A Beginning

I was sitting in The Hog's Head. You know, as you do on a rainy afternoon in February when there's bugger all to do elsewhere. Crabbe and Goyle had lumbered off somewhere to molest a sheep or two in the surrounding countryside, and I was left supping a pint of the finest Guinness and immersed in my own thoughts. It really was no surprise that I had chosen this run-down little hole in the arse-end of Hogsmeade; after all, no-one came here that had that la-dee-da, look-at-me-aren't-I-fucking-wonderful Gryffindor mentality that made me nauseous, and it also served the best pint of stout I've ever tasted outside of Kesh. I've always had a weakness for Muggle alcohol.

I was about halfway through my pint when some dipshit slammed the door wide open, bringing with him a blast of cold air and a torrent of freezing rain. I muttered to myself and returned to my pint and casual observations. The bar was nearly empty today, which was quite surprising for a day as miserable as this. Therefore, you can imagine my surprise when, despite the copious free booths, said dipshit sat opposite me in my quiet little hidey-hole. Even better, it was a fucking Weasley. I was overjoyed.

"What is it now Weasel?" I drawled, rolling my eyes.

"A Muggle drink, Malfoy?" His mouth twisted round my name like he could barely force it out, "I didn't think that Malfoys would lower themselves."

"Its about the drink Weasel, not where it comes from. This gets me drunk at just the right pace." Taking a sip just to prove my point, before adding snidely, "And I didn't know that Weasley's could think. You learn something new every day."

He growled, but didn't make a move to hit me. Just as well, I supposed, after all, I could flatten him with a single punch. And I'm not bragging.

"Weasley, if you aren't going to say something intelligent, which is most likely the case, kindly leave me to my own devices." God, I sounded like Severus there. Good.

"Why are in here alone Malfoy? Did the blockheads abandon you? Or have they just run out to get more rubbers for your cosy little pyjamaless parties?"

Now, I had to give him that one. That was a damn good shot at me, but nothing I couldn't counter-act. I snorted with laughter.

"Not quite Weasley. After all, they were worn out after all those rounds with your sister. Quite the little whore isn't she? But then again, she is a Weasley."

I honestly thought he was going to try to deck me. He went red and I could see his knuckles whiten around his bottle of Butterbeer. Ha, he drinks Butterbeer. Pussy.

"Calm down Weasel, don't blow a fucking blood vessel." I laughed, and saw him flinch at the profanity. There's the Gryffindor in him. "Now, tell me why you are here."

He went from red to white faster than Elvis on a pound of butter-covered bacon, and began fiddling with the filthy label on his Butterbeer. I sighed, and took to staring out the grime-encrusted window while he tried to gather his thoughts. Him being a Weasley, I knew that it would take a while.

"Malfoy?"

"Hmm?"

"Are... are you gay?"

I nearly sprayed a mouthful of Guinness over both him and me. Being a Malfoy, I managed to quickly regain my composure.

"What is it to you, Gryffindor?" I sneered. Despite my indignation, I was quite interested in seeing where this was going. Weasley fiddled some more with his Butterbeer.

"I...just wanted to know, I suppose."

"Oh, so you could make incontinence jokes, wide-ass jokes, jibes about the reaction of my father?" I was nearly laughing by this point, but managed to hold it in. I am a master of self-control. I gave him a steely stare that I knew could flatten most to stuttering, gibbering lumps of meat.

"No, no," he said, more firmly this time. I sighed.

"Well, not that it's any of your business, but I'm bi. That means I swing both ways dipshit."

"I... I know what it means Malfoy." He didn't quite spit my name out this time. I could see that he was trying to, and I nearly felt a shred of pity for the poor little fuckwit.

"What, and you want some kind of medal for it I suppose? You Gryffindors always want rewarding for something."

"No we..." he trailed off. I could see the little cogs working under that mess of ginger hair. He knew I was right.

"So, now that the inquisition is over, may I please return to my pint in peace?"

"You know, whatever Malfoy," he tried to snarl, but I knew that his overly large Gryffindor heart wasn't quite in it. I rolled my eyes and tried for the umpteenth time to get back to my pint. I know that Guinness is meant to be savoured, but this was getting ridiculous.

"Malfoy?"

I was starting to get seriously pissed off.

"What the fuck do you want now?"

"Have you ever..." he trailed off, but gathered his thoughts again, "Have you ever actually been with a guy?"

"Go shag a sheep, Weasel." He looked pained at that. Like I cared.

"Well, have you?"

Then it dawned on me. I couldn't believe I had been so stupid. Weasel was trying to ask me out! I nearly choked with laughter.

"Weasel, just say what you're going to say and get it over with," I laughed. He turned red.

"I wasn't going to say anything," he mumbled, his face clashing horribly with his hair.

"Merlin's beard, Weasley, if you're trying to ask me out..." I had to stop. I was, by this stage, doubled over with laughter. I thought that Weasel was going to cry.

"I wasn't!" he sounded indignant, "I was just...you know..." He mumbled something that I couldn't quite catch.

"What was that Weasley?" I laughed breathlessly. He mumbled something again, and all I caught was, "...experiment..." This set me off even harder. Stuff Malfoy composure, I could barely breathe! I thought I was going to have to be worked with.

"Well Malfoy, what do you say?" He was beginning to get cross now. I had, by this stage, calmed myself considerably and was merely stifling giggles.

"I wouldn't touch a Weasley with a ten-foot barge pole. Plus, I prefer my men older and my women younger."

"Its not like I expect you to go out with me." He looked put out. "Credit me with a bit of taste Malfoy, I don't like this either."

"And that of course is exactly why you are asking me for sex?"

"Yes! No...shut up Malfoy."

"Eloquent, Weasel, very eloquent." Maybe it was the Guinness, but I was in a very generous mood that day. Artur von Brachstoff had told me that morning that he felt bad about cheating on his girlfriend with me, so I was well in the mood. I, of course, didn't tell him that his girlfriend was cheating on him with me.

"What type of experimentation do you mean?"

"Oh...you know..."

"If that's all you can say Weasel, then I'll lay down the ground rules. It's just sex. No lovey-dovey holding hands type of shit or anything else, just emotionless sex. And I will take charge, ok?"

He nodded. Draining the last of my pint, I stood up and made for the door. Weasel followed me.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll find out when we get there."

~*~

We arrived at the Shrieking Shack, and Weasley looked pretty pale and nervous. I rolled my eyes and led him up to one of the bedrooms, where I locked the door with a few charms and hexes. Weasley was sitting on the bed, looking like he was going to throw up.

"Shirt off Weasel." He looked like he'd been slapped, but he complied. It actually wasn't as bad as I had expected. All that Quidditch training wasn't a complete waste of time. As I took mine off, I could see the look in his eyes. I knew I was gorgeous, but I didn't dwell on it that much. If you do, you forget about the more important things in life, like sex and alcohol.

Flicking my hair out of my eyes, I sat down on the bed beside him.

"Have you ever kissed anyone before?" He shook his head. Seventeen years old and never been kissed. You have to laugh.

"Right, just go with it, and if you stop at any point, I'm out of here." He nodded.

~*~

He began to cry for fuck's sake. I know that it hurts, but crying? I was disgusted. As I pulled my trousers back up and my shirt back on, he just curled into a ball on the big bed and let the tears run down his face.

"Stupid fucking Weasel." I muttered to myself. Despite this, I couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for him. Cursing this sudden appearance of a conscience, I sighed and sat back down beside him, pulling his head onto my lap. I shushed him and rocked him while he lay there, sniffling as the tears dried on his face. He looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed.

"You hurt me," he said. I flinched inside.

"I know." He went quiet after I said that, and then looked at me again.

"You didn't mean to?" This was more of a statement than a question, but I answered it anyway.

"No, no I didn't. It always hurts the first few times. I didn't do it intentionally."

He seemed to accept this, and burrowed his head further into my abdomen. He was so innocent, so like a child. I just managed to stop myself stroking his hair.

"Thank you... Draco."

It then hit me like a ton of bricks. Me, a Malfoy, sitting here with a Weasley. I nearly threw up. He looked at me so purely, so thoroughly. I just couldn't handle it. I nearly threw his head off my lap, and leapt to my feet, buttoning my shirt and searching for my shoes. As I tied the laces of one, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I straightened up and turned to face him. He was shifting uncomfortably, his trousers on but unbuttoned and his legs slightly apart.

"Don't run away." he said quietly. I gave a half-hearted sneer, but it melted off my face when he smiled, his eyes still red-rimmed.

"You don't have to run," he said, just as quietly.

"Yes I do!" I spat, "You're a fucking Weasley!"

He flinched at that, but didn't try to leave me.

"You're just scared," he said.

"Malfoys are scared of nothing," I said loftily. He laughed softly at that.

"Malfoys are scared of more than they would care to admit."

My mouth was working, but nothing was coming out. I finally managed a feeble, "Get bent, Weasel."

"Stay with me a while." I hesitated, nibbling my bottom lip. I was about to decline in less than civilised terms, when he took my hand and led me back to the big bed, where he pulled me down beside him and wrapped long, lean arms around me.

"Stay with me Draco," he whispered into my hair.

I don't know why I said it, I truly don't.

"Ok...Ron."