Unbecoming

Chapter Nine

Ron’s eyes were swollen and stinging, and he was glaring into his hot cocoa. The sun was setting and Draco hadn’t said a single word to him since Ron had come inside, at Ginny’s prompting. He would talk to her, but only in monosyllables and grunts, and Ron was getting quite pissed off. As for Ginny, she was dividing her time casting equally furious glares at the both of them. And then she smiled, sharply.

“Ron, darling, just for the record? You and Malfoy got popcorn all over the couch, so I refuse to sleep there. Therefore I am taking your bed. You can decide for yourself where you’re going to sleep.” With a pointed glance at both of them, she stalked off to Ron’s bedroom.

Slamming his mug of cocoa down, Ron stalked to the linen closet and pulled out some pillows and blankets, beginning to make a bed on the floor.

Draco watched for a moment, and then snorted, setting his mug aside and taking Ron by the hand.

“What?” Ron snapped.

“Just shut up,” Draco said quietly. “C’mon. Bring the blankets.”

“Where?”

“You’re sleeping in my room.”

“Where are you sleeping, then?”

“With you,” Draco told him, looking almost defiant.

Ron considered this for a moment. “Well,” he said finally, sounding doubtful. “As long as you don’t, you know…”

“Cop a feel and try to shag you?”

“I was going to say steal the covers.”

“Well,” Draco said, smiling just a little. “That’s why you’ve got to bring the blankets. It’s bloody freezing in there in the morning.”

Ron didn’t speak as Draco tugged him into the other small bedroom, tossing the pile of blankets onto the small bed. “Why are you doing this?” Ron asked, as Draco pulled his shirt up over his head.

“Because I don’t think your sister will be pleased if she wakes up tomorrow and finds you on the floor.” He smiled a bit and dropped his shirt to the floor.

Ron watched him quietly, wondering if this was all some elaborate way of Draco’s to do something he really wanted without taking responsibility for wanting it. The way he’d stayed because he wanted to, but only by making it seem to be against his will. And now he was going to love Ron, but only if he was sure everyone would know it was because Ginny was forcing him. And suddenly that was better than sitting around glaring at each other, and somehow more honest besides.

“Alright,” Ron said, and Draco relaxed. Ron hadn’t even noticed he had tensed up, but he had.

The bed was small and they were forced to snuggle together, though Ron didn’t mind. Draco was warm, and there was a pile of blankets to ward off the cold, and the only sound was their mingling breathing. Draco’s arms were wrapped around Ron’s shoulders, Ron’s around his waist, and Ron’s eyes fluttered sleepily shut.

***

Ron woke up slowly, his sleepy mind not questioning the warmth of Draco beside him, or anything else. He smiled slightly, eyelids fluttering, and murmuring in the back of his throat, snuggling closer and nuzzling his face into the side of Draco’s neck.

“Are you awake?” Draco whispered, not sounding sleepy at all. He’d obviously been waiting a long time for Ron to wake up. “Ron? Shit.”

Moaning, Ron shook his head in protest. “Sleeping,” he lied, sighing.

There was silence for a long moment, during which Ron could have drifted off to sleep again. He had no concept of time, didn’t know how long passed, until Draco kissed him lightly, on his temple, and asked softly, “If I died, would you be alright?”

Ron stiffened and his eyes opened, blinking and then squinting shut again. He pulled away slowly, tilting his head up to look at Draco, who watched him with dark, unreadable eyes. “No,” he said honestly.

Draco blinked, and Ron finally understood the emotion there. Draco looked thoroughly confused. “Why?”

“Why?” Ron echoed blankly. “You’d be dead.”

“Yeah, but so? You’d get over it. You’d…” he waved a hand airily. “You know. Adjust. Move on. I mean, sure, maybe you’d be a little… sad…” he glanced at Ron questioningly, as if he wasn’t even sure of that, and Ron nodded encouragingly, if only to find out where Draco was going with all of this. “A little sad. But you’d get over it. Wouldn’t you?”

“No.”

Draco scowled and started pulling away, but Ron shook his head wordlessly and wouldn’t let him go. Laying his head back on Draco’s shoulder, Ron frowned. “I don’t understand,” he said slowly. “You look angry that I wouldn’t be alright if you died.”

“I just don’t fucking get it!” Draco snapped. “Why would you let someone’s death matter to you so much that you’d never get over it? I don’t understand why anyone would willingly trust someone that much, trust that they aren’t going to just… die or leave or… or something.”

“Oh.” Ron considered this for a moment, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully. “Would you… I mean, if I died —” He broke off abruptly, unsure if he wanted to know the answer to that.

“You’re not going to die,” Draco hissed, and Ron decided, with a small smile, that maybe that was answer enough.

“Okay,” he said.

“It’s just…” Draco said after a moment, returning to their conversation. “I don’t want to die if you’re not going to be alright.”

Ron sat up and looked at him, frowning. “Then if I was gonna be alright, you’d want to die?” he asked.

“Of course not.”

“You’re confusing me.”

“You think you’re confused?” Draco snarled, looking almost pouty.

Ron smiled then, snuggling close again. So that was it, then. This had nothing to do with Draco wanting to die. Ron thought back to before, when he’d been so confused and terrified of his sexuality and everything, and how Draco hadn’t understood that, but had somehow shown him that being with another guy wasn’t such a scary thing. That Draco was perfectly fine being with other guys and lacked the courage to love them came as somewhat of a surprise, but, after Ron thought about it for a bit, it did make sense. He seriously doubted that love existed in an excessive quantity in Malfoy Manor.

They lay together in silence for a while, and Ron decided, closing his eyes and listening to Draco’s breathing, that it was the happiest he’d ever been. If he forgot his worries about where it was going or how it had come to be, what his mother would say if she knew, how his brothers would react if they knew, when the next time either he or Draco would freak out and start a fight or runaway again, and it was just him and Draco lying together in silence, then he was happy.

Ron was a romantic by nature, and this was romantic. Sort of. Vaguely. Okay, Draco was probably lying there thinking panicky thoughts about how best to get out of this situation without getting hurt, which made it slightly less romantic, and more precarious and potentially painful. But if he ignored all that…

But now that he’d thought it, he couldn’t ignore it. He began focusing too much on those thoughts, listening carefully to Draco’s breathing for signs of what he was thinking, feeling, if he was about to move and bolt. It became steadily less romantic, and finally, he sat up with a scowl.

“Will you stop it?” he snapped.

Draco blinked. “I wasn’t moving.”

“Stop thinking like that!”

“Like what? I wasn’t thinking! Well, certainly not out loud!” Draco scowled. “Honestly, I didn’t know you were a mind reader, what’s your problem?”

Ron closed his eyes, sighing. “Shit. Sorry. Never mind. I was just… worried. What were you thinking about?”

“Not you. Not everything’s about you.”

Ron winced, and Draco growled in irritation. “I’m sorry,” Ron began.

“No, I didn’t mean it that way,” Draco interrupted. “I just meant… I was thinking. About other things. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to think about me all the time,” Ron said honestly. “Forget it.”

Draco looked away, frowning, and Ron shifted awkwardly. He wondered if this was a relationship, he’d never had one before. He also wondered if all relationships were this awkward.

“I’m gonna go shower,” Draco said, after the silence grew stilted and tense. He left, and Ron dressed slowly before wandering out to the kitchen.

Ginny was sitting there. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “So?” she asked bluntly. “Did you guys… you know.”

Ron winced. “Ginny, despite your obvious interests in my sex life, I prefer not to announce these things to the general public.”

“Ah ha, I shall take that as a no then, because a guy who’s just been shagged is rarely this bitchy in the morning. What did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything. I… I told him I loved him. Yesterday.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you?”

“What?”

“Love him.”

“I don’t know, I must, mustn’t I? Or I wouldn’t have accidentally said it. But how am I supposed to know?” He sat heavily in the chair across from her and scowled.

Ginny considered this for a long moment, and then said thoughtfully, “Did he say it back?”

“What do you think?”

“Judging that there was no ‘hurray we’re in love’ sex, would that be no?”

“You think about sex far too often, Ginny.”

“It’s the curse of those who don’t get any,” she said cheerfully. “We’re forced to think about it all day, every day, until the blessed day when —”

“Spare me the sodding details.”

She laughed, and Ron felt moderately more cheerful. Still, he sighed. “It’s difficult. I don’t know where I stand, everything’s messed up. A week ago, I would have sworn I was done with him and anything as remotely complicated as this.”

“A week ago, you hadn’t seen him in a year. And besides, maybe you weren’t ready for this a year ago, Ron. I mean, no offence, but you weren’t in the best frame of mind then. But you’ve changed this last year. Grown.” She smiled, a little bitterly. “Too bad I was off hiding and didn’t get to grow with you, huh? But anyway. Maybe a year ago, this wouldn’t have worked. But I think it can now, at least from your end. Malfoy’s changed too, I’m just not sure if it’s for the better. He’s different… darker. This thing with his father, he never mentions it, but it’s always there, I can see it. He never takes his eyes off you, he’s always got to watch you.”

Ron remembered the first few nights, when Draco had woken and panicked, not knowing if Ron was safe, and had come looking for him. “I know,” he whispered. “But he’s getting better, isn’t he? He hasn’t talked about it…”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s getting over it. He is Draco Malfoy, remember?”

Ron was chewing his lower lip worriedly, thinking back on the last few days, trying to remember if Draco had given any sign as to his mental state. If he was alright. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I don’t know if he’s alright. How can I love him if I don’t even know if he’s alright? Fuck, I can’t… I didn’t even think, I mean, if it was me, he’d know I wasn’t alright, and he doesn’t even love me! I completely suck at this!” He was growing more and more stricken with each passing second.

“Ron. Ron. Calm down. Breathe. It’s alright, he’s Draco Malfoy, not the easiest guy in the world to read and certainly not all that forthcoming with his feelings. It isn’t your fault.”

“I don’t think, if I had a choice, I’d have fallen for someone so complicated,” Ron said desperately.

She rolled her eyes. “No one gets a choice. That’s what makes it fun. It’s like Russian Roulette.” She smiled brightly.

Ron’s eyes widened and he felt even more terrified then before.

***

When Draco came out of the shower, Ron was perched nervously on the bed, a pillow on his lap. He was fiddling with the pillowcase and his face was pale, freckles standing out like spots of blood.

Draco paused in the doorway and Ron gathered his courage and lifted his eyes up passed Draco’s towel-clad body, to his face. “Hello,” he said politely. “How are you?”

Blinking, Draco frowned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, kicking the door shut.

“I was just wondering how you were,” Ron said evasively.

“Yeah, but why?”

“You certainly are prickly after you shower,” Ron commented, watching Draco move to the bag he’d left on the floor with their clothes in it.

“You’re making me nervous.”

Ron sighed. “I was worried.”

Now Draco abandoned his fruitless quest for clean clothes and joined him on the bed, frowning and studying Ron’s face. “About what?”

“You.”

A small smile tilted the corners of Draco’s mouth. “Oh.”

“It’s just… you haven’t really talked about what happened. With your father. Or anything, really. And I was worried.”

Now Draco looked cold, and turned away. “Nothing to talk about,” he said, very casually.

“There’s plenty to talk about!” Ron cried. “We haven’t actually talked since, well, ever! Not in the ‘I want to get to know you’ sort of way! Only in the ‘hey hey you’re hot let’s shag’ sense, and… and… That’s not enough.”

Draco was smiling again, coldly. “Not enough? I don’t recall offering any more,” he said.

“It’s not…” He trailed off, swallowing and gathering up his courage. “It’s not always about you, Draco.”

Staring at him, completely bewildered, Draco said, “Since when? I mean, it’s… Since when?”

His temper snapped and Ron threw the pillow at Draco, shouting, “Since I bloody well decided that I’m worth more than being someone’s fuck buddy! Since I realized that I want more than that and that what I want matters, at least to me! And if it doesn’t matter to you, than I made a huge fucking mistake but it’s not like I chose any of this, because I swear, if I had a choice, I never would have fallen for a dimwitted fuckwad like you who can’t feel anything! Do you know how fucking frustrating it is when —”

He broke off abruptly because Draco, who had been staring numbly at Ron the whole time he shouted, had suddenly slid closer and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He jerked him forward and kissed him hard, sloppily and messily and Ron would have pushed him away and kept shouting, except Draco tasted so good and he’d wanted to kiss him so badly, and he was only wearing a towel. Besides, Draco’s hands were shaking and it was rather endearing, really.

So Ron let his anger melt faster than sugar in a cup of tea, and he mumbled contentedly as he fell against Draco and his eyes slid shut and his mouth open to let Draco’s tongue inside.

And then Draco broke the kiss and let out a shaky breath. “Fuck you’re gorgeous when you’re angry,” he said huskily.

Ron blinked and smiled, flushing a little. “Gorgeous?” he echoed. No one had called him gorgeous before.

“Mmm.”

“Thank you.” He kissed Draco lightly on the lips and then picked up the pillow and began beating Draco upside the head with it. “But you didn’t let me finish,” he growled.

Draco laughed and Ron growled again, smacking him with the pillow. His heart wasn’t in it, however, and he had forgotten what he’d been berating Draco about. This just served to frustrate him even more, and he beat him even harder with the pillow. Draco just laughed and laughed.

When Draco fell backwards, he grabbed Ron’s shirt again and pulled him, so Ron landed sprawled on top of him. “Shut up, Weasley,” he purred. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Oooh,” Ron hissed, though the pillow fell from suddenly weak fingers and he made no move to get away. In fact, his breathing was fast and sporadic now, from more than fury, and his fingers trembling, smoothing over Draco’s naked chest. How Draco managed to retain his towel even after being beaten with a pillow completely amazed him. The fight went out of him with a shaky breath, and he lowered his head to Draco’s shoulder and sighed.

“You give up too easily,” Draco said after a moment, and Ron wondered if he was referring to Ron’s goal of pummeling him with a pillow, or convincing him to love him. Ron lifted his head and glanced down at Draco’s teasing grin.

“And you’re a fuckwad, like I said,” Ron informed him, feeling suddenly rather wistful. He blinked because his eyes were stinging, and that was rather embarrassing.

“And you fight like a girl,” Draco commented, reaching up and smoothing Ron’s hair.

“And you look like one.”

Draco’s eyes widened and he growled. “You are such a prat!” And then, before Ron could brace himself, Draco was up and clutching the pillow, smacking him with it, hard. He was grumbling under his breath as he beat Ron with the pillow, and Ron was so stunned that it took a long moment before he yelped and dove for the other pillow in a mad attempt to defend himself.

“Hey!” he cried, holding his pillow up in defense. “It’s not like I said you were ugly! It’s not my fault you’re incredibly pretty and—ouch!”

Draco laughed triumphantly and grabbed Ron’s ankle, tugging hard and pulling Ron across the bed, smacking him soundly about the head. The towel was slipping precariously and Ron howled a warning that was as coherent as it was heart-felt. “At least I don’t act like a girl, Weasley. Shit, you’re such a girl that —”

Whatever else he said was lost, because Ron chose that moment to whack him in the face with the pillow and the towel was lost, slipping down Draco’s hips and pooling around his legs. While Draco was distracted, trying to snatch his towel back up, Ron tried to squirm away. He was crawling across the bed when Draco cursed under his breath and tackled him from behind, pinning him facedown.

Ron spent a precious second trying to tentatively feel if Draco had brought the towel with him or left it behind. He couldn’t tell.

“Ow, ow, seriously, ow,” Ron moaned, stunned by the weight suddenly pressing down on him.

“What?” Draco asked breathlessly, right beside Ron’s ear. He didn’t even bother to get off.

“You’re… on me.”

Draco wiggled a little. “Trust me, I’m well aware.” And then he bit the back of Ron’s neck.

Desperately trying to crawl out from under him, Ron panted wildly. “Can’t… breathe,” he said, and then yelped when Draco’s hands slipped under his shirt and lightly stroked his back. “Draco,” he moaned plaintively.

“Mmm?” Draco mumbled, distracted.

“This is pretty mortifying.”

“Why?”

“I’m… You’re on me!”

“I had noticed.” He licked the place where Ron’s shoulder met his neck and laughed breathily. “Relax, Weasley.”

“Mmm,” Ron whimpered, wiggling frantically as he tried to squirm away.

“Don’t you want me?” Draco asked, his tone playful and pouty.

“I’m angry with you,” Ron reminded him. “Ooh, stop it. Damn it, Malfoy.”

“I’m trying to make it up to you,” Draco told him, pushing his shirt up a bit and sliding lower, lightly biting the skin just above the waist of Ron’s trousers.

Panicking now, Ron rolled, hoping to stop things before they went too far. Rolling was the worst possible thing he could have done, however, because now Draco was sprawled over his legs, with his head just inches away from evidence that Ron wasn’t quite so angry as he would have liked to appear. In fact, judging from the slow and triumphant grin spreading across Draco’s lips and the mischievous glimmer in his eyes, Draco was very much aware of Ron’s growing discomfort.

“Please?” Ron whimpered.

“Please what?” Draco asked, his hands creeping up Ron’s thighs. The towel was forgotten and crumpled on the floor.

“Fuck,” Ron sighed, more in protest than in answer to Draco’s question, but with an incredibly wolfish grin, Draco took it in the most sexual way possible.

“Don’t be angry at me anymore,” Draco said coaxingly, sliding up and kissing Ron on the lips lightly.

“But…”

“Aww, Ron,” Draco murmured as sweetly as he could manage, licking Ron’s throat. “Don’t you love me?”

“Ooh,” Ron hissed, eyes flying open. “That isn’t fair, Draco Malfoy, you can’t use that against me, I won’t —”

“You won’t?” Draco repeated, grinning wickedly and shifting his hips subtly against Ron’s and laughing when Ron cursed under his breath.

He closed his eyes and stopped trying to pretend he didn’t want this, because he didn’t think anyone in the world could say no when they had a naked Draco Malfoy on top of them intent upon seducing them and, god, he’d been craving this for over a year.

If Draco was surprised when Ron suddenly growled under his breath and flipped him, so that he was pinned to the bed and Ron was on top of him, he gracefully didn’t show it. And then Ron was kissing him wildly and feverishly, whimpering low in his throat, trembling with all his pent up frustration and loneliness, as if he could split Draco open with his lips and pour all of his hurt inside of him. He couldn’t, but he tried, tracing Draco’s lips and teeth and tongue with his own, breathing heavily through his nose and trying desperately not to cry, because that would make this somehow something that it wasn’t meant to be. He did not want comfort, he wanted some measure of what he’d been missing for more than a year. Some of the desperate fire that Draco had shown him before he’d left, the sort of storm that Draco had pulled him into and held him all through, because no one had ever held Ron before, and he’d felt lonely his whole life until then.

Draco’s eyes were hazy and dark when Ron finally broke the kiss, and he smiled up at him, a soothing sort of smile that Ron felt himself fall a little more in love with.

“You’re shaking,” Draco told him, as if Ron were not already very much aware.

“You lost your towel,” Ron pointed out, just in case Draco hadn’t noticed.

“I know,” Draco smirked.

"Why... why are you always in a towel when we do this?"

"Because I'm impossible to resist while only wearing a towel," Draco pointed out.

“I’m not angry anymore,” Ron said.

“I know,” Draco repeated.

“I want to fuck you,” Ron declared.

Draco blinked and then smiled and said “Okay.”

“I really do,” Ron said earnestly, as if afraid Draco wouldn’t believe him.

“Is this your best attempt at seduction?” Draco snickered.

“With all due respect, Draco, you’re the one without any clothes on, so I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job of shagging you.”

“Shagging involves more than nudity, and I was only wearing a towel when you started.”

Lifting his eyebrows with pretended nonchalance, Ron sat up, reluctantly moving away. “Well, if that’s how you want to be about it, I must say I’ve changed my mind. Maybe I’ll owl Harry and he’d be up for a go and —”

That’s as far as he got, because, as he had spoken, Ron had so very casually made his way to the door, and just as his hand closed about the doorknob, Draco was up and off the bed, grabbing him by the back of the shirt. He jerked him around roughly and slammed him against the door, pinning him there, and smiling slowly. “You fucking prat,” he said conversationally, before kissing him hard.

Ron didn’t mind. He grinned triumphantly and let Draco force his mouth open, pressing his tongue inside. It was hotter than even before, and as wild as he’d craved the entire year that had passed, and worth nearly every morning he’d woken up hard after dreaming of just this.

A year of cold showers—no, a lifetime of cold showers, and suddenly Ron felt it was worth every minute of it, for this hot and feverish kiss. Draco was tearing at his clothing, pressing hard kisses to his lips, cheeks, and throat, growling curse words under his breath as he fumbled with Ron’s shirt. It got tangled in Ron’s arms and he swore himself as he fought to free himself from the heavy jumper as Draco gave up and left it halfway off his arms and still wrapped around his head, blinding him. He yelped when Draco licked his nipple, grazing it with his teeth, and fought even harder to get his sodding jumper off. Draco didn’t care that he was struggling, was completely caught up in biting and sucking small patterns of bruises on Ron’s chest.

Finally tearing free of the jumper, Ron growled and tangled his hands in Draco’s hair, jerking him up and kissing him, forcing his lips open. Ron’s tongue was in Draco’s mouth and Draco was biting it, sucking on it, stroking it with his own, and Ron was concentrating so hard on not melting to the floor in a ball of raging hormones (he was clinging tightly to Draco’s bare shoulders and his knees were extremely close to giving out), that Ron didn’t even notice when Draco somehow managed to undo his trousers and shove them down. He even stepped out of them and kicked them aside helpfully, and he was so caught up in the kiss that he didn’t notice.

It was easy not to pay attention after that, not to notice every kiss or touch or taste, because it was all so fast and out of control, that Ron could not focus on any individual thing. He was too lost in everything, and they fell back together onto the bed, aching and desperate, having craved this, missed this, for over a year.

It was different though, than the first time, because Ron wasn't frightened of it. He wanted it, wanted Draco, wanted to be inside Draco, though he did not know how.

Whispering gently, Draco talked him through it, guiding his hands and his body, kissing him when panic threatened and Ron nearly forgot how to breathe.

It was strange to have Draco beneath him, to be inside him, even while Draco held him and kept telling him that it was okay. It wasn't okay, it was something more, Ron couldn't have described it if he wanted to. It seemed to last forever, was over too soon, and melted into a feverish mess of sweat, breathless whispers, and a white hot sort of desire he had never experienced before.

Afterwards, weak, trembling, and rather self-conscious, Ron buried his face in Draco's shoulder and took a deep, shaky breath.

Chuckling softly, Draco tightened his arms around Ron and it took him a long moment to realize that Draco was hugging him. And when Draco kissed the top of his head, Ron decided he’d died of lung failure from breathing too heavily while shagging him, and this was heaven.

Ron shivered a little when a sudden draft trickled into the room, even though he was still sticky with sweat. Draco grumbled a little and pulled the blanket over them both, rolling so that he was on his side, facing Ron. Smiling sleepily, Ron rolled his eyes.

“Tired,” he mumbled, and Draco smoothed his sticky hair off his forehead and laughed softly.

“Need to work on that endurance of yours, love,” he teased.

“Shuddup,” Ron sighed contentedly, snuggling close. “Love you,” he whispered, and then he fell asleep.

***

Draco wasn’t there when Ron woke up, and for one long, tense moment, he thought he was going to be sick.

“No, no,” he whimpered, sitting up gingerly, because his body ached. The room was empty and he flinched.

Crawling off the bed carefully, Ron got dressed as quickly as he could; he was trembling by the time he finished and he opened the door slowly and peered out, terrified that Draco wouldn’t be there.

He wasn’t. Swallowing the urge to cry, he quietly made his way towards the kitchen. In the doorway, he nearly collapsed from relief, because Draco was there making pancakes with Ginny.

“I…” Ron started to stay, leaning heavily on the doorframe. “Hi.”

Draco looked up and almost beamed, his smile was so bright. “Hi,” he said.

Ron could have stared at him for hours, except Ginny hip-checked Draco and said sweetly, “Pancakes are burning, dear.” Then she grinned at Ron. “We’re making breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Ron echoed, blinking. He ran a hand through his messy hair. “It’s morning?”

“Mmm,” she said nonchalantly. “And has been for hours. Go shower, you’re a mess.”

Ron had just turned to obey, when Draco grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him close, placing a hot kiss on his mouth that stunned him even more than waking up and finding that Draco hadn’t disappeared in the middle of the night this time had.

Ginny was snickering in a knowing sort of way and Ron fled before she could start harping on about sex again.

He took a long, hot shower, the hot water gently working the knots out of his muscles and relaxing him, soothing his aching body. The bathroom was steamy when he got out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He stared at his distorted reflection for a long moment before rubbing off a lopsided oval with his fist and sticking his tongue out at himself. Then he grinned goofily and the grin slowly faded when he realized it was the first unrestrained, purely ecstatic smile he’d let himself smile in nearly three years.

But that was alright. At least he was smiling now.

Biting his lower lip thoughtfully, he left the bathroom, running his fingers through his wet hair. He could hear Ginny laughing and Draco saying something indistinct, and Ron paused, grinning again. He could get used to this so fast, this walking into a room to be greeted with laughter rather than silence and emptiness.

He returned to his room using his wand to dry his hair and making the bed, before returning to the kitchen. Ginny was scolding Draco for having let some of the pancakes burn and neither of them noticed Ron watching for a long moment.

When Ginny finally saw him there, she looked relieved. “Ron, good, come make the pancakes, Draco sucks.” She tugged him into the kitchen and pressed an egg-flipper into his hand, leaving him beside Draco at the wood stove and going back to mixing more pancakes.

“Burnt them, huh?” Ron whispered teasingly, not wanting to attract Ginny’s attention. She was a tyrant in the kitchen.

“Shut up,” Draco hissed back, elbowing him in the side. He shot him a glare and Ron grinned back.

“You do suck,” Ron said a moment later.

“Yeah and you like it,” Draco snapped. They glanced at each other, both talking softly so as to avoid a scolding from Ginny, both holding egg flippers like weapons, and, at the same time, they both giggled.

“Hey,” Ginny snapped. “More attention on the pancakes, less on each other.” She was beaming though, and Ron turned away quickly, flushing and wondering just how much she knew.

They finished the pancakes and ate the ones that hadn’t burnt too badly, and after they had finished, Ginny cast some cleaning charms her mother had taught her and they played cards together in the living room, without the benefit of an Anti-cheating Whacking Charm.

Draco went to shower after a few games, and Ron sighed and made himself comfortable, sure that Ginny had been just waiting for this moment to talk to him about her favourite topic, sex. When Draco ran his fingers absently through Ron’s hair on his way to the bathroom, Ron smiled at him and then flushed, glancing nervously at Ginny, who watched it all with narrowed eyes.

When Draco was gone, she tossed her cards aside and cocked her head, waiting for Ron to say something. He didn’t know what to say, and finally, she sighed and broke the silence.

“He loves you so much,” she said.

Ron blinked. “No,” he said.

“Oh, come on, Ron!” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s so obvious. I mean, don’t even try to tell me the two of you didn’t shag last night, the walls of this cottage aren’t that thick, you know.”

He winced. “I didn’t think… Sorry…” he mumbled, face turning even redder.

“Oh, forget it,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, it’s not like I stuck around and listened. There’s a reason I’ve been exhausted all day.”

Now that she mentioned it, she did look as though she hadn’t slept a bit the night before. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Ron had been so distracted by Draco that he hadn’t noticed.

“Oh, god, Gin! I’m so sorry, I never even thought!” Ron cried.

She laughed. “I said forget it. But you guys did have sex.”

He considered denying it, but it seemed pretty pointless now. Sheepishly, he nodded.

“And neither of you are freaking out about it today,” she pointed out. “I’m rather proud of you, really, Ron. I would have thought you’d be completely panicking today. And at least, this time, Malfoy stuck around… I mean, that’s gotta count for something, doesn’t it?” She was rambling now, thinking out loud, and Ron knew she didn’t expect an answer. “What makes you think he doesn’t love you?”

“Oh, he told me,” Ron said, startled that she was suddenly including him in the discussion. “He doesn’t know how. To love, I mean. And doesn’t want to learn.”

She snorted. “Typical man. He lied.”

Ron felt a fuzzy flush at that, and tried desperately not to beam like a sod. “Really? How can you tell?”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Really, I don’t know how —”

She broke off abruptly because Draco was standing in the doorway, looking horrified. “What is this?” he asked, eyes wide. He was holding a large paddle-like thing that was constructed of wood and mesh.

Ron blinked and snickered a little. “It’s a snowshoe,” he said. “Muggles invented them to walk on snow, my dad used to collect them before he moved on to batteries and plugs.”

“Walk on snow?” Draco repeated skeptically. “But they’re full of holes. I can’t see how that would work.” He was turning the paddle over doubtfully.

Ron got up and took the shoe from him trying to explain the physics to him as best as he could (which wasn’t all that well). “Fuck it,” he said finally, exasperated. “They work. I’ll show you, get your cloak. I’ll go get the other shoe. Do you want to come with us, Gin?”

She was laughing hard, the sight of Ron trying to explain snowshoes to Draco too much for her, and she shook her head, still giggling. “No, no, you guys go, as soon as you’re out of here, I can get some sleep.”

Fetching three more snowshoes, Ron returned to the living room to find that Ginny had left to get some sleep and Draco was waiting with his cloak, still looking doubtful.

“Sit down, I’ll put them on for you,” Ron directed, and Draco obeyed wordlessly, smirking a little when Ron knelt at his feet and began lacing the awkward shoe onto his foot.

They clomped gracelessly out of the cottage, Draco growling in frustration and Ron laughing softly. They had to hold on to each other to keep from falling, all of their balance thrown off by the shoes, not to mention that they kept stepping on top of their own shoes and nearly falling.

Ron hopped into the snow and then turned to help Draco, taking his hand to help him keep his balance. “C’mon,” he said, grinning. “Just jump off the stairs, you won’t sink into the snow, that’s the whole point.”

“This is an incredibly bad idea,” Draco told him. “I don’t do the outdoors in winter. Too cold. Snow is an abomination.”

“You’re not frightened, are you?” Ron asked silkily.

Draco glared and jumped, nearly knocking Ron over. After they’d caught their balance and, still holding each other’s hands, they made slow and awkward progress over the snowy ground. Ron had a very basic knowledge of how to walk in snowshoes, having spent a few winters as a child trying to master them with his father, so he managed it much better than Draco, who kept getting the backs of his shoes tangled together.

They were tromping through the snow just out of sight of the cottage, when Draco glanced up from his shoes and caught Ron watching him from a short distance away. He grinned. “You can tell by these shoes how much more evolved we are than Muggles,” he said. “We invented flying broomsticks.”

“And they invented airplanes. Hurry up, I’m freezing waiting for you.”

Scowling in a good-natured fashion, Draco tried to hurry up, and ended up stumbling wildly and slamming into Ron, knocking him to the snow and landing on top of him.

“Ugh,” Draco moaned a moment later, disoriented. “Give me a fucking broomstick over this any day.”

Ron smiled, even as dazed as he was to suddenly find himself sprawled on the ground with Draco on top of him. “This isn’t so bad,” he said quietly.

“Mmm,” Draco said agreeably. Their snowshoes were tangled together, however, and Ron had no idea how they were going to manage to get untangled and back on their feet.

He made a few halfhearted attempts to jerk his shoes free, and then gave up. Draco wasn’t helping, seemed content just to lie on top of him and enjoy his wiggling. Exasperated, Ron said, “You’re not helping.”

“No, I’m not,” Draco said with a warm smile. “Good of you to notice.”

Rolling his eyes and shoving at Draco weakly, Ron scoffed. “We’ll be stuck here forever if you don’t get off me.”

Sighing, Draco gave in, and a few moments of struggle, they were free of each other and sitting alongside one another, breathing heavily. Their breath misted in the air.

“Draco?” Ron asked, after a moment, looking thoughtful.

“Mmm?”

“Will you talk to me now?”

“What? About what?”

“Yesterday, I tried talking to you. About everything. And you deliberately distracted me by seducing me.”

“Hey!” Draco cried. “If I recall correctly, Weasley, you seduced me.”

Shrugging and flushing a little, Ron said, “Be that as it may… I just wanted to talk. Will you talk to me? I’m… worried.”

“Everything’s fine, Weasley.” Draco looked properly solemn now, trying to be reassuring.

“Well, last year, you didn’t tell me anything. You made all these elaborate plans and then slipped me a potion and left, so… I think it’s understandable if I’m worried you’re about to do it again.”

“Last year was different. I had no choice.”

“You had plenty of choice!” Ron ran a hand through his hair, trying not to lose his temper. He took a careful breath. “I just… I want to know what’s going on. All of it. What happened with your father and Sean, why the Death Eaters are after you…. Why you betrayed your father and went to work for the Ministry…”

Draco looked at him, face devoid of any hint of his thoughts, and Ron felt sure he was about to be shot down again. He sighed and turned away.

“You want me to start at the beginning?” Draco asked finally.

Ron looked at him, eyes wide. Then he nodded wordlessly.

“I went to work at the Ministry as a spy. For my father. They’ve got lots of spies there, just because Harry killed Voldemort, that doesn’t mean that the Death Eaters have quit trying to… well…”

“Eat death?”

Draco stared at him blankly.

Clearing his throat, Ron motioned for Draco to continue.

“Right. Well.” Draco was still looking at Ron as if he didn’t quite understand him, and Ron squirmed, flushing. It had been a stupid thing to say… “Anyway. I was a spy. Feeding information to my father. Wasn’t very good at it.” He shrugged. “Not many people were willing to trust Lucius Malfoy’s son. Anyway.”

“Why did you stop?” Ron asked softly.

“I, err, think I…” Draco glanced away, clearing his throat.

Ron frowned. He lurched to his feet and grabbed Draco’s hand, tugging him up as well. “You what?”

“Thought I was in love.”

The ground seemed to shift a little beneath Ron’s feet and he staggered a bit, stunned. Draco watched him wordlessly, and after Ron managed to catch his balance, he whispered, “You don’t believe in love.”

“Well, I don’t now.” Draco scowled and took a hesitant step in his snowshoes, stumbling. Ron caught his arm and held him up.

“What happened?” he asked a moment later.

Draco grimaced and considered for a moment before saying, “Well… It was a stupid thing to do, really… Accidents happen, right?” He laughed a little bitterly. “Next thing I know, I’m completely obsessed — okay, I had been obsessed for a while, but it twisted and became something else, and my father… he noticed. He thought it was a game, but it wasn’t, not for me, at least. When he figured it out, that I’d fallen in love, he was furious. Threatened to disinherit me, claimed it ‘interfered with the mission’. Which it did. Because I stopped wanting to go through with the mission. I was dizzy with fucking naïve ideas of… of soul mates and fate and… and… It was messy. Disgusting, really.” He cleared his throat, flushing a little, and Ron clutched his arm, eyes wide. “My father wanted me to use it to our advantage but I couldn’t, so I quit. I didn’t do it because I didn’t want to bring my father down. I did it because I couldn’t… I just couldn’t. I was dizzy and blind and fucking stupid. Anyway…”

“Did you tell him?” Ron asked abruptly.

“Tell him?”

“Tell Harry. That you loved him. Because he’s under the impression that you mess with people’s heads for fun.”

Draco was staring at him now, and he said softly, “How did you know? I wasn’t going to tell you it was him.”

Snorting, Ron said, “How dense do you think I am?”

“Well. Yes, I told him. Eventually. It was too late, though. It was after… everything had fallen apart. He didn’t…” Draco considered carefully, and Ron wondered if he was searching for the best words to incriminate himself the least. Or to embarrass himself less. He let out a careful breath. “He fucked me a thousand times and didn’t mind kissing me and all that, but I guess he couldn’t love me. I mean, really, why would he? He’s… The-Boy-Who-Lived. If anything, I guess it was… all the hate… he never did know how to handle his hate. So he expressed it that way, I guess. By… screaming at me and trying to hurt me and when that didn’t work, he… fucked me.” Draco laughed, but it sounded sharp. “It didn’t matter. I didn’t tell him I thought I loved him until he told me he didn’t want me anymore. It was… I was… Oh fuck, Ron, it was the saddest fucking thing. I fucking begged…” He ran a hand through his hair and snorted in disgust. “Fuck. Anyway… We still had to work together. That’s how we got together in the first place. They assigned me to be his partner… I guess, so he could keep an eye on me. No one trusted me. We worked together. We fucked around a few times after that…” He swallowed hard and turned away, scoffing softly in disgust. “I couldn’t go crawling back to my father and I’d been disowned, so… the Ministry was paying me to be a spy, even though they suspected that’s what I was… I actually tried going back to my father.” He laughed again. “But the Ministry fed me false information and a bunch of my father’s men were captured. He blamed me. Said I was a double agent.”

Ron let go of Draco’s arm carefully and turned away, thinking hard, trying to process it all. “You fucked around with him and got in trouble so were assigned to be Ginny’s bodyguard. You figured out about the journal linking her to Voldemort and the ritual they planned to do to raise him with it. You got the journal, gave it to the Ministry, and disappeared for over a year, but they found you. Your father killed Sean and then you killed him and came here.”

“Yes.”

“And you loved Harry.”

“Yes.”

Ron frowned. “And he… didn’t love you.”

“He loved you,” Draco said very quietly.

Flinching, Ron shook his head. “That’s funny,” Ron said, laughing, though it sounded more like a sob.

“What is?”

“That you loved him and begged him to love you and I’d do anything for you to love me but you’re too busy loving him to even fucking care.” And then he was trying to run away, because he was about to cry and that was mortifying, but the fucking snowshoes got tangled together only three steps away and he fell forward into the snow and lay there, sobbing.

It took Draco a few seconds to get to his side, cursing foully and twisting sharply to snap the laces of the snowshoes. He fell to his knees beside Ron, and touched his back, saying in a low voice that trembled with fury, “I don’t love him. I don’t fucking love him. Love is an embarrassment. It’s degrading and disgusting and wrong and I don’t love anyone, I don’t fucking love anyone.”

Ron lifted himself out of the snow, still hiccupping and crying, and stared at Draco blankly for a long moment. And then he crawled onto his lap and curled up against him and sniffled. “You’re wrong,” he said.

Breathing heavily, Draco closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Ron, supporting him while he cried. “You’re going to freeze,” he said, trying to dry Ron’s tears as quickly as they were falling. “You cry an awful lot for a boy.”

He was teasing him quietly now, and Ron smiled weakly at him. “But you don’t love Harry?”

“I don’t. Maybe I never did. I told you. I don’t believe —”

Ron kissed his lips to shut him up and then shivered, tears freezing to his eyelashes. “I do love you,” he said quietly. “And it doesn’t degrade me or humiliate me.”

“It makes you cry,” Draco said.

Hiccupping softly, Ron whispered, “My dad’s gonna kill you for breaking his snowshoes.”

And Draco laughed a little and kissed him. It was a sweet kiss, even though it tasted salty from Ron’s tears, and though Draco didn’t say he loved him, Ron thought that maybe he did, just a little, and maybe that was enough. Maybe the words didn’t matter and maybe they did, but surely they’d have forever and Draco would find the words before forever was over.