Disclaimer: (Yawn) Sigh, I don't own Harry Potter. I doubt J.K. Rowling would sell to my bid of $14.58. I'm going in increments of a penny.

Author's Note: Thanks to all the reviewers, who have taken an interest in my little pet project. Hm... anyone else bummed that Oliver Wood graduated? No more chances to see Sean Biggerstaff (kind of a dirty last name if you think hard about it, heh heh).

Malfoy and Me
A Big Mouth

(Ron's POV)

My first priority was to secure that adventurous notebook back into my book bag. It wasn't going to escape me anymore. Boy, I narrowly dodged an embarrassing episode, didn't I?

The one time I decided to write my essay on time, that was when the majority of the class decided not to. Professor Flitwick in his usual quiet demeanour expressed his disappointment, then proceeded to give us the remainder of the period to complete it. More or less, it was a free period.

While Hermione was getting a head start on the lesson after tomorrow's (mind you, she spent yesterday studying for today, so now she was two classes ahead), I used my leisure time to wonder...

Do other people do what I did? Did they think the same filthy things, or have the same dirty minds? Did they experiment with the same sex? Surely I must not be the only one. I recalled Fred or George telling me about this when I was younger, but I thought they were joking. Maybe it was just the Weasley genes.

Harry wasn't doing anything of particular interest, so I decided to ask him. Quite casually though, I didn't want to leave too much out in the open.

"So," I turned to him and interrupted his lone pencil racing game and blurted, "How's the stool, you tiny fool?"

Whoops. That wasn't quite as subtle as I had hoped to be.

Luckily, Harry took my comment literally. He glanced down at his seat and shrugged. "And it's not my fault I look small in front of you. You're just unnaturally tall."

I grinned. Since he had such an innocent, uncorrupted mind, I might as well set the seeds of perversion. He'd either thank me or beat the hell out of me for it later. "I bet if you grew an extra quarter inch, you'd be totally set."

Harry gave a totally confused, naive look in my direction. "What is an extra quarter inch going to do?"

"It'll make your preference of gender--"

"Ahem!" Hermione, who had the wonderfully frightful talent of understanding everything, interrupted. "Ron, I think that's enough." She grimaced knowingly.

"How the heck do you understand what I'm talking about when Harry doesn't?" I demanded. Did she just know every little particle of information?

"I come from the Muggle world, remember? Over there, they're a lot more blatant and open about this kind of thing."

"Yeah, well so are Fred and George."

"What are you two talking about?" Harry piped up.

"Nothing!" Hermione and I yelped in unison.

Was Hermione really the quiet, unassuming angel of a student we all knew her as? Or did have something raw inside her that none of us knew about? "You know something, Hermione, you're something special," I informed her with a suggestive (but purely innocent) wink.

"Yeah?" she snapped, taking my comment as an insult. "And you're something utterly foul."

Ouch.

Even her burns were boring.

Harry had his back arched so his face was down, looking around at his feet. "Why did you ask me about my stool? Did you do something to it?"

Don't give me fodder, Potter. Please, don't.

Hermione let out an uncharacteristic giggle. "I just noticed something about Harry's stool. It has four legs."

With that comment, I burst into uncontrollable laughter. Not only because it was funny, but because of all people to say that, it was Hermione.

"What are you two talking about?" Harry roared, practically flipping over his stool. You know, the deviated (or advantaged, if you will) one that the school provided. "Is it some sort of inside joke that I don't know about, because it better be!"

"It's nothing, we're sorry Harry," apologized Hermione sincerely.

"Yeah," I tempted. "Sorry that you're--"

"Ron, I swear," Hermione warned forebodingly. She enunciated each word slowly so there would not be any misunderstanding. "If you say anything, I will kick you so hard down there that you'll never have kids."

Harry didn't seem to be interested in our prattle anymore. He yawned and glanced at the clock. "Still about half an hour until class is over. This is so boring."

When Harry yawned, I couldn't suppress my own. I had stayed up late last night to finish my Charms essay, and my lack of sleep took a toll on my stamina. I wanted nothing more than to go to bed and sleep a dreamless, undisturbed sleep. "Yeah. I think I'm going to take a nap." I rested my head on the hard stone desk and allowed my heavy eyelids to droop.

"...Oh my God, you have two!" Malfoy grinned hungrily. His hand stroked the insides of my thigh so softly that I giggled.

"That's right, baby," I confirmed for him. "To increase the pleasure."

With his trademark smirk, he bent down and enclosed both my cocks in the warm caverns of his mouth. He began to suck, lightly then firmly, in this continuous pattern. I let out a moan of pleasure...

"Ron... Ron!" Someone was shaking my shoulder.

I moaned eagerly.

"Ron, wake up! Class is over!"

"Whah?" I pulled my head up and rubbed my eyes.

Harry and Hermione both stared down at me, with identical smiles on their faces. "What were you dreaming about?" Harry asked.

I sent him a suspicious glance. "Why?"

"You looked awfully happy during your nap." They were both still grinning. It annoyed me to no end. Not only because their both were making malicious faces at me, but because they disrupted my wonderful dre-... a good energy-boosting rest.

"I like to sleep," I told them simply.

My explanation seemed to please both of them, and they dropped the subject while walking to The Great Hall for dinner. But I couldn't help contemplating it further. I wrote the story down on paper. I used my imaginative capacity to its fullest, yet I still continue to dream? It didn't fit into the regular routine of losing interest after entertaining the idea with a little writing. How could that be?

Maybe my dreams were true. Maybe I did like Malfoy after all.

(Draco's POV)

Seriously, Weasel was going to get everything coming to him. I was going to guarantee it. He was descending up the entrance to the dining room, and I wanted to confront him right there and then.

"Weasley!" I pounced in front of him.

I saw Potter and Granger roll their eyes. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Potter deadpanned.

My eyes never left Weasley. He was blushing slightly. "You little..." I began through gritted teeth. "I read what you wrote."

Weasley gasped in surprise. "Uh--"

"Well?"

He hesitated, then gestured for his friends to leave him alone.

"Are you sure?" Potter asked. He didn't care more about his friend than he did about looking like a hero, if you ask me.

He nodded densely. With a shrug, Potter and Granger disappeared to my relief. The less people who knew about this, the better.

I waited until the stream of students had dissipated before I finally put him under scrutiny. I forced him onto a wall for intimidation purposes, my wand on his throat and asked, "Why did you do it? Why the hell would you do that?"

Weasley swallowed audibly, his whole body shaking in fear.

I actually had not rehearsed this encounter, so I allowed whatever that came into mind escape out. "You're pathetic enough that you have to write this stuff? Wait, what am I saying? Of course you are! You're just that much of a loser, aren't you?"

His eyes glazed with frightened tears, but he still remained silent.

"Answer me!"

"I... I don't know... I didn't mean to... I'm sorry..." he choked out in a whisper.

"Oh yeah?" I sneered. "Not as sorry as you're going to be." I pressed the wand in my hand deeper into his neck until he struggled for breath.

"I said I was sorry," he croaked out hoarsely. "Please, don't..."

But Weasley deserved it. He really did deserve it. "Densaugeo!"

On cue, my victim's teeth began to grow largely out of proportion. I hopped out of the way to observe my handiwork. Weasely slapped his hands over his mouth, but other than that, he stayed immobile.

I cursed at him. My spell didn't seem to be much of a punishment. "Why don't you just run away?" I demanded.

"Because I did something stupid, and I want to apologize," Weasley insisted, his voice muffled through his closed hands. Was it me, or did he really seem sincere in making amends

"I don't want an apology from you, I want revenge," I told him, my face hot with rage. "You little faggot."

He unexpectantly burst into tears, and clumsily dashed off down the hall. His loud sobs and gawky, quick-paced footing echoed through the empty corridors. I hated Weasley. His stupid red hair, his stupid family, I hated everything about him.

But maybe at that moment, I hated myself more.

Author's Note: Ugh, I feel so dirty about that scene with the blow job. Yes, very short, but I don't write smut. That was the first time I wrote anything close to smut. I've only got one or two chapters left coming. Yes, so I'd be thankful if you'd review.