Author's notes: Written for a_shadow_there at harry_holidays 2010.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Weasley?"
Ron didn't raise his head. "Yes. Just do it and get it over with."
"This is going to seriously fuck up your mind."
"I don't care." Ron turned his head away. "Anything is easier than remembering what happened."
A sigh. "Suppressing your memories shouldn't be the answer."
"Fine, don't get your knickers in a twist." Ron's wand raised out of his vision. It was his idea to use it, just in case they tried to trace what happened. "What kind of memories do you want in place of Potter?"
"Doesn't matter. Make it up."
"What does Granger think?"
"She doesn't know. Nobody knows."
A pause, but Ron didn't see the wand again. "Suit yourself. Oblivisci."
Ron smiled and closed his eyes, letting himself fall back with the power of the spell.
It had always been hard being one of the youngest children in a large family. Ron felt the pressure since he was young, and while he hoped that it would go away when he got to Hogwarts, it never had. His grades would never be good enough, his friends would always be more than he could ever dream, and even after he left and got into working, his job was never exciting or out of the ordinary. Bill worked with goblins, Charlie with dragons, Percy with the minister, the twins with their joke shop, and Ginny with professional Quidditch - Ron was stuck behind a desk in St. Mungos, filing away paperwork for those who would never wake or survive on their own in the Janus Thickey Ward.
After a day of work, Ron would return to his drafty apartment and make a small meal for himself. His mum had stopped sending him dinners a few weeks before, saying that he needed to learn for himself in case he had his own family. Cooking was still a surprise and he was never sure what his food would taste like. So far, he hadn't gotten anything that was too terrible, but he missed his mum's cooking and told her that at least once a week. The letters in return just had a smile and a short "You'll get the hang of it, Ron dear" on them.
Few family members liked to come down this way. Neville Longbottom occasionally showed, but he kept his head down and his eyes on his shoes. He expected his best friend to react a bit differently to him, but the war did different things to everybody. Neville had just closed himself off - he was the only person he recognized besides Hermione. When his other best friend did stop to say hello, it was brief and she always looked as if she were about to cry. He never asked which one of the patients she came to see and she never offered to tell him.
The one person he hadn't expected to walk through the doors of his ward was Draco Malfoy. He was just coming off his two-day-off break and getting informed of the various changes when the blond had marched through the doors. Concerned, Ron started to move toward him, but Betty, the kind woman who worked with him in this position, put a hand on his arm.
"His mother was admitted yesterday," she explained. "It's a type of Muggle disease."
Immediately, Ron backed off. He might not like the git, but he understood the fear of losing someone. "How long?"
"A few weeks at best."
Ron took the rest of her notes and sat down. "Thank you. You can head home, now. I'll be fine."
Betty hesitated before giving Ron a nod. "I'll see you later, then."
Without really knowing why, Ron took out Narcissa Malfoy's file and opened it. The healers here didn't know much about what was ailing her and, from what they could tell, it had been going since the war. She hid it from her husband and son as long as she could before she was all but forced to come here. Ron wasn't sure what was worse: the instant death like Fred had or the long and drawn out one like Mrs. Malfoy. At least Draco would get to say goodbye.
He quickly put the papers away after reading through the lot of them, not wanting them out more than he needed to. He'd get to know the new ones soon enough and the old ones hadn't changed. They were here until they died, why would they have changed? He made sure nobody was in sight before pulling out Quidditch Weekly and catching up on his sports.
Ron was so lost in the Cannon's new picks for the season that he didn't hear the door to the hall open. He was halfway through the article when he felt a presence and he looked up, straight into the eyes of Draco Malfoy. Ron straightened in his seat, trying to act more confident than he felt at that moment. It wasn't every day your rival (ex-rival? Ron wasn't sure) stared at you with the intensity that Draco was now giving him.
"Can I help you, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Are you here for Harry?" he asked after a moment of silence.
"Harry?" Ron frowned and shook his head. "Harry Potter is a patient here. I work at this desk just like Betty does."
Draco stepped closer. "So Harry—"
"Why do you care about him?" Ron made a face, putting his magazine away.
"I don't. I was wondering if you did."
Ron sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Why do people keep asking me that? He was just a kid in my dorm. We didn't know each other too well and yes, it isn't good that he's in this ward, but it's not like I knew him."
Draco nodded, stepping back. "Just wanted to know. Enjoy your day, Weasley."
As Draco left, Ron was surprised to hear himself reply back with, "You too, Malfoy."
Draco came to see his mother every day and Ron, surprisingly, found himself upset when he had the day off. Once, he had found a reason to be at work during the time he knew the other would be there. Through all of it, Betty teased him about actually liking the prat. Ron denied it every day she said something, especially since he was sure if he had felt something, Draco Malfoy would never return it because he was simply not bent enough to do so.
Not that anybody but Betty knew that Ron was bent as broken wand. He didn't have plans on any of them knowing, either. But even he, after the second week where he made excuses to see Draco, had to admit that there was something drawing him to the aristocrat. As he stood alone in the room with the softly smiling man, he wondered if the feeling was returned. With Draco being a Slytherin, it was hard to tell.
When Draco invited him out to a drink after he finished seeing his mother, Ron accepted without a second thought. Betty winked at him as the two left and Ron tried to hide the sudden flush that came up into his cheeks. He tried to tell himself that this was just two blokes going out for a drink, but part of him wished that it were different. Despite what a pain Draco had been, he had always been nice to look at.
Three glasses of whatever Draco ordered him later and Ron was ready to fall over in uncontrollable laughter. He wasn't sure how they went from talking to kissing. Ron's hands moved awkwardly against Draco's calm ones. He pulled on the back of Draco's cloak, breath hitching when cool hands found their way under his shirt. The warm heat of the other man's mouth moved to his neck and Ron couldn't stop the moan from escaping him.
Draco was speaking, but Ron could barely understand it. By the time he made sense of the words, he felt a tug in his gut and the world spun. He closed his eyes, praying he wouldn't get sick, and fall back against a couch. Once his stomach relaxed, he let out a soft laugh and pulled Draco on top of him.
"Warn me next time."
Draco tugged at the waist of Ron's pants. "I believe I did. Not my fault you didn't hear me."
Ron grinned, leaning forward to press a sloppy kiss to Draco's neck. "Speak up."
"Later." Draco pulled Ron down toward the bedroom. "I want you."
Drunk or not, Ron would never mistake those words. He followed Draco down the hall, hands sliding over whatever body part he could get a hold of. His fingers ended up curled in the locks of blond hair that he found he loved to touch. They really were as silky as they looked. Ron stumbled forward as they entered the bedroom and he took advantage of his fall, pressing his lips to the back of Draco's neck.
One minute they were standing, the next they were on the bed. Ron wasn't sure when it happened, but he was too busy pushing at Draco's clothes. There was too much, and then not enough. Skin slicked with sweat and the trail of Ron's tongue pressed against his own bare chest. His mind moved slow, unable to keep up with what his hands and mouth were doing.
He was kissing Draco. No, he was wrapping his hand around Draco's hard cock and attempting to stroke it. Not anymore. Draco was begging as his fingers pressed inside of him. They were kissing again. He was stroking himself, lining up against Draco's entrance. Draco begged again and Ron pushed forward.
He had been expecting the feel of warm tightness, but it never came. Ron swore softly, shifting on his knees. Draco arched below him, letting out a soft whine. Ron positioned himself again and pushed, closing his eyes as he felt himself slowly enter the body below him. Draco opened his mouth in a silent scream, his head tilting as far back as he could.
Ron kept as still as possible, letting both of them get used to this. At least that was his intent. A low moan from Draco had him moving. He rested his hands on either side of Draco's head, thrusting as best he could. He barely heard the cries and begging from below him, too lost in the blur of what he was feeling around his cock.
Draco shuddered under him, squeezing his muscles, and Ron couldn't hold back as he came, collapsing on top of him.
It wasn't easy, dating the only child of the Malfoy line. The papers accused him of betraying his best friend. His family and friends grew more distant. There were times he wanted to break things with Draco just to please them. Draco seemed to know when that was happening, however, and would pull Ron from his thoughts and into the darkness of the bedroom.
They never went on dates, but there was an unspoken agreement between them. They weren't enemies, they weren't exactly friends, but they were so much more than that. Just the thought of the Malfoy heir was enough to speed Ron's heart.
He didn't even think of love until the day Narcissa passed in her sleep. Both remaining Malfoys were called and, as Ron had spent the night with Draco, he was dragged along. Lucius didn't cry at the news of his wife. Ron had to hold onto his shocked boyfriend. The shock soon became sobs and Ron slowly moved them to the waiting couch. Draco held onto him tightly and Ron couldn't find the heart to tell him things would be okay. For him, they would never be okay.
Betty granted him a week off to help with Draco's grief and Ron didn't think he would ever be as grateful to her as he was then. It had taken some time, but soon enough Draco was back to part of his old self. Ron was happy for him and continued on with his life as best he could, being there for the other man as much as he could. Things seemed to turn around since, several months after he started seeing Draco, his mum contacted him to apologize. Ron brought Draco to the Burrow for a family dinner later that week and, for the first time since the war, Ron felt at peace.
That night, as he lay curled around Draco's body, Harry Potter opened his eyes.
Ron walked into chaos. Just yesterday before he left, the St. Mungos had been calm, people doing their normal routines. Neville was supposed to be by later to look in on his parents. From the constant flash of cameras, Ron wouldn't be surprised if he just turned and went home. That was exactly what he wanted to do and he wouldn't blame his friend for doing the same.
He stepped up to a very flustered Betty and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Go on home. I'm here a bit early for my shift."
"Ron!" Betty's eyes widened. "Oh, Ron, it's a miracle!"
Before she could answer, the reporters noticed him. One gasped and pointed. "It's Ronald Weasley!"
As on, the rest of them turned. Ron felt his face flush. "Er…"
"Your best friend just woke up for the first time in years. How do you feel?"
"Are you glad to have him back?"
"Have you been working here to keep an eye on his condition?"
"Are you and Miss Granger excited to have this day finally come?"
Ron backed away from the expectant faces, confused. As far as he knew, Neville was fine. He wasn't in the hospital. "I…"
"It's the Healer!"
The mass of reporters turned away from Ron and surrounded Healer Hannah Abbott. The girl gave them a pleasant smile, ignoring their questions as she made her way toward Ron. She took his arm and none-too-gently pulled him into an empty room. The door closed behind them and she went about silencing everything around them.
"I thought I'd talk to you before they did," she said when she finished. "I hoped Hermione would be here, but something has obviously delayed her. That or she doesn't want to talk to you, which I can understand."
"Why wouldn't she want to talk to me? Is she still upset we broke up?" Ron frowned. "It was a long time ago."
"I can assure you, she is happily bonded to Luna. This talk isn't about her, it's about you." Hannah folded her hands in her lap, leaning against the empty bed. "What do you remember of Harry Potter?"
Ron frowned. "He's… Gryffindor in my year. Followed us around, trying to get close to Nev."
"Surely you can't believe that."
"Why not?" Ron shrugged. "He was always trying to get in Nev's way. Trying to be the little hero." Suspicious, Ron crossed his arms and took a step back. "Did he put Neville here? Is he okay?"
"You don't remember."
"Remember what, exactly?"
She sighed. "Not long after the war, Draco Malfoy came here with a box. He gave it to the hospital and said that if Harry Potter woke and you still didn't remember, we were to give it to you."
"My Draco?" Ron snorted. "Impossible."
Hannah stood and put a hand on his shoulder. "Go home, Ron. I'll send the box by owl."
She paused, her hand on the door. "Yes?"
"What's going on?"
She smiled. "You'll know soon enough." The door closed behind her.
In the end, Ron used his Patronus to send a message to Draco, glad when the blond came to rescue him from the mob of people, snarling at anyone who dare approached. During that time, Ron wondered how he could have ever treated him wrong in school. He doubted anyone else would have come save him from the mass of reporters. Especially since they were talking about something he didn't even understand.
The box was already waiting for him at his flat. Draco avoided it, handing Ron a bottle of Firewhiskey instead. Ron took it, but he didn't bother pulling off the top. Now seemed like a terrible time to get utterly blasted.
"Stop brooding," Draco muttered, sliding his bottle back and forth over his palms. "It's just making me nervous."
"Why do you get to be nervous? You're not the one forgetting anything."
Draco scowled. "I must have forgotten my common sense before getting into your bed.'
"Fuck off, Malfoy. You liked it."
"That's beside the point." Draco leaned over, pulling Ron into a rough kiss. He pulled at the red head's lower lip as he moved away. "I should have known I'd get burnt by this."
Ron laughed, leaning their foreheads together. "You're the dragon, not me."
"Mmhm." Draco trailed his thumb over Ron's cheek. "Open the box, you wanker. You deserve to know."
Ron caught Draco's wrist as the man tried to stand. "I forgot for a reason, didn't I? What if I don't want to remember?" He hesitated. "Why should I want to remember?"
Draco pulled his wrist away. "Because there's somebody waiting for you."
Ron watched him go down the hall and into the bedroom. He had half a mind to join him, but he knew his lover well enough. Draco would send him right back out. Releasing himself to fate, Ron put his unopened bottle on the coffee table. It was now or never and he was sure more than one person would rather it be now.
The box was tall and slightly wide. Just enough room, he figured, to hold a Pensive in. Sure enough, as he touched the box and the sides seemed to melt away, a Pensive was exactly what it was. It glowed slightly and Ron had second thoughts about sticking his head inside of it. What if the memory it held was worse than he could have imagined? A nightmare come to life?
He took a deep breath and leaned in…
…An explosion off to the right. People screamed, running toward the large castle, Hogwarts, which stood looking battered and depressed. Though he knew he was in a memory, Ron pulled out his wand and ducked as a spell flew over his head. One more whipped past his ear, knocking down a Death Eater. He turned and his own face, pulled tight with anger, stood directly in front of him. Hermione stood next to him, her hair smoking and half gone. Behind them stood a line of others, wands out and ready. Draco Malfoy pulled a limping Goyle up on the farthest side.
Ron couldn't remember when this particular battle happened.
"Come on," he heard his own voice yell out. "Harry needs us to be strong. We will survive this!"
With a yell, the entire line of students ran head long into the battle before them. Most already carried injuries (Padma Patil looked blind), but they charged without fear. Lost and completely confused, Ron turned and ran after himself. The entire time, he was wondering where Neville was and why they were so intent on helping whiney Potter.
He dodged spells, even if he didn't have to, and followed the progress he and Hermione made through the Death Eaters until he could see Voldemort and a boy dueling by the Forest. The boy turned and Ron recognized him as Potter, although he looked different from what he remembered. No longer interested in what he was doing, Ron focused on the battle. He scanned for Neville, wondering if this was just a distraction technique. Battles did tend to run together for him; there were others he had forgotten the details of, he was sure.
To the left, hidden in the trees and behind a strong barrier, Neville hung from the branches. Suddenly, Ron knew. This was the final battle, but this was not how it went. Potter was strung up in the trees like a puppet, not Neville. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache come on. This was all wrong.
In front of him, Harry fell to his knees, exhausted. In his mind, Ron saw Neville do the same. Voldemort laughed, bringing down the shield that held Neville (Potter). He dragged the boy to the middle of the clearing, blood streaming from multiple wounds. His injuries had been what put Potter in that hospital bed.
The Potter in front of him narrowed his eyes. They spoke, but Ron couldn't hear the words. Whoever had this memory wasn't close enough. Potter's (Neville's) eyes went wide and suddenly the world turned while. Ron covered his face and stumbled back…
…The first thing he hit was the kitchen wall. Ron knew what had happened after that light. Voldemort was gone and Neville stood up, declaring it so. The scar on his forehead shrank until nobody could see it. They had to carry Potter away and put him in St. Mungos for the rest of his life.
Ron covered his face, not sure what to think. A hand rested on his head. He heard the rustle of clothing as Draco knelt in front of him. The musk of old books and Firewhiskey was strong and he reached out to the familiar arms.
"That wasn't how it happened…"
Draco let out a sigh, pulling Ron to his chest. "That was your memory."
"No, it can't be." Ron pulled away far enough to look at Draco. "Please don't lie to me."
"I'm not. It's—"
"I said not to lie!" Ron shoved Draco off of him. "Neville killed the bastard!"
"I had to replace Harry with somebody. I'm sorry, Ron, but you came and asked—"
"Shut up!" He stood, reaching down to drag a shaky Draco up as well. "I would know if my own mind was messed with."
"No you wouldn't."
Ron snarled and pulled Draco closer, into a hard kiss. He thrust his tongue into an unyielding mouth, pulling on the tie around Draco's neck. Why wouldn't he just shut up. Ron didn't try to be soft, and he didn't try to make this loving. Ron wanted to hurt Draco, to prove that he was right.
"Give me the truth," he demanded after letting go of the kiss.
Draco's eyes were still closed and he took in a sharp breath. "I shifted your memories." He hissed in a breath as Ron pulled at his hair. "You asked me to. Truth was too much."
Ron leaned forward, pressing his mouth next to Draco's ear. "That's bollocks," he whispered. Without waiting another moment, he titled his head and bit into Draco's neck.
It wasn't comfortable to thrust into Draco while on the hard kitchen floor, but Ron didn't care. He spread the other man's legs as far as he could before taking the leaking cock into his mouth. He scrapped his teeth against the flesh, grinning at the mix of moans and cries coming from Draco.
Ron thrust hard and fast into the body below him. Both their bodies slid on the floor, but Ron paid no mind to it. He needed to prove this, to show that it wasn't real. Except memories didn't lie, not your own and he had seen enough of his own to realize the faint feel of them. He squeezed his eyes shut, thrust one last time, and released. Draco's erection was still trapped between them, but he didn't care.
Ron moved to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling. His muscles protested any movement, but he forced himself to look at the body he had just abused on his kitchen floor. There were bruises all across Draco's skin, semen still trickling out between his legs, and his cock standing proud. Ron tried to feel guilty, but the only emotion he felt was emptiness. You weren't supposed to treat your own lover like that.
"Draco." No movement from the other except for the rise and fall of his chest. "Draco, I need it." The head turned slightly. "I need to remember."
Draco took a deep breath, raising a shaky hang to Ron's cheek. "I was afraid you would."
Draco leaned forward, placing a kiss to the underside of Ron's chin. "Utmemor," he whispered, then disappeared with a pop.
Ron barely heard as memories filled his mind.
His mum was embarrassing, making him go through a wall with a lone boy. He might have been a first year, but Ron was used to the barrier. Why should he have to baby sit a bloke that looked even poorer than they were? That quickly changed after they sat down and he noticed the ugly red scarring of a scar under the messy black fringe. Not hours later, Harry Potter rejected Draco Malfoy for him, a boring Weasley. Ron had a friend, and a powerful one. Hermione came later, but it was always Harry. And it was Harry who led them on adventure, on a fight to protect the stone.
That summer, the twins took their father's flying car and drove him to a barred window. It was Harry they rescued, starved against the bed sheets. It was Harry who helped him get back to school. Harry was the one who spoke Parseltongue and protected him from the spiders. Despite the horrible rumors, it was also Harry, not Neville, who rescued his sister and killed the giant snake.
Then Sirius Black was after his best friend. His best friend. Hermione's stupid cat chased his rat. The now silly fight between them over it. Harry's smile about the normalcy of the situation. Scabbers was a spy. No, Black was a spy; Scabbers was trying to keep them safe. Peter was trying to keep them safe. Snape exposed Professor Lupin's secret. They were in danger. Black escaped, Peter returned to his position as Ron's rat.
There was a tournament. Harry entered without telling him, without acknowledging that he had done so. No, Moody entered him. Peter snuck around and found out Moody's secret, but it was too late. Harry and Fleur disappeared. Voldemort returned alive, Fleur returned dead. Nobody believed them.
Umbridge was a bitch. She called Harry a liar, insisting he didn't see what he had. Lines form on Harry's hand. I must not tell lies. Ron gained some as well. I will not support liars. Together, with Hermione, they started an army to protect themselves. Peter was captured, but it was a lie. Voldemort sent images that weren't true. They were surrounded, the Order arrived. Peter fell beyond the Veil. It hurt more than Ron thought it would.
The war began that night. Snape was moved to Defense. They were confused, unsure of what was to become of things. Must run away. Must save the world. Horcruxes destroyed. Possession. Harry. Dumbledore fell to Snape; promise kept. Draco spied. Draco. The school was the final battle ground. Death. Victory. Pain.
Make me forget…
Boy-Who-Lived Finally Wakes
(photos by Colin Creevey)
To the relief of many, Harry Potter woke from his magical coma earlier yesterday morning. Friends and family were not informed for several hours until Healers were sure he would stay awake. Ronald Weasley, war hero and best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived, walked into work unprepared and unaware of the news that faced him on this wondrous day (readers are reminded that Mr. Weasley worked outside the ward where Mr. Potter was kept).
Ron took a deep breath as he approached the all-too-familiar doors of Malfoy Manor. With his memories now whole, he wanted to hex the Slytherin that was behind the ominous tall doors. He also wanted to take him against the wall and make sure neither of them could stand the next morning. Nervous, but determined, Ron raised his fist and knocked.
However, no one has seen the whereabouts of Mr. Weasley since Draco Malfoy, former Spy and friend to Mr. Weasley, came to help him out of vicious reporters wanting to get his reaction. The family assured The Daily Prophet that he was simply shocked and couldn't handle the public eye. This author, however, doubts that and truly wishes to know where he disappeared to and why.
A house elf lead Ron to the parlor room that Ron remembered quite well. Draco begged him to take him on the duvet in the corner, the same one where Draco now sat, one knee crossed over the other. His hands calmly rested on each arm of the chair, but Ron was more focused on those stony eyes.
He stopped at the foot of the chair, inches from Draco's legs. "We need to fuck."
Hermione Granger and her life partner Luna Lovegood refused to answer questions regarding Mr. Weasley. Ms. Granger politely told us to go back to our desks and write the truth. This author is trying to do just that and asks the cooperation of the family and friend affected by this new found information.
Draco's eyebrow quirked, amusement spreading across his features. "We need to what?"
Ron blushed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Talk. We need to talk."
Draco leaned forward, looping a finger into Ron's trousers. "There's room for both. You talk, I'll fuck."
As the zipper to his pants came down, loud in the otherwise quiet room, Ron could find no room to argue.
A representative of the young Malfoy heir denied his client was doing anything wrong. "He's helping a friend cope with a situation he didn't think would happen," he told us. "Mr. Malfoy is doing what any friend would do. Please leave him alone."
The warm mouth around his dick was always more than enough to distract Ron. This time was no different. He combed his fingers through Draco's hair, pulling closer and pushing him back. In and out, fucking his mouth. Every time he tried to talk, Draco would pull back enough to slide his tongue over the tip. The only sounds that managed to escape Ron's mouth were moans.
Being close to Mr. Potter in Hogwarts allowed this author and her photographer access to Mr. Potter's new room and we were able to speak with him briefly on what he did and did not remember. Though he didn't remember the last Battle, he relaxed after we told him of You-Know-Who's defeat. He then told us, "If I were Ron, I'd be shocked I woke up, too."
Draco's pants came off with a final tug. Ron didn't bother looking to where he tossed them, his mind focused on the raise of the navy boxers in front of him. Draco smirked, his arms stretched over the top of smooth chair. His robes were spread out under him, pulling slightly at his arms. The normally pristine shirt wrinkled across his chest, a few buttons mission but otherwise still on.
"I should bind you like this…"
"Careful, Weasley." Draco stretched, putting a foot on Ron's chest to stop his forward movements. "I'm not into bondage."
"So you tell me."
When asked how he felt about the relationship between his (former?) best friend and his rival, Mr. Potter grew quiet. We sat silently, waiting to hear his thoughts. Finally he told us, "I don't see how they can get along. Malfoy always hated Ron, even after he helped us in the war. I just think there's too much bad tension between them."
Draco shivered under Ron's fingers, his eyes closed in what he only suspected as blissful pleasure. His erection stood between his legs, aching to be buried into the willing body beneath him. Ron wanted to hold out longer. He dug his nails in, raking them down Draco's back. A hiss met the move, followed almost immediately by a low moan. Ron place open-mouth kisses along the red marks his nails created.
Ron pressed against Draco's backside. "Who?"
Draco rocked back against Ron's now trapped erection. "Weasley."
"That's right, Malfoy." Ron moved his fingers up Draco's side and to his mouth. "I fucking hate you."
Draco's answer was to tilt his head and take Ron's fingers into his mouth. His tongue moved over them with the same enthusiasm he had shown Ron's cock. His tongue went between the digits, wetting both of them evenly.
It wasn't long before we were asked to leave the room since Mr. Potter was still weak, but expected to make a full recovery. We at The Daily Prophet hope the recovery process is speedy and, when Mr. Potter is well, we will know exactly where his friend has wandered off to.
If Ron could only hear one sound for the rest of his life, it would be the sound Draco made when he first pushed inside. It didn't even have to be when his dick entered; one finger was enough. Draco would whimper, his legs spreading just a bit further apart. If he were on his back, a hand would go to his mouth to try and hold the noise in.
He didn't give Draco much time to get used to things. After all, they had been on his kitchen floor the day before. Ron pulled his fingers out after a few quick stretches and then positioned himself. Draco gripped the top of the chair, his knees on the cushion and his arse in the air. Standing behind him gave Ron the perfect position and he eased in.
Draco shuddered and Ron reached around, wrapping his fingers around Draco's leaking cock. "Not yet," he snapped, thrusting all the way in. "Don't you fucking dare, Malfoy."
If any of our readers have any insight on where Mr. Weasley might be, our window is open and we have Owl treats at the ready. Any valid information will be generously rewarded with a free subscription and other extra compensation. Ronald Weasley, watch out. We will find the truth.
Ron gripped Draco's shoulders as he thrust, using the angle to go as deep as he could. After he let go of Draco, he knew neither of them would last much longer. He thrust as fast as he could, grinning as Draco cried out below him, coming over the cloak they never managed to toss out of the way. The tightening of muscles pushed him over the edge and, with one last thrust, Ron released inside of the still twitching body below him.
We hope to find the truth in the days to come. For now, we rejoice in the fact that Harry Potter, our Savior, is alive and well, ready to take on the next great adventure. I know I, at least, will be there every step of the way.
The fire blazed in front of them and, despite the heat, Draco was curled comfortable between Ron's legs. After sliding off the now ruined duvet, Draco had dragged them to this spot and ordered the fire to be lit. Since then, they had sat in silence, hands roaming over sweaty and slightly sticky skin.
Draco's hand came up to his mouth after he finished sliding it over Ron's spent (but still very interested) cock. He licked his fingers clean before turning and sucking on Ron's neck.
"You fuck like your Patronus would," he murmured after a moment.
Startled, Ron shifted so he could look down at his lover. "I do what?"
"You heard me." Draco took Ron's lower lip into his mouth, pulling it with his teeth as he moved away. "Just like a dog."
Ron smirked, pushing Draco to lie on the floor. "Then what are you? A bitch in heat?"
"Fuck off, Weasley."