Harry sighed. "I was really looking forward to visiting with Hagrid."

"Yeah, well, Charlie offered to let him help out with the dragons for the summer, and Hagrid would find a way to break a petrifaction spell to get to a Romanian Horntail."

"Truer words were never spoken."

They ate quietly for a few moments, Ron's eyes darting around the echoing hall as he chewed. Finally he said, "It's spooky."

Nearly Headless Nick popped up through the table, just before Harry and Ron. "Of course it is, young Weasley. We'd hardly be doing our job if it wasn't, would we?"

"I don't think that's what he means, Nick," said Harry. "He means that it just doesn't seem right for this place to be so empty and quiet, without at least a hundred students mucking about and making noise."

"Oh. Quite right. Carry on." Nick disappeared.

Ron glanced over toward the Slytherin side of the room. There was a half-dozen Slytherins sitting together at the end of their table. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were completely empty. "You would know that the only others staying over would be Slytherins."

Harry helped himself to pudding. "I think it's that their families are going abroad, and weren't too keen on having the younger members along. Draco's the oldest left, and he's seriously brassed off about it."

"That's one of Malfoy's native states, isn't it? I'm a bit surprised he's here, though. I don't remember them ever leaving him behind before, and he was nattering on about going to Monte-Carlo. He bragged he was going to get into the casino and find a way to wizard the roulette wheel, then wouldn't it be a lark to break the bank, since Muggle money is no use to him except to wipe his arse. Smug git."

"Yeah. He might not have any use for it, but flaunting the ability to waste something others need so badly is just foul." Harry glanced over at Malfoy again, and frowned. "He's looking pleased with himself, and he ought to pout at least three or four days over being exiled here for the holidays. I wonder what he's up to?"

"Who cares? Without Crabbe and Goyle about, we ought to be able to handle him. So, what do we have planned for our first night? Raid the restricted books section of the library? Try to sneak into one of the other common rooms? Search Hagrid's cottage and see if he actually has recipes for those horrors he cooks?"

"I don't know about you, but I plan on crawling into bed right after supper and sleeping either until I finally wake up, or someone comes looking for me because they think I'm dead."

"Harry!"

"I'm serious, Ron. I've hardly slept the last week because I was studying to all hours for my Potions final. Hermione was my tutor, and you know what a slave driver she is." He stretched. "Add to that all the extra training for Quidditch since there was a rumor that a scout from the Chudley Cannons was going to be at the final match. I'm knackered."

Ron sighed heavily. "Bollocks."

"Are you sure you'd want to go roaming about? Filch isn't going anywhere, and he'd love to catch us somewhere we shouldn't be."

"Don't I know it. Maybe he'll ease up a bit on the patrolling, though. After all, fewer students--fewer chances someone will be up to something."

"Don't bet on it. He lives to get us in trouble."

Over at the Slytherin table, Pansy Parkinson leaned toward Draco. "They're talking about us."

Draco spared a glance at the two Gryffindors. "Of course they are." He smirked. "We're the only things worth talking about in their dreary lives."

Pansy returned the smirk. "This should be a highlight in their year. After all, the Weasley hovel must be like a rabbit warren, and Potter lives with Muggles. I feel sorry for the prat." Draco looked at her sharply, and she hastily added, "Almost. Do you suppose we ought to ask them over to eat with us tomorrow?" Draco stared at her, his gray gaze as chilly as his father's ever was. "I mean, it would throw them off guard."

"Careful, Pansy. Don't go soft hearted on dregs like Weasley and Potter. Like to like, and they're not our kind, dear." He glanced over at the two heads, one rust-red and the other messy-dark, so close together. "Not our kind at all."

Harry was as good as his word. By nine-thirty he was snoring softly, only the very top of his head peeking out from under the sheet. Ron felt at loose ends. He knew that if he tried to go to bed he'd just end up staring at the ceiling, since he wasn't the least bit sleepy. He considered building a house with Exploding Snap cards, but he couldn't risk having the house collapse and wake Harry up with the resulting bang. Harry had given Ron permission to listen to his wireless any time he liked, but that was out for the same reason as the card house. Ron finally decided he might as well pack away his school things.

He dumped piles of parchment and quills into his open trunk, muttering, "Won't need you lot till September." Then he thought about how his mother would react if he didn't write at least once a week, and grudgingly removed some of them. Next came the text books. These would be passed down to Ginny next year, and he wished her luck of them. He was tempted to just thump them in, but torn pages would bring the wrath of Mum down on his head, so he laid each one in the trunk carefully, counting as a whisper. When he reached eight, he paused, frowning. *That's not right, is it? I should have nine. Better check.*

He counted them again, and again, feeling dismay grow. He lined them up, checking them carefully. *What's missing? What have I lost? We still have George and Fred's stuff at home, so we should have an extra with no problem, as long as it isn't...* It wasn't there. *Oh, please don't let it be my 'From Abyssinian Figs to Wormwood--Magic and Non-Magic Plants of the World'. Not that, anything but that! Maybe I left it in the common room.*

Ron scoured the tower, even searching the other dorms in case (he told himself) one of the other students had accidentally carried it to their room. Finally he ended up sitting before the dying fire in the common room, his head in his hands. *I'm done for. That's the only book that we had to buy new, since Sprout decided to change the texts for fourth years. I have to find it, or a howler from Mum will be the least of my worries. Where did I last have it? Think, Weasley, think!*

His head shot up. *The greenhouse! Some of us brought the book to our final, and Sprout had us put them on the counter at the back. I'm sure that I never got mine when I left. It must still be there. I can get it tomorrow.* He chewed his lip. *Who am I joking? I won't have a prayer of sleeping if I don't go get it now.*

He got up and went to push the painting open, peering into the hall to be sure that neither Filch nor Mrs. Norris were lurking nearby. Ron cast his eyes upward. *Just once. Just once let me get away with something like Fred and George.*

It was just before ten when Draco Malfoy made his way toward the greenhouse. It was a moonless night, and the stars weren't bright enough for Draco to worry about being seen. The candle clutched in the Hand of Glory provided a sickly, but adequate, illumination--one that no one but Draco would see. *Still, when I leave, I'll go back the round-about way. Boldness is one thing, but foolish risk is another.*

Draco held the Hand of Glory closer to the greenhouse door, studying the lock. It was a mid-level padlock from Barr Magical Security. *Huh. I suppose they think it's safe enough, since they won't teach even the seniors an opening spell stronger than what they'd need to unlock a bathroom door.* He drew his wand from his sleeve and tapped the lock, whispering, "Effringo claustrum." The lock popped open. *Luckily Malfoys are not bound by what they think we should know.*

Draco slipped inside and went directly to the cabinets at the back. *Middle cabinet, lower section.* Draco repeated the unlocking spell, and opened the cabinet. Sure enough there was a heavy canvas bag, not much bigger than a bludger. It was the only one, but Draco still checked it carefully. *Sprout. SL. Right.* He laid down his wand and used his free hand to pull a dragon skin glove from his belt, then paused. *Fuck. How am I going to do this?*

The problem was that the Hand of Glory only worked if he was actually holding it. If it left his grasp, the light became visible to everyone. He couldn't have that--not with these glass walls. Then there was the bag to consider. The damn cord around the neck looked knotted. *Damn it, Sprout. I know you're not the most simpering little maiden on campus, but couldn't you have tied a fucking bow? Eh, I'll worry about that in a bit. First, the glove.*

After a moment's thought he gripped the fingers of the glove between his teeth and wiggled his fingers up inside. Once he had them seated he reversed his hand, bit the edge, and tugged it the rest of the way on. When he was done he spat disgustedly. They claimed in Magical Beasts that dragons had once been considered a food source (before they became endangered), but Draco doubted it.

While he was picking at the cord he realized that he might have opened the sack before putting on the glove. *So now I have a choice of taking it off, opening the sodding bag, and putting it back on, or just taking forever picking this damn thing open wearing a glove. Damn. Why didn't I...?*

The greenhouse door opened, and Draco whirled, heart thundering before he remembered that he would be effectively invisible to anyone who didn't walk right up to him. *But why would anyone be here if they hadn't seen me on the way out? If it's Snape--no problem, but I hope it isn't Filch. Maybe they won't come close enough to notice me.* He watched as a dim figure slipped in. *Oh, I do not fucking believe this.* Draco went absolutely still. Any noise might give him away.

Ron had been surprised to find the greenhouse lock open, but he wasn't about to question his luck. He'd tripped twice making his way to the greenhouse, and it was even darker inside than it had been out. He knew where he was going, though, and was pretty sure of how to get there. He bumped into the first table and swore softly, then gripped the edge and began to shuffle along its length. *I just have to cross the few feet between the tables, make my way down the second one, and then the counter should be close by.*

Draco watched the other boy as he slowly made his way across the room. It was odd. Ron was obviously as good as blind. Draco could see that his eyes were stretched wide open, as if that would somehow make things clearer. *Idiot. What on earth is Weasley doing here at this time of night? Whatever it is, he could ruin this. I just have to hope that he doesn't get too close.*

The hope faded as Ron kept coming. *I could run past him--he'd never know who it was.* He glanced at the bag. He almost had the knot undone. Draco gritted his teeth. *I am not giving up that easily.* He resumed working, as quietly as possible.

Ron heard a rustling, and paused, but only for a second. After all, in a building that held bouncing bulbs and leaping toadstools, a few random noises were to be expected. He kept moving, sure that his goal had to be near. He reached the end of the table, then held on to it with one hand, groping blindly for the counter. He couldn't find it. Taking a breath, he let go of the table and took a step, feeling around more impatiently. Another step. He swung his arms angrily, and one slammed into something--something alive.

Ron yelled. His first instinct was to run, but his arm got tangled in some sort of cloth, and he stumbled, falling against whatever it was. He grabbed, and suddenly he was surrounded by a nimbus of pale yellow light, and was staring into the pale, angry face of Draco Malfoy. He blinked in astonishment, scarcely noticing the sudden pattering sound.

"Now look what you've done!" Draco hissed. He tried to pull his arm free of Ron. "Let go of me, you clot!"

"Watch it!" Ron snapped. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business. It isn't as if you wouldn't be in dutch for being here, too, Weasley." Ron's indignation waned slightly. Draco was right about that. Even though his reasons were innocent, the rules were that students were not to roam at night. Draco saw that he realized this and said, "Look, I don't care why you're here. If this gets out, you know that Snape will start deducting house points now. How would you like to be the one who lost Gryffindor a hundred points before the school year started? No? Then we'll just pretend we never saw each other, shall we?" Ron nodded grudgingly. "Right. Now, help me pick up these bloody seeds. It'll take forever if I have to do it on my own."

"Why should I help you clean up your mess?"

"Because there wouldn't have been a mess if you hadn't been doing your impression of a windmill." Ron scowled, and Draco said, "So help me, if I get caught because I'm hanging about here too long, I'll not only tell Snape you were here, too, but I'll tell him it was you who put that Muggle concoction in his hot chocolate. What was it called--Ex-lax?"

Ron gasped. "That wasn't me! That was George and Fred!" He winced as he realized what he'd said.

"That's what I thought, but they're not here any more, and Snape wouldn't have any problems with punishing one Weasley for another's misdeeds, and you know it."

"All right," said Ron sullenly.

"Keep one hand on me," instructed Draco. "Otherwise it'll be like the bottom of a coal pit in here. Here's the bag. Luckily they haven't scattered much. Get them all."

"Shut up, Malfoy." Ron began picking up the seeds, one at a time, and dropping them back into the open, half-full sack. "What are these, anyway?"

"Seeds."

"I can see that. I'm not stupid, you know." Malfoy paused, looking up at him with a small smile. Ron flushed. "I'm not the one trying to pick up seeds wearing a glove."

Draco watched Ron as he continued to gather seeds. There didn't seem to be any ill effect. Surely if the things were dangerous, there would have been a skull and crossbones on the bag. He held his hand out to Ron. "Pull it off."

"Do it y'self."

"I can't let go of the Hand, or we lose our light. Do it, or I'll have to use my teeth, like I did when I put it on."

"And you expect me to touch something you've had in your mouth?"

"Weasley, we'll be here all night!"

"Oh, all right!" Ron jerked the glove off Draco's hand, then stuffed it in the blond boy's belt. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic. Hurry up." Draco waited till he was sure that Ron was busy, then quickly slipped three seeds into his pocket before resuming his task.

They worked in silence, and all of Hogwarts would have been amazed to see a Slytherin and a Gryffindor working with such co-operation. When they were down to the last few seeds, Ron said, "Malfoy, what is this? I'm starting to feel warm."

"It's summer, and this is a greenhouse, Weasley. Being warm is hardly unexpected." Draco stopped picking up seeds to wipe a fine sheen of sweat from his face. "It is a bit sticky, but don't get your knickers in a twist. I've been assured that they aren't corrosive, or poisonous."

"Wicked," said Ron shortly. "I have to trust the word of a Slytherin--and a Malfoy Slytherin at that."

Draco bared his teeth. "And as a Malfoy Slytherin, you know that I wouldn't be handling anything I thought might hurt me, even to do you a damage. God, you're as thick as a brick sometimes." Draco swept the candle around, scanning the floor. "Is that all of them?"

"I think so."

"Re-tie the bag, then."

"That will take two hands."

"I know that. I can't let go of the Hand, or we'll be in the dark again."

"And if I let go of , I'm in the dark, and you're scarppering off to tell Filch that you looked out the window and saw me coming out here. No, Malfoy, we're in this together, much as I hate it." He shifted slightly, picking up the sack. "I guess I can trust you--this time."

The instant he was released, Draco laughed and lunged away. "You're so gullible, Weasley!" There was a muted ripping sound, and he jerked to a stop, unable to move. "What the--?" He looked down, and saw that Ron had both feet planted firmly on the hem of Draco's robe. "Why, you devious, mistrustful slag!" A note of grudging, near appreciation entered Draco's tone as Ron, grinning, knotted the cord. "You might have made a half-way decent Slytherin, Weasley."

"Don't make me sick." Ron put the sack back into the cabinet, and Draco relocked it. "I'm not letting you out of my reach till we're both inside, and we'll both get in the same amount of trouble."

"Agreed. Just don't expect me to see you to your door." They made their way out, and Draco refastened the lock. "Come on around to the side. The greenhouse will shield us till we're almost to the school."

They rounded the corner, and Ron skidded to a halt. "Draco, we can't go through there."

"We can unless they've thrown up a barrier without telling us."

"Let's go up that way, then cut across and come back down."

"What? That will take at least another ten minutes, and I don't want your hand on me any longer than absolutely necessary."

"Yeah, but look." Ron pointed. The area they'd been approaching was encircled at about knee height by cord, tied to a stake at each corner. There was little signs hung every few yards, saying KEEP OUT.

"Honestly! No poison symbol--no danger. Stop being such a namby-pamby." Draco grabbed Ron's hand and stepped over the cord. Ron let go with his other hand, but had little choice but to follow.

The plants were low growing, and thick--no ground showed between them. As was often the case, Ron's trousers were a bit short (he'd grown two inches this year), and he felt the plants brushing against his bare ankles. They felt surprisingly cool and velvety. He'd have quite enjoyed it, if it wasn't that the feeling of warmth had increased, and was now accompanied by a sensation that felt like a static electricity charge, running all over his body. "I'm really feeling strange. Are you sure those seeds weren't dangerous?"

Draco stopped and rounded on him. "Yes, I'm sure," he snapped. "If you hadn't been whining and questioning, we'd have been half-way back by now. I'm feeling odd myself, and you don't hear me whimpering about it."

"But this can't be normal! I'm sweating like a pig."

"I know--I can smell it." It wasn't a bad smell, really. It was a little sharp and musky, but there was a warm undertone of spice that made the hairs at the back of Draco's neck prickle.

Ron scowled blackly. "Recognize the smell from your family reunions, Malfoy?"

The tension that had been building since Weasley had discovered him broke over Draco, and he snapped. He shoved Ron hard. "Find your own way back, then!" He turned to run, but Ron lunged up with the speed of a cat and tackled him, bringing them both down among the plants.

The Hand of Glory flew out of Draco's hand, the candle going out, but there was just enough light for the two boys to make each other out as they fought. They wrestled and rolled, kicking and punching. Draco had grown some and was no longer slight. He was slender, wiry, but Ron was still larger. Still, Draco held his own.

At last Draco managed to pin Ron, kneeling on the taller boy's thighs and holding his arms to the ground. "Stop it! This is ridiculous."

Ron wiggled hard. "Fuck you, Malfoy! Let me up."

Draco made a sound of irritation, "No, fuck you, Weasley!" Without pausing to think, he leaned down and forced his mouth down on the other boy's.

Ron froze, his eyes going wide. Draco didn't blink, either, and Ron found himself gazing up into his eyes. *Silver--they look silver, his eyes and his hair.*

Draco was shocked to feel Ron's mouth soften under his own, parting slightly. He lifted his head slowly, watching Ron carefully. The other boy was breathing heavily, keeping eye contact. There was a deep confusion in his expression. He obviously didn't understand what was happening. Draco knew damn good and well what was happening--he just couldn't understand why.. *Weasley? He's a total waste, but right now he's the sexiest thing I've ever seen.*

Draco gave a mental shrug. Sex was what you made of it--nothing more or less. A pastoral roll with Ron Weasley wasn't anything he'd want to brag about later, but an orgasm seemed like an excellent idea. In fact, it seemed downright essential. "Are you up for it, Weasley?"

"What?"

"Oh, don't pretend." Draco moved till he was straddling Ron rather than kneeling on him. This was a dodgy moment. If Ron moved quickly, he could knee him in the bollocks, but somehow Draco didn't think that would happen. Draco lowered himself till their groins met, then humped slowly, rubbing their flies together.

Ron blushed furiously. When Draco had kissed him, there'd been a moment when his mind was screaming in rage. Then a wave of sensation had washed over him, and all he could feel was the silk of Draco's lips against his own. He was dismayed to realize that he was starting to get hard. "I don't even like you."

"And you think you have to like someone to fuck them?" He laughed. "Weren't you listening during Life Studies, Weasley? You don't need like, love, moonlight, roses, or a wedding ring. All you need," he reached between them and cupped his hand over the mound of Ron's erection, squeezing, "is this," Ron groaned, and Draco smiled, stroking him firmly, "and a little lube, if you want to be fancy."

"Just what are you suggesting?" Ron whispered.

"The official term is sodomy, but I prefer to call it plain, simple arse fucking."

"I meant who does what to whom?"

Ron's quick acceptance rather surprised Draco. He had supposed there'd be at least some half-hearted protests, or a little coyness. "You're calmer than I would have expected. No outrage?"

Ron shrugged. "My brother Bill is gay." Malfoy blinked. "What? He has long hair and wears a fang earring. Even if he was straight, there'd be rumors he was gay. Mum says the only objection she'd have had would have been if she wouldn't get any grandchildren, but seeing as she has the other six of us, that's not likely."

"All right. I fuck you."

"Why do I have to be the girl?"

"Why Weasley, that almost sounds like prejudice. Shame on you. I have an idea--let's compare size to decide."

"I'm taller than you."

"Not that kind of size, Weasley."

Even in the dark Draco could see the flush move up Ron's cheeks. "Oh."

Draco raised up, sitting back on his heels, and opened his trousers. Ron found that his hands were shaking as he unbuttoned his waistband, then lowered his zipper. Draco had pushed his trousers down his thighs. His cock jutted stiffly from his sparse pubic hair, its head already glistening. As Ron watched, Draco stroked himself. "What's wrong, Weasley?"

"You're not wearing any pants."

"And I thought you were inobservant. What are you waiting for? Ready to concede?"

"Not bloody likely!" Ron lifted his ass, quickly shoving his own trousers and pants down. His eager cock sprang free, hovering over his pubic thatch. He almost stopped breathing when Draco knee walked forward, lifted it, and pressed it against his own turgid prick. Draco held them with both hands, and stroked slowly, looking down at Ron with tart amusement. When he was sure he could speak, Ron said, "I win. I'm at least two centimeters longer."

"The competition wasn't for longest."

"What?"

"Have you ever had a cock up your arse?"

"No!"

"I have, and let me tell you--for your first time, you don't want the biggest piece of meat you can get. You're a complete virgin, aren't you?" Ron shifted, then nodded reluctantly. "I'm not offering up my tender arse for anyone who doesn't know what the hell he's doing. I fuck you, or we both go inside and die of congested bollocks." *I don't care if you agree or not. It will be easier and better if you do, but so help me, if you try to cry off now, I'll rape you.*

Ron was studying him. Draco kept stroking. He ran the pad of his thumb over Ron's slick cockhead, gathering the clear fluid. Keeping the other boy's eyes caught, he popped the thumb into his mouth and sucked. Ron licked his lips. "You'll be careful?"

Knowing that he'd won, Draco grinned. "I'll treat you like the delicate little rosebud you are." Draco moved off him to let him move. "Strip from the waist down."

Ron obeyed, while Draco did the same. "What about lubrication? I don't want it dry. Bill said that hurts like a bitch, and it isn't really safe."

"Right frank, is your Bill."

"He's cool. I can ask him things without worrying about it getting back to Mum or Dad."

"And you've asked him about anal sex? That means you've thought about it."

Ron tossed aside his clothing. "That's none of your concern, Malfoy. D'you want this, or not?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, I want it. Get on your hands and knees." Ron assumed the position, and Draco moved up behind him. "Spread your knees."

"You said you'd..." "Since we don't have any lube handy, I'll have to prepare you the natural way. Just relax, and it will go more quickly." Draco put his hands on Ron's buttocks, caressing them. The skin was warm and smooth, as pale as cream, without a freckle or blemish in sight. He smacked one cheek lightly. "You've got a smashing arse, Weasley. You're a selfish pig for keeping it to yourself all this time." Draco used his thumbs to part Ron's ass cheeks, spreading the deep crease wide, and Ron shivered as the night air hit the humid flesh. "I thought you said you were hot. Don't worry--I'll warm you up." Draco bent down and dragged his tongue from Ron's balls to his anus. Ron jerked, but Draco dug his fingers into Ron's hips, holding him firmly.

Ron wasn't really trying to get away, he was just startled. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been for Draco Malfoy to lick his crack, then start circling around his anus with the very wet, very hot tip of his tongue. *I never even thought about asking Bill about this!* Draco lapped, then started pushing, his tongue wiggling. Ron's eyes closed, and he moaned. *God, that feels terrific! Malfoy's always had such an acid tongue--who'd have ever believed it could do such wonderful things?*

Draco worked till he could slip the tip of his tongue into Ron's anus. He could feel the sphincter loosening under the oral massage. He paused to suck his fingers, placed the tip of the first one to the wet crinkle, and pushed, slowly but firmly. Ron whined in mild discomfort, and Draco said breathlessly, "Hush. Just give it a minute." He pumped his hand slowly, twisting it. "Does it hurt?"

"No, not really. It just feels funny." Draco pressed a second finger inside him, and Ron winced. "That aches."

"It will, for a bit." Draco was carefully spreading his fingers. "But you'll get used to it. Has Bill told you about your prostate?"

Ron's head dropped, and he laughed. "Bill... Bill calls it the Golden Snitch--seek it, and if you find it, you win the game."

"Well, I have small hands, so you'll have to hope my aim is good with my cock. You're ready." He pulled his fingers free. "On your back."

"What? How can you...?"

Impatient, Draco shoved Ron down onto his belly, then flipped him over. "I like it face-to-face. Put your hands under your knees, spread them, and pull back toward your shoulders as far as you can."

"That sounds uncomfortable."

Draco almost shouted, "Do you want my dick inside you or not?" Ron silently assumed the directed position. As badly as he wanted to bury himself, Draco paused, relishing the sight of Ron spread out before him. This was going to be good. He edged forward, gripped Ron's hips, and lifted them till the boy's buttocks rested on his thighs. He angled his prick till the tip of his glans touched the slightly spread hole. He managed to keep the tremor out of his voice as he said, "Breathe deeply. I'm not going to stop once I start."

"I'm not going to ask." Draco growled, and plunged into Ron in one smooth stroke. Ron's back arched, and he bit his lip hard. Despite the preparation, it hurt--it burned. But he welcomed the burn, needed it to fight the other fire that seemed to have been smoldering inside him since the greenhouse.

Draco started fucking, his hips moving with practiced rhythm. There were some who'd looked at his slight build and assumed that he'd just get on his knees, but they'd been surprised. His father might disparage many things about Draco, but the boy shared his Lucius' taste for domination. He didn't willingly bottom except as a trade off for something he wanted very badly. He was glad he'd insisted this time. Weasley was exquisitely tight, his virgin flesh gripping Draco's thrusting prick just short of pain.

"You're my first virgin, Weasley," he grunted, never slowing. "Do you like it? Hm? Do you enjoy taking my cock up your arse?" Ron slapped at him, and Draco just barely managed to jerk his head back in time. Then Ron reached up and gave one of Draco's nipples a hard pinch. Draco gasped, head going back at the sharp pain. "Fuck! Do the other one!" Ron stared at him, stunned. Cursing, Draco grabbed the boy's hand and dragged it back to his chest. "Do it, damn you!"

Anger overcoming his surprise, Ron pinched the other nipple, giving it a twist. Draco howled, and slammed into him, their flesh meeting with a smack. Ron felt an explosion of heat deep inside, and his voice mingled with Draco's. Draco's thrusts became faster, harder, more erratic. He hit Ron's prostate again and again, and the boy was soon sobbing with pleasure.

*If I can make him come, the contractions ought to be fantastic,* Draco thought. He was about to reach for Ron's cock when Ron gave another strangled cry. His stiff prick was bouncing against his belly with each of Draco's thrusts, and now sperm spurted almost up to his chest. There were two more diminishing spurts. Ron had wanked before, of course, and had always enjoyed it. This climax rocked him, making his whole body clench, then go boneless.

"Damn it, Weasley, I'm not through!" Draco slammed into him. "Don't you fucking pass out on me now! Do something." More from spite than anything else, Ron clenched his teeth and tightened his muscles, as if trying to pass a tough bowel movement. Draco's entire body jerked. "Oh, you fucking marvel!" He came hard, continuing to pump as he emptied his balls into Ron's clenching back passage. Then he collapsed on top of the other panting boy.

When their breathing had slowed, Draco rolled off Ron and stretched lazily. "You're a surprisingly good shag, Weasley. Too bad you are who you are."

Ron felt suddenly dirty. He sat up and grabbed his pants, using them to wipe himself--first torso, then ass. When he was done, he grabbed his trousers and started to put them on. He spotted Draco picking up his underwear, and snatched them away. "Oh, come on, Weasley. I've got to clean up."

"Use your own clothes. I won't have your spunk on my drawers."

Draco's eyebrows lifted. "You'll take it in your arse, but you don't want it on your drawers?"

"Christ, I don't know what came over me. I'd feel less filthy if I'd slept with Fluffy."

"I'm sure Hagrid will be willing to give you a chance, if you ask nicely." White faced, Ron took a step toward Draco, fists clenched. "Careful. This wasn't rape, remember? Hell, it wasn't even borderline. You wanted it as much as I did."

"Let's call it temporary insanity, then, and forget it ever happened."

Ron stalked away from Draco, stepping over the cord that surrounded the patch of plants and disappearing around the far corner of the greenhouse. Draco got his trousers and began to pull them up. *Fine with me. But I'll wager that it takes you a lot longer to forget than it does me, Weasley. After all--you actually care.*