the Cannons," he said with an innocently.
"Really? What do they say?" Draco was inwardly delighted at Ron's interest in the Cannons, and thought of it as his ace in the hole.
"They say that this season should be phenomenal, what with Harry. And that silent partner, too." Ron leaned over and whispered as if sharing a secret, "You know, the Cannons are my favorite team."
Draco, pleased at the ruse, replied in turn, "Is that so?" Ron nodded conspiratorially. "Yep. And it is killing me, not knowing who the silent partner is. I've known everything about that team for years, but this silent partner deal?" He leaned back and shrugged. Returning to a normal tone, he said, "I can't begin to think of who it could be. Harry, good friend he is, refuses to tell me." With that, Ron leaned back further on the settee and—to the dismay of Draco's libido—pouted. It took every restraint to not lean forward and taste. It was then Draco formed an idea.
"Harry didn't tell you?" Draco asked in a dismayed tone. Ron shook his head. "Well, what would you say if I told you I knew?"
Something flickered in Ron's eyes as he fought to keep the smirk off of his face. "I'd say you were lying."
"Lying? Me? Not at all. I swear...," Draco looked around for something to swear upon, "I swear upon my wand that I do know who the silent partner is."
"Really?" Ron baited the blond man. "Would you tell me?"
"Well, I don't know...he is silent for a reason...,"
"Please?" Ron smiled playfully.
"Well, how about a deal? If I tell you who the silent partner is...,"
"Yes?"
"Then you'll have to tell me what you did last night that has to do with me."
Draco was smugly amused. Ron looked like he'd been slapped.
"What?" He said, his voice raising.
"I've set my price. You go first."
Ron looked around uneasily. His game suddenly gone awry, he had nowhere else to turn. "Um," he said, "No. You go first."
Draco grinned evilly. "Fine. You want the silent partner?" Ron gasped, but Draco continued, "You got him. I'm the silent owner."
Weakly, Ron said, "You are not," trying to deter the conversation.
"I am so! Want to see the paperwork?"
"No, no..."
"Fine, then, it's your turn."
"Me? Um...,"
"Yes?" Draco smirked. Ron's blush was delicious, and he couldn't help putting it there as often as possible.
"I was...um...IsawHarryandGinnymakingout," he said in a rush. Draco noted that his blush didn't deepen—rather, it began to subside.
"Liar. Tell the truth."
"I am telling the truth!" Ron insisted, but the flush began to creep back up his neck.
"You were not. Your blushing is the best lie detector I've ever seen."
Ron couldn't think of a way out. He knew he was the worst liar on the planet, and there was nothing he could do. "Fine...I was...trying to save you the embarrassment."
"Me?" Draco drawled, "Why is that?"
"Cause I saw you stumbling around your room yesterday. Drunk."
Draco chuckled. "Nude."
Ron flinched. "Yes. I...thought you would be embarrassed,...so I slammed your door and went...to the library."
Draco watched Ron closely, then smiled again. "Liar."
"Okay, fine! I went to my room! Are you happy?"
Draco chuckled. "And what did you do there?"
Ron froze, a stunned expression on his face. There was no way he was admitting that, there was no way he was saying that aloud, and there was absolutely no way he was telling Draco.
Draco noted this reaction, and concentrated on remembering the evening before...being out in the hall...Ron's doorway...and suddenly, it hit him. By God, like lightning, realization seeped through, and Draco wanted to laugh hysterically, wanted to jump around the room, wanted to roar gloriously at his insane luck. The blushing, the gazing, the embarrassment—it was Draco's dream come true, and he thanked every last one of those damnable lucky stars in the sky as he leaned his way closer.
Mere inches from Ron's shocked face, he whispered, "You have been a bad boy...," and closed the distance, lips meeting.
Ron gasped, still stunned. Draco. Lips. And then the thunder of realization, and Ron wrapped his arms around Draco, gasping. The only thought on his mind—more.
Draco smiled against Ron's lips as he felt Ron begin to respond, and he placed one hand on Ron's bicep, the other flat against his chest, feeling the depth of his breaths, the strength of his muscles, the expanse of his skin below a layer of cotton. Sensation ripped even stronger desires from Draco's mind as he began to caress. Ron had begun to stroke the length of the blonde's spine, and Draco needed more contact.
Adjusting quickly, Ron found Draco between his denim clad knees, and gasped roughly at the sensation, throwing his head back, breaking their kiss. Oh my God, he thought, this is happening, this is really happening, God, do I want this to happen—and then Draco's lips whispered across his jaw line to find his pulse and suck. Ron moaned and couldn't help the upward jerk of his hips, which created such a sinuous friction—he gasped as Draco groaned against his neck and thrust back down forcefully. "God," Ron said on a breath, and urged Draco's head back up. Lips met again. Draco sucked on Ron's lower lip, tempting them to open further.
Draco's head was swimming as Ron skillfully used his tongue to explore. He almost lost his mind when Ron caught his tongue and sucked. Draco's hands rushed to Ron's hips as he thrust down again mindlessly, searching, needing. His hand drifted to the crotch of Ron's tented jeans, and gripped. Ron gasped again and halted his assault, allowing Draco to take over. He was so hot...so close...
"Ahem! Boys!" a feminine voice sounded, and it took all of Ron's power to tear his lips away to find the voice's source.
"Ginny!" Ron gasped, dazed.
"Ginny...," Draco growled.
"Well, excuse me, but you are in my living room. My respectable living room."
Ron was still dazed, still throbbing. He blinked a few times, and found himself on his back on the settee, Draco sprawled over top of him, their hips positioned just so...Ron lost his focus at the realization and almost groaned again.
Ginny continued. "Anywho, lunch will be served in 15 minutes."
"Damn it," Draco said under his breath, but replied, "Okay, thank you Ginny. We'll be there momentarily."
"I'm sure you will," she said, "and no shagging in my living room." Then she turned and left.
"Bloody hell," Ron whispered, and Draco looked down. The sight made him want to dive back in, but he reigned in his passion and rose to his feet. He reached down and pulled Ron to his feet, then pushed him out the doorway to the stairs.
"Its best we shower before lunch," Draco said, and Ron simply nodded and began to climb the stairs. Draco couldn't tear his eyes away as he watched—that arse! When they finally reached their rooms, Draco stopped Ron and pulled his head down for a deep kiss. Breaking it, he put his forehead on Ron's and said, "Oh, this is far from over." Ron gulped and nodded. Draco replied, "Okay, so long as you know that." He sighed, took one last look at Ron, and then went to his room. Ron stood there for a moment, then did the same, bracing himself for the icy shower to come.
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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.
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 think it's been about two weeks since my last update. I've been worse, so I'm not complaining. The boys are warming up, along with my idea for a mild plot, thank goodness. I haven't been sure where this story was going to end up, but now I have a destination in mind to write to. Its a good feeling. I'm down to one job again, but school is starting soon. I hope it will not affect my writing, and I'll try to not let it.
Please note that I do not have a beta, so all mistakes are my own.
To my readers, my favorite people in the world, thank you thank you thank you.
Knock, knock, knock.
"What the hell...who is it?"
"What do you mean who is it? This is my damn house! Now say come in so I can yell at you."
Draco groaned. Ginny could lecture with the best of them. It must be genetic, he thought as he meekly replied, "Come in."
The door swung open and Ginny stepped in only to sniff her disapproval. The room was completely dark. She heard Draco murmur, "God, what time is it?" as she marched over to the windows. With a brisk motion, she opened the black curtains and sunlight exploded into the room. "Fuck!" was Draco's complaint as she marched to the next window. In seconds, the dark room was filled with light. Ginny turned around. "Jesus, Draco, put on some pants," she said wryly.
"Pants?" All Draco could do was question he squinted his eyes against the offending sunlight. Rather than searching for clothing, though, Draco reached his arm to the nightstand and fumbled around. "Where the hell is my wand..."
Ginny walked over and picked it up from where it had rolled to on the floor. "Here."
An incantation and a few moments later, Draco risked opening his eyes. At least he could think clearly. He looked around and found that Ginny's assessment was correct—he wore no pants. He looked up and saw Ginny, arms crossed and waiting impatiently. "What are you waiting for?" she demanded.
Draco smirked. "What, no privacy? If Harry isn't doing it for you anymore..."
Ginny scoffed. "Hurry up, you. I prefer to converse while both parties are fully clothed."
"Really?" Draco cocked his head. "That's not what Harry tells me..."
"Hurry up, you!"
Draco snickered as he got up to find his pants. He didn't even remember taking them off again. Now putting them back on to go into the hallway, that he remembered. Being in the hallway...running back into his room. Now there's a memory that requires more thought...
Draco finally found his pants, which were cast behind the couch. He put them on and passed Ginny to sit on the bed again.
"Whew!" Ginny exclaimed. "You know, you are allowed to pass a day without saturating yourself in alcohol."
Draco looked down and shrugged.
"Draco, honey," Ginny moved to sit beside him. "This isn't like you. I haven't seen you this despondent since the war."
Draco snorted and sharply motioned at his own door, intending the door across from it. Ginny sighed and nodded.
"You guys are real sadists for putting him across the hall."
Ginny bit her lip in a smile. "Well...we were just trying to make him more...accessible."
"Accessible?? Hell with accessible, this is downright dangerous for Ron's health! Do you know how many times a day I plan on crossing the hall with the intention of fucking the freckles off of him?"
Ginny had to laugh. "Seriously, Draco...the freckles?"
"Gah, even his damn freckles won't get out of my head. I'm going insane."
Ginny shook her head. "Well, neither of you has made the attempt to be the least bit sociable to each other, or anyone else in the house, for that matter. You're being a bad house guest, Draco Malfoy. Tsk tsk. All you and Ron do is brood in your rooms or get drunk and snog in my library!"
"If we did that more often, then I wouldn't have half the problems I do now."
"Draco! Talk to the boy! Have a conversation! Stop drinking yourself to misery—it is scary."
Draco crossed his arms and huffed. He hated to admit it, but Ginny was absolutely right. It was ridiculous of him to isolate himself in his rooms and drink. He was among his closest friends, and never had reason to behave like this before. Look what Weasley is doing, Draco thought, it's almost as if he planned it, it's so akin to a prank at Hogwarts. Damn, he was being foolish.
"Okay, okay, fine," Draco admitted to Ginny, "I'm acting totally out of turn. But can you blame me? I mean, my God, you know how long I've wanted Ron. You've complained about it often enough."
At that remark, Ginny smiled. "True. You're wasting your chance, Draco. Who knows when another will come?"
"All too correct. I'll stop acting the hermit." Draco glanced at the windows, then asked, "What time is it, anyway?"
"It's nine o'clock. You can ready yourself for the morning and join us for luncheon at noon. How does that sound?"
Draco smiled. "Noon it is."
Imagine the luck, Draco thought as he descended the stairs to watch a tall redhead enter into the living room. He had paused to watch silently, tracking his prey skillfully, planning the attack. Some attack, he thought, I'm going to walk in and converse. Chuckling to himself, he continued his decent and entered the living room. He refused his legs the luxury of shaking nervously.
"Good morning, Sir Weasley," he said jocularly, intent on forgoing the phantasmagoria of their last few meetings. Keep it light, keep it light, he repeated in his head.
Ron looked up at Draco's entry. Recognizing the greeting's source, Draco was curious to watch a pleasant blush begin to stain the boy's freckled face. I'd like to taste that, his rogue libido interjected, only to be suffocated by logic. It seemed that Ron, rather than respond, preferred to stare, fighting the embarrassment that attempted to show on his features. It wasn't until Draco lifted a slim eyebrow that Ron remembered himself.
"Oh, ah, ahem, yes. Good morning,...Draco." Ron looked away guiltily.
Odd, Draco thought, and with a smirk, sat down on the settee next to Ron, not exactly close, but not far away. "See, now, that wasn't so hard." Ron only nodded and shuffled with the newspaper that was in his hands. Moving on, Draco questioned, "So, how was your evening?" Ron's eyes widened and, if at all possible, his blush developed into a deeper crimson. Guilt was practically written on his forehead. Odd indeed, thought Draco, and took the bait.
"My, how guilty you look. Was it fun, or have you been a bad boy?" he asked, his tone light but taunting.
"You really are evil, you know that?"
Draco was thrown by that comment. What could he have been up to last night to earn this reaction, and what does it have to do with me, he wondered. It was time to pry.
"I'm evil? Why do you say that?"
"You know very well why." Ron refused to look at Draco.
Draco chuckled. "If I knew, why would I ask?"
"You mean...you don't know?"
"Jesus, Ron, I was drunk in my room for the entire evening. Passed out, even."
Ron looked up, concerned. "Passed out? Drunk? Why'd you do that?"
Draco thought for a second, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. After a moment, he replied, "I suppose I was just in the mood." Then he looked away.
"You suppose?"
Draco didn't like where this was heading. "Yes, I suppose...and didn't you do the same a bit ago?" Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Draco interrupted. "Oh wait—I forgot. You don't remember."
The blush that had been leaving Ron's countenance immediately made a U-turn. It was his turn to open his mouth and then close it again, unsure of what to say. Wow, Draco thought, this is too much fun. He couldn't stop himself from digging deeper, even if he tried.
"Here, I've got an idea. A game, really. I'll sit here an guess what you did, and you can tell me if I'm right or wrong."
Mortified, Ron replied, "I'm not telling you one bloody thing!"
"Oh really? Fine then. I'll ask anyway, and judge by how much you blush."
Ron looked shocked.
"Let's see then...did it involve Harry?"
"It most certainly did not!"
"I thought you weren't going to answer," Draco drawled, amused. "If not Harry, did it involve...me?"
Ron's eyes widened and he gasped, and most certainly, his flush grew. Draco was intrigued, and displayed his victory with a triumphant grin. Ron growled and jumped to his feet.
"I refuse to let this go any further. If you don't stop, I'll leave!"
Draco considered. He'd already found out that, whatever Ron did, he was on Ron's mind—definitely a positive thing. I can live with that, Draco thought, and set to placating Ron.
"Alright, fine, Sir Dragon Tamer. I'll stop, for I don't want to risk losing your company," and Draco smiled charmingly.
Hesitant, and still rose-hued, Ron sat down. He was still discomfited by Draco's teasing, but—honestly—the last thing he wanted to do was run out on the man. Quite the opposite, actually, Ron thought as he eased back onto the settee. Automatically, but a bit weakly, Ron replied, "There's no such thing as a dragon tamer."
Draco only raised his eyebrows, then moved on. "What's interesting in the world of wizarding today?" he asked.
"What?" replied a dazed Ron. Draco motioned towards the newspaper in his hands and tried to keep the smug smile off of his face. There's absolutely something here, he thought excitedly, and I can't wait to find out exactly what.
"Oh! The newspaper...," Ron said, bumbling with it in his hands. "It's been so long since I've read one. I stopped ordering them a while ago—,"
"You did? Why? I'd think that being so far away would make you want to keep up on current events, especially during the war."
Ron looked thoughtful. "Actually, it was somewhat the opposite." He looked at Draco, who returned his gaze expectantly. Ron sighed and continued, "When I moved to Romania...I dunno...I felt separated from the rest of the wizarding community. Charlie kept up with the times. He even took trips once in a while to London or to the Burrow, just to keep up. Me...I dunno. When I'm with the dragons, it's just me and them. Nothing else matters. They won't let anything else matter."
"But what about the time you're not with the dragons?" Draco asked softly.
"It's...lonely."
Odd, how a strong man who stood over six foot tall could so easily look like a forlorn child. Draco stared at Ron and wanted—so badly—to reach out and comfort, to hold and love. This was new territory, however. Ron's vulnerability was surprising—almost as much as Draco's urge to soothe and protect. God, I've never before felt this way, Draco thought, and yet I've always wanted to feel this way.
Silent moments passed. Ron was too deep in his isolation to notice. When he did, though, he raised his eyes to Draco's. The depth that he found made him gasp and look away, his pulse accelerating. Draco realized it and abruptly cleared his throat. He thought wildly of a safe conversational transition, but Ron saved him by speaking.
"Well, anyway, all I was doing was checking out the prospects for the Cannons," he said with an innocently.
"Really? What do they say?" Draco was inwardly delighted at Ron's interest in the Cannons, and thought of it as his ace in the hole.
"They say that this season should be phenomenal, what with Harry. And that silent partner, too." Ron leaned over and whispered as if sharing a secret, "You know, the Cannons are my favorite team."
Draco, pleased at the ruse, replied in turn, "Is that so?" Ron nodded conspiratorially. "Yep. And it is killing me, not knowing who the silent partner is. I've known everything about that team for years, but this silent partner deal?" He leaned back and shrugged. Returning to a normal tone, he said, "I can't begin to think of who it could be. Harry, good friend he is, refuses to tell me." With that, Ron leaned back further on the settee and—to the dismay of Draco's libido—pouted. It took every restraint to not lean forward and taste. It was then Draco formed an idea.
"Harry didn't tell you?" Draco asked in a dismayed tone. Ron shook his head. "Well, what would you say if I told you I knew?"
Something flickered in Ron's eyes as he fought to keep the smirk off of his face. "I'd say you were lying."
"Lying? Me? Not at all. I swear...," Draco looked around for something to swear upon, "I swear upon my wand that I do know who the silent partner is."
"Really?" Ron baited the blond man. "Would you tell me?"
"Well, I don't know...he is silent for a reason...,"
"Please?" Ron smiled playfully.
"Well, how about a deal? If I tell you who the silent partner is...,"
"Yes?"
"Then you'll have to tell me what you did last night that has to do with me."
Draco was smugly amused. Ron looked like he'd been slapped.
"What?" He said, his voice raising.
"I've set my price. You go first."
Ron looked around uneasily. His game suddenly gone awry, he had nowhere else to turn. "Um," he said, "No. You go first."
Draco grinned evilly. "Fine. You want the silent partner?" Ron gasped, but Draco continued, "You got him. I'm the silent owner."
Weakly, Ron said, "You are not," trying to deter the conversation.
"I am so! Want to see the paperwork?"
"No, no..."
"Fine, then, it's your turn."
"Me? Um...,"
"Yes?" Draco smirked. Ron's blush was delicious, and he couldn't help putting it there as often as possible.
"I was...um...IsawHarryandGinnymakingout," he said in a rush. Draco noted that his blush didn't deepen—rather, it began to subside.
"Liar. Tell the truth."
"I am telling the truth!" Ron insisted, but the flush began to creep back up his neck.
"You were not. Your blushing is the best lie detector I've ever seen."
Ron couldn't think of a way out. He knew he was the worst liar on the planet, and there was nothing he could do. "Fine...I was...trying to save you the embarrassment."
"Me?" Draco drawled, "Why is that?"
"Cause I saw you stumbling around your room yesterday. Drunk."
Draco chuckled. "Nude."
Ron flinched. "Yes. I...thought you would be embarrassed,...so I slammed your door and went...to the library."
Draco watched Ron closely, then smiled again. "Liar."
"Okay, fine! I went to my room! Are you happy?"
Draco chuckled. "And what did you do there?"
Ron froze, a stunned expression on his face. There was no way he was admitting that, there was no way he was saying that aloud, and there was absolutely no way he was telling Draco.
Draco noted this reaction, and concentrated on remembering the evening before...being out in the hall...Ron's doorway...and suddenly, it hit him. By God, like lightning, realization seeped through, and Draco wanted to laugh hysterically, wanted to jump around the room, wanted to roar gloriously at his insane luck. The blushing, the gazing, the embarrassment—it was Draco's dream come true, and he thanked every last one of those damnable lucky stars in the sky as he leaned his way closer.
Mere inches from Ron's shocked face, he whispered, "You have been a bad boy...," and closed the distance, lips meeting.
Ron gasped, still stunned. Draco. Lips. And then the thunder of realization, and Ron wrapped his arms around Draco, gasping. The only thought on his mind—more.
Draco smiled against Ron's lips as he felt Ron begin to respond, and he placed one hand on Ron's bicep, the other flat against his chest, feeling the depth of his breaths, the strength of his muscles, the expanse of his skin below a layer of cotton. Sensation ripped even stronger desires from Draco's mind as he began to caress. Ron had begun to stroke the length of the blonde's spine, and Draco needed more contact.
Adjusting quickly, Ron found Draco between his denim clad knees, and gasped roughly at the sensation, throwing his head back, breaking their kiss. Oh my God, he thought, this is happening, this is really happening, God, do I want this to happen—and then Draco's lips whispered across his jaw line to find his pulse and suck. Ron moaned and couldn't help the upward jerk of his hips, which created such a sinuous friction—he gasped as Draco groaned against his neck and thrust back down forcefully. "God," Ron said on a breath, and urged Draco's head back up. Lips met again. Draco sucked on Ron's lower lip, tempting them to open further.
Draco's head was swimming as Ron skillfully used his tongue to explore. He almost lost his mind when Ron caught his tongue and sucked. Draco's hands rushed to Ron's hips as he thrust down again mindlessly, searching, needing. His hand drifted to the crotch of Ron's tented jeans, and gripped. Ron gasped again and halted his assault, allowing Draco to take over. He was so hot...so close...
"Ahem! Boys!" a feminine voice sounded, and it took all of Ron's power to tear his lips away to find the voice's source.
"Ginny!" Ron gasped, dazed.
"Ginny...," Draco growled.
"Well, excuse me, but you are in my living room. My respectable living room."
Ron was still dazed, still throbbing. He blinked a few times, and found himself on his back on the settee, Draco sprawled over top of him, their hips positioned just so...Ron lost his focus at the realization and almost groaned again.
Ginny continued. "Anywho, lunch will be served in 15 minutes."
"Damn it," Draco said under his breath, but replied, "Okay, thank you Ginny. We'll be there momentarily."
"I'm sure you will," she said, "and no shagging in my living room." Then she turned and left.
"Bloody hell," Ron whispered, and Draco looked down. The sight made him want to dive back in, but he reigned in his passion and rose to his feet. He reached down and pulled Ron to his feet, then pushed him out the doorway to the stairs.
"Its best we shower before lunch," Draco said, and Ron simply nodded and began to climb the stairs. Draco couldn't tear his eyes away as he watched—that arse! When they finally reached their rooms, Draco stopped Ron and pulled his head down for a deep kiss. Breaking it, he put his forehead on Ron's and said, "Oh, this is far from over." Ron gulped and nodded. Draco replied, "Okay, so long as you know that." He sighed, took one last look at Ron, and then went to his room. Ron stood there for a moment, then did the same, bracing himself for the icy shower to come.
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