Perhaps the most defining moment in his new life would be the decision to leave his wand behind before he fled into the Forest. In Slytherin fashion, he quickly figured that using magic anywhere on Hogwarts grounds could conceivably be detected by Dumbledore and that was a liability that he did not need. With this, he firmly cemented his ties to his wild Veela instincts.
He was forced to make use of his secondary form practically for the first time. His concerns were reduced to finding a temporary place to wait out his father, making sure that he wasn't eaten, and even looking for things to eat just in case he had to stay past dinner. He saw a deer passing under his perch and his thoughts were: Drop. Latch on. Twist neck. Kill. Eat. His eyes found the slow movement of a troll in the distance. He was immediately seized with the urge to fly high and away. He dispassionately allowed these feelings to pass without taking action. They were not as pressing as staying away from Lucius.
He smelled the many scents of the Forest. He smelled the blood of a freshly killed rabbit somewhere, the piss marker of a fox's territory, and many other indefinable scents besides. He witnessed his first sunset. He never stayed out before so late and was awed by the sweep of orange, red and purple that steeped the sky like wine on silk. He watched a flight of bats swoop over the moon. Crickets sang and he sighed, blinking his eyes. Something screamed. His head swiveled toward the sound. That certainly wasn't a rabbit's death squeal. And then he smelt fear on the winds. It was Ron. And then there was nothing he would rather do but to fight to the death for him. Even if Ron wasn't going to appreciate it. That Ron even dared venture into the Forest for him filled him with inexpressible joy, a fervent possessiveness that he had to do something about. Soon.
As the students filed out toward the train for the holidays, Hermione nudged Harry's shoulder.
"Yon Slytherin has a lean and hungry look."
Harry glanced toward where she was pointing. Ron was saying goodbye to Ginny; she was going home for the holidays. Draco was watching him, particularly interested.
"Looks like he will be staying behind also," Hermione whispered. "Watch him."
She had already said her goodbyes to Harry and Ron, and left with the crowd. Harry approached Draco.
"You chose a good time."
"It might be a waste in the end."
Harry smiled.
"I don't know. Holiday spirit and all. Ron might cooperate."
"How do you Gryffindors do it? I fail to see how you can be so optimistic."
"Same way Slytherin keeps on trying to win the House Cup, I expect."
Draco rolled his eyes.
They had just finished another chess game; Ron won. Draco was nursing a mug of hot chocolate.
"What would you do, for a thousand Galleons?"
"A lot. But that's not going to happen."
"I could make it happen."
Ron frowned.
"Draco-"
"Of course, I could just give you the equivalent value in Chocolate Frogs. You have been looking for Agrippa, haven't you?"
"A thousand Galleons worth of Chocolate Frogs?"
"Or a thousand Galleons even."
"Why?"
"I'm in a giving mood this year."
"You're embezzling from your father, you mean."
Draco laughed.
"So I am. Giving the amount to you-"
"Is another way of pissing him off. I think I'm okay with that. What do I have to do?"
"Let me give you a massage."
"But that's just you working again."
"If you would let me go into the specifics, Ron."
Draco paused, seizing his courage.
"I give you a massage. You have to be naked."
Ron scooted backward.
"What? No!"
"Not for a thousand?"
"Well-"
"How about the thousand and the equivalent Frogs?"
Ron was weakening, Draco could feel it.
"You can keep your wand with you. How about that? Hex me if you feel uncomfortable."
"I feel uncomfortable right now!"
"So you don't want the money or the Frogs?"
Ron squirmed.
"No one from Slytherin is staying except me. We will be completely alone."
"And why shouldn't I have a problem with that?"
"All right then. I have another reason. I saved your life. You're in debt to me and this is a way to pay it off."
Of all the nerve! Ron scowled.
"I could have made you do some really public things, Ron. This isn't a big deal, really."
"But why do you want me naked?"
Draco slurped the last of his hot chocolate and set the mug aside.
"Rather obvious, Ron. Do use your brain outside of chess, please."
The problem was, everything had just gone into a halt like that moment when the White Queen's arm rose and then there was pain and then nothing. Ron made some unintelligible noises.
"Ron? You can't have lost total command of English."
Ron's set reactions under stress were fairly straightforward. Blush, denial, and then the final dangerous stage. Defensive Fury with Yelling.
The chessboard went flying, the chess pieces scrambling for cover under the table. Draco ducked. Ron was going at full pitch, yelling obscenities.
"You sick, sick bastard! Don't you ever come near me again!"
Ron ran. Draco shuddered at the fury. That was it that he needed, that emotion that was full and brimming. He wasn't going to let Ron go now. He ran after Ron. From Harry's descriptions, there was no use talking to Ron when he was in his moods.
"Get away from me!"
Draco switched to his secondary form. Ron took out his wand.
"No, no, no!"
"You are going to calm down and you are going to talk with me."
Ron looked mulish. Draco's crest flared and that was the only warning. It took only two bounds and they were tangled together, Ron's wand forgotten. Draco tried to control himself, but with Ron flailing around in anger, his beak jabbed a couple of times into Ron's chest, drawing blood. His claws were cutting into Ron's shoulders but Ron just bit down his pain and rained punches and kicks on Draco. He wore himself out, until only his tightly clenched fists and closed eyes showed his resistance.
"Ron. Ron, listen to me."
Draco began to preen Ron's hair.
"Haven't I changed for you?"
Ron didn't answer.
"Or is it because I am Draco Malfoy and I shouldn't desire you?"
Ron's breath hitched.
"Or is it because you don't like boys that way?"
No answer.
"Look at me, Ron."
Ron's eyes slowly opened. Draco drew his head back and turned it, so that Ron would see one yellow eye.
"I am not just a boy. I am part Veela. By chance I am also a Malfoy and it took away my birthright."
Ron frowned. Draco was always proud of being a Malfoy.
"I should be like her," Draco muttered. "I am the descendent of Tatyana the Peerless. I should be beautiful for you. I just wanted you to understand. You are beautiful for me."
Draco began to peck at Ron's robe.
"These clothes mark you as surely as Harry's scar marks him. No one sees past it. But I do. You are beautiful."
Ron blushed.
"Nobody sees this but me. I want to appreciate it, without these clothes, these poor rags that ruin everything about you. So take them off, let me touch you, and when I give you the Galleons, dress up properly, blow it on Cards, presents for your family, I don't care. Just let me see you. Handsome you."
Draco clicked his beak.
"If not, I understand that you can't. You are afraid of me. There's nothing wrong with that. After all, you are just a boy. Veela are for men. Didn't Fleur tell you that? Or did she just embarrass you in public only?"
Draco got up and changed back.
"So what will it be? Yes or no?"
That's so like Draco, Ron thought, compliment you and then remind you of one of the most humiliating experiences in your life. Plus he called him scared.
"I'll do it."
Ron ran the promise of a thousand Galleons and Cards as a mantra in his head as he followed Draco down into the dungeons. Because otherwise he would have run by now. Only it wasn't a brave thing to do, and he was a Gryffindor. They passed through the Common Room into the dorms, and then into the Sixth Year Boys' dorm. Draco healed Ron's wounds and stepped back. He put his wand on the nightstand and put his hands behind his back. A thousand Galleons and Cards. A thousand Galleons and Cards. Ron began to strip. "How is this compared to the Gryffindor dorms?"
"Huh? Oh…"
Ron looked around.
"Same furniture, I guess. Just not green. There are windows."
"Drafty?"
"No."
"Why do you have arachnophobia?"
Draco moved until he was sitting at the foot of his bed.
"It was Fred. I broke his toy broom by accident when I was three. He got mad and well… turned my teddy bear into a spider. A great big one."
Draco didn't laugh.
"What happened?"
"I got attacked by my own toy. It came at me and it was clicking and it had too many legs and-"
"Then you are really brave. You knew there were Acromantula in the Forest, didn't you? And you went in anyway."
Ron had only his boxers on by now. Amazingly, he was so involved with his memories that he forgot to be embarrassed. But Draco had no more questions he wanted to ask and his eyes fell on the boxers, pale from too much washing and with ragged hems. Ron felt his blush rise again, but fought it, stepping out of them and resisting the urge to cover himself with his hands.
"Don't slouch. Good."
Draco stood up and walked around Ron. He lingered over the subtle curve of Ron's back, the dents just before the buttocks, the long and tight muscles of his thighs and calves.
"Somebody ought to make a statue of you. Except that it won't come out as beautiful as the original."
"Can you stop saying that?" Ron mumbled, blushing even more.
Draco stopped in front of him.
"Why? Is it so shocking for me to be truthful?"
"But I'm not."
"Who says so?"
"You did."
"I just said you were a poor redhead. Which is true also. I was not capable; nobody was capable, of seeing you. You've grown up, Ron Weasley, and I'm the first to see the results. You will forgive me if I am overly proud of myself for this discovery."
Ron sat down on the bed.
"You do like me, don't you? I mean-"
"Eloquence can't be bought with money, unfortunately," Draco smiled ironically. "Yes. Very much."
"Why?"
"I've said it many times. You are beautiful," Draco's mouth quirked. "Are you fishing for compliments, Ron? How very, very cute."
Ron shook his head. The blush was still there.
"I've just thought up of another question."
"Yes?"
"What's it like to be pinkish all the time?" Draco lightly poked Ron's shoulder.
Ron snatched Draco's pillow and thwacked him with it. Draco caught it and was about to return the favor, when Ron found what was under the pillow.
"What's my T-shirt doing here?"
Draco froze.
"Hey, what's my T-shirt doing here? Why have you got it?"
Ron saw for the first time Draco looking like he wished the floor could swallow him up. Merlin knows how many times he's felt that himself and sympathized when he saw Harry looking like that. And it clicked together in his mind.
"What have you been doing with it?"
Ron's voice changed its timbre, it was amused and knowing, was just knee melting, if it wasn't for the fact that Draco was sitting already.
"Are you sure you want to know?" Draco recovered poise annoyingly quickly. "Secret Veela things."
"It's my T-shirt."
"You know, this is nice. You. In my bed. Naked. Not embarrassed. Oops, so sorry, you're blushing again."
Ron dropped his T-shirt and lay face down. Draco handed him the pillow, which he propped under his chin. And then Draco began.
Ron was asleep. Draco sat back and looked. Absurd thoughts concerning Endymion flitted through his mind. Quite ready for more, he slowly turned Ron over.
"Whah?"
"You're done on the other side."
Ron stretched and Draco watched. It was mildly disconcerting how much attention he was paying to him. But then, the play of muscles as Ron stretched was fascinating. Draco began working on Ron's chest.
"What have you been doing with my T-shirt?"
"In all honesty I have been smelling it."
"Why?"
Draco guided Ron's arms up and ran his fingers lightly up and down the white undersides. Ron shivered, and a corner of Draco's mouth lifted.
"You smell delicious. You've got a particularly inebriating blend of pheromones."
To demonstrate, Draco leant down and buried his nose in Ron's armpit. Ron squawked and tried to shove Draco's head away. Draco held Ron's arms down and continued snuffing happily.
"Ew! Get out, that's gross! Hey!"
Draco lifted his head.
"You weirdo," Ron sputtered.
Draco returned to Ron's armpit and started nuzzling. This was undiluted Ron smell and he wasn't having this chance again. Ron wriggled.
"It tickles," he gasped. "Stop!"
Draco sighed. He pinned Ron's hands back once more.
"Don't move while I'm working. Understand?"
"Or what?"
Draco had a hunch. Or it was wishful thinking, a delightful chance of weakness, something to color his dreams at night, but one hand smoothed down and his fingers played Ron's sides like piano keys. The response was electric.
"Ahhaaahaaaahaaaa! Stop it! Stop! Stop!"
Ron thrashed and Draco's unholy smile wasn't helping matters. Draco tickled him mercilessly until he thought Ron couldn't turn any more red from laughing and abruptly stopped. Ron's body had been trying to burrow backwards into the mattress in futile attempt to escape. Draco's covers were messed up and Draco could not imagine a lovelier sight than a disheveled Ron in his bed.
"So don't move."
"Prat."
Draco made some conciliatory rubs on Ron's pectorals and began to ease into Ron's sides. Ron relaxed and closed his eyes and began to drift off into sleep again. Draco had kept his hands well away from Ron's stomach but the minute Ron's breath had evened, he stopped and just looked. Again. Ron moving around and being embarrassed distracted him from the important thing about this whole endeavor. He was going to remember this, just in case Ron wouldn't be cooperative, no matter how he coaxed and charmed. Because if Ron wasn't going to like him, love him, then it was hopeless. And he would like to think that he wasn't a sucker for hopeless causes like his beloved Father. So he noticed. Noticed that Ron had freckles hiding underneath the hairs on his legs. Draco reached out and pressed Ron's knee with one finger and lifted it. His finger left a white imprint where it had cut off blood and the skin slowly returned to its normal pink shade. Fascinating. How very tempting the creases where his legs joined his body looked. How attractive his penis was. It was inert, a deeper shade of pink than the rest of his body, resting on the cushion of his scrotum. And Draco desired and wished and felt rather melancholy because it wasn't hard for him. But that wouldn't stop him. Draco began to massage Ron again, moving beyond the restrained boundaries he was accustomed to. Ron stirred just a bit when Draco's fingers pressed into the creases that led to his thighs. And then a little evil thought came to Draco. He closed his eyes and adjusted his pheromone cloud and carefully sent one tendril out so that Ron could breathe it in. He massaged down to Ron's toes, waiting for the result. He worked his way back up to Ron's chest and shook him awake.
"Hmm?"
"I think I'm done."
Draco shook out his hands.
"Oh, and by the way. You seem to have acquired an erection."
TBC