Disclaimer: I'd love to say I own Harry Potter. But I don't. I am not allowed to say I own Harry Potter. Saying that I own Harry Potter and JK not owning it would be. Illegal.

Author's Note: It's been three or four months, but I finally got something done. Yes, this is indeed the sequel to Malfoy and Me, but you don't have to read it to get the basic gist of the story. It's pretty self-explanatory. My consistent POV switches still remain intact.

Oh, and I know that there is one particular part in this chapter where Draco goes completely out of character. But I couldn't resist writing it. It would be so cute, huh? When you read it, you'll know what I mean.

Conflictions of Convictions
Strange Relationship

(Ron's POV)

The relationship between Malfoy and I was quite complex. He still continued to deny that it was in anyway a relationship, but it was. We did the two things that were the most apparent in relationships, fight and fuck.

The strange thing was that I immensely enjoyed both. Malfoy wouldn't admit it, but I knew he did too.

Anyway, during our lunch period, we both separately stole away into the conveniently empty Prefects bathroom to discuss our plans for that night. And as usual, Malfoy was being difficult. Not to the extent where I found it unbearable, but still.

"I can't tonight," I told him sternly. "I've got my prefect duties, then a lot of work to finish."

"Who are you trying to fool? Work, whatever. Like you ever gave a shit about school. Besides, I wouldn't care if you had finals tomorrow morning," Malfoy snapped. "You're coming to my room tonight."

"Whah?" My eyes practically popped out of their sockets. "Your room? But that's after hours! And what about your roommates? You didn't tell them anything about us, did you?"

"Don't be silly," Malfoy waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Do I look stupid?"

Was that a trick question? Because I wouldn't say he looked intelligent, albeit very meticulously groomed to the point of paranoia. "Why your room? What's wrong with an empty classroom, or behind the tapestry, or the hallway, or under a table in The Great Hall-"

"You'd settle for that, wouldn't you?" he sneered, refusing to lose his composure while I listed our track record. "Those places are hard, filthy, and dangerous. We'd be much safer somewhere else."

Malfoy saw the disapproving look on my face, and his sneer faltered. "I got a new mattress."

That was awfully tempting. A bouncy surface was always more fun, but I couldn't lose sight of the main issue. "What about Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini? Don't they share the room with you?"

"They'd leave on my command without question," replied Malfoy with an air of confidence that matched his personality. "Besides, they would know that I'm only using you anyway."

I sent an icy glare in his direction. Why do I even put up with him? He has good looks, sure. Oh, and he's got a long... er, forehead.

Malfoy grinned sheepishly and gave me a peck on the cheek. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"You think that's all you have to do to gain my forgiveness? A quick apology, and that's it?"

"Yeah, basically."

He knew me too well.

"But it's not like you can't make one little detour from your work, right?" He closed the distance between us so we were chest to chest. I took in a strong whiff the cologne he had on, that rich bastard. "We always have so much fun..."

I couldn't help the smile that so yearned to be released. Malfoy always knew how to make me submit. I giggled and ran my lips down his neck. "You know what you are, don't you?"

"What?" He was grinning too, one set of fingers running through my hair, the other tugging at the hem of my shirt.

"You're my boyfriend."

Malfoy looked taken aback. "I am no such thing. I have a much better title for what we are, in fact."

His bluntness offended me. I pulled back immediately and crossed my arms over my chest. "Aw yeah? What would that be?"

"We're fuck partners, that's all."

Usually when Malfoy said these kinds of things, he really didn't mean it (or so I thought). But this time, I was thoroughly snubbed. "That's all I am to you, huh? My only purpose is a quick and guiltless bang?"

"Oh come on Weasley, you know what I mean."

"Apparently not," I scoffed with a scowl.

He rested his head on my shoulder, which I quickly rebuffed. A scowl appeared on his face as well. "Honestly, I don't know what the hell you want. Sometimes you act like you want me. Then the other times you like to bitch-for a lack of a better word-about how much you want us to be something more. You're so irresolute. I just don't understand you."

"The reason," I began slowly through gritted teeth. "That you don't understand me is because you've never attempted to take the time to. All you care about is getting laid. So you know what? I'm putting out until you can make a decision."

"A decision?" Malfoy repeated in disbelief. "A decision about what?"

"You know what." And I left him alone in the washroom.

Now that was not an example of our more fascinating arguments. In fact, we were both dead serious. Maybe an ultimatum wasn't exactly the best thing to demand at that moment. What if he decided to leave me for good? I needed him! Not just for sex, but... you know, the other stuff.

My point was, I couldn't just let him walk all over me. Sure the sex was good, but it felt a little empty if there was no significance or meaning to it. He kept insisting that this was all experimentation, but if he couldn't draw a conclusion by now, then there was definitely something wrong with him. Draco Malfoy was completely and utterly gay, and I was the proof.

Oh and note to self: I should ask Hermione to lend me her dictionary. Why did he always have to use such complicated words like irresolute? It's probably something bad. Maybe I should have countered with something like "So's your momma!"...or maybe not.

(Draco's POV)

I hated when he did that, always trying to be serious, and what-not. Why couldn't he just enjoy this for what it really was; two horny adolescents who were fortunate enough to find someone with the exact same desires? Sometimes Weasley was just more trouble than he was worth.

We weren't exactly the ideal kind of couple you model yourself after. We weren't a couple at all, in fact. We just came to each other when we desired something at that particular moment. Nothing more, and I thought I had proven that.

He had tried to give me an affectionate pet name (one which I will not repeat... I mean, what kind of name is Drackie-poo?) some time ago. His consequence? A black eye and a full day and a half of neglect. It could have lasted longer, had I not acquired a certain taste for Weasley. I figured I had gotten the message through either way. There was to be no emotional baggage.

But I couldn't simply get rid of him. I needed him. Well, I wanted him at least. We'd only been going at this for a few weeks, and already he wanted to come out, commit, you know, all the boring stuff. Didn't he get it? I couldn't! Letting the student body know would be bad enough, but letting my father know bordered on suicide. What if he disowned me? Where would I go? I've grown accustomed to a certain level of luxury, one the Weasley family would never be able to fulfill.

Besides, I wasn't gay. Not really, at least. Just a little bit of harmless sexual investigation. I didn't exclusively like boys. Weasley barely counted as one.

I just sat in the Prefect bathroom, starring at the white tiles for so long that it impaired my eyesight. I was mad at Weasley, mad at myself, mad at everyone. What solution was there, really? After some further contemplation, I narrowed down my choices to three:

I could do what Weasley wants, exposing us to the world, and risk being ostracized from my family and every member of the Slytherin house.

I could ignore Weasley's stupid demands, and risk losing him for good.

I could use my physical charm to make him realize how empty his life would have been without me.

The third option sounded like a plan. Sure, he mentioned some homework he had to do, but who was he trying to fool? Just because I was gorgeous didn't mean I was brainless. It worked the other way for Weasley, but I liked them dumb anyway. Why the hell would I hang around with Crabbe and Goyle otherwise? It wasn't because they were good company.

I wandered through the corridors of the school, my alibi being that I was performing my Prefect duties, with an alternative motive, obviously.

Surprisingly, the search for Weasley was easy. In many ways, he was easy.

"Weasley!" I hissed at him after darting my eyes to endure that no one else was within ear-shot. He stared straight into my eyes, snapped his head into the other direction and walked away. Ouch. That hit me right in the old ego.

"Weasley!" I hissed again, slightly louder as I jogged up to his side. He continued to ignore my presence. Like he thought he had the right to be angry or something.

"Would you stop that?" I snapped.

Weasley threw his nose in the air. "I'm not talking to you," he huffed.

"You just did," I said, already losing my patience.

"Well, uh, I'm not talking to you as of now."

I grabbed him by the wrist and forced him to face me. "Would you stop it? It's annoying the hell out of me!"

He smirked. Yes, he smirked. "Now you know exactly how I feel, every freaking day."

"You know, I didn't come here for small talk. I did come here to make amends with you," I spat out finally, exasperated with his unwilling attitude.

His upper lip twitched, willing not to smile, I'd imagine. "So you've decided?" His tone of voice sounded so inspired, I hated to bring it down. But I had something else in mind that hopefully would outshine it in all aspects anyhow.

"Nope," I said lightly.

His face fell. He glowered. "Then what is it?"

Without any warning, I launched myself at him, ramming him onto a wall in a very animalistic way. He immediately denied me. His push burned like fire.

"You're always like this Malfoy. Don't you care about me at all? Didn't you listen to a word I said a moment ago? I'm tired of being your poor excuse of a... a... a call boy! A house boy! Whatever you want to call it! I refuse to just be your 'fuck partner', as you so aptly labelled it!" He said this all in one rushed breath.

Nobody refused a Malfoy. Twice in a row was beyond precedence! And to justify it... that was even worse!

And when the hell did he learn to use the word 'aptly' properly in a sentence?

I mean, come on! He wasn't smart! His vocabulary was sadly in short supply, his grammar even worse. It wasn't Malfoy and Me, it really should have been Malfoy and I.

Anyway...

I threw caution to the wind and forced myself on him again. Weasley couldn't deny me three times in a row, he just couldn't. He was as horny a git as I was.

"Malfoy, stop it," Weasley had the nerve to say, grunting with labour. "Get off me."

"Shut up," I growled at him. He was mine.

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Professor McGonagall appeared out of seemingly nowhere, her trademark headgear shadowing her features very sinisterly. But even the darkness couldn't hide her look of utter astonishment. McGonagall's eyes were widened, her graceful mouth agape.

"Exactly what do you think you're doing?"

Oh, joy.

Author's Note: Yes, that was probably kind of pointless, fluffy and not very well done, but didn't the last one have the same problems as well? I don't know, it's hard to judge your own work.

I incorporated a lot more cuss words. Usually, I like to avoid the swearing, but... eh (great explanation. I really have a way with words). I read somewhere that if you put the f-word in a movie more than once, or in its literal form, then it's automatically rated R. So I guess it's the same with fan fictions.