Is This Desire?

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and
owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but







Disclaimer: This story is based on characters sit situations created
and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to
Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc.
No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Draco is
joining the Death Eaters and Ron is strangely drawn to that sexy Dark Mark.
Pairings: Ron/Draco,
Ron/Hermione, Ron/Harry
Categories: Drama/Angst,
Romance
Notes: This story is
dedicated to Maud,hie,hie, Tas and Chaser.
Love you all.  
.....

*** Ron ***

Ron lay beside Draco watching the black eagle owl tap at the window. Ron
thought that someone should have really let that bird in. It was like a contest.
Who would get annoyed first? "Go open the window," Ron said quietly,
nudging Draco in the ribs. But the boy just lay dumbly staring at the creature.
Ron grumbled, wrapped a sheet around his waist, and walked to the window. The
owl flew proudly in, dropped a letter in Ron's hands, and swooped quickly back
out the window. "That was strange," Ron said attempting to hand the
letter to Draco.

"That's not for me," Draco said quietly. "What do you mean
it's not for you? Here, it has your name on it," Ron said flipping the
envelope over in his hands. There in a neat, and
controlled script was written "Ron Weasley, Gryffindor
Tower, Fifth Year Dorms." As
though it were poison Ron flung the offending letter to the ground. There had
to be some mistake. That couldn't really have been Draco's father's owl.
Ron glanced over at Draco, who just looked back and shook his head.

"What the fuck is this?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Draco replied defensively. "Maybe it's a
death threat or something. I don't know what he's up to at all times, you
know."

"Sorry I thought you had Death Eater ESP omethmething." Ron looked
to his feet where the letter still sat. He thought about bringing it to
Dumbledore to get it checked for curses, but before he could pick it up Draco
had slipped on his boxers, and crawled out of bed. The shirtless blonde bent to
pick it up.

"Here, I'll open it. I'm sure it's nothing." Draco opened the
letter quickly, and pulled out the piece of parchment. He sat on the corner of
Ron's bed, and began to read. The boy's face suddenly paled, and his hands
began to shake. He quietly finished the letter, and folded it neatly into a
square. "Well, I better be going then. I've got a
lot of homework. See ya," Draco said as he began picking up his clothes
from the floor, and shoving the letter into an inner pocket of his robes.

"Wait! What did it say?"

"Nothing. You know. He was asking for a
donation or something. You know my father, quite the sense of humor."
Draco hastily jammed his robes on, as Ron stood dumbstruck in his a white
sheet. What the hell was going on here?

"Give me the letter, Malfoy. It was addressed to me." It was
something in Draco's eyes. There was a flicker of panic, and Ron knew he was
going to run for it. There was no time for modesty, he let the sheet fall to
the ground, and took a step toward Draco. The blonde bolted. He began running
toward the door, but Ron was faster. As Draco's hand approached the doorknob,
Ron flew forward and tackled the other boy to the ground.

"Give it to me!" Ron yelled as he stuck his hand into Draco's
robes. He knew there was a pocket in there somewhere. Ron pinned Draco to the
ground, pushing the side of his head into floor with one hand, and with the
other reaching into his robes to locate the satin lining of a pocket.

Almost brutality Draco used his last bit of strength to throw Ron off. Ron,
in shock from Draco's sudden outburst, sat dumbly on the floor staring at
Draco. The blonde quickly got up, looked back at Ron then dashed out the door.
Ron had never seen the boy run so fast in his life; it would have been amusing
if it hadn't been so damn annoying. Ron sat for a few minutes by the door, too
shocked to move. Stupid slimy git, Ron thought. What the hell had been
in that letter? It was his letter, damn it. Malfoy had no right to just take it
like that. It couldn't have been that horrible, could it have? But,
knowing the Malfoys it probably was.

Quite shockingly the door came swinging brutally open, and bashed Ron in the
face. "Shit!" He yelled grabbing his head in frustration.

"Ron?" came Harry's concerned voice from
outside the door.

"Oh, uh, hang on Harry, I uh, just got out of
the shower. Hang on!" Ron said jumping around the room trying to pick up
his clothes and dump water from the pitcher over his head. He tossed on a pair
of trousers and a t-shirt, and told Harry to come in.

"Sorry about that," Harry said, grimacing at Ron's red nose.

"Oh, that's okay. I was just, uhm, I'd dropped something by the
door." Harry nodded in response. "So," Ron said, trying to
lessen the discomfort that seemed to be permeating the room. He hadn't really
spoken to Harry in a few days; there'd been nothing to say. And he was scared
that he wouldn't be able to keep back the Draco secret.

"So, Ron?" Harry asked nervously, looking
down at his shoes.

"Ya, Harry?" Secretly Ron wanted Harry to say something like, what's
going on? You can tell me anything. We're friends, I love you. You're important
to me.

"What's going on? I have barely seen you in the last week. Are you
avoiding me?"

Ron shuffled his feet. It was so frustrating that he couldn't tell his best
friend what was happening in his life. And maybe it wasn't really Harry who was
avoiding him; maybe it was just too much to say, "Harry, I'm fucking
Malfoy. Sorry I've been avoiding you." Harry had enough on his mind
without worrying about who was sharing his bed.

"Nah," Ron replied. "I'm not avoiding you, Harry. I've just
been busy is all. You know all of those horrible
assignments from Snape."

"Oh," Harry replied doubtfully. "Well, we won the game in
case you were wondering. Beat Ravenclaw 197 - 10, I don't think Cho will speak
to me for a week." Ron laughed and suddenly realized just how much he'd
missed his friends. Whatever was in that letter wasn't important now. He needed
to go fix things with Hermione, to fix things with Harry. "Do you wanna go
to the Common Room? They're having a party. The house elves just came up,
didn't even wait for Fred and George to ask for food!" Ron laughed again, grabbed
his cloak and ran down the stairs with Harry.

***

"Crabbe, Goyle?" Draco called into his seemingly empty dorm. He
hadn't seen much of the boys since the initiation. He only saw them briefly in
classes where they sat in the back, and didn't speak to anyone. After classes
they'd suddenly disappear, and Draco wouldn't see them again until they came
back to the dorms late at night to sleep. But Draco didn't really care. They
were nearly always doing something stupid. Like, last year, when they had told
him that Potter was really a woman. They'd spent months trying to get a glimpse
of his package. That probably had a more significant meaning than Draco cared
to think about.

Blaise wasn't back yet either, he must have still been down at the Quidditch
game, or at dinner. Eating was the last thing Draco wanted to do, however. He
was still feeling shaky, and thinking about his father's letter wasn't helping
the situation.

He crashed face first into his bed, and inhaled deeply from a pillow that
still seemed to smell like Weasley. (They'd spent the previous afternoon in
Draco's bed.) He had options, per say: he could show Weasley the letter and let
him deal with it, or he could confront Lucius about it. The other option was to
abandon all thoughts of wizards and wizarding and illegally Apparate to Acapulco.
There he could form a new life as a cabaa boy, and use some barbaric Muggle
apparatus to remove the Dark Mark from his forearm. That probably wouldn't work
though. He had conveniently forgotten how much he hated Muggles.

Draco put his cold hands on top of his Dark Mark, feeling the tender area.
It really had never fully healed, and still felt
sensitive at the lightest touch. Every time Ron touched it he could feel the
Mark doing something to him. It was so wrong, no one should have ever known
about the Mark, yet here was Weasley licking, sucking antingting at it. Yet,
Draco let him do it, he loved it. Why was Weasley even sticking around with
him? Why had he ever wanted to sleep with him in the first place? It was such a
mistake. If they'd never gotten together, if Ron had never kissed him, none of
this would have happened. But, at the same time, he liked having the redhead
around. He liked to smell his beautiful hair, he liked to feel his calloused
skin glide across his chest, he liked kissing his fingertips, and licking the
shell of his ear.

He shuddered. It seemed a lifetime had passed since he'd received the Mark.
It seemed like so much had changed, at yet nothing really had. And now this
letter, it had ruined everything, and he just didn't know what to do about it.

The sun had set, and Draco's room was cold, dark and empty. He closed his
eyes, and took a deep breath, slowly letting everything float out of his mind.
He absently grabbed for the Ron scented pillow and held it close to his chest,
as he drifted into sleep.

***

Legs tangle around his waist; long slender hands dance up his chest and back
down again, fingers lost in a sea of light brown hairs. The other boy smiles
fetchingly up at him, while his hands deftly move around his length, up and
down, up and down, lips meet in a clash and he's not even sure which tongue is
his own. The ministrations get harder, rougher, and it's funny because Ron's
never been cruel like this before. Something is off, something is wrong.

Quickly Draco releases his mouth from the other, and stares at the horribly
altered face of Ron Weasley. Where once a mess of bright red hair shone, now a
sleek bald head appeared, where once huge blue eyes peered from under light
eyelashes, now glow the empty red eyes of someone, something else. He pushes
even furtawayaway from the thing but finds that the creature's legs are inside
of him, a part of his own flesh, his back, his stomach. The creature entangled
with him smiles cruelly up at Draco, an abyss of blackness lying behind wind
chime teeth.

***

Draco woke with a violent start. He felt sweat dripping down his face and
into his eyes, his hair mussed and damp. Crabbe and Goyle still hadn't come
back, but Blaise was snoring lightly in the bed across from his. If he was just
quiet enough he could probably sneak to Gryffindor
Tower. Draco, as quietly as he
possibly could, dropped off his bed and slipped into his shoes. He threw a robe
over his green-stripped pajamas and attempted to slip out the door.

"Where are you going, Malfoy?" Zabini asked, in a low and almost
threatening voice. When the hell had he woken up? And where did he get the
nerve to be almost threatening?

"None of your business, Zabini. I suggest you
shut you eyes, unless of course you'd like me to shut them for you."
Normally that type of comment resulted in Zabini,
being the pussy he was, laying his head back down and going back to sleep.
Instead Zabini flung himself out of bed, and launched at Draco.

"Don't have the goons to back you up now," he said. Draco slit his
eyes in response. He glared up at the slightly taller boy.

"What are you going do Blaise?" Draco asked cruelly. "Are you
going to beat me up? Hmm? Do you think any of our
fathers would appreciate that?" Zabini just smirked in response.

"I wouldn't dream it." He made to turn around, but then, as if
giving it a second thought asked, "And where are you off to at this late
hour Mr. Malfoy? Think any of our fathers would appreciate me telling them you
were off to at this hour? Perhaps meeting someone you shouldn't be? I've heard
a lot of rumors you know. I'd be a bit more careful if I were you."

Draco growled. What the fuck did he know about anything? Where did he get
off threatening and accusing? And then, like a ton of bricks, it hit him.
"You've been spying on me, haven't you?" Draco grabbed his wand from
inside his pocket and pointed it squarely at Blaise's chest. Somewhere in the
back of his mind he thought that perhaps this wasn't the best method for dealing
with his problems, but right now he felt like: curse first, ask questions
later. "vomicus fungi!" he said, his
voice resonating with power. Blaise flew back, smacking his head against the
wall, and then lay seemingly motionless near the baseboards.

Draco hadn't really planned on that. He took one look at the unconscious boy
and panicked. He fled the room, no longer thinking about how much noise he was
making, or who he was going to wake up. This all needed to end. He needed to
show Ron the letter, and to let him decide for himself what he was going to do.


***

Ron

Ron sat next to Hermione, drinking an economy sized pumpkin juice, with his
feet propped up on one of the tables. The party was beginning to dwindle down,
and most everyone had gone to bed. He, Harry, Hermione, and a few sixth years
were the only people remaining in the common room, and even now the sixth years
were preparing to go to bed.

"Then Lark shouted to Cho that the snitch was behind her, and it was a
bludger! It smacked her right in the face. You should've seen it, Ron. I think
Colin got a bunch of photographs of it. Maybe he'll use a Muggle technique, and
you could make it into a flip book," Harry said, his eyes glinting with
Joy. Ron had definitely missed that look.

"A flip book? What's that?"

"Never mind," Hermione said, covering Harry's mouth with her hand.
"It was a wonderful game, Ron, you really did miss it. Where were you,
anyway?"

"Oh." The way Ron looked at it, he had three options. One involved
running screaming out of the hall, another involved him telling the truth, and
the other, much more obvious choice, to lie. "I was studying." He was
never good at this lying bit.

"Studying?" Hermione asked. "Well, that's a welcome change,
Ron! You're finally looking out for your future. And not a
moment too soon, what with OWLs coming up."

"Yeah," Ron replied, feeling somewhat guilty.

"What were you studying?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual.

"Uhm, I was studying the uhm, lifespan of a niffler. They don't live
long, you know."

"Oh, really! That's wonderful, Ron. They
really don't live long. What is it? Three years?"

"Yep, three years. That's why they're such an
expensive pet. I mean, ya know, if you want another, you have to go and keep
buying them. Doesn't pay off in the long run."
Now he knew why he never lied. It was impossible. He was hideous at it. He
could never just leave it at a simple thing; he had to keep going with it.

"Hmm..." Hermione said, sounding somewhat suspicious. Ron wondered
if she knew what was really going on, and if she did how she felt about it.
Hermione and he had always had something there. Something just below the
surface, and when she'd finally told him how she felt it all seemed very
strange. It was like, a relief. Like she'd just ripped off a plaster,
and Ron could finally scratch the scar. And yet, it was all wrong. It's wasn't
the right time at all. And it just made every other feeling floating around in
Ron's head more confused, more difficult, more
annoying.

She was so much better than Malfoy. She actually respected Ron, made him
feel like a person. He should have been with her, but now the fe had had come
and ruined it all. Even if Ron had been the one to start it, it was Draco's
fault. It was always Draco's fault.

"Well, I'm off to bed then," Hermione said, producing a fake yawn.
She probably just didn't want to be around Ron. He hadn't even spoken to her
about that night.

"Night, Hermione," Harry and Ron said together. She walked out of
the common room and up the staircase, Crookshanks, who had been comfortably
sitting underneath the couch, followed her up the stairs.

"I guess I'm gonna go too," Harry said, smiling good-naturedly at
Ron. Again Ron had the feeling of wanting to reach out to Harry, to tell him
how sorry he was.

"Are we, you know, okay?" Ron finally asked. He felt stupid for
asking that, and immediately regretted it. That was just the kind of dumb
question that got both parties feeling uncomfortable. Harry himself was already
turning pink, and absently playing with the position of his specs.

"Ya, we're okay," Harry replied, conveniently looking down at a
piece of muck that seemed to be stuck to his shoe.

"Right, well, goodnight. I'm just gonna stay
here and finish my pumpkin juice." Harry nodded his head, said goodnight,
and headed up the stairs.

Ron plopped onto the soft red couch seated right before the huge fireplace
in their common room. He watched the fire a few moments, becoming hypnotized by
the flickering light, and lulled by the warmth of it. He closed his eyes, and
felt the heat soft on his eyelids. What would life be like without Harry and
Hermione? What would life be like without Malfoy?

Before he would have said that a life without Malfoy would have been a good
life, indeed. But now it felt different. He told himself it was just the sex,
although he hated thinking that word. It made him blush. And that's all they
ever really did. It was sex and then one of them flew out the door, claiming
something stupid like, "Uhm... I have a Arithmancy
test!" When Ron didn't even take Arithmancy. But
their nights together were fun. If they were out late enough, they'd pop down
to the kitchens to get something to eat from the all too helpful House Elves.
Sometimes Malfoy would give one of them a good hard kick, and even though Ron
knew it was wrong, he'd laugh as it went flying through the air. "Sorry,
sir," it would say. "Tinky," or what ever it's
name was, "must have tripped over your shoe sir. Let Tinky clean it
sir!" Then it would run over with a rag and polish Draco's shoe. But Ron
knew it was his duty, as a SPEW member, to smack Draco in the back of the head
when he did these things. He hated being degraded in front of House Elves, so
Ron liked to do it as much as possible.

Ron's mind began to wander to the letter from Luc Wha What was in it? Why
had Draco practically flown out of the room once he'd read it? Ron didn't like
to admit it, but he was scared. Was everything with Malfoy some sort of evil
master plan? Get to the Harry through his best friend? It didn't feel that way,
but something was definitely wrong.

"Open the hell up!" Ron jumped from his trance, and quickly got to
his feet. He looked left, then right, then left again,
but no one was there. "I said open woman. This is important." Ron
could hear Malfoy's irate, and muffled voice coming
from just outside the portrait hole. He laughed, and then got up to let him in.
He would have tortured the boy a bit, but he didn't want to get in trouble
either.

Ron pushed the portrait open, and Malfoy practically spilled in, tripping
over the bricks in the process. He looked wild, his
blond hair was pushed all around his head, and is his eyes were wide.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked.

"Of course I'm okay!" Draco snapped. "I just can't take this
anymore!" Ron had never known Malfoy to get so out of control. And what,
exactly couldn't he take? "Here." Malfoy thrust an envelope into his
hand, and sat down on the fire near the couch. "You'll want to sit down
for that," Malfoy said from the couch. Ron was still staring at the
writing on the envelope, wondering if he'd rather just toss the offending
letter into the fireplace. Malfoy wasn't making things any easier by freaking
out. "Open it!" The blond said, rocking himself back and forth.

"Okay..." Ron said pulling the letter out, and slowly unfolding
it. Ron looked down at the controlled writing and read.

Mr. Weasley,

Certain circumstances concerning yourself and my son have recently come
to my attention. You currently have only one choice: join the Death Eaters, or
I will kill your family.

Sincerely,
Lucius D. Malfoy