Title: Realization On A Winter's Eve
Rating: Starts off PG-13 then gains an enormous R
Pairing: Draco/Ron
Summery: After much rivalry, Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley make a bet, and the loser has to be the winner's personal servant for the Winter Holiday. What slashy feelings will result from this?
Current Music: The Cranberries:
Chapter Three: Detention and a Proposition


Ron stared glumly around Snape's classroom at 5:01. Right now he would be having dinner, and his stomach was growling angrily at the change in routine. The dark dungeon was deserted, so Ron's footsteps echoed as he entered it, throwing his books and cauldron down on a table.

The sun was just going down outside, and he immediately was drawn to the glittering, white flakes on the other side of the window. He went to the window, which was just above his head, so he had to stand on his tip toes to look out of it. He wished he could be sleigh riding right now, or skiing, or snowshoeing- even as painful as snowshoeing can be. He just wanted to feel the winter air on his face. He wanted to dance around as a crazy person would do. And, once again, he was trapped.

Someone cleared his throat. Ron spun around, finding himself face to face with Draco Malfoy. The handsome blonde shook his head, smirking. You're singing again, Weasley.

Ron's face flushed a little. Damn it. I thought I'd stopped doing that by now.

It's fine, Draco replied, flopping carelessly into a desk chair. I won't make fun of you for that anymore.

Ron raised his eyebrows. Wow. Malfoy was being sort of nice. That was different. It was then that a faint, sickening odor hit him, and he quickly rubbed his nose, trying to block out the smell. Malfoy, you smell like....paint.

Draco's head snapped up to sneer at him. Well, one would usually smell that way if they had been painting.

Ron mumbled, feeling a little surprised. He didn't know Malfoy painted.

As if reading Ron's mind, Draco said in a softer voice. It's a hobby I have. Sometimes I get bored, so, Ron nodded at this, simultaneously.

A second person cleared his throat, and the two boys looked up at a grimacing Professor Snape. Good evening, he said icily, striding up the aisle of desks to the back of the room where he pointed to a table full of clear vials of messy, brown fluid from a class earlier today. Mr. Weasley, you will be scrubbing all of these until they're completely spotless. Ron sighed with frustration, realizing how that would take a very long time to do. Snape continued, flipping through a potions book as he spoke. Mr. Malfoy, I would like you to make a sample potion of this, so I may use it for the first year class tomorrow.

He brought the open book closer to Draco so he could look at it. Draco sighed, but with relief instead of frustration like his rival. It was a simple elixir to prolong the time until one who's drinking becomes intoxicated. He'd made this one about five times already in the past, mainly during the times he and his friends would go out with the intention of getting sloshed. Draco, being the smart one, would let all his cronies get completely drunk, while he, having taken the potion beforehand, would only feel a little tipsy, so he could be in charge and make sure he didn't wind up sleeping with Pansy or someone as dreadful as that afterwards.

Not that Draco would tell his professor that, even though it was quite an impressive thing to say. He simply shrugged, taking the heavy book and studying it, as Snape set out the needed materials for him.

When Snape finished handing Draco the supplies, he questioned calmly, I'm confident I can trust you to get this exactly right, Mr. Malfoy?

Of course, Professor. Draco grinned. This was going to be the easiest detention ever.


A half hour later, Ron had successfully cleaned forty out of two-hundred vials with muggle soap and a scrubbing brush. He was already exhausted, and he glanced over at Malfoy, who was, without breaking a sweat, gently adding crushed crocus into his boiling cauldron.

Ron sighed. How could Snape give you something a thousand times easier to do than he gave me? he wondered aloud.

Draco smirked slightly, and answered, Because I'm an intelligent Slytherin, and he hates you.

Ron muttered, drying the forty-first vile on a dish towel.

There was a moment of silence, but Draco wanted them to keep talking, for some reason, so he commented loudly, That was a wicked fight we had today.

Ron admitted. This is brutal, but the fight was really good, before we got caught.

Draco smiled bigger, and started dicing up parsley. Well, I would've beat you, if we'd have continued.

Oh, don't be so big-headed, Malfoy, Ron argued, turning to look at the Slytherin. I had my hands clamped around your throat.

Right, and it didn't even leave a mark, Draco retorted, though his nose still hurt a lot from being punched. He hadn't yet checked with Madame Pomfrey to see if it was broken. How's the bruise on your face, by the way?

Oh, piss off, Ferret-head! Ron snapped irritably. Draco knew, with satisfaction, he'd just grilled up a bit of Ron's pride. Ron exhaled loudly, then dried his hands on the towel.

Draco stopped dicing and whirled around at the serious tone in Ron's voice.

I think, Ron hesitated, took a deep breath and said, I think we should stop trying to get back at each other like this, or one of us will get severely hurt.

You mean you will. Malfoy's lips quirked upward. He stepped a little closer to the redhead, not even realizing that he still had a cutting knife in his hand. What? You scared, Weasley?

Yeah, right. Ron grimaced. You're the one that ought to be scared, because I have an idea to end this fight, and you're going to lose on it.

Draco's eyebrows twitched, and he moved so he was leaning against the desk next to Ron. Okay. Tell me what it is.

Ron began cleaning another vile as he explained. You know about the Quittich game coming up on Saturday? Draco nodded. Well, I am going to make a bet- a final bet, and the loser will have to be the winner's personal, willing servant over Christmas Holiday, at the winner's house, doing everything the winner asks.

Draco grinned, thinking of all the things he could make Weasley do. Clean his room. Make his dinner. Clean after the stags and fire-breathing horses and miniature dragons in the stables. Make his breakfast. Dress him. Undress him. Give him h- Draco shook his head frantically, trying to throw away his last few thoughts. Ron looked at him, confused.

I like it, Draco decided aloud. What are we betting on?

Ron smiled slightly and stopped cleaning.

Draco was immediately about to say , but Ron cut him off.

And Harry.

Draco smirked as very inappropriate thoughts flooded through his mind, and he had to fight down the urge to comment about a threesome with Potter. Instead, he raised an eyebrow.

Ron turned to face his rival and explained, You're both the seekers going against each other in the upcoming match. So, I'm betting that Harry's going to get the snitch, and I assume you bet otherwise.

You assume correctly.

Ron continued, So if you get the snitch, I'll do whatever you want for a whole holiday. And if Harry gets it, you'll do whatever I want. And we won't try to get back at each other anymore. He finally looked up and met Malfoy's eyes. He slowly extended his hand.

Draco glanced down at the rough hand held out to him, then back up into the bright blue eyes that gazed back at him with anticipation. He had to win this bet. Even if he couldn't make Ron like him, he still had to make him his, at least for those two holiday weeks. he agreed, and unsurely reached out his hand to shake Ron's. He watched as their fingers touched, and involuntarily shivered at the sudden warmth that clasped around his cool skin. Ron beamed, then stepped back.

I thought so, Ron said calmly, And the odds are in your favour since you're the one you're betting on. As soon as the words left Ron's mouth, he honestly didn't know what he meant by that statement.

Draco grinned. Just don't forget that you made the bet, Weasley.

And they finished carrying out their detention without another word to each other.



A word from the author: 'Ey! Just got in from my first day of prep school, and thought I'd add on with this new chapter. Now things really start to smolder! hehe. How does it look? Oh, by the way- I don't own any of these characters. They belong to Mrs. Rowling. But you knew that, of course. *smirks* Rock it up!

Delicious love, Ebony L