Title: Not Necessarily Wanting Me

Author: Lorien_Eve

Pairings: Harry/Ron, Ron/Draco

Disclaimer: All the characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I dirtied them up a bit, but I promise to have them nice and clean when I give them back.

Spoilers: Everything

Rating: PG - NC-17; this chapter is PG-13.

Feedback: I'd love some!

Summary: Ron's in love with Harry, but he's afraid Harry will never feel the same way. Draco helps him forget - even if it's just for a little bit.

Genre: Romance, a little angst, a little drama

Author's Note: I wrote this story for NaNoWriMo back in November. After I went over my word count of 50,000, I set it aside and worked on some other things. The story isn't finished, but I'm still working on it and I'm a little over halfway done. I wanted to go ahead and post it to hopefully put pressure on myself to finish it. This has *not* been beta-ed. No way would I put my beta through such torture. I've read over it myself, but I know I missed a few things, so please excuse any typos and mistakes. I'm really bad at writing summaries, so don't judge the story by my description of it. It's better than it sounds. Honest. Oh, and one more thing I wanted to mention…I know Fred and George are two years, not just one year, older than Ron. I wanted to use them in my story, though, because they’re fun to write, and since it’s *my* story, I can do that. : )

Ron ran back to Gryffindor Tower faster than he ever had in his life. He had not just kissed Malfoy. No, it was a bad dream, something he would wake up from, and find that he was still snugly curled up in his own bed.

But as he approached the portrait hole, and found the Fat Lady waiting for him, he knew that it was not a dream, that he had kissed Malfoy, and what was even worse, he liked it.

“Boogadee,” he said. The Fat Lady’s portrait swung open and he stepped through it. Harry and Hermione were studying at a nearby table.

“How was detention?” Harry asked, looking up from the book opened in front of him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ron said hurriedly. His wake left the pages of their books fluttering in the breeze. He passed by them and headed up the stairs to the dormitories.

Malfoy was fucking with his mind. That was all it was. He only wanted to get a reaction from him. He got that alright, Ron thought as he smoothed down the erection that was stretching against his jeans. How could he ever allow Malfoy to affect him that way? He would have to scrub every skin cell off his lips before he felt clean again. He whipped his sheets up to his mouth and wiped vigorously. His lips tingled from the friction, almost like they had done when Malfoy kissed him. Malfoy’s lips had been so steady. No hesitation, just strong resolve.

His mind ran through the dungeon scene over and over again. Was there something he could’ve done to prevent the encounter? Should he have held his balance better? Should he have pushed himself up the instant he fell against Malfoy? Should he have pulled away the second Malfoy’s lips touched his?

The answer to all those questions was yes. Ron had complete control until Malfoy’s deviation took over. He should have been on guard, he should’ve been ready. But he wasn’t. His defenses had been down.

He threw a pillow over his face in an attempt to block out any more flashes of memory.

Footsteps thudded up the staircase outside. The door opened to emit a stream of yellow light, then closed again almost instantly. It was Harry. Ron could easily detect his approach. Ron opened his eyes, secured by the darkness, knowing that Harry couldn’t see him. He watched as Harry shed his clothing in favor for some threadbare pajamas. The thin cloth slid over his skin like a warm caress. The moonlight was a compliment to his brown complexion, casting him in a silver blue light that Ron had never witnessed before.

Why wasn’t Harry the one to kiss him? Why wasn’t it Harry who had laid beneath him, sweating with the dampness of arousal? Why wasn’t it Harry who had wanted him more than a simple breath on a balmy summer afternoon? Why didn’t Harry part the curtains to his bed and crawl between the covers with him?

When Harry disappeared between the curtains of his own bed, Ron sighed in rejection. Harry would never see him that way, he would never care for Ron the way Ron cared for him. He shouldn’t waste his strength in hoping for something he couldn’t obtain.

****

The kiss was not something that Draco had planned on. He’d only wanted to annoy Weasley, not arouse him. Weasley was really something when he was aroused, though, and Draco didn’t regret the residual effects. When his body had hit the cold stone floor and Weasley fell on top of him, he switched to auto-pilot.

Weasley’s face had been so close, and each of those countless, blurry freckles had mocked him. No one ever mocked Draco without paying the price. It was the moistened lips and the warm breath that had distracted him from his perfectly planned plot. He was resilient, though, and modified his ideas. Weasley was begging to be kissed. Apparently Potter wasn’t satisfying him. Draco wasn’t surprised. He didn’t think there was anything remotely rewarding about Potter. Draco had everything that the Weasel wanted, and inches to spare. It was just a matter of time before Weasley came knocking at his door like the beggar he was.

****

Ron joined Harry and Hermione for breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning. He was running late, and hardly had time for a bite of buttered toast. He had been up almost all night, replaying the events that had happened down in the dungeon.

Harry spoke first. He knew all too well about sleepless nights.

“You look awful. What happened?”

Ron didn’t want to talk about it, especially with Harry. “Nothing. It was the usual detention.” He chewed dryly at his toast.

“Did Malfoy do something to you?”

Ron choked. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

The Slytherins were several tables away, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. He didn’t want to see that smug, pompous look that he knew was resting on Malfoy’s face.

“Was it Snape then?”

“Snape wasn’t there.”

Harry shoved a spoonful of porridge into his mouth, but he didn’t take his eyes off Ron. He knew something was up. There was something Ron wasn’t telling him.

Hermione glanced at her watch. “It’s almost time for class. We should get going.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked out of the Great Hall. Harry picked up his own bag, but when he saw Ron still sitting at the table, he stopped.

“Are you coming?”

Ron paused his internal badgering. He looked up to see Harry’s concerned eyes on his.

“I’m right behind you,” Ron said, shoving the last bit of toast in his mouth.

Their first two classes of the morning whizzed by so fast that Ron could’ve sworn someone had pressed fast forward. Divination was always a chore, and having it first thing in the morning only made it that much worse. Charms wasn’t so bad, but Professor Flitwick was attempting to teach them much more difficult spells than in the past.

Any other day, Ron would’ve been grateful to get through those dreadful classes. The problem was, Malfoy was in their next class. He was the last person in the world Ron wanted to see. He wondered how Malfoy would react to him now, after the incident the previous night. He just hoped the infuriating git would leave him the hell alone. If Malfoy never spoke to him or acknowledged him again, Ron would consider his life fulfilled.

The fozzies, much like the blast-ended skrewts, fared better when left to themselves. This made their Care of Magical Creatures classes easy, as long as they could avoid any spitting fozzies. Hagrid let them keep the animals in their crates while they tossed leaves, plants, and the occasional twig down for them to eat.

Ron was standing with Harry and Hermione, peering cautiously down at the oversized caterpillar when he heard a voice that never failed to make him cringe.

“I was just telling Mother how well I’ve been doing in my classes this year. She’s very proud, of course, but she never expected anything less.”

Ron clinched his fists at his sides. It was even more irritating than usual. Instinctively, he would’ve loved to strangle Malfoy’s pale throat and crush that slow drawl. He had to rethink it, though, when he thought about what other deviant things Malfoy could do in such close proximity. Ron decided to keep his distance and just ignore the prick. There would be no reenactments of last night.

“You know, these things aren’t so bad, really,” Harry was saying. “They’re loads better than some of the other things Hagrid’s had us looking after.”

“They’re not bad,” Hermione agreed. “Just a little, well…boring.”

“I’ll take boring over highly dangerous and vicious any day.”

Ron chanced a look out of the corner of his eye and saw that, thankfully, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken a fozzy on the far side of the clearing. “Let him stay there,” he muttered.

“What?”

Ron hadn’t realized that he’d spoken out loud. “Nothing.”

Harry looked over in the direction Ron had been staring in. Malfoy was standing a safe distance away from his crate, with his arms crossed smugly over his chest. Harry knew that Ron hated Malfoy as much as it was possible to hate someone, but there was something strange about Ron’s behavior that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

It was nearing the end of the class, and Harry and Hermione had been busy feeding their fozzy. Ron had hardly contributed at all. Instead, he shifted his gaze between the large caterpillar at his feet, and a certain blonde-haired Slytherin on the far side of the paddock.

“Here,” Hermione said, thrusting some leaves in Ron’s hands, “keep feeding it, and I’ll go get some more.”

Ron sighed and kneeled next to the crate. He watched the fozzy closely, careful to keep his fingers at a safe distance from what appeared to be its mouth.

“I don’t think they bite,” Harry said, noticing Ron’s caution.

“I’m not taking any chances. How much do these things eat, anyway?”

“Thinking about eating some of that yourself, Weasley? They must not feed you well at home.”

Ron hadn’t noticed Malfoy standing behind him until he spoke. He stood up abruptly, his face red and his eyes narrowed.

“Sod off, Malfoy. I’m not in the mood.”

“After last night? I’m surprised.”

Ron’s scarlet face went suddenly white. He couldn’t believe Malfoy had the audacity to bring that up, and in front of Harry no less. He couldn’t think of a response that wouldn’t incriminate him. He stalked off up the grounds.

“What did you do to him, Malfoy?” Harry asked angrily.

“That’s between Weasley and myself,” Draco said pompously. There was no way he was sharing anything with Potter.

Harry didn’t see Ron again until that evening in the common room. He hadn’t shown up to any of their other classes and Harry was getting worried. He almost went to check on his friend before Hermione reminded him that he’d be late for Transfiguration.

****

When Harry and Hermione stepped through the portrait hole that evening after classes, Harry saw a large cluster of people, Ron among them, standing around the notice board.

“The Samhain Festival is next week!” Ginny excitedly informed Hermione. “They just posted it.”

Hermione looked as excited as Ginny. “Great! Let’s go think about our costumes.”

Harry shook his head after them. He didn’t find this festival thing in the least bit exciting. Ron seemed to share his feelings.

“Is Dumbledore out to kill us with all these dress things?” he asked.

“Seems like,” Harry said. “What happened to you today, anyway?”

“Oh, that. I just felt like coming up here and lying down for a bit.”

“What did Malfoy mean by ‘last night’?” Harry knew Ron was trying to avoid the real subject and he wasn’t going to let him.

“I have no idea,” Ron lied outright. There was no way he was telling Harry the truth.

“I know he did something to you, Ron. Just tell me what it is.”

“He didn’t do anything to me!” Ron snapped. “I wish you’d just drop it.”

He turned his back on Harry and joined Fred, George, Ginny, and Hermione in a vacant chair by the fireplace. He hadn’t meant to snap at Harry like that, but he was getting irritated at his persistence. Ron felt that if he ignored the whole incident, it would just disappear. He didn’t need Harry brining it up every chance he got.

Hermione and Ginny were flipping through catalogs. “I had Mum send me these for the festival. She said I could order any costume I wanted,” Ginny said.

“George and I already have ours,” Fred said. He was perched in his brother’s lap.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Ron said.

“Oh, look at the Cleopatra,” Hermione said, pointing to a picture. “That one’s nice. And the princess dress is really pretty.”

“I like the devil costume. The horns are really cute,” Ginny said.

“I think this whole thing is silly,” Harry said, walking up to the group. Even with Fred and George occupying the same chair, there were no empty seats close by, so he sat down on the arm of the one Ron was sitting in.

“Lighten up, would you?” Ginny said. “It’ll be fun. What are you going as?”

“I haven’t even thought about it.”

“What about you, Ron?” Hermione asked.

Ron was too distracted by Harry’s shoulder being so close to his own. The rise in body temperature had nothing to do with him being so close to the fire. Why did Harry have to sit so close? Why couldn’t he just stand up like anyone else would’ve done? Ron’s hormones had been fluctuating madly over the last couple of days, and sometimes he didn’t know how much more he could take. Between Harry and Malfoy, Ron wondered if he’d ever survive the school year.

Harry waved his hand in front of Ron’s face. “Are you still with us? Hermione asked you something.”

“Huh?”

“Who are you going to the festival as?”

“Not that bloody festival again! I’m going as myself. No shopping for ridiculous costumes that way.”

“I’m with Ron on this one,” Harry said. “Maybe I’ll go as a wizard or something.”

“Dumbledore says we have to dress up,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “Besides, it’ll be fun.”

“Don’t be such a Hufflepuff, Ron,” George said. “You can borrow one of ours. We’ve got several.”

“Why did you buy more than one costume?” Ron asked.

“We didn’t buy them, we already had them.”

Harry laughed at this, despite himself. It was still a little unsettling seeing the twins together that way, but he thought he had a pretty good idea what they did with the extra costumes.

Ron didn’t get it at first. His face wore a puzzled expression.

“It’s called a fetish,” Hermione said, trying to help him out.

“Dressing up…” Ron’s eyes widened. “Ugh!”