Title:Unexpected Encounter
Pairing:Draco/Ron, hints of Harry/Lavender and one-sided Ron/Harry
Rating:PG-13/R
Genre:Romance, Comedy, General
Warnings:Yaoi, Coarse Language, Sexual Situations
A/N:I really tried to keep Draco in character, I really did! But...alas, I think I failed. I was thinking ahead and seeing how he would act at that age. Plus, he was alone and it's after Voldemort was defeated and..yeah. Just think that Draco was never asked to kill , mmkay? And that he never wanted to be a Death Eater. That should hopefully help. If not, then...I'm sorry. (bows low) Forgive me!

Disclaimer:No, I do not own Harry Potter, Draco, Ron, Lavender, Hermione, or anything of that nature. J.K.Rowling does. And sweet Jesus, if I did though, Harry Potter would be a very...VERY...dirty book. x3 Not meant for small children...However, I do own the nameless bartender. (pets him) Actually, he does have a name, but I didnt put it in. Why? Cuz he's actually one of my characters that I just shoved in cuz I felt like it. Dont like it? Dont whine to me!
"Oi. Give me another would ya?" I murmured, giving the bartender an empty look as he nodded, reaching for another mug. Filling it up and sliding it down the counter towards me, I pulled the glass to my lips, taking a long, satisfying gulp.

Sighing heavilly, I idly fingered the handle while giving the room a lazy scan. Not a lot of people came here at this hour and I was glad to be out of the public's eye for a while. A few shady characters and someone who looked oddly familier fell under my vision path as I took another sip of fire whiskey. Sheer boredom was the cause of my sudden interest in that certain someone who sat over 9 stools away from me.

Who are you? I thought, wiping my mouth with the back of a pale hand as I observed the tall figure at the other end of the counter, hunched over a half-full glass and speaking in hushed tones with the barkeep. Short red hair, freckles, not exactly high quality clothes...

Hell, it could be anybody. Being Draco Malfoy entitled me to knowing quite a few people in the last 19 years of my life. Convicted of being a Death Eater doesnt help matters either.

Deciding to take a closer look, I stood to my feet and lazilly walked down the bar, taking a slow gulp of my drink in order to look less suspicious. As I moved closer, bits of their conversation fell on my keen hearing.

"...gone off with that bitch again...cant stand her...it's just cuz she puts out, ya know? Freakin' whore. Just spreads her legs and let's anything with a dick in. Unnn...get me another please?" Sitting a good 3 stools away from the guy, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Downing the rest of the warm liquid, he slammed the mug down, allowing a trail of alcohol to ease out of the corner of his mouth and slide down to his chin. Either he didn't care or he was too drunk to notice.

I chose to go with the latter.

"Fucking tramp...what's Harry see in her anyways?" At that name, it finally hit me. My eyes widened as he straightened his back, raking a hand through his messy hair. I'd never forget that face.

"Weasley..."

"Huh?...wha? Someone call me?" Half-lidded eyes scanned the bar for the source of the call, finally resting on me. A drunken hiccup and a slight wobble in the stool followed his gaze as I sneered.

"Ron Weasley...knew I'd recognized you're mudblood-loving face from the other side of the room." I expected him to snap back at me, make a wise crack or at least make somewhat of a glare, but instead, continued to stare at me, flushed cheeks almost matching the color of his hair. I was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable as the man placed a full mug in front of him and snatched the empty one to wash.

"You...You look familier ya know?" I gaped at him, but soon recovered from the shock as I realized the Gryffindor's current state of mind. Piss drunk and angry from what I overheard. I suppose recognizing me was out of the question.

"Someone from school maybe?...or just someone bumped into on the street...never sure...come sit over here." He gestured to the empty stool on his right. "I can look at you better.." Not feeling too good with that last sentence, I obliged anyways; picking up my glass and moving to sit next to him.

Gulping down the rest of my fire whiskey, I choked slightly as I felt Ron's fingers playing with my platinum hair. He had his elbow on the counter, head in palm, while he tugged on a few blonde strands and raked his hand through the hair at the back of my head. Putting down my cup, I was about ready to grab his wrist when I saw the way he was looking at me.

That look...I almost instantly recognized it from back at Hogwarts. Those boring classes that Slytherin shared with Gryffindor where the teacher droned on and on about one thing or another and half the class were already asleep. I would lean back in my chair, idly fingering one of my many expensive quills while I scanned the room. I would heatedly glare at the back of Potter's head, make mocking faces at Granger who would catch me at the corner of her eye and glare back at me before turning her attention back to the teacher, and surprisingly catch Weasley's gaze. Elbow on table, hand in palm, and just...staring at me. Eye's lidded, cheeks slightly flushed. And then, he would finally realize that I caught him, jump slightly and turn back around quickly and noiselessly.

Well, he would try anyways. It normally ended up with his arm hitting his stack of books, sending them toppling over the desk, and his elbow hitting his ink bottle, causing it to tip over and spill all over his parchment of doodles and unwritten notes. The class would erupt into laughter, Potter and Granger would help him clean up his mess, and Gryffindor would lose 10 or so points depending on the teacher.

Shockingly enough, this happened quite frequently. I wondered that if he recognized me, would he recall these memories? Or was I just taking an unnecessary trip down memory lane? Hmph. No matter. When I finally tuned back into reality, I finally noticed that his digits had trailed from my hair, down to my face, and currently caressing my cheek.

"You're really pretty ya know..?" I was taken by surprise at the compliment as I felt blood instantly rising, temperature suddenly raising in the dimly lit pub. His fingers ceased movement and before I knew it, our noses were close enough to touch. I hissed in shock at the close proximity as I could feel each puff of breath leaving his slightly parted lips.

"If you were...a booger, I'd pick you.." My face contorted to a look of confusion and disgust as the Gryffindor burst into a fit of giggles, moving back to plop down in his stool. Shaking my head, I noticed the new full mug in front of me and took a sip, nodding a thanks in the direction of the thin, dark haired bartender.

Fucking drunk, I mused, looking back over to see Ron, once again, hunched over his glass, looking like he was about ready to burst into tears.

"What does he see in her? That fucking wench.."

"Who?" I asked, curious as to who was causing the red-head so much anguish. Not that I cared or anything, just...curious.

"Lavander Brown. Used to date her for some reason back in my 6th year at Hogwarts...bitch...I heard that she's been sleeping around with almost all of the blokes, but to hear that my best mate is snogging her too..hic..stupid scank. I have no fucking clue what he sees in her...dont know what I saw in her.." What? Potter was with Brown? Who would've guessed.

"Jealous?" I added, taking another gulp and smiling into the drink at the boy's angry retort. Denial. I could hear it in his voice. Now, who he was jealous of was beyond me.

"You dont under..." Raising a brow at the sudden silence, I dropped my glass and looked down to see his head resting on his arms, snoring lightly. Staring down at him, I heard the bartender return to grab our mugs.

"Seems like he's out for the night. You taking him home?" I shouldnt. I really shouldnt. Someone might see. A Malfoy taking a drunk Weasley home? What would that look like? But I couldnt just leave him. Poor bastard. For one thing I had no idea where he lived. Another was that I hated him. Or at least...I used to. I was supposed to hate him. He and his whole family were a disgrace to the wizarding name. Looking back at the barkeep, I nodded.

"Yeah. He's going with me."

Kicking the door closed behind me, I walked towards the couch and layed him down gently before leaving his side to retrieve a blanket. So, I took him back to my place. What? I had no where else to take him. Pulling a blanket from the closet, I walked back to Weasley's side and unfolded the green fabric, covering his thin body with it. Quietly sitting on the carpeted floor in front of the couch, I took notice of how tall he had grown. His feet were already hanging over the edge of the couch; the blanket not long enough to cover his entire body.

Pulling off my shoes, I sighed heavilly, raking a hand through my thin hair. Well. I guess this was alright. He can just sleep here tonight and I can kick him out in the morning. Turning slightly to get a better look at his face, I rested my arm on the small space of couch that wasnt taken by his tall frame. He looked peaceful enough, breathing in and out evenly, save for the dark bags under his eyes. I wondered how much Potter was really hurting him.

Standing up, I peeled off my shirt, tossing it to the floor somewhere by the door as I idly scratched my chest. But just as I was about to head to my room, a small sound reached my ears. A moan...a whimper? Glancing back down, I watched as Ron began to shift around in his sleep. His brow creased as he gripped the thin sheet that covered him.

"H..arry...no...dont.." Before I could stop myself, I had already leaned down and ran a comforting hand through his hair, planting a soft kiss on his sweat covered forehead. His movements stopped and I could tell he was relaxing again. But as I was about to pull away, his hand shot out and grabbed my shoulder, eyes opening to lock onto mine. I couldnt read what he was thinking as he tugged on me slightly, trying to let me know what he wanted. When I didn't move, he let me go and sat up on his elbows; just enough to close the gap between us as he pushed his lips against my own. My eyes widened in shock as every nerve in my body went numb. Weasley was..kissing me...And I wasnt pulling away and hexing him.

In fact, I was kissing back. Every coherent thought left my mind as I pushed him down, forcing entry into his mouth as I moved to strattle his thin waist. He tasted of peaches, butterbeer, and fire whiskey. He smelled of country-side, cigarettes, and strawberrys. It was almost intoxicating as hands struggled to find purchase, moans and lustful groans emitting from tightened throats.

Pulling away, but not too far, to gasp for air, I opened my eyes to see Weasley looking back up at me with a seductive glint in his orbs. It was fucking sexy.

"Stay..?" He breathed, licking his lips and swallowing the lump in his throat as I nodded without thinking. Without remembering that this was a Weasley we're talking about. My enemy/rival's best friend. But logic was wasted on deaf ears as hungry mouths crushed against one another, biting and sucking, shaking with need. It was disgusting and yet...perfect.

Roughly shoving the blanket to the ground, I ran my hands up his shirt as we parted lips once again. Ron's hand was tangled in my hair at the back of my head as he locked our heavy gazes for a moment before moving to whisper something in my ear.

"Thanks...Malfoy."

End

A/N:...erm...hi? Review?