Title: A Rock and an Even Harder Place.
Author: Juxtapose )
Warnings: (if any) only excess amounts of angst.
Spoilers: (if any) None
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling is the goddess of all things HP. I' am but a lowly minion who has borrowed her creation for my own nefarious deeds.
Summary: Ron escaped the wizarding world after Hogwarts to live life as a muggle and the one person he never thought he'd clap eyes on ever again, has found him out in the least likely place.
Author's Notes: This fic was written for the second wave of "United-MeantToBe" fest. Challenges - #4 A wizards take on a muggle position.
#13 A Gryffindor gets caught with his pants down.
#26 Create a story based off of these words: woolly, combat, anxious.
To my beta 'Ashley' who reigns supreme in my book. Thank you, hon for all your hard work and for the title of this fic.A Rock and an Even Harder Place.
Ron grinned at the neon sign emblazoned behind a wall of glass. 'The Kats Pyjamas' screamed at him in hot, luscious pink lighting, which seemed to wink seductively at him as if it knew exactly what he needed. Oh, how he loved this place. The club was one of his preferred haunts and with it being a Friday night, the place was already thrumming with possibility. Every time the door was opened to usher in another patron, the pulsing beat of the music within seeped out over the pavement like a living thing, making Ron squirm with excitement.
He always drifted back to this club although he frequented quite a few in the same area. There was something about the atmosphere in this particular bar that drew Ron back every time. He liked the bartenders, the dancers; even the other patrons conducted themselves with discretion because of the clubs exclusive clientele. Ron was all about being discreet, he'd managed to fool his friends, his family for most of his young adult life and he wasn't about to change now that he had left the wizarding world behind him.
It wasn't until his final year at Hogwarts that he finally admitted to himself that he might just be gay. It took until graduation before he could tell Harry, Hermione and his family about his little discovery. To say they had taken it well would be to lie spectacularly. They were more than a trifle taken back by his admission. As the summer holidays progressed with no word from his two closest friends, Ron's desire to live with people who no longer understood him wavered.
The day before he was to begin his 'illustrious' career at the Ministry of Magic, under his father's thumb, he vanished, leaving all that he had known behind him.
Addressing a lengthy letter to his mother, he packed what few possessions he treasured the most, shrunk them, slipped them into his pocket and left the burrow that night.
Hitching a ride on his old broom as far as greater London he abandoned it in a dumpster. He should have broken it into useless pieces, knowing only too well what his father would have said on the subject. "Ron it is very careless of you to leave such an enchanted object in a place where muggles could find it," but in the end he hadn't the heart to destroy something he had loved for so long.
He'd taken a bus into central London that night, sleeping at the bus station for two days, before finding a job in an ancient record store that had managed to survive the onset of the cassette, the compact-disc and not to mention the mp3. It was a collector's wet dream and he adored coming to work each day. There was a simple joy in finding that illusive album that someone had been searching forever for. Besides he met the most eccentric characters that loved to laugh and chat about everything as he did.
One of the first muggle things that he obtained was a library card and, if any of his old professors could have seen the way he'd hit those books, I'm sure they all would have been proud. Fortunately, his father had taught his kids a thing or two about the muggle world; still he had a lot to learn to pass himself off as one of them.
That night, six and half years ago he withdrew from his wizarding roots and embraced the muggle inside. From that day to this he had never used magic and he hadn't even been tempted to. Although he'd missed the closeness of his family at first, he was reminded of the way they had tiptoed around him, plotting against him, since he had announced his desire to fuck other men.
Now his customers at the store were his friends and the staff his family. He had no need of people who rejected his way of life. As for someone to fuck, oh he had plenty. Nameless, faceless men paraded through his bedroom, but no one that meant more to him then somewhere to stick his cock.
Ron was selective. He was hunting for the unattainable and he was not willing to let go of his ideal mate for anyone who wasn't him. So, it was more than a shock when he settled into his usual booth at the back of the club, cloaked in darkness and stared through a haze of fine smoke to see who was dancing tonight and found him.
The drink had just touched his lips when it slipped from his fingers and shattered on the table. His eyes widened in alarm, while the alcohol leached into his T-shirt. Ron hadn't noticed a thing; his mouth was still hanging open unattractively when one of those barely clad barmen cut off his view of the stage.
Ron blinked, staring at the naked chest before him while the owner wiped up the mess with a Slytherin green sponge. He gasped, immediately jumping to his feet.
The previous dancer had left the stage and there now was another, a brunette with way too many muscles... in his place. He was devastated. Eyes darting around the room he found no one that matched his description. Ron slumped back to the booth shaking his head in disbelief, his obsession was getting worse.
The redheaded ex-Gryffindor wasn't sure if he'd just had a lust deprived hallucination or if he'd actually seen the Draco Malfoy wearing nothing but a tight pair of emerald green shorts and a set of muddy combat boots while he slithered obscenely up on the stage.
A hand stroked over the front of his pants, squeezing his hard-on just short of being painful and just how he liked it. He gazed down at the dark curly haired head nestled between his open legs under the table and smiled contently. Stretching out his limbs he relaxed into a lazy sprawl against the padded cushions, letting his eyelids droop while he patiently waited for that talented little tongue to lick across his cock with just the right amount of pressure.
This of course was his barman, the one who had so diligently scampered over to clean up after his master. They believed in a complete service in this particular club and all the staff would bend over backwards, forwards or any bloody where to satisfy a customer.
Michael was his name. Oh, they had met on his first initiation into the gay bar scene and he had been more than pleased with his performance then. In the past year he had groomed his personal slave on just how he liked to be sucked and so far they had a beautiful relationship that only extended as far as this facility.
Ron bit the inside of his cheek in anticipation of that first intimate touch. Always, his body would jerk uncontrollably at the first rush of breath on his naked prick. The first taste would ricochet through his body like molten lava, devouring every nerve ending in its path and, without fail, causing him to whimper in absolute need.
His zipper was pulled down with slow torturous precision; damn this boy was a godsend.
Hot moist breath on his cock made him shudder; his hands gripped the corner of the table as he lifted his hips for the boy to push his pants down to his knees.
Michael wasted no time in getting Ron's hard cock in his mouth and the redhead had to agree that the suction was, as always, perfection.
Ron keened at the swirl of tongue pulling deliciously around the head of his cock, before swallowing him whole, a nose snuffling into his pubic hair as Michael upped his tempo.
"Oh, yes. Fuck, more you bastard." he hissed through clenched teeth.
Then Ron felt the sharp sting of teeth scraping across his sensitive skin and his eyes flew open in rage. He had never asked for that, but the words of indignation died on his lips as he drank in the sight of the man who had curled himself comfortably at his booth without his consent.
That same patented smirk fixed on his lips, as he casually stroked at a dusky nipple, obviously enjoying the show.
"Fuck" Ron shouted, scrambling to get his pants back up as Michael back-pedalled out from under the table, winking at Draco before disappearing into the throng of patrons on the dance floor.
"I think that was his intention" his old nemesis drawled, indicating the barman with a lift of his chin in Mike's direction. The boy was now thrusting wildly against another man on the dance floor, arms entwined around each other as they kissed violently.
Draco hesitated to watch for moment, before arching one of those gorgeous eyebrows directly at Ron and adding "Or perhaps it was you who was going to be doing the fucking?"
Ron gulped, his tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth and he could do nothing but stare at Draco in shock.
This was his dream and his nightmare rolled into one. Draco Malfoy in the flesh, very nice flesh at that, but here nonetheless and Ron was disastrously frozen in place.
Malfoy's smirk only increased when the 'scared as hell' expression plastered on Ron's beautiful face continued. Draco could admit that the redhead was indeed a sight to behold. He was awfully impressed with the way Weasley had kept himself in peak physical shape and even his choice of clothing had improved with age. What a nice little bonus.
Ron tried not to fall apart as his name was called in that self-assured, definitely cocky voice he had grown to crave in his final years at Hogwarts. It had been over six long years since he had seen the Slytherin, yet in seconds he had fallen victim to the blonde's magnetism. He was reminded of how he followed Draco with his eyes the entire final year at school. How he would have done anything for that nymph like creature that ran riot in his dreams, if only Draco had asked it of him.
Oh god, that was far worse. To be called by his first name was like a sacrilege; at best it just wasn't done.
As an answer, Ron snatched up Draco's drink and took a large gulp before the stem of the martini glass crashed back down onto the table.
"Oh, that's awful!" he spluttered, struggling to keep the vile stuff down.
Draco pursed his lips and grinned at the flustered Gryffindor across from him. "I don't know, I rather like that mint flavour on my tongue. It's a rather interesting sensation on other parts of the body as well." He licked his lips, glancing at Ron's crotch for emphasis.
Ron's breath hitched and he turned his head to peruse the dance floor so that he wouldn't have to stare at Draco any longer. It was beginning to get ridiculous as he could feel those silver eyes checking him out. For god sake! He was an adult and some pathetic crush from another lifetime shouldn't have been making him feel so anxious.
"The colour's pretty." He said absent-mindedly, still gazing out over the club like anything out there could capture his attention away from the man already in front of him.
"Your drink." he explained dreamily, looking Draco in the eye for a second before turning to scrutinize the dancers up on the stage.
"Yes, Slytherin colours."
"I remember." He whispered.
Oh please don't start that again. "Don't call me that."
"Just don't call me Ron; I'm not used to it." He squirmed in his seat, immensely uncomfortable with this topic of conversation and where it was heading.
"Did you change your name?"
"No, you've just always called me-"
"Weasley." Draco interrupted. "Well, I flat out refuse to speak to you like the spoilt child I was at Hogwarts."
"Why not?" Ron almost sniggered at Draco's words, but he clapped a hand over his mouth at the slightly peeved look in the Slytherins eyes.
"For Merlin's sake! We're adults! I'm not sure about you, but I'm not about to degrade myself by getting into some petty fight, while you try to unsuccessfully hex my arse."
"Okay." Ron said quietly.
Draco sighed, arranging his long legs on the seat in an effort to get more comfortable.
"What happened to you?"
Ron sat up straight, lifting his chin minutely in the process. "Nothing. I left." He answered with a finality that screamed 'don't ask'. But did Draco listen?
"Oh, you just walked out on your best friends, on your family for no reason at all, for a laugh perhaps?"
"That's not funny." he growled, narrowing his eyes at his own personal tormenter.
"It wasn't meant to be, but I have to get you to react somehow, to at least look at me." He shouted, fed up with Ron's evasive behaviour.
"What the hell do you want from me, Draco? What are you doing here? Slumming it to piss off Daddy dearest perhaps? Did he not give you everything your stone cold heart desires?"
"You called me Draco" he beamed. Not taking the bait, no matter how tempting it was to go a round with the glorious redhead.
"So bloody what?" Ron scowled back. What a goddamn mess this was turning out to be.
"Yes, part of the reason I'm here is to really bug my father, but also because it's my job."
"What, your father or stripping? Perhaps they aren't mutually exclusive." Ron tried on that knowing smirk the bastard had flashed at him many a time and decided he liked the fit. He knew he'd hit a nerve when he caught the flinch. Ron just wondered how far he would have to push till Draco smacked him one.
"Careful Ron. I may have changed from the git you knew in school but that doesn't mean I'll let you get away with continually insulting me or my retched family either."
Ron relaxed back against the cushions and crossed his arms over his chest, surveying Draco from across the table.
"What exactly is your job?" he pronounced carefully, stressing each letter as if talking to a child.
Draco smirked but didn't bite, not yet anyway. Swirling the remainder of his shooter with an immaculately manicured finger, he stalled for time as he thought of the best way to tell him without having Ron do a runner.
Ron had asked what he'd presumed would have been a simple question, but Draco was delaying the answer and that was making him more than a tad nervous.
"You said this was your job? So if not dancing, then what?"
Draco lifted the dripping finger to his lips and watched for Ron's reaction as he sucked on the digit, curling his nimble tongue around it to remove all traces of the alcohol. He took notice of how Ron's pupils had dilated before ignoring him entirely to stare off into the crowd gathered on the dance floor.
Draco narrowed his gaze and dared himself to be brave.
"How long have you wanted me?"
Ron swung round to glare at Draco; the Slytherin caught the flash of pain in the Gryffindor's eyes before he covered it up with righteous indignation.
"What? Is your job really that embarrassing you can't even tell your sworn enemy anymore? Oh my, how the mighty have fallen." He scoffed, not looking the blonde in the eye.
"My job is you, or should I say people like you."
Draco laughed at the confusion on Weasley's face.
"I am a private investigator; my specialty is finding those who have gone missing."
"And someone hired you to look for me?"
"I haven't heard of a private investigator working in the wizarding world."
"There isn't any, with potions and a wand there's rarely a need of them. I reside in the Muggle world."
"You!" he laughed out loud. "Oh yes, I can see that happening." Ron exhaled, shaking his head, amused as hell.
"I assure you that I' am an investigator and your family paid me well to find you."
Ron gave Draco a brittle smile at that admission.
"Is that so?" he spat nastily. "Well, you can skip on back to the Burrow and inform them that you did your job admirably, but I have no intention of going back."
Draco growled a warning before lunging across the table and grabbing hold of Ron's wrist before he could retaliate.
"What do you think you're doing Malfoy?" he struggled, wondering when the hell a pip-squeak like Draco had become stronger than him.
"I've trained Ron. I was on my way to becoming an Auror when I discovered it wasn't for me. Still, there's no possible escape, you're not getting away from me." He whispered, causing the redhead to shiver at the feel of those lips against the shell of his ear.
"I'm not going back, Draco. You think you have me, but you never will." He grunted, trying to pry the hand off his body that had slipped from his wrist to encircle his bicep.
Draco was lying on his stomach across the breadth of the table and holding on for dear life. Damn Weasley for being so bloody stubborn. He was just about to tell the Gryffindor that when he found himself pulled across the table and dumped unceremoniously into Ron's lap.
"Draco?" Ron purred. Malfoy was momentarily lost at the sudden change of his voice and the close proximity. His grip on the wriggling redhead under him slackened and Ron easily won back control.
"You will come back with me." Draco stated, although he was in no position to be demanding anything. It was his turn to avoid Ron's heated gaze that seemed to drift leisurely down his body like a faint caress.
"No, I won't be." Ron assured him. Draco succumbed to Ron's fingers as they trailed lightly down his arms, guiding them till they naturally curled behind his back. Of course he hadn't realized his mistake until he felt cold metal close around each wrist with a sharp and final click.
Fuck. He had been an idiot. He'd let Ron seduce him and now look where that momentary blunder had left him. Draco was furious, not just at himself but at that bloody pillock Weasley for putting him in this situation in the first place.
Draco was on his knees against the back of the booth where Ron had carefully placed him. His wrists were bound together with a pair of police issue handcuffs.
Ron gave Draco a Cheshire grin, kicking at the hidden draw under the seat with the tip of his cowboy boot.
"Ferret, you should have researched this establishment a little more before barging your way in here. They have a nice assortment of toys, perfect for all types of situations."
Draco said nothing; he just fumed at being duped by the cocky redhead.
"Goodbye Draco." Ron whispered, tipping an imaginary hat as a final insult, before turning and leaving.
"You're a coward!" Draco seethed, burning his eyes into the back of Ron's head.
Ron flinched, but he wasn't about to give the Slytherin the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to him. He refused to be persuaded into staying, into following the blonde bastard anywhere he wanted him to go.
Draco had to find some way of stopping Ron from walking away right now. He just wasn't sure the truth was it.
"You walked out on your friends, on your family without giving them a chance. So, you finally told them all you were gay. It wasn't like they didn't know already. Hell, I knew."
Ron had stopped. That was good right? That meant he had a chance of getting through to him? Draco took a quick breath and continued.
"Ron," he pleaded. He hated to manipulate the Gryffindor like that, but if it served its purpose then he would jolly well use it to his advantage.
"You told them at graduation and then you gave them a further two weeks to accept it, that wasn't fair. They love you, no matter what Weasley. You never gave them a chance to explain their actions."
Instead of turning around, which Draco would have sworn would have happened, Ron bolted.
"Fuck!" he jerked against the shackles around his wrists. Ron stepped onto the dance floor. Immediately, he was enveloped by a throng of gay men and Draco promptly lost track of his whereabouts.
"Michael!" he screamed, livid that he'd let Ron get out of his sight.
The barman appeared up from behind the bar, a dribble of cum running down his chin.
"Get over here!" he screamed. Michael complied without hesitation, volleying over the bar; he was at Draco's side in seconds.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy." he drawled, leaning entirely to close for Draco's taste.
The Slytherin gave him a look that implied death. "Where's your wand?" he shot, not in the mood for the man's pathetic attempt at seduction.
"Right here." he answered, extracting it from the front of his shorts with a predatory grin.
Draco coughed, narrowing his eyes at the youth's less than subtle suggestion.
"Not going to happen." Draco curled his lip nastily.
Michael sobered, taking a step back.
"Release me!" Draco demanded, rattling the handcuffs for emphasis.
Michael pointed his wand at the metal bracelet and whispered "Alohomora!" Michael was cautious about concealing just what he was doing from any Muggles who might just happen to be looking his way.
"You owe me for this, Malfoy."
Draco sneered, rubbing at his swollen wrists. "Yeah, yeah you'll get your money." He hissed, making his way across the room. He hadn't moved ten spaces when he knew Michael was following along behind him. Draco spun around to face him. "What?" he roared.
Michael pinned him with a sharp gaze that astounded the Slytherin. He hadn't even known that look was in the whore's repertoire.
"Look after him." It was a threat and Draco gave it the dignity it deserved. He nodded, before heading for the back entrance of the club. What was coming next needed absolute privacy and he had no time to waste.
Bursting through the heavy iron door that served as a hidden entrance to the club, only the owner, Kat, fortunately had the key to and since the woman was a stickler for propriety, he didn't expect to find any of the club's staff loitering around outside. Beyond was a dark alleyway, surrounded on all sides by industrial plants that only functioned in the day.
"Perfect." He grinned, wasting no time in extracting a small vial of green potion that had been squeezed into the front pocket of his extremely tight shorts. This was the same liquid he had added to his drink before gate crashing Ron and Michael's little show.
Luck had it that Ron had drunk the stuff before he had been shackled. If he hadn't, Draco had been prepared to smear his honeyed skin in the substance and then just one touch would have been enough to contaminate Ron's mind. It would have been weaker that way because the potion was made to be taken orally, but it would have hopefully worked just the same.
Draco uncorked the vial and gulped down the rest of the potion, grimacing at the undiluted taste as it burned his throat. Reciting the Latin incantation in a hoarse whisper, he wasn't prepared when he suddenly connected with Ron's mind. His head felt like it wanted to wrench itself off his neck. He screamed till his throat was raw, before wrapping his arms over his head in quiet desperation. Sweat poured down his face, as the images flooded his mind and he was gradually able to breathe through the pain. Forcing himself to relax lessened the agony piercing through his skull and allowed Ron's mind to merge with his.
Blinking, he could see exactly where Ron was, feel what he was feeling...all of it. He'd have to kiss that prodigy of Professor Snape's; he sure had a talent for manipulating a common potion for his own wicked uses.
"I'm coming for you Ron, get ready." and with that Draco Apparated.
Ron ran a shaky hand through his shoulder length hair. Snatching up a black hair-band from the top of some old boxes, he quickly tied up his messy locks in a haphazard ponytail. Glancing forlornly around the room he had lived in happily for the past six years, he realized he had packed everything that mattered to him the most.
He hated the idea of leaving this life he cherished behind, but Draco had given him no choice. The Slytherin was certainly determined enough; he obviously loathed the thought of failing, especially in the eyes of a Weasley.
"And he called me a coward." Ron muttered, leaving a scrawled message of apology to his boss.
"And I still do."
Ron froze, dropping his suitcase and running for the stairs, but Draco was faster and he blocked the Gryffindor's escape.
"I'm here for you. I'm not leaving without you."
Ron laughed hysterically at that beautiful admission, bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of a resolute Draco. He should have never even come back here; he should have gone directly from the club to the bus station. "Stupid, stupid!" he muttered angrily to himself.
Draco's eyes flashed at his prey before he came at him, fast. Ron just managed to slip out of his grasp, disappearing behind a row of boxes- the room was a maze of them. Draco may be quicker on his feet but Ron knew the layout of this floor like the back of his hand. If the blonde was looking for a challenge, he'd damn well found it.
Draco cursed his foolishness of not bringing his wand with him, but he'd hoped he wouldn't need it. Surveying the mess of boxes stacked as high as the roof, he decided against following Ron and instead moved to the opposite end of the room and waited.
"Before you rudely ran off on me, I was telling you what a pig-headed git you've been."
He didn't get an answer. Not a ruddy sound. Was the redhead hiding from him or had the years living as a muggle indeed changed him enough that Ron wasn't so easily baited?
"If you had stuck around long enough, you would've found out the reason you had Potter running scared. It was because he too was gay and was frightened you'd know just by looking at him. Unlike you, that did surprise me."
Draco turned sharply at the soft brush against cardboard. He'd caused Ron to walk into one of his precious boxes. He smirked at that.
"You lie!" Ron hissed.
Draco pinpointed the sound of his voice and used his stealth training a make his way into the centre of the maze.
"No, I would never lie to you." he whispered, carefully listening for Ron's reply.
A flurry of boots squelched against the polished wooden floor. It was a damn fine attempt at escaping capture as the redhead realized his enemy was far closer than he thought. An equal amount of noise alerted Draco to realize that Ron was hiding around the next corner. He had to snatch him before he got to the stairs.
Draco burst out into the open, whirling around to face the stairs and noticing that Ron was nowhere in sight. He couldn't possibly have had enough time to reach them.
Half a second later something crashed blindly into his back, forcing him hard onto the floor, face first. Ron rushed by him. Draco managing to reach out an arm in time to grab at Ron's trouser leg, snagging his fingers into the worn denim and causing the Gryffindor to topple over. An animal like whimper fell from Ron's lips as he too crashed to the floor.
Ron instantly panicked, scrambling to get up, even as he felt himself being dragged backwards. Flipping over he kicked out with his feet, his heavy boots connecting with the Slytherin's face. Draco howled in rage and pain, yanking the redhead roughly towards him. Draco threw a leg over Ron to control him, although the Gryffindor under him was struggling to get away, spitting angrily in his face in his attempt.
Draco leaned forward, straddling the redheads twisting torso while his hands pinned Ron's to the floor. Teeth sought out the tender flesh at the junction between neck and shoulder and bit down viciously to restrain him.
Ron arched his neck and cried out in agony.
"You are so goddamn stubborn." Draco breathed against his abused flesh. "So bloody fabulous in your anger." he murmured against Ron's throat, lapping at the pinpricks of blood that had welled into the indentation of his teeth.
"I always liked you. Did you know that?" Draco whispered, lifting his head to look into that outraged face. He sighed absent-mindedly, before going back to bathing the wound with his wet tongue.
"Well I did." He added suddenly, smiling to himself as the man under him shifted minutely towards his mouth, wanting more of his attentions. Ron's body lay perfectly still under his ministrations, listening to him talk. Draco gratified his needs by continuing.
"Yes, I've liked you for a long time. Potter, even in his anger, seemed almost tepid next to you. Because it was you who gave me everything you had, you gave me your fire. Quite the impressive gift I must say and believe me I wanted it." Abandoning the wound, he swept his tongue over and around his Adams apple, delighting in how it bobbed as Ron swallowed convulsively under his caress. He scrapped his teeth over it, driving the redhead to keen softly.
Draco muffled his amused laugh into Ron's warm skin, breathing in the scent of him. He sighed. "Your fire is so vivid, so goddamn bright it burns. Merlin knows, you burnt me." he looked Ron in the eye and dared him to refute everything he had just said.
Ron tilted his head and really looked at the man who was pressing him urgently into the floor. The face hovering over him held a determined scowl. As much as he wanted to open up to him, he could not quite make himself believe Draco's words; he couldn't help feeling like he was being played.
"Get off me Malfoy." He whimpered. Determined now, not to be swayed by those hands, that mouth, his all consuming, goddamn annoying presence in his life.
Draco flinched, sadness reflected in his eyes for one fleeting moment before he shrugged it away.
"Shall I get you up to speed with what has happened in my life since you skipped town?"
"Spare me." Ron huffed dramatically, continuing his pointless endeavour to getaway from his captor.
"No, I don't think I will."
"Whatever." Ron rolled his eyes and pretended to be fascinated with the spider webs and dust in the warehouses high ceiling.
"My father, as I'm sure you have always suspected, was a cruel heartless bastard. But when I went to work for the Ministry in your stead, he reached new heights of sadistic behaviour. Had me there to spy on the Order, somehow, not sure even he knew how that was going to be possible. Not like they were ever going to have one of their secret meetings in front of a Malfoy."
Draco allowed Ron to sit up when he showed signs of a sore neck from having to glare at him from this angle. Both arms supported his own weight as he leaned back and really began to listen to what Draco was telling him. The Slytherin wasn't quite prepared to relinquish his hold on the Gryffindor, so he still sat comfortably in his lap.
"I actually ran to your father for help when it got really bad and, like the fool I thought he was at the time, he didn't even blink about taking me home. I was a nasty blighter, I can admit that now. I had no clue what real sacrifice or love was until I met your parents. Your mum, god, she's the most brilliant woman I ever met. She puts my own dear mother to shame.My mum the original ice queen. I was slowly being turned into a bloody carbon copy of that witch. Oh and when I say witch I mean the muggle kind, you know, evil, cold, emotionless, but pretty." He laughed and even Ron had to smile at the joke.
"I stayed in your room, you know. Grew quite fond of all that bright orange, reminded me of your fire. Then of course everything smelt of you. You have no idea how much that comforted me in the following months. Even struck up a friendship of sorts with Harry, although I never did get Hermione to accept me. I guess all those times I'd called her a mudblood was hard to forgive."
Draco traced patterns with his nails on Ron's chest, mesmerized by the steady rise and fall. The silence between them wasn't strained; it had never felt more right. Draco looked up through his lashes at Ron and found him staring back with such unguarded hunger it took his breath away.
It was Ron who took the initiative. Leaning forward, he ghosted his dry lips across Draco's, his breath hot against that mouth. Draco moaned, nudging closer while Ron took one hand off the floor behind him and threaded it through Draco's waist length hair. Curling his fingers over the back of Draco's skull, at the same time moulding the palm of his other hand possessively against one flushed cheek, they kissed for the second time. It was explosive.
Hot, wet mouth gliding across his own, he was the corresponding element to Ron's fire. Draco nibbled, preferring to use his teeth to incite the redhead to new heights of sheer bliss, where Weasley grew impatient and dove into his open mouth, stroking his tongue teasingly until Draco gave in and they tasted the other. Arms wrapped tightly around each other, sharing breath and the one space as they shoved mindlessly against each other, never quite close enough to satisfy.
Suddenly, Ron changed tactics as he bit sharply into the corner of Draco's plump lower lip, causing the Slytherin to rear his head backwards in shock.
Ron quickly got to his feet, wiping the back of his hand against his kiss-swollen mouth, trying to obliterate the taste of the blonde on his tongue and finding it impossible.
"I can't believe anything that comes out of your mouth. I knew you as the bastard, who would take extreme pleasure in crushing me under your foot, every chance you got." He raged, looking longingly at the stairs and freedom, but still not ready to leave. Draco was his unfinished business; he needed this to be over.
Draco stretched out his long limbs, taking his time as he too got to his feet and confronted the Gryffindor pacing across the floor.
"Bit dramatic don't you think?" Draco questioned, arching an eyebrow. "This whole sob story... Yes I was a bastard to you at school, I realize that, but we have something now..." He jerked his arm at himself and then back at the redhead, savagely. "You cannot deny that!" he roared.
"Yes, I can." Ron whispered harshly, cursing the tears pricking at back of his lids.
"No!" Draco cried out, the hitch in his voice betraying the emotion he had managed keep hidden in the innermost recesses of his fragile heart.
Ron's brow creased and he turned back to look. It was a mistake and he knew it.
A fist tightened around his ponytail before he had a chance to step back. He was propelled against the nearest wall, his shoulder crashing painfully with rough brick causing him to yelp at the impact.
One hand gripped around his throat and he was forced to face the wall. A bite to his right ear made sure he didn't fight when Draco kicked his legs apart.
"Mine." Draco snarled in Ron's ear, as he aligned his body with that of Ron's and thrust against his clothed arse.
Ron whimpered, but not with lust, in fear. Draco was going to rape him and for some reason he couldn't move a muscle to stop him.
Behind him, Draco screamed in agony, pushing himself away from Ron's trembling body he so craved. Turning he staggered towards the stairs, collapsing in a pathetic mess before he could even take one step.
Ron gasped, bolting towards Draco. Crumpling beside the Slytherin, he drew his shivering body into his lap, wiping away his tears with soft comforting kisses that lingered and promised much.
"You're a mess." he whispered affectionately into Draco's sweaty hair.
"Yeah." Ron heard Draco's muffled answer, his face buried in the Gryffindor's chest.
Ron chuckled, the vibration pleasantly rippling through his own body as he relaxed into the redhead's capable hands.
Hours seemed to pass as they sat there entwined in each other's embrace, knowing that this was only the first step and they had a very long way to go.
The woolly blanket that Ron had snatched from the end of his bed to drape around both of them, now lay discarded at their feet. He smoothed his warm hands over Draco's body, coveting the curve of the man's arse and triggering the Slytherin to unfurl his aching limbs and face his destiny.
Finally, Draco lifted his head from Ron's lap. The Gryffindor grinned unashamedly at the red creases that marked where Draco had pressed his face against Ron's T-shirt for such a lengthy period. Ron lifted a hand to rub his thumb over them, tracing his mouth before they were captured between a pair of soft lips, eyes twinkling at him with mischief.
"You never give up do you?" Ron moaned, jerking uncontrollably as if the obscene things being done to his thumb transferred directly to his cock.
"Bloody hell." he sighed, while Draco chuckled evilly against his throat.
Ron wondered when his thumb had been abandoned and Draco had gone straight for the jugular.
"How long have you been looking for me?"
There was no hesitation. "Since the day you left."
"What?" He screeched, threading his fingers with Draco's. "You've got to be kidding right?"
"No. Hey, you were good, sending all those letters from around the world. Took me a forever to find out they all originated from one place. You were right here in London, all this time, you had cleverly never left the city and I never knew till one of my father's pets took pity on me and invited me to this club he worked at. Said it would be just what I needed to relieve some of the tension."
Ron lifted Draco's hand, the one that was threaded with his and pressed an open mouthed kiss across his knuckles. Not once did his gaze leave Draco's.
"Michael has no idea how much I am indebted to him."