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Sex, Drugs and Death Eater Rock	By : Icarus Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 2854 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Copyright 2005 by Icarus Ancalion. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced in whole or part without the author's explicit permission. Ask, guys. I'm easy to reach and usually quite generous.

Sex, Drugs and Death Eater Rock
by Icarus

Prologue from Ron:

Look, when you read this... well, first off, is there any chance you're not
going to read this?

Yeah. Thought not. But a bloke can hope, right?

Anyhow, before you read this you have to understand, there are circumstances, you see, reasons for, um, all this. I've explained before in 'Beg Me For It' (good title, right?), so I'm not gonna go through all that again, about Draco and how everything started. So just read that first, okay?

Yeah, I said Draco. You know, Draco Malfoy? Oh, you're surprised that I call him Draco?

Well, yeah, we're sorta on a first-name basis now. Heh. Better be.

Anyway, he and I, we really didn't think we'd live and all, and so well, who knew the lengths he'd go to just to repay a favour? Of course saving his life was one hell of a favour, but - we did some pretty crazy things, alright? Not that I regret them or anything, not at all actually...

...oh God.

Just don't tell Harry? Please?

~*~*~

Ron awkwardly balanced bags of this week's rations on his knee. He cursed his rotten luck to be saddled with a roommate who probably heard him, but was too lazy to answer the door.

Dammit, Draco, he thought as he knocked again, catching a slipping bag. Get the fucking door if you can't be bothered to pick up the food.

Just for this, Ron decided to keep the strawberries for himself. His Section had earned them, after all. He and Draco may be under house arrest at the Death Eater-run Ministry, but the Minister of Magic, Lucius Malfoy, found little ways to reward good performance.

Ron pounded on the door again. Sometimes he thought he was planning the death of the wrong Malfoy. Even if Draco was on his side, and instrumental to his plan.

All he wanted was dinner (he'd cook because Draco was hopeless in the kitchen), a drink, a quick shag if Draco was in the mood, and then bed. A simple plan really, but pretty much everything Ron liked was simple.

A crying shame that Draco was probably the most complicated person in the world.

As his keys rattled in the lock, Ron promised himself he would ignore any mess Draco had made today. He'd had enough headaches. Ron supervised Lucius' staff and unfortunately, someone had discovered they had an embezzler and dropped the problem in his lap. The paper trail led in a circle. Whoever it was, they were pretty smart.

No strawberries for his performance next week, that was for sure.

The stubborn Muggle lock - prisoners weren't allowed magic - finally gave. Ron kicked open the door and loud Muggle rock blared from his quarters into the hallway. Ron bobbled his packages and caught them against the doorjamb.

What the hell?

"Close the door, you idiot!" Draco shouted over the noise. "We're not allowed music!"

No shit, Malfoy.

Ron elbowed the door shut and stared open-mouthed at the disaster that was once his tiny flat. The beige sofa, beige carpet and blocky furniture were eyesores, sure, but it was home. He set down the packages. Ron vaguely remembered peaceful days, before Draco moved in.

He had saved Draco's life for this?

A long rack dominated one wall, occupying half the living room. It was filled with unfamiliar brightly coloured clothing. Various Muggle garments were scattered haphazardly all over the ugly sofa. The dining table in the corner had row upon row of little plastic baggies, neat lines of colourful pills, and an astonishing display of bottles - obviously contraband booze. There were tiny bottles of who-knew-what, and a long black plastic monstrosity on the kitchen counter that blasted music at full volume.

In the middle of all this was a shirtless Draco Malfoy, dancing. He held a glass with clinking ice in one hand, and twirled a very illegal item in the other.

"Where the fuck did you get a wand?!" Ron squawked.

"WHAT??!"

"WAND?! WHERE? Turn that shit down!" Ron yelled, gesturing to make his point.

Draco seemed to understand, set down his drink, then picked up a black square device. He pointed it at the box and the music hushed.

"WHERE DID -" Ron lowered his voice. "Where did you get a wand and do you realise just where you - and me not incidentally! - could end up if you're caught with it?! Did you Accio this rubbish?"

Draco snorted. "I'm not so stupid, ol' Ronnie boy. I was just... holding it a little. Don't worry, don't worry, I haven't set off any wards." He put the wand away in a slim box, and waved a hand at the rest. "As for where I got it, sooner or later you will learn there is nothing that can't be bought. But everything here's Muggle. Can't be tracked magically. Including the music." Draco turned the music back up a bit and returned to dancing.

This was not reassuring.

"Black Market? You have Muggle Black Market goods?!"

"They're hot too, I think."

"Stolen?!"

"I think the phrase the gentleman used was they 'fell off the truck.' I can't be held responsible for such carelessness. Here. Have a drink." Draco handed Ron his glass. Ron downed the remainder of Draco's drink in one gulp, choking a little. What was this stuff? He was afraid to ask about the baggies and pills. If they were caught with this....

"I figured I should try out what I sell," Draco said, an eager light in his eyes.

"Percy said he might come over tonight..." Ron whimpered.

"Oh good! A par-tee!" Draco bobbed his head in time with the music.

Uh-oh. Ron had a sudden suspicion about the contents of those baggies. "What are these pills?"

"Pretty, aren't they? I took them all out to gloat."

"They have little bunnies on them...."

"Ecstasy! Such a good name for them, too." Draco draped himself over Ron happily, still dancing, his shoulders pulsing with the music. "You're wonderful you know that, Ron? You're so... warm... and snnnnnuggly... and so fanfuckingresponsible... and so fanfuckingtastic id...d..."

"Muggle drugs. You're selling Muggle drugs," Ron said in a flat voice.

"Not yet, not yet. So far I'm just taking them. This is an investment, Ron. Here," Draco spun away and shoved a fistful of pills across the table, "have twenty. I owe you everything..." he purred.

"Where'd you get the money for all this?"

"I didn't. You did. Your department made a generous donation to the cause."

"You - you're the one -!"

"I'd buy you diamonds but you'd look like shit in them... lapis... or maybe sapphires... yeah..." Draco wandered over to the booze and poured another glass of amber liquid.

"You're embezzling from my department!" Ron exploded.

"Pbbblt." Draco made a rude noise and crossed the room to Ron. He could almost walk a straight line. "Embezzling from Death Eaters isn't a crime. It's a victory! Now this," Draco stuffed the tinkling glass of amber liquid into Ron's hand, "this is the good stuff, not the shit Percy has. Bloody Lucius doesn't give him anything really yummy."

"Yummy'?" Ron echoed.

"B'sides, we're planning to bloody kill Lucius, and you're worried about trivialities like 'bezzlement?"

"Why do you always call him Lucius?"

" 'S a little hard to kill Daddy, don't you think?" Draco did a quick dance step, hands over his head. "I love this song. Beautiful, just fucking beautiful. Look, we're likely dead any day now, Ron. Let's live a little."

It was hard to argue with that logic, even coming from Draco. Some days Ron couldn't believe their insanity. Two nineteen year-old wizards, barely out of Hogwarts, plotting to take out the head wizard of Voldemort's organisation. The Minister of Magic. Lord of Magic, rather; Ron kept forgetting the new title. They were barking mad.

Ron slumped to the sofa and kicked off his shoes, undid and tossed the Ministry tie to the floor. Ministry life was dreary even before he worked for Death Eaters, and the idea of it being all he knew till he died was just... horrible.

Ron took a good swig of the drink Draco offered, and choked. Whoa.

Draco leaned against the sofa and grinned fiercely down at Ron. "That'll bring back the dead."

"This is great stuff," Ron admitted as he coughed. "Makes Percy's taste like rat piss. But I'm gonna have Lucius blowing smoke up my arse all week..." he moaned. He puffed out a sigh. "Oh, well. What the hell. If you hadn't told me I would never have found you out. I've been over those records a million times already. You're a complete arsehole, you know that?" And a brilliant one.

"I love you, Ronnie..." Draco nuzzled Ron's hair.

Ron batted him away. "You are high."

Draco ignored him and danced to the middle of the room, his eyes shut in bliss as he bobbed his head in rhythm to the music, glass in hand. Tendrils of white-blond hair fell onto his face as he drank in the heavy beat. Draco turned suddenly on his heels, subtle as a cat. His shoulders moved as if pulled by the thread of the Muggle rhythm. Ron's eyes widened. Wow. Draco could dance. Shirtless, he rolled his shoulders, and his chest followed the motion in subtle thrusts, supple and sensual. He was covered in a faint sheen of sweat; a drop trickled down his back. Draco moved his hips in a steady rolling rhythm that was really hot. Ron goggled. Draco dancing was, uh, really something, but without a shirt he was practically pornographic.

Ron took a long pull of his drink. "You're fucking sexy..." he said in a rough voice.

"Tell me something I don't know," Draco drawled over his shoulder with a subtle smile, not missing a step.

"You've a nice arse."

"Know it."

"You're an idiot." Ron shook his head with a laugh as he took another drink.

"Hey! Does someone want to continue sleeping with me?"

"Oh, right, as if you could ever stop," Ron chuckled, watching Draco under lowered eyelids. Shag first, or dinner? There were advantages to both.

"True enough. There's only the one bed."

Ron stretched, and folded his arms behind his head with satisfaction. "It's only practical. Convenient, you might say."

Draco gave him a doubtful smirk, tongue-in-cheek. "Right. Of course."

Ron kicked some Muggle clothes out of his way and put his feet up on the couch, sinking into it. Shag later. He was tired. Maybe he'd even risk Draco's cooking... no, no, that was certain death. Probably deliberate on his part too, just to convince him never to ask again. Draco was completely useless.

Draco turned the music up a bit more, set his glass down and danced at a frenetic pace. Where did he get all the energy?

"Nice floor show," Ron commented, resting his glass on his chest. The Muggle booze was already giving him that warm glow. Booze first. Yes. That was a good decision.

"Well, I don't like being the entertainment. Get up here." Draco hooked a finger at him.

Nice try, Draco. "No way. I don't dance."

"Learn, or I'll have nothing to do with you otherwise," Draco said, shoulders moving in time with the music. He tugged on Ron's arm. "Up. I refuse to live with a wet blanket."

Huh. Like Draco had any choice in the matter.

"C'mon... you need to get that stick out of your arse," Draco said, pulling again, this time with all he had. He was not strong, and Ron was a good deal taller and more solid besides, but he dragged Ron halfway off the couch anyway.

"NO!" Ron yanked himself free, spilling his drink. He sat up and shook his dripping hand. "Dammit..."

"Fine. Watch me then."

"Gladly." Ron wiped at his shirt, called it a lost cause, and pulled it off. He tossed it vaguely at Draco then settled back on the couch. Draco ignored the missile.

"Dancing..." Draco explained in a philosophical tone as he turned away, " 'S like sex you see..." He did some more of those shoulder moves that really looked good without a shirt. The irritating, irresponsible, worthless prat.

"How?" Ron scowled. "Look. I don't dance, Draco. Not without a Tarantallegra Curse."

"C'mon... I've slept with you. You have natural rhythm. Very, very natural." Draco tossed his hair. "I'm too high to laugh at you, Weasley-luv."

Love? Luv? Ron squinted at Draco.

Ron gave up, knowing Draco would pester him all night anyway. When he got an idea in his head, he never let go. Ron set down his drink and allowed himself to be pulled up into Draco's arms. He watched Draco suspiciously. But the ferret was as good as his word, and didn't laugh. So far. Ron blushed.

"Here. Watch this," and Draco did some of those hip moves.

" 'Looks hot," Ron said, eyeing him up and down cautiously.

"So do it. Stand right behind me and follow what I do..." Draco pulled Ron into his back and demonstrated. Ron felt oddly dizzy in this position, partially due to the booze he supposed. Should've had dinner first. But that move -

" - thrusting like that? That's disgusting!" Ron was horrified.

"You liked it a minute ago."

"That's before I knew what you were doing exactly!" Ron's face heated.

Draco laughed.

Ron pushed away and fumed at him. "You said you wouldn't laugh!" Draco staggered, but kept laughing.

"I can't help it! You're great. A virtual orgy of innocence," he snickered. "Alright, McGonagall, we'll keep the chastity belt on. We'll do 'Ballroom Dancing' instead."

Draco put his chin up, stood straight-backed, and demonstrated a series of mind-bogglingly complex quick steps and turns, completely out of sync with the Muggle music. Ron was reminded of Draco miming people at school.

"Wha..." Ron began as Draco returned to settle Ron's hands back on his hips. "What was all that?"

"The 'Cha-Cha.' If I had to learn Ballroom Dancing, I liked it to at least be fast."

"You took dancing lessons?"

"Oh shut up...it's not as though I had a choice in the matter..."

"No wonder you're a pouf!"

"You're the one with your bollocks up my arse, and I'll have you know I had to go to Wizard Balls! High society shit. Dance with some fat, ugly cousin to 'acquit myself well for the family'," Draco snapped. "Consider yourself properly compensated for being as poor as dirt.

"Now, shall we get to some real dancing -?"

Okay, okay. Ron suppressed another snicker and kissed Draco's hair. It always smelled so clean. Draco gave him a fox-like glance over his shoulder. The song ended and a completely different one came on. Muggle or not, this tune sounded vaguely familiar to Ron. He nodded in time to the music.

"We'll start simple," Draco said in his best 'Prefect' voice, shifting from side to side. Ron towered over him and once again Ron marvelled at how tiny he was. Not just short, but slim, too.

" 'S different from earlier," Ron noted. This step wasn't too hard. Ron blinked and shook his head a little. He kind of wanted to sit down. That Muggle booze gave him a head rush.

"The move has to fit the music," Draco said.

Ah.

"Bet you like this position, eh?" He ground lightly into Draco.

"I take my cheap thrills where I can get them. Given your family, we're talking bargain basement here."

"Ouch," Ron said into his hair, still rocking from side to side. "That's six."

"What -?" Draco blinked up at him.

"I've started counting how many insults you clock per hour. That was six," Ron said, "so far."

"Ministry statistics?"

"Middle management. I've learned all sorts of useful things like that," said Ron.

Draco laughed and his eyes sparkled up at Ron. "Just when did you develop a sense of humour, Weasley?"

Ron gave him a blank look. "I haven't changed."

"You never used to laugh at my jokes," Draco complained.

"You weren't funny."

"I was hysterical."

Ron decided not to answer that. Dating Hermione had been good practice for dealing with Draco: when on thin ice, say nothing. Ron did want to get laid tonight after all.

Draco added a slight variation to the step. Ron was confused a moment, then figured out how to keep up. Draco looked pleased at his progress. Ron snuggled into his backside.

"So... is this how you learned?" Ron couldn't help teasing, just a little.

"No! Given that the witch who taught me was at least ninety, I'm rather grateful she didn't. She liked me entirely too much. I had natural talent, among other things of course..."

"Such as?" Ron had a feeling he was going to regret asking this.

"Scintillating charisma," Draco said. In all seriousness.

Ron was awed at the ferret's enormous ego. Draco shot Ron a peeved look at his sudden burst of laughter. But Ron really couldn't help it, sex life or not!

"Just what are you laughing at? I'll have you know I've more charisma in my pinky than you have in your entire body," Draco sneered.

"I never claimed to have charisma - or even good looks!" Ron said. "I'll admit, you might have something - maybe - if you could just shut up about it."

Draco suddenly sped up the dance, tossed in a couple of complicated steps, completely throwing Ron's rhythm into an awkward fumbling.

Then Draco turned and smiled viciously. "Nice dancing, Weasley."

Ron let go of Draco's hips and moved to drop to the sofa, but Draco caught him about the waist and swung him around. "No, no, wait - don't stop - don't sit down. I'm sorry. C'mon.... You need to loosen up a little, Ron. This's good for you. I'm absolutely certain it's what you need and that's not just the pretty pills talking.

"Besides, it's bloody boring here all day without you."

"You could work! Lucius did give you a job." Ron snagged the remainder of his drink froe ene end table. Annoyingly, the glass was still wet.

Draco scowled. "I'm not working for Death Eaters. Bad enough I have their horrible tattoo."

"If you weren't a Malfoy, you'd have to," Ron said. When did he become the voice of responsibility, he wondered. He was starting to sound like Percy. Scary thought. Maybe Draco was right.

"But I am." A lifetime of privilege went into Malfoy's unconcerned shrug. "C'mon. Dance," Draco purred and clasped his hands around Ron's waist, swinging on Ron like a jungle gym. Yep. Draco was as high as a kite. "You'll love it."

Draco nuzzled under Ron's chin. When he decided to turn on the charm... Ron huffed a sigh, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright. No more making fun of me though? Promise?" he asked anxiously.

"About your dancing? On my honour," Draco said. "Anything else though... s'fair game. win winked. Now that was an honest answer. Ron knew he could trust it. He was still learning how very exact Slytherin promises were - and how he couldn't leave any wiggle room or Draco would worm his way out of his word, just on principle. Promises were more like negotiations with him. But whenever Draco set his own boundaries like that, he was sincere.

Besides, Ron rather liked it when Draco begged. It was kind of... sweet. In a lot of ways.

Ron finished off another glass of whatever Muggle drink Draco had given him. The heat washed through him and settled into a fine buzz. His hands travelled down Draco's hard shoulders, tracing the wiry muscle underneath.

Draco was so small. It always surprised Ron; Draco had loomed as such a big problem in his school life. But when Ron rescued him from the Death Eater's Arena - Ron stopped that thought. Better not to think about that day. Neither of them had ever discussed it. What mattered was Draco Malfoy was safe here, or at least as safe as Ron could make it. If Draco noticed Ron held him just a little tighter for a moment, he didn't say anything. Don't think, Ron told himself. He snagged Draco's glass from his hands, and finished off the contents in several long gulps, barely even tasting it. Draco smirked at him.

Warm slim hands returned to Ron's hips. Draco had put on new music, loud, this one with a really heavy but slightly slower beat. He pressed into Ron. They began the swaying motion again, now familiar and comforting. Ron followed Draco intently, concentrating as best he could with his head buzzing pleasantly.

"Okay," Draco said. He matched their movements to the thumping beat. "Feel that? That's the backbeat, the heartbeat of the music. You need to be in sync with that first."

Ron chewed his lip. Truth was, he heard a whole lot of different rhythms, all at once. He had no clue what Draco meant. He nodded anyway, figuring he'd catch on. Dancing felt nice anyway.

Suddenly Draco stopped, and stood away from Ron a moment.

"Hey..." Ron complained.

"Keep moving," Draco nodded, studying him. Ron tried, but without Draco he was at a complete loss. Draco shook his head.

"Thought so. Look. You can't just copy me; you have to feel it." Draco chewed his lower lip for a moment. "Let's try this."

He took Ron's hand, and placed it on his bare cool chest. "Feel that. That's my heartbeat, right? I'm talking, too. I'm also breathing. All kinds of rhythms. But underneath it all, is that heartbeat.

"Now close your eyes. No. Don't move. Just listen." Draco restarted the music; the heavy beat throbbed throughout the room. "Keep your eyes closed, Ron. Stop thinking about the music, and just let it wash through you. Don't think, just feel it."

Ron shut his eyes. He could sort of tell what Draco was talking about, but there was one small distraction.

"Draco," Ron asked, amused. "What does your hand on my crotch have to do with this?"

"It's essential," Draco said brightly.

Ron opened one doubtful eye. Uh-huh.

"All right, it has nothing to do with this; I was just having a little fun. You looked so trusting - who could resist? But did you feel the rhythm underneath?"

Ron coughed a little. Yeah. He'd felt it all right.

"Good." Draco moved behind Ron, who glanced back and shook his head. Sneaky little bastard.

"Now move with it," Draco continued. "Start slow. Keep your eyes closed if you need to... yeah."

Ron felt a little dizzy. But this Muggle tune sounded a lot like the Wizard group Vampire Hex whom he rather liked, with its slow throbbing beat. He let his head bob in time with the music, and let the music take him.

"Let's try to move the rest of your body too, eh?" Ron could hear the smile in his voice as Draco kneaded his shoulders. "Relax..." He draped against Ron's back. Whatever Draco had taken had made him rather cuddly. "Get your whole body into it."

Ron was surprised to feel that Draco wasn't simply bobbing his head to the music; he was actually moving his whole chest and hips and - oh. Ron followed him a little, then Draco slid off and danced away from him.

Ron breathed, closed his eyes again. The heavy rhythm was sort of like a pulsing wave; he let his hips go loose and remembered Draco's slow thrusting motion from earlier. It sort of fit this music. Felt right. He lost the rhythm in his surprise as he realised that - yeah! - it fit and he could do this. He picked up the rhythm again, more easily this time. It felt good.

The song ended with a thump, and Ron opened his eyes to find Draco eyeing him appreciatively. Ron's face fell.

"You were watching me!" he accused.

"Yes. But that looked... better than when you were just imitating."

"It did?"

"Yeah. A lot."

Suddenly Ron felt great. He went to take a long swallow of his drink, and found his glass empty. Now when did that happen?

He got some more and topped off Draco's while he was at it. Draco nodded a distracted thank-you as he fumbled with the black Muggle device, cursing under his breath. It seemed he wasn't quite competent with it yet. Ron looked over Draco's shoulder, wondering just where a pureblood like Malfoy would learn to work Muggle machinery.

Draco made a satisfied sound. "Ah."

The box suddenly roared and a really loud, fast guitar riff rippled through the room, startlingly familiar. Was that...?

"Hey!" Ron said in shock, yelling over the music. "That's Zombie Orgy!"

"The Muggle version, but yeah! Great, aren't they?" Draco shouted.

"Fuck yeah!"

Draco punched his fists into the air and did a hot, fast shimmy. Ron whooped, played air guitar all the way down to his knees, arched, and jumped up. Draco laughed and tried it but he couldn't leap like that.

"You're bloody strong, Ron," he said, but Ron could hardly hear him over the music. Draco did more of his subtle shoulder moves, sweeping the hair off his face as he turned. At the moment Ron didn't care how good or bad a dancer he was - this was Zombie Orgy! He cut loose, and even awkwardly followed Draco, who simply danced and laughed.

They played the entire album through. When the music thrummed to a halt, Draco asked, "Again?"

"Yeah!"

So they played it through, bounced and danced a second time.

And a third.

Finally they collapsed, flopping onto the couch, happy, sweaty and breathless. Draco let the machine murmur some quieter Muggle music Ron didn't recognise. It had nice lyrics and a softer rhythm. Though nothing compared to Zombie of course.

"I didn't know you had taste in music, Weasley," Draco breathed, leaning over to pick up a glass. He wiped the sweat off his brow and let his head drop back to the couch with a sigh.

Ron threw his hands up and shrugged. He was still gasping and couldn't quite talk yet. He downed some more of the booze with a cough; this one was a clear, stinging liquid. They'd already polished off the first bottle. Ron asked, as he caught his breath, "What I want to know... is since when... since when do Muggles play Wizard music?" Ron shook his head in disbelief. Then shook his head again. He liked the spinning sensation.

Draco smirked at Ron from his elegant sprawl. "More like the other way around. Wizarding bands have been ripping off the Muggles for yeeears." He grinned over his glass, toasting Ron with it. "But don't let the Death Eaters hear you say that."

"No way! Vampire Hex? And Zombie Orgy? Rip-offs?! That's sacrilege!" Ron declared. "They're great!"

"They are. But it's not likely the Muggles are ripping off the wizard bands. It has to be the other way around," Draco said, rolling onto his side.

"I don't believe it!" Ron insisted.

"Suit yourself. 'Denial' is not just a river in Egypt." He changed the subject. "So, what other bands do you like?"

"Well, Ghetto Frogs, Ocelot of course, Nightmare - naturally, not a lot of people know Nightmare but -"

"Oh, I know Nightmare," Draco said airily, though he looked a little surprised.

"You do?" Nightmare was an underground classic, a big influence on other wizard bands, but not the least bit popular.

"Sure. I have all their stuff."

"Brilliant! Got any of it here?"

Draco shook his head. He gave Ron a calculating glance. "How about Devilsnake? Ever heard of them?"

"Ha, ha. Trick question," Ron said into his glass. It sloshed as Ron gestured at Draco. "They're horrible. But back when they were Dragonsbane they were bloody amazing."

Draco nodded, blinking and pleased. "Yeah, too bad about their lead singer."

"Shit, that was sad. But a live dragon? On stage? How thick can you get?" Ron shook his head at such idiocy.

"Really," Draco drawled. "A bit hard to feel sorry for them after that. That Zambian Brown ate a good band."

Draco stretched languorously, his little feet kneading into Ron's thigh. They were quiet a moment, and Ron pulled Draco's legs onto his lap. Draco squirmed a bit, and then relaxed as Ron massaged the balls of his feet, carefully. He was horribly ticklish. That had been a fun discovery. Ron had him thrashing all over the kitchen floor. They must have knocked everything over - the table, chairs, sugar - Draco even got covered in flour. Ron smiled at the memory.

Draco sighed happily, sagging into the couch. He looked over at Ron with bright eyes. "You want to know something scary?"

Ron returned to the present. "Hmm?"

"I'm really starting to like you."

Ron chuckled. "That's okay, Malfoy," he grinned, "I'll never like you."

"I feel better already." Draco took a long swallow of his drink. Ron rescued the glass before he set it on the floor, mildly annoyed. He always knocked things over when he put them there. Then Draco let his arm drape over the couch, and Ron lay back and sighed comfortably.

His feet started kneading in a rather friendlier area. Ron relaxed into it with a low growl. Hmm.

"Go down on me," Draco finally said, in a small, tight voice.

Ron made a satisfied sound. It was about time.

"All right."

Ron slowly unbuckled Draco's trousers while Draco leaned back against the couch, his eyes already closed and happy. Draco preferred to be completely nude, but Ron simply pulled his pants to his thighs, enough to reveal a slim cock, already hard and rising in dark blond curls. Though for his size it was rather long, Draco was pretty small.

Ron teased him about that whenever Draco said anything really nasty.

But actually, Ron liked it. As he stroked, Ron admired the pointed shape, and he appreciated the fact he could pretty much fit him in his mouth without learning to deep throat. Ron was practical. Draco was cut, which was rather unusual and it made Draco look extra-naked. And another guy's cock was so different from his own. Almost had its own personality.

Ron restrained himself from saying a cheery 'hul-lo' to it though: that always irritated Malfoy when he did that.

Draco was moving slightly to the music. Ron stilled his hips, and let a puff of warm breath tease Malfoy's hair. He saw Draco shiver and glance down, briefly.

Ron licked delicately under the sensitive head and was rewarded with a hiss of breath. Ron automatically checked out the slit. There was no telltale redness; he hadn't come today. That was Ron's first clue that Draco had plans for tonight, and his eyes widened.

Oh. Well, then... good.

Ron slid his lips down the entire length of Draco's cock, and took his balls in his mouth, delighting in his little gasp and the hands that clutched convulsively at his hair. Oh, Ron had more for him than that.... He sought out the tender spot behind the balls, and Draco shivered to his knees; Ron used that as a cover to ruefully get rid of a persistent hair. Oh well, nothing was perfect.

Then Ron cupped Draco's cool arse with a hand, and used the other to pump him, slowly, until Draco's head lolled against the cushions. He wanted Draco really hard for this part. Their eyes met. Ron beamed at him. Draco knew exactly what was coming - this was Ron's favourite trick. Draco smiled languidly.

But ready or not, Ron still pulled that long moan out of Draco as he circled, flicked and teased his swollen purple head. He tongued the slit, which drove Draco crazy, every single time.

"Oh fuck...!" Draco dissolved into long, unintelligible curses, including some that sounded Italian.

Ron tried - unsuccessfully - not to laugh. He took Draco all the way in and played with him; his tongue arched along the sensitive vein.

Draco's hands stroked and weaved across Ron's back and Draco pressed up into him, eager. Ron let him` fuck his mouth for a moment, and then Ron pressed Draco's hips to the cushions. He continued that rhythm himself, fought Draco for control, then sped him up; Draco's chest heaved and he gasped desperately. There was one thing Draco didn't have, and that was staying power.

"Slower... slower..." Draco breathed, his hands massaging Ron's hair.

Ron pulled himself off briefly, his hands caressed Draco's balls. "But you won't come."

"Don't want to. Not yet." Draco shook his head and smiled.

That raised Ron's eyebrows. Okay.

So he sucked and nuzzled gently, running his hair along Draco's cock, until Draco pulled Ron closer and started to undo his trousers.

"I don't want you to come yet either. All right?" Draco said anxiously.

Then you'd better not go down on me, Ron thought. But there was not a chance he was telling Draco that. So he just nodded.

Draco stripped him all the way, and curled sideways across Ron's lap, his own trousers at his knees. Ron's hand cupped Draco's smooth bare arse; Draco's thighs felt especially silky for some reason. Ron's hand slid down his thigh, questioning.

"Draco? Did you shave your legs?"

Draco didn't answer. Instead his small warm hand wrapped around a very wonderful place and Ron swiftly forgot such a silly question. Draco gazed up at Ron as his tongue teased daintily at Ron's head, a supple line on cool skin. Ron pressed himself up to Draco's mouth, pleading, but Draco pulled away and gave Ron a chiding glance. Ron sighed.

Then, very gently, Draco lowered his lips over Ron, smooth... so gentle....

Ron's head spun in alcohol daze and he melted into the heavenly wet heat, relaxed into the soft motion, with a completely different sort of sigh. His heart sang when Draco played with his balls... oh. Those dainty warm hands tickled, sending dizzying frissons up his spine, the suction on his cock almost an ache and not quite enough, but.... Draco's fingertips teased down Ron's thighs, then curled around his hips, his sides, his chest.... Then Draco lifted off, and lipped at Ron's head with a warm sighing breath.

As Ron came to his senses, he found he had tangled his hands in Draco's silky hair, who-knew-when. He ran his fingers through it comfortably. So soft.

It was great to be home from work. No worries. Maybe he didn't have to work at all. He and Draco could just stay home and do this all day instead. Ron had suggested that once, half-joking, and Draco had said, "Wouldn't that get dull after a while?" He'd almost even kept a straight face when he said it. Almost. They both had burst out laughing. Sometimes Draco was pretty damn funny.

"That was nice," Ron breathed.

"I've learned to unhook my jaw. You have the biggest head I've ever seen."

"Um-hmm. So, just how many have you seen?" Ron was always curious about Draco's history. Draco never talked about his sex life, ex-girlfriends, or well, in his case probably ex-boyfriends.

Draco didn't answer but stood up and buckled his trousers. "Hungry?"

Well, it had been worth a shot anyway. Ron rolled over and leaned on folded arms. The fabric of the sofa scraped along his bare chest. "Don't tell me you've actually cooked dinner?"

"What -? No. I took some of my prepayment for these lovely things in trade." Draco made a vague gesture to the rack. Yeah, Ron was meaning to ask about the clothes. "But I need you in the kitchen. She said I'd want to warm it up, so I need you to work that cooking-thingie, whatever it is."

"The 'cooking-thingie' that I use every single night to make dinner?"

"Yeah."

"You can work a complex Muggle music machine, with knobs sticking out everywhere - but you can't turn on an oven?"

"I have priorities."

Naked and exasperated, Ron padded into the kitchen. Turned the bloody dial on the oven. Opened the door. Draco followed, belting his trousers.

Ron folded his arms and said, "There. Wow. That - was - tough."

"There's always a catch," Draco scowled at the oven. "So you put dinner in there?"

Ron nodded, trying not to laugh.

Draco looked a little uncomfortable, and gave the oven a suspicious glance. Then he opened the refrigerator - that he could work - and pulled out two plates and made for the oven.

"Whoa, whoa! You can't put those in there!" Ron stopped him.

"Why not? You said 'dinner' goes in 'there'," Draco said, looking confused.

"They'll melt! Those plates are plastic," Ron explained. "You have to put the food in an oven-proof dish."

Draco's cheeks turned pink. Then he looked cross. "They always make it so complicated. See? See why I can't learn how to cook? There's all these little rules nobody tells you about. They say 'put dinner in there,' and then they yell at you for doing just that! Potions is easier. They tell you exactly what to do and they don't change their fucking minds."

Ron rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry I yelled. I'll teach you how to cook, Draco."

"No," Draco pouted, jaw set. "You cook." He dropped the plates onto the counter with a thunk.

"C'mon. I don't want you to starve to death just because I have to work late. I just have to watch you, that's all. Most people don't have house-elves." Draco looked unconvinced. "If I can learn how to dance, you can learn how to cook."

"Dancing is fun." Draco scowled.

"So's cooking."

"Oh? Then why do you always complain about it?"

Ron didn't have an answer to that. Draco quirked an eyebrow at him.

"You ask too many questions," Ron said finally, rubbing his neck. He sighed. "It is fun, just not every night, alright?"

"Dancing is better. It's fun every time."

"If you had to do it every night, would it be?" Ron asked reasonably.

Draco considered that carefully. Then he folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head at Ron.

"All right. I'll learn how to cook. Under one condition."

"What's that?"

"You do this tonight." Draco picked up the two plates and stuffed them into Ron's hands. "I've been traumatised enough for one day."

He stalked out. Ron stared after him, nonplussed.

" 'Gosh, thanks for your help, Ron' - 'Gee, don't mention it, Draco'," Ron added on Draco's behalf. "Sheesh."

Ron pulled a baking dish from the sink full of dirty dishes and washed it, leaving the rest.

Their current standoff was over who did the washing up. Draco was lazy, but Ron had discovered the little snob had a low threshold for 'filth,' as he put it. Much lower than Ron's. Ron had won the laundry wars this way, though Percy had refused to set foot in their place while it was at its, er, height.

Ron shovelled the food into the baking dish and licked the spoon. Hmmm. Ethiopian. Good stuff. Ron was a good cook, but he wasn't that good. This drug dealing of Draco's was starting to seem like a fine idea. Ron pulled two beers from the refrigerator for while they waited. These he had earned. Lucius didn't just give out strawberries. He kicked the door shut.

Oh. Right. Ron reminded himself to hide the strawberries from Draco.
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Sex, Drugs and Death Eater Rock