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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 - May 2007
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Five: - It's time to try to save the world. Fools and idiots may be the wizards' only hope. Revenge does indeed taste strange. Kinda furry.
Warning: This part contains deaths, gore, total stupidity, explicit sex between men, disturbing themes and angst.
The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.
Holding the towel loosely in his hand, Ron looked into the mirror and grinned. His hair was standing on end. At least his reflection was simply there, a mirror image of him instead of another Ron Weasley moving around and commenting on how ridiculous he looked.
He dropped the towel on the floor and then ran his fingers through his messy hair, barely managing to smooth the wild strands. Not exactly presentable, but good enough for going to bed.
Whichever bed he chose to go to.
The fear of encountering a darker glare than usual made him tidy the bathroom a bit; mop the wet floor with the towel before putting the towel into the hamper, pick up his clothes, that sort of thing. He tried to find the idea of Snape actually showering funny, but it only managed to give him the creeps. Snape naked anywhere was a fodder for nightmares.
It almost made him choose to go to bed alone. Almost.
Padding across the hallway, Ron glanced at the firmly shut door on the right and shuddered a little. No matter how hard he tried to get used to Snape's presence in the house, it was probably something he'd always find totally unnatural. But it wasn't really his problem. As long as the git spent most of his time in the cellar, he was kind of all right with it. In a weird and disgusting way.
He had bigger things to worry about. The training wasn't about showing off and making silly jokes anymore, it all felt so real these days, now that the fighting seemed to be right around the corner. No one could hide from the reality anymore.
The worry and all the things they went through every day made him so tired, but not tired enough to just crawl under the blankets and sleep through the whole night. With everything else, there was constant tension, and his body reacted to it seemingly automatically, almost thrumming with all the nervous excitement.
As usual, there was a good remedy for that.
It would be good to do something that would take his mind off the constant war and he could bet Malfoy would be just as eager as he was. He always was. The Slytherin spent his days flying with Harry and the other Quidditch players, but even with all the excitement during the day, he never walked away from the possibility of shagging.
The thought made Ron grin. Slytherins!
He stood at the doorway for a moment, hesitating before he could step inside. For some reason he didn't want to go to Malfoy's room tonight, preferring to stay on his own turf.
It wasn't something he thought of often, the decision between getting up and crawling across the hall to his own room and just falling asleep and risking rolling into the wet spot made when it was actually an issue. Most of the nights he chose to leave Malfoy to deal with the mess, sneaking back into his own room, but all the thoughts about Snape made him reluctant to risk the nightly hallway tonight.
The bastard had spent decades patrolling Hogwarts at night. He was bound to sneak around the house as well. Let Malfoy deal with the possibility of running into him while being half naked and smelling of sex.
They had no script for this, no words or hidden looks for deciding things. He waited for Malfoy to come up and take care of his evening routines and then they kind of went straight to business and ended up in someone's bed, happy and sticky.
Yanking his favorite T-shirt down a bit -- and yes, it was definitely too small for him -- Ron stood there waiting, knowing he wouldn't have to wait for long.
He didn't like waiting, but was usually willing to be patient. Something was different today, and by the time Malfoy finally came upstairs, he glared at him before the annoyance morphed into anticipation.
"Weasley." Malfoy's voice was quiet as he nodded at him as he passed him by
Ron answered the nod with one of his own. "Malfoy." He sounded rusty, as if he hadn't spoken for a while, the sound mirroring the dull ache inside.
There were no words, there was no need for those these days, and he gestured at his own room, not even waiting for Malfoy to nod again before heading towards his bed. It was a nightly ritual, like washing his hands before dinner, and it always played the same.
No matter how hard the day was, there was always this; the unnamed connection between Malfoy and him, something he couldn't even begin to describe even if he wanted to. And he definitely didn't want to think of names or definitions for something that should be just as simple as it was; fucking.
It was damn convenient to have Malfoy in his bed. Not that he would admit that to anyone. It had taken him a long time to even admit it to himself, but these days, he was almost comfortable with the thought. For once Malfoy had been right; he didn't have to like the bastard to like fucking him.
Sex didn't have to change anything.
The door closed behind Malfoy, and the sound alone made him shiver. He was tired, but not that tired, and the idea of Malfoy's body writhing under his was enough to drive all thoughts of sleep away.
Not bothering to say anything, Ron turned to Malfoy, pulling him close as soon as the bed dipped.
He took the control of the first kiss, determined not to give Malfoy a chance to try anything funny. It was always a rush to feel Malfoy's mouth open under his and respond to his kiss, the capitulation hesitant at first and then complete as Ron took everything Malfoy was willing to give.
One kiss lead to others, and soon Ron was pulling Malfoy's flying robes off, needing to feel the soft skin and strong muscle hidden beneath the heavy cloth.
Malfoy's hands were already under his T-shirt, his lips curling into a smile against Ron's lips and driving him just as insane as his touch did. It was always enough to make Ron burn with a mixture of anger and lust and his movements turned frantic.
Sometimes Malfoy simply went with it, surrendering to his need as if it was somehow too much to fight. Now it looked like the angry lust was contagious.
They barely had enough time -- or brain cells left -- to put their wands securely on the nightstand before Malfoy's robes pooled on the floor with various knick knacks and small coins falling from his pockets, bouncing on the thick carpet before rolling under the bed. Malfoy bent down to collect something, giving Ron a perfect view of his arse, and once again it got a little hazy after that.
All Ron could think of was getting that arse naked and in bed.
He peeled off Malfoy's clothes layer after layer until he had him naked, working without thought. This was familiar by now, the need to touch and be touched, the small twinge of guilt for doing something like this with Malfoy so faint he could almost ignore it completely.
It was drowned when Malfoy's hands moved to undress him.
Malfoy grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and tried to yank it over his head, growling as it didn't really work. He yanked again, and one of the small tears at the hemline finally gave up, splitting the shirt in two as Malfoy's strong hands searched for bare skin.
The sound of tearing cloth was astonishingly loud. Ron groaned as he felt his shirt rip, the nice familiar haze disappearing somewhere. Losing his favorite Cannons T-shirt was definitely a mood killer. "Damn it, Malfoy. That's my favorite shirt!"
"I'll buy you another one." There was more ripping as questing hands moved over Ron's chest.
Ron lay absolutely still while the words rang in his head over and over again. Malfoy would buy him another shirt.
They were in bed and Malfoy was destroying his favorite shirt, the one his father had bought him after saving for it for months and he thought it would be enough to just buy him another one?
But of course. He was Draco Malfoy, and he had enough money to buy anything in the world.
He rolled to his side. "Get off me!"
It was surprisingly easy to push Malfoy away, the balance between lust and anger shifting so that for once the lust was losing to the burning anger building inside.
"What is it now?" Malfoy asked, exasperation evident in him, and the way he looked at Ron told all too clearly that he had no idea what was making him push him away.
Ron seethed with anger. He wasn't going to lie here and let Malfoy use that superior tone at him anymore.
He'd be damned if he ever let Malfoy buy him anything!
It came out a bit differently. "I'm not your fucking whore!" Ron snarled from between clenched teeth.
The words seemed to almost echo in the room, and even Ron cringed a little at the way they sounded; mean and sharp and full of venom.
He didn't regret them. Things had changed a lot recently, with people looking up to him, seeing the youngest son of Minister Weasley instead of a poor kid who would be a nobody if he didn't have Harry Potter's friendship. But Malfoy never seemed to change, and here was once again proof that he saw Ron as he always had, looking at him with amusement and superiority showing in every look and gesture he made.
Now the bastard didn't even try to hide it, offering him money for... He didn't really know what.
Probably not just for the shirt, but everything possible. Ron couldn't really tell; it was all a jumble in his mind. All he did know was that he had already sold out on most of his principles concerning sleeping with people he didn't even like, and this was simply too much.
"You really think I would do that?" For the first time in ages, there was resignation in Malfoy's eyes, and it was clear from his expression that he could almost taste the bile in his mouth. "You really think..." Seeing the awful truth in Ron's flaming gaze, he shrugged, as if getting rid of the pain, coldness replacing all doubts. "Fine then."
Ron stared as Malfoy got off the bed and just looked at him for a while.
He didn't know what to say, seeing quite clearly that his words had actually managed to hurt Malfoy and sort of hating himself for that. Never really good at articulating his feelings -- or even acknowledging most of them -- he didn't know what to say, knowing only that whatever words came out next would probably be something he'd never even dreamed of using while addressing any of the Slytherins.
Especially Malfoy.
Gathering his clothes from the floor, Draco picked up a Galleon he'd dropped only moments ago when undressing had been the most important thing in the whole world and squeezed it so hard his hand hurt.
This was going to end right now.
It had been good for a while, with Weasley getting over stuff and saving all the stupid outbursts for the training hall. Things outside were insane, and it had always been easy in bed; Weasley holding him tight and making his skin burn. Shagging like that was for fun and an end of its own, it had nothing to do with guilt or games and he had reveled in it.
No amount of guilt or desire or need would make him do this anymore. Whatever problems Weasley had were his own and didn't have anything to do with him.
He didn't want mushy emotionalism like the looks thrown between Black and Lupin when they were once again harboring the delusions no one could see. This wasn't a relationship, this was never going to be one. He wanted the connection with someone who wasn't repulsive and knew what was going on. Weasley fit both categories and for a moment it had seemed like they were actually seeking the same.
Now he understood it was all an illusion, and he was going to walk away and never come back.
Draco finished pulling on his pants, and straightened his back, unwilling to linger here longer even if it meant walking around in his underwear. The Galleon in his hand felt awfully hot, and he realized he was holding something that would hit Weasley just as hard as his words had hit Draco.
Throwing the coin at Weasley as an adequate payment for the services that were no longer needed would hit the arrogant redhead right where it would hurt the most, and for the first time in ages, Draco would revel in the pain his actions would cause.
"Don't go."
The tone from Weasley made Draco hesitate, and he looked up from the Galleon. He'd never heard that tone on Weasley, especially when he was talking to him. "What do you want?"
Ron stared at Malfoy, trying to remember all the nasty and evil things he'd ever done to him. It didn't really work. All he could remember was how Malfoy had already apologized for all the bad things that had happened to his family and that he had practically laughed in his face.
He didn't want to be like that. "I'm... I'm sorry, all right?"
It came out sullen and more as an accusation than a real apology. For a few moments Draco couldn't comprehend just exactly what Weasley had said. Then he raised an eyebrow, his hand forming a protecting fist over the golden Galleon. As an apology, that was completely unacceptable.
Sighing, Ron brushed his palm across his face and then said, "I mean it. Not just because of the sex and not because of..." He couldn't really think of anything else tangible enough to force him to apologize. He kept his eyes focused on Malfoy even though looking at him was even harder than saying the words. "I really mean it. I'm sorry." Even if Malfoy was a bastard at times, he wasn't bad all the time.
It was insane how the way Malfoy nodded to accept his apology made him sigh with relief.
Insane and wrong on so many levels he couldn't even begin to describe them. But he knew that apologizing to Malfoy was not something he should do. It was probably even worse than shagging him.
"I really shouldn't want this..." Ron muttered, needing to fill the silence with something, since it looked like Malfoy wasn't about to return to bed. Then again it didn't look like he was about to leave, so maybe he hadn't ruined everything. "I shouldn't like this. Or... you know..." He wasn't going to add he wasn't supposed to like Malfoy, even if that was what his silly brain had conjured up.
Draco cocked his head. "Why?" He wasn't sure why Weasley was making such a big deal of it it; he hadn't done or said anything to insult him or his friends for ages. The verbal sparring was exciting and the following sex was fantastic. So what on earth was the problem?
"I..." Ron couldn't really use Malfoy's father as an excuse anymore. Nor could he make comments about him being a Slytherin; Blaise was one and he wasn't that bad. "Because I'm supposed to marry a nice Gryffindor girl and have a family." It just came out and sounded silly even in his own ears, but ever since he'd been a kid, he'd known that was what Weasley men were supposed to do.
He could see from the slight softening of Malfoy's gaze that Malfoy knew all about duty and the way things were supposed to be. Then he realized that it had always been like that with Malfoy. He had been supposed to follow his father's footsteps, become a Death Eater, do things too awful to mention and enjoy every damn minute of it.
Not really liking the implications of his own thoughts, Ron waited for Malfoy to say something about his inane words or maybe laugh at him, wondering why this was so damn hard. He shouldn't be with Malfoy, shouldn't want to spend time with him or shag him or talk about Quidditch with him, but it didn't change the fact that doing all those things was nice. Probably one of the nicest things in life right now.
Draco let his hands relax, his robes and the Galleon falling to the floor unnoticed. "I am not asking you to marry me." There were so many things he could say, most probably things Weasley was thinking right now if that overly serious look on his face was any indication, but he could only manage this.
"Yeah." Smiling hesitantly, Ron was glad Malfoy was willing to let it go. "That would definitely be weird."
They were actually grinning at the same stupid joke and the world wasn't coming to an end. That alone was a miracle.
"So... What happens now?" Ron might be able to joke with Malfoy, just a bit, but he didn't want to ask him to come back to bed. Sure, he would ask if that's what it took, but that would make it serious again and he was really not comfortable with that kind of a discussion.
The reply was highly satisfying in all its elegance, even though there were no words until Malfoy was crawling back to bed all naked.
"What happens next is that I'm going to kiss you. Right now," Draco muttered, his lips a breath away from Weasley's. The kiss was soft, teasing. "And then I'm going to taste you." Another kiss. "And then I'm going to suck you off."
Ron had absolutely no objections to that plan. "Yeah. Okay."
Licking the corner of Weasley's mouth, Draco added, "And then you can bring me off any way you want to." It was a dare and they both knew it. Until now, he'd only felt Weasley's hand on his prick when they had been shagging, and it had probably never even occurred to the redhead to reciprocate the occasional blowjob he gave him. That would have to change, if not tonight, then sometime soon.
Draco was perfectly fine with Weasley shagging him, but the other thing felt too much like being used, and he wasn't going to allow that. Not anymore.
Ron swallowed. He wasn't sure if he could actually try to take Malfoy's prick into his mouth -- and definitely not if that meant going down on his knees in front of him -- but the challenge in the gray eyes made him determined to at least consider it. It wasn't as if he wasn't as brave as Malfoy! If he could suck prick and be so blasé about it, so could he. "Sure."