Title: Not Necessarily Wanting Me

Author: Lorien_Eve

Website: http://www.geocities.com/simpleadorationtwo/

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.

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.

Ron had gone to the library everyday for a week. There were no notes, though he flipped through the entire book twice, and even turned it upside down, fanning the pages. He was getting frustrated. Malfoy would send him knowing looks over the tables in the Great Hall, would sometimes be brave and stupid enough to throw glances over his shoulder during Potions, and there were always the cutting, quick-witted remarks. But there were no notes.

The last time Ron was with Malfoy, it had been more unbelievable than the first two, and Malfoy had even said that it was far from over. The lack of correspondence still worried Ron. Perhaps it was all a joke after all, and Malfoy was drawing him in just far enough for him to become addicted, then taking everything away. Ron had difficulty sleeping, because after feeling what Malfoy had made him feel, it was never the same when he did it to himself.

Then there was Harry. Ron wondered if Harry kept the curtains to his four-poster parted on purpose. There was just a small slit next to the headboard, but even in the darkened dorm room, Ron could see Harry's face, half bathed in moonlight and half washed in shadow. He would look at Harry while he wanked, and though this helped Ron get off, it wasn't the same, physically, without Malfoy.

Ron suddenly realized something that made his mouth go dry and his stomach drop to his toes. His every waking second, and oftentimes his dreams, were filled with two…boys. No girls, just boys. When had he started liking boys? When had he started noticing them instead of girls? That answer was easy. Harry. Everything came back to Harry. Over the summer he hadn’t been completely comfortable about it, but now that they were at school and he and Harry were together so often, he had grown to accept the fact that he was in love with his best friend. That was a big step, and he wasn’t quite sure when he took it, but now, he could easily admit to himself that what he felt for Harry went way beyond friendship.

But Malfoy? Though Ron didn’t totally hate Malfoy anymore, he most certainly didn’t like him. But he noticed, on more occasions than he cared to count, that Malfoy was very attractive, and Ron was very attracted to him. Ron thought back to his crush on Fleur, and that made him feel a little better. But then he remembered that she was a Veela. She was the last girl he’d paid any attention to, and that had been two years ago.

Ron had never questioned his sexuality before, but now, he wasn’t quite so sure about it…

****

The day of the first Hogsmeade trip came. Ron had hoped desperately to get a note from Malfoy. Though it would've been difficult to devise an excuse for why he was staying behind, Ron thought this would've been the perfect opportunity for them to meet, since most of the school would be empty. But still, there were no notes.

Ron stared at Malfoy through breakfast that morning, hoping to receive a silent invitation. But Malfoy seemed very busy laughing with Blaise and rolling his eyes at Crabbe and Goyle. He didn't look at Ron once.

Harry noticed Ron's detached manner. He didn't want to mention it at first, since his questions usually led to small arguments. Hermione noticed it, too, though, and when she gave Harry a telling look over her porridge, Harry decided to ask.

"You okay, Ron?"

Ron didn't answer at first, and Harry sighed, looking down into his own porridge. Then Ron turned to him.

"Did you say something?"

"I asked if you were okay."

"I'm fine," said Ron, his gaze returning to the Slytherin table.

"You seem…distracted," said Hermione, coming to Harry's aid.

"It's Pansy's newest hairstyle," he said, hoping the lie didn't show on his face. "Looks like she got a hold of one of my dad's plugs." In truth, Ron hadn't even seen Pansy that morning, but she was first female Slytherin that came to mind, and he hoped that would explain why he'd been staring over at the opposing table all morning.

Hermione bit her lip, and Harry shrugged at her. Pansy was certainly not Ron's preoccupation. She hadn't come down to breakfast yet.

****

After breakfast, the students who were old enough to go to Hogsmeade queued up behind the front doors of the school. Filch and McGonagall stood at the head of each line, reading out names and checking them off a list. While McGonagall was her usually austere self, Filch was even nastier than normal. He was furious that the students were allowed to go to Hogsmeade, where he knew they sought out the raunchiest, messiest candies and the most horrendously volatile jokes. He spent late nights, once the floors had been mopped for the fifth time that day, writing appeals and pleas to Dumbledore to ban the visits. It all amounted to nothing, of course, when Dumbledore maintained that it was beneficial to not only the students, but also the teachers who deserved an afternoon away from the children.

Harry was about to suggest that he and Ron ask Fred and George to recommend some of the finer items at Zonko's, but Ron had walked a few steps ahead, apparently scanning the crowd of students.

This was Ron's last chance to find Malfoy. He still had time to back out of the trip if a better, more promising offer came along. But Malfoy was shorter than most of the students, even the girls, and though Ron was tall, he was having trouble finding him in the sea of heads.

There was shuffling and movement at the front of the opposite line, accompanied by some murmured protests.

"Get out of the way, or get hit," grumbled a cold voice, barely audible over the rest of the noise in the entryway.

Ron recognized the voice immediately. He craned his head and raised himself on his toes, catching a shock of blonde hair and a sharp profile. Though now he had located Malfoy, he was much too far away for Ron's proposed 'accidental encounter.' He sighed and stepped back into his own line, joining Harry and Hermione.

****

The weather was fair, with a pleasant temperature even though the sun was mostly hidden behind an expanse of gray clouds. Harry, Ron, and Hermione passed by the lake and through the wrought-iron gates, down the graveled road to Hogsmeade. Ron walked a few paces ahead, with his hands shoved in his pockets, kicking loose pebbles. Harry quickened his steps to catch up with him.

"Your choice, Ron. Where do you want to go first?"

"Doesn't matter, really," said Ron, watching a small piece of gravel bounce down the road in front of him. Harry dropped back, and when he faded from Ron's peripheral vision, Ron looked up to see where he had gone.

Harry was staring straight at him, with a look of hurt and confusion. Ron stopped and allowed Harry to catch up again. Hermione watched at a close distance, knowing that if Ron were going to talk to anyone about what was bothering him, it would be Harry.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Ron, looking earnestly at his friend. "How about Honeydukes? We'll go there first, okay?"

Harry smiled. "Sounds good." He looked over his shoulder at Hermione and nodded his head, inviting her to walk with them.

****

Hogsmeade was even more crowded than usual, filled not only with students from third year and above, but also with families, and other witches and wizards a few years older than Harry.

Honeydukes was arguably the most popular shop in the all-wizarding village, and seeing the masses of people crowded in it today was no surprise. Ron paused to look at a jar of Pepper Imps.

"I can't decide if I want these or some Ice Mice."

"You get those and I'll get the Ice Mice, then we can trade up," said Harry.

"Good thinking, mate," said Ron, helping himself to some Pepper Imps. "When my tongue starts to burn off, throw me an Ice Mice."

Hermione decided on something more practical, adding Toothflossing Stringments to her Licorice Wands, just in case.

Before making their purchases, Ron stopped to look at a display of Acid Pops. "What d'you think?" he asked Harry.

Harry shook his head. "Not unless you plan on tricking Fred and George into eating them."

With their pockets full of sweets, they left the crowded candy store and stepped out into the busy street.

"Zonko's?" suggested Harry.

"Definitely."

The joke shop was just a few buildings down, but before they could reach it, Seamus stopped them.

"Have you seen Dean?" he asked, slightly out of breath.

"No," said Ron, "but we've been at Honeydukes the whole time. Did you lose him?"

"I tried to get him to go to Madam Puddifoot's with me, but he ran off, screaming. Wait…I think I see him. Dean!" With that, Seamus ran off again.

"Is that place really as sappy as people say it is?" Ron asked Harry.

Harry winced, remembering the afternoon he had spent there with Cho. "Yeah, it is."

****

Zonko's was hardly less crowded than Honeydukes, though there were more students and less adults.

"My Dungbomb supply needs replenishing," said Ron, stepping to a large barrel in the middle of the store. "Filch needs some extra chores, I think."

Hermione wasn't the least bit impressed by the assortment of jokes and tricks. "I need a new quill," she said, "so while you two are here wasting your time and money, I'm going to Scrivenshafts. I'll meet you later at the Three Broomsticks."

"See ya," said Harry and Ron together.

Ron enjoyed Hermione's company, but he was glad to have a few hours alone with Harry. They hadn't been spending as much time together lately, and though Ron knew it was his fault, he really missed Harry.

"Oi, Harry, over here," said Ron, gesturing to a display of Ill Quills, regular-looking quills that secreted a thick, black ink on the users' fingers. "These would be great for Hermione, don't you think?"

Harry couldn't help laughing, but he quickly reminded Ron that Hermione could be even more vicious that Filch.

Harry and Ron browsed the store for the newest inventions with which they could torture Filch, laughing at the various possibilities, and plotting ways to blame it on Peeves. Ron forgot all about Malfoy. He was happy being with Harry, being close to him, laughing and joking like they used to. Watching Harry as he picked strange objects off the shelves, wrinkling his nose in curiosity and sometimes disgust, made that yearning for his best friend rise in him again, stronger than usual. When Ron found himself staring and stumbling over his words, he suggested that they make their purchases and meet Hermione in The Three Broomsticks. Really, it was just an excuse for him to get out in the cooler, open air and catch his breath.

Harry bought one of nearly everything in the store, and Ron bought two. This was the first time he had been to Hogsmeade with his expanded spending account, and he was making the most of it. They made a quick stop in the post office, not for any particular reason, then followed the narrow road down to The Three Broomsticks.

Hermione was already there, sitting in a corner table, talking with Justin Finch-Fletchley. She looked up when she heard the bell ringing above the door, and she motioned them over. Justin gave a slight scowl when Harry and Ron sat down and Hermione's full attention was focused on them.

"We're still on for that date in the library, right?" he asked.

"Of course. Tomorrow afternoon. See you then," she said curtly.

"Got a date, do you?" asked Ron, smirking, as Justin left their table.

"Not a real date," said Hermione. "He just needs a little help in Charms, is all."

Harry looked at Ron and rolled his eyes.

"Don't think I didn't see that," said Hermione, giving them a severe look.

"Butterbeers? I'm buying," said Ron, getting up from the table.

"Yeah, thanks."

"What did you say to him?" asked Hermione, once Ron was out of earshot. "He seems loads better."

"Nothing," answered Harry. "He just…changed."

"Well, whatever it was, let's hope it keeps up."

"Yeah, he's much better this way. I don't like it when something's bothering and I can't help." Harry smiled at Hermione.

"I know," she said, reaching over the table and pressing Harry's hand.

The look on Hermione's face made Harry a little uncomfortable, so when Ron showed up with three mugs of butterbeer, Harry was relieved.

"So, did you get that quill you wanted?" Ron asked Hermione as he presented her with a mug.

"Oh, yes! It's perfect." She reached under the table for a bag, and pulling out a long, narrow box, she opened it to show them her black pheasant quill.

"Ron wanted to get you a quill, too," said Harry, trying to hide a smile behind his mug.

Ron kicked him under the table. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

Hermione's eyes shifted between them before they finally landed on Ron. Her look was very suspicious. "What were you up to this time?"

"Nothing, honest," Ron said, though his smirk betrayed him.

Ron felt better than he had in weeks, smiling and laughing, and even Hermione joined in, acting much less mature than usual. Their conversations were silly and childish. Not once was Voldemort mentioned, nor any of the professors, nor the loads of homework that were waiting for them in the common room. Harry and Ron spread the contents of their pockets on the table for Hermione to admire, and shared with her their plans for tormenting Filch and pinning the acts on Peeves. She came up with a few of her own that were even better than what they had thought of.

There was a thin film of white foam on Harry's upper lip, and Ron fought the urge to remove it with his own lips until Hermione informed Harry of his moustache. Ron wanted to reach for Harry's hand under the table. With a little bravery and a few more butterbeers, he might do just that.

Hermione pointed to a group of hideous goblins with black eyes and grotesquely long noses, and Harry and Ron wondered if they were still on the hunt for Ludo Bagman. Over at the bar was a pair of hags that Harry said could’ve passed for goblins. Ron noted that they more closely resembled Snape.

After their third butterbeer, which wasn't enough for Ron to find his courage, Hermione cast a glance out of the paned windows.

"It'll be getting dark soon. We'd better be going back," she said.

Ron didn't feel like leaving, not yet, but Harry emptied his mug and stood up.

"Ready, Ron?"

"Uh, sure," said Ron, taking one last drink.

Indeed, the sky was turning a pale purple, and shadows that had once been long and dark were fading into the approaching twilight. The streets had thinned out, though there was still a generous amount of students lingering about, reluctant to return to the stone confines of the school.

“I wonder if Seamus ever found Dean?” asked Ron as they neared the gates of Hogsmeade.

“If Dean was smart, he ran far away. And fast,” said Harry. “No one should be forced to spend an afternoon at Madam Puddifoots.”

“Aw, come on, Harry, it can’t be that-” Ron stopped mid-sentence. There was a huddle of Slytherins ahead of them, and right in the middle, the back of his head only visible between swaying shoulders, was Draco Malfoy.

Ron had successfully put Malfoy out of his mind all afternoon. Harry had stolen his complete attention and held it, and all Ron had thought about was how wonderful Harry was, how strong their friendship was, and how amazing their relationship could be. Harry meant the world to him, but with one glint of silver hair in the failing afternoon light, that world caved in around him. Malfoy was a reminder that Ron couldn’t have Harry, that he’d never be able to have him the way he wanted. Malfoy reminded him of the biggest, stupidest mistake he had ever made. Malfoy also reminded him of cold hands, warm lips, hot touches, and sweating bodies.

“Ron?” asked Harry, looking up at his friend and placing a hand on his arm.

Ron stared with his lips barely open before speaking again. “Huh?”

Harry recognized the change instantly. Ron had reverted back to his old temperament, quiet and distant. Despite how he might try to hide it, it was written clearly on his face.

Harry could see the Slytherins up ahead, and although he couldn’t see Malfoy, he had his suspicions. Ron’s mood swings always seemed to come and go with Malfoy’s presence.

The walk back to the castle was quiet, though the passing groups of students around them chattered noisily. Ron hung back several paces, kicking at the gravel as best he could in the dim light. Harry and Hermione walked closely together, whispering things, though Hermione was the one who talked more, while Harry mostly stayed silent, thinking.

Instead of joining the rest of the Gryffindors in the common room, Ron complained of a stomachache and climbed the stairs to the boys’ dorm. Hermione opened her Charms book so that she could make an outline of the current chapter for her study session with Justin the next day. Harry was too distracted to study or to even socialize with the others. He sat in an armchair near the fire, feeling uninformed and frustrated.

****

Draco had purposely not contacted Ron. As much as he enjoyed fucking Weasley, he enjoyed fucking with his mind even more. He was sure the Gryffindor git was getting nervous and frustrated, and Draco wanted to keep him that way. Draco would search for distractions, in the Great Hall or in class or even in the hallways, so that Weasley would think he had other, much more important things on his mind. Which he did. Inventing licentious plans. Draco must’ve gotten his creativity from his mother. Lucius would’ve never been clever enough to come up with such brilliant concepts. A lack of correspondence, Draco hoped, would ensure that Weasley wouldn’t refuse his next offer. And with what he had in mind, Draco couldn’t risk a refusal.

This self-imposed celibacy had its drawbacks, though. Draco often lay in bed at night, though sometimes he would sit in the common room, and create scenarios which would make Weasley forget that a Boy-Who-Lived ever lived. He would get an inevitable hard on, and finish out his fantasy by getting himself off. Out of desperation, Draco had even made eyes at Blaise a time or two before coming to his senses and realizing that, being the irresistible pureblood that he was, Blaise would fall hard for him. Draco already got death threats. He didn’t want a stalker, too.