Sorry for the delay...but here is 2 new chapters as repayment! I wrote both of these at the same time, it was one huge thing but I wanted to cut it down and keep it in the same range, length wise, as the rest so I disrupted the convo, but I didn't think you would mind.

If you want more, please review!

Cassie x

Chapter 3: Admittance…or some form of the like

Fifteen minutes late. Not a great way to start off a project with one's archrival. Breaking out nearly in a sweat, once Ron reached the dungeons, a brisk chill ran down his spine. He wasn't sure if it was because of the temperature or the blank stare of a very weary Draco hanging around the portrait, who didn't stir until the Gryffindor apologized for his belated arrival.

A response wasn't given but a quick shrug and position change of his feet that had been given a break when he slumped against the wall. Ron slightly tilted his head and took in the sight; the Slytherin had his arms folded and was in casual wear for once. Jeans and a t-shirt that was slightly ripped towards the stomach, the small tear showing an even paler tone underneath than the white shirt.

Concentrating his eyes on the barely visible contrast, Ron also felt eyes upon him, but Draco still didn't bother saying anything. Clearing his throat and looking up to the eyes, which bore into his, Ron decided to once again initiate conversation, "So where do you want to…"

"My room," Draco finished the question. "I've got all the books we'll need…" he trailed off, slowly turning around to enter the common room.

Before Ron could agree or protest, the blonde disappeared into the portrait. Following along, he noticed that the Slytherin common room didn't look any different from when he was there, prying the same boy for information in their second year. He was almost going to comment on the unchanged gothic and cold room, but the interrogation that was sure to follow would not be worth it. Or maybe he would passively shrug and remain silent, as he had been.

He passed a couch filled with squeezed in sixth year Slytherins who were huddled up against one another. One poked its head up from the meeting and caught Ron's eye but quickly scowled and ducked back down again. Even the stairs leading to the rooms were hollow from the stone, bared of carpets or any warmth.

Ron caught up with the blonde while ascending the stairs, following close behind him. Draco's arms swayed sloppy and listlessly, head bent down. When he reached the top, he attempted to turn around to see the progress of Ron when the said boy didn't see the action and bumped into him as he stepped up onto the top himself.

Draco took a step back and turned around without a word. Ron shrugged to no one in particular and continued to follow, uttering a small, "Sorry".

The isolated room was unlike any one he's seen. The only thing Ron could compare it to would be the room of requirement, filled with anything his heart desired. Quidditch memorabilia, mini statues, and very expensive looking furniture. Designer everything, he supposed, and in the Slytherin green and silver.

Impressed, Ron took a seat nearby a wall to take the beauty in as its occupier went to a closet. Peeking in the direction, it was filled with fancy robes and brand new clothes, both very small and nice looking. Draco sighed as he pushed them away carelessly and made an opening to grab something.

With a sound of satisfaction, the blonde arose with two bottles, "Finally," he sighed, closing the door with his foot. Ron squinted to see the label but he did not recognize it.

Draco lifted them up and near swaggered over to the Gryffindor, his mood uplifted and now spirited. "For you, Weasel," he offered with a grin.

Ron tilted his head in confusion and looked strangely at the foreign bottle before taking it wearily. "Vodka," Draco answered the unspoken question in Ron's mind. "I guess muggles are good for something, yeah?" he smirked and opened his bottle.

Noticing Ron was silent for a change, he took a big sip before continuing. "So…what potion do we have?" Draco started up again, cheerily and still smirking.

Well, not that it was really a smirk, Ron thought, but more like a genuine smile; something Ron didn't think he ever saw Draco express. Still in shock over the Slytherin's sharp switch of disposition, he responded, "Wit-sharpening," as he sniffed the liquid. The petrol his dad used for the flying car smelled better.

Wrinkling his nose, Draco laughed at the redhead. "It's perfect for you, Weasel. You'll be tested since there is no way my wit needs any improving," he responded as he slung the bottle back for a few gulps. A sigh of relief escaped his liquor-lacquered lips and he set the bottle on the table next to Ron.

"So this is…muggle alcohol?" Ron questioned, still afraid to take a sip.

Draco smiled and put his hands upon his hips, "Why yes it is Ronald. It's quite powerful as well, but delicious once you get its acquired taste. My, my, you're quick on the uptake tonight," he teased before heading over to his bookcases. "Enjoy some and make yourself comfortable," he said, eyes scanning his collection.

Making another face, Ron put his lips to the rim and allowed the clear liquor to infiltrate his mouth. Swishing a small amount inside, he quickly felt compelled to swallow and it burned on the way down his throat. Ron closed his eyes and tried to scrape the taste off his tongue with his teeth, "Gods Malfoy, trying to poison me?" he accused the blonde.

Draco looked over his shoulder to see the redhead's obvious discontent and suppressed laughter, "Of course not Weasley…too much explanation would be necessary. Can you not stomach it?" he asked after he grabbed the desired potion book.

"How can you stomach it?" Ron question as Draco was transfiguring a cup of water for him.

"I've gotten used to it overtime," he shrugged in response, dropping the book on the carpet and grabbing the bottle. Ron followed Draco's lead to sit on the immensely comfortable rug below. Draco sat on his knees; head tiled back as he ingested more of the icky petrol water. "Plus, it helps me think," the blonde added, nodding and smiling, before setting the bottle aside.

He took a second to ponder the situation and was surprised how things were going. Draco was talkative, offering him untainted alcohol, and hell, even moving…a huge step up from earlier today. "Well, you're not getting drunk until this project is finished," Ron threatened the now pouting Slytherin.

"Lighten up, Weasley. We have to do a report and that's it, right?" he asked, flipping through his textbook.

It was one Ron had not recognized, fully black and with no writing on its spine or covers. He eyes him suspiciously and nodded. "Uses, history, and a sample…" he trailed off before giving into his curiosity. "That's not a dark arts book is it?" he demanded more than asked.

Draco looked up and smirked, eyes slightly hazy at this point. "Silly, paranoid, Weasel. It's just a potions text," he assured the Gryffindor, flipping to its first page entitled, 'Advanced Potions'. "Does not say 'for the dark arts'…seriously, where do you get such ideas?" he dismissed the redhead and took another swig, seemingly calmer with each bit that disappeared from the bottle.

"Oh, I can think of more than a few reasons…" Ron pushed.

"Yeah?" Draco snapped. His lighthearted, languid mood slipping away as quick as it moved in. "Just like all the other Slytherin, I'm this slimy, Death Eater just waiting to kiss Voldie's ass, right?"

"Well you are a Malfoy…" Ron protested.

"That should excuse me from your ludicrous reasoning! Just because I'm a pureblooded Slytherin, doesn't mean I will become evil, Weasel," he spat back.

Ron sat up, leaning into the furious blonde, reciprocating the anger, "Being pureblood has nothing…"

"I know Weasley! That's the point! We're pureblood, we shouldn't have to listen to some half-blooded warmonger because we're better than him…" Draco leaned into Ron back, pulsing with frustration. Ron could feel the heat radiating from the Slytherin and he was sure he could feel his too.

"But your father…" Ron reminded.

"…Is a flaming ball of shit, I know," the blonde leaned back onto his heels, groaning. "I don't have to follow his every whim and command…I'm not his fucking lap dog!" from this point, the yelling ceded, opting for a calmer approach. "You see your siblings, like Fred and George…do you think they fulfill your parents ideals for an heir?"

"My parents don't care whether we are well mannered and proper, Ferret…all they want is our happiness," Ron retorted sternly. "Now if you're insinuating anything about my parents…" his hands fisted in preparation for what always happened when that is the case.

"No. Listen to me Weasel," Draco reasoned, leaning back in to look Ron in the eye. "We're not that different, you and I…my father doesn't care as much about reputation and that shit anymore. Voldemort has already humiliated him by having to be a Death Eater and even just complying with him," he said sternly, eyes not faltering the blue ones piercing his. "If your stupid saviour can get everyone in the clear, my father will just be happy being alive. As long as I make an heir with a pureblood, and not fully dry up our savings before he dies, he doesn't care what I do."

Ron blinked a few times, breaking the bond between their gazes, but not moving. Trying to clear the confusion he inquired, "So why such a bastard…and why are you always comatose and looking like you're half way to death?" the former with persistence but the latter with a twinge of concern.

Draco shrugged but felt compelled to answer to the darting eyes. His arm reached out to grab the bottle once again but felt Ron stopping him. Placing it back down, his eyes did not leave Ron's. "It's actually very enjoyable, seeing you in such a distressed state from a few words off my tongue," he replied arrogantly. "The way you get so offended and protective over your friends and family…it's funny."

Ron scowled but wanted to move on before getting any angrier with the Slytherin. "And you passed out all the time…I doubt you lose sleep over anything I say in return…"

"Don't flatter yourself. I've had problems with insomnia ever since I came here first year. The actual blame is the alcohol," he looked over to the bottle, "My sweet, sweet release into sleep."

"But not at appropriate times. You must know that's not healthy," Ron scolded.

Draco just stared blankly into the concerned blue eyes. "Yes, but it's easier than dealing with the rest of the world," he exclaimed with mock dramatics, leaning back and placing a hand on his forehead. He soon tilted back into his previous position, right in front of Ron. "I hate Slytherins. So complacent and compliant with this stupid Death Eater's club…cult…however you word that gang of imbeciles. I don't have to hear about their marks, and their pressure for me to get mine, if I'm sleeping or they're not attached to my leg, like some horny dog, all the time."

He dropped his head down when he caught up to what he was saying. He was spilling everything to an enemy, not something on his list of things to do when drunk, but he decided to continue because he was already this far in. "I mean I love the house and everything it used to stand for. Slytherin had changed from powerful to deadly and I'd rather not be near the bastards I call friends on a day-to-day basis," the rant elicited a huge sigh from the drained blonde.

His voice wasn't laced with venom or sarcasm or anything, just pure exhaustion.