Part 3

Ron looked up at the sound of his door opening and frowned as Harry wandered in; one of these days the Boy Who Lived was going to walk in on something that would dearly make him wish that he was the Boy Who Learned To Knock.

Harry flopped down onto the bed.

“Er…something I can help you with mate?” The red head smiled wryly at his friend.

The bespectacled wizard looked up at him hopefully. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any orphaned chocolate frogs looking for a good home?”

“Sorry mate, you and Seamus cleaned me out last night.” He didn’t mention his emergency stash; he had a feeling he was going to need it later.

Harry shrugged philosophically. “Worth a try.” He started nervously picking at the bed cover.

Ron had a feeling he knew where this was going and he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to have this particular conversation with his best friend or indeed anyone; to be honest he’d even interrupted himself a couple of times of late and changed the subject.

“Er…Ron can I ask you something?” Harry continued to look at the cover.

Well, that couldn’t be good, not if he couldn’t even look at him.

“Sure Harry. What’s on your mind?” He hoped he sounded less nervous than he felt.

The other boy lay back on the bed and suddenly seemed to find the ceiling fascinating. His next words came out in a rush, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t get it all said at once he’d lose his nerve and up and run from the room instead. “Neville told me that you took Malfoy to the Infirmary after he fell off his broom earlier and that you waited to make sure he was okay and then even went in and visited him.” He paused to take a hasty breath. “And well Hermione was right at dinner…you have been staring at him an awful lot and then what you said…you know about…erm…a plan to make him…er…think you fancied him,” he’d slowed down considerably now realising where his next words would take him and clearly not at all keen to get there, “and well I was wondering if maybe…er…perhaps…possibly…erm you did.” He sat up and finally looked at Ron. “Fancy him that is. Er…”

Poor Harry looked so earnest that for a moment Ron was tempted to deny everything but he couldn’t lie – not to Harry; besides he had a feeling that things had gone too far for lies.

“Yeh Harry. Yeh I do.” He stared out of the window waiting for the fall out.

The other boy shifted on the bed. “Oh okay. You do know that the stupid poncy git fancies the arse off you too, right?”

For a moment the only sound in the room was the metaphorical thud that echoed through Ron’s head as his jaw hit the floor.

Harry was the first to speak. “Er…Ron you might want to shut your mouth now.” Then with a wicked grin. “Malfoy might have a use for it but I’ll pass if you don’t mind.”

Ron closed his mouth with an audible snap. He looked to where a still grinning Harry lay on his bed waggling his eyebrows madly.

“Right, that’s it!” he declared. “From now on I’m rationing the amount of time you spend with Seamus.”

Harry’s only response was more furious waggling.


Draco didn’t so much as walk from the Infirmary the next morning as stalk. He clearly had something on his mind and was almost certainly going to be sharing his thoughts with someone in the very near future; there was a more than fair chance that the said someone was not going to enjoy the discussion.

When he arrived at his destination he didn’t bother knocking at the door - he considered it an act of supreme self-control that he didn’t blast the bloody thing off its hinges. The sole occupant of the room stood up at his entrance and slowly raised her arm so he could see what she was holding.


Of course Pansy had known that this day would come. And so like a true Slytherin she had taken the necessary precautions; had long had a defensive strategy all thought out. True there was the definite possibility of casualties but such are the vagaries of war.

“Put the wand down Draco or the penguin gets it.”

It all proved too much for the already distraught boy; he collapsed onto the floor and howled for Mr Snuffles; his gender transformation apparently complete.


On Draco’s fourth birthday Lucius had taken him to the zoo. This had come as a bit of a surprise to the small boy; his father rarely spent more than ten minutes of his busy day in his company; just long enough to tell him what happened to naughty little boys who didn’t grow up to be good little Death Eaters. A father/son outing to the zoo was pretty much low down on his list of things to expect, even on his birthday.

Much to his relief not thirty seconds after arriving at the foul-smelling place Lucius had announced in a most solemn voice, “This is not an excursion boy. It is the start of your education.” Ah, this was more like the world as Draco knew it; he’d received a ‘stern lesson in life’ as his first ever birthday gift and had become rather familiar with the packaging over the ensuing years. This year’s gift was entitled ‘Know Your Enemy’ (batteries not included).

For the next four hours Draco was dragged from one enclosure to the next, accompanied by Lucius’ scathing commentary on how pathetic Muggles truly were if the animals they held in fear and awe were anything to go by. The tiger was apparently a perfect example - after all it only had ONE mouth and no magical powers - so what was all the fuss about? Why were they even kept in cages? On and on and on the long day wore ever on….until they came to the penguins.

Draco took one look at the ridiculous waddling beasts and fell instantly in love. While his father berated their appearance and belittled the Muggle children with their noses pressed to the glass, Draco stood in stunned silence, eyes wide and a dreamy smile on his lips. In the many years since that day only one other sight had ever rendered him quite as awestruck.

It had taken Lucius twenty minutes and several promises of eternities of pain to finally haul the boy away from his new found love. However once in the gift shop - Lucius had been secretly impressed by the sort of mind that made sure that the only way out was by way of shelves upon shelves of over-priced substandard stock designed solely to appeal to greedy little tykes with grabby hands; clearly some Muggles at least would not be out of place at a Death Eater meeting - Draco had refused point blank to leave until his father bought him a stuffed penguin. He’d employed his usual means of persuasion - sitting down in the middle of the gift shop and screaming blue, purple and orange murder. After several moments of contemplation Lucius had decided the trouble of producing another heir far outweighed the trouble of giving in to the red-faced howling beast that was currently possessing his son’s body (lucky for Draco that his father was a screaming homosexual who’d really rather have his bits removed than have to wave them anywhere near Narcissa again).

And thus Mr Snuffles made his rather inauspicious entry into Draco’s life.


Pansy rolled her eyes at her friend’s somewhat dramatic response. It’s not as if she’d ever actually damage the stupid bleeding thing. She was cruel but not that cruel; she was only too aware of what the ratty old toy meant to Draco. Honestly at this rate she was going to have to start shopping for the poor boy…padded or non padded…panties or thong and yes he would make rather a pretty girl but good grief things could start to get really complicated.

Half an hour later the tears had finally stopped and most of the snot had been wiped away. They were both lying on Pansy’s bed by this time, Draco’s head resting on her chest as she stroked the idiot’s hair.

“What am I going to do?” Draco’s voice trembled as he spoke. “Weasley knows Pansy. My life is over.”

She somehow resisted the urge to smack him, “He’s known for over a week Draco.” She paused to allow her words to register. “And how exactly has your life in that past week been ruined again?”

Several minutes passed without a word. Then Draco sat up and looked down at her with a frown. “Well, now that you mention it…”

Pansy sat up too. “Exactly!” She shook her head at the boy next to her. “Don’t you think that he’d have reacted a little more hysterically if he’d been that repulsed by the idea of you wanting in his pants?”

Draco’s thoughtful look morphed instantly into a scowl. “Must you reduce everything to your level Pansy?”

She laughed then said. “Oh I’m so sorry Draco…of course I meant to say the idea that you want to serenade him on a nightly basis and have his babies.”

“Sarcastic bitch.”

Pansy stuck her tongue out.

“Look. The point is if the Weasel had really been appalled at what he read,” she winked at him, “not to mention saw, then surely he would have told Potter and Granger? The fact that Potter’s head hasn’t exploded in the last few days is probably proof of his continued ignorance and as I had to tell Granger myself…”

“You WHAT?!!”

Oh dear. Pansy carefully reached down to where Mr Snuffles lay forgotten on the floor; she had a feeling that she might need his services again in the very near future.


Draco was still angry as they took their usual seats at dinner; his limping friends bore a variety of sore shins, aching ribs and throbbing feet as testimony to this fact.

Goyle leant over towards Crabbe and asked in what he probably thought constituted a whisper (but actually echoed the length of the table), “so what’s up with Draco? Why is he in such a foul mood?”

Crabbe nodded knowingly and glancing over at the still glowering blond answered in an equally loud voice. “Pansy says it’s his ‘time of the month.’”

Greg screwed his face up painfully in thought. “What? Tuesday?”

Draco dropped his head onto the table and quietly started to bang it repeatedly on the hard, wooden surface. Sometimes he found pain helped…

Ten minutes of silence - well apart from irregular thuds - followed. Then Goyle spoke up again. “Funny though…I thought it was ’cos Weasley wouldn’t stand still long enough for Draco to shag him.”

Pansy made a mental note to commiserate with Potter at some point about just how painful liquid spewing from one’s nose actually is…


Draco’s mood had improved considerably by the end of dinner; this probably had more than a little to do with the increasingly sexy smiles being sent his way by a certain red-haired Gryffindor.

When he had first entered the dining hall his mood had been positively vile; his anger stoked by Pansy’s seeming betrayal. Bad enough that the evil witch had told Weasley…but Granger too! He’d never felt quite so close to hexing his best friend into oblivion and Voldermort knew he’d been sorely tempted over the years. Add to this the performing baboons opposite him and his misery was complete.

Once the throbbing in his head had finally reached the required pitch to block out his humiliation so that it was merely a dull ache, he slowly sat back up. He had carefully avoided looking over at the Gryffindor table since taking his seat but he now risked a glance in that familiar direction. And that’s what really rankled; what made his stomach clench and his heart sick; the thought that he would have to give this up. For seven years his guilty pleasure had been Weasel Watching. It was his secret comfort; Weasley could despise him, loathe him, wish him dead or just gone but he couldn’t take this away from him; he was allowed to look. There had been times when it was all that kept him at the school. He’d lie awake at night and anticipate the arrival of another day spent in search of all that vibrant fury; while his dreams were filled with a kaleidoscope of reds and blues against a pale dappled background. And now it had been stolen from him; stolen with a carelessness that made him want to scream and put his hand through glass….

So he took one last look; one final gaze before he had to deny himself. He let out a wistful sigh that turned into a hitched breath as Weasley raised his head and he was suddenly enveloped in blue. Startled momentarily by the shy smile that spread across the Gryffindor’s lips he missed his chance to look away and thereby dismiss it as no more than a casual glance; he found he didn‘t mind at all.


Pansy rolled her eyes in disgust as she looked at her friend. She couldn’t believe he’d had the temerity to berate her for over an hour about betraying his trust and revealing his deepest, darkest secret to all and sundry - two bloody people Draco - when all anyone had to do was look at the poor besotted clown to know the truth. Git. She rammed her arm sharply into the blond boy’s elbow dislodging it rather effectively from where it rested on the table. Unfortunately it had also been supporting Draco’s head and the ensuing thud as the boy’s chin hit the table echoed loudly throughout the hall.

Oops. Pansy tried hard to suppress her grin. “Oh dear how clumsy of me.” She smiled sweetly at her fuming friend as he rubbed furiously at his abused chin. She glanced over at the Gryffindor table where Weasley was wincing in sympathy. Leaning closer she whispered into Draco’s ear. “Don’t look now Draco darling but I think Weasley wants to come over and kiss it better.”

Draco immediately stopped glaring at her and shot a look over at Ron; almost instantly his face transformed from the dark scowl to a silly smile. Voldermort! Pansy shook her head disgustedly. Aint love grand.


The looks being exchanged between the two boys grew ever more seductive and heated but little else occurred for a while. Until that is the unfortunate incident involving Gregory and a bowl of mashed potatoes.

Draco would later defend himself with the thought that it wasn’t really his fault…Weasley eating dessert clearly required a health warning; something along the lines of do not watch as may result in those of a delicate nature developing sudden uncontrollable arm spasms


Pansy looked across the table at Goyle’s stricken face, then down to where the bowl of potatoes was slowly sliding down his chest.

Nodding helpfully at the boy’s shirt front she asked with a wide smirk. “Would you like gravy with that?”

Crabbe leant forward darting a quick glance at Draco who seemed oblivious to this latest development and asked conspiratorially. “Is this something to do with Draco’s ‘time of the month’ too?”

“Oh no Vincent.” Pansy flicked her eyes to her friend. “This was caused by Draco’s extreme fondness for bananas.” She leant closer to Draco’s ear and spoke louder in an attempt to distract the idiot from Weasley. “You see the stupid dolt didn’t see the large bowl of them right under his nose.” She nodded over towards the Gryffindor table. “He thought Weasley was about to devour the last one and became a little over-wrought.” She nudged the blond boy with her shoulder. “Isn’t that right Draco?” She nudged him again, harder this time and finally succeeded in tearing his attention away from the red head at the other table.

“What?” He turned towards her a rather dazed, beatific smile still in place.

Pansy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Is it true…is Weasley’s banana the only one for you Draco…?”

She watched in amusement as her words slowly seeped through to the bewildered boy’s brain. There you go…there’s the Draco we all know and love…well okay fear.

The smile had slipped away to be replaced by a fierce scowl. “What the hell are you talking about you silly bint.” Catching sight of Goyle he shifted his attention to the unfortunate boy who was still trying to remove the last of the potato from his shirt. “Merlin Goyle, your table manners are gross.” Shaking his head in disgust he returned his gaze to Weasley who was now reaching for a bowl of strawberries; he let out a contented sigh and rested his chin back onto his raised hands, the smile settling easily back into place.


Draco and Pansy were the last to leave the hall. Draco claimed he wanted to finish his apple but Pansy knew that after watching Weasley slurping his way through a dozen strawberries the blond needed some time to erm…settle back down as it were.

She shifted herself up on to the table ignoring Draco’s “urgh, how unhygienic!” Leaning over she whacked the boy sharply across the head.

“Ow!” Draco clutched his smarting face with a scowl. “What the fuck was that for you silly cow!”

“That,” Pansy explained, “was for accusing me of sharing your big secret amid much arm waving and hysterical tears I might add!”

Draco opened his mouth to respond but a hastily raised finger warned him not to even try it. He had quite a bit experience with that gesture so knew when to shut up.

Pansy was in full flow now. “You have the absolute gall to wail at me about 'betrayal’ and 'back-stabbing’ and then…then,” she paused to take a gulp of air, “and then you blatantly flaunt this so called ‘secret’ in front of two hundred gawking spectators! Bastard!”

The blond frowned in genuine confusion. “What are you talking about? 'Blatantly flaunt’? I did no such thing. As always I was a master of discretion and subtlety. I‘m not sure Weasley even noticed my glancing occasionally at him let alone anyone else”

The dark haired girl slapped her hand to her forehead. “Oh please! Can you hear yourself?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Discretion…subtlety…occasionally! Draco you and Weasley spent over an hour and a half eye-fucking! Do you honestly think no one noticed?” Voldermort she’d even seen McGonagall loosening her blouse at one point…

Draco folded his arms across his chest and pouted. “Really Pansy, I’m sure your parents would be so pleased to see all the money they spent on that expensive summer school for young ladies has produced such a well-spoken genteel sort of girl.”

His friend just gave him a look. “Do the words pot, kettle and black mean anything to you Draco?” She tilted her head as if in thought. “Now let’s see if I can remember the quote exactly ‘every time I catch a glimpse of Weasley’s arse I just want to bend him over the nearest convenient surface and fuck him into the ground.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Or how about ‘the sight of the Weasel in his Quidditch gear makes me want to reach inside my trousers and touch myself until I co…’”

“Yes, yes…I think you’ve made your point!” Draco turned accusing eyes on her. “And that’s another thing we’ve not really addressed…how dare you break into my room and read my diary.” He paused. “And then tell someone else how to bloody well do it!” After another thoughtful pause. “And just how did you know how to do it? I had taken very strong security measures to protect my privacy.”

Pansy shook her head slowly. “Draco, my blind, half-deaf, curse-addled great aunt could have guessed your passwords…”

The blond stared open-mouthed in shock for a moment before recovering his wits. “Don’t be ridiculous Pansy. I have an extremely cunning and singularly devious mind; few if any could penetrate its depths.”

Pansy snorted. Just then the last occupant of the Hufflepuff table walked by. Pansy shouted over to him. “Hey you!” The boy looked up startled at being addressed by one of the Slytherin hierarchy; he was a first year and clearly appalled to find himself the subject of her scrutiny. “It’s okay,” she tried to sound reassuring but was well aware that the murderous look Draco was throwing the poor boy wasn’t really helping her case. “Look, I just want to ask you something.”

The boy nodded nervously.

Pansy smiled encouragingly. “If I asked you what Draco Malfoy’s most treasured possession was what would you say?”

The boy gulped loudly and his eyes shifted fearfully from Pansy to Draco.

“Don’t worry,” Pansy assured him, “I won’t let him hex you.”

If anything this seemed to terrify the boy even more but at least it forced a response; evidently he wasn’t keen to stick around long enough to test her promise. Taking a deep breath and darting a last swift glance at the angry blond he spat out, “Mr Snuffles!” After a brief pause he elaborated with, “That’s his stuffed penguin.”

He needn’t have worried about Draco’s possible response as the Slytherin was far too busy doing an impression of a demented guppy to do much else. The boy took advantage of the blond’s momentary distraction - not to mention Pansy’s laughing fit - to beat a hasty retreat towards the exit.

Just before he reached the door however, he stopped and turned back. “Miss!” He shouted back to Pansy; still doubled over with laughter she could only raise her head in answer. The Hufflepuff took this as permission to continue. “I think that Mr Snuffles might be on his way out.” He risked a quick glance at Draco. “And Mr Weasel might be on his way in!” And the cheeky bugger actually winked at her before turning tail and running for his life.

That was it; Pansy fell off the table.


Draco was trudging his way disconsolately towards the dungeons, his humiliation complete, when his way was suddenly blocked by a grinning Granger. He leapt back in fright, a rather high-pitched squeak escaping his lips; Voldermort her eyebrows were terrifying!

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He screeched at her. “Give a boy some warning before you set your larvae at him for Merlin’s sake.”

Granger frowned, making the eyebrows do strange and horrible things; Draco shuddered. “Never mind. What do you want you dirty little mud…Gryffindor.” He figured if he wanted to entice Weasley into his bed then perhaps he should start making nice with his friends…urgh, the things he did for a nice arse

The stupid girl actually had the gall to laugh and then thrust a piece of paper at him. “Here! Ron asked me to give you this.” And with a flick of her bushy hair she flounced away.

Draco leant against the wall and stared at the paper in his hand. He was inordinately pissed off to notice that his stupid bloody hands were shaking. It wasn’t as if he cared about what the ginger git had to say. Then the big girly part of him that he liked to think he kept buried deep down inside but which Pansy insisted go out shopping with her every Saturday, let out a groan and thought please let him like me…Fuck, he was doomed!

With shaky fingers he unfolded the paper.

Meet me in the Gryffindor stand at 8pm.


Draco grinned.


Weasley arrived first; not surprising given that Draco had deliberately positioned himself half an hour earlier behind the heavy canvas at the foot of the stand opposite with the sole purpose of getting a good, long look at the boy before he actually joined him.

He sighed loudly as the Gryffindor lowered his body into a seat and stretched out those long, long legs. Omnioculars were wonderful things

The red head reached up a hand and slipped his long fingers through his hair. Draco groaned and thought how soft…?

All at once Weasley hitched a leg onto the back of the seat in front and let his knee fall outwards giving Draco a quite magnificent view of…those amazing Muggle jeans…

To the Slytherin’s wide-eyed wonder the other boy then started to trail one hand lazily up the inside seam of the bent leg. Up and up it went, pausing at his groin and then down, down. Draco found his breathing following the rhythm of those artful fingers…breathe in on the upward swipe…and out on the downward spiral…’til he was quite light-headed.

Just when he thought he might keel over the hand stopped. Draco lifted the omnioculars to the red head’s face hoping for a hint of what he would do next.

He waved.

The dirty, sneaky, conniving, sexy bastard was waving right at him.

Draco lowered the omnioculars and let out a huffed breath. So much for stealth


By the time Draco was walking towards where Weasley was seated he was pretty much over his fit of pique; after all it might be a bit embarrassing to be caught peeking but the fact that the other boy had been willing to provide a show was surely a good sign.

Weasley was still sprawled in the seat, although both legs were now on the floor. He made himself stop at the seat before Weasley’s and leant back against the rail opposite; it had taken quite some restraint to not position himself between the other boy’s outstretched knees but he’d somehow managed it.

He tried for nonchalance as he nodded a greeting to the red head. He failed miserably. But he refused to run; not when he was this close.

Weasley leant forward, bracing both elbows on his thighs. He looked up shyly at Draco through pale eyelashes and the Slytherin nearly swallowed his tongue. Voldermort, he was a dead man

“So…” The Gryffindor’s voice was low and husky. “Are we doing this?” And he reached out a freckled hand to touch Draco’s trembling thigh.

“Yes.” The blond squeaked back.

Weasley stood up and pressed his long frame up against the other boy. Placing his hands on Draco’s hips he leant forward slowly until their lips brushed feather soft against each other. Whoa…how fucking soft? Draco suspected that his brain may have been melting out of his ears. He really didn’t care. Suddenly unable to help himself he lurched forward and sucked Weasley’s lower lip into his mouth. That seemed all the encouragement the other boy needed as he opened his mouth to Draco and let the blond’s tongue in.

Eventually they had to part or pass out. Personally Draco would have happily opted for the second rather than stop sucking on Weasley’s marvellously flexible tongue but sadly the other boy went with the first option.

For a long moment they just stood wrapped in each other’s arms and looking. Then Weasley grinned and said. “So this journal of yours…”

Draco ducked his head and to his undying chagrin blushed. But really just how much humiliation could one bloke take?

He was surprised by a low chuckle from the other boy. His arms were still wrapped tightly around Draco’s waist so he used his nose to nudge the Slytherin’s head back up until they were looking into each other’s eyes. He smiled at Draco and then leant forward to place a light kiss at the edge of his mouth. “I enjoyed reading it Draco.” The blond’s breath hitched; that was the first time Weasley had ever called him that.

Suddenly it was the Gryffindor’s turn to blush but he didn’t look away. “You have quite the imagination there…and who knew you were so artistic.” Draco buried his face in the red head’s shoulder but Weasley just leant further forward so he could whisper low in his ear. “I was particularly intrigued by page seventy-three…is that even physically possible?” He paused to suck wetly on the blond’s earlobe.

Draco bit on his lip to stifle the groan that was fighting its way to the surface. He nearly groaned again - this time in disappointment - when the red head released his now rather soggy ear.

“Of course I’m fairly limber and surprisingly flexible for someone of my build,” he paused to allow his words to sink in; continuing once the sudden hitch in the other boy’s breathing told him they had. “so it probably could work. Why don’t we go back to your room and give it a try?” And he lowered his head and sucked gently at Draco’s pale skin.

For a moment Draco thought his legs would give out but then one word filtered through the mist of lust that currently constituted his brain. Room He grabbed hold of the Gryffindor’s hand and pulled the startled boy after him as he set off running in the direction of the dungeons.

They were about half-way there when something other than roombednaked and Weasley finally penetrated. Draco stopped abruptly causing Ron to crash into him.

Once he had recovered from the impact the red head stared at the other boy with wide eyes wondering where this was going now. Had Draco changed his mind…because if he had then there was a good chance that there was going to be a very dead Slytherin stinking up the hallway

When Draco looked up into Ron’s flushed face the sight of the Gyffindor’s bright eyes and kissed bruised lips nearly unglued him again. The temptation to just jump the gorgeous thing then and there was almost overwhelming but then wiser heads prevailed…for page seventy-three he’d need more leverage and a softer landing

“Er Weasley…I think it might be better if we go to your room…mine is erm…currently occupied.”

Ron let out a relieved breath. “Oh is that all!” And he renewed his grip on the blond’s hand and started to run back towards Gryffindor tower.

Draco tried to remain upright as he ran along behind but Weasley’s arse kept distracting him, causing him to trip more than once. He was just glad that he had remembered in time that he had left Mr Snuffles enjoying a tea party on his bed with Fluffy, the stuffed Flobberworm and Bendy his rubber Grindylow…Draco wasn’t sure if he was ready to share his toys. Any of them he thought as he cast a propriety look over Weasley’s body as he paused at the portrait of The Fat Lady.


Four hours later two tired, very satiated and very, very naked boys lay on Weasley’s bed. Draco was trailing a hand lazily up and down the red head’s back, still lost in the newness of being able to finally touch, a little afraid to lose contact lest it prove to be his last.

Weasley sighed and his eyes fluttered open. He smiled over at the other boy. “Mmm…that’s nice.”

Draco smiled back and rested his hand on the small of the Gryffindor’s back. His smile suddenly fell away as he watched Weasley’s face break into a scowl. Fuck! He’s having second thoughts…he hates me


Ron sat up and reached under his pillow. His fingers closed around the edges of what his hand had touched a moment ago. Pulling the object from under the pillow he frowned down at Draco who was blushing madly. It was a book; a book that hadn’t been there when he’d woken up that morning. He raised his eyebrows in mild enquiry at the blond who was looking uncharacteristically embarrassed.

“Did you…” He started but Draco sat up hastily and interrupted him.

“I didn’t mean to imply that this would be anything more than a one-off. And I understand if you don’t want to do it again.” He paused to glance at the other boy; the bright-eyed grin he encountered lending him courage. “But well if you did want to…continue this I thought you might want to study up…”

Ron sat up straighter and opened the book. Turning to the first page he paused to cough dramatically, and then with a wink at a grinning Draco he started to read. “The Illustrated Journal of Draco Malfoy, Volume Two…”


Part 2 ~~~~~~~~ Back to Ron/Draco ~~~~~~~~           


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