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The Hole	By : Tnteacups Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Draco/Ron Views: 7360 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of J.K.Rowlings ideas, characters, or works. I do not make any money from this fan fiction.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Closer

Ron woke groggily, snuggling closer to Malfoy, pressing his face unceremoniously into the blond’s neck and hair, trying to hide from the dim sunlight that filtered through the white curtains. He’d been having the best dream, but the harder he tried to recall it, the further from his mind it slipped.
It’d been a week since Malfoy’s last breakdown, since his mother had arrived, and despite the swell of people that now lived in the house, Ron had witnessed Malfoy beginning to come out of his shell. He’d talked for what seemed like hours to Ron’s mum, his face transfixed as he listened and laughed along to her stories of Ron as a child. Ron had been red-faced throughout the entire ordeal, trying desperately to stop the woman from embarrassing him, and was still unable to get Draco to stop teasing him about a few of the things he’d learned.
“Stop poking me…” Draco grumbled tiredly, his hand pushing half-heartedly at Ron’s hip.
Ron felt his face heat instantly at the realization that he was sporting an erection, and suddenly, he remembered his dream. It had been full of platinum hair and white skin.
“Sorry!” Ron tried to untangle himself from his bedmate, desperate to get away before the half-asleep man realized what was pressed into his thigh.
“Ow! Hey! Stop!” Malfoy was suddenly very awake, and staring balefully up at Ron, rubbing the spot on his chest that Ron had accidentally elbowed. Their legs were still tangled together, and Ron felt his blush spreading to his ears and neck as Malfoy shifted, trying to relieve the discomfort Ron’s struggles had caused.
His leg stretched, and Ron hissed in surprise, tilting his hips away as Draco’s thigh pressed firmly, if briefly, into his hard-on.
“Ron…” Draco blinked up at him, his eyes wide, his eyebrows lowering in contemplation, his mouth hanging slightly open in bewilderment. “Was that…”
“No!” Ron denied, losing the battle against his own face. He knew he must resemble a beet, and tried once more to dislodge himself from the bed.
“Hey! Ow!” Draco yelped, grabbing Ron’s shirt to stop his movements. “Calm down! It’s not like it’s a capital offense.” Draco grumbled, scowling at the pain in his leg from Ron’s flailing.
Ron averted his gaze, unable to meet the silvery eyes that had been prominent in his dream. With Malfoy practically underneath him, the dream seemed much too tangible, the way Malfoy’s legs were sliding against his as he extricated them from danger made his dick throb needily. He was a bit surprised his blush hadn’t spread to cover every inch of him in his shame.
“Seriously, I don’t mind. Just stop flailing.” Draco muttered, flopping his legs freely to the mattress, and closing his eyes, like he was going to go back to sleep so easily.
“Well I mind.” Ron admitted, finally rolling from the bed, and standing awkwardly with his back to Draco, not sure he could handle the embarrassment of walking across the room with his trouser tent displayed openly for grey eyes to see.
“Why?” Malfoy asked, his voice clearly nowhere near sleep, but Ron didn’t dare turn to see if his eyes were open again.
“‘Cause it’s… it’s embarrassing.” Ron stammered, staring down at the bulge that refused to retreat. Knowing Draco was just behind him on the bed, sprawled comfortably, possibly looking over at him with those intense silver eyes… he didn’t have any chance of it going down.
“It’s normal. I’d say it’s a good sign, actually.” Malfoy said, sounding almost scholarly as he spoke of the awkward bodily function Ron suffered. “I mean, it didn’t happen in Azkaban, did it?”
“No…” Ron admitted, refusing to turn the question around. He wouldn’t think about anything to do with Draco’s privates. Nothing to do with him being aroused, or-
“Me neither. So it’s gotta be a good thing, right? A sign that nothing’s been permanently lost due to lack of use?” His voice was teasing now, and Ron’s lips twitched in a humored smile on their own.
“Sure. Whatever.” He agreed, looking up at the ceiling, and thinking over his next words for barely a second before they spilled from his lips. “Have you- Has it happened to you since we got out?”
The silence from behind him seemed almost ominous, and he cringed, feeling like an absolute twat.
“No. But it didn’t happen much before, either.” Malfoy finally said, his voice quiet, almost ashamed.
“Oh.” Ron replied dumbly, his embarrassment at his situation lessening as Draco proved he wasn’t going to tease him about it, or get angry. Like everything, he was proving insanely easy to talk to, about anything. “What d’you mean?” Ron asked, finally turning around to face the blond. He sat, lifting one knee slightly to hide the evident traitor.
“Um…” Draco was sitting up now, his legs crossed under the blanket, his back slouched as he rubbed his face. “I got them in the morning from like, twelve to fifteen, but… After You-Know-Who started bunking at the Manor, I… guess I was too scared to even think about things like that.”
“But… At school… weren’t you and Pansy-?” Ron seemed confused, his face screwing up with thought.
“Eh, sort of. She kept throwing herself at me, so I went with it, just to seem more cool, to seem like I had my shit together… But really, it was all for show. She was fairly revolting.”
Ron nodded in agreement, finally feeling the heat in his face receding. He couldn’t even imagine having Pansy Parkinson trying to snog him. Just the thought was enough to pull the blood back from his privates.
“What about you and that Brown girl? Did you two ever…?” Malfoy trailed off, waving a hand to say what he couldn’t.
“Nah. She never let me get farther than snogging. Tried getting under her shirt a few times, and she threatened to call the whole thing off if I didn’t stop pushing my luck.” Ron thought back, grimacing at the memory of the golden curls, the too-wet kisses, the uncomfortable erections she’d left him with nearly nightly.
“What an immense cocktease.” Malfoy sniggered, his head cocked to the side in a familiar way that Ron recognized as him trying to visualize the scenario.
“So, you and Parkinson never got farther than snogging, either?” Ron asked, trying not to seem unnaturally interested in Draco’s lovelife. What if he realized Ron was imagining him naked, panting, and sweaty? Would he be revolted? Would he demand someone switch rooms with him? Ron sure hoped he never had to find out.
“Sort of. Pretty much the opposite of Brown. She kept trying to go further, and I kept backing away. One time, she got her hand down my pants, and I swear I thought my cock was never going to unshrivel.”
Ron found himself laughing at the vulgarity of Malfoy’s words, and the absolutely ridiculous image of Parkinson searching in vain for an erection she could never cause. He really wouldn’t wish that beast on anyone.
“Ron, Draco, are you awake?” Hermione’s voice came through the door, followed by a few short knocks, making them both jump in surprise.
“Uhh, yeah!” Ron called, checking to make sure his pants weren’t saluting anymore.
Hermione pushed the door open, her eyes darting around the room, and finding them easily. Ron noticed Malfoy look pointedly at her stomach, keeping his gaze away from hers. Ron followed his example, and looked to the left of her head. It had been a strange week, avoiding her eyes all the time, but with the things he’d been thinking about Malfoy, he really felt it was the least awkward of his choices.
“Breakfast is getting cold. Oh, and Ron, your mum wants help in the garden after you’re finished.” She announced, her eyes darting from one wary set of eyes to another. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just too early to be sharing private thoughts.” Malfoy replied quickly, and Ron bit back a groan. He was just going to make her more curious.
“Really? You two weren’t… Doing anything?” She sounded almost smarmy, and Ron saw her face filled with an expression that seemed to mock Snape’s usual ‘there are no secrets from me’ smirk.
“No! We were talking about exes.” Ron quickly tried to remedy the misunderstanding, while Draco looked downright horrified.
“Just how ‘talented’ are you, Granger? Are you picking up on random thoughts without any sort of… Anything?” He asked, looking at her as though she’d grown another head.
“No!” Hermione said too quickly, her cheeks flushing with her lie.
“Sweet Merlin. Nothing is safe anymore.” Malfoy muttered, rolling from the bed, and running a hand through his hair as he walked to the closet to get dressed.
“Hermione, can you… turn it off?” Ron asked, feeling suddenly as though he weren’t wearing any clothes. Did she already know about everything he hadn’t told Malfoy?
“If I focus, yes. It’s almost like… Doing it is more natural than not, now. But if it makes you so uncomfortable, I’ll make an effort to keep away from your guys’ thoughts.” Hermione said, looking guilty. “And yes, sometimes I pick up much more than I ever wanted to.”
“Stop doing that!” Ron chastised, realizing she’d just replied to his internal worries, rather than spoken words.
“Sorry!” Hermione yanked her gaze away, and nearly ran from the room. Ron grumbled to himself as the door snapped closed, and followed Draco into the closet, ready to get breakfast, and into the gardens. Anything to take his mind off the fact that Hermione was apparently privy to things he didn’t even like admitting to himself.
“So she’s reading minds without even trying… And likely, knows everyone’s secrets. Remind me not to piss her off anytime soon.” Draco mused as Ron stepped into the large square dressing room. He kept himself from staring at the bare expanse of alabaster skin that was exposed as his roommate pulled the sleep shirt off, and reached for a clean one.
“You should wear a t-shirt.” Ron advised, eyeing the long sleeves he was about to pull on.
“I’d rather keep people from staring.” Draco retorted, pulling the dark green over his head.
“You think they’ll stare less if you’re dressed strangely? At least wear a thinner one.” Ron said, eyeing the thick woven fabric, as Draco paused, his eyes on Ron’s, the shirt barely past his head.
“Alright.” He pulled it right back off, and reached for a thinner cotton one. Ron tore his eyes away from the half-naked body next to him, and began changing his own clothes, suddenly feeling very aware of how thin he still was. He’d always been slim, but even a week and a half, and three doses of Snape’s potion hadn’t gotten him back to his normal weight. His ribs were still visible, his hipbones jutted out, and he thought his elbows sometimes resembled spikes. He hadn’t been bothered by his thinness in anything more than a health capacity at first, but now, as he stole a glance at Malfoy’s covered form, which had seemed to be gaining weight faster than Ron’s, he wondered if his thinness would ever be a detracting factor in someone fancying him. Someone. He nearly scoffed. He knew exactly who he meant. And apparently so did Hermione.
He yanked a shirt over his head and heard Malfoy step out of the closet. From the dreams he’d been having, and the hard-ons he’d been getting nearly all week, it seemed like he really did fancy Malfoy. Now he just had to figure out if Draco was having similarly confusing thoughts.
* * *
Sweat trickled down the small of Draco’s back, but he didn’t dare take a break. He didn’t even pause. Ron had, of course, been right; the long sleeves were nearly suffocating in the midday sun, the fair spring weather not having any mercy for the former Death Eater. His platinum hair was plastered to his forehead, and he was certain that if his shirt stuck any closer to his skin it would become part of him permanently.
His fingers picked at weeds diligently, the task comfortable on his quick nimble fingers, soothing the ever-present ache to claw at a wall he was no longer trapped by. Molly had complimented his perseverance despite the heat, but Ron had only given him a strange look, somewhere between worried and understanding. The slim redhead’s own hands had been working tirelessly, if at a slower pace, his kneeling body falling further behind Draco’s swiftly moving form. The large garden would soon be totally free of weeds, and afterward, Draco wasn’t sure what he was going to do with himself. The week had been getting progressively harder, and two-facedly easier. His strength had nearly completely returned, he’d even noticed his muscles beginning to come back in. Whatever had been in the potion Snape had given them it’d done wonders to not only return their energy, but their weight, color, and apparently, in Ron’s case, libido as well. But with that extra power came uncomfortably strong urges to kiss his best friend again. To hold him in front of everyone else, to prove that he wasn’t going to disappear or betray the only person he’d felt such a connection with. The others mostly avoided speaking to him, which he supposed was an improvement over the constant glares and snarky remarks. To his absolute surprise, Hermione seemed to be the next person on her way to trusting him, making an effort to include him in her conversations, and keeping her tone friendly. In hindsight, he supposed it must’ve been due to the fact that she could see his intentions. If she was a powerful enough Legilimens to be skimming people’s thoughts without effort, then surely she’d seen just how close he and Ron had gotten. Surely she knew of Draco’s secret kiss. The stolen peck he’d thought about for nearly a whole week. Surely she…
His fingers froze, halfway through the motion of yanking out the roots of a rather large clump of weeds. Surely she knew Ron’s thoughts as well. That was it then! He didn’t have to worry about ruining the comfortable companionship he had with Ron by asking Ron if he fancied him. He could just ask her.
He shot to his feet, wiping his hands hastily on his jeans and throwing an excuse for needing the restroom over his shoulder as he rushed inside. He had no idea where she’d be, and needed to buy himself time to chat with her before Ron came looking for him. He knew, like gravity, Ron would come looking. He always did, either out of concern, or his own need not to be left alone.
“Granger?” Malfoy called sticking his head first in the sitting room, then the living room. He darted up the stairs. Glad that the quick dash didn’t tire him out in the least, that his legs didn’t wobble at the top. He knocked on the door he knew was her and Snape’s. A quick shudder of revulsion at that thought, and no answer. Where the hell was she? He skipped back down the stairs, and looked around, at a loss. Would she be with Snape? He was almost always in the cellar, brewing up one potion or another. He trotted across the living room, yanked the door open and called down.
“Granger? You down there?” He could see the soft light and hear the soft crackling of a fire underneath at least one cauldron.
“Yes! I’m ah… I’m down here.” Her voice sounded breathy, and Draco paused, staring down at the wan light with suspicion.
“May I come down?” He called politely, chancing a glance back over his shoulder.
“You may.” A deeper voice answered, and he felt his face flush a bit as he descended the stairs.
“What is it?” Hermione asked in a friendly voice as he entered the open space of Snape’s workshop. She was leaning casually against a worktable, and Snape was stirring one of many concoctions. Malfoy looked from one to the other inquisitively. Her cheeks were flushed and his back was turned, but there was definitely something off.
“Did you need something?” Snape barked with a bit more short-temper, turning to fix his student with a threatening glare. Draco forced his eyes back to Granger.
“Could I speak with you alone a moment, Granger?” He asked, feeling color rise to his cheeks as he occluded his thoughts of Ron. He didn’t want to ask those sorts of things in front of Snape. He’d never be able to face him again.
“You know he’s going to know what you have to say, regardless?” Hermione glanced from him to Severus and back, her mouth open, but hesitating before she finished. “A relationship with two Legilimens makes it difficult to hide much of anything.”
Draco paused, looking to Snape’s back, and then to the searching brown eyes of Hermione. It wasn’t possible that Snape had actually let her read his thoughts, was it? Did she know the mysteries behind the bat-like Slytherin? It didn’t seem likely, but would he even have been able to keep her out?
“That’s none of your business, Draco.” Hermione’s voice held an edge of steel, and he felt his face flush, and pulled his occlumency lessons back over his mind.
“I’d still like to speak alone.” He let his mental guard down a bit, shooting the thoughts at her behind Snape’s back “I don’t think I’ll be able to say it in front of him.”
“Very well.” Hermione pushed away from the table, shaking her bushy hair as she followed him back up the steps. Snape kept on stirring, unbothered by his 'girlfriend’s' departure. Draco led her to the living room, and paused, closing the door so their voices wouldn’t carry back down to the raven-haired potions master. He scanned the living room, found it empty, and kept his voice lower than a whisper.
“I wanted to ask you about Ron.” His cheeks were blazing now. If she hadn’t picked up on his confused crush before, there was about to be no way out.
“Oh? His favorite color is sky blue, he’s six foot four, loves custard on his pudding, and his favorite food is probably chicken.” She answered with a sarcastic stare.
“No, not that. I…” Draco glared at her. He couldn’t help it. He’d hated her since he’d started school, and now, he needed her help. “I wanted to know what he thinks about me.”
“No. Speaking with a person about their own thoughts is one kind of awkward. Speaking with you about someone else’s is unethical.” Hermione shot him down instantly.
“Uugh. Please, Granger! I can’t ask him! You know, don’t you? What Mr. Weasley asked me? How I’ve been trying to figure it out since?”
Hermione bit her lip, worrying the delicate skin, but nodded. “Sorry, I… try not to pry, but sometimes I just.. Can’t stop it.”
His face flushed beet colored, he was sure, but he charged on, desperate to end his horrible limbo.
“Then I just need a simple yes or no on whether bringing that up with him would end our friendship.” Draco tried to make it as easy as possible for her to break her friend’s mental confidence. He had to know.
“I… I’m not sure. I can’t see the future, Draco, so no matter what either of you thinks about, I can’t be certain how your dynamic might change if either of you were to-”
“Granger!” Malfoy snapped, cutting her off and fixing her with his most scathing glare. “I didn’t ask for insight into the future. Does. Ron. Feel. The. Same?”
“Ask him yourself. I’m sick of overhearing the pair of you everytime I sit down to dinner, so you’d better work it out. Each of you seems to be screaming as loudly as a freight train with your damn questions. You’re both morons.” With that, Hermione turned on her heel and marched back down to the potions lab, leaving a very stunned Draco standing, staring blankly at the door. What had that meant? Ron had doubts too? About them, or something else? Couldn’t she have been more specific?
“Draco? What’re you staring at the door for?” Ron’s voice made him nearly jump out of his skin. He turned, the dirt-smudged sight of his best friend felt like someone was scrambling his organs all around his stomach.
“Nothing. Let’s get back to the garden?” Draco offered, ready to put his hands back to work so he wouldn’t march down there and throttle the bushy-haired bint.
* * *
Ron slid into his chair for dinner, his mind feeling like mush, his fingers actually sore from the work they’d put in. He’d been thinking it over all day, and he’d only come up with one solution. He’d have to ask Hermione to dig through Malfoy’s thoughts for him. It was the only way he could find out if Draco would accept him as more than a friend without making an absolute fool of himself.
“Hermione, could you please pass the butter?” He asked, trying desperately to catch her eye. She kept her eyes on her plate, but slid the butter over to him. He half-shouted her name in his mind, hoping to catch her attention. She didn’t look up.
“Draco, you need to eat more than that!” His mother was fussing over the blond, leaning around Ron to place a hand on Draco’s forehead. “Are you feeling ill?”
“I’m fine.” Draco mumbled, pulling away, keeping his own eyes lowered. He dutifully took another bite though, placating Ron’s mother, though he seemed lost in his own world. He’d seemed distracted all day, and Ron fought the urge to reach his own hand out and feel for a fever.
“Hermione, do we have any pumpkin juice, or is it all apple?” Ron asked, swirling the water around in his glace with feigned interest.
“There’s some in the kitchen.” Hermione replied, finally looking up. Ron began shooting his thoughts at her before she could look away. “I need a favor, Hermione. I need you to dig through Draco’s thoughts and find out-”
She looked away, her eyes darting to Draco, and then back, narrowing suspiciously.
“So, Ron. You said you and Draco were talking about exes this morning. Did I come up at all?” Hermione’s voice was quiet, but her piercing eyes held something he couldn’t quite place. Irritation, maybe.
“Uhh… No… Not really. It was mostly Pansy we talked about.” He lied, tearing his eyes away at the mortifying thought of what had caused their discussion and his admission that Lavender had constantly denied him. He didn’t want Hermione to know any of those things.
“I see.” Hermione turned her eyes back to her food, and let the conversation drop. Ron waited a moment to see if she was going to ask anything else shaming, and then continued his mental assault.
“I need to you to find out what he thinks of me. What you thought about us being closer than we are, I need to know if that’s how he-”
“Did Lavender come up in your chat?” Hermione’s voice dripped with a mixture of honey and acid, her eyes cutting right to Ron’s core. He swallowed, fighting back the urge to be sick. She couldn’t already know, could she? Had she already heard their whole conversation?
“Uhh… A bit.” He admitted, feeling his cheeks heat with embarrassment. Why was she suddenly so keen on what he and Draco had talked about that morning? Did she really want to know, or was she just asking about the most interesting thing she could find?
“Hm.” Hermione took another bite of her food dropping her gaze again. Ron tried once more.
“Can you hear me, Hermione? I really need your help. Please? Pleasepleaseplease-”
“Draco,” Her eyes darted up and found the blond sitting next to him. He sighed with relief. She was going to do it?
“Hm?” He looked up from his meal, but his eyes narrowed as he met her gaze, clearly distrusting of her ability.
“Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to Ron about?” Her eyes were piercing, and Ron felt sorry as Draco’s face flushed slightly.
“Not really.” He mumbled, averting his gaze. Ron looked back to Hermione just in time to see her wiping a malicious smirk that very much ghosted Snape’s from her face.
“Oh, really? Because I remember earlier, you were asking me about whether or not he-”
“Alright! Fine.” Draco lurched to his feet, glaring at her, and drawing the eyes of the rest of the table as he did so. “I’m finished. Ron, I’ll be in our room when you’re done.”
Ron watched him disappear from the room, his face cherry-red. He looked back to Hermione. She was supposed to be getting information, not running him off!
“What was that for?” He snapped at her, feeling an irritated flush start at his ears.
“I just reminded him of something he mentioned earlier. Should I have let him forget?”
Ron glared at her a moment, not sure what game she was playing, but certain there was some game afoot. Was she just trying to avoid having to ferret out secrets?
“Did you look into what I suggested, earlier?” He chanced, trying to ignore the way the rest of the Order was watching his and Hermione’s conversation.
“It’s a very sensitive subject, Ron. I’m not entirely sure it’s suitable for the dinner table, though.” He felt his face go darker than Malfoy’s as her insinuation of what he could have been asking about, and pointedly avoided his mother’s disapproving stare.
“I mean, I have no problem discussing it with you right now, if you don’t mind everyone else knowing about your private-”
“ No! No, that’s fine.” Ron averted his glare, feeling as though his embarrassment could burn a hole through the floor.
“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Weasley had finally had enough, looking quickly from Ron to Hermione, and back. “Are you having problems with something? Has it to do with why you’re not eating dinner? Are you feeling okay? Severus, do we have any pepperup potion?”
“I’m fine, mum!” Ron pushed away from the table. “I’m gonna go see what Draco wanted.” He excused himself, darting into the hall before his mother and Hermione could say anything else to make him want to vanish. He paused in the hallway, hoping Hermione wouldn’t tell his mother what he’d asked her to do. He wasn’t usually the sneaky type, but after how strangely Hermione had been acting, he felt a bit of covert eavesdropping might be necessary.
“Weren’t you a bit insensitive, bringing up personal things like that in front of everyone?” His father’s voice was chastising, and he winced. His father almost never took a cross tone.
“No. If they both want to invade people’s privacy, then they deserve to know what it feels like firsthand. And besides, Arthur, if I hadn’t made them talk to each other, they would’ve kept dancing around the issue, being too scared to be the one to bring it up first.”
“What issue? What’s going on?” His mother sounded confused, but the whole table was silent, and Ron could practically see everyone’s eyes darting around. Did they all know how he felt about Malfoy? Had they all made the same assumption as Hermione?
“You haven’t noticed them holding hands, mum?” Bill’s voice was quiet, but held none of his usual venom for Draco.
“Well of course I have! They do it all the time! I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. I’m glad they’re there for each other.” His mother sounded huffy, and Ron knew her arms would be crossed.
“You don’t think it’s a bit strange how they’re always together? You know they sleep together, right?” Bill put in.
“Of course, zere’s only one bed in zeir room!” This time it was Fleur who interjected. “You expect one to sleep on ze floor?”
“No, I mean… Together. I’ve gone to check on them a few times in their sleep, make sure Malfoy’s not trying to escape or something, and…”
“They hold each other in their sleep.” Arthur’s voice finished Bill’s sentence. Ron felt as though he was going to sink right through the floor. They’d seen them? Everyone knew? What must they think?
“Can we please stop discussing this? They’re not a sideshow. How they choose to heal is their own business.” Ron was surprised to hear George’s voice join the argument.
“You’re right. They’re not.” Hermione finally spoke up again. “To answer your question, Molly, what’s going in is their own business. They kept trying to drag me into it, and I’ve had enough. They can work out for themselves whether it’s just a coping mechanism or something more.
“What do you mean something more?” Dean piped up, his curiosity clearly too much to hold back.
Hermione gave a sigh, and Ron heard silverware being set down.
“You know exactly what she means.” Snape’s cold voice cut through the tension. “I don’t think a single one of us can deny suspecting them of being more than they let on, but it appears as though they’ve yet to work that out for themselves. So, if everyone could kindly consider how you’d feel in the same situation, we can put this subject back into the box it came from, and get on with dinner.” Ron was nearly stunned to hear Snape be so empathetic, and had a suspicion it was just a ruse to get them all to stop talking about the boys’ possible feelings. Just because he had feelings for Hermione didn’t mean he could feel anything but spite for anyone else. The room devolved into silence, and Ron waited to see if anyone would say anything else before he tiptoed away, and made his way up the stairs.
His fingers landed on the doorknob to his bedroom, and he froze. Draco was in there, and Hermione had been pushing them to talk about their unspoken undercurrent of emotions. Did that mean Malfoy had the same feelings? Was she pushing them to speak so that they’d get uncomfortable and stop touching each other in a way that made the rest of the house so clearly nosy?
He took a few deep breaths and opened the door, mustering all of his Gryffindor courage to do so. The lights were out, and he felt his racing heartbeat slow slightly. He wouldn’t be forced to talk about this in the light, at least.
“Ron?” Draco’s voice called from under the blankets. Ron grinned to himself at Draco’s cowardly hiding spot in the dark.
“The whole house is losing their bloody minds.” He muttered, kicking the trainers from his feet and slipping into his side of the bed. Draco chuckled, but the sound ended too soon, and Ron stared at the sight he hadn’t seen in over a week. The top of Draco’s head poking out of the blanket as though he were a giant snail. Every time they’d been in the bed together they’d slid right up against each other, without effort. Now, due to Hermione’s meddling, it seemed there was enough tension between them that neither dared cross the middle of the bed.
“What were you talking to Hermione about earlier?” Ron encouraged, hoping to put off his own topic for as long as possible.
“Oh… Just um… Something your dad said to me.” Draco’s voice wavered slightly, and Ron scooted closer, tamping down his guilt and reaching his hand across the bed. Malfoy’s fingers twined easily around his, comforting both of them as Ron waited patiently for his friend to continue. “About this, actually.”
He wiggled their hands in indication. Ron felt his face flush all over again.
“The whole Order seems to have one opinion or another about this.” Ron squeezed gently, remembering the argument he’d overheard. Every one of their opinions could be shoved.
“I don’t give a damn about their opinions. They can all get bent.” Draco seethed quietly, scooting himself closer as if to prove his point.
“What’d my dad say to you?” Ron asked, feeling he already had an idea. Malfoy was quiet a moment, the sound of his breathing and warmth of his fingers the only indication he was even present.
“He um… asked if we were ‘more than friends’.” Draco’s voice sounded a bit choked, and Ron felt his face flaming. Of course. Everyone thought they knew. He kept his mouth shut tight, carefully contemplating his next words. He couldn’t give himself away yet. But if he did stand a chance, he couldn’t dismiss the assumptions as ridiculous.
“Hermione asked the same thing when she told me about her and Snape.” Ron added, putting the ball back in Draco’s court. He wasn’t very good at mind games, but he would avoid outright saying it as long as he could. He’d do his damndest to get Malfoy to admit first whether he did or didn’t want more.
“What’d you tell her?”
“Told her it wasn’t the same, didn’t I? No way we’re half as bizarre as her and Snape, no matter how comfortable we are with each other. At least we’re the same age.” Ron said vehemently. He’d neither confirmed nor denied if he agreed with Hermione’s assumption, and was mentally patting himself on the back, when Draco landed the fatal blow.
“What about you? Do you think it’s a sign we’re… friendlier than we should be?” His voice gave nothing away about what he was thinking, and Ron hesitated, thinking desperately for some way not to answer.
“I… don’t know. I mean, I’ve never been this physical with another bloke before, but… I don’t know if that necessarily means whether I fancy men or women. It not like we’re snogging, or… or shagging, is it?” Just the thought brought back his dream. They weren’t shagging, but he was certain he wouldn’t mind if they were. But if they really were 'more than friends' would the rest of the house further lose their minds? Would they stop asking about it if there really were no boundaries? So far the pair had done no more than hold hands, and occasionally lean against one another when others could see, if one disregarded the sneaks that peeped on their sleeping habits. If they cuddled together on a couch, would everyone just assume they’d become more, or would there be endless questions?
“No, we’re not. But does it bother you that they think we are?” Draco danced around it some more, shuffling uncomfortably, his face still hidden. Ron stared at the top of his head, wishing that he could steal Hermione’s intellect for just one brief moment. Or her intuition. When was the right time to admit he wanted to take things further?
“No. Like you said, they can all get bent.” Ron declared, wondering if he was being a total coward. Was it wrong if he wanted to nestle against Malfoy and just ignore this conversation?
“Why do they even think it? I mean, neither of us has ever given a sign of fancying men before.” Draco mused, sounding irritated with the masses. “You haven’t kissed a bloke before, have you?”
Ron nearly choked, sitting bolt upright, his movement dislodging the blankets so he was free to stare down at the perfect blond curled on the bed as he nearly shouted, “No! I told you… only Lavender and Hermione.”
Draco matched his position, pulling himself to sit so he could look dead into Ron’s eyes to continue his interrogation. And Ron did suddenly feel as though he were being interrogated. As though Malfoy knew exactly which questions to ask to sort the problem out without ever saying it directly.
“Would you?”
“Would I kiss a man?” Ron clarified, buying himself time as he studied Malfoy’s face, trying to determine what the right answer was. Was this his opportunity? Or was Draco looking for a solid ‘no’ to comfort himself that Ron was safe to continue touching?
Draco nodded that he had the question right, and Ron felt his face flush bright crimson as he stammered.
“I- I don’t know. Would you?” He shot back, trying to deter the focus away from himself.
“It’s never really mattered to me before. Pansy was a girl, and she was repulsive. How much worse could a guy be?” Malfoy dodged. It wasn’t a no. Ron nodded absently in agreement.
“I suppose you’re right. Can’t be that bad.” Ron muttered, his eyes lingering for a moment on Draco’s lips. Would it be soft, like a girls? Would it be too-wet, like Lavender? Chaste, like Hermione?
“Do you want to try?” Draco’s voice was almost teasing, but his cheeks were flooding with color, his eyes darting between Ron’s, searching his expression. Was it a joke? Was he serious? The question hung in the air a second too long, past the point a joke would be left dangling, and Ron mustered his courage, threw caution to the wind, and nodded.
“Sure.”
Draco visibly swallowed, his hands balling into nervous fists on the bed, and his gaze fell to Ron’s mouth. He still didn’t laugh it off. He jolted into motion, leaning jerkily closer, and Ron copied him, moving so slowly he felt like molasses, but cautious for Draco to halt and exclaim it a prank at any moment. But they were so close he could feel Draco’s breath against his mouth, see the silver flecks in his grey eyes, and watched as lids fluttered closed over the nervous gaze. Soft warm lips pressed delicately to his, and he let his own eyes fall shut, savoring the feeling of Malfoy kissing him. He was kissing him! He could feel his heart stuttering uncomfortably in his chest, and tilted his head a bit, letting their mouths brush across each other, and fitting his own perfectly into the curves of Draco’s. Malfoy’s parted slightly, and that was all the confirmation Ron needed. There was no way this was a joke. He pressed the kiss more firmly, and lifted a hand to cup the back of Draco’s neck. The blond was kissing him back, scooting closer, one hand resting timidly on Ron’s chest.
Ron pressed forward, and in his overeagerness accidentally knocked them both off balance. Draco’s hands balled into fists in his shirt, and Ron fell nearly on top of him, pausing to look down at the flushed face of his best friend. His lips were a slightly darker pink, his long hair fanned out over the mattress, and his chest was rising and falling with quick, nervous pants that held nervous laughter.
Ron pressed their lips together once again, letting his eyes fall closed as he enjoyed the sensation of soft kisses, and warm hands sliding around his waist, pulling him closer. It felt strangely natural to be atop him, kissing him, letting his hands trail through his hair, and down his chest. Any awkwardness he’d felt had vanished, leaving him with only a feeling of rightness, a sense that THIS was the only possible outcome after what they’d already shared.
It was obvious that Draco was just as eager as he was, his mouth teasing Ron’s even though his hands were gripping tightly and his whole body seemed to be trying to press up, closer into his partner’s own shape. His teeth pulled at Ron’s lower lip, his tongue played eagerly with the other, and as Ron let his weight down, pressing Malfoy into the bed, he was taken by surprise to feel that they were both hard. He thought back to what Draco had said about the rare occurrence, and pulled his lips away, unable to keep his thoughts to himself.
“Would you look at that? Seems to be working just fine, now…” Ron teased, letting his eyes fall to Draco’s pajama bottoms, making it blatantly clear what he was talking about. When he looked back up, Draco’s cheeks were dark pink, and his face held a mixture of embarrassment, and desire.
“Hm... Maybe I DO prefer men…” Draco tried to sound cavalier, but Ron could see the tension in every muscle of the blond’s body, every line of his face.
“Maybe you just prefer me.” Ron reflected, hearing the huskiness in his own voice, the cocky tone he wasn’t used to using making him feel a bit awkward as he pressed himself back to Malfoy, crushing their lips together.
They moved instinctively, hips curving into one another’s, hands exploring, testing for any boundaries. Ron was hesitant, almost expecting his hands to get slapped away, as Lavender always would, and was pleasantly surprised as Draco instead matched his eagerness. Pale hands gripped his bum, pulling him harder into the grinding motion, a soft groan of pleasure escaping his lips as he broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and let his forehead fall to Draco’s shoulder. One of his hands was under Draco’s shirt, savoring warm soft skin, the other was flat on the bed, bracing his weight as Draco guided the movement, kissing the redhead’s neck enthusiastically, giving a few nips and suckling gently on his pulse-point. He was much better at this that Ron might’ve guessed, and the redhead slid his hand downward, faltering only a moment at the edge of Draco’s pajamas. The cotton was soft against his hand, but the cock straining beneath was rock hard. Ron cupped it with his palm and rubbed, testing the feel of it, letting his fingers encircle what they could through the pants. He felt a heady rush of control as Draco seemed to lose his ability to function. His hands gripped Ron’s hair to pull him into a kiss that muffled the strangled sound of enjoyment that his throat was making, and his eyes were closed tightly, his whole body tensing as his cock twitched under Ron’s hand, and he let out a shuddering breath as Ron felt the wetness seeping through the cotton.
He’d just made Draco Malfoy cum. Through his pants. He looked down at the blond’s flushed face, and saw his eyes blinking open, a self-conscious look filling the silvery depths.
“Sorry…” He mumbled, his cheeks darkening under Ron’s scrutiny, his hands letting the red mane loose.
“That was…” Ron tried to articulate just what he thought of Draco’s performance, but couldn’t think of any words strong enough. He opted instead for pressing his lips to Malfoy’s in a passionate kiss, and pressing his own erection into Draco’s thigh, trying to relieve SOME of the pressure that snogging, and watching his orgasm had created.
* * *
Draco grinned into the kiss, and pressed at Ron’s shoulders forcing him to break the connection. Ron looked down at him inquisitively, and he felt his cheeks darken at his own thoughts.
“Can I try something?” He asked, fighting to keep his voice from breaking with anxiety. He and Ron had just made a huge leap, and he wasn’t quite sure exactly how far it had carried them. He was willing to push those boundaries, though, and find out exactly what Ron would be okay with, now that they seemed to be on the same page.
“Sure.” Ron agreed, following the direction of Draco’s hands. He rolled to the side, and lay flat on his back, staring up with curiosity as Draco pushed his shirt up, forcing him to sit back up briefly, so the garment could be removed.
Without a word, Draco tossed it aside, and leaned down, kissing Ron briefly, before he let his mouth trail lower, down the sandpaper jawline, and along the vein of his throat. He ignored the cooling wetness in his pajamas, and availed himself of the vast expanse of bare skin before him. Ron was lying there, unsure what to do with his hands, letting them ball into fists in the sheet as Draco slid his tongue in a circle around one of Ron’s small pink nipples. He was watching the blond with perverse fascination as he made his way lower, and lower, his eyes growing wider with every inch he descended. Draco kept glancing up at Ron’s face, gauging his reaction, ready to start back up at any sign of displeasure. He made it to the edge of Ron’s jeans unhindered, and reviewed the redhead’s expression. He looked simply amazed at Draco’s actions, and eagerly hopeful at what may have been yet to come. Malfoy smirked, keeping his eyes on Ron’s face as he unbuttoned the denim, and slid the zipper down. Ron’s breath was coming quicker, and his eyes darted from Draco’s eyes, to his hands, disbelief and anticipation warring on his features. With Draco’s face so close to his hardened cock, there was no doubt what he was hoping would happen, and Draco was pleased he didn’t seem at all repulsed by the idea.
With Pansy, he’d never wanted to go any further than necessary to keep up the charade of their relationship. With Ron, he wanted to touch him, kiss him, and by Merlin, he wanted to make Ron’s eyes roll back in his head, and watch as he came. He was curious what it would feel like to have an erection that wasn’t his in his hand, what it might be like to feel it against his tongue.
His felt his cheeks flaming at the thought of what he wanted to do. Was he really so much more eager to touch another man than he had been to touch even himself? He really must prefer men, then, he thought, surprised by just how enthusiastic he felt to have a dick in his mouth. It wasn’t something he’d ever contemplated before Azkaban, and now, as he tugged Ron’s jeans and shorts out of the way, he could think of nothing else.
The stiff column sprang free from its confines, and Draco unconsciously licked his lips, smiling slightly at the sight before him. It was dark pink, curved upward slightly, and twitched under Draco’s gaze. He took it in one hand, testing the feel of it, the weight, the softness. It was slightly longer than his own, but a near match for thickness, the uniformity of its girth strange for him. His own was slightly larger at the center, the gentle swell unhidden by the straight line it liked to stand in.
He pumped the shaft a few times, and watched as Ron closed his eyes, and tilted his hips into the motion. Now he understood the strange look on Ron’s face just before he’d reached his own orgasm. Making someone writhe with pleasure was exhilarating, and he was keen to coerce Ron into making the same uncontrolled cries of ecstasy he had.
Ron’s eyes were still closed as Draco wrapped his lips around the tip of his hard-on. The groan that followed made Draco fight to keep his face from a smile, and he stroked the underside of the head with his tongue, tasting the hot flesh, the slightly salty flavor of precum. It wasn’t at all as bad as he’d feared it might be, and he took the shaft deeper into his mouth, pressing his whole tongue into the movement, wetting the dry skin for his lips to slide more easily over. Ron was muttering some half-baked swears, and Draco felt a surprised elation as hands slid into his hair, guiding his head where Ron wanted it. He let himself be pulled further and further in, and felt the tip of the cock his his throat. He pulled away quickly, fighting the urge to gag, taking a deep breath to counter the strange sensation.
“Sorry…” Ron apologized in a low voice that sounded thick with desire, his hands sliding away. Draco shook his head, and offered a smile.
“I don’t mind. I’ve just never done this before, so…” He wasn’t sure what to say, HOW to say what he meant. He didn’t mind Ron’s enthusiasm, but he didn’t particularly enjoy worrying he was going to vomit what little dinner he’d had.
“Me neither…” Ron concurred, smiling down at the blond who was still holding his cock. Draco lowered his head, deciding to avoid any awkward discussion by getting back to his mission. He had a redhead to make squirm.
Ron breathed out a sigh when Draco began licking and sucking his erection again, and after a few slow lengths of it, he slid one hand back to Malfoy’s head, but let him set the depth and pace himself. Draco pulled his head up, and suckled delicately at the head, letting his tongue swirl in a circle around the sensitive bulb. Ron groaned, fisting Draco’s hair in a not unpleasant way. It made the blond feel accomplished that he could get Ron to react so forcefully. The thought of Ron being even more assertive made his own cock begin twitching back to life. He could imagine the reckless Gryffindor throwing caution to the wind, and grabbing him with both hands, forcing his mouth down again, and again, urging him to go faster. He moved his head to his own fantasy, bobbing quicker and deeper, as Ron’s hips began pushing up into the motion, getting his cock even deeper into Draco’s mouth, providing even more fire to his fancy. Draco glanced up at the mindlessly blissful expression of Ron’s face, the slight arch of his neck, and the way his bare chest was rising and falling quickly with his breaths. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before, and he slid his mouth all the way onto Ron’s shaft, holding his breath against the choking sensation that made his eyes water.
“Bloody FUCKING hell!” Ron gasped, both hands now gripping Malfoy’s blond hair, holding him in place a moment longer, as his hips thrust up a few times, nearly fucking Draco’s throat. When he allowed Draco to pull back and gasp for breath, his eyes opened, and he looked down at Draco with a mix of guilt, and awe. Before he could offer another apology, Draco was once again sucking on the head of his cock, nearly worshipping the thing in appreciation. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, but the way Ron was manhandling him, cursing, and facefucking him made him even harder, himself. He’d never have allowed anyone to control him the way Ron did when he lost himself, and he never would have let a bloke nearly suffocate him, without consequence. It seemed Ron was bringing out all sorts of strange tendencies in him. Not only was he allowing it… He was enjoying it.
He slid a hand into his own cotton pants, and began stroking himself as he sucked Ron off, his arousal only creeping higher and higher as Ron seemed to take license from Draco’s response. He became even more forceful, his hands tightening nearly painfully in Draco’s hair, his arms forcing the head up and down at a pace Draco could barely keep up with. Draco felt his cock twitch with enjoyment in his hand as Ron held his lips to the base yet again, the rocking motions of his hips matched by Draco’s.
Draco felt his own climax start with Ron’s dick still firmly lodged between his tonsils, and he moaned around it as he came, the blood rushing through his ears almost masking the sound of Ron’s own pleasured growl. As he pumped the last few beads of cum from himself, he found his mouth suddenly void, and managed to pry his eyes open in time to see that Ron had pulled him forcibly from the shaft, and out of the line of his own orgasm. Hands still buried in his hair, Ron was arching his hips with each pulse of his member, each throb releasing a line of white across his stomach, and Draco fought the hold on his head, bringing his mouth back to the side of the shaft, licking firmly up the vein that trailed to the head, reaching the tip just as Ron relaxed, spent, and panting. Draco looked from his sated face, pulling his own hand free of his trousers, and then looked to the threads of semen right before his face. He kept moving forward, his tongue outstretched, his mind focused completely on Ron’s face as he licked up the still-warm trail. It was salty, and a bit bitter, but he pulled his tongue into his mouth, and swallowed, loving the way Ron’s wide-eyed stare was entirely carnal, despite that he’d just climaxed. Malfoy bit his lip, and slid all the way up Ron, pressing a kiss to his soft, plump lips.
He collapsed next to him, trying to catch his own breath feeling content, and… WARM. For the first time since he’d gone into Azkaban, he felt truly warm.
A/N: Thunderbird - welcome to the party! Hope these last few chapters don't let you down!
-Two more chapters left, guys! Hope you're ready for this loevely ride to come to an end in a couple weeks.
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The Hole