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You've Always Been Mine	By : Mamacita Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Draco/Ron Views: 7415 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Waiting Takes Forever

Hogwarts, Library
10 Dec 1995

It was Friday night, two weeks before Christmas and the night before the final Hogsmeade visit of the term. The students looked forward to this weekend outing as a break from studying for end-of-term examinations. Most of them planned to do some last-minute Christmas shopping in the village.

It was snowing hard—“Flakes as big as Filch’s nostrils,” as George put it—and the cold stone corridors were mostly empty. It was nearly time for curfew, and no one wanted to be late returning to their dormitory and risk a detention that would mean missing their Hogsmeade visit.

Ron looked at the clock on the wall of the Library and sighed. He didn’t think another few minutes would make any great difference in the amount of knowledge he could scrape together for the Potions exam the following week. He sighed and began to haphazardly stuff his study materials back into his bag.

Madam Pince paused by his table on her final round to clear out everyone before closing. “Nearly curfew,” she reminded him briskly. “Off you go, now, off to bed with you.” She patted him on the shoulder and bustled off to look for any errant students who might have lost track of time among the stacks. Ron nodded to her and bent to pick up a couple of note cards that had fallen off the table in the breeze of her passing.

Suddenly he heard the sound of running feet behind him. He turned to see Draco dashing toward him in his stocking feet, carrying his shoes. Draco applied the brakes as he neared the table, skidding the last few feet.

“Nice landing,” Ron said. “What’re you doing here? Pince is clearing everyone out for the night.” Indeed, they could hear her voice raised in admonition to some other student far back in the rows of stacks.

Draco pulled out the chair next to Ron. Looking around furtively to make sure no one was within earshot, he whispered, “I just wanted to tell you I’ve got tomorrow all figured out.” He looked like he was about to burst with excitement.

Ron looked puzzled. “Tomorrow? What you’re going to do in Hogsmeade, d’you mean?”

“No, no,” Draco said impatiently. He waited, tapping his fingers rapidly against the table, while Justin Finch-Fletchley sauntered out of the stacks and strolled in leisurely fashion past their table and out of the Library. Finally the door swung shut behind him. “I mean,” Draco went on hurriedly, “I’ve figured out how we can get some time together. Just the two of us. You know—” he looked around again— “so we can have some private time.”

Suddenly Ron didn’t feel sleepy any more. “Oh. Oh!” He huddled closer to Draco. “So...what did you have in mind?”

As a precaution, Draco waited while a couple of first years trotted past, but they were chattering loudly enough that they wouldn’t have heard him anyway. “Look, we can’t talk here. Meet me tomorrow morning in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom after breakfast.”

“Tomorrow? But that’s—”

“I know, Ron,” Draco said. Now Madam Pince’s voice carried to them from some closer location; it sounded as if she was on her way back to her desk. “Look—I know, okay? But maybe Hermione or Ginny or one of the others could do your gift shopping for you—and how much candy does any one person really need?” At the woebegone look on Ron’s face—he might be fifteen, but his sweet tooth showed no sign of abating—Draco decided he should probably hurry past that point. “Ron.” He put his hand on Ron’s arm. “Please. This waiting is killing me.”

Ron stared into Draco’s gray eyes. He often thought they had a somewhat mesmerizing quality to them. Narcissa knew it well; she recognized Lucius in those eyes and was nothing but grateful to Harry for dispatching her husband before his influence could cause his own worst qualities to emerge in their son.

“Okay,” Ron said gruffly. “You’re right.” He could never resist Draco’s pleading; besides, the waiting was getting to him, too. “So—Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom after breakfast, then? That’s it?”

“For now. I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow. We’ll have the whole day to ourselves while everyone’s off in Hogsmeade. The whole day, Ron...just us...together.” His eyes shone with anticipation.

Suddenly Ron thought of all the possibilities of the thing. He gulped audibly. “The whole day,” he repeated. Quite an idea, that.

Draco caught his lower lip between his teeth at the heated look in Ron’s eyes, which had suddenly zeroed in on Draco’s lips. Ron’s hand started to come up, aching to touch that smooth, angelic face—

—but just then Madam Pince marched up to them and knocked smartly on the table. “Well?” she demanded. “We’re closing, Mr Weasley—and what are you doing here, Mr Malfoy? Come along, both of you. Some of us have better things to do of a Friday night than spend it waiting around for the likes of you. You’ve shilly-shallied long enough. Just look, now. You only have—” she glanced at the clock, prodding them toward the entrance as she spoke— “four minutes before curfew to get to your dormitories.” She tsk’d. “Such a shame if you were to get detentions and miss Hogsmeade tomorrow. If I were you I’d leg it, boys!” She yanked the door opened and made shooing motions at them.

Ron stepped into the hall and turned. “So—see you tomorrow, then,” he said. Draco nodded. He glanced at the glass doors to the Library. Madam Pince was still standing inside, hands on hips, glaring at them. “We’d better go. See you!” They sped off in opposite directions, Ron toward the staircase leading to Gryffindor tower and Draco to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons.

Madam Pince’s bright little eyes watched their departure. Once they were safely out of sight, a wistful sigh escaped her. These students! Every time it happened, they thought they were the first ones to ever fall in love. Ah, but there was nothing new under the sun, after all. She shook her head and waved her wand to dim the lamps, then waddled off to her quarters.

Ron set off at a lope. Even though he was still a bit regretful about missing out on the visit to Hogsmeade the next day, it sounded as if Draco had come up with a way for the two of them to spend the day together, with no interruptions. That was too intriguing to miss. Draco was so clever about things like that. Privately, Ron thought Draco had much more in common with Hermione than he would probably care to admit. Organizational skills, indeed.

But as exciting as the thought of tomorrow was, first Ron had to get safely back to Gryffindor without being discovered. He had no intention of wasting a day at Filch’s beck and call. Filch and his blasted cat seemed to live for the chance to catch students breaking rules, and detentions appeared to be the caretaker’s preferred form of recreation.

Quickly but quietly Ron made his way back to Gryffindor, meeting no one along the way. He skidded to a stop in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. She threw up her hands in exasperation and looked at him reproachfully.

“Three minutes late,” she hissed. “Quick—the password! Sir Cadogan warned me you were coming—and so is that damnable cat!” She peered at him near-sightedly. “Oh, come now—you do remember the password, don’t you?” She rolled her eyes and shifted from one foot to the other, wringing her hands worriedly. Every few seconds she darted an apprehensive look down the corridor.

Ron concentrated fiercely for a moment, then his face cleared. “Oh—of course!” he said at last.

“Well? Out with it—and do hurry up!”

“Felis Damnaris,” Ron said, beaming.

Instantly the portrait swung forward to reveal the entrance to the common room. “Inside, hurry!” the Fat Lady commanded. Ron leaped over the threshold and the portrait slammed shut behind him. As soon as it closed, a strange conversation ensued out in the corridor. Ron pressed his ear to the door, listening.

There was a familiar plaintive meow that ended on a rising note—clearly a question.

“Why, no,” the Fat Lady replied in a muffled voice. “I haven’t seen a soul. It’s really been very quiet this evening.”

“Mrrr-ow!”

“Nonsense!” Ron could imagine the Fat Lady tossing her head, her long ringlets bouncing. “There’s been no one, I tell you. Now do go away and be quiet. A lady needs her beauty sleep.”

“Yaouuuurrr-ow! Rowr! Grrrr....”

There was a gasp, followed by an insulted “Well, I never! Shoo! Get out, you nasty old thing. Hmph!”

Mrs Norris could be heard uttering a litany of feline complaints and insults as she stalked away down the hall, resenting the fact that she was apparently mere moments too late to catch the rulebreaking miscreant. She snorted to herself.

Hasn’t seen a soul—very quiet this evening, indeed! Wouldn’t I just like to sink my nice sharp claws into that ridiculous Fat Lady, with her silly pink dress and those ringlets no one is ever allowed to play wi—er, wait. What was I saying? Oh yes. Students out after curfew. She sighed. She hated to go back to Filch empty-handed. Well, perhaps she would have better luck tomorrow. After all, it was the weekend—and one could always count on a Weasley or two to be sneaking about the castle after curfew of a Saturday night.
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You've Always Been Mine