The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

The sound alerted Draco first--footsteps going along at a rapid pace. It was close to midnight and all good Hogwarts students should be secure in their beds by now. Draco grimaced a bit to himself---he’d stayed in the library after hours to get away from the more tiresome social climbers in his own common room. The constant stream of fawning false smiles and competitive banter had left him feeling hollow and out of sorts.

‘Maybe it’s Potter trying to flout the rules again,’ thought Draco. Oh that was just too delicious a thought. As a prefect now in his sixth year, Draco would be able to deduct house points. And God knows he hated the little bastard.

Draco moved back into a darkened corner and waited impatiently to leap upon his prey.

The footsteps faltered and Draco held his breath, it seemed almost as if the perpetrator could feel they were being watched. The footsteps resumed after a brief moment of hesitation and under the magical torch light Draco could just make out a flash of red hair.

‘What in Merlin’s name was the Weasel doing out and about at this hour acting in such a peculiar manner?’ he thought.

Ron hurried on and Draco, intrigued, followed as quietly as he could. There wasn’t much he could do to another prefect wandering the hallways after hours, as frequently they had permission to do so.

Draco continued to follow until they reached the front doors of Hogwarts. The Weasel looked around nervously once more, then opened the front door and darted out closing the door behind him silently.

‘I’ve got him now,’ Draco thought gleefully. There’d be no valid reason to leave the castle. The Weasel had already broken a major rule and Draco gloated. There was sure to be worse. He’d always loathed the Weasel, looking down his nose at him like he was some sort of errant house elf. It chafed at his sensibilities.

Draco slipped out of the door and shivered. It was cool for September and he wished he had a cloak like the Weasel but he certainly couldn’t go back for one unless he wanted to lose his quarry.

There was a full harvest moon out this night and Draco could clearly make out Ron trotting towards the Quidditch sheds.

A rendezvous with his mudblood girlfriend or some other chit he sweet-talked into an encounter in the sheds where the equipment was kept maybe? The Weasel getting off
almost seemed a contradiction in terms. I mean what was to like? That mop of red hair? All those freckles? That Quidditch toned body…well maybe he did have a few decent points.

But to Draco’s surprise, Weasley bypassed the door entirely and headed to the back of the sheds.

Draco hid behind a large tree that gave him a good view of the proceedings without giving away his own position. He heard Ron mutter something, then wave his wand and Draco saw a bag appear. The Weasel grabbed the bag and started to walk down a path that led towards the lake.

‘The lake--what on earth was Weasley up to?’ he thought.

Instead of a common romantic assignation, this was turning into a minor mystery. It made Draco itch. He didn’t like anything that challenged his preconceived notions of what people were about. He’d never particularly thought of Weasley as anything other than a sycophant of Potter’s and a dashed poor example of what a pureblood wizard should be.

Draco trodded carefully trying not to make any unnecessary noise and cursing under his breath when he realized he wouldn’t be able to get close to Weasley’s position unless he dashed across open ground to the large group of boulders beside the lake. He hunkered down momentarily by the edge of a row of topiaries that ran alongside the northern part of the lake.
Weasley stopped by the edge of the lake and looked around once more before removing his cloak. His robes and shirt soon followed.

‘What on earth?’ thought Draco. Weasley was going to freeze if he was planning to take a dip in the lake, to say nothing of the ever present concern of the giant squid who occupied it. True, the squid was mostly a deep water denizen but occasionally it did surface.

When the Gryffindor started to remove his shoes and socks, Draco shot forward and made a run for the large rocks not thirty feet from the nearly naked boy.

Draco dodged behind the largest boulder trying to control his breathing. Peeking over the rock, he determined he hadn’t given anything away. Weasley was now removing his trousers and underwear.

The moonlight played on the creamy buttocks revealed to Draco. He held his breath hoping that the boy would turn and give Draco a glimpse but Weasley only stretched luxuriously like a cat before bending down to open his bag.

The Slytherin boy’s breath caught in his throat. He definitely appreciated beauty in all its aspects and had never discriminated between the male and female form. Something his father had tried to, unsuccessfully, beat out of him over the last few years without apparent success.

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Ron had felt the need crawling over him all evening--- throughout dinner as well as his study time with Hermione and Harry after--the need to free himself from the confinement of the stone floors and walls that surrounded him. The almost overwhelming urge to run down to the lake, fling off his clothes and slide into the deep, cool water was dangerously enticing to him. Forbidden fruit to be sure…but oh so satisfying in its freedom. His parents would be furious to find out he’d broken the most sacred rule in the Weasley household--taking his sealskin with him to Hogwarts. But Ron was nothing if not stubborn. Why should he hide himself away as if he was a dark wizard? Selkies were a peaceful species and by Merlin’s balls he was proud of his birthright.

He frowned though when he considered the consequences of his inadvertently ‘outing’ his family at the same time. His father had a job in the Ministry and that could, unfairly, be compromised by the knowledge that he’d married a Selkie. Ron, his brothers and sister were half-bloods in the eyes of wizarding society; no better than animals to Lucius Malfoy and his ilk. He stiffened in outrage at the thought. It was so bloody unfair.

He looked around nervously as he pushed back the bed curtains using his excellent night vision to see properly in the darkness of the dorm room. Only when he assured himself that his roommates were indeed deeply asldid did he gather his clothes and cloak and crept into the loo to change.

A few minutes later he quietly exited through the fat lady’s portrait and out of the Gryffindor Tower. Creeping along, Ron’s breathing was ragged and his heart beat out a fast tattoo---if he saw someone he could always fall back on his prefect excuse. But once outside of the front doors, not even thatld sld save him from a long detention. Hogwart’s students were forbidden to leave the castle after hours.

Ron froze in the middle of a corridor and the pupil’s in his dark eyes enlarged. He thought he’d heard a rustle ahead of him. He stilled himself like a preyed animal wary of a predator possibly lurking in the shadows. After a few moments, satisfied that it was one of the staircases shifting, he moved on.

As he pattered down the last of the staircases towards the front door, his spirit’s lifted. The large front door moved with a small creak and chancing one more look backwards to make sure he was unobserved, he slipped out the front door, shutting it behind him.

The slight breeze in the night brought the scent of the late blooming flowers of the Fall and the almost overwhelming scent of the water in the lake. He ran towards the Quidditch Sheds and slowed down to position himself behind the Gryffindor shed. He pulled out his wand and muttered a small charm and his bag re-appeared. Hidden with a combination invisibility/look–away-from-me spell it would be safe here until he chose to unearth it.

Ron clasped the bag to his chest in a happy gesture. Yes! Tonight he would swim with the merpeople and other residents of the lake.

The moonlight played on the water as he approached it and he could hear the soft whoosh whoosh of the water lapping on the shore. He arched and stretched and then started to remove his clothing. Cloak, robes, shirt and shoes soon fell to the floor. He pulled down his pants and y-fronts and goose bumps broke out over his chest and arms as he reached for his pelt.

Ron sighed and rubbed his face in the warm, soft brown fur. He had missed this so much that his heart ached from it. It was like having one of your limbs missing---you never knew how integral a part of you it was until it was lost to you.

He unrolled the pelt and looked at it in the moonlight, his breathing slowing, preparing for the transition. When his respiration and heartbeat had eased enough, he squatted down and threw the fur skin over his shoulders and, in a lightening fast move, the skin wrapped itself around him. A strikingly beautiful young male grey seal flopped towards the cold water of the lake. His coat was dark brown with lighter markings that almost mimicked the freckles that he possessed in his human form. He let loose a low cry and waddled into the water with a rolling gait.

Once in the water he slid through it easily so happy to be free that, with one powerful move with his body and flippers he broke to the surface—joyous and exuberant in his freedom. His body slapped the water hard as he dove again under the cold stars that were his only company.

**********************************************************************
Draco finally released the breath he’d been holding as the young seal dived again under the water. Weasley was a Selkie—a shapeshifter of sorts. Not an animagi, who were wizards capable of taking on animal form, but just the reverse an animal who could take human form.

Draco shivered with the cold but his mind was working furiously. His father could use this information to put Arthur Weasley out of the Ministry permanently. An ally of Dumbledore’s would fall to ruin with the information that he’d married a non-human. Wizard society was tolerant but not willing to turn a blind eye to that abomination.

He found himself chewing at his fingernails in indecision, a childish habit he thought he’d outgrown long since.

‘But why did his father have to reap the benefit of this knowledge?’ he thought sulkily. Family loyalty was all very well but Draco was old enough to start accumulating his own power base separate from that of his father.

What he’d seen in the moonlight was still playing and replaying in his mind, the creamy skin, and the sculpted muscles….maybe there was an alternative for Weasley. He grinned to himself and settled down for a long, cold wait.


Ron was late again. He’d slapped Harry’s hand away this morning when he’d shaken the boy for the second time in an effort to get Ron up and ready to go to breakfast.

“Fine, miss breakfast if you want, but don’t be late for Charm’s or Hermione will be apoplectic,” said Harry with some frustration.

Ron finally levered himself up and out of his bed and headed for the showers.

Peering into the mirror after he’d relieved his bladder, he saw that he had an awful case of bed head.

“Gaah. You definitely need a little work sunshine,” said the cheeky mirror.

Ron growled low in his throat, but grabbed for Seamus’ shampoo on his way past the small slots in the wall where personal grooming aids were kept. Ron wasn’t sure just how Seamus managed it, but he had somehow obtained some pricey shampoo from a place called Harrod’s located in muggle London. Only Dean, Seamus and Ron used it as his mates preferred to stick to their usual standard hair cleaning potion.

After a long hot shower and some serious hair work, Ron felt better and quickly dried himself off. He’d be late for sure now.

Pulling on his clothing as quickly as he could, he grabbed his quill and parchment and flew through the Gryffindor Common Room and out through the fat lady’s portrait.

He steadied his books and turned to head off the corridor when a voice behind him made him jump.

“Late again, Weasley?” said a cool voice.

Ron’s head snapped around and he grimaced in annoyance. Malfoy. Standing there looking completely at ease in Gryffindor territory.

“I haven’t got time for this Malfoy,” he grunted. “Go bother someone else,” he said starting to turn on his heel and preparing to leave the little twat behind.

“Oh, if I were you I’d make the time, Ron,” said Malfoy in an amused tone.

A frisson of unease skittered up his spine. Malfoy had never used his first name. It just wasn’t done. Harry was Potter and he was Weasel or Weasley. Malfoy was always just well…Malfoy. It was the unwritten code of the Hogwart’s schoolboy hierarchy.

Ron’s jaw tightened.

“Bugger off, Malfoy,” grunted Ron and attempted once again to leave.

“I intend to---Ron,” said Malfoy in a purring voice.

There he’d done it again. Something was very wrong here.

“What does that mean?” Ron snapped back.

“Just that we’re about to become good, good friends,” Malfoy said running one hand through his white blonde hair casually.

“We’ll never be friends, Malfoy. I hate you, in case you haven’t noticed,” he replied sarcastically.

Malfoy moved in closer and Ron dropped his books, fumbling frantically for his wand.

Before Ron knew it, the slightly shorter Malfoy had him backed against the wall. Ron felt ridiculously off balance.

“Just so you know, I top exclusively,” Malfoy said calmly, his grey eyes looking unblinkingly at him.

“What?” came out in an embarrassingly squeaky voice. “You’re barmy, Malfoy.”

Malfoy was so close Ron could feel the heat coming off his body. Only inches separated them.

Malfoy settled one hand on Ron’s hip and he jumped violently. That was it. Ron shoved the Slytherin away forcefully. Malfoy staggered a bit but didn’t seem disturbed.

“I’m afraid you really have no choice…Ron,” he said.

Third times the charm, third times the charm kept running through Ron’s head.

“You’re mad Malfoy. I knew it would happen one day,” Ron said as he scrambled to pick up his books while his heart pounded out a strange tattoo.

“I have your skin,” Malfoy said softly.

The books and parchments spilled out of his arms—crashing to the floor.

************************************************************************

Draco smiled at Ron’s horrified expression. ‘I have him now,’ he thought.

“You know what this means, don’t you Ron?” he asked while replacing his hand on Ron’s hip.

The redhead just shook his head numbly in a weak protest.

“Your life has just changed…and for the better I’d say,” said Draco in a rather condescending manner.

“No!” Ron gasped out and tried to back away-only to bang into the corridor wall-at this grotesque turn of events.

“You’ll need some new clothes of course, I can’t have my catamite dressed like a house elf,” Draco sniffed in a superior way.

“You can’t be serious Malfoy—I don’t bat for the opposition,” he said a bit desperately.

“It doesn’t really matter does it?” Draco said mildly starting to stroke Ron’s hip in a curiously gentle manner.

Draco leaned forward to within inches of Ron’s face causing him to stiffen and then turned slightly to whisper in his ear.

“You only have to worry about pleasing me,” he breathed the words quietly into Ron’s ear.

“No!” said Ron squirming away from Draco. “I’ll tell Dumbledore! You can’t get away with this,” he said hoarsely. “He’ll make you give me back my skin.”

Draco’s expression hardened.

“If you do that I’ll out your entire family. Your father’s career will be ruined and you’ll all be outcasts. Remember how Lupin was treated? It’ll be much the same for you and your family,” he said with a touch of frost in his voice.

“That’s different,” Ron squawked. “Werewolves are dark creatures and dangerous we’re…” he ground to a stop appalled at what he was openly admitting.

“You’re animals in human form to the majority of the wizarding world. It can’t be your father,” he said in a musing way. “The Ministry would have performed all of the necessary tests before admitting him to preclude this kind of thing. Ergo, it’s your mother who’s the selkie—yes?” the blonde asked with a raised eyebrow.

Draco watched as the other boy squirmed but said nothing and let the silence lengthen.

“Ah, I take your silence as confirmation, not that I needed it,” he said wryly.

Draco felt a strong power rush run through him. This boy was his.

“Well,” he said. “Best be moving along then, before we’re missed, but first…” he said as his head snapped forward in a serpentine move that had his lips covering the startled boys in front of him.


In shock, Ron felt Malfoy’s slightly dry lips moving on his, then nipping at his bottom lip. He kept his mouth tightly shut against the invader.

‘This can’t be happening,’ he thought dazedly. His life had suddenly turned into a living nightmare. His worst enemy held his most precious secret and heritage in the palm of his hand.

For the first and only time in his life Ron considered murder as a solution to his problems.

Bitterly Ron conceded that Azkaban would be a small price to pay for ridding the world of this Death-Eater spawn.

“Open up, or you’ll be sorry,” he heard Malfoy mutter as he pulled slightly away from Ron.

Ron found himself looking directly into Malfoy’s winter grey eyes. He blinked but remained passive as Malfoy moved forward again to re-engage his mouth.

He felt Malfoy’s tongue stabbing inside his mouth seemingly determined to wrest some kind of reaction from him.

A small swell of pride rose up in Ron that he wouldn’t give Malfoy the satisfaction of reacting…but that feeling of superiority evaporated quickly when he felt a hand touch his cock. He jumped at the contact.

Ron tried to angle his hips away from the questing fingers but he had no plao goo go. To his great humiliation he felt his cock hardening rapidly.

Malfoy suddenly pushed away, breathing hard.

“Nice,” he said with a smirk.

Malfoy casually straightened his robes and brushed his blonde hair into some semblance of order.

Ron gaped as the Slytherin backed away.

“I’ll send you word about where you’re to be when I want to continue this,” he said in a bored tone and turned away to walk nonchalantly down the corridor towards the staircase.

Torn between embarrassment and anger Ron gathered up his books from the floor in a fog and slipped back into the Gryffindor Common Room. He couldn’t face his friends right now…he needed time to think and pray that there was a way out for him and his family.


Draco strutted into the Great Hall like a rooster. The rush from his confrontation with his soon to be leman had given his body a pleasant buzz. Lucius, as usual, had been right—power wielding was the headiest feeling in the world. Now that he’d shown the young Gryffindor the ‘stick’ it was time to show him the advantages of Draco being his protector.

His loyal, if somewhat mentally torpid bodyguards, shoved several younger Slytherins out of the way making way for Draco to sit down as he approached the table.

“A little late my dear Draco?” said Pansy in her annoyingly nasal voice.

Draco regarded her pug-like face and shuddered minutely. That bitch would never carry the Malfoy name despite her pretensions.

“I felt the need of a stroll this morning,” he replied irritated that Pansy had openly questioned him—in Slytherin House it was generally considered bad form.

Blaise at the end of the table openly ‘tutted’ at Pansy and she flushed red. He grinned back at her.

Just then, the owls flew into the Hall with their packages and let. T. The Malfoy eagle owl dropped directly in front of Draco, upsetting the pumpkin rolls in the center of the table. With the haughty disdain that only the Malfoy family owl could express, he awaited Draco’s pleasure while squeezing the overturned rolls in his talons.

Draco picked off the message from his mother and carelessly tossed it aside.

“Wait for me in the owlery I’ll have a message going out later,” he said as he casually picked some sausage off of Crabbe’s plate and offered it to the bird. The owl accepted his reward and flew off to await his instructions.

************************************************************************

The next day Ron moved through his classes in a fog. His brain felt frozen while his body had adrenaline shooting through it causing a slight tremor to occur in his hands.

“Ron are you alright?” Hermione asked before she headed off to do her transfiguration homework in the library.

Ron looked up at her in surprise, he’d hoped his chaotic feelings hadn’t been evident to his friends. He should have known better.

“Brilliant,” Ron replied but seeing the disbelief in his best friend’s gaze he continued “just worried about that Potions test tomorrow.”

Now it was Harry’s turn on his other side to gawk at him.

“Ron, you’ve never worried about a Potions test in your life,” laughed Harry.

Ron tensed. It was important that his friends didn’t dig any deeper. This was his problem to solve. He didn’t want them involved. He knew instinctively that his lineage wouldn’t change their feelings for him but he was also acutely aware that the rest of wizarding society wouldn’t be so accommodating to himself and his family.

“There’s always a first-time,” said Ron forcing a smile.

Harry clapped him on the back.

“I’ll see you later aactiactice, eh?” he asked the redhead with a slightly concerned expression.

“Of course,” Ron said stoutly. “I left my Potions’ notes in the Common Room I’ll see you later,” he said and waved back at his friends as he headed towards the Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione and Harry looked at each other quizzically as Ron moved off.


Ron sat huddled on his bed with the curtains drawn around him---his head racing with ideas that were quickly discarded as fast as he came up with them.

Tell his parents had been his first thought. But they would be devastated to learn that Ron had all but destroyed their family’s chances at being an accepted part of wizarding society. Arthur and Molly had been so very careful and, had thought, they had instilled the same need for caution from their children’s earliest instruction.

‘That is,’ Ron thought bitterly ‘until he had assumed the risk for all of them by taking his skin with him back to Hogwarts’. He was a fool and deserved whatever punishment he received but his family didn’t deserve scorn and bigotry.

His feelings in turmoil, Ron began punching his bed post to release his anger and frustration. His fists began to hurt and blood to flow and still he kept on until he heard a voice breaking in on his solitude.

“Ron? Ron?” he heard a young voice call.

Cradling his now aching hands under his armpits he replied gruffly, “What?”

The bed cins ins were carefully drawn back and one of the first-year Gryffindors, a slight boy with brown hair held a large package from Madam Malkins.

“This was outside the Common Room with your name on it,” said the small boy hesitantly.

“Just leave it on the bed---thanks,” said Ron shortly.

“Alright,” said the younger boy and dropped it at the end of bed.

The young Gryffindor looked a bit askance at him and Ron tried his best to soften his expression.

“Go on now, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do,” Ron said more gently.

The youngster scuttled off and Ron heaved a sigh. ‘That was too close,’ he thought.

Ron grabbed for his wand and performed a quick healing spell on his bloody hands.

He looked at the package at the end of the bed and regarded it with the same trepidation he would give an approaching chimera.

‘Malfoy. It has to be,’ he thought, with bile rising in his throat.

He had to do something with it—perhaps burn it. But what would happen if he did? He couldn’t afford to anger Malfoy, not now, until he found a way out of the mess he’d created.

He grabbed the bag and tore it roughly open. A paper fluttered down on the bed.

Ron grabbed it and read. ‘So you won’t look like a house elf. Wear them.’

Ron hissed. He could hear the implicit threat in the note.

He pushed aside the tissue finding a new set of school robes. His growth spurt over the summer had caused a bit of consternation with his mum. Robes could only be transfigured so many times and his parents hadn’t been able to afford new ones for his sixth year. So, Ron had ended up returning to school looking a bit like a skinny beanpole shooting out of his clothes.

He flushed but shook out the new school robes and found underwear, as well as a new set of short boots hidden under the robes.

How on earth would he explain this windfall? His friends would accept his word that his parents had sent them on but Ginny would know better. He’d have to have a quiet talk with her as soon as possible. He trusted his little sister and knew if he asked her she’d keep his secret.

Draco strolled into Care of Magical Creatures almost, but not quite, late. Hagrid cast a small frown in his direction but he just returned the look with a smirk.

He let his eyes casually wander over the combined Gryffindor/Slytherin group. He nodded at Blaise, ignored Panand and glanced out of the corner of his eye at the Potter worshippers closest to Hagrid who was holding court over some gelantinous mess he was waving his hands about.

‘Ah there,’ he thought.

Weasley stood awkwardly. Apparently trying to fit in with his friends and express some little enthusiasm about their newest monster-of-the-week.

He looked good—better than good in his new robes. Draco smiled.

“Look at Weasley,” Blaise snorted. “Did he rob Gringotts to get those robes?”

Pansy snickered but Goyle and Crabbe awaited Draco’s pronouncement before reacting.

‘Really, those two couldn’t fart without instruction,’ Draco thought with a mental roll of his eyes.

Draco brushed off his robes in a disinterested manner before speaking.

“A decided improvement, he fills out those robes nicely,” he said with a wicked look at Blaise.

Blaise and Pansy’s eyes widened but they demurred no further. It was unhealthy to cross a Malfoy at the best of times and especially now with the balance of power in the wizarding world teetering on a dangerous edge.


Three days dragged by and Ron was more on edge than ever. Draco hadn’t shown any signs of following up on his initial threat. Not even a glance over in his direction during meals. Ron had taken to grinding his teeth both at night and during the day.

His anger had simmered down to a generally sullen mood and even Hermione couldn’t be bothered to try and snap him out of it. She was far too busy trying to prepare Harry for the extra defense against the dark arts work he was currently doing with Dumbledore.

Ron found himself sulking at the unfairness of it all. Here his life was about to be flushed away and his friends weren’t there to support him. He knew he was being unfair to them—what they didn’t know they couldn’t help him with, but he was still miffed at their increasingly narrow focus to the exclusion of his feelings as usual.

Sitting in a quiet corner of the library deep in the stacks that he’d taken to hiding in whenever classes weren’t in session, he sunk a bit further into depression.

“Pouting? It’s rather a good look on you,” Malfoys voice came from behind him.

Ron jumped in his chair. He felt Malfoy’s hand brush against his neck and he tensed.

“What,” Ron cleared his throat. “What do you want Malfoy?”

“I would think that was evident Ron,” came the amused reply as Draco started to card his fingers through Ron’s hair.

“Where are your goons?” Ron ground out hoping to insult Malfoy.

“Keeping watch as I instructed them. We won’t be interrupted,” said the blonde in a languid tone.

Ron’s face reddened as he felt Malfoy’s hand drift downward past his neck and under his shirt to touch and stroke his collarbone with his fingers.

Ron’s cock chose that moment to perk up, an act which horrified him.

He exploded out of the chair pushing violently at Malfoy’s hands.

“Keep your bloody hands off of me!” he spat.

Malfoy looked unruffled.

“Saturday is Hogsmeade day. Dump your friends and come to the Shrieking Shack by noon. If you don’t I’ll burn your skin,” he said calmly and then just walked away.

Ron staggered back a few steps. Malfoy wouldn’t…he couldn’t. Ron’s eyes started to smart as he tried to hold back tears. He knew very well that Malfoy would carry out his threat.

He stood there for a long time the dust motes dancing around him as he brushed up against the stacks. His life as he knew it was over. But there was still an outside chance he could protect his family. Ron knew his chances of besting Malfoy in a wizards duel would be small but the Slytherin would probably be unprepared for an actual physical attack. Ron knew he’d have one and only one chance to succeed. The consequences would be grave—he’d face the ‘kiss’ at Azkaban but if he managed to conceal his families secret then, in some small way, he’d have made up for his colossal mistake in judgment.


Draco walked towards the shrieking shack wand in hand, his Slytherin instincts alert. He knew that Weasley very likely by this point was desperate enough to try something out of the ordinary.

He’d ditched his assorted hangers-on earlier and had taken the round about way to the Shack, laying down some complicated misdirection charms and thereby eliminating any possibility of being followed.

When he was within fifteen feet of the shack, but still behind the cover of some oak trees, he muttered a spell that caused his formally invisible wards to shine in multi-colored strands visible to the naked eye.

‘Ah there,’ he thought. The wards keyed to Ron showed him that the Gryffindor was there early. He seriously doubted the boy was that eager for this encounter.

Draco smiled and shook his head as he reached into his robe pockets, checking to make sure the little pot of oil was till safe. The odds were that Weasley still had some hope apparently of escaping his new circumstances in life.

‘So what to expect?’ he thought. No Slytherin, let alone a Malfoy, would be caught unprepared for any eventuality. He dropped his chin into his hand thinking hard.

Weasley wasn’t trained in the dark arts and, therefore, the chances of him using an ‘unforgivable’ were next to nil. If not magic then that left only some form of physical attack. Crude, but if Draco had been unprepared, it might have been successful.

He shook his head at the folly of the other boy and prepared to apparate-- wand at the ready.


Ron’s hands had started to sweat the minute he’d walked into the shack holding the butcher knife he’d secured from the Hogwarts kitchens that morning. His muscles had started to cramp in his shoulders because of the unrelieved tension due to gripping the knife so tightly.

He’d arrived half an hour earlier than expected hoping to get the drop on Malfoy the minute he walked in the door. If he was lucky, his first blow would seriously injure the Slytherin and prevent him from drawing his wand.

Ron’s stomach rolled at the idea of the amount of violence necessary to complete the act. Even now, he wasn’t sure he could stab someone to death, even someone as repellant as Malfoy. His teeth started to chatter even though the shack wasn’t particularly cold.

Ron had discovered the sad fact that murder in cold blood was quite different from an act done in the heat of passion. The three days leading up to the Hogsmeade Saturday had given him time to think, something he’d assiduously avoided until then. Each night he’d tossed and turned, unable to sleep contemplating this moment. His eyes had dark circles under them and his nerves were just about shot. Maybe a Malfoy could easily put aside any sense of right and wrong but Ron was finding it much harder to do. It went against everything his mum and dad had taught him.

Now, Ron found that sweat had started to bead on his upper lip. ‘Just let this be over,’ the mantra in his head played again and again.

So focused on the door was he that the cracking sound of someone apparating behind him caught him completely offguard.

He swung around and saw Malfoy with his wand pointed at him some fifteen feet away.

“Imperio!” called out the blonde boy.

Ron felt a wave of fear pass through him quickly, leaving behind only a void. His mind was still gibbering with fear but his body seemed unable to do anything but wait.

“Take that knife and throw it out the front door,” said Draco. “Your wand as well.”

Ron docilely moved forward and opened the door, obeying the command. He threw the knife out onto the turf, quickly followed by his wand.

“Close the door and come back in,” came the next command.

Ron did so and some part of his soul cried. He could do nothing but obey. His mind felt as if it were trapped in molasses—sticky and slow, unable to break away from the magic Malfoy commanded.

He watched as Malfoy pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and threw it on to the floor in front of him.

Malfoy transfigured the hankie into a bed and then looked at Ron.

“Undress yourself completely and then lie down on the bed—on your back,” said the blonde beginning to carefully remove his clothing as well.

Ron did as he was told, his increasingly foggy thoughts unable to even think about resisting. He removed his clothes slowly dumping them beside the bed. Climbing on to the bed he lay down.

Malfoy stopped after he’d removed his robes, shirt, shoes and socks leaving only his pants on. He stepped nearer the bed and examined Ron’s body closely—sucking in his breath sharply.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Just as I remember you,” he continued.

Ron could feel a flush starting from his face and racing down the entirety of his body. He hadn’t expected a compliment. He could feel his heart starting to thud painfully in his chest.

Malfoy aimed the wand at him again.

‘Oh Merlin, what next?’ Ron thought, but found himself unable to dredge up much emotion behind it.

“Finite Incantatum,” came from the blonde’s lips.

Ron felt a small pinching sensation loosen in his head and gradually his scattered thoughts began to become more cohesive. He glared at the Slytherin but Malfoy only laughed.

“Did you think I had a taste for rape, Weasley?” he asked in disparaging tones.

“You’d do anything you could get away with,” Ron snarled.

“Quite true,” came Malfoy’s reply, “but I don’t have the same ‘tastes’ as my father.”

Ron shuddered at that. He could only imagine just how perverted Lucius Malfoy’s inclinations had become after years of exposure to Voldemort.

Without breaking his gaze, Malfoy casually pointed his wand over his shoulder and uttered an especially high-level locking charm as well as a silencing one.

“There’ll be no untimely interruptions now,” he said, carefully laying down his wand on his robes while reaching for something in its pockets. He extracted a small bottle and laid it close to his feet.

Ron then watched Malfoy slowly unbutton and unzip his trousers in an almost teasing manner. Appalled at the boy’s casual manner, Ron turned his head sharply away his mouth becoming suddenly very dry.

But he couldn’t escape the git’s voice.

“No, I’m no more a rapist than you are a cold-blooded murderer, Ron,” he said evenly. “It is for the best that you learn that now, before you go down the path to Auror training.”

Ron licked his dry lips once and then turned over, curling on his side feeling less vulnerable that way.

“No, you’d only blackmail someone into sleeping with you, which is the same as rape,” Ron said shortly.

Ron felt the bed creak and go down where Malfoy had apparently planted himself.

“Minor detail,” the other boy said. “I want you and I’ll have you and I have the means to make it so,” he said in an almost kindly manner. “That doesn’t mean that I want to make it…unpleasant for you.”

Ron jerked as he felt a soft hand trail down his hip towards his knee.

He considered launching himself at Malfoy but he suspected the slightly smaller boy was stronger than he looked with all those hours of Quidditch practice. None the less, he was prepared to try.

“Remember your skin, Ron,” said Malfoy in an admonishing tone.

Ron let out a sharp breath. It seemed as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Besides, I can be very generous when I want,” he continued, now moving his hand over Ron’s shoulder and down his spine using his nails just a bit to create some friction. Ron felt his cock twitch.

‘Oh Merlin, no, not now,’ he thought. Ron rose off of his side and scooted as far away as he could without falling off of the bed.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he said hoarsely.

“No? I think you do. You want your skin. You want your family’s safety also, no? I can give all that and more to you,” Malfoy purred.

Ron who’d been glancing out of the corner of his eye refusing to look directly at him, was struck by the sight of Malfoy sitting cross-legged on the bed, his cock already hard and leaking a bit.

“All you want is a shag,” Ron said bitterly.

“I could get that anywhere, Ron,” the blonde said tossing his head a bit.

“That and humiliating me,” Ron said.

“Strangely enough no,” said the now smirking Slytherin. “Although I’ll admit that a year or two ago that might have been my prime motivation.”

“Then what?” asked Ron suspiciously, his arms wrapping around his knees trying to hide his nudity.

“I want something that’s mine and only mine,” the silver eyed boy said as he began to crawl on all fours towards Ron’s position. “I want you to be the first step towards my independence, my move away from my father’s demands and expectations.”

Ron felt his cock twitch again. Malfoy looked like some kneazle stalking his prey and it was turning him on a bit. He felt a shudder run through his body.

The blonde boy stopped and gracefully knelt back on his heels in front of Ron, placing both hands on the sides of Ron’s thighs.

Ron kept his legs locked together tightly with his arms tapering into steel bands as if he had some ability to glue himself together to forbid further intrusion into his personal space.

Draco removed one of his arms and spoke, “Accio oil.”

The small bottle left behind on the floor rocketed into Malfoy’s hand. He put it gently down on the bed.

Ron’s eyebrows rose. Only an advanced and powerful wizard could do wandless magic.

“It never pays to underestimate me, Ron” he said, cocking his head slightly. “I can be a good ally or a very bad enemy. Not even my father is aware of the breadth of my…abilities.”

“Malfoy…” Ron began.

“You’d better start calling me Draco as we’re about to be on pretty intimate terms,” he ordered. “I’d rather have you scream Draco than Malfoy in the heat of passion.”

Ron bit his lip. He was torn between the need to gouge out smirking Slytherin’s eyes while his hands itched to reach out and touch the other boy’s ivory skin and flat pinkish nipples.

Gah. What was he thinking? This was MALFOY. A young Death Eater in training.

“Not if I can help it,” he muttered rebelliously.

Draco grinned.

“Your affronted virgin pose is rather interesting considering the fact you’re getting hard,” Malfoy said with a small chuckle.

Ron felt his face turn hot.

“I don’t like boys,” he blurted out.

“Well apparently you like me,” said Draco smugly.

Ron glared at Draco.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

Ron stiffened.

“Not for that you twat, at least not yet,” Draco said.

Ron tried to gauge his chances of punching the other boy but felt his will shrivel. What would it accomplish in the long run save for angering the other boy?

He grudgingly turned his back on the Slytherin.

Ron heard Draco say something under his breath and heard the clink of the bottle. Then he felt oil warmed hands on his back.

“Relax,” he heard Draco whisper.

Strong hands started to stroke his backsingsing away some of the tension in his muscles.

Ron almost grunted in pleasure when Draco began to knead the muscles in his neck and shoulders.

“We can be good together, Ron,” Draco said in a soothing manner.

Ron tensed a bit at that but soon settled back again as he felt thumbs digging into his spinal column working out some of the painful tightness there.

“I don’t intend to make the same mistakes my father has,” Draco said almost curtly.

“Like getting yourself thrown into Azkaban,” Ron said letting his tongue run away from him.

“Exactly,” said the other boy in an unruffled manner.

Ron exhaled a deep breath he’d been holding.

“I don’t intend to become pawn for a madman…either of them,” Draco said tranquilly.

“There’s only one madman and that’s you-know-who,” Ron said stoutly.

Draco’s hands stilled.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Ron. Voldemort and Dumbledore are both barking mad. The great ones usually are.”

“The Headmaster is a great man and he’s fighting…” Ron began.

“He’ll do what he has to, use who he has to, in order to succeed in this war. That includes sacrificing Potter if need be,” Draco said with a snort.

Ron, who had begun to have some nasty suspicions himself lately about Dumbledore’s motives, fell silent.

Draco’s hands resumed their stroking and kneading.

“I won’t bend my knee to either of them. I’m a Malfoy, not some minor wizard of questionable lineage,” he said loftily.

“Won’t that go over well with Volde…you-know-who when he asks you to take the mark,” Ron said sourly.

“I’ve got that covered. I’ll inform him that with my father’s fall from grace I’d be far better off unmarked and working for him in secret,” Draco said, now stroking downward towards Ron’s buttocks.

Distracted, Ron tried to drag his thoughts away from the physical sensations.

“You’ll be spying for him?” Ron asked sharply.

“Merlin, no! Do you think I want to get killed?” Draco said in some amusement.

“Then how do you…”

“I’ll feed him just enough correct information to make him think I’m doing something for the ‘cause’ but, at the same time, I’ll tell Dumbledore that I’m staying neutral in this war. I won’t help but I won’t hinder him either.”

“And this helps you how?” Ron asked, his curiosity truly piqued now.

Draco snorted.

“It’s a win-win situation for me. If Voldemort wins then I’m his loyal aide-de-camp. If Dumbledore wins then the Ministry won’t be able strip my family’s lands and fortune from me.”

Ron was appalled by the sheer gall of the other boy and was about to say so when he felt fingers wiggling into the cleft of his buttocks.

“Ack,” he said as he shot off the mattress.

“Enough talk. Lie down on you stomach over there,” said Draco pointing to the middle of the bed.

Ron froze in place. ‘Oh Merlin, oh Merlin. I’m not ready,’ he thought.

A hand smacked him hard across his buttocks sounding like a lightening crack. To his eternal shame Ron felt himself harden even further.

Draco’s expression altered, his silver eyes narrowed and his breathing became more rapid. The coolness he’d exhibited up until then was rapidly being replaced by a most predatory expression.

“On your stomach,” he growled out and Ron found himself sprawling forward on his stomach like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Ron couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Draco starting to apply some of the oil lovingly to his cock. Quite frankly he’d never seen anything quite as hot as that, not even in the twin’s stash of wizarding porn magazines.

Ron tried to drum up hatred or at the very least indignation at the situation he found himself in but he could only feel the buzz of arousal pulsing through him.

‘Bloody hell,’ he thought. ‘Maybe I do bat for both teams’.

After Draco finished preparing his cock, he eased forward and ran his hands down Ron’s buttocks.

“Spread your legs,” Draco commanded.

Feeling very self-conscious, Ron parted his legs slightly.

Draco smacked his ass again smartly.

“Wider,” he ordered.

Ron followed the command and soon he felt fingers running along the cleft and then dipping towards his tightly puckered entrance. He tensed automatically.

But Draco just gently worked his fingers around his entrance without trying to push any further. It didn’t feel awful but a bit embarrassing maybe. No one had ever touched him ‘there’ before.

“Not so bad, eh?” Draco said in a soothing tone. “It’ll get better,” he said and then pushed one finger into his opening.

Ron didn’t notice much of a difference except if felt very odd to have someone’s finger up his arse.

Draco wiggled it a bit and Ron almost felt a need to push back.

“Now two,” Draco said as he pushed another digit in.

‘Ouch’ Ron thought.

Draco, sensing Ron’s discomfort, held his fingers still.

“Painful?” he inquired.

“Burns,” Ron grunted.

“You’re very tight…but that’s to be expected from your first-time,” Draco said in matter of fact tones.

“You’ve done this a lot have you?” Ron said sarcastically.

“Enough,” said Draco, suddenly twisting his fingers.

Ron sucked in his breath at the sudden flash of pain.

“So much tighter than a girl,” Draco commented.

“I can’t see the attraction myself,” Ron grunted feeling like a two-bit whore.

“Oh, I think you’ll like bottoming for me,” Draco said and started to push and move the fingers again.

Draco curled his fingers and Ron gasped at the sensation. It was like a lightening bolt straight to his cock.

A loud moan broke from Ron’s lips.

Draco chuckled.

“There are some advantages,” he said and then moved a third finger into Ron as well.

There the ‘burn’ was back again, but Ron didn’t mind it so much when Draco again stroked that spot inside him. His cock, which had started to go soft when the first pain occurred, had firmed up nicely again.

Draco withdrew his fingers and wiped them on the bed.

“Up on your hands and knees,” he said in hoarse voice.

Shaking, Ron tried not to visualize what was happening behind him. He would get through this somehow but any dignity he’d ever had was blown to pieces.

Ron felt his cheeks being parted and a blunt, rather large part of Draco’s anatomy started to become acquainted with his opening. Draco rubbed up against the opening and then started to push forward.

Ron felt tears pricking at his eyes as the other boy pushed inexorably forward inch by inch. It hurt like bloody hell.

When Draco was half-way inside he paused and bent over Ron’s back.

“Alright?” he growled.

“Just bloody well get it over with,” Ron replied in a temper. Oh Merlin just let this humiliation be over.

Ron screamed as Draco plunged the rest of way in.

Draco gasped and held his position with his chest resting lightly on Ron’s back.

“It’ll get better love,” he said in a breathless tone to the red-head.

Ron privately doubted it. This was awful. He felt as if he’d been split in two.

Draco rocked gently back and forth.

Ron felt some of the tension leave him but he still wanted Draco out of him.

Draco pulled part of the way back and then pushed forward again.

He did that again but changed his angle.

Ron let out a yell. That felt good.

“Got it,” Draco said smugly.

Draco continued to snap his hips back and forth catching that angle and Ron was overcome by a pleasure loop that was now far outweighing the initial discomfort. He found himself moving in concert with Draco’s thrusts trying to reach more of that bliss.

Ron found himself leaning down on his arms so that his ass was at a higher angle.

Draco laughed but Ron could find no malice in it.

The force of Draco’s thrusts started to increase.

“Touch yourself,” the blonde ordered.

Ron grabbed his own cock and started to pull it in time with Draco’s now hard pumping. His eyes started to roll back in his head. The combined sensations inside and out made him forget his own name. All he wanted was ‘more’ and soon.

“Harder!” he gasped out.

Draco grabbed his hips in an iron grip and began to pound so hard Ron felt himself almost lose his balance.

Ron’s right hand kept working and he heard himself mewling. The sounds of skin slapping on skin along with the sounds of their combined moans were turning him on fiercely. He’d always had to be so silent and circumspect in the dorms or at home when he’d masturbated but here, with Draco, he didn’t have to hold anything back. It was very freeing almost intoxicating.

The bed rocked as Draco’s thrusts started to become more erratic.

“Come for me, Ron,” he said breathlessly.

Ron felt his balls tighten and then was spurting over his hand screaming as he came.

Draco let loose with a hoarse shout and thrust once more holding onto Ron tightly as he filled Ron with his semen.

Ron collapsed forward with Draco falling on top of him, both of them breathing as though they’d run a marathon.

Ron felt the thrumming in his blood start to quiet. He felt Draco soften within him and slip out.

Ron shifted a bit as Draco was getting a bit heavy. Draco obligingly rolled off him and onto his back.

He felt incapable of speech and remained so for a few minutes. Shame started to creep up on little cat feet as the impact of what he’d done started to hit home.

“I told you so,” Draco said softly.

Ron had his head turned away from the other boy and fervently wished he could apparate away to the other side of the world right about now.

“Ron?” he heard and then felt a hand caress the back of his head.

“We need to clean up,” Draco said pragmatically.

Ron then became aware he was lying in a wet spot.

Ugh. He pushed himself up but still kept his back to the Slytherin. He couldn’t bear the sight of the smug expression he expected to see on his face.

Draco didn’t say anything but clambered off the bed and bent to pick up his wand from where he’d left it. Ron’s eyes skittered away from the sight of Draco naked as the day he was born.

It was then he felt it…he was leaking. Draco’s semen was running out of him. His face turned a brilliant red. Could this day get any worse?

“Ron, what’s wrong?” he heard Draco say sharply.

Ron could only make a noncommittal grunt.

“Did I hurt you? Are you bleeding? Let me see?” he said.

“Geroff,” Ron snapped as Draco tried to turn him around.

“It’s just,” he said waving his hands ineffectually trying to explain.

“Oh, that,” Draco said with a smile in his voice.

Draco muttered two cleaning spells and Ron felt a bit more normal.

All he wanted to do was dress and get out. Each boy started to dress silently.

Ron was finished first and stood in front of the door waiting to be released.

“In a hurry to leave?” he heard Draco say dryly.

Ron refused to answer but only kept his head down trying to pretend he was invisible. Maybe he could get one of his friends to obliviate him.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” Draco said.

When Ron didn’t respond Draco grabbed his arm hard and spun him around. He could see anger in those cool gray eyes as well as some unidentified emotion.

“You’ll go when I give you leave to go,” he rasped and then kissed Ron hard their teeth clacking together.

Ron didn’t resist but neither did he encourage the intrusion. Trust the Slytherin to make his ownership statement again and again.

Ron wrenched his mouth away.

“I’ll do what you say. I’ve got no choice have I?” he said shortly.

“None” Draco said.

Ron, a little frightened he’d angered the blonde boy to some horrid new level, snuck a peek at Draco’s expression from under his lashes. He looked…no it couldn’t be. He looked a bit anxious.

“Good,” said Draco sounding relieved and dove in for a gentler kiss.

Ron, somewhat surprised by the new tactic, relaxed this time into the kiss. He heard a little moan come from Draco as he explored the other boy’s mouth sweetly.

Ron felt an answering quiver run through his body. Oh well, may as well be hung a sheep as for a lamb. He put his arms around Draco’s waist and pulled him closer.

He felt the growl from Draco run through his mouth reverberate throughout him.

It was then that the revelation hit him. Draco needed him in some indefinable way that Ron couldn’t as yet name. Not just for a quick shag---as Draco had admitted himself he could get that anywhere. Then what?

Draco pulled out of the kiss and began to mouth his way along Ron’s neck leaving love bites as he went.

Ron’s higher brain functions were starting to short out with Draco’s continued attentions but one thing struck him. He’d never been ‘needed’ by anyone—not really. Whatever attention he’d garnered in life seemed almost incidental and mostly due to his proximity to the boy-who-lived. But, surprisingly, this was clearly about him. In some way this made him feel important and empowered. He did have a sort of control in this mad relationship with the Slytherin.

For the first time that afternoon he completely relaxed.


Draco felt the change in his new lover’s body and pushed himself back to look at the other boy. He expected to see anger or dismay but Ron looked unaccountably calm.

This worried Draco.

He smoothed his hair back in an attempt to get himself back under control. A Malfoy never let anyone have the upper hand.

“Time to leave before someone notices we’re gone,” he said.

Ron just nodded.

“Well, move,” he said in his most irritable tone.

Ron moved away from the door and Draco removed the locking and silencing charm. He looked back and casually turned the bed back into a handkerchief.

“You can go now,” he said coolly to the red-headed Gryffindor.

Ron’s hand fumbled at the door nervously but finally got it open.

“I’ll let you know when I want to see you again,” Draco said. “If I want to see you again.”

The Gryffindor stopped but didn’t turn around. He bent down and picked up his wand in the dirt and stuck it in his pocket.

“Alright,” he said and started to walk off in the direction of the castle.

Draco watched intently until the young Gryffindor had disappeared completely from his view. He stood in the door for several more minutes before he quietly closed the door behind him and made his way back towards the village.


End