Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe. I don't own a lot of stuff, actually.

Rating: T (I'd say 15+ for this one)

Warning: Slash. (m/m pairing(s)) Some language.

A/N: I know...I should work on my other story but I have no inspiration right now. Just sit back and enjoy (distributes cookies and milk).


"I still don't know why you brought him here."

"I bet he's still pissed, the stupid blighter."

"Oh, look, he's moving."

Ron woke up surrounded by blurred faces and a headache that made his mind beg: let me die now.

The heads moved away so now he was only looking up at one. Who…?

"Good to see that you're finally awake, sunshine."

It took a moment for him to understand what she had said. "Parkinson?" he croaked.

Her smile was somewhat unsettling and he felt himself getting dizzy. With a groan he was out again.

Pansy poked him a few times in the chest. When he didn't stir she lifted herself from her crouching position. "Well, this is no fun," she said.

"Should we put him on a couch or something?" Millicent asked. They all looked down at the unconscious figure.

They decided to leave him on the floor.

Pansy sat down on a couch next to Blaise. It was quite late at night and everyone besides a few of them had retired to their dorms. The ones that stayed behind didn't want to leave a non-coherent Gryffindor lying in the middle of the Slytherin common room. Not out of concern for him, of course, but for their own piece of mind.

"Please clarify," Marcus said, crossing his arms, "as to why you decided to bring him down here, Draco." He smiled thinking exactly what everyone else was (besides the incredibly thick Crabbe and Goyle).

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He realised he must have looked a bit weak so he amended this mistake by fixing his face into a sneer. "What was I supposed to do, I couldn't very well leave him lying in the snow, could I?"

Everyone—including Crabbe and Goyle—looked at him as if to say: Oh yes you could have.

Draco huffed. "Oh, come on! That would've been cruel."

Nott's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair at this questionable excuse. Draco, pass up a chance to be cruel? He didn't say anything on the subject. Neither did anyone else.

"I bet Potter's going insane," Blaise said after a few minutes. The others nodded in agreement.

"They'll all think we kidnapped the Weasel and are holding him hostage," Millicent giggled. Draco shot her a look but didn't comment.

Silence followed once again and they found themselves with nothing to do but stare at the Gryffindor. He looked so amazingly out of place. He was sprawled out in an unknowingly alluring, way with his long arms above his head. His hair was plastered around his face and a dark green blanket was thrown over him. He was mumbling something and the sight was not adorable in any way.

Draco shivered. It did not go unnoticed.

"Cold, dear?" Pansy asked with a raised eyebrow and smirk she had no doubt picked up from the blonde.

"No, I'm fine," he replied icily. His nerves were just a little frayed from tonight. That was all. Yeah.

She looked away but retained her knowing smile. She thinks she knows so much—he could throttle her…!

Ron was now panting and his face had contorted into a scared frown. He muttered something about spiders. Rolling his eyes, Blaise got up and smacked the Gryffindor on the head. Hard.

"Oi!" he yelped. He sat up quickly and instantly regretted it. His brain felt like mush sloshing around in his skull. He moaned in pain and proceeded to rub his temples. He was still teetering on the edge of consciousness.

"I hope you stay awake this time," Pansy said.

What's Parkinson doing here? Better question: where is here? Ron's vision was clouded and the only colours he could properly see were green and silver. Although he was infamously dense, he wasn't too dense nor too drunk to not realise he was in the dungeons. The Slytherin common room, to be exact.

Oh gods, I'm about to be sacrificed in some sort of sick Death Eater ritual. Well, he wouldn't go down without a fight. Now where was his wand…?

"Hullo, Weasley," Pansy said pleasantly.

So, they're going to try and lull him into a false sense of security first, eh? "Er…" He closed his eyes. He didn't think he'd be able to run very far in his state. "Are you going to kill me?" Well, there was no sense beating around the bush.

She stared for a moment before laughing in his face. Sadistic bastards are enjoying this…!

"No, Weasley, we wouldn't risk going to Azkaban over your worthless life," she choked out through giggles.

"Oh." Of course.

He took in the rest of the room—nice, not as nice as his own common room. He saw Draco staring at him from a good distance away. He looked uncharacteristically nervous. "Whass am," damn, he was slurring. He tried again. "What am I doing here?"

Millicent spoke. "Draco was kind enough to pick your sorry blood-traitor self from out of the snow and brought you here…for some reason," she added looking at the blonde. "You should be damn thankful; your so-called friends were nowhere to be found—you could have froze to death. You owe him, Weasley—big time." The unsettling glint in her eyes told him she had more than a few ideas for payback.

"Er…thanks, Malfoy." He was well aware about how pathetic that sounded.

Draco just looked away. Ron realised he had a blanket and wrapped it tighter around himself. Was it cold in here or was it just…oh.

The only thing he was wearing were his ragged old jeans. "Where'd my shirt and sweater go? And my shoes?"

They exchanged looks. "Don't tell me you don't remember…" Marcus said looking highly amused.

Ron shook his head. "I…I can't hold my alcohol well," he admitted.

"Isn't that the understatement of the century," Nott sneered.

Pansy was shaking her head. "Do you honestly not remember or are you pretending because you don't want to remember?"

Why would he not want to remember? "All I can remember is getting into the club. I usually have blackouts when I get too sodding pissed…"

They all exchanged looks again. Their smiles seemed so secretive—Ron had the disconcerting feeling that they knew something important he didn't. Draco was the only one who looked as equally distressed as him. "Where're my clothes?" he asked again.

"Who knows," Pansy said gesturing vaguely. "You lost them when you decided to delight us with a strip tease back at Nsheela."

Even the tips of Ron's toes seemed to blush furiously. "Oh gods," he muttered dropping his head into his hands.

Hogsmeade had a few well-liked pubs—the Three Broomsticks being the most popular—but didn't have a single nightclub up until recently. It was a small town, true, but someone finally realised how much business a club could get from the students of Hogworts. That's how Nsheela came into being. Of course, they were all too young to drink but it's not like anyone paid much attention to that minor detail.

"It's okay, Weasley," Pansy was saying, "we all thoroughly enjoyed it. Some of us a bit too much…"

No way, Ron thought, Draco friggin' Malfoy was not blushing. He must be imagining things—after all, he was still a tad ditzy. The blonde git was being a bit too quiet, but he supposed he must've had too much to drink as well.

"Well, erm, thanks for bringing me inside," Ron said, standing awkwardly. He limped towards what he presumed to be the exit. "Hey…why am I limping?" he asked no one in particular.

"You had taken a rather nasty fall," Pansy said. "Repeatedly."

"Oh." He was about to walk out when…

"Oh, and Weasley?"

He turned around. Pansy just tapped her forehead and laughed. He furrowed his brows and left. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Ron was finding it very hard to balance and clung to the stone walls for support. He realised his wand was with Hermione—she always made him give it to her when she knew they were going to get pissed. Sure, he didn't hex anyone in a drunken stupor, but he also couldn't see a thing. He wasn't exactly familiar with this part of the school—how was he ever going to find the Fat Lady's portrait?

He cursed into the darkness. He had a mammoth headache and was still drunk. If Filch and his damn cat caught him now, he'd be doomed. He couldn't even use the 'It's okay, I'm a prefect' excuse because even prefects aren't allowed to wander the school in the middle of the night, drunk and scantily clad.

If he didn't get to the common room fast, he was sure he'd fall asleep right here, only to be roused later by an angry Snape. The thought made him hurry. He finally found himself in a familiar looking corridor lit by torches, thank Merlin.

After climbing endless amounts of stairs he reached the Fat Lady—thoroughly exhausted. She was sleeping peacefully.

He loudly cleared his throat to wake her up. "Bat bogeys," he said.

She yawned massively and then appraised him. "What happened to you?"

"Bat bogeys," he repeated.

She harrumphed but swung open. "Next time don't go wandering out after curfew," she scolded.

As soon as his fiery head popped through the hole he was attacked by a panicked Hermione.

"Oh my goodness, we were so worried, you had just wandered off, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you leave, we were going to go looking, Harry just thought to use the Marauder's Map and—"

"Whoa, Herm, calm down," Harry said coming to the rescue. "Breathe."

She did. "Oh, Ron, are you alright?"

"My brain is trying to bust out of my skull, but other than that, yeah, I'm fine."

"Ron, you're shivering," she said looking even more worried, if that was indeed possible.

Ron stared wide-eyed before looking down at himself. Indeed, he was shivering. Rather violently, at that. No wonder, I was half-naked and passed out in the snow.

Before he knew it, he was bundled up in a heavy duvet and settled in front of the roaring fireplace. "I can't remember a thing," he sighed.

Harry and Hermione gave him the same look the Slytherins had.

"Are…are you serious?" Harry asked trying hard not to laugh.

"Yeah, you of all people know I can't hold my liquor. I'm a real lightweight."

"Isn't that the understatement of the century," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Alright—I get drunk like a girl," he said vaguely remembering himself giggling at the club a couple weeks back.

It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "No, you're far worse."

Ron huffed.

"So you really don't remember a thing?" Hermione asked looking just as amused as the Slytherins were.

"No," he replied sullenly. His bottom lip protruded like a petulant child's would. Obviously, he was still a bit drunk to be pouting.

Hermione and Harry looked at each other.


"Nothing," they chorused.

Ron once again felt like he was missing something big.

Hermione kissed him on the cheek and said, "And you might want to take a look at your forehead." She then gave Harry a smile and headed up to the girls' dorms.

"C'mon, mate," Harry said, helping Ron up. When Ron made it upstairs the first thing he did was go into the washroom to take a good look at himself.

It took his eyes a while to adjust to the brightness of the room and he felt his headache getting worse. He turned to one of the mirrors.

He groaned loudly. On his forehead, in flowery neon-pink writing it said: Property of Padma Patil. How the hell…? He furiously began scrubbing at it. He couldn't get it off completely and when he finally stumbled to bed he had a pink blob on his brow.

The next morning, he was able to clean off the remainder of pink ink from his face, thank the gods. His headache was still there but he'd be able to get through classes. It really was against his better judgement to go to a club on a Sunday. He blamed it on Hermione. She's the responsible one! She should have talked him out of it. Yes, all her fault.

When he came out of the loo he saw that his clothes from last night were neatly placed on his bed, along with his wand.

"Hermione had your wand and I was able to rescue some of your clothes. Couldn't find your socks, though. Sorry," Neville said.

Ron gave him a brilliant smile. "Thanks, Nev." He never liked to openly discuss his family's financial situation but everyone knew any lost garment for Ron would be disastrous.

Harry poked his head through the door. "You guys, hurry up; we're going to be late." The three of them left for breakfast together.

Ron walked as fast as his long legs would allow. Gods, he was so hungry! Most would roll their eyes when he said that—it was almost a natural state of being for him. He slowed down a bit to let the other two catch up.

The Great Hall was bustling with noise and movement as usual—right up until Ron walked through the doors.

All heads turned to the three. What's going on now? Ron thought. Why are they all looking at Harry?

If he weren't so amazingly oblivious, he would have known they were staring at him.

"What'd you do?" Ron asked, leaning towards him.

Harry looked confused before saying, "They're looking at you, Ron."

Now why in holy hell would they be looking at him? He was sure he got all of Padma's writing off his face. Is that what this was all about? How silly!

Neville hurried over to the Gryffindor table while Harry had to nudge Ron to move.

The Hall erupted into excited whispers. It didn't even stay at that—soon they were making catcalls and leering at him! What the hell?

He was now red-faced and almost running to his seat. Hermione was trying hard not to choke on a bun as she laughed at him from behind a book.

Padma had come to sit at the Gryffindor table with her sister Parvati and Lavender. They were giggling and sneaking glances at him every chance they got.

A hand on his shoulder nearly gave him a coronary as he yelped from his seat. This caused the snickering to turn into full out laughing at his expense.

The hand belonged to Luna. "It's okay, Ronald. They'll all forget about it in a few days." With that, she rejoined her fellow Ravenclaws.

Forget about what? Was this all because of his drunken strip show? That's ridiculous—lots of people had done way stupider things at that club in the past and they never got this treatment! And are Seamus and Dean blowing kisses at him?

He realized Fred and George were addressing him. "That was downright amazing last night, Ronnie," Fred said.

"Most courageous thing I've ever seen," George said.

"I knew you were sorted into Gryffindor for a reason." They grinned toothily.

Ron ate as fast as he could. Even the teachers and ghosts were looking at him strangely. What in blazes could he have done? Streaked? Hit on Harry? Snogged Snape? He violently shuddered at the last thought.

He didn't dare look over at the Slytherin table for fear of what they'd say. Of course, he'd have to face it eventually—his first class of the day was Potions.

He stood up abruptly and gathered his bag. Harry and Hermione quickly took a few more bites and got up as well.

When he walked everyone's eyes followed him. It was a creepy feeling. Before he could make it out the doors something slammed against him.

It was Justin Flinch-Fletchy. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Ron, I didn't see you." He looked down. "Oh, I seemed to have dropped my books; would you mind helping me pick them up?" He sounded like he was trying to hold back a snigger.

Ron was just about to tell him to sod off but didn't want to seem like a total arse when the whole school was watching his every move. "Sure," he said morosely.

As soon as he bent down someone wolf-whistled. His face was the same colour as his hair as he jumped up and ran out of the Hall grabbing Hermione and Harry by the elbows. More catcalls and laughter followed him.

When they were a good distance away he turned to the other two. "What the bloody hell is going on?" His voice was high-pitched and squeaky.

Harry looked away while Hermione bit her lip. "Oh, it's nothing, Ron; they're just being stupid. Just ignore them."

He looked more distressed. "But what exactly did I do…?"

Students began pouring into the hallways. "Time for Potions," Harry said, leaving Ron's question unanswered.

Potions was with the Slytherins—it had always been like that due to some cruel sadist in the faculty.

They arrived at class with a minute to spare. Snape was shuffling through some papers in the front and many of the Slytherins were already seated. Aside from the normal sneering some of them made kiss-y faces.

When he walked by Malfoy he did a double take. Where was the scowl? The smirk, the sneer? Where was the stupid insult and laughter at his expense? All the blonde did was stare.

It was rather unsettling as Ron felt those grey eyes on him even as he sat down. The stare didn't hold any kind of contempt, it was just…creepy. Like he wanted to ask something.

Ron shook his head. Perhaps Malfoy was also suffering from a hangover.

Snape surveyed the class and his eyes lingered on Ron. The man smirked and looked away to begin the lesson.

Every so often, Ron caught Malfoy looking at him but instead of scowling and turning away, Malfoy blushed. He was sure this time. What the hell was wrong with the evil Ferret? It was hard to focus on his assignment with him ogling, er, glaring like that.

Ron hoped whatever he did that was making everyone act so weird would blow over soon.

The next day, Ron was getting irritated. The looks didn't stop. In fact, some people got even more aggressive in their ridicule.

In the Great Hall, someone elicited a girly squeak from Ron when the pinched his arse as he walked by! The audacity of some people! This was sexual harassment! He would not stand for it!

So he sat down, blushing madly.

And Malfoy still hadn't even tried to insult him! He was still doing that thing with his eyes—ogling—no! Glaring!

He cornered Harry between classes. "Why the hell is everyone making eyes at me?"

Harry looked like he was about to bolt so Ron held him down. "I don't know, Ron! I mean, I do, but…look, it's no big deal…it'll blow over, soon…" I hope.


Harry sighed. "Look—you don't want to know. Believe me." Then he got that mischievous glint in his eyes. "Or maybe you should try asking Malfoy."

He aimed to do just that. He found Malfoy walking over to Herbology flanked by his goons.

"Whadoo you want?" Crabbe said as they saw Ron running over.

He panted trying to catch his breath and clung onto Draco's arm for support. Draco's eyes widened.

"Malfoy…I need…to…talk to you," he panted.

Draco stared a moment. Then he bolted. Crabbe and Goyle looked just as shocked as Ron as they watched him sprint all the way to the greenhouses. Why was Malfoy running from him? Had he gone completely mental?

If this goes on any longer, I swear I'm going to kill someone.

The third day and Ron had had enough.

He was walking to his table at lunch when some Hufflepuff had grabbed onto his arm. He was seated so he pulled Ron down so his mouth was at Ron's ear.

"How much?" he asked with a wry smile.

Everyone within earshot burst into raucous laughter.

That was the last straw. He was being harassed by friggin' Hufflepuffs!

He run over to the Gryffindor table and grabbed Harry by the tie. He was going to drag him into the common room and get answers.

As they were leaving Ginny shouted, "Go easy on him, Ron!" The laughter got louder. Even the teachers were sniggering! He mentally added Ginny to his 'Kill Later' list. Hermione quickly followed them upstairs.

In the common room he was almost hysterical. "Why's everyone treating me like some Knockturn Alley prostitute?"

Harry looked like he was about to say something but closed his mouth. Hermione fidgeted with her robes.

"What happened that night? All I know was that Malfoy brought me back inside."

They both looked up at this. "Really?" Harry asked. "And what…what did he do?"

Ron frowned in confusion. "What else would he do? He dropped me on the ground."

Hermione looked uncertain. "Is that…all?"

What the hell was wrong with them? "Yes, don't worry, that was all that happened."

Did Hermione actually look disappointed? Did she want him to be murdered by the slimy git? "You guys, just, please…tell me what happened."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure if you'd believe us if we did…maybe you should see it for yourself."


"Dumbledor's pensieve, Ron. I can extract the memory from you so you could see for yourself. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"But I don't have the memory; I can't remember a thing…"

"You still have the memory," Hermione said. "It's not like it was destroyed; you just blacked out."

Ron considered this. "Alright. To the Headmaster's office."



Harry smirked. "Don't freak out after you see it."

Ron shrugged. "No promises."

Draco paced his prefect's room.

"Calm down, Draco," Pansy said. "I didn't know you'd be so nervous around him after that. It's kind of cute, really."

"Oh, shut up! You don't know what you're talking about!" Draco yelled.

"Oh, come off it," Blaise said, flipping through one of Draco's books casually. "You've had the biggest crush on him for years now. You should be delighted by this."

"Too bad he don't remember," Goyle said.

"Minor setback," Millicent said.

"You're all insane!" Draco said. "He's dirt-poor, a blood-traitor, a Weasley, a male Weasley and totally—"

"Hot," Pansy finished.

Draco glared at her.

"Come on, Drakie-poo, would you really have carried him out of the snow and back here if you didn't have a thing for him? If it were any other student, you would have left them."

"You don't understand," Draco said. "He was all cold and shivering and he let out this cute little sneeze—" He stopped but realized it was too late.

"Cute?" Crabbe asked.

"I did not say that; you're hearing things," Draco said stubbornly.

"Aw, Draco lurves Ickle Ronnikins," Millicent cooed.

"Do not!" Draco retorted childishly. Where had his wit gone? Stupid Weasel left him completely flustered!

"You know, I had always wondered why you're so keen on fighting with him all the time," Blaise said.

"Yeah," Pansy said. "Happens to be his kink. I remember it was always 'Weasley this' and 'Weasley that' and how you always get so irritated when anyone else calls him 'Weasel.' That's your pet name for him, right? I see that ghost of a smile you get when he calls you 'Ferret.' It's nauseating, really, but we've all learned to accept it."

"Pet name?" Draco choked. His disposition changed from mild horror to anger. "You're crazier than I thought. All of you. And even—hypothetically—if I—hypothetically—did have something for the Weasel, what would my parents say? Hypothetically."

"They'd say: 'Son, although it's highly distressing you chose a Weasley of all people, at least he's pureblood. Also, it would really piss Arthur off,'" Blaise said in his best Lucius impression.

Pansy clapped lightly. "I don't think he'd say 'piss Arthur off,' but other than that, that was pretty good."

Blaise bowed.

Draco contemplated killing each and every one of them.

"Now that we've established how much you adore the ginger git, I think you should remind him of what happened at Nsheela," Millicent said.

"Ah! You're all nuts!"

"You know," Pansy said, her voice lowering conspiratorially, "those hand-me-downs of his really have seen better days. I bet with a little tug on a loose thread, they'd unravel completely."

"Ah!" Draco said, throwing his hands in the air. "I…I'm going to go take a shower…" He ran into the washroom.

He gripped the edges of the sink and stared at his reflection. Of course everything they had said in there was true…

He couldn't take much more of this—he'd have to tell the Weasel everything.

Ron stared worriedly into the swirling contents of the pensieve Dumbledor had do graciously let them use. The headmaster himself had left, giving them some privacy.

Harry took out his want and placed the tip at Ron's temple. He soon extracted a silvery half-gas, half-liquid…thingy. Ron wasn't feeling very articulate.

Hermione looked like she badly wanted to take notes on this.

The memory was placed in with the rest. "Any time you're ready," Harry said. "Just dunk your head in."

Ron gulped, afraid at what he might see. He braced himself for the worst (which was, incidentally, the idea of him snogging Snape) and delved into the bowl.

At first, it was not unlike the feeling you get when using a portkey.

He found himself slightly dizzy and standing outside Nsheela. He remembered that night as bitterly cold, so he stood there shivering.

He saw himself walking up with Harry, Hermione and some other students. It was weird looking at all this from an outsider's viewpoint. He saw himself begrudgingly handing over his wand to Hermione's outstretched hand.

He followed himself in. He perched himself onto a counter to watch the events unfold.

At first, everything went swimmingly. He danced with Hermione, Luna, Lavender, Parvati and a few others. He drank. He joked around with the guys. He drank. He disinclined a taste of one of Fred and George's new products. He drank some more.

Soon he was staggering around, blinking confusedly at the bright lights. Oh, come on! He doesn't drink anything hard and only had a few drinks! He really was a lightweight! He had fallen flat on his face three times before he was able to walk four metres.

His mind wandered for a while before it was brought back by the sound of catcalls and wolf whistling. He saw himself on top of the bar with Seamus thoroughly snogging his mind out. By the hands tangled in sandy hair, he assumed Memory-Ron was enjoying it. Seamus's hands quickly slipped up his shirt.

Was that what all this was about? He got groped by Seamus—big deal! Everyone got groped by Seamus. It didn't even surprise him too much because he had known for a while now that he batted for both teams (his infatuation with Viktor Krum was quite a giveaway).

Many girls watched on, wide-eyed. They were blushing madly but couldn't tear their eyes away. He heard Cho Chang muttering something about a cold shower.

He wondered why Creevey hadn't gotten any pictures of this. He soon found out. The boy was also staring in shock. He then turned around and—snogged Harry?

More catcalls. Harry pushed him away, blushing. He was sure everyone in the club were just going to blush themselves to death.

Hey, if Harry got snogged too, then why was he the only one being treated like he was?

He soon found out.

Some Ravenclaw girl had said, "Accio Ron!"

Ron was wretched out of Seamus's grasp only to end up in that girl's. Then she proceeded to snog him senseless. He could almost hear Hermione's teeth grinding.

So that's what this was! A bunch of perverse bastards taking advantage of a helpless drunk! Albeit, Ron didn't look like he was struggling much—in fact, he seemed to be enjoying it—but it was the principle of the thing!

That's when Ron finally noticed Draco sitting at a table with Pansy. He was shaking. Gods, it wasn't that cold.

Oh no. Memory-Ron had gotten up on a table. So began the strip tease. People were screaming with joy, holding their drinks up in a toast to the redhead.

I hate my life, Ron thought glumly.

Some Hufflepuff squealed with delight as she caught Ron's red and gold tie. The Slytherins were doubled over with laughter by this point.

Hermione had coaxed him down from the table before he lost his pants. Bless her…

That's when Padma came up and scrawled all over his forehead. It was interesting to see him try and look at what it said without a mirror. Padma and the group of girls she was with giggled gleefully.

Padma was now on his 'Kill Later' list. Right after Ginny.

To his horror, he saw Ginny flirting with Marcus Flint. And was that Zabini Hermione was dancing with?

He focused his attention back to himself again. Oh no, he was getting felt up by Millicent. Millicent! Hey, where's Percy going with Oliver?

Damn it, focus! He counted it off on his fingers. He had been snogged by eleven people so far. Okay…now he understood why people were treating him like a Knockturn Alley prostitute. But could they blame him? He was not in his right mind!

Draco was shaking pretty bad now. Well, it's his own fault for not bringing a coat. The blonde stood and looked like he was headed for the loo when…

Oh gods, no. Ron had intercepted him. The next thing he knew he was snogging Malfoy senseless!

Don't freak out Ron…you were drunk…you probably just thought it was someone else…

Draco and Ron parted for breath. "You taste nice, Draco…" So he did know who he was kissing! Not only that, he was calling Malfoy Draco.

Besides the blaring music, the club went silent. There were a few hushed whispers and then…applause?

Memory-Draco and Memory-Ron looked at each other. Ron awaited the verbal or possibly physical assault he would receive from the Slytherin.

It was a physical assault but not the kind Ron was thinking of.

Draco grabbed Ron by the back of the neck and brought him down for another searing kiss. Memory-Ron looked delighted.

He looked around. Seriously—blush themselves to death.

How could Malfoy continue on with this? Was he drunk, too? Odd, because he didn't look it and Ron hadn't seen him with a single drink since he got here. And what are his hands doing on my arse?

Ron felt himself getting hot. It must be all those bright lights. Yeah.

Some smart-arse pushed the intertwined Ron and Draco into a nearby closet and locked the door. This led to more cheers.

He saw Harry walking towards the closet. Bless him; he must be going to unlock the door so poor Ron wouldn't get taken advantage of by Draco Malfoy.

Instead, Harry got sidetracked when Pansy pulled him in for a dance. The bastard!

It was Neville who unlocked the door ten minutes later. This was met with some booing.

Draco stumbled out first looking very pleased with himself and a tad dishevelled. Ron stumbled out after him looking even more thoroughly ravished—if that was possible.

Draco muttered something in Ron's ear and gave him an almost chaste peck on the cheek before being engulfed by cheering Slytherins. The world had gone mad.

Ron saw himself stumble outside a few minutes later. He followed to see himself collapse onto the snow before he felt a great whooshing around him.

He was back in Dumbledor's office. Hermione and Harry were looking at him anxiously.

"Well?" Hermione asked softly.

Ron sighed. "I am such a whore."

The other two seemed taken aback by this before smiling.

"No, you're not, Ron," Hermione said. "You're just a loose drunk."

"Right," Ron said. "Well, that explains why Malfoy was acting so strange…I still can't believe I did that."

"You really seemed to enjoy it, as well," Harry said.

Ron tried unsuccessfully to raise an eyebrow. "And you seemed to enjoy watching it."

Harry shrugged.

"You know…I can't believe I haven't noticed it before but…I think Malfoy really likes you, Ron…" Hermione said. "Think about it."

He did and… "God, Herm, I thought I was thick, but you didn't notice, either."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not something you tend to notice."

"Do you like him, too?" Harry asked suddenly.

Ron thought about it. Remembered Draco holding and kissing him and... Oh gods.

Draco caught Ron right in front of the Great Hall the next morning at breakfast. "Weasley, we need to talk."

This time Ron succeeded in raising an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes. I have to tell you this before someone else does…it's not easy to say, but…look, don't hit me or anything, but…"

"Spit it out, Malfoy." He had noticed the entire Hall's attention was now focused on the two of them. "What's got your knickers in a bunch?"

Draco took a few breaths. "You…you remember that night you can't remember right?"

Ron gave a bemused smile but nodded.

"Well…I can't believe this but…we…snogged." He closed his eyes, waiting for the blow. When none came, he hesitantly opened them.

"Oh, is that what all the fuss is about?" Ron asked.

Draco's mouth fell open, making him gape in a very un-Malfoyesque manner. This was definetly not what he had expected.

In the blink of an eye, Ron was kissing Draco. The hall was silent for a moment. They could hear forks and cups being dropped onto the ground in shock because everyone knew this time they were sober. Before long, the Hall erupted into applause. The teachers were giving a standing ovation and many clinked their goblets together in celebration.

Kissing? This was definetly not what Draco had expected. Not that he was complaining, mind you. He recovered from the shock quickly and was soon kissing back.

"You taste nice, Draco," Ron muttered into his lips.

They finally parted for breath. "You know," Draco whispered in his ear, "we could go back to my room and have some drinks…"

Ron grinned. "You know I don't handle my alcohol well."

Draco smiled wryly. "Yeah…I know."

The End

A/N: The club's name, "Nsheela" is simply Hindi for "Intoxication." I just like the sound of it.

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