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sua_layAuthor: Rimau Sua Lay
Rating: overall NC-17, Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, First Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco, (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - ?
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Four: -Before you can go forward, you must face your past. Sins of the father may bury the son. Harry will find out if a dog really is the man's best friend.
Warning: This part contains deaths, gore, mention of het rape, explicit sex between men, disturbing themes, angst and a partridge in a pear tree.
The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.
"Come on, bubble already." Muttering to himself, Draco stared at the pot, waiting for the water to start boiling. It was annoying how long this took.
He had finally managed to learn how the stove worked, and was now immensely proud of the fact that he could make tea properly without having to suffer the watery taste that always seemed to linger on the magically heated brew. It hadn't been as difficult as he'd thought, but it had been hard work nevertheless. He hadn't felt comfortable asking anyone and the house elves had disappeared somewhere.
Of course he could have waited until later, when Potter came back from whatever meeting he was attending to with the older Gryffindors. They always seemed to have a snack before going to bed.
He'd just felt like having a cup of tea right now.
Fidgeting with the tea and the cup, he tried not to stare at the still not boiling water. Yes, it would be good to read something and drink hot tea, maybe even grab a chunk of chocolate while he was at it. After the past few days, he deserved all comfort he could get.
He was still getting used to living with a group of Gryffindors. Thank Merlin they had Eppy and Bobbler living here as well. At least he didn't have to worry about chores on top of all this madness.
It would have probably made Granger deliriously happy to watch him slave over menial tasks.
Fortunately, she seemed to be content with casting disapproving looks at him, looking shockingly like professor McGonagall did when she took House points from Slytherin.
Draco didn't know if angry words would have been better or worse.
The way the Gryffindors treated him was a mystery to him. No one had blamed him for attacking Weasley earlier. Instead professor -- well, not a professor anymore -- Lupin had asked him if he was all right and then offered him some chocolate that he'd accepted in near shock.
He remembered Lupin from Hogwarts, being a silly teacher who'd turned out to be an almost Dark creature with his curse. The approaching full moon was slightly disconcerting, but Draco was certain Snape would brew the werewolf a potion that would restrain his killer urges. Anything to keep them safe.
Like with other professors, Draco had never really paid much attention to someone he knew to be a halfblood. He did have to admit now that Lupin wasn't a complete fool. The way he'd talked to him about Weasley had been slightly patronizing and had annoyed him at first, but it was definitely better to be preached to than to endure uncomfortable silences.
He didn't mind Remus Lupin, ignored Granger and was slightly baffled by the vague friendliness Potter showed at him.
Sirius Black was another thing completely.
There weren't many things Draco admitted he feared, but Sirius Black was definitely on the top of that list.
Those black eyes were full of suspicion every time the man looked at him. He didn't know why; probably because of his father. Him being a Slytherin could also help, considering what he'd heard the man say about his House and its Head.
Hatred towards Slytherins and Snape were things Draco simply had to get used to since most people showed obvious distaste every time he walked by, muttering dark things about him.
Black didn't mutter. He simply looked at him with those scary eyes of his.
It was mostly his reputation that got to Draco. A pureblood Gryffindor who had been in Azkaban for over a decade for a murder he hadn't committed. He wanted to claim that the respect he tried to show to the man was for him being a pureblood, but knew that it was the Azkaban -part that really influenced his behavior.
Everyone knew that people didn't last there for a week without becoming at least slightly crazy.
Something touched the back of Draco's legs, and he jumped, letting out a yelp as he tried not to burn himself with the pot and grab his wand at the same time. He looked around in panic and then glared at the orange hairball that was walking away with his tail held high.
Damn the cat! Draco was certain the little creature was laughing at him.
Turning his back on the animal who looked like he was thinking of scratching him, Draco went to take the pot and poured the water into the cup.
Granger's cat was really getting on his nerves. Why couldn't he behave like Potter's owl who hooted at him every time he walked past her? The weird purring and butting his head on his legs were really disconsenting, especially since Draco wasn't sure he even liked cats.
Must be because the furball's owner hated him. He wouldn't be surprised if Crookshanks clawed him some day, like Granger would probably like the cat to do.
He grabbed the sugar, ignoring the memories that assaulted him. His mother had always liked her tea extra sweet, and his father had always commented on it, especially when Draco had followed her example.
There were moments when he missed that. He didn't want to, but he did. It was now not even the memory of perfection he'd held dear ever since he'd betrayed it, but an illusion.
It was over. There was no reason to continue thinking about his past as something perfect, for it meant that he would have to lie to himself about everything.
He was tired of lies.
He knew exactly what had happened at the Weasley place. The others didn't even have to tell him about his father's part in that little scene. He knew how much he hated the Weasleys and could well imagine his father had enjoyed killing them, just like he'd enjoyed torturing professor McGonagall.
No matter how much he'd always looked up to his father, he couldn't comprehend that. Yes, he wanted to be respected and sometimes pointing out people's weaknesses and stupidity was just too much fun. There was a line he didn't want to cross, though, now that he realized such a line existed.
He saw no need to please anyone -- there were so few people whose opinion might matter to him -- but he didn't think that cruelty was any better than crawling.
Taunting Ron Weasley didn't feel like much of a game anymore; he didn't need to be distracted from his own worries that badly. There was plenty enough for him to do here now. Work. Reading. Preparing to fight against the Dark Lord. Things would be frantic enough without using Weasley for amusement.
He was actually stunned by how he was thinking of the fight as his own now. It wasn't simply good versus evil like most seemed to think. He was in it to wipe out a lie.
Trust wasn't easy for him. He had known that Potter had believed in what he'd told him earlier, but he'd still confirmed it from Snape. It had been one of the most horrifying moments in his life, asking the man if Lord Voldemort was indeed the same person as Tom Riddle, and if he was truly a mudblood.
Snape's cold stare had told him the answer even before he said it out loud, and Draco had been glad of the darkness of the dungeons, because he hadn't been able to hide his shock and revulsion.
The horror of that revelation had been stronger than any memories, even stronger than the dull ache he still felt when he thought of the Malfoy Mansion and his mother. It changed everything. All the things he'd believed had turned into lies, his ancestral home where generations of purebloods had dwelled was in the hands of a maniac who defiled everything he held dear.
He could have understood his father if it really was about pureblood pride and need to gain a better position in their world. To rape and pillage and kill people whose blood was just as pure as theirs just because a crazy mudblood told him to? That was incomprehensible.
Realizing he'd put at least ten lumps of sugar into his cup, lost in thought, Draco let out a sigh and then poured the whole thing down the drain. He still had enough hot water to make himself another cup.
There was nothing to distract him here, so he would probably spend the whole evening brooding over the stupidity of this war. He hoped tomorrow there would be a meeting he could attend as well, anything to break the boredom.
For there was nothing he could really do to change the way things were right now.
A slight sound from the doorway barely registered at first and Draco shrugged it off as Granger's cat again. Then the sound was repeated, somewhere between a sigh and a snort and he glanced over his shoulder to see Weasley standing there.
He didn't make eye contact or stare. Instead he returned his attention to his tea.
Unable to turn around and walk away, Ron stared at Malfoy. He hadn't thought he'd be in here. Malfoy had stayed out of his way for days now, always finding something else to do when he was around. He should really go back to the living room and raid the cupboards when he was certain the kitchen was empty.
He didn't move. Somehow, it was too quiet in the house, with no one else around, and Ron didn't want to run away from here only to hide in the silence. He could handle Draco Malfoy's presence, especially since he wasn't being his arrogant self.
It was strange, but watching Malfoy work on something as simple as tea was making Ron's hands tremble. Hiding the slight movement by squeezing his hands into fists, he stared at Malfoy.
Maybe he should have joined Hermione and Terry at the Broomsticks tonight. It would have been better than this, but he sometimes felt like a third wheel when he was out with those two, and he definitely didn't want to spend the evening drinking and fighting stupid thoughts. At least this way he wouldn't have a blinding headache tomorrow morning.
It wasn't as if the crowd could really take away all the weird and disgusting thoughts still popping into his mind from his insane subconscious.
He wondered if he should say something to Malfoy. It was always tempting to use some of the names Sirius used on Slytherins and then watch him flinch or try to hide the discomfort that always showed in those damn pale eyes.
Ron wasn't certain if he wanted to break the silence with fighting, even though just being in the same room with Malfoy made him feel as uncomfortable as always.
Licking his suddenly dry lips, he watched Malfoy reach for a small pouch of tea, distracted by those nimble fingers working on the knot that tied it shut. He wished Malfoy would hurry up and get lost so that he could have a snack as well and then try to go to bed.
He wondered if Malfoy was planning on taking his own snack upstairs to eat while reading something and then going to bed before the others came home. The git would probably take a shower and spend ages naked under the spray and use most of the warm water, just to force Ron to charm the heater again.
It wouldn't be the first time.
Draco fussed with the tea leaves, confident with this part. It was not difficult to make tea if one excelled in Potions, the trickiest part had always been to get the stove working.
He watched the clear water turn to pale brown as the leaves steeped, ignoring everything else.
Weasley. The one person in the world he didn't really want to see right now. They could barely stay in the same room when there were others around, and he was sure that any time spent alone together would lead to violence.
Trying to act like the stare he could feel between his shoulder blades wasn't affecting him at all, he finished brewing his tea. He took his cup and then turned to leave the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow slightly, as a silent request for Weasley to get out of his way.
Still not saying a word, Ron raised his hand slowly, as if he wasn't sure what he was doing. He certainly didn't want to touch Malfoy unless he was hitting him, and he definitely didn't want to think about Malfoy naked in the shower. Or anywhere else. He was cool with Harry liking guys, but his own preferences lay elsewhere, and thinking about naked men made him feel like he'd been punched in the stomach.
Like he felt now, a fluttering ache spreading through his body so fast it felt like he was on fire.
He was a bit stunned by the way his hand didn't tremble anymore. It didn't clench into a fist either. He tried to hold still, but the movement continued in a graceful arch without any hesitations.
Malfoy was still a prat, a disgusting slimy Slytherin who used people and lied to them even without saying a word. And yet here he was with Malfoy whom he'd always hated, who had always hated him. Who had taunted him and hit him and tried to crawl inside his skin when he had been unsure of everything.
It should be a nightmare. A disgusting memory sending him to scrub himself clean in the shower until he bled.
He grabbed Malfoy's cup and tossed it to the side. The sound of porcelain shattering against the wall was somehow appropriate, as was the shock on Malfoy's face. Ron's hands itched to grab him, and he did nothing to suppress that urge.
It was so easy. He simply reached out and took a hold of Malfoy. With a firm push, he pressed him against the wall, ignoring the tea that was staining the wallpaper. He needed this like he needed the air to breathe.
Inhale. Then his lips met Malfoy's in a frantic kiss.
Draco was frozen still. He'd thought Weasley would hit him again and had been prepared to either walk away or fight. The kiss came as a surprise, the instant desire coursing through his body didn't.
This was so much better than fighting or sitting alone in his room drinking tea and wondering what the hell had happened to his perfect life. Wrapping his arms around Weasley, he answered the kiss eagerly. There was an ocean of violence just underneath the lust, waiting to flood over the touch. Some of it seeped through the caress, making him bite Weasley's lower lip almost hard enough to break the soft skin.
Ron groaned as he felt the sharp bite on his mouth. He couldn't understand how Malfoy was making him throb with need, but he couldn't let it happen again like this.
Not like this.
He stepped away from the kiss. "I shouldn't have done that." The words made him sound like Hagrid, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. There was no way in hell he would ever apologize to Malfoy.
"Why not?" Licking his lips, Draco looked up from under his eyelashes. He didn't really understand why Weasley insisted on doing this; touching him as if he wanted to shag him blind and then moving away in clear agony. Gryffindors didn't play games Snape had said, but this seemed awfully like one.
"I don't like you, Malfoy!" Ron almost laughed at his own brutally honest and painfully obvious words. "I don't like you and I still..." Kissed you? Want you?
Draco raised an eyebrow, the sneer slipping back on his lips without a conscious thought. He wasn't surprised, nothing had ever indicated that Weasley liked him. "Tell me something I don't already know."
Looking a little embarrassed, Ron ground out, "Shut up, Malfoy. I'm trying here!" Why did the git always have to be so damn annoying?
"Let me guess. You're trying to tell me that you don't like me but you want to shag me anyway and now you're going through some very Gryffindor angsting over the fact that you can't resist me." It was good to say it out loud. Even better to see the look in Weasley's eyes.
Some days Ron didn't know whether to laugh at Malfoy or hit him. He'd tried both, and the results were never really what he wanted.
He couldn't deny his words. He did want him, of course he did. Malfoy was... He was... Well he was something all right! Kind of sexy in an irritating way. And he did know what to do with his mouth. And hands. Ron was convinced he was at least part Veela with that hair and that smirk. Not to mention that arse. Yes, he had noticed the arse.
Malfoy was also right about the angsting, even though Ron wouldn't put it that way himself. He was simply being considerate. Reasonable. It wasn't a nice thing to lust after someone you also wanted to punch. That was something people like him just didn't do, they didn't want guys like Malfoy and didn't really want to hurt anyone.
Except that he kind of did; wanted Malfoy, and at the same time wanted to grab him so hard he bruised him or bite him until he bled. "You sure have a high opinion of yourself." Not that he would just admit that want to anyone. He'd barely managed to even admit it to himself.
Draco didn't say anything. He simply looked down Weasley's body, his gaze focusing on his groin. When he looked back up on his face, he smiled at the obvious embarrassment there.
"Oh shut up!" Exasperated, Ron grabbed Malfoy's arm. "You want to shag or not?"
Not even bothering to hide his amusement, Draco said, "How eloquent! And yes, I want to shag." He leaned closer to Weasley, his breath tickling his ear as he added, "You're quite shaggable."
Ron knew this was wrong. It was Malfoy and Malfoy was evil and he hated Malfoy more than he'd ever even thought of hating anyone. He shouldn't want this, shouldn't be here or talk to him like they were actually wanting the same thing.
His mind was rebelling against the need, but his body was already committed.
He pushed Malfoy onto the table, shoving the teapot and a jar of marmalade out of his way. The pot fell on the floor, shattering into a mess of shards and tea. He didn't really care. There was one thing Malfoy had been wrong about; he wasn't going to be 'shaggable', not ever. Otherwise, he was all game.
The door opened slightly. "What are they doing?" came a whisper full of outrage.
"Eppy, Bob, get the hell out of here!" Not bothering to even look at the house elves, Ron moved to open his trousers.
He knew he was at least slightly mad. Usually, the slamming door and the patter of bare feet echoing down the hall would have destroyed the mood and made him cringe. There was something about Malfoy that just made him lose his mind; instead of thinking with his brains, he was now operating on lust only.
Naked, he needed to get naked right now, and the way Malfoy was squirming on the table and trying to get his shirt off made him realize the need was mutual.
Ron didn't manage to go very far with his own clothes, too busy helping Malfoy with his, his hands itching with the need to touch the pale skin. Settling with pushing his trousers down, he pulled Malfoy's off, almost choking as he saw the green boxer shorts trimmed with silver.
Slytherins!
Then all amusement left him as Malfoy spread his legs, the movement a surprisingly elegant invitation. He stared, unable to believe that he was staring at Malfoy's hard prick without feeling any disgust, and then took that one step closer, bumping their erections together and almost tripping on his trousers.
Embarrassment didn't even register. It was all right to trip on his own trousers if that brought him grinding against Malfoy. Grinding was good, better than good and Ron couldn't believe how good the simple idea of thrusting against Malfoy until he came was.
Apparently he was the only one with that idea. "Wait! Weasley... Oh, fuck, wait!" Knowing the way his legs kept pulling Weasley even closer kind of contradicted his words, Draco forced himself to relax.
Slowing the frantic thrusting wasn't easy, but Ron did his best.
"We need something!" Draco was perfectly happy to do this on the kitchen table, but he was not going to have Weasley shag him dry. There was a limit to his masochism.
Ron paused completely, his eyes going a little wild. He was fine with this as long as he didn't really have to think about anything. "What?" He knew what he needed. A working brain. Or someone to tell him he was insane, because he simply didn't believe himself anymore.
"Lubrication." When Weasley's eyes went wider, Draco sighed, "Something slippery." When the very familiar look of confusion didn't change, he said very slowly, "You need something slippery, so you can put it in me and then on your prick before you shove it up my arse. Get it?"
A wheezing sound of shock escaped Ron. How could Malfoy say something like that? About his arse and pricks and did he really need slippery stuff to that?
His prick. Up Malfoy's arse. Slippery stuff. Okay. He could do that.
Trousers and pants still bunched up at his ancles, Ron stared around the kitchen trying to find something that would be slippery enough to gain Malfoy's approval. He didn't want to leave the kitchen; to pull up his trousers and go in search for some kind of a lotion. That would just bring the moment he freaked out closer, and he wanted to have sex before that.
His mind was in a total chaos, but he managed to focus on something near the bread basket. "Accio butter!" He grabbed the jar that came flying and then dropped his wand on the table.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Butter?" He tried to remember how it had tasted on a toast, if it was too salty or not. "That might sting. Can't you go and get something more appropriate, like real lubricant?" Somehow using butter as lubricant sounded awfully stupid. Not to mention that the fact that they were already doing this on the kitchen table would make eating here later on kind of awkward.
Fingers already dipped in the jar, Ron still managed to glare. "No." Where the heck would he find real lubricant anyway? Go and rummage through Harry's room? Not likely.
"Oh fine!" Leaning back against his elbows, Draco spread his legs wider. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He was sure Weasley would ignore whatever he said until he got hurt.
Ron paused for a moment to gawk at the sight in front of him. Malfoy lying on the table, half naked, looking naughty and sexy as hell at the same time. A very good combination, he had to admit. Ignoring the fact that his fingers were trembling a little, he leaned closer.
The hiss escaping Draco was half surprise half warning. His relaxed posture didn't exactly scream that he hated the clumsy touches.
It was weird. Ron's mind was playing an endless, 'My fingers are up Malfoy's arse!' and he couldn't decide if it was worth panicking or not. Could one panic with a hard on? Apparently yes.
Deciding he needed to speed this up or Weasley would just stand there and use his fingers on him until breakfast tomorrow morning, Draco grabbed some of the butter and then reached out for Weasley's prick. "You can move on now." Impatience was clear in his husky voice.
He stared at Weasley, his glistening erection, and a smile started to tug at his lips. Trying very hard not to laugh out loud, he closed his eyes. It didn't help.
"What's so funny?" Ron asked, feeling the raw anger raise at the familiar mocking sight.
There was nothing but honest mirth in Draco's eyes as he finally looked up. "I... I'm..." He let out a muffled sound of laughter. "I'm greasing the weasel!"
Ron shook his head at the hysterical comment, refusing to find it funny even though it kind of was. He didn't want to collapse into a laughing heap right now. Oh no. He wanted to do something else. Looking into Malfoy's eyes, he ground out, "I am going to fuck you so hard you won't sit for days."
Draco's laughter died. He stared at Weasley for a moment and then grinned ferally at the words. "You can always try!" He knew it would make Weasley growl, and when the sound reverbarated in the room, he grinned even wider.
Things got a bit blurry then. Try as he might, Ron couldn't remember just exactly when he'd grabbed Malfoy's hip and how he'd got close enough without tripping on his trousers, but suddenly he was there, pushing into a tight hotness and Malfoy's fingers were squeezing his arm so hard it hurt.
"Oh yeah..." Arching his back a little, Draco let his head hit the table as he felt Weasley inside him. He was definitely not going to complain about the direct tactic of simply shoving it in. After all, this was Weasley; holding him a little tighter than necessary, pushing his prick in without much finesse and looking at him with a totally bewildered expression on his face.
Ron was in a happy place. There was nothing but the hot and tight squeeze in the world, sucking his brains out and leaving him tingling. Not that he was complaining. He couldn't form any words even if he tried, all he could do was twist his hips and thrust into Malfoy.
"Merlin, you're huge!" Panting it out, Draco grabbed the edge of the table and held on. "Fucking huge..."
He'd thought he would probably control this, knowing the lack of sophistication Weasley possessed, but now it seemed he was just as lost as he was. Weasley really was huge, and he was filling him completely and it felt better than anything in ages.
The words penetrated the haze in Ron's mind, and he let out a growl as he looked down at what would undoubtedly be a smirk. Seeing that Malfoy's face was a grimace between pain and pleasure was completely surreal like everything seemed to be right now.
Ron liked the look. It was better than anything he'd ever seen.
There were other things he liked just as much, the way Malfoy gasped and let out a litany of curses when he thrust back in, Malfoy's hands reaching out for him and then pulling him closer.
He liked the way Malfoy was tight and hot and at the same time so damn open for him.
"Oh fuck, Weasley! You're so good..." Moaning out the words, Draco clawed at the strong shoulders he was gripping, needing more. He knew he'd be bruised tomorrow, and didn't care. "Come on! Harder!"
Ron tightened his hold on Malfoy, moving his hips faster. He smiled darkly at the string of nonsense that escaped him, enjoying the knowledge that he was making Malfoy lose himself like this and that he wasn't alone in this whirlwind of mindless pleasure.
The table underneath them shook with the force of his thrusts.
Reaching down to fist his own prick, Draco grunted with every thrust.
Weasley was holding him down, slamming hard -- almost violently -- into him. No one had ever overpowered him this way before, and he reveled in it.
He knew this was absolutely safe. He would never have allowed anything like this with another Slytherin, but with Weasley things were different; he had no idea of the games that were as natural to Draco as breathing. It was all about strength and need and lust but not a game of domination.
It was so easy to surrender to that.
"Harder!" Draco groaned, his voice barely a whisper. "Fuck, Weasley, harder!"
Ron couldn't really comprehend any words, but he could hear the hunger in Malfoy's voice.
Slamming into Malfoy, squeezing his hips so hard there would definitely be hand shaped bruises there for days, he let out muffled curses as he came. Through the haze of bliss he could barely feel Malfoy's hand moving harder on his own prick.
He wasn't a complete bastard! Trying to figure out how to pull out of Malfoy's arse without making a total mess, Ron muttered, "Hey, I... I can..." His brains weren't really ready to process anything as complicated as giving Malfoy a hand.
Fortunately Malfoy didn't need his help.
Ron stared at Malfoy as he convulsed, arching his back so that it looked almost painful. Then it didn't matter what Malfoy looked like, as the heat around his prick clenched and the shock of Malfoy's climax swept over him.
It was a miracle he managed to keep standing instead of just slumping on the floor as his legs went totally boneless.
Ron tried to catch his breath, holding onto the table for as long as he felt all wobbly, not minding the way he was slowly slipping out of Malfoy's body. He wasn't in any hurry.
The need to flee and wash the sweat and come and Malfoy's smell off his skin was peculiar in its absence.
He waited for it to come when he finally slipped free, but no, there was still no panic. He picked up his wand, but there was no urge to hex anyone, just the kind of tingle that meant he'd shagged himself silly. Or shagged someone else silly.
Since Malfoy looked a bit hesitant, Ron patted his stomach, ignoring the way his palm got wet and gooey, and smiled at him. He could see that his behavior just turned the hesitation into real worry.
It was all right. He didn't really care. As long as this post orgasmic good feeling remained and the anxiety stayed away, everything was fine.
Leaving Malfoy there on the table, he grabbed his trousers and yanked them up before padding to the door without looking back. The house was dark and quiet, and for the first time in ages Ron felt genuinely tired and had the hunch that for once there wouldn't be any weird dreams.
Strange, the mellow feeling followed him to sleep and greeted him the first thing the next morning. Going through his morning routines of fishing socks from under the bed and scratching his head until his hair was in some resemblance of an order, Ron had completely inappropriate thoughts about Malfoy having a magical arse that healed every worry and the mental image of a mediwizard prescribing him some of that arse made him laugh on his way down for breakfast.
There had to be something very wrong with him.
The bathroom stop made him reconsider his theory of Malfoy's magical arse, and he cursed loudly while trying to find some ointment to put on his stinging prick.
Not that there would ever be a second time of shagging with Malfoy on the kitchen table, but if he would consider kitchen tables in the far future, he would forgo the butter. Definitely.
It was early and he simply padded to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat. Harry was there already, and soon there were sounds of the other taking showers and eventually everyone gathered around the table.
The first tingle of anger slithered up his spine as he watched Malfoy sit on his usual place on the other side of the table and didn't regret shagging him. He had no idea why he wasn't angry at the git, or at himself. It was more like he was angry at not being angry.
Made no sense really.
He just knew that seeing Malfoy look well shagged made him feel like a million Galleons. It blew the anger away, bringing forth a smug satisfaction.
These mood swings were kind of scary if he allowed himself to concentrate on them. Instead he concentrated on stuffing his face with sausages, feeling energetic.
Sipping coffee that had the weird side taste of cardamom in it as usual, Ron watched the others eat and make plans for the day. He was feeling too good to bother joining the conversation. It was looking like a good day, no matter what they would do.
He stayed behind in the kitchen after the others had finished their breakfast, enjoying the mellow feeling for a moment longer. He ignored the way Eppy was staring at him and the way Bob was running around with a rag in his hand.
"Hey Ron... Are you coming to Hogwarts with us or not?" Harry asked, standing at the doorway.
Ron shrugged. "Sure." He remembered Harry saying something about moving their meetings to Hogsmeade, and he had to wonder if this was the last time they'd spend the day milling around the Great Hall. "I'll just finish my coffee."
"Okay." Yawning, Harry leaned against the doorway and scratched his head.
The house elves kept scurrying around the room, both apparently finding the intrusion annoying. Eppy kept piling the dishes in the sink, the sound of porcelain hitting silverware making Harry cringe.
He couldn't remember Eppy ever actually breaking any of the china, so the sound was just a bit irritating, He was used to her and her cranky ways but watching the younger house elf's frantic movements was a bit weirder.
Since it seemed to take Ron forever to finish his coffee, the house elves simply finished with their cleaning and walked out of the kitchen without words. Bobbler seemed to find it necessary to run a rag over the table top one more time on his way out.
"Oh." Ron hadn't realized he was taking so long. Time seemed to fly when one's mind was full of happy thoughts. "I'll just wash my cup and we can go."
He was certain Eppy wouldn't like him to just leave the cup in the sink.
Harry looked up at Ron, expression mild. Something wasn't right in here. "Bob seemed to have some problems with the table. He kept scrubbing it every time he walked by. You wouldn't happen to know anything about it now would you?"
"Oh fuck!" Blinking, Ron spun around to stare at his best friend. It was fortunate that he had already put the cup in the sink or he'd have to try to explain shards of porcelain as well.
What the hell could he tell Harry? Not the truth. Never the truth. "I kind of..." Something intelligent! Spilled something on the table! Dropped a used sock on it! Threw up on it after getting totally drunk! Anything but the truth. "I kind of shagged Malfoy there last night."
He could hear the words come out but couldn't believe he was really saying it out loud.
"You shagged Malfoy?" Harry stared at Ron, not believing he could joke about something like that after all that had happened between those two. Ron had never seemed to tolerate any comments about Malfoy, not back at the cottage, not when they'd moved here together, and this offhand quip didn't sound at all funny. Then he realized that he was telling the truth. No stupid joke could ever make him look that shocked. "You shagged Malfoy."
It was quite strange to saying it out loud like that. For the first time, Harry realized just how it must have felt to hear that he was shagging Snape.
At least they had never done it on the kitchen table.
"You shagged Draco Malfoy on the kitchen table? Our kitchen table?" Somehow the fact that they had done it here and he had eaten breakfast on this very table this morning was worse than the fact that Ron had actually had sex with Malfoy.
Ron's ears went hot.
Yeah. He had shagged Malfoy and it had been the best shag of his life. He had no idea why he wasn't freaking out, he should be horrified by the shagging itself, not to mention the fact that he'd actually told about it to Harry.
Harry really didn't want to deal with this, but he had to ask, "Was it consensual?" When Ron said nothing and simply stared, he walked closer and nudged him. "Ron! Did Malfoy force you into something?" He didn't even want to think if he should ask if Ron forced Malfoy into something.
Blinking, Ron looked up and mumbled, "I shagged Malfoy on the table." He sounded ridiculously proud of himself, and the grin spreading to his face just added to it.
"Please never say that to me again." Harry was definitely going to replace the table. However, he was glad Ron wasn't going to have another panic attack because of this. "And Ron?" Waiting until his friend was looking at him, he smirked. "You shagged Malfoy?"
"Oh shut up!" It wasn't like he was planning to shag him again! He'd needed to do this with Malfoy and now he'd done it, he would never again touch him. He didn't want Malfoy like that. Once was enough to prove he was the man and now he needed nothing more from the Slytherin.
Glowering at the way Harry was now openly laughing at him, Ron ignored the little voice in his head calling him a liar.
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Date: 2006-11-12 09:02 pm (UTC)And Harry's reaction. Too darn funny. ;)
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Date: 2006-11-12 10:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-13 05:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-13 05:34 pm (UTC)*smiles*