A/N: As always a huge thank you goes to everybody who reviewed the last instalment.

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As soon as Ron made it through the front door he sank, exhausted, to the floor and fought the overwhelming urge to curl into a foetal ball.

It had been seven days since that fateful morning upon which Molly Weasley had barged uninvited into her youngest son's home and caught him in the act of snuggling Draco Malfoy in a very naked and highly suggestive manner. Seven days since he'd been forced to confess to his mother that, yes, he did in fact fancy men and, no, there was no possibility of him settling down with a nice witch anytime soon. Seven days of Harry and Hermione dropping by at sporadic and deeply inconvenient intervals because they were 'concerned' by his recent behaviour. Seven days of going to work and facing Fred and George's endless gags about his sex life (and he considered that blow-up ferret doll they'd sent him by owl was completely beyond the pale, even by their standards).

And worst of all, seven days of his parents inviting him round to tea at the Burrow every evening and introducing him to 'nice young wizards with good prospects'.

"So, what was the latest like then?" asked Draco, as he emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a very small towel and a smirk.

"His name was Bartholomew Grey and he was the most boring man I've ever met in my entire life. Good looking, but I'd rather spend an afternoon trapped in a room with Binns than try to have another conversation with him. I mean, he spent two whole hours talking about stationary distribution at the Ministry. It was almost like mum was trying to set me up with a less interesting version of Percy."

Draco frowned. "You thought that he was good looking."

"Well, yes, but that doesn't in any way, shape or form negate the boringness," said Ron, rolling his eyes.

"But you still found him attractive," he reiterated, obviously determined not to be swayed from what he quite clearly thought to be the main issue here.

Ron shook his head and groaned out-loud. An irrationally jealous Draco was the last thing he needed right now. "Oh, for fuck's sake I wasn't saying that he was better looking than you."

"You better bloody not," said Draco, who seemed slightly mollified by this statement despite the pout.

"Anyway, I've told mum that I'm not really interested in meeting anybody else right now, so could she please stop trying to set me up with dad's junior colleagues."

This seemed to cheer Draco up a little. "What did she say?"

"Well, she wasn't pleased, but she said that if we were going to insist on living together then her and dad would have to meet you properly."

"Meet me properly?" queried Draco, sounding suspicious.

"Yeah." Ron looked guiltily down at the floor. "SoIsaidwe'dgoroundforteaattheBurrowtomorrow."

Draco's brow furrowed in incomprehension. "What?"

He gulped. "I said we'd go round for tea at the Burrow tomorrow."

"YOU DID WHAT?"

Knowing that a tirade of abuse was imminent, Ron did the only thing he could.

He surged forward, yanked off the towel and proceeded to enthusiastically demonstrate that Draco wasn't the only one who could give really great blowjobs.