Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Hole	By : Tnteacups Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Draco/Ron Views: 7359 -:- 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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Everyone Thinks They Know

Ron woke, feeling warmer on the outside than usual. His face was pressed into a hard surface, his front pressed flush against a source of heat. He slowly opened his eyes, flexing his hand, and feeling the familiar hand still weaved with his.
He stretched slightly, blinking the sleep away, realizing that there was black under his face, instead of the white pillows of the previous morning. He shifted, looking up confusedly, to see what he was laying on.
The face above his was scrunched, and the eyes fluttering as Malfoy gradually woke up. Ron froze, recognizing that he was snuggled up right next to Malfoy, his face resting on the wool-covered shoulder.
“Mm, Good morning, dear.” Malfoy’s raspy voice teased, and he grinned down at the redhead cuddling him. Ron groaned, and rolled away, untangling his fingers, and laying on his back for a minute, as Malfoy stretched, next to him, clearing his throat from the sleepy phlegm.
“Sorry ‘bout that.” Ron mumbled, not feeling the least bit remorseful as Malfoy rolled to his side, and looked at him.
“Don’t be. It was warm.” Malfoy shrugged, and closed his eyes again, as though going back to sleep.
“Fine, I’m not sorry.” Ron admitted, his face burning, feeling glad that Malfoy’s eyes were closed. If it’d been anyone else, he’d be mortified, but somehow, he couldn’t quite muster the humiliation.
“Are you going to try breakfast again?” Malfoy mumbled sleepily.
“I don’t know. I feel hungry, but I’m not sure I really want to risk it.” Ron said, picturing Malfoy bent over the loo, the previous morning.
“I’m not. I figure I’ll work slowly up to eating more. For now, I’ll stick with dinner, maybe a snack later.” Malfoy planned, smiling to himself at his strategy.
“That’s a good idea. I guess I’ll try it.” Ron agreed, tucking his hands under his head, and closing his eyes.
“Are you still cold, Weasley?” Malfoy asked, his voice mildly curious.
“Same as before. Only on the inside.” Ron answered quietly, feeling his skin prickle with sweat as he lay under the blankets, trying not to shiver.
“Same here.” Malfoy remarked, shuffling for comfort. “I’m not sure the coat’s helping.”
“So take it off.” Ron suggested, ignoring the way the bed suddenly shifted and rocked, as the sounds of Malfoy pulling the wool layer off, and flopped back down, re-wrapping himself in the blankets quickly.
“Less constricting, but overall, it feels the same.” Malfoy grunted, shuffling uncomfortably under the blanket.
“So put on pajamas.” Ron suggested, smirking into the pillow. It was strange to feel like pajamas were frivolous, and stupid. He’d used to love them, but now, he just wanted to be as warm as possible.
“No, I wore pajamas for a year. I think I’ll skip them for awhile.” Malfoy snipped back, shuffling determinedly under the blanket, making the bed wiggle.
“What’re you doing?” Ron asked after a moment, feeling irritated with the constant movement. It was jostling him aggravatingly.
“Taking- this… damn- thing, off.” Malfoy huffed, his arm finally sticking out, dropping a clump of black to the floor. Ron stared, unsure which piece of clothing it’d been. He almost wanted to reach his hand out, and see for himself, but he clenched his fingers into a fist, instead.
“Taking what damn thing off?” He asked, lifting a brow at the now-comfortable looking Malfoy. At least, what little he could see of him.
“That shirt. It kept twisting around me, without the coat.” Malfoy replied, rolling onto his back, and sticking his bare arms on top of the blanket, leaving his whole face bare for once as he closed his eyes, and tried to rest.
Ron stared at him for a moment, taking in the sight of his thin, bony arms. He was even smaller than Ron was, the dark circles under his eyes seemed a sharp contrast to the pale skin and hair. The long hair that fanned across the pillow hadn’t darkened with the lack of sun, but rather seemed to be more platinum than ever, nearly silver in it’s lack of color. His high cheekbones were more prominent than ever, his lips pale, and cracked from the imprisonment, looking in places like he’d bitten at them, leaving dark pink scabs against the white skin.
His hands looked the same, curled into loose fists over the blanket, the familiar fingers scabbed, and calloused from gouging the wall. Ron remembered his nightmare of those hands talking, and shuddered, staring at them for a long moment, before reaching for one. Malfoy stayed still, eyes closed as Ron wrapped his fingers around the closest hand, and turned it over, completing the inspection he’d never gotten to finish. It didn’t look nearly so scary in the soft sunlight filtering through the curtains. It looked like a hand, abused, and rough, but by no means malicious, or creepy. He slid his fingers through Malfoy’s, satisfied when Malfoy’s cooperated, bending to match his own. Ron closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of contact, familiarity, and heat.
A soft knock at the door woke him, and he realized he’d fallen asleep. Malfoy groaned, squeezing his hand tighter, and rolling to his side, as though he could make the knocking person go away by ignoring them.
“Yeah?” Ron called, sitting up, as the door opened.
His dad stepped slightly in the room, looking around as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.
“Are you coming down for lunch, or would you like more sleep?” his dad asked quietly, taking in the sleeping Malfoy, and quickly noticing their connected hands.
“Eh, we’ll be down.” Ron said, deciding if it was lunch time, they should get up. His dad nodded, and with a smile, left the room, closing the door behind him. Ron felt his face flushing slightly as he realized he was still holding Malfoy’s hand, on top of the blankets. “Come on, time to get up.” Ron encouraged, untwisting his fingers, and slipping out of bed.
“No.” Malfoy sounded childish, and pulled the blankets right over his head. Ron chuckled.
“Fine, have more of lie in.” Ron mocked, pulling his leather jacket on, and heading for the door.
“Wait! I’m coming…” Malfoy grumbled, sounding ticked off, as he stuck his feet on the floor, and snatched up his shirt, pulling it on, and doing the buttons with unhappy fingers, mumbling to himself the whole time. Ron waited at the door for him, watching him cover his exposed ribs, and jutting collarbones, getting re-dressed in his vest, and coat, before trudging toward the door.
Ron laughed at the miffed expression on his face, and the bedhead that topped the nearly full suit. He almost told him to brush his hair, but kept his mouth closed, thinking it provided him a more relatable appearance than usual. Maybe seeing him so ruffled would endear him to the others.
They walked to the dining room, and chose a pair of seats, the only two still open next to each other. Malfoy kept his annoyed look in place as sandwiches were served, and accompanied by a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Malfoy sipped at juice, but made no move toward food. Ron grabbed a single triangle of bread and filling, and took an experimental bite.
“Uhg, oh, no. Gross.” He complained, swallowing the bite bitterly, and opening the sandwich to pull tomatoes off. He set them on the side of his plate, and took another bite, happier with this one. He really hated tomatoes. A pale hand stretched out, stealing one of the red circles of vegetable from his dish, and he watched in disgust as Malfoy stuck it in his mouth, and chewed.
“Wha?” Malfoy shrugged, narrowing his eyes, and taking the second, adding it to his mouth, daring Ron to say anything. Ron lifted his eyebrows, and turned to take a third bite of his sandwich, choosing to say nothing about the blond eating the horrendous discards. Malfoy ate nothing else, only drinking juice to wash down the tomatoes with. Ron set the sandwich down after his fourth bite, deciding not to push his luck. He got his own juice, and turned to Malfoy.
“Wanna play another game?” He challenged, pushing away from the table. No one said anything about the half-eaten sandwich, and only a few pairs of eyes followed them from the room. Ron tried to keep his face calm as his father studied them briefly, his own mouth full of food. He was certain his dad had noticed them holding hands, but was glad he hadn’t said anything. He didn’t want people to stare at him and Malfoy anymore than they already did. They all seemed absolutely astounded that he was actually friends with the Slytherin. It was as though they were waiting for him to laugh, and tell them he’d got them, and wasn’t it a hilarious joke? Well it wasn’t going to happen. He set the chess board up, looking over at Malfoy, who sat patiently, his annoyance seeming to have evaporated. Was Malfoy his new best friend? It seemed like it, they were hardly ever apart now. He just couldn’t stand to be too far from the only person who knew about his need to pick at things, to hide in the dark, to talk about what had happened, and make sure it wasn’t some imaginary hellish fabrication.
“Ready?” Malfoy asked, cracking his knuckles, and staring intently at the board.
“Yeah.” Ron said, moving a pawn. He was a little surprised that he felt so close to his old enemy, but he could barely even relate this Malfoy to the one from school. It was as though a different person was living in the same body. But was it even the same body? They’d both changed so much…
“Check.” Malfoy announced, slipping a rook up the board.
“Damn.” Ron said, moving the only available block into place, his bishop.
“Mate.” Malfoy beamed, taking the bishop, and leaving his king unguarded, and unable to move.
“Damn!” Ron repeated, inspecting the board. It really was. And in under an hour. “No fair, I was distracted.” Ron complained, setting the pieces up again.
“By what, Weasley? The color of the carpet? Can’t decide if it’s cream, or champagne?” Malfoy teased, grabbing his own pieces to reset, eager for another round.
“It’s whiteish.” Ron shrugged, and glared at his friend. “And no, not by the carpet.”
“Well, better focus this time, It’d be a shame if I whooped you twice in a row.” Malfoy smirked.
“Oh, you wish.” Ron scoffed. A light glared on overhead, and both boys blinked, looking around. Mr. Weasley had entered the room, his hand on the lightswitch. Ron hadn’t even realized the light wasn’t on, so much sun coming through the thin curtains that he could see perfectly.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” He said, taking a seat behind Ron again, ruffling his hair.
“No, you didn’t. It’s fine.” Malfoy said stiffly, his earlier smile slipped from his face, but his lips trying to curl back up, fakely.
“Good. Mind if I watch? Oh, you’re restarting? Who won?” Mr. Weasley blabbered, looking happily around.
“I did.” Malfoy said, a familiar smirk in place, and he gave Ron a gloating look. Ron made a face, and moved a pawn.
“Oh, that’s very good.” Mr. Weasley congratulated the blond, his eyes watching as slim white fingers moved a black piece. As they got further into the game, Bill joined them, sitting next to his father, and occasionally glancing at the board as he looked over what appeared to be a map. Though it wasn’t a map of anywhere Ron recognized.
“Check.” Malfoy said, looking smug.
“Ha, checkmate.” Ron replied, moving his king, and opening a path from his bishop, to Draco’s king. Malfoy peered closer, he was surrounded by a bishop, a pawn, and Ron’s queen. Damn.
“‘No fair, I was distracted’” Malfoy mimicked Ron. Ron sniggered, and Bill looked between them, as though deciding whether to call out Malfoy or not.
“Fair enough.” Ron said.
“Before you two start again, could I have a word, Ron?” Bill said, giving Malfoy a look that said ‘without you’.
“Sure.” Ron said, standing, and rubbing his bum, which had fallen asleep as they played.
He followed his brother into the hallway, and halfway up the hall, away from the sitting room, where anyone could hear.
“I know he answered those question under Veritaserum, but are you SURE you can trust him?” Bill asked bluntly, “Are you sure he’s not going to have another change of heart?”
“I’m sure.” Ron said, fixing his older brother with a confident look. “He’s changed, Bill. He acts like a prat, because none of you are even trying to give him a chance, but when you’re not around, he’s a totally different person. He’s not one of them anymore.” Ron defended his friend. “If you can trust Snape, why not Malfoy?”
“Snape has proven himself. He changed sides a long time ago. Malfoy, I’m not sure about. I just… Don’t want you to get hurt for trusting him.” Bill said, sounding more worried than Ron had ever heard his brother sound before.
“Bill. I swear. He’s different now. If he wasn’t before… Azkaban definitely did the job.” Ron whispered, trying to get his brother to understand. “You weren’t in there. You don’t know what it’s like. I do. And I trust him. He’s lost just as much as the rest of us, because of You-Know-Who. Please give him a chance?” Ron begged, knowing how much better off Malfoy’s mental state would be if he was given the benefit of the doubt. He might even start feeling like he deserved life. He’d managed to stop his breakdown yesterday, but Ron knew from experience that his self loathing was always just under the surface, waiting to spring, and consume him. He’d been privy to several similar fits while in his cell, except then, he hadn’t been able to do more than offer words of comfort, and distraction.
“I’ll try, Ron. But I don’t want him around Fleur. I wanted to talk to you about her for a minute, actually. I have something to tell you.” His face was turning up in a grin, and Ron felt Malfoy’s snarkiness come up in a reply.
“I already know you married her. I was there, Bill.” He joked, cutting through the tension he felt at Bill’s words.
“She’s pregnant. Ron, I’m going to be a dad!” Bill sounded like a little kid at christmas. Ron’s eyes bugged out of his head, and he gaped at his brother.
“She’s what?!” He asked, his voice carrying to the next room.
“Shh!” Bill hissed, eying the doorway through which Malfoy and their dad were waiting.
“She’s really gonna pop?” Ron asked rudely, thinking back, to how she was still the same size.
“It’s not that far along yet, but Mum, Ginny, and George know. I haven’t had a chance to tell dad. But that’s where they are, getting a different safe house ready, for her to go to, where she’ll be safe from the war. She’s going to live in America, at least until the baby’s born. After that, I’m not sure. I hope this damn war’s won by then.” Bill said, running a hand through his long red hair. Ron continued gaping at his oldest brother.
“Oh, shut your mouth, before a nargle flies in.” Bill said, shoving Ron’s shoulder playfully.
“You’ve been listening to Luna, too much.” Ron said, frowning at the mention of imaginary creatures. “But I’ll keep my mouth shut until you decide to tell dad.” Ron promised. “I guess you don’t want me telling Malfoy, either?”
“No, please. I don’t want too many people to know. It’s kind of… A secret. I don’t want them to become a target, if someone’s put under the cruciatus curse.” Bill said worriedly. Ron nodded, realizing why his brother had been acting so strangely, and threateningly. He was stressed about Fleur, and becoming a dad.
“Are you going to go with her?” Ron asked, feeling a bit jealous about being able to escape to America. Maybe they should all just leave. But no, they couldn’t. That would leave every muggle in Britain wide open to the dark wizards.
“No. Mum’s going to stay with her, and I’ll be able to visit, but Mostly I’ll be here, fighting, plotting…” Bill trailed off, and Ron nodded.
“Alright. Well, congratulations!” He said, slapping his brother on the arm jovially.
“Thanks. And thanks for keeping it quiet.” Bill said, ruffling his brother’s hair, and then pulling an amused face. “Is this a fashion statement, or do you need a haircut?” He asked, his hand leaving Ron’s hair.
“Oh, yeah. I meant to get help with that.” Ron said sheepishly, running a hand through his messy hair.
“Talk to Hermione, mum’s been teaching her all sorts of domestic spells, since she’ll be gone with Fleur.” Bill said,
“Alright, thanks, I will.” Ron said, giving his brother an appreciative smile, and heading back to the sitting room.
* * *
Malfoy watched his friend leave, slim fingers rubbing an obviously sleeping rear, as he followed his brother.
“So, Mr. Malfoy, I hear from Snape that you underwent an interrogation with Veritaserum?” Mr. Weasley asked, leaning back in the couch, and Malfoy fiddled with the carpet.
“I did.” Draco said shortly, keeping his eyes away from the older man’s. He really didn’t want to have this conversation again.
“So, can I ask.. are you and my son… more than friends?”
Malfoy’s head jerked up, and he stared at Mr. Malfoy with horror.
“What!?” He asked, feeling suddenly trapped in the bright room. “What do you mean?” He knew exactly what he’d meant, but couldn’t really believe Ron’s father was asking that.
“You and Ron seem very close. I was just wondering if… it went beyond friendship.” Mr. Weasley hedged, his own eyes avoiding Malfoy’s his fingers brushing imaginary dust from the couch.
“No!” Malfoy said, glaring at the elder. “Why would you think that?”
“Well… I saw you holding hands this morning.” He had the grace to sound and look mildly guilty. Draco huffed out his anger, and took a deep breath, trying to remember what he’d promised Ron last night. He’d try to be nicer.
“It’s not like that.” Malfoy said, his face burning bright red. “It’s just… something we do.”
“Ah. Well, they told me you two met in Azkaban, but that’s impossible. Could you elaborate, please?” He seemed genuinely intrigued, not blaming, or searching for a flaw in the story.
“Our cells were next to each other, and there was a hole in the wall.” Malfoy answered, feeling uncomfortable talking about it. He didn’t want to admit that they’d created the hole, that they’d held hands through it as they slept. That they’d cried together, with only that hole for comfort.
“Oh. I see.” Mr. Weasley said, not delving further into the subject, seeming to follow the silent rule of keeping most Azkaban experiences to one’s self. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m not trying to criticize. I’m grateful Ron had your company. You two seem to be better off for it.”
Draco watch Mr. Weasley for a second, studying his face, seeing only kindness, and a bit of shame.
“Thank you.” he finally replied, ducking his head, and trying to keep the redness from his face. Ron was lucky to have a father like him. Understanding, caring, and honest.
“You’re picking at the carpet.” Ron’s voice startled Malfoy, and he pulled his fingers up, looking at the small furrow he’d been trying to create, without paying attention. Ron sat back down in front of his dad, eyeing the chessboard for a moment, trying to decide on a new approach. Neither Draco, nor Arthur said anything about their conversation, or asked about Ron and Bill’s, each man absorbed in their own thoughts as Ron and Draco began their game.
Draco watched Ron’s face as they played, thinking over what his father had said. They were both better than they would have been if left totally alone. He remembered how very close to the brink Ron had been when he’d first talked to him. He’d seemed to think he was hearing voices, and was mumbling to himself, without even seeming to realize it. He hadn’t had the hole then. He’d only had his own guilt, and misery.
Malfoy thought about Mr. Weasley’s assumption, and felt bad for reacting so poorly. If he’d seen two blokes holding hands on a bed, he probably would’ve thought the same thing. Hell, he’d woken up with Weasley practically on top of him, didn’t that raise it’s own questions? Or was it even more curious that Malfoy hadn’t been at all upset by it? He’d actually rather enjoyed the feeling of Ron’s warmth, and the weight of his head. He’d never slept with anyone before, but he figured that there were apparently more reasons than sex to do so. The constant contact really was nice. Was that why everyone else seemed to actually show affection through touching, and hugging, and kissing? His parents hadn’t ever really been physically affectionate, besides his mother when he was a small child, but that had dwindled as he’d grown, until he was totally cut off from human contact, besides fighting, or the occasional snog with Pansy.
“Check.” Ron said, and Malfoy looked closely at the board, coming free from his confusing thoughts. He was almost trapped. He quickly found his way free, and turned the tables.
“Check.” He said, sliding his queen up the board.
“Check.” Ron replied smugly, taking the queen with his knight.
“Check.” Malfoy took the knight with a bishop.
“Check.” Ron took the bishop with a another. Malfoy squinted at the board, seeing a symmetry he hadn’t noticed before.
“It’s a stalemate.” He said, leaning back, and sighing. “We’ve done the exact same thing, there’s no winning.”
“What?” Ron sat up, looking at the top of the board. “Bloody hell.” He sat back down, glaring at the board as though it was at fault.
“Well done, boys.” Mr. Weasley said, his eyes darting to a clock on the wall. “I think dinner will be soon if you want to stop.”
“Great.” Malfoy said, stretching to his feet, and shaking his sleeping leg, wincing at the discomfort.
Ron stood, rubbing his bum again. Draco’s mind skipped to his dad’s assumption, and he yanked his eyes away from the movement. Malfoy leaned over, and cleared up the chessboard, folding it in half, and dumping the pieces inside.
“I’ll have to see if I can find you boys a Wizard’s Chess set.” Mr. Weasley said, following the pair from the room.
“That’d be great, dad!” Ron said enthusiastically. Malfoy agreed quietly, watching his feet as he walked, not wanting to look at either Weasley. He hadn’t really felt embarrassed by how close he and Ron had gotten, until his dad had misinterpreted it. But now, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, about how they touched, and joked, and how things would’ve been in Azkaban. He couldn’t stop thinking about if Mr. Weasley was right. Were they more than friends? He hadn’t thought so. Did he even fancy men? He hadn’t really thought about that before, being equally disgusted by both girls, and boys in school, his limited circle of friends not offering him much of a choice.
They sat down to a soup, with salad, and pieces of bread. Malfoy had a small bowl of soup, sipping it slowly through dinner, trying to actually pay attention to the conversations around the table, if only to distract himself from his uncomfortable inner reflection.
“Before you get full, I’d like you to drink this potion.” Snape said, sliding a small vial across the table to Malfoy. He slid identical ones to Ron, Neville, and Mr. Weasley.
“What is it?” Ron asked, eying the murky liquid dubiously. Malfoy didn’t care, he uncorked it, and downed it in a single gulp, barely tasting the fiery flavor.
“It’ll help you get your strength back.” Snape said dully, attending to his own dinner again. Mr. Weasley followed Malfoy’s lead, swallowing it down instantly, while Ron sipped at it, and Neville waited a few moments, watching Malfoy to see if there were any adverse effects, before taking his own.
“Ahh, it burns!” Ron gasped, setting the bottle down, and taking a swig of water.
“That’ll make it worse!” Hermione warned too late. Ron practically howled with discomfort, his eyes watering. Malfoy sniggered as Ron held his tongue out, dramatically fanning it.
“Oh, don’t be such sissy!” Bill called amusedly, a grin splitting his face.
“Thuddup, Biww!” Ron managed with his tongue out, and grabbed the bottle, downing the rest of it quickly with a face. A few others at the table chuckled, and Malfoy looked around, taking in how full it was for the first real time. With fourteen people, there wasn’t an empty chair at the large oval table, and almost every face was familiar. He wasn’t exactly sure who ‘Shroge’ was, but he seemed nice enough, and the other witch he didn’t know was about his parent’s age, and seemed somehow familiar. He caught her looking at him a few times, with a contemplative look. Perhaps she worked at the ministry, and knew his father, he decided. He took a sip of his soup, and looked back at Ron, forgetting for a moment how the sight of those blue eyes brought up confusing thoughts.
“How did you not feel that?” Ron asked, catching his eye, and nodding to the potion. Malfoy shrugged, looking away quickly, focusing on the grain of the table. No, he wouldn’t think about what Mr. Weasley had assumed. He wouldn’t over analyze the things they did. He liked doing them, and there was nothing wrong with it.
“I drank it too quickly to taste it.” He finally answered, and took another sip of soup. “I felt it in my throat a bit, but that’s it.”
“Lucky. It was awful.” Ron lamented, taking large spoonfuls of his own broth.
“Entertaining, though.” Malfoy teased, smirking.
“Shove off.” Ron glared at him, but his eyes sparkled good-naturedly. “Oh, that’s right. Hermione, could you fix my hair later?” He shot across the table.
“Of course.” Hermione said, smiling at him. Her eyes went from his, to Malfoy’s and he thought he saw something as she met his gaze. Was that… guilt? Jealousy? He couldn’t tell, but soon enough, she pulled her look away, and turned to chat with Snape.
“I figure it’s about time to get this sorted.” Ron said, touching his mess of hair. “She’d probably do yours, too, if you ask.”
“No, I think I like it.” Malfoy said, touching his own hair. He’d gotten used to feeling it brush his shoulders, face, and neck. It was finally long enough that it didn’t poke in his ears uncomfortably, or hang totally in his face. He swept it to the side, and it stayed, for the most part.
“I do too. It looks kind of fancy.” Ron said, eyeing it with a smile.
“Thanks.” Draco turned his head, purposefully giving it a small shake, so his hair fell as a curtain to hide his pink cheeks as he bent over his soup.
“Careful, or you’ll eat your hair.” Ron warned, chuckling at the thought. Draco grinned.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll have a nice wash before bed. I believe I’m expecting my wife tomorrow.” Mr. Weasley said, sounding excited, as he stood from the table. Malfoy watched him go, thinking a shower before bed did sound nice. Maybe he’d have one while Weasley got his hair fixed.
* * *
Ron watched Malfoy duck his head, hiding behind a curtain of blond. Was he… embarrassed? Ron smirked at the thought of compliments making the man uncomfortable, when he used to be so full of his own self that it was a wonder his head hadn’t exploded.
Malfoy was watching his dad leave, with a thoughtful look on his face.
“What’re you thinking?” Ron asked quietly, ducking the question under the other conversations, giving Malfoy the chance to answer, or decline, without drawing unwanted attention.
“I think I’ll have a shower, later, too.” He answered, his eyes glazing over slightly.
“Mm, does seem nice, doesn’t it. But weird though, that it’s just… there. Whenever you want.” Ron said, having forgotten that the shower even existed.
“A bit weird.” Malfoy agreed, his voice low, matching Ron’s. They sank into comfortable silence with each other, as the rest of the table finished dinner.
“I’m ready whenever you are, Ron.” Hermione said, pushing herself away from the table, and standing.
“Alright. Let’s do this.” He said, following her from the room. She led him into the kitchen, and conjured a chair for him to sit in. He sat without being told, feeling a bit nervous as she walked around him, inspecting his hair.
“I really wish you’d have asked before you went hacking at it.” she stated, running a hand through it, and pulling her wand out. “I’ll do my best, but I’m not as good as your mum.”
“Whatever is fine with me.” Ron said hastily, feeling a bit bad for making such a mess of his hair.
“Hold still.” Hermione advised, and he went rigid. He could feel her shuffling through his hair with her wand and fingers, trimming his hair silently as he sat stock-still.
“I actually wanted to talk to you, Ron.” She said from behind him, making him instantly nervous. He’d been hoping this conversation wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about the kiss they’d shared in the Chamber of Secrets. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about her, and after spending a year in Azkaban, he wasn’t sure if he even deserved to feel for her, at all.
“About what?” Ron forced himself to ask, swallowing the anxiety down.
“About… Us.” Hermione confirmed his fears.
“Hermione…” He started, but was silenced quickly.
“Please, Ron, I’ve got to say this.” She waited, to see if he’d still avoid the conversation.
“Alright.” He finally agreed, trying to tamp down his nerves.
“I know we… kissed. And I don’t know what happened in Azkaban… but it’s been nearly a year since then, and… A lot’s changed, Ron. I don’t want to hurt you, but… I also can’t stand lying to you. So, here it is: I’m seeing someone.”
Ron sat frozen, thinking that over as she continued trimming his hair, waiting for a response. He felt a stab of jealousy, but it went away quickly, as he thought harder. He didn’t have to figure out how he felt about her, after all. She’d already made a decision.
“That’s nice. Good.” he said, deciding that he wouldn’t be difficult about it. There was already enough stress, and he needed to fix himself.
“Are you… are you upset?” She asked, her wand dropping away from his hair, as she rounded the chair, to look him in the face.
“No. A bit surprised, but I’m not mad or anything. I wasn’t really thinking about… relationships, while I was in there.” He said, remembering how he hadn’t even thought he’d live beyond the walls. He’d planned to die, and hadn’t thought about what would’ve happened if he’d gotten out.
“Oh. Well, I guess that’s… good?” She seemed uncertain, and lifted her wand to fix his fringe.
“Who is it?” Ron asked, curiously, remembering Dean, and feeling like he wouldn’t be so upset at that. Dean was a good guy.
“It’s… um…” she quickly finished his hair, and stood back a step, inspecting him for a moment, before answering, making his curiosity and nervousness grow with every second. “It’s Snape.”
“Who?” She’d been barely loud enough to hear, but he’d thought he heard ‘Snape’. What a laugh that’ve been.
“I’m dating Snape.” She said more confidently. He blinked at her, his smile falling, realizing she was totally serious.
“You’re… not joking.” He said, feeling distaste set in. “What do you mean, ‘dating’? Not like, actually boyfriend/girlfriend, snogging and- and… You can’t be serious!” Ron said, standing from the chair, unable to believe it. Sure, he’d proven to be on their side, but he was still a slimy git. And he was at least twice her age.
“I am serious. We’ve been on the run together since the battle. I found him in the shrieking shack, and saved his life. Since then, we just… got closer.” She shrugged, as though it was no big deal. “We actually have quite a lot in common.”
“And what about the things that aren’t ‘in common’? Like your age?” Ron shot at her, feeling horrified at the thought of her with Snape. She HAD to be joking.
“That’s something for he and I to work out, if it ever becomes an issue.” Hermione said, her voice steely.
“But, but… He’s… Snape!” Ron was still unable to wrap his head around it.
“What about you and Malfoy? Is that any less surprising that Severus and I?” She asked, her cheeks flaming.
“Malfoy and I aren’t… dating.” Ron said, unable to help the frown that came over his face as he once again thought of Hermione dating Snape. Calling him Severus.
“Really?” Hermione seemed genuinely confused by his statement, and he paused his bickering to realize what she’d just implied.
“Wait… You thought… He and I…?”
“Well, you two are… rather close.” Hermione said, her brow furrowing as she tried to be tactful. Ron felt his face burn, recalling how he’d woken up that morning, cuddled right up to the blond.
“Well, you’re wrong. We’re just friends. There’s nothing funny going on between us!” Ron denied adamantly, his face turning a bright scarlet as he thought more about how he and Malfoy had been rather physical since getting out. But holding hands, and accidentally rolling against him in his sleep didn’t count as ‘dating’. Though, it might fit into ‘more than friends’. He shook his head free of the thought.
“Oh really? Nothing funny? Your face says you’re lying.” Hermione noted, smirking, and leaning back against the sink. “Also, I should probably warn you, I’ve been learning legilimency from Severus this past year. I can definitely tell there’s something there.”
Ron’s face flamed so hard, he felt his ears burning with the blush.
“That something might be Azkaban. It might be horrible experiences that no one else but him knows about! It might be a year of having only him to talk to, and not whatever you seem to think it is.
“Alright, alright. I’m sorry, okay?” Hermione said, suddenly contrite, as he breathed heavily. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… wanted to be clear where things stood.”
“Right. Thanks for the haircut, I think I’ll go have a shower.” Ron grumbled, and left the kitchen, feeling embarrassed, and guilty for exploding at her like that. It wasn’t her fault that he and Malfoy had spent so much time alone together. She didn’t know about the hand-holding, or the cuddling. She didn’t know about the crying, or the humiliating secrets they’d shared. He couldn’t blame her for trying to define in normal terms something that was so very far from normal. He shuffled up the stairs, and found the bathroom door shut, the sound of water running inside. He went to his bedroom, and paused at the door. He flipped the light on, and sat in a plush chair near the closet. He could at least be a bit normal again. Or at least, he could pretend he didn’t want to hide under the blankets in the dark, until Malfoy came back.
Maybe Hermione had been right. Maybe there was more there than he’d been seeing. He wondered if anyone else saw them like she did. She’d probably told Snape, he thought bitterly. He scratched at his neck, feeling an irritating itch under his collar as he contemplated what Hermione had said. Did he fancy Malfoy like that? He hadn’t ever thought about it, but he did enjoy holding hands. And yes, he admitted to himself, he’d enjoyed the feeling of sleeping against him. Would he enjoy more? Did he want to kiss Malfoy? Ha, that was a funny thought. Kiss Malfoy. He laughed to himself, and sighed. He just wasn’t sure. The idea didn’t immediately repulse him, like Snape and Hermione had. Maybe he was interested in Malfoy. He scratched his neck again, feeling the itch migrating to his shoulders. The damn hairs from his haircut were getting on his nerves.
“What’re you thinking about?” He jumped, looking up to see that Malfoy had entered the room without him noticing, and was halfway across the floor, with a towel held around his hips.
“I was just thinking that I need a shower. There’s hair leftover, and it’s itchy as hell.” Ron said, trying to shove down his thoughts before that. He couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling briefly down Malfoy’s torso, trying to puzzle out whether he found him attractive. He just looked thin, and fragile. Breakable.
“Well, better hurry before someone else steals it.” Malfoy said, nodding to the door as he opened the closet, and stepped inside. Ron stood, and went to the bathroom, turning the water on, and pulling his shirt and jacket over his head, before pausing, to inspect his new hair. It was much more even, and looked nearly like a real hairstyle. He shrugged, and dropped his jeans, stepping into the warm shower, and letting the water wash the tickling hairs from his shoulders, and face. He couldn’t wash his conversation with Hermione away, though, and it kept swirling around in his head. He should apologize to her tomorrow, he decided.
* * *
Draco stepped into the room, and saw Ron sitting in the chair, looking deep in thought, his brow scrunched. His hand lifted, and he scratched the back of his neck. His haircut looked better, much more even.
“What’re you thinking about?” Draco asked, fighting a smirk when Ron jumped nearly a foot in the air.
“I was just thinking that I need a shower. There’s hair leftover, and it’s itchy as hell.” Ron replied. Draco lifted an eyebrow, doubting that that was really it. He didn’t say anything about it as he walked toward the closet, but he saw Ron’s eyes dart down, looking him over. He thought back to what Mr. Weasley had said. Did Ron think he was attractive? His eyes held none of the familiar lust that Draco knew girls’ used to have when looking at him.
“Well, you better hurry before someone else steals it.” He said, tilting his head toward the door, and disappearing inside the closet. Weasley had just looked at him. Just looked, that was all. So why couldn’t he shake the conversation he and Mr. Weasley had had? He didn’t think of Ron like that. Or at least, he hadn’t before. But since that ginger man put the thought in his head, it’d been rather hard NOT to think of his friend in a more than friendly way.
He pulled down a pair of black jeans, and a matching t-shirt, and boxers. He pulled them on before looking for a jacket to cover his already chilled arms. He found a hoodie with black and grey stripes, and pulled it on, chuckling to himself as he finally donned his Azkaban Prison stripes. He slid into the bed, leaving the light on for Ron, as he tried to get comfortable. The jeans weren’t as soft as the slacks had been, but they were warmer. He lay there, nearly comfortable, when he felt his toes start to get cold. He groaned, rolling his eyes as he realized he’d have to get up to get socks.
The door opened before he could actually get up, and he sat up, watching Ron enter, in his own towel, his hair still dripping.
“Did you dry your hair at all?” Malfoy asked, his eyes doing the same as Ron’s, traveling down the long torso, trying to decide if he really did like his friend. His whole chest was covered with water droplets. “Or any of the rest of you?” Malfoy added, as Ron threw him a nasty look.
“I dried off.” He said, though Draco wasn’t sure if he believed it or not. He yanked the closet open, and stepped inside.
“Can you toss me some socks?” He called, hoping he didn’t have to get up. Ron stuck his head out, grinned, and then disappeared for a half second, reappearing, and tossing a tiny wad at Draco. He picked up the socks from the bed, and made a face at the bright yellow color. He pulled them on, regardless, his feet too cold to argue about aesthetics.
“Thanks.” He called sarcastically to the closet, glaring at his toes for a minute, encased in mustard yellow cotton.
“No problem.” Ron called back, laughing quietly. Malfoy snuggled back into the bed, and tried not to think about his conversation with Mr. Weasley. He was about to be in bed with Ron, and didn’t want to be thinking about anything awkward while forced into such close proximity.
Ron came back out of the closet, and Malfoy grimaced at the outfit he’d chosen. Blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and a hideous yellow cardigan. Malfoy saw black socks on his feet as he slid into the bed, and glared across at the prank. Was Ron trying to get him to ask to switch? He frowned harder, determined not to, even though their socks would be better matched on each other. He fought back the demand, and tried to wipe the frown from his face, as Weasley turned toward him.
“Something wrong, Malfoy?” Ron egged, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“That sweater is awful.” Malfoy said, his lip lifting with distaste.
“I like it.” Ron argued, looking his sleeve over with affection.
“That says more about your taste than the sweater.” Malfoy noted, instantly hating the twisty square pattern woven into it.
“Get bent.” Ron said with no real annoyance, scooting around, until he was finally comfortable. Malfoy watched from his blanket cocoon as Ron settled in, tucking his hands under the pillow, and eyes closed.
“What about the light?” Malfoy asked, waiting ‘til he’d stopped moving to mention it.
“Oh, right.” Ron groaned, and slid from the bed. Draco grinned, glad that he didn’t have to move from his comfortable position, and he got Ron back a bit for the sock antics. The lights clicked off, and he heard Ron shuffling back to the bed, his feet practically dragging as he made his way across the room.
“Forget how to walk, Weasley?” Malfoy teased, as Ron climbed under the blanket, and rolled to face him.
“No, just something I learned from the twins.” He could hear the grin in his voice, and narrowed his eyes at the dark lump of his friend. Ron’s hand darted out, and pressed into his forehead.
“Ow!” Malfoy yelped, feeling the shock tingle for a split second. Ron chortled, and pulled his hand away. “What’d you do?” Malfoy asked, running a hand over his forehead. Had he done wandless magic and hexed him?
“I just shocked you. It’s just something that happens if you slide socks over carpet. The twins used to do it all the time to me. I think Bill and Charlie used to do it to them.” Ron mused, his voice holding traces of his amusement.
“That’s strange, and cruel.” Malfoy said, dropping his hand from his face.
“I suppose.” Ron said, shrugging, still smiling.
“It’ll work on anyone?” Malfoy asked, suddenly feeling inspired.
“Yeah.” Ron said, grinning wider at Draco’s enthusiasm. They fell into silence as Malfoy schemed, wondering if Bill would hex him for doing it. Ron was definitely going to get it. And maybe Dean Thomas, too. Or the know-it-all Granger.
“What are you thinking about?” Ron asked, in the dark, his voice a whisper.
“Do you think your brother would hex me if I shocked him?” Malfoy asked, snickering at the thought. He’d been nothing but rude, anyway.
“Nah, not unless you do it a lot. He’s usually pretty easy-going…” Ron said, trailing off at the end.
“What changed?” Malfoy asked, hearing the hesitation. Ron was quiet for a long moment.
“I’m not supposed to tell you. He made me promise.” Ron sounded sheepish, and apologetic.
“Oh. That’s okay.” Malfoy said, deciding not to press the issue. “What about you? What are you thinking about?”
“Something Hermione said while cutting my hair.” Ron mumbled, suddenly even more reluctant.
“What’d she say?” Malfoy asked, feeling nervousness twist in his gut. Were they getting back together? He felt a bit jealous at the thought, thinking about how Mr. Weasley had just put the thought in his head, and he’d had no time to even figure it out.
“She’s… dating Snape.” Ron said.
“What!?” Malfoy exclai
med, disturbing the still room with his loud voice, a bit of relief mixing with his disgust.
“That’s what I said!” Ron agreed. Malfoy tried not to think about that at all. Severus Snape dating was not a pleasant image. Especially if that meant what he thought it meant. But Granger and Snape both seemed like the kind to sit around, reading, and call it a date. He didn’t truly believe that either could really be a sexual being.
“Ugh.” Malfoy garbled, and then brought his thoughts back to his companion. “And what about you? Do you still fancy her?” he hoped Ron couldn’t hear the mild envy in his voice.
“I don’t know.” Ron said. “I hadn’t really thought much about it, and now… Just… ew.”
“Yeah, Snape’s relationships are not something I want to think about.” Draco intoned. They sank into silence for a moment, and Draco felt his fingers twitching with the need to scratch. He gave in, scraping his nails against the bed, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling.
“You’re scratching.” Ron announced.
“I know.” Malfoy sighed, laying his fingers flat on the sheet, and resisted the urge once more. He felt the blanket shift, and Ron’s hand found his, his palm enveloping the addicted fingers. “Thanks.” Malfoy said, the urge so much easier to control with his hand otherwise occupied.
“I know.” Ron echoed, his own fingers knowing all too well the need to dig. Malfoy twined his fingers in and around Ron’s calming them with the new type of fiddling. Before long, he heard Ron snoring softly, completely unbothered by the gentle motion of his hand. Draco paused his movement, considering his friend’s effortless sleep. He wiggled the fingers again, but Ron slumbered on, unaware of the action. Draco scooted closer, moving their hands from his path as he lie practically in the middle of the large bed. He stared over at Ron, clutching his fingers nervously. Was he really thinking about this? What was so weird, anyway, neither had really been bothered by it that morning…
He let go of the fingers, carefully extricating his own, and slipped his arm slightly under Ron’s pillow. He held his breath, terrified that Ron was going to wake up at any moment, and get upset with how close he was. He waited a few moments, and extended his right arm, softly touching Ron’s shoulder. Ron twitched slightly, but his snores didn’t stop, his face still relaxed. Malfoy pulled slightly at his shoulder, encouraging him to roll forward. Ron was easily manipulated, rolling forward with a small grunt, his whole arm flopping across Malfoy, as his head pressed into the pillow, right next to Draco’s face. Finally, the blond closed his eyes, pleased with the warmth covering him, and leaving his own hand on Ron’s shoulder, his fingers soaking up the body heat. He was only awake a few moments longer to wonder if he enjoyed the feeling more than he should. Dreams took him swiftly, and he could worry no longer.
* * *
A/N: Completely finished writing this fic, now just to finish uploading. This chapter is about halfway to the end.
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The Hole