Year 7

Update 10/05/05: As per the new rules, I\'m adding a disclaimer here. This story really needs an actual chapter update, but no such luck.
Disclaimer: Pursuant to copyright law, I acknowledge that I own none of the characters, concepts, or other related material in Harry Potter. I make no money from the writing of fan fiction based on the property of others.

Ron looked for Draco surreptitiously at the train station. He’d been afraid to owl the other boy all summer, for fear of forcing his lover’s hand. A Weasley return address would certainly be suspicious, and even if Draco’s parents hadn’t seen the letter itself, Pigwidgeon was a memorable little fellow. Questions would be asked. So he’d waited, agonizing, for something from Draco. No such note arrived. And Ron had figured that Draco felt the same way, that the Weasleys would be suspicious if a piece of Malfoy stationery had arrived at the Burrow, carried by a very expensive owl.

Platform 9¾ bustled with activity, and Ron couldn’t be sure he hadn’t just missed Draco in the rush. He could already be aboard. Ron sighed and climbed into one of the cars just a minute before the train pulled out of the station. It would be terribly unseemly to go searching through the cars for the Slytherin. So he waited some more, allowing himself to be distracted by Harry and Hermione and Neville, whose poor old toad Trevor had finally died (“Croaked, I’d say,” Neville joked, though his face was somber) and been replaced by an attractive little black cat. Crookshanks seemed to approve of the new pet, and was horribly disappointed to discover she’d been fixed. Her name was Bast, and she had precisely three white hairs right in the center of her chest. She took an immediate liking to Ron, and spent much of the journey curled up in his lap.

As they exited the train, Ron was swept up in his duties as a Prefect, helping the first-years find their way to the boats and everyone else to the carriages. He looked around for Draco, who would be doing the same with the Slytherin students, but to no avail. That flashing blond hair was nowhere to be seen. Hagrid spotted him and clapped him firmly on the shoulder. Ron almost stumbled.

“Ya look like ya lost yer shadow,” Hagrid said. Ron looked up at him. He was surprised at how easy it was now; Ron had continued to grow over the summer, and was now about six feet four inches. Hagrid was still considerably wider. “Yer lookin’ sturdier and sturdier every time I see ya, Ron.”

“Yeah, well, you know.”

Hagrid smiled. “Well, I gots to go take care of the littl’uns. I’ll see ya at the feast.” He waded off through the crowd, which began to part for his massive bulk. Ron shook himself, smiling, and went back to his task of supervising luggage and students.

He still could not locate Draco in the great hall, try as he might. And he was too busy with the first-years after the feast to look for him. As he went into the Prefects’ bathroom to get ready for bed, he heard a noise.

“Hello,” he said amicably.

“Hello, Ron.” Draco stepped forward out of the shadows and into the moonlight, and Ron knew why he hadn’t spotted him before. Draco’s hair was jet black, with only an inch or so of white-blond at the roots. He ran a hand back through it and Ron noticed his fingernails were glossy black as well.

“Well, that’s a new look for you,” Ron said, moving toward him. Draco did not resist as he put his arms around him. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I went through a phase this summer. And it’s good to see you too.” He kissed Ron casually.

Ron tried to muster the courage to ask the questions that danced in his mind. Draco answered them before he even spoke.

“He didn’t actually disown me, because that would look bad. But he quite clearly stated that I was no longer his son.”

“Did you tell him who I was?” Ron asked.

“No. He was angry enough already.” Draco shrugged.

Ron nodded. “So I’m guessing you still want to keep us a secret, then.”

Draco looked at him appraisingly. He leaned up to kiss Ron’s chin.

“Let them say what they will. Fuck ‘em all.”

Ron’s eyes were questioning, and Draco nodded. “You’re serious,” Ron said.

“Deadly.”

“I don’t think we should go shouting it from the rafters.”

“Certainly not. That would be terribly undignified.” Draco smiled and leaned against Ron’s chest. Ron stroked his hair, which was even softer now that it had been dyed. He decided he actually liked the color, as unnatural as it was. “But we don’t have to whisper, either.”

Ron chuckled and tilted Draco’s head up for a kiss. “I missed you,” he said, nuzzling Draco’s throat.

“No,” Draco said. “Not here.”

The other boy nodded. Draco kissed him and left the bathroom.


When Draco came to breakfast the next morning, the blond roots had been dyed green. He glanced at Ron and smiled slightly; Ron ran a hand through his hair and smiled back. Draco looked away demurely, and Ron hid his grin behind his goblet. He’d never have pegged Draco as the type to play coy. But then, he’d never have pegged Draco as the queer type either, and after their encounters the year before his perceptions had been changed. Harry was talking about Quidditch practices, and Hermione noticed that Ron was only half-listening.

“Are you alright, Ron?” she asked. “You seem a bit spacey.”

“Just thinking,” he said softly.

Draco’s attention had turned to one of his classmates, and he was smiling amusedly. Ron tore his gaze away from the other boy and joined the conversation.

Their first class was Charms, which they had with Hufflepuff. Professor Flitwick welcomed them all back to school cheerfully, then announced they were going to be starting with Household Charms this year. Ron felt hopeful; his mother had taught him a number of the charms on the syllabus, even if he hadn’t wanted to learn them at the time. And with NEWTs coming up this year, ouldould be nice to have a few easy classes. Of course, the next class of the day was Potions, and Ron despaired of ever being any good in that.

Through chance or fate he found himself seated beside Draco. Harry regarded the other boy with a sneer. Draco returned it, though his eyes flicked up to meet Ron’s apologetically. They had both promised to try and be more tolerant of each other’s friends, though both recognized the near-impossibility of mingling the two cliques. I’m not going to tarnish my perfect arrogant pureblood image just to pander to your stupid Gryffindor friends, Draco had sneered. The feeling was mutual.

Professor Snape immediately tasked them with an extremely difficult potion, as was his wont to welcome them back each fall. “To be sure you haven’t forgotten everything I’ve taught you,” he said.

Draco was partnered with Daphne Greengrass; she said something to him and he turned to Harry and Ron.

“Weasley, we seem to have run out of mouse tails,” he said softly. “Would you please part with some of yours?” Ron nodded and handed them over.

“Did he say ‘please’?” Harry asked. “Is he not feeling well?”

“Perhaps he’s turning over a new leaf,” Ron whispered. Draco glanced at him under lowered eyelashes. Harry snorted incredulously and turned back to his cauldron.

That evening there was a Prefecmeetmeeting after dinner. The new Head Boy and Head Girl had been announced at the welcoming feast, and Hermione and Michael Corner were congratulated heartily by the assembled Prefects. Ron watched Draco approach Hermione, his heart seeming to halt in his chest for a moment. Draco and Hermione hated each other. But Draco had promised to be a bit more civil to her, just as Ron had sworn he would try not to pick any more fights with Crabbe and Goyle.

“Congratulations, Granger.” Draco’s gaze was cold and aloof as he shook her hand.

Hermione said nothing, tight-lipped, and Draco walked away from her, toward Ron, who was standing by the table with the drinks. He sipped his pumpkin juice and did turnturn to face Draco as he picked up a glass.

“I noticed you managed to avoid insulting her,” Ron said quietly.

“I’m trying,” Draco murmured. “Old habits are hard to break.” He leaned against the table. “Meet me on the covered walkway after the meeting?”

“Sure.”

Draco moved away. After a few minutes, things quieted down, and the Prefegot got down to business.


Ron found Draco sitting on the stone railway of one of the arches, staring off over the grounds. He sat by the other end of the arch, regarding Draco with a curious gaze. The other boy did not acknowledge his arrival, but dug into his robes and produced a pack of cigarettes. He tapped it gently. Draco fondled one out of the package and set it between his lips. His slender fingers caressed the silver dragon lighter and he inhaled deeply.

“When did you start smoking?” Ron asked softly.

“This summer.” Draco took the cigarette out of his mouth. “I can put it out if it bothers you.”

“No, you’re fine.” Ron sat back against the wall, sighing. Draco let the smoke trickle up out of his mouth, like a sheet of fog covering his face. He gestured slightly with the glowing cylinder.

“Somehow the nicotine just made everything seem easier, I dunno.” Draco took a long drag and forced it out into the evening air. “I needed something to calm me down. Now I can’t seem to quit.” He tapped ash and regarded Ron idly, head cocked. “Like a lot of my bad habits, it seems to have a firm grip on me.”

Ron snorted. “Are you calling me a bad habit?” he asked.

Draco chuckled and placed the cigarette between his lips. “You might not give me cancer, I suppose. But you’re distinctly bad fy hey health.” He closed his lips around the filter and sucked hard. “Ah, nothing like sucking down a fag, let me teou.”ou.” He glanced at Ron, who chuckled at the entendre. Draco closed his eyes and leaned back against the arch.

“I was a little put offthe the black hair at first,” Ron murmured. “But it actually suits you.”

“Thank you.” Draco exhaled smoke lazily. “It’s not a spell. I went into London and found this little shop that sold all sorts of crazy dye colors. First I wwithwith maroon streaks, just to fuck with my father.”

“Gryffindor colors,” Ron laughed, shocked. Draco opened one eye and grinned.

“He was such a prick this summer…even before I told him.” Draco’s smile vanished and he leaned his head back against the cool stone. Ron’s face grew somber and he looked sidelong at Draco.

“I was under the impression he was always a prick.”

“Well, yeah,” Draco said. One corner of his mouth curled slightly in a smirk. “But especially so. I think if I had told him the guy I was fooling around with was a Weasley, he would’ve blown a gasket.”

“He’s bound to find out, if we aren’t keeping it secret anymore,” Ron said.

“Of course he’ll find out.” Draco blew a perfect smoke ring. “But since I’ll be at school still, it’ll give him time to calm down a bit.” He regarded the cigarette idly. “Plus there is the fact that I’m moving out when I graduate. Father insisted.” He finished off the cigarette and stubbed it out on the sill beside him. “Evanesco,” he whispered, swishing his wand. The butt vanished. He touched his lips with the wand and murmured something Ron didn’t quite catch. “Smoking’s against school rules, you know,” Draco commented, seeing Ron’s curious glance. “It’s a breath spell. I’ll teach it to you sometime, if you want.”

Ron nodded absently. “What does your mother think about all this?” he asked.

“She called me some very dirty things,” Draco chuckled. “I think my favorite was ‘fudgepacker.’” He looked at Ron and grinned.

“If you don’t mind me saying it,” Ron murmured, “I like you a lot better like this.”

“Like what?” Draco asked, confused.

Ron smiled. “It’s nice to just talk to you.”

“I thought I was doing most of the talking,” Draco said.

“That’s fine.” Ron slid off the railing and walked over to where Draco sat, putting a gentle hand on his thigh. The other boy leaned up for a kiss. This was how it should be, Ron knew. Casual affection, friendly conversation. Ron didn’t want to pretend anymore. Draco traced his chin with a slender finger.

“You really aren’t a bad sort at all, Weasley,” he murmured. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Ron chuckled. “I think we’ve both grown up a lot since we met on the train our first year,” he said. “It’s just not easy to change your ways overnight.”

Draco hummed and leaned back against the stone. “How did we ever end up like this?” he asked, closing his eyes.

“I seem to recall it stemming from a fistfight, actually,” Ron murmured. “You caught my wrist and basly aly attacked my mouth.”

The other boy laughed. “Oh, yes. That was fun.” He opened his eyes again and stood, dusting the seat of his robes. Draco regarded Ron for a long moment before leaning in for a long, searching kiss. Ron jumped a little in surprise when Draco’s fingers caressed him through his uniform trousers. “If you don’t mind,” Draco whispered, “I’d like to try something.”

Ron nodded absently. Draco kissed him again, skilled hands bringing Ron to hardness. Then he slipped to his knees. Ron stared at him, speechless, as Draco deftly unfastened his lover’s fly. Ron had done this for Draco only once, and the other boy had never offered to reciprocate. Draco glanced up at him through long lashes and bent to lick the underside of Ron’s cock.

He had obviously practiced this, though Ron could not imagine on whom. Draco teased him expertly, always drawing back just before Ron felt he could take it no more. He did not stop Ron from grasping his hair. Finally Ron spoke.

“Please, Draco,” he sobbed. The Slytherin sm.
.

Ron bit back a cry as he came, shuddering against the stone arch as Draco drank him down. The other boy stood, zipping Ron’s trousers as he did. He combed his fingers through his hair where Ron had mussed it.

“God, Draco, that was amazing,” Ron breathed. Draco chuckled. “You’ve been holding out on me.” Draco leaned against his lover’s body and Ron could feel his hardness, nudging against his leg, far from insistently.

“I think we’ve moved beyond sneaking around to make out,” Draco said.

“Well, if that means you’re going to give me blowjobs now, I’m all for it,” Ron said, smiling. Draco grinned cheekily.

“That good?” he asked.

“You know it was.” Ron cupped Draco boldly. “Now, would you like me to take care of this?”

“If you’re up for it,” Draco chuckled.

Ron smirked. “I’m not the one who’s ‘up’ for it,” he said. Draco could only groan. Ron circumvented Draco’s waistband and boxers and Draco shuddered as his cool fingers touched the Slytherin’s heated flesh. “You’re going to have to wash these robes,” he murmured, stroking Draco expertly.

Draco’s climax was quieter than Ron’s, and he sighed deeply as he shuddered in Ron’s arms.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked, straightening. Ron gently withdrew his hand from Draco’s trousers.

“Sounds good.” Ron kissed him and they parted ways.


“He’s up to something,” Hermione muttered darkly, as she and Harry watched Draco walk into the study hall.

“Just because Draco’s smiling doesn’t mean he’s got a plot up his sleeve,” Ron suggested softly.

Harry and Hermione looked at him. “Since when do you call him ‘Draco,’ Ron?” Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. “It’s his name, isn’t it?” he asked sheepi.
.

Ginny interrup “Yo “You two used to get in fights every day, practically!”

“What’s going on, Ron?” Hermione asked.

“Nothing!” Ron insisted. The others looked skeptical. “Okay, so Draco and I have come to an…understanding.”

Harry snorted. “So, what, you’re friends now?”

Draco was looking at him, Ron realized. He swallowed. “Not exactly,” he hesitated.

“Well then what would you call it?” Ginny asked.

Ron chuckled nervously. “So, um, did I ever get around tolingling you guys that I’m, um, gay?”

“You’re fucking Malfoy?” Ginny asked. Her voice wasn’t loud enough to draw too much attention, but w pew people at their table looked up.

Draco sidled over and rested his forearms on Ron’s shoulders. “Hello, lover,” he said, bending to kiss Ron’s temple. The Gryffindor’s cheeks heated. This was not how he had imagined breaking this news to his friends. Actually, he hadn’t really any idea how he was going to finally tell them, so this was probably just as gas aas any other way.

“Um, hi, Draco,” he said. “We were just talking about you.”

“I noticed.” Draco looked Ginny squarely in the eye. She glowered at him. “So, Ron, I’ll see you in the Room of Requirement?” he asked in the other boy’s ear. Ron nodded. Draco smiled and walked away, and Ron could not help but watch him.

“What the hell are you thinking?” Ginny demanded.

Ron smiled. “He’s got a fabulous body,” he said apologetically. Harry made a vomiting noise. Hermione was looking at him curiously.

“When did this happen?” she asked.

“Just before we left for the summer,” Ron said. “I wanted to tell you, really. But Draco hadn’t told his parents he was gay, and, well, it would’ve been really bad for them to find out that way, and…” he trailed off.

“That’s disgusting,” Ginny muttered.

“And for your information,” Ron told her archly, “I am not fucking him.”

Harry scoffed. “So he’s fucking you, eh?” he asked.

Hermione glared at him. “Harry, that’s an awful thing to say.”

“We actually hadn’t gotten as far as that,” Ron mumbled.

Neville Longbottom leaned over. “Does he give good head?” he asked.

Harry, Ginny, and Hermione all stared at Neville like he was crazy. Ron chuckled. “Oh, yeah,” he said suggestively. “Even better than you, Nev.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait!” Harry put up his hands. “Ron’s gay. Neville’s gay. What next?”

Neville shook his head. “No, I’m bisexual, actually. It’s dient.ent.”

Ron was happy to escape from them when the time came.

Draco was leaning against the wall, one foot propped on the stone. “About time,” he joked, kissing Ron eagerly.

“What was that all about, in study hall?” Ron asked.

“Staking my claim,” Draco murmured, bending to kiss Ron’s throat. He bit down hard, ignoring Ron’s shocked gasp. When he pulled back, there was a livid red mark among the freckles on Ron’s neck. “Come on.”

They went into the Rof Rof Requirement, and Ron was surprised to see a bed there. “That’s new,” he commented. Draco grinned.

“The room always seems to know just what you need,” he said, kissing Ron. The other boy looked confused. Draco rolled his eyes, still grinning. “You know you’re ready for this.”

Ron nodded and let Draco lead him to the bed. The Slytherin lay back in the covers submissively and Ron felt somewhat bewildered. “Wait, you want me to top?” he asked.

Draco laughed loudly, rolling his face into the pillows to muffle himself. “Don’t look so surprised,” he said, still giggling slightly. “If you want to bottom, you’re welcome to, but it’s really not my preference.”

“No, that’s okay,” Ron murmured. Draco grinned saucily and kicked off his shoes. Then he paused, halfway out of his outer robe.

“You have done this before, haven’t you?” Draco asked. “I mean, I just assumed…” He looked terribly upset with himself, as though he had committed some horrendous faux pas.

Ron smiled. “Yeah. I’ve just never had anyone just lay themselves out like that. It was weird.”

“What, did Longbottom make you ask him for it?” At Ron’s embarrassed nod Draco toyed with a strand of his hair, smiling distractedly. “That’s actually a rather nice image, Ron. Longbottom’s definitely developing into a nice little treat. And with a name like his, he could be a porn star…” He pulled himself back to the present. “So you’ll fuck me?” Draco asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Ron said, crawling up over Draco and kissing him hungrily. He drew a hand up the inside of Draco’s thigh, caressing him through the fabric. Draco inhaled raggedly. They undressed each other quickly, pausing only a few moments to explore the new territory. Draco had a birthmark behind his right knee that Ron was fascinated by for a few seconds.

“How do want it?” he asked, palming the bottle of oil conveniently located on the nightstand.

Draco grinned and rolled over onto his hands and knees. He looked over his shoulder at Ron, who smiled back. “You little slut,” Ron mused. Draco wriggled happily in response.

He slicked his fingers and stroked Draco’s cleft gently. Draco made a noise quite like a purr, encouraging Ron to caress him again, which he did. The Slytherin caught his lower lip in his teeth as Ron worked a finger past the tight ring of muscle, and sucked in his breath as another was soon added. “Ooh, yeah,” he moaned, bucking back against Ron’s touch.

Ron had all four fingers in him before he knew it. Then the intensely pleasurable sensation was gone, and Draco looked back, his face hurt. Ron chuckled and used his thumbs to spread Draco wide as he thrust his slick cock in the tight hole. Draco bit his lip again, arching back against Ron’s hips.

“Fuck me hard, Ron,” Draco whispered. “I can take it. Pound me ‘til I can’t walk right.” He moaned as Ron’s fingers closed around his hips. “Oh, god, you feel so good inside me,” he cried, as Ron thrust forward. “Harder!”

Obediently, Ron increased his pace and force. Neville had preferred to be handled more gently, though he was as likely to roll Ron over and screw him as to let Ron take him. Draco was a wanton, his soft, desperate vocalizations driving Ron gradually insane. He let himself go, since nothing seemed to be too much for Draco. Ron slipped a hand under Draco and grasped his erection, running his thumb over the crown. Draco grunted and thrust against his hand eagerly.

Ron came with a shout, spilling himself inside Draco, who followed him over the edge with a throaty cry. Draco leaned forward to rest his forehead on the covers, breathing hard. Ron withdrew carefully.

“Thank you,” Draco said softly.

Ron chuckled and bent to kiss one of Draco’s fine, firm cheeks. Draco squirmed as his mouth dipped lower, into the cleft, tongue flicking over the puckered opening. As Ron raised his head Draco sighed deeply and rolled onto his back, looking up at his lover.

“Why did we wait to do that?” he asked.

“I was content to suck you off once in a while,” Ron said drolly. “But no, you and your greedy little ass weren’t satisfied.”

Draco laughed. “Next time don’t be so gentle,” he offered, pulling Ron down to kiss him. Ron eluded his grasp and nosed his way down Draco’s stomach, lapping at the come that had ended up there. He licked his fingers idly as he lay on his side next to his lover.

“Do you just like the taste?” Draco asked, chuckling. Ron grinned.

“Different strokes,” he said, sucking slightly at his thumb. Draco made a crude gesture with his curled fingers and Ron laughed.

They lay there for some minutes. “Your friends weren’t happy with the news,” Draco murmured.

“Not at all.”

“Will your sister tell your parents?”

Ron sat up. “Mom and Dad know I’m gay. I daresay it wouldn’t be much more of a surprise to know I’m shagging you.”

Draco made a face. “I can just imagine your mum knitting me a jumper for Christmas,” he said. “With a big D on it. I would die of embarrassment.”

“I can just see you walking into the Slytherin common room wearing it,” Ron laughed.

“Oh, lord,” Draco cried, thrusting his face into the pillow in mock horror. “The inhumanity! God save me from homemade clothes.”

“I think you’d look cute in a jumper,” Ron said. Draco raised his head. “A nice black one, maybe a v-neck. That would suit you.” Draco rolled his eyes. Ron chuckled softly. “Maybe I’ll buy you one for Christmas.”

“Malfoys do not wear sweaters,” Draco said.

“Malfoys don’t have sex with Weasleys either,” Ron replied, his hand moving to cup Draco firmly.

“That’s true,” Draco murmured. “I wear a small.”

Ron laughed. “A small?”

“Well, I like my clothes to fit close,” Draco said defensively. “And I’m not some kind of gangly freak like you.”

“Right. What you’re trying to say is, you’re a shrimp.” Ron picked him up easily and pulled him, squirming, into his lap.

Draco hit him in the chest ineffectually. “Are you sure you’re not part giant?” he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. Ron rolled his hips against Draco’s leg.

“You tell me,” he said, leering suggestively.

“Oh, come off it, Weasley. It’s not that big.” Draco rolled out of Ron’s grasp and went to his school bag. “I’ve definitely seen larger.” He pulled out the pack of cigarettes. “Want one?” he offered, settling one between his lips.

“No, thank you,” Ron said.

“Gitanes. They’ll kill you faster than anything else on the market,” Draco said, chuckling. He lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. “You’re sure it doesn’t bother you?”

“Would you care if it did?” Ron used his toes to pick up his boxers from the floor. Draco leaned against the wall, still naked as the day he was born and totally unperturbed by that fact.

“I am not as inconsiderate as you would be led to believe,” he said. He spotted an ashtray on the end table by the door and walked over to tap ash into it. Ron snorted derisively. “Hey,” Draco protested. “I just let you bugger me up the arse, Weasley. I’d say that’s pretty generous.”

Ron shook his head, laughing. “Oh, I’m sure it was totally selfless. ‘Fuck me hard, Ron.’ ‘Oh, yeah, that’s it.’” Draco had the decency to blush a little. “You are such a slut, Malfoy.”

“I prefer ‘profligate,’ thank you.” Draco stubbed out his cigarette. “And I don’t think I need to remind you just which one of us let Neville Longbottom fuck him, of all people.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “God, you’re a bitch,” he said, falling back into the pillows heavily.

“You’re just jealous,” Draco lisped, throwing his hand out limply.

Ron chuckled and Draco settled back in beside him. He smelled acridly of cigarette smoke. “What a fucking queer,” Ron muttered, stroking Draco’s flank. The other boy grinned lasciviously.

“And you’re not?” he asked.

“It’s not gay if you’re not on the bottom,” Ron said.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You be careful, or I’ll roll you over and do you good,” he threatened.

“That would be like a mouse humping a cat,” Ron said. “You’re positively tiny.”

“I’m big where it counts,” Draco said, grabbing his dick. “You should know. You’ve had it in your mouth.”

“And it was like sucking somebody’s little finger,” Ron said. “I was worried I might accidentally bite it off.”

Draco cried out indignantly. “You are so full of shit!” he said, punching Ron in the arm.

“Oh no,” Ron said. “You’ve roused the sleeping giant.” He launched himself up at Draco, rolling the other boy to the bed. He pinned him easily; Draco flailed ineffectively at him and finally lay still, giving up. Ron laughed. Then he cried out in pain. “You little whore!” he said, in mock anger. “You bit me!”

“You deserved it.” Draco ducked under his arm. “Get dressed. It’s almost time for dinner.” He searched through the pile of clothes for his underwear, pouting slightly when he couldn’t find them. Ron picked up the black briefs on the tip of one finger.

“Looking for these?” he asked innocently. Draco stood. Ron kept his eyes on Draco’s as he brought the black cotton to his face and inhaled deeply. Then he tossed the briefs at Draco.

“Eeeewww,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose. “You sniffed my underwear!”

Ron laughed and picked up his trousers. “I can’t believe you think that’s gross,” he said.

“It is. It’s disgusting.” Draco put them on nonetheless.

“Draco, I just inserted my dick into your anus and ejaculated inside you.”

Draco frowned. “But that was fun,” he said. Ron sighed in mock exasperation. He moved to kneel on the floor in front of Draco and pressed his face against the inside of the other boy’s thigh, sniffing hungrily. Draco gave a shocked laugh and pushed him away. “You’re so weird!”

“What?” Ron looked innocent. “I like the way your come tastes, I like the way your crotch smells. Is that a crime?”

Draco must have taken eyebrow-raising lessons as a child. “You are decidedly strange, Ronald Weasley,” he murmured.

“Thank you.”


Word traveled fast. Within a week the entire school knew Weasley and Malfoy were doing it. Draco basked in the attention; Ron felt like he wanted to curl up in a ball and die of embarrassment. Especially when Professor Snape made them partners one day in Potions.

“I’m sure you two will have no trouble cooperating on this assignment,” the Professor purred. Draco smiled cheerfully as his head of house walked away. Ron hunched down in his seat, hoping the floor would open and suck him in. As much as he didn’t want to be Draco’s dirty little secret, he didn’t like all the publicity.

Also, Harry and Ginny weren’t speaking to him. Hermione was forced to function as a go-between, relaying messages back and forth between her friends. Harry outright refused to work with him one day in Herbology. Ginny made sneering little comments behind his back; he was tempted to turn on her and scream in her face, Yeah, I fucked him, just like you let that piece-of-shit retard Colin fuck you last year, you hypocritical little bitch! Of course, he held a civil tongue. She was still his sister, after all. That didn’t stop him from indulging in his fantasy confrontations. In his head he could hear himself shouting in front of the whole common room, Just because the guy you’re interested in couldn’t care less about you doesn’t mean you have the right to ruin my happiness. You’re a pathetic little snot, Ginny, and I hope when Harry finally figures things out that you two are miserable together.

Draco noticed the tension among the Gryffindors. It amused him greatly. Among the Slytherins, his relationship with Ron was seen as a conquest. Pansy was a bit jealous, but she’d known for a good while that Draco wasn’t interested in anyone who didn’t have a cock. Blaise was jealous from the other perspective, having fancied Weasley for some time. It was not sufficient cause for them to stop talking to him. In fact, a few of the Slytherins inquired after the details of their sex life, which Draco was more than happy to provide, in only mildly exaggerated detail.

Another strange effect of this whole mess was that Draco started treating Hermione like a decent human being. He’d realized that she was still on friendly terms with Ron, and had even tried to patch things up between her friends. This made Harry even more angry, since Draco was acting like a gentleman toward her even though he still treated Harry like a loathsome insect. And Ron no longer tried to get Draco to be civil with Harry; he was mad at his friend, and Draco’s insults helped communicate some of that anger.

“He’s not really upset that it’s Malfoy,” Hermione tried to explain one day, walking with Ron to class. “I think it’s mostly thou dou didn’t trust him enough to tell him you were a homosexual.”

“I didn’t really know myself until last year,” he said apologetically. “And frankly I think it’s a little presumptuous of Harry to think that every event in my life is his business. It’s not easy, coming out of the closet.”

Hermione shrugged. “I know that, and you know that. But Harry isn’t rational right now. It was a bit much, learning your best mate likes to bugger men and that the one he’s currently involved with is your worst enemy.”

“How do you feel about it?” Ron asked softly. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but cut herself off as Draco approached.

“Good morning, lover,” he said cheerily, pulling Ron into a kiss that was a little too serious for the public nature of the situation. Ron tolerated it, glancing at Hermione, whose features gave no indication one way or the other how she felt about it. “Hello, Granger. Feel prepared for that Arithmancy test this afternoon?” Draco asked, still smiling.

“I don’t know, Malfoy. I could have studied more for it, I suppose.” She offered a weak smile. It was hard not to be friendly with him when he acted like this; he could be very charming, when he wanted to.

“Just don’t ruin the curve for the rest of us,” Draco chuckled. She nodded absently, and he hooked an arm around Ron’s waist as they headed down the corridor. “Practice is starting up soon, pet. Still going to play Keeper this year?”

“I don’t think Harry’ll have me,” Ron said softly. He had improved greatly since his first season, but with Harry as team captain it might strain things to have him on the pitch.

“His loss,” Draco tossed off airily. “Potter never did know when to separate personal and professional concerns. He’ll never get ahead at this rate.” Hermione said nothing, but Ron saw her lips tighten on a retort.

“Harry’s well within his rights,” Ron said defensively. Draco snorted. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. She nodded. “I’ve got to be going, Ron. Malfoy.” She walked on ahead, and Ron looked down at Draco, clinging like an annoyingly cute little monkey to Ron’s side. He smiled back cheekily.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk about Harry like that,” Ron said.

“He’s been treating you like dirt, Ron. If I were you, I wouldn’t tolerate such behavior. From anyone.”

Ron sighed. “But you’re not me, Draco. Far from it. Not everyone lives by striking fear into the hearts of those who oppose them and squelching anybody who doesn’t like them.”

Draco looked as if this was the most novel thing he had ever heard. “But…how do you ever get anyone to respect you?” he asked, confused.

It would have been comical, Ron supposed, if it did not strike him as so sad. “Respect and fear aren’t the same thing, Draco.”

The Slytherin absorbed this as they walked.