Whew. I actually managed a second part. This was actually semi-enjoyable. I miss Ron and Draco banter - it's very fun to write.

Draco Malfoy woke to a horrendous smell. Not exactly the best course, considering that he was fiercely hung over and still had the taste of vomit in his mouth. He rubbed his face groggily and opened his bleary eyes, shutting them again quickly when he glimpsed the room.

Draco had always prided himself on his impeccable taste in men, and maybe recently his pickiness had subsided, but only a Confundus charm or a serious misunderstanding would have landed him in such a tacky flat. The bed was the only thing worthwhile in the entire bedroom, with white cotton sheets and soft cloud-like pillows. However, the rest of the room was covered in bright orange Chudley Cannons posters and Quidditch memorabilia.

"Great, I screwed a total ignoramus."

Deciding to try and fall back asleep, Draco occupied himself with trying to remember his night – something he usually failed at. The only thing that stuck out was the attractive brunette who had bought him his twelfth firewhiskey. But that man's clothing was impeccable and designer - which meant that Draco had left the gem of a man for someone who decorated his living quarters with posters and memorabilia of a defunct Quidditch team.

Draco groaned loudly, which seemed to notify the flat's occupant that he was awake.

"M-Malfoy? Are you awake?"

Draco's eyes flew open again in shock.

No. Fucking. Way.

To his shame, Draco felt a small smile pull across his face. He finally did it. He finally screwed a Weasley - literally. And the best part was he would never remember it.

Ron Weasley was standing in the doorway awkwardly carrying a tray which apparently was covered in food for the ailing alcoholic, "You passed out last night in the bar's bathroom. I didn't know what to do so I brought you here." He stepped forward hastily and placed the tray at the end of the bed.

Draco leaned over curiously, hoping that Weasley would turn out to be a closet chef. He was severely disappointed. The eggs (if that was what they were) were a crumbling mess and the bacon was burnt beyond recognition. Next to all this was a glass of a green oozing liquid and Draco discovered the cause of the smell that had awoken him.

"Trying to kill me, Weasley?"

The redhead was avoiding looking at Draco at all costs, "What? N-no! It's a hangover remedy, I swear."

Draco, now uninterested in food entirely and totally absorbed in Ron's embarrassment, leaned forward, "So? How was it Ron? I had no idea you were-"

"I'm NOT!" Ron said, backing as far away as possible, finally making eye contact with Draco, "I was out with some friends at a dinner and didn't want to apparate on a full bladder, so I went in to use the loo, and you were with a…"

"Brunette?"

Weasley shook his head, face pale, "Didn't see."

"Then how did you-"

"Heard."

It was Draco's turn to flush. It became angrier as he realized that he actually cared what Weasley thought of him. And that he was actually disappointed Weasley wasn't gay, and that he had called Weasley by his first name in a fit of hope that...that what? Draco slapped himself mentally. He did not want a second round. He was happy that it never happened. Happy.

Both sat in awkward silence for a minute as they ran through their own thoughts.

Finally Ron sat on the bed, "Listen, you can stay here as long as you need. Bathroom is just outside in the hallway if you need a shower. If you want to make yourself something edible, there's some food in the kitchen. And the hangover remedy does work, trust me, I know."

He stood to leave and Draco called out, "What kind of dinner?"

"What?"

"You said you were at a dinner with some friends. What kind of dinner?"

"A celebratory one. Hermione Granger and I got engaged yesterday."

Draco smiled bitterly, "How sweet. How did you propose?"

Ron frowned, sensing the shift from a tentative truce to an erupting confrontation, "I don't see that it's any of your business." He made to leave again, but paused a second time, and without looking at Draco asked, "So, you don't remember anything? At all?"

"Believe me, Weasley, from the way you're acting, I'm guessing something did happen that would be worth ridiculing you over, and I sincerely wish I could remember if only for that purpose. But my brain likes to erase anything that happens after my tenth firewhiskey or so." He sighed, "So I guess except for my old taunts you have nothing to fear except your own future stupidity, as I'm sure you will soon do something else for me to hold over you."

Ron snorted – an annoying sign that either Draco was getting rusty or Ron was growing up – and left the room, leaving Draco feeling slightly strange and lightheaded.

He downed the green ooze in a fit of impulse and immediately regretted it. He raced out the bedroom and into the bathroom Ron had mentioned earlier, cursing the moment he ever trusted Weasley enough to drink something the redhead had made.

Draco sat on the cold linoleum in a fit of silent resentment, temporarily immobilized by the strange potion. He cursed Weasley a second time and then gasped as a new feeling set in entirely. The pain was wiped away and he was suddenly completely relaxed, his loosened muscles sending him to lie completely on the floor.

Soon a tingly feeling set in, and Draco reveled in its warmth, until he realized something else was tingling along with the rest of his body.

Never one to ignore his own sexuality, Draco double checked that the door was shut and began to attend to his excitement.

At first it was just a relaxed motion, but as his passion grew so did his movements. A hand snuck up to tease his chest; he closed his eyes and let his imagination carry him closer to the edge.

As he reached the brink, Draco's subconscious heard a noise and he opened his eyes to see Ronald Weasley watching as the Slytherin came all over his bathroom tiles.

Ahahah, another case of walking into the loo at the wrong moment...or the right one?

Reviews last time were pleasant, but not nearly bountiful enough. Help a sista out? This is pretty much all I've written and I need some more inspiration...