Chapter XIV

January 10th 1997

I want to show him what he means to me – I want to show everyone. There has to be a way. How could something that feels so perfect be wrong?

January 1997

Sunday

They slept until noon, just as Draco wanted. At least, Draco slept until noon while Ron woke up every hour in panic, only to force himself into a fitful sleep again. Ron was so used to heading back to the dorm at an early hour that this felt so completely wrong – like he was trespassing.

He knew Harry probably wanted to talk to him when they woke, go down to breakfast together, and probably try to bridge the gap that had so subtly risen up in their friendship. If Ron felt the slightest bit guilty about that, the feeling was overpowered by worry. He didn’t know how to explain where he had been all morning. It was one thing to say he had left the dorm early for breakfast, but when no one had seen him all day? Then what?

Ron tried to relax by focusing on the feeling of a soft, warm Draco in his arms. It did help considerably, if he managed not to think about what had happened before they had gone to sleep. The only thought Ron had put into it was the mental note that he made to remind himself to go to the library and look up a spell to hide Draco’s initials on his chest. He would remove the spell before his nightly meetings with Draco, of course, but if he ever got caught without a shirt on, there would be no way to explain why he just happened to have the initials DM on his chest. It would be a stretch, but all of his other injuries could be explained. He knew it would be too complicated to try to cover them all – he would be lucky if he could hide this one.

The initials were rather large – even when Ron placed his hand over them, the points of the M and the top of the D were still very visible.

Ron sighed and shifted onto his side, tightening his hold on Draco. Draco let out a soft, contented sigh, burrowing closer to Ron’s warmth. It seemed like he would never wake. Ron wasn’t sure if he should actually try to wake Draco up, or just continue to wait. Draco’s temper had always been bad, but now it was more unpredictable than ever. Ron smirked, oddly amused by the irony. After he had finally figured out how to keep from pissing Draco off, after he had spent so long learning all of Draco’s little nuances, learning how to appease him, make him laugh, and keep him happy – everything changed. The things that used to make him smile now made him sad, the things that would calm and comfort him made him angry and insecure. It would take time, but Ron was sure he would figure everything out once more. After all, he had endured months filled with anger and fighting before he had figured it out the first time. It wouldn’t be fun, but he could do it again.

Suddenly feeling rather bold, Ron decided to start that process right away. His hand moved up to Draco’s shoulder and shook him lightly. If there was one thing Ron was sure of, it was never wake Draco violently. It had to be slow and easy, or Draco would probably hex whoever was waking him into oblivion. Draco groaned and buried his face in Ron’s chest, and Ron could do nothing to stop the startled gasp that escaped him when Draco’s face rubbed up against the sore wounds.

“Wake up, Draco,” Ron said gently, shaking off the pain as he trailed his fingers through Draco’s sleep-mussed hair.

“Not now,” Draco mumbled, “sleeping.”

Ron smiled and touched his lips to the top of Draco’s head – not exactly a kiss, just a soft, loving touch. At least one thing hadn’t changed – Draco wasn’t a morning person, but at least he could be sweet about it.

“It’s noon already,” Ron whispered against Draco’s hair, his fingers continuing their languid caresses.

“Mm,” he mumbled, “‘kay.” Draco’s pressed his lips to Ron’s chest, tilting his head and letting his tongue slip out to lightly run over a nipple. His lips curved into a sly smile against Ron’s chest, and it was suddenly very obvious that he was much more aware of his surroundings than he let on.

Ron let out a shaky breath, trying to hide just how aroused he was getting over such a simple gesture. “You don’t care, do you?” he asked lightly, sliding a knee between Draco’s pliant legs.

“Not really, no,” Draco drawled, finally lifting his head to look at Ron. “We could stay here all day.”

Effortlessly, Ron rolled himself on top of Draco. Just for an instant, Draco looked mildly surprised, maybe a little affronted, but it just as quickly faded into a contented smirk. “All day?” Ron asked teasingly, “We have an essay to write.”

“So we’ll write it later.” Draco linked his arms behind Ron’s neck, his fingers curling into thick, soft hair, lightly rubbing a finger over the small bald spot he had created a few days earlier. “Can’t you think of anything better to do?”

“Maybe one thing,” Ron answered, wondering why his voice came out sounding wistful instead of the seductive tone he had been aiming for. Draco quirked an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Ron covered his mouth with his own.

Whatever Draco had planned on saying faded into a sleepy, needy moan, and his arms tightened around Ron’s neck, holding him close. Ron’s hands drifted up to thread through Draco’s hair as his tongue lazily slid into Draco’s mouth, which was still slightly bitter from sleep, but Ron had stopped caring about that a long time ago. It was careful, lazy, and so unbelievably normal that Ron couldn’t help but question his own sanity once more.

After a moment, Draco shifted, moving so Ron was now fully between his legs, and hooking them around Ron’s waist. Ron looked down at him, searching his face, somewhat surprised that it was going to work out this way. The surprise must have been obvious, because Draco smirked.

“What?” he asked coolly, looking up at Ron in faux innocence.

Ron shrugged. “Nothing.” Nothing, just that he never thought he would be allowed to top again. But that probably wasn’t something he should be saying out loud. He just wasn’t a violent person – not with Draco, at least. Every touch was exquisitely soft and gentle, the complete opposite of what Draco had been wanting lately. But if Draco expected this to be rough... well, that was one thing Ron could never do.

He trailed his hands down Draco’s body; petting, loving, worshipping. Draco closed his eyes and sighed softly, his hands rubbing and caressing Ron’s shoulders; massaging, almost. He had missed this. Without even realising it, he had been longing for Ron’s tender touch and guidance – a moment of calm in the midst of this storm where he could just relax and let Ron take control.

Ron’s fingers trailed down slowly, tracing over light ridges of Draco’s ribs, tickling softly over the flat planes of his stomach, causing Draco to smile and wiggle in an unmotivated struggle. Ron grinned and moved his hands to Draco’s sides, running his fingers up to Draco’s ribs and down to his pointy hips, all while trailing kisses from Draco’s stomach up to his chest and neck. Draco was ready and waiting when Ron reached his face and their lips meshed together once more.

Ron’s hands continued to roam, relearning every sharp angle of Draco’s body. He had been carefully avoiding the sensitive areas, but now Draco was starting to whine impatiently, and Ron’s resolve was crumbling. But it seemed like an eternity since he and Draco had had a moment like this, and he wanted to draw it out as long as he could.

Draco gazed up at him; waiting, wanting. His mind was reeling, grasping for a coherent thought. Something wasn’t making sense to him; something seemed just out of his reach – like a forgotten dream that comes back in unexpected, jumbled fragments. It was like this very moment was a dream – a very, very good dream that somehow had taken on a nightmarish quality. His breath hitched in fear as Ron’s delicate touches suddenly seemed menacing and painful.

“Ron,” he said pleadingly, waveringly. His hands moved to grip Ron’s shoulders tightly.

Ron paused, immediately responding to the change in Draco’s voice. “What is it?” he asked softly, moving his hands up to rest on either side of Draco’s face, holding it gently. “Are you okay?”

“I...” Draco shifted uncomfortably, searching for words to explain what he didn’t fully understand. “No. I don’t know.” His chest was rising and falling rapidly - panic gripping him.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Ron wanted to kiss him, wanted to make this better somehow, but he didn’t know what Draco’s reaction would be. “We, um, we can stop now... if you want. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” He was upset and a little frustrated. This one moment of normalcy disappeared so quickly. He should have been used to it by now, should have come to expect it, but he just couldn’t help it. The most painful thing in the world was watching someone he loved shatter and fade away – it wasn’t something he could just accept. He would never admit it - not out loud. He would never, ever say that there was something mentally wrong with Draco. To say that would be to admit that he’s never coming back.

That was the one thing that magic could never do: cure someone with a mental illness. Ron knew that as well as anyone. Neville’s parents, for instance; there was nothing that could be done for them. They were doomed to live at St. Mungo’s for the rest of their lives after being tortured to insanity. Same for Gilderoy Lockhart. Magic couldn’t fix the mind; magic couldn’t even reverse a simple memory charm. There were countless cures for physical ailments, but there was hardly a single one for repairing the mind. It wasn’t fair; it just wasn’t fair.

Draco bit his lip indecisively, never releasing his hold on Ron’s shoulders. He didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know why this moment of pure bliss suddenly frightened him. “I don’t make you happy anymore,” he whispered brokenly. Where the words had come from, he didn’t know. But now that they had been said, his mind latched onto the idea, and he couldn’t think anything else.

“No, no, don’t say that,” Ron said comfortingly, his hands caressing Draco’s face pleadingly. “I’ve never been happier. You’re the only one in the world who can make me feel this way.”

“I... I...” Draco growled, frustrated with himself. “Granger-”

“No,” Ron interrupted, “Stop worrying about her. I already told you that I’m through with her – she doesn’t matter anymore.”

Draco glanced away from Ron’s face, defeated, and his eyes landed on the carving on Ron’s chest. “Oh,” he breathed, trailing his hand over the lines, lightly picking at some of the dry, crackled blood that had been smeared around it. Ron froze. “That looks so good... Do you like it?” His gaze moved back up to Ron’s face, searching his eyes imploringly.

“Er, well, um...” Ron tried to break eye contact, but somehow couldn’t make himself look away. Draco looked so sweet, like he really thought carving his initials into Ron’s chest was a wonderful thing. “Yeah,” he said finally, leaning down and brushing his nose against Draco’s. “I love it.”

Draco’s face lit up, his eyes sparkling like they used to. His hand drifted up to the back of Ron’s head, pulling him into a gentle kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered against Ron’s lips. He didn’t realise that Ron’s lips were quivering with sadness against his own.

Ron sat up on knees suddenly, his arms sliding around Draco’s shoulders and pulling him up, too; their lips never parting. After a brief struggle, Draco adjusted to the new position, straddling Ron’s lap and leaning down so he could deepen their kiss.

Draco pulled back the slightest bit, allowing himself to whisper, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He emphasising each ‘I love you’ with a quick, tender kiss.

Ron’s face turned a soft shade of red – he still hadn’t grown used to hearing Draco express his emotions so freely. “I-” Draco cut him off with another quick kiss. “I love you,” Ron finally managed, smiling.

After a few more light kisses, Draco pulled back once more, studying Ron’s face. Ron shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his stare, wondering if he should look back at Draco, or keep his eyes down.

Finally, Draco dipped back down and pressed one last kiss to Ron’s lips. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Go?” Ron repeated dazedly, his arms subconsciously tightening their hold on Draco.

Draco squirmed a bit, trying half heartedly to slip out of Ron’s grasp. “Well, we do have an essay to write.”

“Essay?” Ron cringed, wanting to punch himself for being unable to form a coherent sentence. “We... now?”

Draco snickered. “Yes, yes, essay. Now.”

Ron stared at him blankly. “But-”

“Hush,” Draco said gently, placing a finger over Ron’s lips. “We already stayed in here longer than we should have. This was a bad idea, Ron.”

“I-”

“Don’t apologise,” Draco said warmly, nuzzling the side of Ron’s face. “I like spending time with you. We just can’t let this happen again. Just, next time, think of a different way for us to spend extra time together, okay?” He kissed Ron’s cheek and slid off his lap, while Ron stared at him blankly.

Finally, Ron couldn’t take it anymore. Knowing it was probably a mistake, he asked, “This was my idea?” It came out sounding much more frustrated and offended than he had intended. He cringed, hoping Draco wouldn’t notice.

Draco, who had already gotten his trousers on and was now grabbing his shirt off the floor, glanced back up at Ron. “Well... yes.” He looked a little confused, and Ron couldn’t help but feel guilty. But he just had to keep asking questions.

“You said you wanted to sleep until noon.”

“I... What? No, I didn’t.”

“Okay,” Ron said slowly, trying to keep his tone light and conversational, “What happened last night?”

Draco seemed to be shrinking away, curling in on himself, shaking nervously. “W-why?” he asked, holding his shirt against himself protectively.

“No reason, really, I just...” Ron paused, choosing his words carefully. “I just wanted to know if you remember it the same way I do.”

Draco laughed shakily. “Well, we were both there, weren’t we? It’s... it’s the same.”

Ron slid to the edge of the bed, getting as close to Draco as he could without standing. He hated himself for confusing Draco like this, but he just had to try. Draco was a logical person; maybe talking through what had happened would bring him back to normal. “And this?” Ron asked, running his fingers over the letters on his chest. “Why did you do this?”

Draco glanced nervously between Ron’s chest and his face, breathing rapidly. He couldn’t understand why Ron was talking to him like this, why he was questioning him. It didn’t make sense – everything was just fine until now.

“You said you liked it!”

“That’s not what I asked, though,” Ron said quietly, pushing forward despite his better judgment. “I want to know why.” There was no good reason why – this had to work, it just had to. But there was silence. Draco’s entire body seemed to be crumpling, and he stared down at the floor – a feeble attempt at hiding his agonised expression.

“Draco?” Ron prompted warily, trying to look into his eyes.

“What’s this about?” Draco demanded brokenly, throwing his shirt down in frustration. “You don’t trust me? If you’re... leaving me... just-”

“No!” Ron said quickly, jumping off the bed and wrapping his arms around Draco tightly. “No, no, that’s not – never, Draco. I’m not going anywhere.”

Draco trembled helplessly against him, face buried in Ron’s neck, his fingers digging into Ron’s shoulder blades painfully. Ron ignored the shooting stabs of pain coming from his neck and chest – he hardly even felt it. He was so attuned to Draco’s emotions in that moment that he barely noticed his own anymore.

He began to gently sway, rubbing Draco’s back comfortingly as he whispered gentle condolences in his ear. Draco was breathing as if he were crying, but Ron didn’t feel any tears hit his skin. They stayed that way for several minutes, Ron continuously rocking him and speaking softly, until Draco’s trembling slowly subsided. All was still and silent for a moment.

“I’m so sorry, Draco,” Ron whispered finally, even though he had said it countless times already.

Draco let out a shuddering breath and pulled back to look at Ron, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around him. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered, his eyes glistening, “please, Ron. Don’t – I can’t – I need you.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Ron said earnestly, sliding one of his hands from Draco’s back up to caress his face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Just trust me, you have to trust me.” Draco’s nails dug deeper into Ron’s back, subconsciously emphasising his words. “Don’t ask me – I just...” he trailed off, looking up into Ron’s eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Completely,” Ron answered immediately.

Draco smiled. “Good.” He leaned up and captured Ron’s lips, letting his embedded nails drag down Ron’s back. Ron didn’t notice or care.

They left for their dorm rooms a few minutes later – Draco heading out first, Ron following shortly afterward.

Ron entered the dorm room just in time to hear the end of Harry’s declaration, “I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.” Suddenly feeling awkward, Ron slid in silently, closing the door behind him.

“Ron!” Harry gasped, dropping the Marauder’s Map on the floor in surprise. “There you are! I was just – Where have you been all day!?”

“Oh, well...” Ron kept his eyes trained on the floor. He could only hope there wasn’t any trace of blood on his face. “You know... around.”

“No one had seen you since last night,” Harry informed him, picking up his fallen map. “I was starting to get worried.”

Ron nodded absently. The only reason he had come back to the dorm was to get his bag so he could meet up with Draco in the library. He found his bag shoved halfway under his bed – it must have gotten pushed under there when he was trying to hide the gifts from Hogsmeade. A stab of pain went with that thought, and Ron winced.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked curiously.

Ron jumped, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been. “Just getting my books. I have to work on that essay with Malfoy.” He sneered appropriately upon mentioning Draco, then his face fell back into the expression it held more and more often recently – stoic.

“Oh.” Harry frowned. He still wasn’t satisfied with Ron’s answer as to where he had been all day.

“Right,” Ron said quickly, carefully not giving Harry a chance to ask any more questions. “So I’ll see you later.” With that, he hurried out of the dorm room.

He took the stairs two at a time, in fear that Harry might decide to follow him. But by the time he reached the common room and opened the portrait door, he hadn’t heard any sound that indicated Harry was following him. With a soft sigh of relief, Ron left Gryffindor Tower and started the long walk down to the library.

When he arrived, he didn’t see Draco anywhere. Assuming Draco hadn’t shown up yet, it gave Ron the perfect opportunity to search for a proper charm to hide the markings on his chest. He slowly made his way down the rows of books, scanning the titles. All he needed was a simple charm – it shouldn’t be too hard to find.

Unfortunately, as he scanned the titles, he realised finding a useful spell would be more difficult than he originally anticipated. There were so many different books and encyclopaedias – he didn’t know where to start. He flipped through a few thick books, but none of them seemed very promising.

He sighed. He would just have to look later, when he had more time. He didn’t want Draco to show up and figure out what he was doing. Placing the book he currently held back on the shelf, he decided he would go find a table for him and Draco to work at. He didn’t want it to be too out in the open – just in case Hermione came looking for him. He couldn’t risk being found out.

As he headed toward a cluster of tables toward the back of the library, an abandoned magazine on the table closest to him caught his eye. 

It was latest addition of Witch Weekly. And there, right on the cover in bold print, it read, “Tired of ugly blemishes? Cover them up with this handy concealment charm!”

Ron stared down at the magazine in shock, watching the witch on the front cover frown at a pimple that appeared on her face, then flick her wand, making it disappear immediately. She now smiled up at him, elated. That was exactly what he needed. Granted, he was trying to cover up something quite a bit bigger than the average pimple, but it was definitely worth a try.

After a quick look around to make sure no one was paying attention, Ron grabbed the magazine and shoved it into his bag. It didn’t belong to the library, so he figured some girls had just forgotten it or something. Either way, no one was going to find out he had it – that would be humiliating.

Feeling much better now that he had a solution to his problem, Ron continued table-hunting. He found one in the very back study room, pushed over in a corner, shielded by bookshelves. The room was empty, and no one would be able to find this particular table unless they were actually looking for it – Ron didn’t even know it existed until just now. He placed his bag down in one of the chairs and was just about to turn around and head back toward the library doors to wait for Draco when a pair of arms wrapped themselves gently around his waist.

“Hey,” Draco said softly, kissing Ron’s neck just under his ear. For a second, Ron nearly panicked. But the room was empty – what harm could a quick, affectionate greeting do?

“Hi,” Ron answered just as quietly, his heart fluttering happily as he turned around in Draco’s arms. No matter what happened, nothing could take away the excited, warm feelings that gripped him every time he and Draco were alone like this. He reached up, gently trailing his hand through Draco’s hair, absently toying with the silky strands on the back of his neck. “We should get started.”

Draco nodded and tightened his hold for just a moment before stepping out of the embrace and taking a seat at the table. His cooperation took Ron by surprise – maybe Draco was actually going to behave himself for once.

“Okay,” Draco said, his tone strictly businesslike now as he pulled out their unfinished essay. He scanned over it as Ron sat down next to him. “We don’t have much more to do. This shouldn’t take too long.” He slid the parchment over to Ron as he dug his Potions text and a couple of library books about different potion ingredients out of his bag.

Ron read over it as well, pleasantly surprised at how good it was so far. He was actually going to get a good grade, but not simply because he relied on Draco. They just worked well together, Potions actually made sense and was quite enjoyable with Draco there to explain things to him.

“Why don’t you start the section on bicorn horn?” Draco suggested, flipping open to the Polyjuice Potion section of his book. He scanned over the page and drew an arrow next to one of the paragraphs, then slid the book over to Ron. “The basics are right here.”

Ron nodded and read over the paragraph Draco had marked, twirling his quill between his fingers. When he thought of something suitable, he began writing. Draco was flipping through his other books, searching for more important details to add in after Ron had finished. Ron couldn’t help but notice, when he glanced over at Draco, that there was no trace of blood left on him. His nails were perfect once more, except for the one he had torn. His eyes drifted up to Draco’s face – it was stern, serious, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Ron didn’t realise he had been staring until Draco’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “See something you like?” Draco turned his head slightly, looking at Ron with a soft smile.

Ron’s face turned red and he quickly looked back down at the essay. “Maybe.”

Draco laughed lightly, his hand sliding under the table to squeeze Ron’s leg. Ron immediately tensed – this wasn’t a good idea, not at all, and he shouldn’t be encouraging it. He had almost forgotten that things weren’t exactly normal between them.

“Right, so,” Ron said quickly, passing the essay back over to Draco. “My part’s finished.”

Distracted, Draco picked up the parchment in his free hand and read what Ron had written. The hand on Ron’s leg began trailing up and down, but not doing anything too obvious.

“Okay, good,” Draco said approvingly. He gave Ron’s leg one last squeeze, then pulled his hand away and began to write his segment – his elegant, slanted script next to Ron’s untidy scrawl.

All was quiet for a moment; the only sound was of Draco’s quill scratching delicately against the parchment, and every few minutes, the soft, wet click of the quill being dipped in ink. It was rather peaceful.

“Can I ask you something?” Draco asked quietly, although his voice seemed unnaturally loud in the silence of the room.

“You just did,” Ron answered teasingly, poking Draco’s side. Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head, but otherwise didn’t look up from the essay. “Oh, fine,” Ron sighed, “Of course you can. What is it?”

“Well, it’s just... I realised just now that you never told me when you started liking me or – or why. So I want to know.” He sat down his quill, finally turning his attention to Ron.

“When? God, Draco, I don’t know. It’s not like it happened overnight.”

Draco frowned. “You have no idea?”

“I might come up with something later... after I’ve had a while to think about it.” He paused, scratching the back of his head absently. “But I think I can tell you why.”

“Tell me,” Draco said eagerly, turning in his chair to face Ron completely.

Ron stared down at the table, suddenly a little embarrassed. “It’s just... everyone – well, Hermione and Harry, at least... they were all so... preoccupied. It seemed like, with the constant threat of You Know Who, everyone forgot what it was like to be happy. But you were just, I don’t know... different. You were always smiling, always happy – I think... I think I was attracted to that.”

Draco arched an eyebrow. “You think?”

“Well, like I said, it didn’t happen overnight. But I think what made it happen is just... I would see you, see the things that you were doing – you didn’t care if you were being an annoying little prat, you just wanted to have fun. Like, you know, who else would dress up as a Dementor and run out on the Quidditch pitch during the middle of a game? You’re just... a beautiful person. Without realising it, I was happier around you. It wasn’t a good day until you did something completely annoying and aggravated everyone.”

He looked up at Draco, who was staring down at the floor, attempting to hide his smile and the way his face had turned a soft shade of pink. Ron brought his hand up to Draco’s face, stroking his cheek lightly, then moved it down under his chin, coaxing him to look back up. When their eyes met, Ron smiled. “Then I began to notice things... like how your eyes sparkled when you’re really happy, and how infuriatingly wonderful your laugh is.” Draco laughed softly, and Ron continued, “I couldn’t get you out of my head. It suddenly seemed like I was seeing you everywhere.” Draco’s smile quickly faded, and his eyes widened nervously. “I began to wonder if I was subconsciously stalking you, actually,” Ron went on, not commenting on Draco’s sudden change in expression. “But I found myself wanting to be close to you. It took me longer than it should have to figure out why I was disappointed on the days you didn’t acknowledge me, or why I felt happy when I saw you smiling. That’s why I don’t know when it happened, exactly. It might have been for a long time. But I told you as soon as I knew for sure. October fifth.”

Draco’s worried expression was gone by the time Ron finished, fading back into a pleasant smile. “October fifth,” he repeated, leaning forward to gently kiss Ron’s lips. Ron sighed happily, momentarily forgetting they were in a public place, and softly returned the kiss.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, stroking Draco’s cheek reverently.

“God, I love you, too,” Draco responded quietly, his hands trembling as he brought them up to thread through Ron’s hair.

Even though Ron still loved Draco madly, as much as he always did, he couldn’t help the sad, longing feeling that was now almost overwhelming him. The Draco he adored, the Draco he had fallen in love with, was all but gone. But at that moment, it was almost impossible to tell the difference.

Ron pulled back slightly, nudging Draco’s cheek with his nose. “Same question,” he whispered, “When and why?”

Draco was quiet for a moment, his breath coming out in shuddering puffs against Ron’s cheek. “First year,” he said finally, “Because you looked at me.”

Ron froze. He didn’t know which to question first – the fact that Draco had loved him since they were eleven, or the bizarre answer as to why. He turned his head, kissing Draco’s cheek distractedly, then carefully pushed Draco back so he could see him.

“Because I looked at you?” he asked softly, caressing the back of Draco’s neck.

Draco nodded but didn’t offer any immediate explanation. “I wanted you, I had to have you. You were mine from the very beginning.”

“I-” Ron didn’t know what to say – he didn’t even know if he should be flattered or unnerved. “Er, wow. If... if you felt that way for so long, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me.” Ron could see the infinite self-loathing in Draco’s eyes, and he immediately wished he had never asked.

“I’ll always want you,” he said quietly, pulling Draco in for another kiss. “Always. Forever.”

“Then marry me.”

Ron’s breathing hitched, and he thought for a brief moment that he might be sick. He never thought he would hear Draco say that – he hadn’t even thought about their future. “I will,” he whispered breathlessly.

“I’m serious,” Draco told him, pulling back once more so he could look at Ron’s face. “I want you to marry me.”

Ron couldn’t find words for a moment, his mouth opening and closing silently as he trembled with anticipation. “I – oh my God, really?” He took a deep breath, clearing his throat to stop his voice from squeaking. Draco waited silently, smirking as he watched Ron fumble for words. “O-okay,” Ron managed finally. He reached out with trembling hands, taking Draco’s hand and pulling it up to his face, touching a quivering kiss to each of his knuckles. “Okay,” he said again, more clearly this time, his voice light and euphoric.

Draco pulled his hand away and gathered Ron up in his arms, kissing him again and again. Ron kissed back desperately, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. It seemed so surreal – so impossible. But he didn’t want to think; he just wanted to live in this moment, with Draco, forever.