Back in the Closet

Messrs KitsuneKaino and MmerryDdeath proudly proclaim that they have indeed been up to mischief! However, we do not claim any ownership of the "Harry Potter" series, the characters, or the settings.

Readers are warned that this fanfiction contains GRAPHIC boy-on boy action that is not strictly consensual, and they should not continue beyond this point unless they enjoy that kind of thing. It also contains one or two hexes, a bathroom and Blaise Zabini (A dangerous combination indeed). Enjoy at your own risk.

Please note that this is a sequel! Read Detention in the Dungeons first!

Mischief Managed

Draco Malfoy, ice prince of Slytherin, was watching Ron Weasley. It could have been called staring, if not for the fact that he was a Malfoy and staring was an undignified activity for a Malfoy to take part in. Cold, grey eyes dug into the redhead's back, and Draco allowed himself a satisfied smirk when the boy shifted uncomfortably.

Briefly, he glanced at the detestable toad of a woman who taught this class, his wand hand aching to hex her. It did not matter that she was, as his father had put it, 'useful to us'; Draco still loathed her. He shied away from the thought of exactly whom his father meant by 'us' and switched his attention back to the redheaded Gryffindor.

After the 'detention' last month, Ron had succeeded in avoiding him at every turn. The Malfoy heir would have been impressed, if not for the fact that it was highly irritating to have the Weasley continually slipping through his fingers. But not today. Today Ron was not slipping anywhere. He flashed a predatory grin, ignoring the prickling of his conscience. Said grin was still in place when the class ended and Draco calmly took his time packing away his notes and quills, his eyes twinkling in amusement as Ron bolted out of the room before anyone else was out of their seats: Ron had perfected the art of vacating the classroom in under 10 seconds. The Slytherin prefect remained unworried; he had had a month to figure out all of Ron's short cuts and knew exactly where the redhead would be.

Harry was perplexed by his friend's odd behaviour, but he had more pressing matters on his mind. The raven-haired Gryffindor adjusted his spectacles. He supposed Ron could tolerate Umbridge even less than he could. That made the most sense. Harry caught Draco smirking as he packed his books away. Well that confirmed things, didn't it? Running an irritated hand through his messy black locks, Harry decided to stick with that explanation and exited the classroom.

Ronald rounded a corner rather viciously and went straight through the Bloody Baron. The redhead hissed, his lips pinching into a tight line of discomfort as a feeling akin to that of having ice water dumped over your head washed over him.

"BLOODY H-"

"Baron ... to you ..."

The Slytherin's ghost sneered down at the boy and carried on his way. The freckle-faced youth slumped against the wall, near to a dusty, cobweb-coated suit of armour in the empty corridor. People still didn't really come up to the third floor. The suit of armour gave him the once-over quizzically with a rusty creak before returning to its previous position.

Draco sauntered around the same corner, expertly avoiding walking through the Bloody Baron and nodding politely to him in greeting. He scanned the corridor with grey eyes, suppressing a smirk as he noticed the freckled boy sitting on the floor. Stalking him had certainly paid off, as Draco could now accurately guess Ron's location at almost any time of day.

'Did I just think stalking?' Stalking was another thing on the list of "Things that Malfoys do not do". It was called researching your target.

The Slytherin proceeded up the corridor, sneering at the dust and cobwebs gathered on the floor and the suits of armour. A pair of spotless, suspiciously new-looking, prim, black shoes stopped in front of Ron, where he could just see them above his knees. Malfoy halted a few feet away from the slumped boy and made a show of surveying the surroundings. The Weasley's stomach sank. Malfoy's voice split the silence; Ron swore under his breath and hid behind his knees.

"I didn't realise just how much Hogwarts' standards have slipped,"

The Slytherin commented, eyes piercing the mess in the corridor before returning to Weasley's face.

"Although you seem quite at home here."

The blond left the statement hanging in the musty air, waiting for the redhead's reaction.

Even at the second comment Ron remained stationary, gripping his jeans a little tighter. If only he could just control himself, if only he didn't rise to the bait. Ron said nothing and did nothing – and tried to think of nothing too. His red ears told he hadn't quite managed that last one.

Draco raised an amused eyebrow as he was studiously ignored by the Gryffindor; although the boys flushed skin did not escape his notice. He couldn't say exactly why it was so much more fun to tease Ron than anyone else, but the blond could feel the slight tingle of excitement in his stomach. Perhaps it was because Weasley's reactions always outstripped anyone else's.

Draco brushed some dust from his shoulder and moved a little closer to the sulking redhead.

"Ignoring people is rude you know," he murmured, just loud enough that Ron would hear him.

Draco crouched down, careful not to let the cobwebs anywhere near his immaculate clothing. He leaned in, his mouth mere centimetres away from the furiously blushing ear.

"Perhaps I should deduct house points,"

Draco suggested

Fuming slightly, Ronald raised his blue irises to meet the cool grey ones of the Slytherin. His lips were a darker shade than the other boys and they peeled back with his speech, flashing his gritted teeth.

"Have I done something WRONG?"

Ron inquired, clearly emphasising his innocence, his voice laced with irritation and slight hints of malice.

Draco calmly looked back into Ron's furiously glaring eyes and raised a single eyebrow. Ron's face was so close, his breathing harsh. Draco unconsciously licked his lips as the blush crept into Ron's cheeks, remembering how he had flushed right down to his shoulders during sex. A tiny part of the blond's mind pointed out that he had strongly coerced the youngest Weasley boy into having sex with him, but that part of him was ignored. Malfoy's got what they wanted; guilt had no say in the matter.

The Seeker leant in a little closer, until their noses were nearly touching. He didn't break eye contact for even a moment.

"I don't know. Have you?"

His eyebrows quirked suggestively; he could practically feel the heat radiating from the other boys fury and it made every nerve in his body sing with tension, anticipation and a bizarre sense of enjoyment.

The Gryffindor glowered, clearly unamused. He stood clenching his fists, and looked down at Malfoy. He was about to cry, but he didn't think he was giving that much away.

"No, I haven't. And neither have Harry and Hermione. And I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop following me around. Because you ARE. I avoid you and you're always around. I hide in places where nobody ever goes, to be alone ... Moaning Myrtle's toilet ... the third floor corridor ..."

He gestured to the desolate hallway. Draco stood up during the redhead's tirade, and listened to Ron's outburst with a seemingly calm façade.

"And you're always bloody there! Just get AWAY from me and give me a fucking chance to forget anything ever happened. I'm not some crazy rich boy, I'm a normal skint bloke ..."

He flushed, losing some of his confidence.

"So just ... Stay away from me ... please..."

Draco could not help but be affected by the glorious boy in front of him. It truly amazed the blond how much one person could express and feel. Didn't all those outbursts make Ron tired? As always, there was the low buzz of contentment, and satisfaction that he had prodded the redhead into such a fantastic reaction. His heart had sped up a little, but he ignored it in favour of waiting a moment to see if Ron had truly finished.

"Well," he said.

"I'm sure that I didn't really need to know about your bathroom preference, although it is entertaining information to know."

Draco smirked a little at the still fuming boy then took one step closer, bringing them nearly chest to chest.

"Besides, I seriously doubt that you could forget our ... time together, short of obliviating yourself. In fact, I don't think you even really want to forget."

Ron scowled at Draco and still managed to look confused and lost at the same time. Satisfied that he had sufficiently embedded himself beneath the redhead's skin, The Seeker turned and walked straight out of the disused corridor, dropping a drawled

"so long Weasley" over his shoulder. Let the impetuous Gryffindor stew over that: it would make him all the less observant later, which had been the point of this encounter anyway.

What did Draco mean he didn't 'want to forget'? Ron leant against the wall again and slid his fingers into his hair, resting his forehead against his palms. Malfoy had since vacated his line of sight so he muttered his thoughts out loud:

"Why wouldn't I?"