Two days later, Winter Holiday began. It had taken a reluctant letter to his family that informed them of his stay at the Malfoys', two hours of carefully packing his trunk, six minutes of trying to stuff Pigwidgeon into his cage as the little owl hooted with protest, and a long, five-hour train ride in silence to get Ron Weasley to the front gates of Draco Malfoy's home.

By now, Ron was more subdued about losing, but he still felt like oil was churning in his stomach when he thought, with dread, about what Malfoy was going to make him do. As he and Draco stepped out of the black cab, which had magically appeared out of nowhere for them back at the train station, Ron couldn't help but notice that Draco, with all his pride and dignity, was looking a little nervous. And for the first time since before the train ride, Ron spoke to him. Are you okay, Mate?

Draco shrugged. I'm fine, he replied, though he didn't feel that way. Indeed, it was great beating Ron and having him come to his house for the holidays, but at the same time, the Slytherin wasn't positive that his father would let a guest of Draco's into the manor without question- especially if that guest were a Weasley. It was a fifty/fifty chance really, and Draco had also purposely neglected to send a letter, letting his parents know Weasley was coming. So, no. Draco certainly was not fine, but he couldn't let Weasley know this.

As they trekked up a steep, stone walkway to the front gates, Ron gazed around the property. To his left and right, there were massive, dark forests that didn't look very inviting, and behind him, storm clouds loomed dangerously above the gray road. He tried to look ahead, peering through the tall, black, metal bars of the gates, but a thick cover of fog hid everything beyond them from view.

Draco grimaced as he pulled out his wand and tapped a statue of a silver lion in the middle of the bars impatiently. Slowly, the lion's head lifted to look up at the blonde, who stood in front of a gaping redhead. It's mouth squeaked as it opened, and a low rumble of a voice came from it, Name and Password?

Draco replied in an almost bored voice. Draco Ignis Malfoy, and it's

The lion nodded it's silver head very slowly, and greeted deeply, Afternoon, Draco. Good to have you home.

Without another word, the lion fell back into it's frozen position, and the gates were flew open.

Draco turned back to Ron and beckoned him to follow him. Come on. He only waits ten seconds. Hearing this, Ron quickly followed Draco through the gates, still stunned by the talking gate-lion statue. As they continued to walk, now into a misty fog, they could here a clang of gates closing, and again, Ron was surprised as the thick fog instantly cleared, and he blinked around, taking in his now visible surroundings.

He found that he was standing in the middle of an enormous garden, full of of white roses and tall hedges that had been clipped and sculpted to look like people dancing with each other. Everything on the property seemed completely untouched by winter, and the snow that came with it, and the air was only slightly cool.

Seeing Ron's expression, Draco explained, My mother is obsessed with gardens. She spends three hours a day planting and trimming. My father hates it. He says it's not proper for a Malfoy to work in the sun. But for some reason, it keeps her happy.

Ron turned back to him. What happened to the fog?

Draco smirked. How could Weasley be so dense about these magical devices? He was a wizard, right? It's for privacy. A muggle on the outside couldn't spy on us because there's a wall of fog, and even if they got inside, they'd be detected by our guard lion on the gate, and he controls where the wall of fog goes. See? He pointed behind them, and Ron could see a sheet of heavy fog back by the gate. Draco's eyes lit up as they walked up a small hill through the gardens. One time when I was six, this stupid muggle followed my father in, and the lion detected it, so he moved the mist right overtop of the dumb kid, and he stumbled around in it all night, until finally he left back through the gate, and we haven't seen him around here since. He barked a laugh at his own story, then suddenly realized Ron wasn't finding it humorous at all. He immediately stopped chuckling, then threw out a quick, Oh, right. You actually like muggles.

They continued to walk in silence through the white and green garden, and as they reached the top of the hill, Ron's jaw dropped. He'd seen big houses before, but this must've compared to more than a third of Hogworts! A great, stone mansion with three stories and two, tall towers stood proudly before him. It looked old, judging by the castle-like style of the house, but all of the stones were neatly in tact and not weathering like one would expect. From each tower hung a dark green flag with two, entwining, silver serpents on it, and a gold plack above the large, oak front doors read in bold letters Malfoy Manor.

Ron breathed, staring from tower to tower.

Like it? Draco asked, smiling smugly. It's a bit gloomy to me, but it's good enough to call

You live in a castle, Ron mused, still amazed.

Not a castle. It's just a manor, Weasley. There are loads of them in this part of England. Draco motioned for Ron to follow him again, and added over his shoulder, Wait until you see the rooms.

Draco once again tapped his wand repeatedly, this time on the crack in between the massive oak doors that towered above them. Ron figured he'd faint if the door started talking too, but instead, it weakly swung open, and Draco pulled the Gryffindor inside. The blonde hastily pushed Ron into a darker corner of the large foyer, and said softly, Wait here.

Ron did as he was told, but continued to gaze intently, taking in everything he saw in the front hall. The foyer alone was large, with royal blue and gray floor tiles, a large, gold chandelier, a cherrywood table with a small statue of a glass dolphin on it, a cherrywood door on the left and right walls, and a giant staircase with a golden banister and rich, green carpet, leading loftily up to the next floor. This one room probably cost more than the entire Weasley house!

said a small, nasally female voice from above. Suddenly, a slender figure descended on the stairs, hurrying toward Draco with her silver hair flying behind her. Narcissa Malfoy wore a delighted expression on her face as she hugged the blonde boy tightly to her. Oh, Draco, we missed you so much. How was school, my Darling? She pulled away quickly to let her son speak.

It was fine, Mum. Not very eventful, Draco answered, and Ron snorted at this from his place in the corner. Not very eventful? Well, then what did he call all their competing over the last week?!

Hearing a sound of mocking coming from the corner, Narcissa and Draco turned to look at Ron. Narcissa exclaimed. Is that a friend of yours, Draco?

Yes, Mother. This is Ron Weasley, and he'll be spending Yule with me, if that's all right. Draco beckoned a hand at Ron, and the redhead timidly stepped out of the shadows and stood beside Draco.

Ron used this opportunity to take a good look at Narcissa. He'd seen her in public more than once, and she always wore slinky black dresses and a stony expression. But now, to his surprise, she was wearing a tight pair of velvet, leopard-spotted trousers and a matching, sleeveless shirt. Her skin was unnaturally pale, much like Draco's, and her silvery blonde hair, which would usually be in a tight bun in public, now hung long and loose down her back. She looked as content as a little child picking out a teddy bear at the store, and her blue eyes seemed to twinkle like stars do.

Without a second thought, Narcissa smiled broadly and answered gently, Of course! Hello, Ron Weasley. She extended a small hand that had two jeweled rings on it. Ron, still not believing that this usually mean-looking lady could act so nice to him, uncertainly shook her hand, and noticed that her fingers felt very cold. When she let go of his hand, she added a light, Nice to meet you.

Draco, who was feeling a little impatient, cleared his throat so Narcissa would look at him. Mother, I'd like Ron to be stay in the room across the hall from mine.

Narcissa straightened up in a business-like manner, and agreed, Of course. That would be the River Room, now wouldn't it? She didn't even wait for Draco's nod before she continued briskly, Well, I'll go make sure your parcels are sent up there, Ron. And I'll ask the House Elves to prepare another place in our dining room. She turned back to Draco again, and added merrily, It's so wonderful to have you home, Darling, before swiftly striding through one of the cherry doors.

Ron glanced at Draco, completely baffled by all that just happened. Draco smiled. She loves having guests stay at the Manor. Now, I fear, she's on autopilot. Ron chuckled at Draco's small joke, and the blonde asked invitingly, Would you like a tour?

For the next half-hour, Ron saw the extravagant dining room, parlor, lounge, study, recreation room (which, to Ron's delight, contained a private bar and pool table), and enormous library, and that was only the first floor! Draco had neglected to show him the kitchen.

It's where the House Elves work, and I haven't even seen it before, the Slytherin explained.

On the next floor, there was a second lounge, seven, small suites for guests (each having its own mini-bar and bathroom), and the servants' quarters, where the House Elves slept. Ron hadn't seen the servant's quarters either, which were placed behind a large portrait of a pointy-faced witch with gray hair.

That's my great aunt, Esmerelda Malfoy. Thank Gods she's dead.

The third floor was Draco's favourite. It had a few guest rooms, a smaller library, and, of course, Draco's room. Draco said triumphantly, pushing a light, door of maplewood open, and the two boys stepped inside.

Ron's jaw nearly dropped as he looked around. Beautiful was the only word to describe this room. There were windows that stood as tall as the door, and a rich, green carpet with leaf patterns all over it. There was a massive closet with white, open, French doors, showing Draco's enormous wardrobe. On the left of the room, there was a comfy chair and desk, with a big hole in the side of it.

What's with the hole in your desk? Ron questioned, confused.

Draco smirked proudly. What's your favourite sweet?

Ron gave the blonde a funny, puzzled look, and replied, Erm....chocolate frogs.

Draco smiled bigger, then padded over to the desk, sat down in the chair and said very clearly, Two chocolate frogs. The second he'd said the last word, there was a woosh, and without warning, two chocolate frog packages came shooting out of the hole and landed in a pewter dish on the floor. Draco snatched up the sweets and tossed them to Weasley, who was looking absolutely amazed. It does cost a bit, Draco told him, getting up from the chair, but I love it to death.

When Ron finally managed to stop gazing at the chocolate frogs in his hand, his focus rested on a tall mirror with a golden frame on the wall, and a large bed with dark green, satin sheets, and black, satin pillows with the initials DIM marked into them. Ron would've laughed at the letters, and told Draco that his initials were a good adjective for him, but he was too busy thinking about all the girls Malfoy must've fucked on a bed like that. And the thought made something tingle in him, thinking about Malfoy having hot, passionate sex on that bed. He quickly shook his head to get rid of those wicked thoughts, and suddenly noticed another door, on the same wall as the windows.

Do you have a balcony? Ron asked hopefully, turning back to look at Draco.

Draco shook his head. It's something better though. He strode over to the door and held it open for Ron, revealing a long spiral of stone steps. Ron licked his lips greedily as Draco led him up the staircase. Ron tried to count the steps as they went, and surmised that there were about fifty before they reached the top. Light poured in through the castle-like windows, and Ron could see the green and white garden far below him. He was in one of the towers!

the redhead breathed, gazing at everything in the small, round room. Against the opposite wall, there were Quittich posters, several broom-care kits, and Draco's infamous Nimbus 2001, which had somehow been transported up here since they'd arrived. But the one thing that caught Ron's attention most was a thin easel up against the window. It was covered in a silk sheet, hiding whatever painting was under it from view. Ron moved to lift the sheet, but he suddenly felt a hand clasp around his outstretched wrist. He stared up at Draco with surprise, and the blonde looked as though he was about to have a heart attack. His eyes were large and frightened, and his grip on Ron's arm was getting steadily tighter.

Don't look at that, Draco hissed, saying each word slowly and clearly.

Ron squeaked, startled by Draco's wrath.

There was an awkward pause, and Draco looked down at his own hand in surprise. By gods, he was hurting Ron! He quickly let go and turned toward the staircase. Let me show you your room, Weasley, he said more gently.

Ron nodded, and they swiftly left the tower, and Draco's room, then Draco brought them across the hall, to another maple door. Sorry I couldn't give you the room with the other tower. That one belongs to my parents. Whenever my father is home, he spends all his time up in the tower, working or something of the sort, Draco explained softly as he tapped his wand against the door, and then said quietly, New password: Ron Weasley. The door swung open by Draco's silent command. Draco faced Ron and added, All you must do is say your name if you wish to enter in here. Ron bobbed his head appreciatively, and followed his rival inside.

The room was almost as big as Draco's and Ron instantly understood why it was called the River Room. For in each corner, a tall, porcelain fountain stood with heavy sheets of water flowing from it. The walls were decorated with a beautiful scene of ocean waves, and in the center of the room, a small stream appeared to magically flow from wall to wall.

Don't worry. It's not actually water, Draco told him. It's like a hologram, and if you happen to step through it, your feet won't get wet.

Ron nodded, and his eyes fell upon his bed. It was just as big as Draco's, and it had dark blue, silk sheets, and matching pillows. Little pictures of serpents were embroidered into them, and stalks of clover and goldenrod were hung on each bedpost. Ron wasn't sure what Malfoy would do if the Gryffindor jumped excitedly onto the massive bed, but didn't give it much thought as he went ahead and did it anyway.

Draco watched, amused as Ron flung himself upon the sheets, hollering with delight. When Ron yelled out, Oh, fucking yes! Draco couldn't stop himself from laughing, and also couldn't help the very perverted thoughts that entered his mind.

Shut up, you git! My mother's going to hear you and think you're being buggered, By me, right now Draco decided not to add.

Ron giggled, figuring he ought to praise whatever diety made him lose the bet so he could be sent here. Then he sat up and asked curiously, Do I have my own bathroom?

Draco smirked. Yes and no. The bathroom that is meant to go with this room is yours, but it's also the bathroom I use every day. Ron scowled at this, but when Draco pushed open the door that connected to his room, the redhead gasped.

It was bigger than his bedroom back at home! Everything was made of gold and blue tiles, and the bathtub was not much smaller than Draco's bed! There were seven different taps that looked like serpent heads: for water, soap, shampoo, and conditioner, and the other three were raspberry, lemon, and vanilla flavoured bubble bath that you could really eat!

Once again, thoughts of Draco came into his mind; thoughts of a naked Draco, with several naked girls all around him soaping up his pale and well-muscled chest; thoughts of Draco being soaped up by several naked boys, for Fuck's sake! Ron felt a similar tingle in his belly as the one he'd felt before, thinking about Draco's bed. Realizing that Draco was watching him, Ron blushed heavily, and he stabbed those inappropriate thoughts with imaginary daggers.

Draco gestured around the room. Well, that concludes the tour of the inside. I'll show you the menagerie and stables tomorrow. But from what you saw already, what do you think?

Ron thought back to all the other rooms he'd seen with contentment. I can't believe you live here. Draco raised an eyebrow at this. Ron quickly added defensively, I mean, I can believe you live here, because you're Malfoy and well, er, I just can't... Ron trailed off instantly because Draco started to laugh, shaking his head. Ron cleared his throat, feeling sheepish. All and all, I think it's cool.

Draco answered, still grinning. He hadn't had much to really laugh at in a long time, but he was finding that Weasley was rather cute at times, and he couldn't help smiling at least.

There was an awkward pause as they stared at each other, neither knowing what to say. Draco's eyes intently focused on Ron's, and Ron felt a strange feeling run through him. He didn't know what it was, and he didn't really want to find out, so he dropped his gaze, and Draco said quickly:

Well, I'll leave you to unpack. My father will be home soon, I suppose, and dinner is in a half-hour. Dress in school robes if you want. It's not meant to be formal. With that said, the Slytherin hastily left, and Ron, still a little confused, was pleased to find his trunk on his bed, and Pigwidgeon in his cage on the oak bedside table when the Gryffindor reentered his room.

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Draco wiped the scarlet-orange paint off his fingers and onto his blue work shirt. It was getting colder as sunlight was quickly surrendering to the night outside the tower window. Draco shivered a little as he whispered a cleaning charm to his paint brush, and admired the almost-finished product on the easel in front of him. The eyes were almost the right shade of blue, and the hair was a perfect red colour. When he had another moment to spare, he'd add light brown freckles, and complete his work of art; his portrait; his obsession that kept entering his dreams each night.

He gazed down at his watch through the dim lantern's light. He had five minutes until dinner. Oh, shit. Draco hastily threw off his work shirt and hurried down the stone steps, briefly checked himself over in the giant mirror next to his bed, and scuttled downstairs into the foyer.

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At half-five, Ron slowly made his way down the green carpeted stairs, holding onto the beautiful banister with a loose grip as he went. When he reached the second stairway, leading down to the ground floor foyer, he looked up, only to see a blonde Slytherin pacing back and forth and muttering to himself. It wasn't until Ron had reached the foot of the stairs that Draco finally noticed him, and stopped pacing rather abruptly.

Hi, Malfoy, Ron said softly.

Hi, Weasley, Draco replied, looking Ron over carefully. The redhead was only in his school robes, as Draco had requested, but damn! He looked gorgeous! Doesn't he always? said a small voice in the back of his head. Draco smiled, and motioned toward the large door on the right wall. he said simply.



The two boys walked through the door, and Ron was instantly greeted with one of the most beautiful rooms in the house. There were five, giant chandeliers on the ceiling, and a massive table with a green, satin table cloth with fine silverware and cushy, red chairs all around it. On two facing walls, large fireplaces crackled with chartreuse flames, as if having a war with each other. Narcissa sat very tall in her chair at the foot of the table, wearing the more familiar, black dress and pinned up hair. And, to Ron's dismay, at the head of the table sat a stony-faced Lucius Malfoy.

Hello, Father. Mother, Draco greeted before taking a seat toward the center of the table, and he motioned for Ron to sit across from him.

his father acknowledged in a cool, steely voice. I see, we have a guest for the Winter Holiday. His intense, silver eyes seemed to give Ron a once-over, then he turned his suspicious gaze to Draco.

Draco answered, nodding as confidently as he could. This is Ron Weasley, Father. My guest. He emphasized the last words very clearly, hoping that the message would get across all right.

But Lucius said nothing more about Ron's presence, and made a wave with his hand. Instantly, trays of potatoes, string beans and ham appeared between everyone's fork and knife, and a silver goblet of some sort of red drink appeared next to Ron's plate, surprising him. He looked at Draco questioningly, and the blonde mouthed, Red Wine, then took a sip from his own goblet. Ron stared at his cup, horrified, for he'd never been offered a real drink before, and he'd only tasted wine once- at the wedding for his cousin. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the goblet to his lips and tasted it. Certainly, it was bitter, but there was something sweet and mind-numbing about it. Ron licked his lips.

Narcissa looked up from her food and inquired sweetly, So, how was your last Quittich match, Draco?

Oh, it was really good, Draco answered, then pretended not to notice the sneer Ron sent at him from across the table.

Lucius drawled. I heard it was your most determined play yet. Such a shame I had to miss it and be in one of my meetings.

One of his Death Eater gatherings, he meant. Draco scowled and his throat felt dry as he shoveled a forkful of ham into his mouth. He suddenly didn't feel all that hungry.

The rest of the meal was silent, and when Ron had completely finished his wine and food, and Draco had emptied his wine goblet and barely touched his food, Draco stood, beckoning Ron to do the same. They left the dining room in silence, and it was only when they reached the top of the first staircase that Ron started laughing.

Draco's lips quirked upward at the sound of the Gryffindor's laughter, and questioned, What? What's so funny?

Ron grinned contentedly and cried, That was the first time I ever had a full glass of wine.

Draco's eyes widened and he smirked. Are you serious? Merlin, your awfully innocent, aren't you? I'll bet you've never even had sex.

Oh, piss off, Malfoy, Ron retorted as they climbed the second staircase. And you have? He stopped talking in an instant, as the same thoughts of a very naked Draco entered his mind again.

Draco said honestly, I haven't yet, but I've come very close.

Oh, yeah? With who? Ron wanted to know.

None of your fucking business, Weasel, Draco replied, and by now they'd neared their bedroom doors and they stopped walking. Draco said more seriously, Okay. Go to bed. Tomorrow is when I'll make you start doing stuff like taking care of the creatures in the menagerie. So, you'd better sleep. I hope everything is comfortable for you.

Ron nodded. Thanks. Good night, Malfoy. He walked up to his door, said his own name clearly to make it open, then slipped behind it without a backward glance.

Draco sighed and entered his own room. He waited for a moment, poised like a cat, listening for sounds of anyone passing by his room, then, hearing none, he went to his tall mirror and said softly, Jolly good. Immediately, a small female voice sounded from somewhere in the mirror:

Hello, Draco. Welcome to your diary. If you'd like to make a new entry, you can do so- now.

Draco sighed, as he usually did to begin a diary entry. Well, I'm happy. Really happy, because I won the bet with Weasley, and now he's here. In my own, bloody house! He's likely just going to sleep right now, in the room across the hall. Draco thought for a brief moment, then continued talking, running a hand through his platinum locks. I, er, don't really know what I'm supposed to make him do tomorrow, as my servant. Honestly, all I want to do is kiss him. And every time I see him, it only gets more intense. But I still have my doubts that this will work. I can only hope to Merlin that something good comes out of him being here. Anyway, I'm home, and I'm going to bed. Good night. With that, he stepped away from the mirror, which said its usual:

Thank you, Draco. The mirror instantly shut down after that, and Draco gave it a nod before moving to press his ear against the maple door. He could hear no noise out in the hall, but still thought he heard the faint rustle of someone sliding into his bed sheets in the room across from his.

Good night, Ron, he said quietly, then peeled off his robes and denim trousers, leaving him in just red boxers and a black tee shirt. As he made his way over to his giant bed, there was a snap, and his father suddenly appeared, sitting on the edge of the bed before him.

Lucius Malfoy stood swiftly in front of Draco, and without warning, smacked the boy right across the face. Draco flinched in searing pain and stepped back as Lucius shouted, What is muggle-loving Arthur Weasley's son doing in MY HOUSE?!

Trying to regain composure, Draco answered shakily, We made a bet, okay? He lost, and now he's my servant for all of Winter Holiday. He's here to do everything I want.

Lucius' eyes narrowed, and he questioned in a softer, more venom-filled voice, So, why then, is a servant sleeping in the River Room?

So he can be at my beck and call, Draco replied. He'd already planned out this conversation and was carrying it out with much finesse. He's not a House Elf, Father. Really.

Lucius seemed to ponder this over for a moment, then asked, What are you making him do exactly?

Starting to-morrow, everything I ask him to do. I'm having him work with the dragons in the menagerie so I don't have to do it, Draco said smoothly, never once breaking eye contact with his father.

Lucius nodded slowly. All right, Draco. Weasley may stay here, but only as your servant. You would never befriend someone as shabby as a Weasley.

Draco smirked. Wouldn't dream of it, Father. Weasley should be grateful because we have soap here. He barked out a laugh, and Lucius chuckled deeply.

Good night, Draco.

Good night, Father, Draco replied, and soon there was another snap, and Lucius was gone. Draco sighed, then quickly glanced over at his magical diary mirror to make sure it was completely shut off. He'd die on the spot if his father saw any of the entries Draco had made. He'd specifically put the password Jolly Good on it, because he knew neither of his parents would ever say anything remotely like Jolly Good. Ever. Therefore, neither of them could open the diary feature, and to them, it looked like just a plain and ordinary mirror. It was a feature Draco had read about two years ago in a charm book somewhere in the advanced reading section of the library- making an ordinary mirror become a secret diary. It was times like these that he was glad he'd bothered to put a password on it.

Draco climbed into bed, flipped off the light, and drifted into a light sleep.


A Word From The Author: HI! Sorry it took me so long to update but I have a nice, lengthy chapter for you here. Well, no, not much action happens, but come on- these guys can't just start snogging after a day in the Malfoy house! And, the Harry-kissing-Ron thing will be thoroughly explained later. No worries! Thanks for your reviews and such. Schooling is a killer!

Delicious love, Ebony L