Saturday morning dawned bright and clear, a reflection of the contention felt by Gryffindor supporters after Friday's stunning victory. Well... most Gryffindor supporters. Oddly enough, one of the people who should have been happiest, a member of the team itself, was in a rather low mood. Now, why in the name of Merlin's beard would the very Keeper who kept out a good portion of near goals, a certain Ronald Weasley, be sitting in the Common Room looking depressed? Family tragedy? Of course not; Ginny would be there too if so. Broken heart? Goodness knows the boy never showed any interest beyond appreciation for a firm backside. Bad marks? After so many, why would he care now?

Most of the House was still asleep after a late night celebrating, though a few first years seemed to be promising party-goers, as they were already up and moving and down at breakfast. Ron sighed, rubbing his temple and standing. What he would give to be one of those sleeping hardcore party people, or one of those quick-recovering first years. Instead, he was stuck somewhere in the middle area; he was exhausted but unable to sleep, awake but unable to focus and get moving. Perhaps he could blame it on the intense glare Hermione shot him when she came back down from the girls' dormitory at 4 in the morning to find him still carrying on with the others who refused to let their victory buzz end so swiftly. Yes, that was it, he thought vaguely as he sat down again. It was all Hermione's fault.

Speaking of swift... He could hear the portrait hole swinging open behind him, followed by the sound of a nervous first year's quick, shuffling walk. One could always tell general year by the way a person walked. He didn't bother turning as the first year practically ran up the stairs to their dormitory. Or, to be more appropriate, her dormitory, as Ron had gotten used to telling which staircase from sound alone. Blame it on years of listening cautiously for Percy or the twins.

In his slightly dull-witted state of mind, Ron forgot to listen for the sound of the portrait hole closing as he stared into the fireplace and listened to the girl run up the stairs. This fact made itself very obvious as someone with a slow, confident stride walked in and the portrait hole finally closed, Ron nearly jumping at the sounds.

'That's no first year,' Ron mused, analyzing the pace and general emotion behind it, 'that's a fifth year at least. They don't hurry around and they actually pick their feet up.'

Of course, as a Prefect and someone who therefore shouldn't be startled or alarmed by mere footsteps, he didn't turn to examine, simply listening to that quiet, almost predatory walk grow louder and louder and nearer and nearer. Finally, as he realized they meant to disturb him, he turned, intending to send them a glare and a 'Bugger off.' This didn't seem much a good idea, as when he saw and recognized the person, he went pale and froze.

"Hello Weasley."

Draco smiled coldly, hand on the back of Ron's chair. Now it was more than insanely obvious to Ron why the first year girl hurried off so quickly when the only person in the Common Room was a Prefect that honestly didn't care much what you were doing as long as you didn't bug him. A Slytherin sixth year Prefect breathing down your neck was nearly as bad as Hermione catching you with something you shouldn't have anywhere near you.

Ron shot up and nearly into the fire, eyes wide as he pointed accusingly at Draco.

"You! Malfoy! What the bloody 'ell do you think you're doing here?"

Ron did nothing more than wheeze venomously. Obviously his troubled, sleepless condition affected his voice as much as his shock-handling capabilities. A symptom the silver-haired Slytherin didn't fail to note and smirk at. This, being an action that ignited Ron's temper under normal circumstances, did no less than turn Ron's mind into a great bonfire of rage that simply begged to be allowed to devour the Malfoy son alive.

"Listen you--" "I'd advise you shut your overlarge mouth Weasley, unless you want me to tell Potter a certain something about you that might cause... rifts... between the two of you."

Later, once he had slept properly and was in his right mind again, Ron would curse himself for jumping to conclusions, as his next comment led to what had to be the greatest heart-stopping moment of the young wizard's life.

"You wouldn't dare! Harry wouldn't understand; he just wouldn't understand if he knew his best friend liked blokes too!"

As stated, this had to be the greatest heart-stopping moment of Ron's life, as he suddenly froze as Draco went wide-eyed before looking wickedly pleased. Had there been any easily scandalized first year mind readers present at Hogwarts at that momet (which I cannot promise there weren't), they would have fallen over in faints at the language the youngest Weasley son was using quite liberally in his mind at the time.

Draco, after a moment, started laughing.

"Well, there's a new little tidbit to add. I suppose you REALLY shouldn't do anything to anger me now."

Draco smirked as even Ron's freckles went white. Without warning, he leaned forward, catching Ron's lips with his. Tohis extreme satisfaction, the redhead stood there stock still as he bit his lip gently before pulling back and just walking out of the Common Room.

Ron stood there for a few moments, a few shallow bite marks on his lower lip slowly fading into nothing as he stared at the portrait hole, shocked. He finally broke from his trance when Harry stumbled down the stairs, scratching his head and looking at his best friend in a manner that looked more than a bit like he was on some variety of drug.

"Oi... What're you up so bloody early for...?"

Ron forced himself to act normal, arching a brow.

"Same to you."

"Gotta take a--"

"Now really!" Hermione's voice came from the stairs as she descended, Prefect's badge shining as brightly as the day it was made on her robes. Needless to say, she looked perfectly rested and slightly miffed at Harry's near impolite statement. The boys rolled their eyes, Harry stumbling off to do his business and Ron taking a seat for the second or third time that morning as heshoved thoughts of Draco and what he did from his mind.

----------------------------------------------------------

Decided to continue. Don't own HP. Totally ignoring HBP for the moment.