Unbecoming

Chapter Five

“Hey. Hey, Weasley. Ron. Wake up.” Growling, Malfoy nudged his shoulder and, still mostly asleep, Ron slapped his hand weakly. “No, seriously,” Malfoy whined. “Your head’s cutting off circulation to my hand.” There was more tugging and a muffled grunt, and then, irritated, Malfoy shoved him. “Hey!” he snapped. “Wake up.”

With a sleepy moan, Ron rolled over to face him, opening one eye and glaring. “I was sleeping,” he mumbled, stretching a bit and ignoring the way his entire body pressed against Malfoy’s when he moved. Snorting happily, he snuggled close and closed his eyes again.

“No,” Malfoy said. “No, no, no. Up. Wake up. Damn it, Weasley.” He jerked his arm out from under Ron’s head, causing him to yelp as it to fall to the bed.

“What was that for?” he asked, sitting up and blinking sleepily.

Wincing as he rubbed his arm, Malfoy snapped, “I told you, you were cutting off circulation to my hand!”

Ron hadn’t processed a single word Malfoy had said, because he’d suddenly remembered that he had spent the night in Malfoy’s bed, and not only that, that Malfoy was barely dressed. He hadn’t noticed the night before, but then, it had been quite dark then, and now… now there was no darkness to obscure the image of Draco Malfoy reclining lazily in bed with hardly any clothes on, hair wild, and eyes sleepy.

“You’re beautiful,” Ron said accidentally, and then he flinched away, startled. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, mortified. “I didn’t mean —”

“Forget it,” Malfoy said quickly, looking distantly and mildly amused. It would have added to Ron’s humiliation, except that there were two bright red spots steadily getting brighter on Malfoy’s cheeks. He was blushing, though he tried to hide it, snatching his pack of cigarettes up off the bedside table and lighting one quickly. Ron grinned. He’d made the worldly Malfoy blush?

“Smoking’s a nasty habit,” he said, even as he contentedly lay back down beside Malfoy, resting his head on the other boy’s shoulder. If Malfoy was surprised, he didn’t show it, only wrapped his arm around Ron and let his hand rest on his chest. Ron had just let his eyes close sleepily when the door flew open.

It was Ginny. “Malfoy, Ron’s gone, I’ve looked every--… Oh my god.”

Ron’s eyes flew open and he yelped, snatching the blanket and throwing it up over his head, even as he heard Malfoy’s lazy reply. “Apparently you didn’t look everywhere after all. He’s fine.”

“I… I can see that.” She sounded faint and Ron squeezed his eyes shut in horror.

“You can go now,” Malfoy prompted.

“Umm, yes.” Then she was gone, closing the door softly behind her.

There was a long silence, and then Malfoy poked him. “She’s gone,” he said. “You can come out now.”

“Do you think she knew it was me?” he asked shakily.

“Oh, I’m quite sure that if she didn’t recognize you before you hid, she most likely could tell given the fact that your hair is sticking up wildly and glinting in the sunlight. She most likely would have recognized that, given that you Weasleys are the only ones I’ve ever met with such a garish hair colour.”

Ron moaned, mortified. “Why didn’t you tell me the top of my head wasn’t covered?” he snapped, fighting his way out of the blanket. Malfoy was still smoking calmly, smirking, and Ron wanted, suddenly, to hit him. “You do know what she’s going to think about me now, don’t you?” he growled.

The amusement was gone from Malfoy’s face then, and he snapped, “Who the hell cares what she thinks? Besides, it’s true.”

Stung, Ron pulled away. “Shut up,” he whispered.

“Oh, you’re right,” Malfoy sneered. “It’s not true, not at all. Letting me kiss you and sleeping with me—”

“Sleeping in the same bed and sleeping with you are two totally different things!”

Malfoy ignored him. “And all that shit you said last night, about wanting to touch me… and not to mention that boy you let shag you that night…. All of that is perfectly heterosexual behavior.”

“Stop it,” Ron whispered, crawling away and watching Malfoy with wide-eyes.

“And kissing Potter, let’s not forget about that. I’m sure that was a perfectly easy mistake, could have been made by any heterosexual out there!”

Flinching, Ron whimpered, “I was drunk.”

“You know what your problem is, Weasley? You’re perfectly content with being what you are as long as it doesn’t require any action on your part. It’s alright for you to be touched and be kissed and be bloody well shagged because that doesn’t mean it’s real. That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you, that means there’s something wrong with whoever does the touching and kissing and shagging. That means they’re perverted and wrong and twisted and it doesn’t fucking matter if you liked it, does it? Because that isn’t the issue, the issue is that it wasn’t you. It was them. Which means that you’re normal. Doesn’t it?”

“I-I don’t know. Stop, Malfoy, just… please…”

He tossed his cigarette into a glass on the bedside table and sat up, crawling towards Ron, looking furious. “But it isn’t right, is it?” he taunted. “Because you like it. And that’s what you’re so scared of. Not that you’re gay, but that you like being that way. That it feels right.”

“Stop it,” Ron hissed.

“But you like it,” Malfoy said in a silky whisper, close enough now to touch. “Don’t you like it, Weasley? You can tell me…”

“Get away from me.” His voice was shaking but Ron couldn’t remember how to run.

“Don’t you want me to touch you?” Malfoy was smirking coldly. “C’mon, you don’t even have to touch me back, that’s the way you like it, isn’t it?” He reached forward and touched Ron’s face, tracing his lips and then letting his fingers trail down Ron’s neck, over his collarbone and his chest. He paused there, looking almost coyly into Ron’s eyes. “Tell me you don’t like it when I touch you, if you’re so fucking heterosexual.”

Ron swallowed hard and opened his lips to reply, but before he could get a single word out, Malfoy’s hand slipped almost casually lower, over his stomach and then under his shirt. “I-I don’t like…”

“Are you sure?” Malfoy whispered, leaning so close that his lips brushed the corner of Ron’s mouth as his hand slipped lower, into Ron’s sensible cotton pajama bottoms.

“N-No… I mean… yes… I mean… Please, Malfoy...” He was breathing heavily and had anyone asked, he really wouldn’t have been able to say if he was begging Malfoy to stop or keep going.

Malfoy kissed his lips very gently and whispered wistfully, “Let me know when you figure it out, Weasley. I don’t have time for people who are too scared to admit that they want me.”

Before Ron could reply, Malfoy was off the bed and out of the room, closing the door behind him. Moments later, he heard the shower start, and flopped back on the bed and groaned. It was too early in the day for a mess this massive, he decided mournfully.

He dressed quickly and hurried out of the room, looking for Ginny. Explaining things to her seemed the most important thing at the moment… or at least, the easiest to deal with. He’d simply tell her that nothing had happened (which it hadn’t, not really) and then hopefully she wouldn’t think he was… well, gay.

Because he wasn’t.

He found her in the living room and all his courage deserted him. He froze and she smiled at him, though it was shaky. “Ron? Are you alright?” she asked.

“I’ve gotta…go. I mean… things to see to, and…” He backed nervously towards the door, but Ginny grabbed his hand and forced him to sit down beside her.

“Stop that,” she chided, still holding his hand tightly so he could not bolt for the door. “We need to talk.”

He sighed and said, “Yeah, actually, we do. It wasn’t… wasn’t what you thought.”

She considered this for a long moment and then said, “Ron. Don’t be a complete moron and don’t take me for one either.”

“What?” he squeaked.

“Do you even know what it looked like?”

“I’m not gay!” he cried.

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Well if Draco Malfoy wants to hold you like that then you bloody well should be!”

“…What?”

“Harry told me, Ron. A few days ago, he told me that you had kissed him. It was right after you first woke up from the fever, when you freaked out so badly to see him in your bedroom. Why didn’t you tell me?” She looked sad now, and Ron swallowed guiltily.

“It was wrong,” he whispered.

“You’re being a complete idiot,” she told him, with utmost gentleness.

“You don’t understand.”

“Listen to me,” she said sternly, tightening her hold on his hand. “It’s alright.”

Ron tried to pull away. “I told you, you don’t understand!”

“It’s alright, Ron,” she said again, her free hand grabbing his ear to force him to look at her. “If you like Malfoy, it’s alright. Granted, he’s not the nicest fellow I’ve ever had the privilege of living with and he’s a right bastard most of the time, but if you like him, that doesn’t change a thing. Just like you kissing Harry doesn’t change a thing. I don’t care.”

“It’s not that simple,” Ron pleaded.

“Have you kissed him?” she asked abruptly.

“Harry?”

“Malfoy.”

“…Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

“Ginny—”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“How much simpler could it be?” she cried.

“I… well, a lot simpler, really. He could be an attractive, nubile bar wench and I could be a studly lumberjack. That, I could see happening.”

Ginny blinked. “What?”

“Or I could be an attractive female secretary and he could be the divorced, rich, attractive executive.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Or I could be a king and he could be a dancing girl in my harem and—”

“Ron!” she wailed. “Please, get to the point, the mental pictures are not helping!”

“What I mean,” he growled, “is that he’s a boy, Ginny. I am too, if you hadn’t noticed.”

She shrugged. “Well, being a girl doesn’t make things any simpler, let me assure you. I mean, I’ve been a good girl. The very definition of normal, if you discount that nasty incident in the Chamber of Secrets.” She scowled. “My point is, don’t be such an idiot, Ron. There are a lot more complicated things out there than being attracted to another guy. You could be attracted to… to Professor Sprout. That would be wrong. You could be attracted to dogs or bats. That would be wrong. Malfoy’s one of the most gorgeous people I’ve ever seen. Being attracted to him seems rather inevitable, not wrong.”

“But I’m not gay,” Ron whispered.

“Would it be such a bad thing if you were?”

“It would be scary.”

“Being straight’s scary. Trust me.” She smiled almost bitterly, and then said, “Do you remember when you asked me what I wanted, way back before Fred and George’s birthday? And I said something real?”

“Yes.”

“If your something real is with a boy, Ron, do you honestly think it’s going to make a difference to me?”

Ron’s shoulders slumped and he glanced away, licking his lips and sighing. “He’s kind of mad at me anyway.”

“Well, I can only imagine how frustrating it must be, being a guy sleeping with another guy who keeps insisting that he’s straight.”

Ron scowled. “I didn’t sleep with him!”

She smirked. “Well, I’d imagine that must have been pretty frustrating for him too.”

“Ginny,” Ron said faintly, looking horrified.

Laughing, she said, “Just go talk to him.” She tossed him a devious look and said, “Take as long as you need, too, I’m sure Malfoy’ll appreciate it, and I’ll keep Harry occupied with research or something.”

Before Ron could think up a suitably disapproving reply, Ginny was gone and he was alone, mouth hanging open and face slowly turning red.

Malfoy had just gotten out of the shower when Ron slipped back into his room. Wrapped in a towel, he was sorting through the top two dresser drawers, which he had cleared for himself, looking for something to wear.

Ron cleared his throat nervously and Malfoy said, over his shoulder, “I know you’re there, Weasley. What do you want?”

It was too easy, and Ron let out the breath he’d been holding. “I… You.” His voice cracked. Bloody hell.

Malfoy scowled and tossed the shirt he’d been inspecting aside before turning to face him. “What?”

“I want you.” It almost sounded sexy, he assured himself. Only a little squeaky. Almost even sounded like he knew what he was doing, sort of.

Malfoy tilted his head and studied him for a long moment before smiling a bit. “Are you trying to be seductive, Weasley? Because I have to admit, a guy wearing cotton pajamas and looking like a frightened rabbit hardly turns me on.”

Ron growled a little and turned away, breathing heavily and fighting with the doorknob. He needed to escape, he couldn’t do this, couldn’t stand to be laughed at and— why the hell wouldn’t the door open? His hands were so fucking sweaty, fuck…

“Weasley. Weasley, stop it,” Malfoy sighed from where he stood across the room. Ron ignored him, whimpered a bit, and wiped his hand on his trousers before trying the doorknob again. “C’mere,” Malfoy called coaxingly, and Ron gave up on the door and turned around, flattening himself against it. Malfoy grinned a little and held out his hand. “You’re not scared, are you?” he teased.

“Malfoy…” Ron pleaded. “Just… let me go. I shouldn’t have… I mean, I thought…”

Malfoy was there suddenly, pinning him to the door. “But I don’t want you to go,” he said.

“You’re only wearing a towel,” Ron reminded him faintly, having decided earlier that he rather liked being in the same room when Malfoy was only wearing a towel, but suddenly all too aware of how little it covered.

“I had noticed.”

“I…well… But… we can hardly discuss this in a logical sort of way when you’re only wearing a sodding towel, Malfoy!”

“Mmm, I know,” Malfoy purred, leaning forward and nibbling Ron’s earlobe.

“M-Malfoy,” Ron stammered.

“Just…” He pulled away, rolling his eyes. “Breathe, okay?”

“I am breathing,” Ron said weakly.

“D’you really want to discuss this in a logical sort of way?” Malfoy seemed almost to be pouting and Ron squirmed.

“I… well, no. Well, I did want to tell you that you were wrong.”

“I’m never wrong.”

“Liar. You said that I was too scared to admit that I wanted you. But I did, last night, and you… didn’t care. I asked if I could touch you and you asked if I meant by accident…”

Malfoy sighed. “Last night you were so confused that you didn’t know what you wanted,” he said.

“I did,” Ron said quietly. “I knew I wanted you.”

Stepping back and studying him critically, Malfoy smiled a little. “Wow, Weasley, your voice didn’t even crack that time.”

Rolling his eyes and turning a little red, Ron shook his head. “Shut up, Malfoy,” he said, grinning a little sheepishly.

“Are we done with the logical discussion?”

Ron considered for a moment and then said, only partially seriously, “I suppose. That wasn’t so hard, admitting that. I feel a bit better, really. I should probably go tell Ginny, she was awfully worried that I was gonna screw this up.”

As he spoke, he was fumbling again with the doorknob, and he’d just finally managed to turn it when Malfoy growled, “Weasley, don’t you dare. C’mere.”

Shooting a devious look over his shoulder, Ron snickered. When Malfoy only glared threateningly, he rolled his eyes, kicked the door shut, spun around, and grinned. “Oh, honestly, Malfoy,” he chided. “You think anyone could walk away from you when you use that tone?” And then he snickered again, even as he threw himself at Malfoy, knocking the other boy back onto the bed.

Malfoy yelped, barely managing to catch Ron and stop himself from smashing his head on the headboard. “That was sexy,” he said, still rather stunned. Ron sat on top of him, beaming.

“Malfoy?” Ron whispered a moment later.

“Yeah?”

“Your towel’s slipping.”

“I, uh, know.”

“And also…”

“What?”

“This doesn’t mean I’m not scared… I mean, if I was any more scared, I think I’d be running from the room screaming.”

Malfoy grabbed his wrist tightly, just in case. “It’ll be fine,” he said.

Smiling nervously, Ron slipped off of him and knelt beside him, chewing his lower lip. Malfoy sat up, shifting a bit and adjusting his towel, and Ron watched him.

“Malfoy?” he said finally, voice a little husky.

“Mmm?” Malfoy asked, still adjusting the towel and tightening the knot.

“Remember how I said I wanted you?”

“Yeah.”

“I meant today.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?” Malfoy mumbled, even as he got to his knees so he was facing Ron and grinned. “You were the one going on about logical conversations and all that rot—”

He got no further because Ron had grabbed him roughly and jerked him forward so that their lips crashed together. Startled, Malfoy lost his balance and they both fell back, landing tangled together, the towel lost somewhere in the fall.

Ron briefly considered freaking out at Malfoy’s sudden nudity, but it seemed so much easier to just close his eyes and hold onto the other boy tightly and kiss him till he couldn’t breathe. And much more pleasurable besides.

“Weasley?” Malfoy gasped a moment later, crushed beneath Ron.

“Mmm?”

“I can’t breathe, you’re crushing my windpipe with your arm.”

“Shit, sorry…” He backed off, feeling a little giddy. He shook his head, trying to clear the fuzziness, and Malfoy grinned at him, rubbing his throat.

“Better,” he said. “But slower would probably work better, yeah?”

“Slower isn’t good,” Ron objected.

“Why?”

“It lasts too long. Get it over with fast, that’s my motto.”

Malfoy frowned. “Why?” he asked again.

“Well… it’s going to be nasty and it’s going to hurt, I remember.”

Moaning and flopping back onto the bed, Malfoy buried his face in his hands. “You’re so bloody frustrating!”

He was carefully draping the sheet over Malfoy’s lower body, so Ron didn’t bother to reply. Finally, Malfoy looked up at him. “Listen, alright?” he said, obviously straining for patience. “Just…trust me.”

Ron tilted his head a bit and brushed his hair out of his eyes, biting his lip thoughtfully. “But it will hurt.”

“It won’t. I swear, I won’t do anything to hurt you. Just… stop thinking so much, alright?”

He was shaking, just a little bit, but he nodded once. “Right,” he whispered, feeling like he’d just signed some sort of pact with the devil.

Malfoy smiled, almost sweetly. “Good.” He sat up, scowled at the sheet Ron had so carefully covered him with, and kicked it off. Then, kneeling in front of Ron, he smiled again, encouragingly, and leaned forward and kissed him.

It was careful and light and teasing, as non-threatening as it could possibly be, and Ron let himself relax into the kiss, sighing a little and bringing his hands up to rest on Malfoy’s shoulders. Malfoy trailed his hands down Ron’s back and then slipped them under his shirt, pushing it up over his head. The kiss was broken for a breathless moment while Ron’s head was tangled in his shirt, and that moment was nearly enough to bring back the panic, but then the shirt was gone and Malfoy was kissing him again, warmly and sweetly and carefully, not giving him time to think about anything else. Including Malfoy’s hands on his naked chest, or his own hands on Malfoy’s naked shoulders, or anything at all really.

Running his fingers through Ron’s hair, Malfoy tugged lightly until Ron tilted his head back, and then slid lower, kissing and licking the hollow of his throat. Ron shivered, closing his eyes.

“Lie back,” Malfoy whispered.

Ron’s eyes flew open. “What?” he asked shakily.

“Trust me,” Malfoy said again, coaxingly, nudging him and biting the side of his neck gently.

“I don’t think I can—”

Malfoy growled a bit and shut him up by kissing him hard until he forgot to be scared, forgot to protest, forgot how to breathe, and when the lack of oxygen went straight to his brain, he melted against Malfoy with a contented sigh. Smirking, Malfoy pushed him until he was lying on his back, eyes glazed over and dark, and then came down on top of him.

It was rather pleasant, Ron decided, lying like this. And it wasn’t wrong because he still had his pajama bottoms on (he conveniently forgot that Malfoy didn’t have anything on at all, which was rather hard considering one of his hands had somehow slid from his shoulder, down over his back, and lower).

Malfoy was on top of him, naked chest pressed to his, kissing him (Ron’s lips were tingling and so was his tongue and it was the strangest thing. It felt like it should sting but it didn’t). When Malfoy finally paused for a breath, backing off a bit, Ron opened his eyes and blinked lethargically up at him, smiling a bit. Malfoy was panting, his hair, still damp from his shower, brushed off his face and standing in erratic spikes, still showing the trails Ron’s fingers had made. His lips were swollen as well and Ron reached up with one shaking finger and traced them with his thumb, laughing a bit when Malfoy reacted by biting him.

It became more serious a moment later, however, when Malfoy ground his hips down, as if reminding Ron that this was nothing to laugh at. The laughter choked in Ron’s throat and turned into a panicky moan because suddenly things had escalated from kissing and being close to something more wild and feral and he couldn’t breathe.

“Close your eyes,” Malfoy said, and Ron did.

There was a breathless moment in which the only sound was his erratic breathing and he became hyperaware of every place Malfoy’s body touched his, trying to guess where he would be touched next, or kissed, licked, bitten, something, anything, and the waiting had almost gotten to be too much when finally, Malfoy slipped lower and licked a light pattern across his chest.

Startled, Ron sucked in a sudden breath and let it out in a hiss, his eyelids fluttering but staying closed. Laughing huskily, Malfoy did it again, sliding lower and tracing the same pattern across the muscles of Ron’s stomach.

Ron was just beginning to get nervous again when Malfoy came back up, tilting his face with one hand and slamming his mouth down hard, forcing his tongue back inside. Startled, Ron kissed him back all the same, was even so distracted (which, he would later decide, had been Malfoy’s intention) that he didn’t notice Malfoy’s hand slipping inside his trousers until it was too late to panic.

Then Ron yelped and tore away, staring up at Malfoy with wide eyes and panting so raggedly that he was due to hyperventilate at any moment.

Still, Malfoy kept touching him, stroking him and tracing strange circles on his hot skin, making it burn hotter.

Smiling a bit, Malfoy kissed the corner of Ron’s lips and then lowered his head, until he was nuzzling just behind Ron’s ear. “It’s alright,” he said, and Ron shivered, a strangled moan burning in his throat. His eyes squeezed shut even as he pushed himself further into Malfoy’s hand, terrified and wanting all at once.

Malfoy laughed huskily and bit his ear gently. “Breathe,” he whispered, and Ron turned his head to face him, kissing him desperately, both hands tangling in Malfoy’s silky wet hair. It was a distraction from what Malfoy was doing to him, though hardly a satisfactory one. No, no, actually, it rather seemed to add to his desperate whimpers and the frequency with which he found himself grinding his erection into Malfoy’s hand. Fuck…

“Calm down,” Malfoy said finally, pulling his hand away and studying Ron’s face for a moment. “You’ve got to breathe.”

“I am… breathing…” Ron gasped. Then he looked sulky. “You stopped. Why did you —”

“Shh,” Malfoy chided, rolling his eyes. “Greedy bugger, just a sec.”

Ron wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to care that all of a sudden his trousers were gone and tossed to the floor. He wasn’t thinking straight at all anymore, all that mattered was that Malfoy wasn’t close enough anymore and he needed… He shifted a bit and whimpered and Malfoy laughed, kissing him lightly.

There were already bruises forming on Ron’s throat, and Malfoy swirled his tongue around those as he slid lower. Ron watched with shadowy, heavy eyes as Malfoy bit and licked and kissed his chest, his stomach, and then slid even lower.

“Wait,” he croaked, his voice dry and husky.

Malfoy looked up at him in perfect innocence and whispered, “Are you sure, Weasley?” And then, either to tease or demonstrate exactly what Ron would be missing, he licked him there again lightly.

It was warm and it was wet and it made his head fall back and his hips arch upwards even as he whispered, “Umm, okay…” His voice cracked but he didn’t care, because, with a husky laugh, Malfoy had repeated the licking motion only this time going farther.

Nothing Ron had ever experienced in his entire life had shaken him the way having Malfoy’s mouth around him did. He couldn’t catch his breath and he couldn’t stop trembling and he was sure that he was going to die at any moment. It ached and it burned and it made him want to fall apart and melt and burn and…

Black spots were dancing in front of his eyes and he was panting so desperately that Malfoy pulled away. “Weasley,” he called, and Ron blinked and, with effort, focused on him. Malfoy grinned crookedly and said coaxingly, “Don’t forget to breathe, love.”

“Uh, I am,” Ron stammered, sucking in a deep breath to prove it.

“Mmm, good boy,” Malfoy whispered, before going right back to making him forget how to do it all over again.

Breathing and thinking became almost impossible and Ron lost all sense of time, all sense of anything, really, except Malfoy and every place he touched him.

“D-Draco?” Ron squeaked, maybe forever later, trying to sit up. Rolling his eyes, Malfoy reached up and pushed him back lightly. “But… but you should…” Anything else he was trying to say was lost in a breathless moan as he came, burying his fingers in Malfoy's hair and clinging desperately.

It didn’t matter because everything suddenly seemed to drip away around him. Almost like the whole world was made out of sugar cubes that had suddenly been dropped into the hugest mug of coffee and began to melt away until all that was left were a few shimmery little bits.

“Ummh,” he breathed weakly.

Malfoy laughed a little, sitting up even as he rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his damp hair. Ron watched him, his vision a little hazy, his heart still racing. “Alright?” Malfoy asked, flopping down beside him.

Ron rolled onto his side, eyes wide and full of awe. “You have got to teach me how to do that.”

Malfoy blinked, looking a bit flustered, if the slight reddening of his face was any indication. “It’s not an exact science, Weasley,” he said, clearing his throat. Then he grinned slowly. “I have, however, got a free afternoon if you think you need practice…”

***

Ron’s face was abnormally flushed and he hoped no one noticed. Malfoy noticed, of course, but that was to be expected as he knew why Ron was feeling rather feverish. Of course, seeing as his natural colour was quite pale, he had to wonder how blind Harry and Ginny had to be not to notice the flush on his face.

They hadn’t commented, however, which was good. It meant they didn’t suspect anything, aside from what they already knew. Which was, in Harry’s case, that Ron had a strange tendency to get drunk and kiss other boys. Which wasn’t all that incriminating, really, in the grand scheme of things, especially considering what he’d proven to like doing to other boys whilst sober. In Ginny’s case, she simply knew that he had a small infatuation with Malfoy. And that he’d spent an inordinate amount of time closed up with Malfoy in a bedroom earlier that very day. But surely she didn’t suspect that they had done anything… Surely— any hopeful thoughts along those lines were firmly squashed when Ginny glanced across the table at him and smirked knowingly. Damn it.

“Right. So. Hit me,” Harry said.

Malfoy dealt him another card and Harry peeked at it and frowned in disappointment. Poker face of champions, that one.

They weren’t playing for money, which was good as Ron didn’t have any. They weren’t playing strip blackjack either, no, which was good as Ron had absolutely no desire to see his little sister naked. Instead, every time any of them lost, they had to share a secret with the others. Which was, Ron had decided ruefully, just a more sophisticated brand of Truth or Dare, and he’d always loathed that game.

Ginny won the hand, and this time, it was Harry who had gone highest over twenty-one. Ron tossed his cards into the table and slumped thankfully, content that at least he wouldn’t need to share one of his secrets, not that he had all that many, really. It wasn’t quantity that mattered but quality, however, and Ron had some very high quality secrets.

“Oh god,” Harry groaned.

The winner of the game got to ask the question, and Ginny was grinning like a cat as she thought carefully on what to ask.

Perhaps it was not the best use of their time. Perhaps they should have been researching or planning defensive protocol in case anything happened to Ginny. Filling out ministry paperwork, cleaning the bathroom, writing owls to their parents (Ron’s and Ginny’s, anyway), reassuring them that they were still alive. But it had been Ron who had half-heartedly suggested a game after dinner (though he’d suggested Yahtzee, that had quickly been veto’d by Malfoy who, he claimed, had a phobia of dice. Ron hadn’t asked, really. There were some things he felt he was better off not knowing.). So they had started playing cards, the game quickly evolving into this twisted, macabre and somewhat immature game of kiss and tell.

Ginny, eyes narrowed, finally said, “Right. Harry, name the one person in all the world you would shag if given half the chance.”

Ron tried to pretend to be interested, but all concentration he had was shot a moment later when Malfoy, who was sitting beside him, casually slid one hand onto his knee. Sitting up straight suddenly and sucking in a startled breath, he tried desperately not to yelp or anything, glad that Harry was distracted by glaring at Ginny, who was distracted by glaring back.

“Anyone in the world? Like someone famous or something?” Harry asked.

Ron didn’t care, really. Malfoy had glanced at him and smirked in that annoyingly smug way of his and slid his hand higher, onto his thigh. Ron’s breathing sped up a little and he grabbed Malfoy’s hand with his own, tugging on it and trying not to draw attention to himself. Malfoy smacked his hand lightly and snickered, but didn’t pull his hand away.

“Anyone. Famous, dead, not famous, evil, good, old, young, I don’t care. One person you’d shag. Hermione?” She snickered. “I won’t tell Percy. Or what about Fleur Delacour?”

Ron smothered a whimper as Malfoy’s hand slid higher, so casually. He turned his head, his dark eyes meeting Ron’s, and something almost electric snapped through Ron’s body and nothing for all the world could have made him break that strange, magnetic stare, nothing in all the world—

“Ron.”

Ron’s head snapped around and his eyes widened. He distantly heard Malfoy draw a startled breath, his hand falling away, and both of them stared incredulously at Harry, who was looking rather sheepish and staring at the table.

Ginny cleared her throat, suddenly aware of the awkward tension in the room. “Uhmm, what?”

“Yeah, excuse me?” Ron asked, quite sure he hadn’t heard correctly.

Harry shifted awkwardly. “Umm, well, I had to tell the truth or I’d have been whacked!” They’d cast truth charms around the table that could sense if someone lied and would deliver a sensation of being slapped across the face, just in the interest of keeping things fair. The bigger the lie, the harder the slap.

Ron blinked a few times, and then blinked again. “Oh,” he said.

Ginny didn’t seem to know how to respond at all. “Umm, you guys should talk about that later.” It came out in a rush with a nervous glance at Malfoy. Ron quickly looked over at him and saw his face was white with a strange sort of fury, and that Malfoy seemed unable to pull his eyes away from Harry, who was too busy staring at the table to notice anything. Hesitantly sliding his hand over and resting it lightly on Malfoy’s leg, Ron nudged him a little until Malfoy turned to look at him.

Offering a weak and hopefully reassuring smile, Ron said in a very falsely happy tone, “Let’s just play the next hand, okay?”

They played for a while more, but the fun (if the sadistic sort of grim pleasure they’d been enjoying previous to Harry’s confession could be called fun) was lost, and instead, an electric tension had fallen over the table that had nothing to do with the anti-cheating whacking charm.

It didn’t take long before the tension snapped and Malfoy tossed his cards and snapped some excuse before leaving the room. Ginny, chewing her lip fiercely, soon followed, claiming she had a headache. That left Ron and Harry alone, still defensively holding their cards.

Though the game was effectively over, Ron still stared at his hand, mentally counting up the cards. He had nine. Crap, what a shitty hand. If only Malfoy were still here to hit him again, then maybe he wouldn’t suck so badly and—

“Ron.”

His head snapped up and his hand trembled, cards slipping, face up, onto the table. “Oh. Umm. I should go too. Shopping to do. We’re out of… eggs.” He swallowed hard.

“Ron… I-I’m sorry.” Harry looked distinctly miserable and Ron felt a little guilty. Which was ridiculous, of course, but it was his nature to somehow believe that this was his fault.

“It’s alright… it was just a dumb game… besides, it doesn’t matter, right? I mean, it was a lie, right?” His eyes were wide and pleading.

“I didn’t get whacked, did I?” Harry said, sounding exasperated.

“But Harry!” Ron wailed. “You’re not… You’re… when I kissed you…”

“You said you didn’t remember that.”

“I lied! You said you didn’t like guys that way!”

“I lied.”

“Oh.”

They looked at each other, eyes narrowed. Ron was checking for some sign he must have missed before, something that would have hinted that maybe Harry was just as twisted as he was. There was no sign, nothing. He looked just the same.

“I just wanted you to know that just because I told you that, I don’t expect you to, you know, feel the same as you did back when you kissed me, that’s not… I didn’t come here for that… Draco brought me here… and before, when I asked if you and he were…t-together, it wasn’t because I was jealous, I just wanted to make sure that he wasn’t… wasn’t fucking with you.”

Ron squinted and he said slowly, “Fucking with me?”

“I’m so glad you’re not with him though,” Harry kept on babbling. “Because I wanted to warn you… and I was worried that it was too late, because… Draco’s… well…” His face was turning red.

“Well, what?”

“Well, did he tell you why he was assigned to be Ginny’s body guard?”

“As punishment. He fucked up on assignment.”

“Umm, yeah. Umm… He… we were partners.”

“Okay…” Ron wasn’t quite getting it.

“We were supposed to be catching a Death Eater who we’d gotten word was going to attempt an assassination on Dumbledore. We were waiting outside to ambush him, in the bushes…”

“Right.” Ron was frowning.

“And, umm, the reason he—we fucked up… He umm… we were sort of too busy and forgot to watch for him.”

“Busy. Right. I see.” Ron didn’t.

“Dumbledore was alright, of course. But our superior was sorta pissed off when he found out what we’d been doing.”

“And that was?”

“Draco was… he was… we were…” He cleared his throat and trailed off and then said quickly, “Which is why I’m glad you and aren’t together like that, because I didn’t want him to hurt you and… so… you’re not, right? You swear?”

Feeling rather like he’d just suddenly realized he was caught in a violent thunderstorm and everything was swirling around him, Ron said faintly, “Oh. Oh. I see. Of course we’re not. I wouldn’t… wouldn’t let Malfoy touch me for all the world.”

It was the last thing he got to say before the anti-cheating whacking spell slammed into the side of his head and sent him flying from his chair.