Putting off reading some feminist (yet boring) crap due tomorrow for AP English...wOOt. Over the upcoming holiday break I've told myself that I am going to write at least 15 pages so look forward to those! Some comments before hand though:

First off, an apology to Miss Luna C. I was quite confused by your review at first. I re-read the chapter you reviewed and now I totally understand how youcame to the conclusion you did. In all honesty it's not what I think at all and I didn't mean it to come off like it did. I'll change the wording of that because it's definitely not a decision, my apologies. (In fact, I'm in total agreement of the theory of it being in your genes, et al.)

UniquePiksi- I had to ask my lovely friend Brad about the term -glomping- (I'm so behind the times haha) but thankies!

Speaking of Brad, I tried putting some angst in but as I was going, it just ended up being as I Heart DM 11 wished! I started an angsty slash that I'll be posting soon so watch out for that!

I Heart DM 11- I'm totally one of those girlies who giggles at boys too, s'all good! (Urgh I hate the term "fag hag" but it describes us I guess)

Thanks to the other Ron and Draco lovers, I'm totally devoting my writing solely to these two from now on because of you guys.

Okay after this chapter, I might do what my friend and fellow slasher (anonymous slashlover) does...emailing people with comments because this takes up too much space and I hate leaving people out! (So if you'd like to chat, make sure to have your email cough-anonymous users-cough) My a/n's are long enough as is; i.e. filled with me making up shit excuses at to why I am/haven't been writing.

I promise I'll add more within the next 2 days, I know I left it at a rather interesting part but I really need to start reading for English -prays to whoever for 2-hour delay- Yay snow!

Anyways, on to the story!

Cassie x


Chapter 27

"So when can I..." the door shut in the Ravenclaw's face, interrupting his question with a heavy thump. The boy's features contorted to joy, confusion, and sadness within a 10 second grace period.

On the other side of the door came another resounding thump after it was ensured that Anthony was gone, departing with a rather loud "wanker". The head of wild red hair came in contact with the deep brown wood, hard. Eyes squinted; a hand smoothed the sore section and reached for his wand.

Almost calling a fling by the wrong name; an accident.

Almost calling said fling by a previous fling's name; pretty bad.

Almost calling the boy by your enemy's name, who happens to be a previous fling, during sexual intercourse; a near travesty.

Casting a silencing spell on his bed, Ron climbed into the four poster mini chamber and spent a total of 45 seconds staring at its ceiling before getting up again, his mind filled with accusations and ideas that he did not want to think about. He needed to get as far away from a bed, tables, sofas, squiggly chairs, and all the other equipment that has sufficed for himself with another person, as possible since actions on those furnishings appear to be the only thing he's been up to lately.

Feeling sick at this realization, the Gryffindor stormed out of the tower. Flashing his prefect badge to anyone who stopped him without a second glance or pause; his sight fixed on the nearest exit. It wasn't late at all so he wasn't sure as to why the throngs of prefects were out…but then again he's skirted off the past three meetings this week.

Once outside, the warm, intoxicating breeze calmed the redhead instantly. This spring evening was silent and peaceful, save the muffled shouting carried by the wind on the opposite side of the castle, the Quidditch pitch.

Ron decided to see who was practicing, hoping it wasn't it another Gryffindor one he "forgot" about. He also hoped it would be someone else so he could catch some new trick or technique and share it with the team, who would then be less upset with him.

Following the dim, falling horizon, the Quidditch pitch was filled with shirtless Slytherins. "Great, of all teams," Ron mumbled, as he took a seat on the ground between the bleachers and the actual pitch, lying down on his elbows. The Gryffindor was wearing muggle clothing, which would be conspicuous enough to a Slytherin, but it wasn't as bad as wearing gold and red. Thoroughly enjoying watching his favourite sport, no matter what medium, he went unnoticed.

About ten minutes in, Ron heard a thunderous crash as a player went down. He himself didn't witness the smash up since he just happened to have been stretching out at the time, eyes closed in the small pleasure of his arms elongated instead of being his main support.

Looking over, he couldn't see who it was because the still evident sun was conveniently blocking his line of sight. All Ron saw was the frail fallen player brush up and start to walk in his general direction. Signaling he was fine, the Slytherin continued his way over to the Gryffindor and by the time his body blocked the sun and revealed himself, he was right in front of Ron.

Wincing slightly, Ron gulped and cursed himself for even coming here momentarily at the sight of the sopping wet blonde hair being forced back, exposing quite a incensed look.

"What are you doing here Weasel?" the familiar blonde spat out, "Trying to check me out? Must be hard without binoculars all the way up there…"

Ron scowled at Draco's tone, "No, but I am terribly disappointed to have missed your tumble to the earth," he teased.

"I had to get your attention somehow. I doubt you were even watching us play with your daydreaming," Draco snapped back, not blaming his own lack of attention to the game, as it was on the Gryffindor below, being the real reason he fell.

"Actually, I came here to steal some secrets or new tricks," Ron all too casually informed the blonde.

Draco snorted, "Tricks? Don't you already have a new one? Or do you show every one your affection by feeding them at the dinner table?" he insinuated with more venom than his house's mascot could produce in its lifetime. "Or is this like that Finnegan kid who you'll shag to make someone jealous?"

Ron briefly considered the coincidence, revealing his agreement with a small smile that wasn't halted before Draco caught it. "Who is it this time?" Draco edged on.

"There had to be someway we could get out of the whole 'break up' without either of us looking bad," Ron answered, offering a hand for Draco to help him up.

Draco knowingly smirked as he assisted him but a beater shouting, "You coming back up Drac-?" interrupted his thought process. In reply, the blonde yelled back, "I can barely walk straight, you think I can fly?! I'm going off to see Pomfrey."

The smirking Slytherin threw his Quidditch duffel bag in Ron's arms, in which the grumbling Gryffindor slung it around his shoulder. Draco grabbed the opposite arm and placed it around his waist for "support" as the blonde limped along.

"So why aren't you with your trick right now, shagging his brains out?" Draco had to pose.

Ron shrugged, "I just had. Needed some fresh air before getting some Potions studying done." Draco wrinkled his nose in protest.

As soon as they were out of sight of the players, Draco stopped limping and smiled at the redhead. "Easy way to get out of practice. Should try that more often," he nodded. Ron's arm lingered on Draco's slick, bare back until he saw Draco stare at his opposite hip and Ron moved to wipe his hand on his jeans.

Embarrassed, Ron wanted to move thoughts in Draco's mind from where he thought they would be, "Do I have to carry your stuff to Pomfrey's?" he asked.

Draco stopped to glance at Ron, "Oh come on, I'm perfectly tip top! The team figured I'm frail and fragile just because I'm skinny and pale."

"Or because you suck at Quidditch, hence the fall, and are dramatic and whiny?" Ron pleasantly added.

Draco sighed, "Oh sod off, you're much worse than me. Besides, I'm only dramatic when I want to get out of something that I don't want to do!"

"Fine, what to do now?" he asked, sighing.

"Well, I can't go back to the dungeons just yet, people will ask what happened and I don't feel like talking to them, let alone explaining things," he rolled his eyes, then looked down at his state, "but I do need to clean up. Guess I'll head down to the Quidditch showers, they won't be done for another hour."

"That's a long time you'll have to stay busy for," Ron commented.

"True," Draco shrugged, "I would invite you to help me out but since you have Potions studying…"

Any thoughts of studying for Ron vanished sooner than a dessert item in front of Crabbe and Goyle. He hid his expectancy with a laugh, "You don't need help you big faker…you said so yourself, you're fine."

"But still, I can think of other things to bide our time. You remembered that far back? Maybe my comprehension skills have rubbed off on you," Draco suggested with mock surprise.

Ron snorted, "Cum is the only thing of yours that has rubbed off on me, bottom boy."

"You say it like those are bad things?" Draco smirked, leading the direction to the Slytherin Quidditch showers. "You know you love it," he teased.

"I lov-" Ron rapidly cut off his vocal thought and froze momentarily. Surely he was not about to slip those words out? Quickly he reorganized the sentence, "Fine, I concede, I'll admit that if it'll get you on your back any sooner," unsuspecting to Draco.

"Well well, after only six hours of courtship you've already forgotten about your boyfriend," Draco replied with an acerbic touch, "Shall I inform him of your intentions?"

"Too late, I already broke it off," Ron told the scheming Slytherin. "Well, I kinda slammed the door in his face and…he probably got the message."

The snarky smile the blonde possessed earlier changed to a smirk of success. "Oh and the relationship looked so promising," he commented with over saturated sincerity.

Ron smiled, "Surprised you don't know me that well already."

"I know you pretty well anatomically and that's all that matters," Draco replied with a simper.

The redhead raised his eyebrows, "How well Draco?"

"Well enough to get you begging, panting, and on your knees at sensitive spots," he shrugged, "Or maybe you're just so pliable because of the fact that I'm doing those things to you, or that I'm even there."

Ron stepped up onto the platform in front of the door, "You're there, ready and willing to suck my cock? Yeah…that's definitely something that'll get me hard."

"Aren't you the romantic?" Draco cooed smartly.

Ron shrugged, "I can be romantic but that's not what you want."

"How do you figure that?" Draco inquired, unlocking and opening the door to the changing rooms. Ron laughed and shook his head, walking in. Draco leaned against the door once it closed. "You find the concept amusing?"

"I do because you're the one who doesn't want any kind of relationship," Ron stated, remembering back to his words at the Astronomy Tower.

Draco glared at Ron, hands placed on his hips, silver eyes boring into his blue, "Oh, like you do?"

The Gryffindor laughter subsided, saying soberly, "True, but I'm not the one who brought it up."

"Yeah," Draco lifted his back from the door, slightly stretching, "You're far from it anyways."

Ron sighed, "Didn't we just go through this? Don't underestimate me; I can be as sweet as a chocolate frog." He smiled.

"Prove it," Draco thought but didn't vocalize. "You're as unhealthy as one too," he Draco added smirking as he swaggered closer to the redhead.

Unwilling to argue to that point as well, he dropped Draco's Quidditch bag down, "If I concede, will you stop talking and apply your lips for better usage?"

"Two admission of defeats in ten minutes? In theory, you should be the bottom," Draco commented.

"Nuh-uh. Not happening." Ron shook his head, finalizing his answer.

Draco threw his hands up in mock attestation, "I wasn't suggesting! Besides, sexual positioning seem to oppose general disposition…"

Ron laughed, "Like yourself. Who would of figured a bratty dignified Malfoy would be the one taking it?"

"and getting it from a Weasley?"

"Multiple times," Ron added.

Draco didn't want to respond to that because he knew it could lead to many other things, like why he was doing this, and he did not want to admit anything to himself or the boy in front of him. So the blonde shrugged and changed the subject, "The mental images of you getting it from Finnegan still are clear in my mind."

"Voyeuristic. Is it making you hard?" the Gryffindor took a step forward, keeping his stare into the silver eyes.

"Finnegan on my chair? No, you'll have to somehow erase that from my mind or else I'll never get hard again." Ron's sudden hands on his Quidditch shorts snapped the band against his sweaty hip.

"Somehow," Ron repeated before slipping his hands inside with a smile.