Eight Days a Week
Chapter 4 - Wednesday
Ron and Draco scowl at each other from their seats on opposite
sides of the room, both looking more like patients at St. Mungo's than
visitors. Draco's sporting a black eye and a swollen jaw, Ron has a
busted lip and a sore stomach. Just looking at Draco, even from across
the room, is making Ron madder and madder. That stupid smirk; that
limp, awful hair. Pointy, stuck-up nose; evil, gleaming eyes.
Finally, Ron can stand it no longer. Standing up and storming over to the glaring blond, Ron barks at him, "Closet. Now."
He turns away without waiting for a response and finds himself only
mildly surprised when he senses Draco behind him as he gets to the
door. The pair walk inside, silently, before Draco turns and glowers at
the other man. This time, it's Ron with his back to the door. "Nice
turtleneck, Weasley. Got something to hide?"
"Hell yeah I do! You bit me, you bloody great git!"
"Embarrassed because you liked it?"
"WHAT?!"
"Don't 'what' me, I saw the way your face looked after I did it."
"Oh really? Then please enlighten me as to what it looked like, Malfoy,
because I'm finding it difficult to believe that you touching me in any
way could bring me pleasure."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Is what a challenge?"
"You think you're somehow immune to me? That I couldn't make you dissolve in my hands if I wanted to?"
Ron looks at the Slytherin funny, not liking where this conversation is
going. "I didn't mean to insult your impressive prowess, Ferret. I'm
sure having enough partners to fill the Great Hall would teach you
something, but fortunately for me I have no interest in finding out
what."
"Why? Because you don't swing that way?" Draco smirks when he receives no response. "Thought so."
Ron barely has time to take a step back before Draco lunges at him,
pinning the larger man against the door and slamming their mouths
together. The kiss is rough, fierce, like nothing Ron has ever felt
before. Kisses are supposed to be soft and sweet, loving and gentle.
Draco's lips are demanding against his, bruising in their sharp
desperation. Ron isn't quite sure what to do, how to react. He settles
his hands at Draco's waist on instinct.
Encouraged, Draco insinuates his tongue into Ron's mouth. Running his
hand down Ron's body, Draco cups his crotch and begins to rub. The
feeling jolts Ron to his senses. Pulling away from the man in his
grasp, he pants and mutters, "No. Not like this."
"Not like what?" Draco stands back, confused.
"Like this. I don't want... It shouldn't be this way. You
don't have to prove yourself to me. I'm quite prepared to believe that
you're some sort of sex god. Hell, I've known that for years."
"Is that what you think this is about?"
"Isn't it? You wanted to get me hard. Congratulations, I'm hard. I'm a
25-year-old guy who just had a gorgeous blond shove his tongue down his
throat. Surprise, surprise, I'm hard. Are you happy? Can I go now
before you begin to gloat?"
"You stupid, foolish Gryffindor," Draco snaps. "This isn't about sex. This is about you and me and unfinished business."
"So you've said. Funny, I don't recall us ever having business like this between us before."
"Why else do you think I'm here?"
"What?" Ron blinks, befuddled.
"I'm fixing things."
"What things?"
"Things that need fixing."
Ron is sure there's something Draco's saying that he's not getting.
