FEST EXCHANGE GIFT FOR RONS_PIGWIDGEON
TITLE: Satin: soft and vibrant
RECIPIENT: rons_pigwidgeon
AUTHOR: ;) it is a secret
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS (other than D/R): Draco/Severus
SUMMARY: Ron hasn't truly felt alive since the last battle, until he discovers a surprising secret lurking in the empty storerooms of the Ministry. Draco wants more than the convenience of his arrangement with Severus, but is powerless to pursue his true desire. Severus finds a solution for them all, one that will let them all live.
SPOILERS: None
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters portrayed here belong to me, and I am making no profit from this.
WARNING: AU from the Final Battle. Character death (past referenced, not current in fic). D/s. Voyeurism. Humiliation (private). Orgasm denial. Crossdressing. Rimming. Dub con themes (no actual dub con, but there is some coercion)
AUTHORS NOTES: I hope you like this. I tried to keep both Ron and Draco in character for a slight AU - Ron darker, haunted, tightly controlled, Draco at peace with his sexual preferences while retaining his public snark. Many thanks to my lovely beta reader, T. She's an angel.
Ron would always remember the first time he'd seen it. Seen them. Sometimes he thought it was burned into his retinas, given the way the image would come back to him, again and again, teasing him with glimpses of pale skin, hands twisted tight in long hair, mouth open and gasping for air.
He didn't even mean to see them, roaming around the Ministry after hours as he hunted down a wayward memo. He heard the noises coming from a storeroom in the Department of Magical Transportation, not exactly a place he'd considered a hotbed of vice. Still, it was an Auror's duty to investigate, and when he cautiously cast a few survellience charms on the storeroom, he nearly dropped his wand in surprise. He didn't expect to see anything approaching the desperate lewdness of the scene inside.
Draco Malfoy, Assistant Undersecretary to the Deputy Head of Magical Transportation, pinned against the wall in a little-used storeroom afterhours was surprising enough. Severus Snape, now a potions consultant, on his knees in front of him was even more so. The bit that had made Ron swallow hard, though, clutching his wand tightly again in his hand, was the flash of red at Draco's groin, where thin silk was stretched tight between his legs as the man on his knees mouthed at his balls through the material. Ron caught the flash of lace, black against smooth white skin, flat over the curve of Malfoy's arse. His cock was suddenly hard inside his briefs, pressing insistently against the material, and he wanted to stride into the storeroom and turn Malfoy around, rip open the delicate lace and silk and thrust his cock hard and carelessly into Malfoy's arse.
Stumbling backwards, Ron removed the charms. He breathed deeply, forgetting all about the memo, and headed down the stairs and towards the Floo connection, desperate to get home and get his hand into his own trousers. As it was, he hardly made it inside the door before he had his hand around his cock, stroking hard and fast and slick and tight, just like how he imagined Malfoy's arse would open for him, around him. He came hard, imagining the scratch of lace against his balls, the heat of Malfoy's arse clenching around him. He cast a quick cleansing charm and dropped onto his sofa breathlessly, letting his heart rate return to normal.
His mind whirled with images of creamy skin and crimson silk, harsh black lace as a contrast. Alongside that was a faint feeling of dirtiness, almost like he needed to scratch at his brain until the itch to see Malfoy naked again was gone. Malfoy had been nothing but arrogance and hatred at school, and Ron had still not excised the worst of it from his mind. While Ron was comfortable looking at his own darkness in the mirror most days, he didn't really want to think about how hot Malfoy had been, about how much he'd wanted to fuck him, hard and rough and desperate, up against the wall in that dingy storeroom. He wondered what Hermione would say, if she knew, or Harry, imagining their faces. Half snorting with laughter, he stopped that train of thought. There was never any point wondering what they would say, now that they were dead. Instead, he levered himself off the sofa and went to get changed.
He resolved not to look for Malfoy again. He didn't need the complication.
>>>>
He was back the next night, of course, and the next, wandering the corridors of the Ministry, searching for little-used offices and deserted storerooms. He finally found them, five nights of cold circuits and frustrated wanking later, shut into an archive room in a deserted corridor. This time he was prepared, and his wand remained steady as the charms revealed the scene in front of him. His gaze ran unflinchingly down the line of Malfoy's back, watching as his robes dropped to the floor. Leaning against the far wall, Snape observed Malfoy with hooded eyes. Malfoy slipped out of his trousers, letting them pool at his feet, and Ron could just see the bottom of something lacy peeking out under his shirt tails, pale green and startling against the deep grey of Malfoy's shirt. Then the shirt dropped too, and Ron caught his breath at the sight of tiny straps over pointed shoulderblades, satin hanging thin and pliant over Malfoy's arse. Cock hardening, he watched as Snape surveyed Malfoy, raking his eyes over him, face expressionless. Ron could only imagine how Malfoy might look from the front, whether his eyes were open and pleading or screwed shut and anticipatory. He was sure Malfoy's cock was hard, precome probably already darkening a patch on the front.
Malfoy turned, and Ron's breath caught. It was just as he'd thought, Malfoy's erection tenting the chemise, head leaking stickily onto the front. Then he looked at Malfoy's face, teeth white and sharp in his bottom lip, eyes downcast. Snape's arm slid around him, black robes stark against the pale satin, bony hand groping the bulge of Malfoy's cock. Watching Malfoy's face, pleasure just infiltrating the blankness, head tipped back on Snape's shoulder, Ron added another charm, letting him hear what was being said. Then he leaned back against the wall and waited, riveted.
"So pretty like this," said Snape, hand jerking Malfoy's cock in short, hard strokes that have to hurt, even as they drive Malfoy closer to the edge. Malfoy twisted just a little in Snape's arms, mouth opening in a gasp. "Get down on the floor. I'm going to fuck you," ordered Snape. Malfoy went, folding gracefully onto his hands and knees. His face was nearly expressionless, and Ron knew that if Malfoy was his, so creamy white and pale green, he would want to see his face twist and grimace, hear him sob and whimper, no matter how hard he tried to keep it inside. Ron would force it out.
Snape didn't bother undressing, just pulled his robes up and cast a quick charm, pushing almost carelessly into Malfoy's still body. Ron wanted him to fight, to squirm and wriggle and move. He'd make Malfoy move, make his body arch and writhe under and against his. Let him almost escape before overpowering him and breaking him to Ron's will. Snape pulled him upright, letting Malfoy sink onto his lap, pinching and twisting Malfoy's nipples through the lace edging on the bodice.
"You're thinking of him again, aren't you?" said Snape, voice dark, amused. "Aren't you? Imagining that he's got you?"
"Yes," mumbled Malfoy, and Ron's gut clenched. Malfoy was thinking of someone else?
"You've wanted him for years, haven't you? You've imagined him every way you can, imagined him taking you and using you and laughing as he does it." Snape thrust hard into Malfoy, pulling him down roughly into his lap. "Even when you were at school, all your jeers and superiority hid the fact that you wanted him to fuck you, isn't that right?"
"Yes," said Malfoy, eyes closed and face twisting just a little in humiliation.
"It burns, doesn't it? You don't care about your family pride, do you? Wanting a Weasley. What would Lucius say?" Snape bit hard on Malfoy's neck, but Ron barely heard Malfoy's moan over the last sentence, when it hit him. Snape must be talking about him. Malfoy wanted him. Snape looked up then, directly through the wall, as if he could see Ron there, see him hard and aching to take Malfoy and use him and break him into small, satiny pieces then put him back together just how he wanted him. "Do you want him, Draco? Do you want Ron Weasley?"
"Yes," said Malfoy, cheeks flushing red with either embarrasment or arousal, Ron wasn't sure which. He couldn't look away, watching as Snape pinched Malfoy's nipples cruelly, thrusting into him slow and steadily. "I want him to use me and take me."
"You hate it, but you still want it," said Snape, voice low and amused. "Don't you?"
"I hate it," panted Malfoy, wriggling on Snape's lap, obviously wanting more, wanting harder. Ron would give it to him. Ron knew he would give him everything, even things he didn't know he wanted. Especially things he didn't know he wanted. "I don't want to want him. I don't want to."
"On your knees, slut," ordered Severus, pushing him forward roughly and grasping Malfoy's hips. "You're not to come." Ron watched as he pounded into Malfoy, finally, just taking what he wanted. Arms braced, Malfoy surrendered to it. He was still so quiet, passive under Snape's hands, like he didn't care. Ron wanted him to care, wanted him to ache and suffer, wanted it all out on his face where he couldn't hide it. Wanted to watch that sneering, distainsful mask slip, see mindless lust take over. He wanted it to be for him.
Snape's face twisted, eyes still gazing through the wall. Ron watched his hands grip tighter on Malfoy's hips, watched him shudder and come inside him. He pulled out roughly, grasping a handful of Malfoy's hair and hauling him up onto his knees. The green chemise was nearly transparent, Malfoy's cock showing dark through it. Whimpering, Malfoy balled his hands on his thighs, waiting with that still, closed expression.
"You don't get to come tonight," said Snape. "Get dressed and leave. No cleansing charm. I want you to walk out of here with my come dripping down your legs." He straightened his robes as he spoke, casting a charm on himself. He watched as Malfoy slowly slid his clothes back on, finishing with his robe. Ron was so hard inside his trousers that he ached, watching crisp cotton and heavy suiting covering up the shiny soft satin, the hardness of his cock confined behind layers.
Ron knew he should leave now, removing the charms and striding down the hall as briskly as possible, given the state he was in. He levered himself away from the wall, walking even more difficult than he'd anticipated, and waved his wand to get rid of the charms. He made it down to the foyer, mind a wild jumble of Malfoy on his knees in green satin and the revelation that it was Ron he thought of and wanted when he was down there. Barely making it into his flat, Ron shoved a hand down his trousers, dragging his cock through his hastily opened fly and stroking with quick, impatient jerks. He could see Malfoy's lips, tracing the shape of yes, yes, yes, and imagined having one hand in his hair, the other clutching Malfoy's hip through cool, smooth satin, the string of words spilling out of him as Ron pounded into him mercilessly.
>>>>
One of the best things about Auror training was what it did for your self-control. Ron had to admit, though, that his grasp on that had probably started to improve the day Harry dropped like a stone in the heat of the final battle, taking a chunk of his ability to care with it, while the rest bled out along with Hermione, in his arms, in the final minutes of the same battle. Ron had also sacrificed his ability to be surprised, so Severus Snape's presence on his sofa after a long day didn't raise his eyebrow. Besides, the hole in the wards had been subtle, but not unnoticeable.
Ron smiled and wandered into the kitchen, coming back a few moments later with a bottle of beer, robes discarded to display his shoulder holster and the long lines of his body, both a reminder that Snape would not find it easy to overpower him, if that was what he'd come for. Slouching into a chair by the window, Ron waited patiently for Snape to talk.
"I daresay it's not a surprise to you that I'm here, Weasley," he said, voice as soft and intense as it had been when he was still Ron's teacher.
"I should have known that a reformed Death Eater would notice the charms," agreed Ron. "Perhaps I should have gone with something more esoteric, since I'm sure you are familiar with Auror standard issue."
"Exactly," agreed Snape. "It was careless, and makes me wonder if perhaps turning Draco over to you is not the wisest of actions."
Ron arched an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that there was a question of you turning Malfoy over to me."
"You want him," stated Snape calmly. "I could see it in your face."
Ron couldn't decide if honesty would serve him best, at this point. Snape had always been an enigma, and Ron wondered how much of his performance with Malfoy was just that: performance. He thought back to the cold, almost clinical, domination Snape had shown. "Yeah," he said, "of course I want him." Honesty was easier. He wondered where Snape would go with this. Snape looked at him, long and carefully, face assessing. Ron kept his smooth mask in place, superficially pleasant, poised for action underneath. Watching Snape watch him, thinking about the possibilities. Was he going to be warned off? Was Snape suggesting they share?
"He's wanted you since he was fourteen. Since before he even figured out why, and what made him the way he is," said Snape, voice matter-of-fact, almost bland. He paused for a long moment. "I did some research."
"Really?" said Ron, keeping the trace of sarcasm from his voice and infusing it only with calm interest.
"It seems you keep your... tendencies quiet, but a few people who know say you're good at what you do. Good to who you do it with. Hard. A little cruel. Never sadistic." Snape arched an eyebrow, more emotion than Ron had seen from the man since he'd left his classroom and the sneers and hissed insults behind. "I'm surprised. I would have thought sadistic would have been a short step to take after holding both your friends as they died."
Ron was far to well-trained to respond, merely shrugging. The slow burn of anger stayed low in his belly, face remaining calm and politely interested. "Is that what happened to you?" he inquired, instead. "Or was there some other reason you became a Death Eater?"
Snape ignored off the jibe. "He'll take some time to get used to it," Snape said. "So I suggest that you let me organise the first encounter."
Ron bared his teeth in the most honest smile he'd allowed himself all night, all teeth and no amusement. "Are you a pimp now, Snape? I'll organise it myself. You bring Malfoy."
Snape nodded slowly, a pleased look flickering over his face, as if something in Ron's response was perfect. Just what he'd been looking for. "Tomorrow?" Snape asked.
Ron shook his head decisively. "Friday. Here. 8pm." He let his smile turn a little feral. "I'm sure I can trust you to get him here."
"That won't be a problem," said Snape. "We'll be here."
>>>>
Draco turned the box around, admiring the silver ribbon that stretched over the white cardboard, slowly easing the knots free. He'd scanned the box for all signs of magic, of course, and it seemed clean, leaving him to enjoy the pleasure of unwrapping something. He loved to open things up. Taking the pretty things apart and digging through crinkly tissue in search of treasures. He didn't bother being embarassed anymore. He's a man, and he knows it, and isn't ashamed to use his soft white skin to get what he wants any more than he's ashamed of using his sarcastic tongue to flay his colleagues when they're stupid.
He was usually the one who did this. Bought himself gorgeous flimsy nothings in rose pink and softest cream, had them delivered in smooth wrapping paper with extravagant ribbons. The sales assistants thought he was an extremely attentive lover, blushing as Draco ran his fingers over the silk or satin and made his choice. Severus would occasionally send something, wrapped in plain brown, functional, as an apology or a warning; Draco was never sure. He had no idea if Severus even knew his limits. This was new, the box, as lovingly wrapped as anything Draco had ever sent himself.
Draco eased the lid off the box. Red tissue paper, folded crisp and neat and layered with rose petals, ready for him to open up and explore. He started at the top corner, peeling back the first layer of paper, then the second, opening up like flowers to the sun. The paper was soft under his fingers, barely crinkling under his gentle touch. Eventually, he pulled back the last layer and stared at the exposed garment. Dark grey silk, heavy and slick, a thin ruffle of fine black lace around the neckline. Draco stroked his finger over it reverently.
Reaching into the box, Draco grasped the corners of the lingerie and lifted it up, shaking out the soft folds. The camisole hung limply from his fingers, little pintucks down the front mimicking the boning of a corset, and Draco was enchanted. Severus's taste had always been distressingly plebian before tonight, but this - this was perfect. He draped it carefully back in the box, running his finger over the edge of the matching knickers, already imagining how they will feel stretched tight over his arse.
A card poked out from under the knickers and Draco pulled it out. Wear these tomorrow night is all it says, generic etching into heavy cardboard. Draco looked again at the lingerie, so pretty against the stark red paper, thinking about how it's going to feel on his skin. The phantom of Severus's bony hands intruded into his fantasy and he jerked backwards, focussing instead on the grey silk still draped over the box. His lip twisted, incipient erection fading as he thought of how convenient Severus was. Draco didn't want convenient. He wanted something messy and loud and demanding, something that would pull everything out of him and pick through it before putting him back together. He wanted Ron Weasley, even if he was never going to have him.
>>>>
Ron had no idea how Severus planned to get Draco to his flat. That wasn't his problem. All he had to do was make sure, once they were there, that Malfoy was on his knees or on his back, submitting to him in delicious agony. Ron paced, thinking of the preparations he'd made, thinking of the things he wanted to do. One night would not be enough. His mind drifted back to Snape's visit. Perhaps turning Draco over to you echoed in his brain, ringing there in Snape's matter-of-fact voice.
Delusions were for those who hadn't lost most of what kept them sane and together, thought Ron, as counter-intuitive as it sounded. When your grounding had been cut away so drastically, you had to face reality unflinchingly. He hadn't bothered lying to himself for more than a few minutes about the flare of possessive warmth that flooded through him when he thought about Malfoy being his to keep.
Snape didn't bother knocking, merely pushing Malfoy through the door with one hand before pushing it closed and leaning against it, crossing his arms over his chest. Ron spared him the smallest of glances before turning his attention to Malfoy, who was standing where he'd been pushed and was looking at Ron in thunderstruck amazement. His gaze travelled down Ron's body, taking in the tight fit of his black t-shirt and jeans, his bare feet against the polished floor. Ron watched his face change from blank incredulity, through a brief flicker of hunger and a flash of uncertainty, before stopping on that superior sneer he'd worn for years at school. Ron knew what hid underneath it, now, and he was going to get that hunger back on his face.
"How nice to see you, Malfoy," said Ron. "I'm sure you can guess why you're here."
"Is this some kind of joke?" sneered Malfoy, the tension in his shoulders obvious to Ron. "Severus, what-" Ron cut him off.
"Don't bother looking to Snape. He's not the one who's going to be fucking your arse in that tight silk. I am."
"You're insane," snapped Malfoy. Ron smiled, letting the slow, implacable confidence roll through him, knowing it showed on his face.
"Not insane. I know you want me. And I want you. I want you on your knees, hard and aching for me. I want you on your back, blissed out and gasping. I want you on your belly, taking my cock." Ron didn't miss the way Malfoy licked his lips, body instinctively opening a little. "You're wearing the underwear I bought for you, aren't you?" Ron saw the moment when Malfoy made the connection, watching the instinctive squirm of his body as he realised that Ron's fingers had probably touched the silk encasing him.
"Yes," said Malfoy, uncertainly, and Ron felt a little trickle of relief run through him. Once Malfoy had agreed with him the first time, it would be easier to get him to agree to other things. Having Malfoy submit was suddenly the most important thing in the world, and Ron felt himself falling into a space where all that mattered was Malfoy and what he needed. He'd never felt anything like it before, but turned himself over to it without hesitation.
"Show me," coaxed Ron, staying on the other side of the room, fingers digging into his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest. Malfoy looked at him for a long moment, clearly undecided. "I want to see it, Malfoy. I picked it out specially, imagining it on your skin. I want to buy more for you."
As if that little hint of a future decided him, Malfoy's fingers reached for the top of his robes, Ron watching them with hungry eyes. The robes parted and slipped down his body. Drawing in a deep breath, Ron gazed at Malfoy. He hadn't been wearing a shirt or trousers under the robes, just the underwear. The dark grey was a beautiful contrast to his pale skin, cut to drape close to his body. The knickers stretched over his cock, already half hard. Ron licked his lips. He flickered the barest glance up at Snape, still leaning against the door, obviously not intending to participate.
"You're beautiful," said Ron, hoarsely. Malfoy's fingers clenched by his sides as he obviously fought the urge to cover himself up. "Next time, though, I'll buy you something blue, like the sky."
"Next time?" echoed Malfoy, fingers still twitching. The look he turned on Ron was doubtful, obviously unsure of what Ron wanted here. Ron's voice was uncharacteristically soft when he answered.
"Yes, next time. Now, come over here." Malfoy came, still a little hesitant, but with an edge of excitement and curiousity peeking through. Ron was determined to extract every bit of it, wanting the intensity he knew must be in Malfoy somewhere. He wanted to feel alive, wanted Malfoy alive in his arms. Ron drew Malfoy close, running his hands down his arms, across his back. "You can touch me," said Ron. "I want you to."
Malfoy's first touch was tentative, like he couldn't really believe it was real. He traced his fingers over Ron's jaw and trailed them down his throat. Both hands wrapped around Ron's biceps, slipping up just a little under his t-shirt. "Kiss me?" he asked, voice so soft Ron wasn't sure he'd heard correctly the first time. Then he looked down at Malfoy, the high flush across his cheekbones and the uncertain cast to his mouth, and realised that he'd never seen Snape kiss Malfoy. He glanced over to the other man, still leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest, no expression on his face. Ron suddenly burned brighter with the desire to give Malfoy everything he needed. Everything he'd never been given before.
"We can do whatever you want," said Ron, cupping Malfoy's jaw in one big hand and tilting it upwards. The kiss was long and slow, not tentative in the slightest, and the slick slide of Malfoy's tongue in his mouth made his cock ache in his jeans. He pulled back, looking down into Malfoy's flushed face. "What else would you like to do?"
Malfoy swallowed hard, looking into Ron's face, as if searching for something. "There will be a next time?" he asked again.
"Whatever you want," said Ron. "I want to give you what you need."
"I want you to give me what I need," said Malfoy. "I want you to call me by my name. I want you to fuck me." Ron swept him back into another kiss, one hand still on his jaw, the other splayed tight across the small of his back. He pulled back, finally, licking his lips, and let go.
"I can do that," he said. "Draco." He stepped back, pulling his wand and levitating a mirror behind Draco's back. "Turn around," he said. Draco obeyed, eyes widening as he saw the mirror. Striding forward, Ron looped one arm across Draco's chest, pulling him firmly back against him. The other slid round him, rubbing roughly over Draco's cock, still trapped inside his knickers. Draco tipped his head back on Ron's shoulder, eyes fixed on their image in the mirror. Ron could see the tension in him, could feel him shifting restlessly against him. He looked nothing like the passive man Ron had watched through the wall with Snape, and his breath caught in triumph.
Ron dropped to his knees behind Draco, nuzzling into the crack of his arse through the slick material. "On your knees," he said. Draco complied, lifting his arse in the air and offering it up to Ron. When Ron dropped his head and licked, Draco moaned softly and pressed back into him. "Good," praised Ron. "I want to hear you enjoy this." Then he lowered his head again, licking and probing through the soft knickers. He listened to Draco's breath hitch, felt him tremble under him, and pulled the material out of the way, getting his tongue onto already spit-slick skin.
Ron rimmed Draco steadily, drinking in the soft whimpers and gasps, the way he pushed back into the sensation. He was making Draco feel like this, making him lose himself in the pleasure. It was heady. He pulled back and reached for his wand. "I'm going to fuck you," he said.
"Please," said Draco, looking shaky and a little desperate. "I want you to."
"I know. I'm going to give you what you need." The charm left his fingers covered in lube and Ron slid one in immediately. Draco bucked against him and Ron quickly followed it with another finger, scissoring them and stretching Draco open for him. Draco's face was flushed, mouth open and gasping for breath. This was just what Ron wanted. He was so open, so there, so alive and it was perfect. Ron smoothed the last of the lubricant onto his hastily freed cock and pulled the grey knickers down, just to the bottom of Draco's arse.
Pushing in was heaven. Even better was the way Draco squirmed back against him, actively welcoming the intrusion. Ron was sure that another time he'd be able to make Draco squirm to get away, make him fight and twist and try to escape, but this blissful pleasure was more than enough for tonight. Pressing inside, Ron didn't stop until his balls rested against the curve of Draco's arse and the rucked up line of silk.
"You can come when I do," said Ron, tenderly drawing his fingers down Draco's spine. Then he moved, and Draco flexed beneath him, and he was lost in the sweet slickness of Draco's body, the breathy moans and pleas, the way the back of the camisole darkened with Draco's sweat as he pushed back into each thrust. Ron fucked him gently, wanting to make it good for Draco. He slid one hand around and fisted Draco's cock softly. Feeling his balls tightening as he neared the edge, Ron let his hand tighten on Draco's cock. Draco's moan's increased in volume and he tossed his head back, meeting Ron's eyes in the mirror. That was enough.
"Come now," groaned Ron, shuddering his way through his orgasm, feeling it curling over his skin and ripping through every nerve. Draco undulated under him, clenching and fluttering around him, and Ron felt that too, sizzling over what was left of his nervous system. He bowed over Draco, murmuring brokenly into his back, lips against dark silk, barely hearing Draco's high, sharp wail as his come spilled over Ron's hand.
Hands shaking, Ron pulled free and turned Draco over, letting him sprawl on the floor and bracing himself over him on arms that barely held up. He pressed light, urgent kisses to Draco's lips, groaning softly as gentle hands ran through his hair.
"That was amazing," Draco whispered, between kisses. "I've never...." He fell silent, tugging Ron closer for a longer kiss.
"I want to do it all over again," replied Ron.
"Whatever you want," said Draco. Ron didn't believe it was true. He knew that Malfoy - pissy, arrogant, condescending - was still in there, and that tomorrow he would have to deal with him. He knew that no matter how sweet Draco's surrender tonight, he would have to fight for it again and again. He knew he was up to the challenge. Kissing Draco again, he knew Draco was worth the effort. He could feel the fresh buzz of being alive singing through his body in a way it hadn't for long years. Looking up, Ron focussed his gaze on the door. Snape had straightened up from his position against the door, his face approving. He gave Ron a nod and slipped out the door. Ron nuzzled his face into Draco's neck, and thought only of the future.
RECIPIENT: rons_pigwidgeon
AUTHOR: ;) it is a secret
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS (other than D/R): Draco/Severus
SUMMARY: Ron hasn't truly felt alive since the last battle, until he discovers a surprising secret lurking in the empty storerooms of the Ministry. Draco wants more than the convenience of his arrangement with Severus, but is powerless to pursue his true desire. Severus finds a solution for them all, one that will let them all live.
SPOILERS: None
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters portrayed here belong to me, and I am making no profit from this.
WARNING: AU from the Final Battle. Character death (past referenced, not current in fic). D/s. Voyeurism. Humiliation (private). Orgasm denial. Crossdressing. Rimming. Dub con themes (no actual dub con, but there is some coercion)
AUTHORS NOTES: I hope you like this. I tried to keep both Ron and Draco in character for a slight AU - Ron darker, haunted, tightly controlled, Draco at peace with his sexual preferences while retaining his public snark. Many thanks to my lovely beta reader, T. She's an angel.
Ron would always remember the first time he'd seen it. Seen them. Sometimes he thought it was burned into his retinas, given the way the image would come back to him, again and again, teasing him with glimpses of pale skin, hands twisted tight in long hair, mouth open and gasping for air.
He didn't even mean to see them, roaming around the Ministry after hours as he hunted down a wayward memo. He heard the noises coming from a storeroom in the Department of Magical Transportation, not exactly a place he'd considered a hotbed of vice. Still, it was an Auror's duty to investigate, and when he cautiously cast a few survellience charms on the storeroom, he nearly dropped his wand in surprise. He didn't expect to see anything approaching the desperate lewdness of the scene inside.
Draco Malfoy, Assistant Undersecretary to the Deputy Head of Magical Transportation, pinned against the wall in a little-used storeroom afterhours was surprising enough. Severus Snape, now a potions consultant, on his knees in front of him was even more so. The bit that had made Ron swallow hard, though, clutching his wand tightly again in his hand, was the flash of red at Draco's groin, where thin silk was stretched tight between his legs as the man on his knees mouthed at his balls through the material. Ron caught the flash of lace, black against smooth white skin, flat over the curve of Malfoy's arse. His cock was suddenly hard inside his briefs, pressing insistently against the material, and he wanted to stride into the storeroom and turn Malfoy around, rip open the delicate lace and silk and thrust his cock hard and carelessly into Malfoy's arse.
Stumbling backwards, Ron removed the charms. He breathed deeply, forgetting all about the memo, and headed down the stairs and towards the Floo connection, desperate to get home and get his hand into his own trousers. As it was, he hardly made it inside the door before he had his hand around his cock, stroking hard and fast and slick and tight, just like how he imagined Malfoy's arse would open for him, around him. He came hard, imagining the scratch of lace against his balls, the heat of Malfoy's arse clenching around him. He cast a quick cleansing charm and dropped onto his sofa breathlessly, letting his heart rate return to normal.
His mind whirled with images of creamy skin and crimson silk, harsh black lace as a contrast. Alongside that was a faint feeling of dirtiness, almost like he needed to scratch at his brain until the itch to see Malfoy naked again was gone. Malfoy had been nothing but arrogance and hatred at school, and Ron had still not excised the worst of it from his mind. While Ron was comfortable looking at his own darkness in the mirror most days, he didn't really want to think about how hot Malfoy had been, about how much he'd wanted to fuck him, hard and rough and desperate, up against the wall in that dingy storeroom. He wondered what Hermione would say, if she knew, or Harry, imagining their faces. Half snorting with laughter, he stopped that train of thought. There was never any point wondering what they would say, now that they were dead. Instead, he levered himself off the sofa and went to get changed.
He resolved not to look for Malfoy again. He didn't need the complication.
>>>>
He was back the next night, of course, and the next, wandering the corridors of the Ministry, searching for little-used offices and deserted storerooms. He finally found them, five nights of cold circuits and frustrated wanking later, shut into an archive room in a deserted corridor. This time he was prepared, and his wand remained steady as the charms revealed the scene in front of him. His gaze ran unflinchingly down the line of Malfoy's back, watching as his robes dropped to the floor. Leaning against the far wall, Snape observed Malfoy with hooded eyes. Malfoy slipped out of his trousers, letting them pool at his feet, and Ron could just see the bottom of something lacy peeking out under his shirt tails, pale green and startling against the deep grey of Malfoy's shirt. Then the shirt dropped too, and Ron caught his breath at the sight of tiny straps over pointed shoulderblades, satin hanging thin and pliant over Malfoy's arse. Cock hardening, he watched as Snape surveyed Malfoy, raking his eyes over him, face expressionless. Ron could only imagine how Malfoy might look from the front, whether his eyes were open and pleading or screwed shut and anticipatory. He was sure Malfoy's cock was hard, precome probably already darkening a patch on the front.
Malfoy turned, and Ron's breath caught. It was just as he'd thought, Malfoy's erection tenting the chemise, head leaking stickily onto the front. Then he looked at Malfoy's face, teeth white and sharp in his bottom lip, eyes downcast. Snape's arm slid around him, black robes stark against the pale satin, bony hand groping the bulge of Malfoy's cock. Watching Malfoy's face, pleasure just infiltrating the blankness, head tipped back on Snape's shoulder, Ron added another charm, letting him hear what was being said. Then he leaned back against the wall and waited, riveted.
"So pretty like this," said Snape, hand jerking Malfoy's cock in short, hard strokes that have to hurt, even as they drive Malfoy closer to the edge. Malfoy twisted just a little in Snape's arms, mouth opening in a gasp. "Get down on the floor. I'm going to fuck you," ordered Snape. Malfoy went, folding gracefully onto his hands and knees. His face was nearly expressionless, and Ron knew that if Malfoy was his, so creamy white and pale green, he would want to see his face twist and grimace, hear him sob and whimper, no matter how hard he tried to keep it inside. Ron would force it out.
Snape didn't bother undressing, just pulled his robes up and cast a quick charm, pushing almost carelessly into Malfoy's still body. Ron wanted him to fight, to squirm and wriggle and move. He'd make Malfoy move, make his body arch and writhe under and against his. Let him almost escape before overpowering him and breaking him to Ron's will. Snape pulled him upright, letting Malfoy sink onto his lap, pinching and twisting Malfoy's nipples through the lace edging on the bodice.
"You're thinking of him again, aren't you?" said Snape, voice dark, amused. "Aren't you? Imagining that he's got you?"
"Yes," mumbled Malfoy, and Ron's gut clenched. Malfoy was thinking of someone else?
"You've wanted him for years, haven't you? You've imagined him every way you can, imagined him taking you and using you and laughing as he does it." Snape thrust hard into Malfoy, pulling him down roughly into his lap. "Even when you were at school, all your jeers and superiority hid the fact that you wanted him to fuck you, isn't that right?"
"Yes," said Malfoy, eyes closed and face twisting just a little in humiliation.
"It burns, doesn't it? You don't care about your family pride, do you? Wanting a Weasley. What would Lucius say?" Snape bit hard on Malfoy's neck, but Ron barely heard Malfoy's moan over the last sentence, when it hit him. Snape must be talking about him. Malfoy wanted him. Snape looked up then, directly through the wall, as if he could see Ron there, see him hard and aching to take Malfoy and use him and break him into small, satiny pieces then put him back together just how he wanted him. "Do you want him, Draco? Do you want Ron Weasley?"
"Yes," said Malfoy, cheeks flushing red with either embarrasment or arousal, Ron wasn't sure which. He couldn't look away, watching as Snape pinched Malfoy's nipples cruelly, thrusting into him slow and steadily. "I want him to use me and take me."
"You hate it, but you still want it," said Snape, voice low and amused. "Don't you?"
"I hate it," panted Malfoy, wriggling on Snape's lap, obviously wanting more, wanting harder. Ron would give it to him. Ron knew he would give him everything, even things he didn't know he wanted. Especially things he didn't know he wanted. "I don't want to want him. I don't want to."
"On your knees, slut," ordered Severus, pushing him forward roughly and grasping Malfoy's hips. "You're not to come." Ron watched as he pounded into Malfoy, finally, just taking what he wanted. Arms braced, Malfoy surrendered to it. He was still so quiet, passive under Snape's hands, like he didn't care. Ron wanted him to care, wanted him to ache and suffer, wanted it all out on his face where he couldn't hide it. Wanted to watch that sneering, distainsful mask slip, see mindless lust take over. He wanted it to be for him.
Snape's face twisted, eyes still gazing through the wall. Ron watched his hands grip tighter on Malfoy's hips, watched him shudder and come inside him. He pulled out roughly, grasping a handful of Malfoy's hair and hauling him up onto his knees. The green chemise was nearly transparent, Malfoy's cock showing dark through it. Whimpering, Malfoy balled his hands on his thighs, waiting with that still, closed expression.
"You don't get to come tonight," said Snape. "Get dressed and leave. No cleansing charm. I want you to walk out of here with my come dripping down your legs." He straightened his robes as he spoke, casting a charm on himself. He watched as Malfoy slowly slid his clothes back on, finishing with his robe. Ron was so hard inside his trousers that he ached, watching crisp cotton and heavy suiting covering up the shiny soft satin, the hardness of his cock confined behind layers.
Ron knew he should leave now, removing the charms and striding down the hall as briskly as possible, given the state he was in. He levered himself away from the wall, walking even more difficult than he'd anticipated, and waved his wand to get rid of the charms. He made it down to the foyer, mind a wild jumble of Malfoy on his knees in green satin and the revelation that it was Ron he thought of and wanted when he was down there. Barely making it into his flat, Ron shoved a hand down his trousers, dragging his cock through his hastily opened fly and stroking with quick, impatient jerks. He could see Malfoy's lips, tracing the shape of yes, yes, yes, and imagined having one hand in his hair, the other clutching Malfoy's hip through cool, smooth satin, the string of words spilling out of him as Ron pounded into him mercilessly.
>>>>
One of the best things about Auror training was what it did for your self-control. Ron had to admit, though, that his grasp on that had probably started to improve the day Harry dropped like a stone in the heat of the final battle, taking a chunk of his ability to care with it, while the rest bled out along with Hermione, in his arms, in the final minutes of the same battle. Ron had also sacrificed his ability to be surprised, so Severus Snape's presence on his sofa after a long day didn't raise his eyebrow. Besides, the hole in the wards had been subtle, but not unnoticeable.
Ron smiled and wandered into the kitchen, coming back a few moments later with a bottle of beer, robes discarded to display his shoulder holster and the long lines of his body, both a reminder that Snape would not find it easy to overpower him, if that was what he'd come for. Slouching into a chair by the window, Ron waited patiently for Snape to talk.
"I daresay it's not a surprise to you that I'm here, Weasley," he said, voice as soft and intense as it had been when he was still Ron's teacher.
"I should have known that a reformed Death Eater would notice the charms," agreed Ron. "Perhaps I should have gone with something more esoteric, since I'm sure you are familiar with Auror standard issue."
"Exactly," agreed Snape. "It was careless, and makes me wonder if perhaps turning Draco over to you is not the wisest of actions."
Ron arched an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that there was a question of you turning Malfoy over to me."
"You want him," stated Snape calmly. "I could see it in your face."
Ron couldn't decide if honesty would serve him best, at this point. Snape had always been an enigma, and Ron wondered how much of his performance with Malfoy was just that: performance. He thought back to the cold, almost clinical, domination Snape had shown. "Yeah," he said, "of course I want him." Honesty was easier. He wondered where Snape would go with this. Snape looked at him, long and carefully, face assessing. Ron kept his smooth mask in place, superficially pleasant, poised for action underneath. Watching Snape watch him, thinking about the possibilities. Was he going to be warned off? Was Snape suggesting they share?
"He's wanted you since he was fourteen. Since before he even figured out why, and what made him the way he is," said Snape, voice matter-of-fact, almost bland. He paused for a long moment. "I did some research."
"Really?" said Ron, keeping the trace of sarcasm from his voice and infusing it only with calm interest.
"It seems you keep your... tendencies quiet, but a few people who know say you're good at what you do. Good to who you do it with. Hard. A little cruel. Never sadistic." Snape arched an eyebrow, more emotion than Ron had seen from the man since he'd left his classroom and the sneers and hissed insults behind. "I'm surprised. I would have thought sadistic would have been a short step to take after holding both your friends as they died."
Ron was far to well-trained to respond, merely shrugging. The slow burn of anger stayed low in his belly, face remaining calm and politely interested. "Is that what happened to you?" he inquired, instead. "Or was there some other reason you became a Death Eater?"
Snape ignored off the jibe. "He'll take some time to get used to it," Snape said. "So I suggest that you let me organise the first encounter."
Ron bared his teeth in the most honest smile he'd allowed himself all night, all teeth and no amusement. "Are you a pimp now, Snape? I'll organise it myself. You bring Malfoy."
Snape nodded slowly, a pleased look flickering over his face, as if something in Ron's response was perfect. Just what he'd been looking for. "Tomorrow?" Snape asked.
Ron shook his head decisively. "Friday. Here. 8pm." He let his smile turn a little feral. "I'm sure I can trust you to get him here."
"That won't be a problem," said Snape. "We'll be here."
>>>>
Draco turned the box around, admiring the silver ribbon that stretched over the white cardboard, slowly easing the knots free. He'd scanned the box for all signs of magic, of course, and it seemed clean, leaving him to enjoy the pleasure of unwrapping something. He loved to open things up. Taking the pretty things apart and digging through crinkly tissue in search of treasures. He didn't bother being embarassed anymore. He's a man, and he knows it, and isn't ashamed to use his soft white skin to get what he wants any more than he's ashamed of using his sarcastic tongue to flay his colleagues when they're stupid.
He was usually the one who did this. Bought himself gorgeous flimsy nothings in rose pink and softest cream, had them delivered in smooth wrapping paper with extravagant ribbons. The sales assistants thought he was an extremely attentive lover, blushing as Draco ran his fingers over the silk or satin and made his choice. Severus would occasionally send something, wrapped in plain brown, functional, as an apology or a warning; Draco was never sure. He had no idea if Severus even knew his limits. This was new, the box, as lovingly wrapped as anything Draco had ever sent himself.
Draco eased the lid off the box. Red tissue paper, folded crisp and neat and layered with rose petals, ready for him to open up and explore. He started at the top corner, peeling back the first layer of paper, then the second, opening up like flowers to the sun. The paper was soft under his fingers, barely crinkling under his gentle touch. Eventually, he pulled back the last layer and stared at the exposed garment. Dark grey silk, heavy and slick, a thin ruffle of fine black lace around the neckline. Draco stroked his finger over it reverently.
Reaching into the box, Draco grasped the corners of the lingerie and lifted it up, shaking out the soft folds. The camisole hung limply from his fingers, little pintucks down the front mimicking the boning of a corset, and Draco was enchanted. Severus's taste had always been distressingly plebian before tonight, but this - this was perfect. He draped it carefully back in the box, running his finger over the edge of the matching knickers, already imagining how they will feel stretched tight over his arse.
A card poked out from under the knickers and Draco pulled it out. Wear these tomorrow night is all it says, generic etching into heavy cardboard. Draco looked again at the lingerie, so pretty against the stark red paper, thinking about how it's going to feel on his skin. The phantom of Severus's bony hands intruded into his fantasy and he jerked backwards, focussing instead on the grey silk still draped over the box. His lip twisted, incipient erection fading as he thought of how convenient Severus was. Draco didn't want convenient. He wanted something messy and loud and demanding, something that would pull everything out of him and pick through it before putting him back together. He wanted Ron Weasley, even if he was never going to have him.
>>>>
Ron had no idea how Severus planned to get Draco to his flat. That wasn't his problem. All he had to do was make sure, once they were there, that Malfoy was on his knees or on his back, submitting to him in delicious agony. Ron paced, thinking of the preparations he'd made, thinking of the things he wanted to do. One night would not be enough. His mind drifted back to Snape's visit. Perhaps turning Draco over to you echoed in his brain, ringing there in Snape's matter-of-fact voice.
Delusions were for those who hadn't lost most of what kept them sane and together, thought Ron, as counter-intuitive as it sounded. When your grounding had been cut away so drastically, you had to face reality unflinchingly. He hadn't bothered lying to himself for more than a few minutes about the flare of possessive warmth that flooded through him when he thought about Malfoy being his to keep.
Snape didn't bother knocking, merely pushing Malfoy through the door with one hand before pushing it closed and leaning against it, crossing his arms over his chest. Ron spared him the smallest of glances before turning his attention to Malfoy, who was standing where he'd been pushed and was looking at Ron in thunderstruck amazement. His gaze travelled down Ron's body, taking in the tight fit of his black t-shirt and jeans, his bare feet against the polished floor. Ron watched his face change from blank incredulity, through a brief flicker of hunger and a flash of uncertainty, before stopping on that superior sneer he'd worn for years at school. Ron knew what hid underneath it, now, and he was going to get that hunger back on his face.
"How nice to see you, Malfoy," said Ron. "I'm sure you can guess why you're here."
"Is this some kind of joke?" sneered Malfoy, the tension in his shoulders obvious to Ron. "Severus, what-" Ron cut him off.
"Don't bother looking to Snape. He's not the one who's going to be fucking your arse in that tight silk. I am."
"You're insane," snapped Malfoy. Ron smiled, letting the slow, implacable confidence roll through him, knowing it showed on his face.
"Not insane. I know you want me. And I want you. I want you on your knees, hard and aching for me. I want you on your back, blissed out and gasping. I want you on your belly, taking my cock." Ron didn't miss the way Malfoy licked his lips, body instinctively opening a little. "You're wearing the underwear I bought for you, aren't you?" Ron saw the moment when Malfoy made the connection, watching the instinctive squirm of his body as he realised that Ron's fingers had probably touched the silk encasing him.
"Yes," said Malfoy, uncertainly, and Ron felt a little trickle of relief run through him. Once Malfoy had agreed with him the first time, it would be easier to get him to agree to other things. Having Malfoy submit was suddenly the most important thing in the world, and Ron felt himself falling into a space where all that mattered was Malfoy and what he needed. He'd never felt anything like it before, but turned himself over to it without hesitation.
"Show me," coaxed Ron, staying on the other side of the room, fingers digging into his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest. Malfoy looked at him for a long moment, clearly undecided. "I want to see it, Malfoy. I picked it out specially, imagining it on your skin. I want to buy more for you."
As if that little hint of a future decided him, Malfoy's fingers reached for the top of his robes, Ron watching them with hungry eyes. The robes parted and slipped down his body. Drawing in a deep breath, Ron gazed at Malfoy. He hadn't been wearing a shirt or trousers under the robes, just the underwear. The dark grey was a beautiful contrast to his pale skin, cut to drape close to his body. The knickers stretched over his cock, already half hard. Ron licked his lips. He flickered the barest glance up at Snape, still leaning against the door, obviously not intending to participate.
"You're beautiful," said Ron, hoarsely. Malfoy's fingers clenched by his sides as he obviously fought the urge to cover himself up. "Next time, though, I'll buy you something blue, like the sky."
"Next time?" echoed Malfoy, fingers still twitching. The look he turned on Ron was doubtful, obviously unsure of what Ron wanted here. Ron's voice was uncharacteristically soft when he answered.
"Yes, next time. Now, come over here." Malfoy came, still a little hesitant, but with an edge of excitement and curiousity peeking through. Ron was determined to extract every bit of it, wanting the intensity he knew must be in Malfoy somewhere. He wanted to feel alive, wanted Malfoy alive in his arms. Ron drew Malfoy close, running his hands down his arms, across his back. "You can touch me," said Ron. "I want you to."
Malfoy's first touch was tentative, like he couldn't really believe it was real. He traced his fingers over Ron's jaw and trailed them down his throat. Both hands wrapped around Ron's biceps, slipping up just a little under his t-shirt. "Kiss me?" he asked, voice so soft Ron wasn't sure he'd heard correctly the first time. Then he looked down at Malfoy, the high flush across his cheekbones and the uncertain cast to his mouth, and realised that he'd never seen Snape kiss Malfoy. He glanced over to the other man, still leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest, no expression on his face. Ron suddenly burned brighter with the desire to give Malfoy everything he needed. Everything he'd never been given before.
"We can do whatever you want," said Ron, cupping Malfoy's jaw in one big hand and tilting it upwards. The kiss was long and slow, not tentative in the slightest, and the slick slide of Malfoy's tongue in his mouth made his cock ache in his jeans. He pulled back, looking down into Malfoy's flushed face. "What else would you like to do?"
Malfoy swallowed hard, looking into Ron's face, as if searching for something. "There will be a next time?" he asked again.
"Whatever you want," said Ron. "I want to give you what you need."
"I want you to give me what I need," said Malfoy. "I want you to call me by my name. I want you to fuck me." Ron swept him back into another kiss, one hand still on his jaw, the other splayed tight across the small of his back. He pulled back, finally, licking his lips, and let go.
"I can do that," he said. "Draco." He stepped back, pulling his wand and levitating a mirror behind Draco's back. "Turn around," he said. Draco obeyed, eyes widening as he saw the mirror. Striding forward, Ron looped one arm across Draco's chest, pulling him firmly back against him. The other slid round him, rubbing roughly over Draco's cock, still trapped inside his knickers. Draco tipped his head back on Ron's shoulder, eyes fixed on their image in the mirror. Ron could see the tension in him, could feel him shifting restlessly against him. He looked nothing like the passive man Ron had watched through the wall with Snape, and his breath caught in triumph.
Ron dropped to his knees behind Draco, nuzzling into the crack of his arse through the slick material. "On your knees," he said. Draco complied, lifting his arse in the air and offering it up to Ron. When Ron dropped his head and licked, Draco moaned softly and pressed back into him. "Good," praised Ron. "I want to hear you enjoy this." Then he lowered his head again, licking and probing through the soft knickers. He listened to Draco's breath hitch, felt him tremble under him, and pulled the material out of the way, getting his tongue onto already spit-slick skin.
Ron rimmed Draco steadily, drinking in the soft whimpers and gasps, the way he pushed back into the sensation. He was making Draco feel like this, making him lose himself in the pleasure. It was heady. He pulled back and reached for his wand. "I'm going to fuck you," he said.
"Please," said Draco, looking shaky and a little desperate. "I want you to."
"I know. I'm going to give you what you need." The charm left his fingers covered in lube and Ron slid one in immediately. Draco bucked against him and Ron quickly followed it with another finger, scissoring them and stretching Draco open for him. Draco's face was flushed, mouth open and gasping for breath. This was just what Ron wanted. He was so open, so there, so alive and it was perfect. Ron smoothed the last of the lubricant onto his hastily freed cock and pulled the grey knickers down, just to the bottom of Draco's arse.
Pushing in was heaven. Even better was the way Draco squirmed back against him, actively welcoming the intrusion. Ron was sure that another time he'd be able to make Draco squirm to get away, make him fight and twist and try to escape, but this blissful pleasure was more than enough for tonight. Pressing inside, Ron didn't stop until his balls rested against the curve of Draco's arse and the rucked up line of silk.
"You can come when I do," said Ron, tenderly drawing his fingers down Draco's spine. Then he moved, and Draco flexed beneath him, and he was lost in the sweet slickness of Draco's body, the breathy moans and pleas, the way the back of the camisole darkened with Draco's sweat as he pushed back into each thrust. Ron fucked him gently, wanting to make it good for Draco. He slid one hand around and fisted Draco's cock softly. Feeling his balls tightening as he neared the edge, Ron let his hand tighten on Draco's cock. Draco's moan's increased in volume and he tossed his head back, meeting Ron's eyes in the mirror. That was enough.
"Come now," groaned Ron, shuddering his way through his orgasm, feeling it curling over his skin and ripping through every nerve. Draco undulated under him, clenching and fluttering around him, and Ron felt that too, sizzling over what was left of his nervous system. He bowed over Draco, murmuring brokenly into his back, lips against dark silk, barely hearing Draco's high, sharp wail as his come spilled over Ron's hand.
Hands shaking, Ron pulled free and turned Draco over, letting him sprawl on the floor and bracing himself over him on arms that barely held up. He pressed light, urgent kisses to Draco's lips, groaning softly as gentle hands ran through his hair.
"That was amazing," Draco whispered, between kisses. "I've never...." He fell silent, tugging Ron closer for a longer kiss.
"I want to do it all over again," replied Ron.
"Whatever you want," said Draco. Ron didn't believe it was true. He knew that Malfoy - pissy, arrogant, condescending - was still in there, and that tomorrow he would have to deal with him. He knew that no matter how sweet Draco's surrender tonight, he would have to fight for it again and again. He knew he was up to the challenge. Kissing Draco again, he knew Draco was worth the effort. He could feel the fresh buzz of being alive singing through his body in a way it hadn't for long years. Looking up, Ron focussed his gaze on the door. Snape had straightened up from his position against the door, his face approving. He gave Ron a nod and slipped out the door. Ron nuzzled his face into Draco's neck, and thought only of the future.