Descent into Darkness

****

As they broke apart he whispered, "The Dark Lord has a plan for each of us, Ron. When the time comes, we will be ready. Join us."

Ron's faced was still reddened from desire but this made him pull back, "W-what?" he stammered, confused.

Draco purred, "All in good time," and unwound the Gryffindor scarf from around Ron's neck. So he doesn't like the idea, he noted; something of the old boy remains. He glared with mock reproach at the gaudy red and gold stripes, before casting it aside. I can forgive that. He caressed the sensitive skin of Ron's exposed throat. "Much better," he murmured as he allowed his mouth to explore.

Ron lost any last thoughts of resistance in the time it took for Draco's mouth to traverse the sensitive skin of his throat back up to the soft pressure point beneath his right ear. But as his hand began to travel down Draco's chest, his fingers caught on the embroidered serpent on his pocket.

"Oh God," he groaned. He felt Draco smile against his neck, obviously interpreting his murmur rather differently. With some difficulty (and reluctance), he pushed Draco away. Bracing his arms against Draco's shoulders to hold him off he said firmly, "I am not making out with Draco Malfoy."

"Alright then, have it your way." Draco didn't even look slightly putout and Ron dropped his hands in surprise.

"I'm sorry, it's just... too weird."

Draco raised one eyebrow at this. "Okay," he said evenly, but then his fingers began to make "Insy-Winsy-Spider" movements up Ron's chest as the other hand curled smoothly around his hip. "Of course, you'll never be able to live it down." He had dropped his voice to a casually seductive drawl, which had a rather unexpected, but not unpleasant, effect on Ron's stomach. He continued, "What were you thinking? It's shameful." His long fingers fiddled with the clasp on Ron's cloak. "It's such a bad, bad idea. Couldn't agree more. How do you open this?"

Trapped in a state of suspended lust, Ron flicked the clasp open. He quickly came back to earth as Draco pushed it off his shoulders, "I said stop! What are you trying to do?"

Draco rolled his eyes and deftly undid the buttons on Ron's shirt, "You're not going start that again, are you?" He fixed him with a reproving stare, "If you're going to come this far you might as well have something worth regretting. Hmmm?" He began a detailed oral examination of Ron's left earlobe. Ron thought about it, and it all seemed very convincing.

Ron was just beginning to relax as Draco playfully zigzagged his fingertips daringly low on his torso when the door slid open and an assortment of Slytherins entered. Draco seemed not to notice.

"Malfoy", Ron whispered urgently, blushing scarlet.

Draco sighed and with some reluctance, stopped. "What now?" he said petulantly.

Ron looked over Draco's shoulder at the now fairly large group of Slytherins. Draco turned. If he was embarrassed, he didn't show it. "I hadn't realised this was a spectator sport," he muttered, causing a flighty-looking girl to giggle hysterically. He glanced at her and she fell silent instantly. He stood back and straightened his clothes.

"Right, is this everyone?" the question was rhetoric, his pale eyes scanned the assembled Slytherins. "Well then, let's begin."

The group settled in the various chairs and sofas, Draco sat in a dark oak throne near the fireplace. Ron picked up his cloak and wavered, unsure of what to do. Draco seemed to have forgotten he was there, asking after missing members, making sure the doors were secure, "Wouldn't want anyone blundering in uninvited, would we?" Ron seemed to make up his mind and made his way towards the door. Crabbe, another of Malfoy's trusted henchmen, blocked his way without a word. Ron looked back helplessly. Draco finally looked up.

"Leaving without saying goodbye? Stay, we insist. I know Vinnie for one would be quite peeved if you left so soon," Malfoy was taunting him, Ron knew that, but he was still charming with it. Ron settled in one of the high-backed chairs again. Draco smiled, almost genially but his eyes glinted in the firelight like ice.

If he had been expecting to hear all about how the Slytherins were about to join forces with You-Know-Who, or resurrect the ghost of Tom Riddle, Ron would have been disappointed. They were ambitious and enterprising; they talked about how they would win the house cup, and what Quidditch fouls might go unnoticed with the use of a quick confusing charm. Malfoy was a born leader; both charming and ruthless in equal measure. He was at his most animated, challenging the others to come up with better plots, laughing sardonically at contributions that even Ron realised were hopeless.

After a while Malfoy stopped and let Braddock and Pritchard, the Slytherin Beaters, continue their argument about the best way to sneakily knock out rival Chasers. He glanced up, and Ron started as he'd realised he'd be staring. Draco smiled knowingly and whispered loudly, "By the way, your shirt's still open," Ron fumbled for the buttons, aware that Malfoy's eyes sparkled with malicious amusement.

He turned back to the group and silenced the bickering Beaters, "Malcolm, Graham; does it have to end this way? With me feeding you to the giant squid and telling Snape you had a freak yachting accident?"

"No Malfoy", they intoned obediently.

"Good", said Draco smoothly. There was a slight pause and then the mood inside the common room changed imperceptibly. "And now let's leave behind these childish things. Time to move on to more... important matters."

The Slytherins tensed; they gave Malfoy their full attention, which had been drifting during the Beater debate. The fire had died down and its glow was fading. Ron was aware that Goyle had doused the torches and now only a faint green light illuminated the room. The dim light made it difficult for Ron to read Malfoy's expression, as he began to address the assembled in hushed, dramatic tones.

The hairs on the back of Ron's neck stood up. He realised that looking around at the darkened faces he could not distinguish one from another, each had a shared expression of rapt, intense concentration. Complete commitment. Like Harry reaching for the Snitch, balancing on the fine line between victory and plummeting to the stadium floor, whatever this was, it was important to these people, they were consumed by it.

It was their ultimate Golden Snitch. And Malfoy, the Seeker, wanted it most of all.

* * * * *

Later, as they left the common room, Draco turned to Ron. He looked at the other boy intently, "Too much?" he asked gently.

Ron met Draco's gaze, wide-eyed. He ran a shaking hand through his tousled hair and shook his head speechlessly. Draco waited.

"I- I don't know," Ron admitted, "it's not what I expected. It's a lot - "

"Yes, I suppose it is." Draco said reassuringly, "Look, it won't always be like that, all those people, all those Slytherins. Next time, it'll just be you and me."

"When?" Ron hadn't wanted to ask, to seem so anxious, but he had to know. He fixed his eyes on the blank stones on the opposite wall.

Draco smirked, "Whenever." He took in Ron's strung-out stare and softened, "Soon", he promised. The warmth of his victory, the final seduction made him feel light-headed but powerful.

Ron ran a hand through his hair again and it took all of Draco's famous self-control not to grab him and finish what he'd started in the common room. In fact, he reasoned, what was stopping him? It was late, the prefects never ventured into the dungeons and he was in a celebratory mood. Everything was going according to plan, but there was no harm in making sure...

Draco stepped toward him, "Weasley?"

Ron looked up and smiled hesitantly. He didn't move as Draco once again stroked the strong lines of his face and shivered slightly in anticipation. This boy learns fast, thought Draco as Ron moved forward, his lips feverish, his face burning.

Suddenly, Draco stepped back, "Foiled again!" he whispered.

Ron did not understand and stuttered incomprehensibly.

Malfoy's face bore the familiar expression of haughty disdain, "Don't you think you'd better get back to where you belong, Gryffindor?" Ron felt as if the floor had dissolved beneath him and the world was spiralling.

Ron's fragile grip on reality reasserted itself as Professor Snape soundlessly appeared at the end of the corridor. The potions master glared with undisguised distaste.

"Mr Weasley," he began ominously, "I believe that Mr Malfoy made an excellent point. After all, boys who wonder the Hogwarts' corridors at night might just get," he paused for effect, "lost".

Ron almost laughed; he's been "lost" ever since he walked down this very corridor. No, he reasoned, this had been happening for quite some time. His old world was unravelling, the new one so confusing, so intoxicating. What remained of the old Ron Weasley was fragmented, scattered and really very lost.

"I was just, um...leaving," Ron started back towards the steps out to the courtyard. In the distance he heard Snape questioning Malfoy and Draco answering, as only he knew how, with self-assured arrogance. He glanced at his watch; it was not as late as he had thought. He could tell Harry he'd been at the library

If, Ron considered with an edge of bitterness, Harry had even noticed he'd been gone.

* * * * *

Draco leant casually against the wall as Snape slithered off towards his office. He'd been suspicious, not of Malfoy but of Ron. Draco had managed to persuade him that Ron was an incompetent, but suggested that he may be part of the Gryffindor plot to withhold the Quidditch Cup for the 2^nd year running. He'd bought it.

He frowned. Weasley had nearly given the game away though, gawking at him like that when Snape had appeared. He really wasn't the brightest wand in the shop. Still, he'd have to keep him nicely infatuated in the meantime, which, Draco allowed, wouldn't be all that arduous.

Draco flicked imaginary dust off his shirtsleeve, a slight smile playing about his lips. And now, he thought, the fun really begins...

To be continued...