At first this was just some one-shot with a bit of ust on Draco's side but some requested a continuation so...here it is!

You guys know how much I love pwp and stupid humour...not so good with angst. I keep dipping into it but the water's still too cold for me to just jump right in.

Cassie x

Chapter 2

The obtrusive shining light awoke the disconcerted Gryffindor. The sun's mid-setting position indicated it was way later than the last time he opened his eyes. The pain suddenly intruding his semi-conscious state also proved that he indeed did fall asleep and for quite a while since the painkillers had well worn off.

Realizing that the sheets surrounding him were partly to blame for the harsh reflections of the sun and being an immense source of comfort at the same time, along with the fact that they were not his because of these reasons, led him to the conclusion that he was definitely still in Draco's room.

Afraid to move for the already painful condition his arm was in, his clouded eyes scanned the ceiling and worked their way down the walls. Spotting a patch of blonde resembling a head, Ron saw that Draco had returned from wherever he said he needed to go off to and was busy at his desk, writing a parchment for some class.

The small pink tongue darting out to aid in articulating a phrase needed for the report was tempting the redhead, along with the clothing that he was wearing. His button up shirt was riding up as he was hunched over; Ron got a clear view of the smooth creamy back and indents on his lower back that he personally wouldn't have a problem seeing more often, and from a different angle.

Adjusting his position slightly to get a better view of the blonde, he hissed at the stab of pain that shot through the arm he was using for support. Turning to face the sound, the Slytherin caught Ron wincing and struggling to sit up. The groggy and dishelved redhead made Draco smile as he commented, "I was going to wake you up but I wasn't sure how easily you'd wake with your fatigue and painkillers."

Running a hand through the hair that was currently sticking up in all places, Ron yawned between fragments, "S'okay…I'm a pretty sound sleeper…can get rather violent…good you didn't try."

Looking down at the mess of sheets, Ron ran his finger along the coiling and wavy imprinted patterns, obviously very expensive, and comfortable. It might have just been his post-orgasmic haze but the sheets offered direct consolation that he took full advantage of. His deep concentration, or lack of, was interrupted by Draco's concern, "Well, how's your wrist feeling?"

Following the Slytherin's gaze to his arm, Ron shrugged. "When I first woke up, it killed. The pain has subsided slightly so it's only dull now…" he realized, blaming his attention being put forth on Draco and his incredibly comfy bed. "…But the meds definitely have worn off."

Resisting an urge to get up and examine the wrist other than with his eyes, Draco nodded and suggested, "You should go back to Pomfrey then…will she give you more?"

"Oh yeah, I'm allowed them every 6 hours until the bloody potion arrives," Ron responded, resting back on the headboard and pulling his knees towards his chest.

"Do they typically knock you out that quick and make you snore, or are you always that obnoxious in your sleep?" Draco quipped, noting these behaviors as he came back to the dorm only 10 minutes after he left to see Ron fast asleep under the covers.

Ron laughed, "I snored?"

The blonde nodded in agreement, "You must have been dreaming about something real nice or horrid…couldn't tell the difference, when you tossed and turned as much as you did."

"Must have been a side effect to the drugs. I have no recollection of what I dreamed about so it must have not been that important," Ron shrugged.

"Well you're very overdue for your next dose," Draco replied, setting down his quill that succeeded to drip readily on his light jeans.

Squinting to find a clock, Ron groaned slightly and half inquired, half whined, "What time is it?"

"About 4…your air conditioning is back on as well," the Slytherin informed him, who was slowly getting up to wipe off the collective ink stain.

Ron nodded in acknowledgement and slid out from under the sheets, his bare feet shocked at the cold tiled floor. Putting his arms out in front of him and stretching. Almost immediately Draco gave up his effort to rid his jeans of the stain and shucked them off, throwing them in the nearest trash bin. Ron, wide eyed and expectant, was slightly disappointed to find that Draco wore boxer briefs…but then again those were rather fitting so he thought he shouldn't complain.

Another thought that came up was why he would care about Draco? Before this afternoon he never fancied him or anything; now he can't keep his eyes off of him. He also noticed that Draco didn't go back to work, but had his eyes on him too…well he was rather staring him down and it made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

Clearing his throat in an accusatory manner, when Draco's eyes reached his inquisitive face the blonde semi-suppressed a smile. "You shouldn't be the one making disapproving sounds," he replied and glanced back at Ron's waist. Following the path of sight, Ron came to realize that he was still unzippered and…hanging out.

Blushing, not because of the modesty, but because Draco was still staring, he casually adjusted himself and fixed his jeans. The one day he didn't bother with pants…it was way too hot, was his logic, and obviously it didn't come in handy. With a self-satisfied smirk, Draco sat down, picked his quill up once again, and began to write.

Looking around to amuse himself, Ron walked over to Draco's desk and placed a stabilizing hand against a book to the blonde's immediate left. "What'cha working on?" Ron inquired, peeking over Draco's shoulder.

Glancing up with a harmless snarl, Draco retorted, sounding not at all amused, "History of Magic. I decided to focus on the history of dueling."

Licking his lips, Ron nodded, "Find anything interesting?" He was going to distract him if he had to jump into his lap and start kissing him in his chair.

Draco recanted a few facts and stats, none of which Ron caught, as his attention was focused on the Slytherin's lips. The movement as he spoke led Ron to believe that whatever he said would be fascinating and worth listening to. If he decided to teach History of Magic instead of Binns, he certainly wouldn't be falling asleep ever again.

It wasn't until Draco made eye contact with the spaced-out blues that he mentioned a bit about prostitutes, fairies, and rent boys holding orgies on the dueling 'battlefield'. Unsure if what he just heard was spoken or just in his fleeting imagination, Ron blinked and refocused on the silver orbs staring at him, "Sorry?" he choked out.

Draco's attention shifted back to his book, stifling a smirk, "Nothing," he assured the redhead.

Shrugging and dismissing his previous thoughts, Ron kept his posture and his gaze bore into Draco's neck. Small observations about the blonde's skin and features we're being noted down in a mental notebook of Ron's as Draco was reading something over. Purposefully keeping his distance normally from the Slytherin, the sharp angles of his cheekbones and soft lines of his lips in particular were new discoveries that interested the redhead; even a couple of freckles were spotted on his neck.

After a minute or so, his mind scrambled of what to say next, in fear that Draco would get suspicious of his close proximity. The boy mentioned, conversely, hadn't written a word after Ron chose to join him near his desk. The presence radiated in the darkening room and the bright locks accentuated by the sun gave Draco a reason to believe that he wouldn't get anything more accomplished while he was there. The biggest distraction, however, was the unstable breathing of his that was brushing up against his neck, causing his hairs to stiffen, among other things.

"Your room is messier than I thought," Ron commented lazily, breaking Draco's concentration shift.

Scoffing, Draco replied, "Probably better than yours and Potter's. Living the way you do elsewhere suggests much, in that pigsty with all the other redheaded animals…"

"Watch it," Ron warned. "Gods, why do you have to ever open your mouth?" Ron asked the floor, where his glare was averted to, preventing additional anger, and sighed.

"Excuse me, Weasley?" the blonde demanded, indignant.

Ignoring the petition for an explanation, Ron continued, "I just figured it would be spotless and pristine, like how you always try to present yourself."

"Well, your bed making skills haven't helped the mess…" Draco noted, glancing over his shoulder.

Eyes still lowered, Ron bit his lip, not sure how far he was to push. "Sorry I took up your studying realm. You should of woke me," he admitted. "Plus how do you expect me to make a bed without a) prior knowledge or b) my arm?"

The blonde shrugged and opened up his book as a distraction, "Well now you're up, you should be going then…"

Putting a hand on the cover under the book and closing it, Ron looked Draco in the eye to ask, "Why?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco simply stated, "I don't want your friends thinking I kidnapped you or something."

"That's not a bad proposal…rather it's a very interesting idea," Ron commented, raising his eyebrow.

Batting away the injured arm that made its way to the back of his chair, enclosing him, Draco laughed and sought out his page again while Ron kept his look in earnest. "Your lack of a typical witty response fuels my theory that you'd rather like that…" the Gryffindor challenged. "It beats living with four other people…" he thought in his mind, rationalizing the off-hand comment.

Pointing to a section in the text, Draco wrote down a line and then smirked at the anticipating boy. "Not in your condition, Weasley," he dismissed him, glancing at the cast.

"Care to escort me to Pomfrey's to see if she has the potion?" Ron asked, handing the blonde the ink for his sated quill, after furious writing occurred in the past half minute.

Turning around his chair, Draco looked the redhead in the eye before folding his arms, leaning back, and replying, "Three things. I don't care…you know it's not in yet…and I have to get this done before Quidditch tonight…I do fail to see the point, however. If you are going to be out long enough to practice, without any decent players to sub, you'd rather forfeit than play us and get beaten horrendously."

"Well I'm not leaving before I get what I want," Ron attested, huffing. He saw what Draco's tight black boxer briefs could not hide and impatience was kicking in.

Looking up, he nodded indifferently, "Right. I forgot. The sage is in my trunk in a white box. Help yourself."

Seeing the calculated look on the Gryffindor's face sink and make the other connection, Draco internally laughed at the trap. Feeling quite dejected, and not to mention angry at his impassiveness, Ron took a sufficient amount and slipped on his shoes. "You do realize I'm still going to need help with this…" Ron reminded, trying to throw another hint in as he slid his robe on.

Draco smiled and shook his head, "You're hopeless Weasley…I hope you're not planning on taking Advanced Potions any time in life."

Ron smirked and put his uninjured arm upon his waist, "If I do take it, it'll be to spite you."

"Now why would you go and do such a thing like that? What reason is there for myself to be spited?" Draco asked innocently.

Ron stared blankly at the blonde, "Well the fact that you don't take hints well, i.e. the 'help' I'll be in need of is not with Potions but with what you offered earlier. Now if you wish to be repaid you'll meet me at the seventh floor staircase tonight at 11…" he ordered before storming out the door.