Disclaimer – I don't own any part of the Harry Potter universe; all of it in all its glory belongs to J.K. Rowling.  Brilliant woman.  I make no profit from her world.  This story is all mine, though, even if Draco and Ron and the others aren't, and you know what that means – ask before taking, please.

Rated R for sexual situations and foul language.  Very slash.  But you knew that, right?

This was written for Angel Reid – she wanted a Draco/Ron fic, and I live to please my friends, so here we are.  Enjoy, my dear friend, enjoy.

In fact, enjoy, everyone.  Peace, all.

Two Sides

     It was when he saw Harry and Hermione share a kiss under the mistletoe that Ronald Weasley finally broke.

     Anger followed quickly on the heels of betrayal, and he spun away, wondering why he'd bothered with either of them in the first place.  Who needed friends like that anyway, who'd kiss each other behind your back?  Harry could keep Hermione, if he wanted her so much-

     Wait.  Even in his brain that didn't sound right.  He was jealous of Hermione's attention, not Harry's.  Harry could kiss any dumb girl he pleased-

     His stomach churned.  What in the world was wrong with him?  If he didn't know better he'd think-

     "What're you doing there, Weasley, catching flies?"

     He shut his mouth quickly and glared at Draco.  The Slytherin boy simply smirked at him, and it was that smug look that really pushed Ron to the end of his temper.

     "Shut up Malfoy!" he shouted angrily, rewarded for his outburst with another small smirk.  He hated Draco in that moment, hated his pale hair, his severe features, his quirking mouth.  And most of all, he hated that a very repressed part of his brain admired Draco, both for his good looks and the respect he so easily commanded.  Ron had friends, he had family, he had people who loved and adored him, but he felt in his heart of hearts that no one respected him.

     In his more giving moments, he suspected that for Draco it was the exact opposite.

     For some reason, that thought popped into his brain, strangely calming him.  Draco's life wasn't perfect, either, despite everything he had that Ron didn't.  And Ron had important things – like love - that Draco lacked.  Ron found all that very comforting.

     He didn't realize he was smiling until a newly frowning Draco drawled, "what exactly are you grinning about, Weasel?  Or has your pitiful brain abandoned you again?"

     Meeting Draco's pale eyes, Ron blurted, "your life sucks."

     This time his reward was much greater – he got to see the usually swift-witted young man stunned and at a loss for words.

     Ron thought maybe he should start whistling; it seemed the time for that sort of thing.  He pursed his lips, but before he got any farther he saw something that shocked him into silence.

     Was that a – a tear – in Draco's gray eyes?

     He was given no time to find out, as Draco rallied quickly, saying in a bored tone, "and you'd be a great judge of that, would you, Weasley?  I suppose your life is a dream come true?  Always playing second fiddle to Potty and the mudblood-"

     "I do not!" Ron interrupted loudly.  Too loudly; he could hear his own strained voice echoing down the deserted corridor.  But he couldn't help the volume of his voice any more than he could help the flush of hot color that suffused his cheeks.

     "Of course you do," Draco snarled.  "You're pathetic, Weasley.  Too poor and too stupid to even afford to make a name for yourself-"

     Ron pounced.

     There was no time for wands, no thoughts of them even if there had been.  He was just on Draco, suddenly, and his momentum was such that they were both knocked unceremoniously to the floor.

     Ron recovered first, and took full advantage of that by forcefully pinning Draco down.  Deprived of Crabbe and Goyle, and lacking even his wand, Draco wasn't much of a threat.  Ron overpowered him with surprising ease.

     But then he met those pale eyes again, and he thought maybe there was more to his easy win than he'd originally believed.

     He stared for a moment, wondering, his fury gone.  And Draco just stared back, without anger, momentarily without walls.

     Very slowly Ron lowered his lips to Draco's.

     For someone with such a hard persona, Draco's lips were very, very soft.  Ron lost himself in the feel, the taste, the shimmery sensation traveling along his bones.

     And Draco was responding.  Ron could feel those tender lips open beneath his, and he deepened the kiss instinctively.  Draco gave as good as he got, and soon both boys were clutching at each other with desperate fingers.

     When Draco's hands began pulling off his clothes, Ron found himself suddenly glad that because it was the holidays almost everyone in the school was gone.

     It was funny how fast one could get naked when the need was great enough.  It didn't seem long at all before both of them were nude, though somehow they were still completely entwined.

     It wasn't until Ron had Draco on his back with his legs on his shoulders that he saw the problem.  "Malfoy," he muttered, wondering why the name suddenly felt so strange on his lips.  "I don't have – I mean, we need – I can't-"

     "Dammit, Weasley, you idiot," Draco rasped, his obvious arousal and annoyance painting his cheeks pink.  ""Just use your spit if you have to."

     A little annoyed himself but too aroused to care, Ron followed Draco's breathless instructions, using his saliva until his mouth was too dry to give any more.

     He found he couldn't wait any longer, anyway – and from the half-irritated glare Draco was shooting him, he wasn't the only one.  So Ron pushed inside him, gently at first, but with more confidence when Draco's only reaction was a soft, wordless hiss and not a punch to the jaw.

     Though inexperienced, they soon found their rhythm, rocking together as though they'd been doing this for years.  They even came as one, groaning their pleasure into each other's mouths.

     Ron collapsed half-on, half-off Draco, his lips finding Draco's neck for a gentle kiss.  Almost against his will – and certainly without thinking – Ron whispered in his ear, "Draco..."

     The body beneath his stiffened.  Too tired to move and too content to be really worried, Ron decided to simply wait him out.  If Draco had something to say, he'd find a way to say it – you could always count on him for that.

     Sure enough, not a minute later Draco was speaking; hesitantly, to be sure, but speaking nonetheless.

     "Tell anyone about this, Weasley, especially Potter, and I'll hex you."

     Stung, Ron leaned up to look once more into those half-hooded gray eyes – and then he understood.

     "Same goes for you, Malfoy," he whispered affectionately, making Draco's sad eyes begin to dance.

     Two sides of the same coin, Ron thought dazedly as Draco pulled him up for a kiss.  Two sides...

     Draco's soft lips met his, and for awhile Ron thought nothing more.