Title: Realization On A Winter's Eve
Rating: Starts off PG-13 then gains an enormous R
Pairing: Draco/Ron
Summery: After much rivalry, Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley make a bet, and the loser has to be the winner's personal servant for the Winter Holiday. What slashy feelings will result from this?
Current Music: The White Stripes - Little Acorns
Chapter One: Christmas Carols: The Rivalry Begins

Snowflakes fell lazily from the heavens in graceful spirals to the frosted ground below. At this moment, Ron Weasley was staring outside the tall window at them with large, blue eyes glistening, like he was really gazing at a massive chocolate cake, or an alluring Veela girl. The snow looked so inviting as it was just starting to fall, and it was calling him to be a little boy again and run outside and play. Unfortunately, Ron was not a little boy. He was nearly sixteen, and sitting in dreaded Double Potions. He could only gaze, enchanted by the falling crystals. He was only slightly aware of a large shadow looming over him, and a harsh voice somewhere off in the distance.

Mr. Weasley, Mr. WEASLEY!

Ron jerked out of his trance with a sudden lurch in his chair. As his eyes focused on reality, he was instantly greeted with the awed expressions of all his classmates, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, well- the Slytherin faces were filled more with usual contempt than awe. A group of girls in the corner started to giggle, and Hermione instantly made a move to try to shut them up.

And behind him, to his immediate dread and disappointment, stood a chalk-faced Professor Snape. He looked naturally venomous.

Well, Mr. Weasley, I was beginning to wonder when you'd finally grace us with your presence, he drawled coolly. The Slytherin girls started to snicker again, and Ron couldn't help noticing an almost cheery Malfoy out of the corner of his eye, nudging Goyle heartily. Ron scowled, and exchanged wary glances with Harry, his working partner, who turned to cast a small sneer at the platinum-haired Slytherin boy. Snape continued, Mr. Weasley, if I were your student, and you were up at the front of the room, lecturing on a common healing extract from an exotic Amazon plant, you'd want me to pay attention to the lecture, wouldn't you?

Honestly, Ron didn't give a fuck whether or not the imaginary student-Snape would be paying attention to him. He didn't plan on ever teaching such a boring class as this.

Instead of saying that, he replied, Yes, Sir.

Snape leaned back from the desk as if this was some surprise. You would? Well then, why, when I stand before you do you not understand the concept of paying attention to me? His voice was so icy, Ron didn't even need to go outside to feel the cold which was pouring out of Snape's malicious words. Snape turned away suddenly, with black robes swishing against the floor as he marched up to the front of the classroom, booming over his shoulder as he went, Perhaps detention, and fifteen points from Gryffindor will make you more agile to keep your mind in class.

Instantly, all the Gryffindors groaned, and Malfoy's eyes glittered with contentment. Ron could've socked him in the face for wearing such an expression, but the school bell suddenly chimed, and it was time for dinner. As Ron and Harry gathered their books, a bunch of Gryffindors rushed by, giving the redhead odd glances as they went. The giggling Slytherin girls followed, and Hermione raised an eyebrow as she helped Ron stick his books into his cauldron. They left the dungeon without saying a word to each other.

As they made their way down the corridor to the Great Hall, they were suddenly stopped by Malfoy and his hulks barging in front of them. Malfoy grinned. Bravo, Weasel, or shall I call you Britney now? Crabbe and Goyle laughed harshly, and Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.

Bugger off, Malfoy, Ron snarled, though he honestly had no idea what the blonde was talking about.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow in fake hurt. Oh, Britney, all I wanted was an autograph. Maybe, when you get all famous, you'll make enough money to buy soap to wash your ugly face. His thugs howled with laugher again. This time Harry was the one to speak:

Bugger off!

The blonde boy immediately barked out a laugh. And what are you, Potter? His backup dancer? Oh, right. You don't know how to dance 'cos no girl would want to dance with clumsy, stupid Harry Potter. At this, Harry and Ron both clenched fists. So, I guess you're all a trio, is that right? Malfoy grinned wider. You can sing little songs on the streets to Muggles and get enough money to buy Weasley a new Muggle radio so he doesn't have to sing to entertain' his Muggle-loving family.

Sod off, Ferret face! Ron hissed, feeling his cheeks burn angrily.

He expected Malfoy to say another insult, and was preparing to dish it back even though he still wondered what on God's green earth his nemesis was talking on about. But, surprisingly, Malfoy backed down, chuckling to himself as he signaled his cronies to follow him down the corridor.

Ron stared after him, fuming and red-faced. Hermione's mouth was in a rather tight line, and Harry shook his head. Finally, Ron couldn't stand being confused, and questioned, What the bloody hell was Malfoy talking about? Britney?

Harry smirked slightly, When you were sitting in Potions, you got all caught up in this daydream, and you.....well, er.....

You started singing, Hermione finished, wide-eyed, Christmas carols to be exact.

Ron felt like a troll had just whopped him over the head with a club. Exasperation. Singing? Christmas carols?! His friends nodded.

Harry suddenly became very interested in his shoelaces. Don't get me wrong, Ron. You have a very nice voice, but-

In front of Malfoy?! Oh, shit. Oh, shit, this is bad! Ron put his face in his hands, now he really was beet red.

No, it isn't, Hermione tried to soothe. In a few days, everyone will forget. Come on, she rested a hand on his back. Let's go have dinner.

Ron shook his head and quickly dragged himself up the stairs, to his room. He was furious. How could this fucking happen?! He'd just made an idiot of himself in front of everyone, won himself detention, and lost his house fifteen points! Oh, damn that Snape! Damn the lovely snow, and especially, damn Malfoy.

Oh, he hated Malfoy with a passion. Ever since the day they'd first met, Ron was certain he'd found his future assassin. Malfoy was evil, heartless, snobby and girly. He even looked like a girl! He had a thin body, semi-long, platinum hair, and a really lovely face. Hang on. Did he just think Malfoy was lovely? Hell no. It was just a random thought. But he was enviously good-looking. Ron would admit that to himself, but Malfoy's snobbery made all of the beauty disappear.

And now, Malfoy was going to spread Ron's singing in class dilemma around the whole of Hogwarts! This was not good. This was, in fact, the most embarrassing thing that could ever happen to him. Although his voice wasn't that bad, he didn't want everyone to know he'd been singing Jingle Bells or something! Oh fuck!

Ron flopped onto his bed and buried his head in his pillow. He reasoned to himself, I'll go and hex Malfoy right now, then he won't be there to laugh his Ferret-head off. That's what I'll do. His mind prompted him to get up and carry out his plan. Unfortunately, he fell asleep instead.


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It wasn't like Draco had anything against Weasley. Well, he was a Mudblood-lover and only a step higher than the House Elves on a rich society level, but Weasley....really wasn't that bad, Draco honestly thought. The boy had a lot of guts, standing up to a Malfoy. And since Day One, Draco had secretly been rather impressed with the boy's courage. Not that he was really all that courageous. He acted like a pussy a lot of the time, especially next to stupid Potter. The handsome Slytherin figured that if Weasley just lost Potter, he'd be all right. And if he got some more money. But it's not like that was ever going to happen.

In all sincerity, Draco thought Ron was really very pretty. He had red hair that stood out like Hell's flames. Red was such a passionate colour. And his eyes were this river-blue, to sort of extinguish the scarlet flames. He had a light display of tiny, brown freckles on his nose, leading down to his delicate, rose-petal lips. Draco thought of his mother's fondness for rose gardens when he was little, and could clearly remember bringing a freshly cut, pink rose up to his face, gently inhaling its sweet scent, and feeling its feather-soft petals brush against his lips as he did so. He'd recently begun to wonder if that's what Ron's lips felt like. But, at this rate, he figured he ought to come to the realization that he'd never really know.

But that was just his face. Then there was also his body- gently muscled, slightly tan arms, and Draco imagined that the rest of Ron's frame was like that. But as said before, Draco had a feeling he'd never know; never see past the heavy layers of hand-me-down clothing.

Now, all that the Slytherin boy could do was continue to make fun of him the best he could. He didn't really want them to be enemies- bloody hell! He wanted the exact opposite! But, since there wasn't any way that would happen, he'd just have to remain opaque and jerkish to the redhead. Besides, the colour Weasley's face turned when he got mad at Malfoy was damn sexy.


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Ron awoke the next morning with a headache. He'd somehow managed to roll right out of bed sometime that past night, and now he found himself on the floor, face down to the floorboards, inhaling dust and a chocolate frog wrapper.

Groaning, he stood up dizzily and dusted himself off. Turning to his left and right, he found that everyone had already gone down to breakfast, and he was alone. Probably because of my performance yesterday... he thought aloud, grasping his towel as he dragged himself into the boy's bathroom.

Stupid Malfoy, he vented to himself while combing out his messy hair in the empty bathroom. I wish I could get him back. Have something to laugh at him about. And, by Gods I will. Just what could I do? He reached for what he thought was his hair gel and squirted it into his hand. I mean- He paused, looking at the white goop in his hand. What is this? he wondered, rinsing off his hand and lifting the bottle to inspect it. It read White Out on it. What? Oh, right. Harry had been using this Muggle stuff that looked like bird shit, to try and cover up a bit of graffiti on the bathroom wall that said Harry wants old men. Ron suspected Seamus had written it as a practical joke. He chuckled to himself as he thought about that. he mused to the large bathroom mirrors, What a horrible thing that would've been if I got this crap in my hair. Then an idea hit him; an idea so clever that he wished he had someone there to high five him. His lips quirked into a smirk as a pinwheel of thoughts flashed through his brain. he whispered, licking his lips as he stuffed the Muggle bottle into his pocket and ran into the dormitory to find Harry's invisibility cloak. It was only half-seven. He definitely had time.


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Draco grinned at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He felt that he looked especially good today. Not that he didn't look good any other day, but today was even better. Crabbe stood to the left of him, brushing his teeth with brutal awkwardness, as if the toothbrush were too little for his fat mouth.

Draco carefully buttoned the front of his black shirt and announced to no one in particular, Father bought it for me just last week. He says, with our Quittich match coming up at the end of the week, I ought to look especially charming to build up a campaign for Slytherin team. What do you think? The last part was directed at Crabbe, who looked up densely from the sink, toothbrush hanging from his teeth.

Er...You look nice, Draco, he said bluntly, then turned back to the mirror with a grunt.

Yeah, much better than tattered and grime-covered Weasley. He couldn't afford to own a sleeve of this shirt. Draco drawled, feeling that it was important to compare himself to Weasley, just to give himself the extra boost of dignity.

As he finished struggling with the last button, he noticed in the reflection of the mirror that the bathroom door was slowly opening behind him. He squinted at its image, watching it close itself, and no person had actually yet appeared from behind it. Did you see that? he asked Crabbe suspiciously.

Crabbe replied, staring into the mirror, confused, as his friend was doing.

The door opened, and then closed, like a Ghost just walked in, changed his mind and walked back out, Draco answered quietly, turning himself around to give the oak door a hard stare.

I didn't see anything, Crabbe said plainly, after spitting out toothpaste loudly into the sink. Then he pondered aloud, as if it were the hardest observation to make, Maybe you're just hallucinating. You said, yourself, to me yesterday that you've not been getting much sleep lately.

That's true. Malfoy pulled at his hair slightly, a habit he had when he was busy figuring something out. Then he smirked to himself. Perhaps I'll go tell that Pomfrey bitch that I'm sick and need to lie down for the rest of the day.

Good one, Crabbe snickered and gripped his bottle of hair gel. Then, he sneered at it with distaste and tossed it over his shoulder so it made a loud crack against the stone floor tiles. Malfoy had taught him that trick. Shit. It's empty, he said, scowling. Then he looked at Draco desperately. Draco, do you, er, think I could use some of yours?

Not too much, since I still have to use it, Malfoy replied, reaching for his own personal bottle which his mother had bought for him while traveling in Paris. It smelled really good, and he wasn't sure if such a hulk as Crabbe really deserved it. But he put his hand out to snatch up the bottle anyway, and was surprised to feel only the bathroom counter. What in bloody- he muttered, staring down at the place his hand had been. Now, hang on. It was right there a minute ago.

I saw it too. Think Pomfrey will let us both into Hospital Wing? Crabbe half-joked, shrugging. Then he suddenly crouched down and picked up a small bottle which he'd just noticed was by his feet. Wait, here it is, Draco, he said, unscrewing the bottle and sniffing it. His face scrunched up into a scowl. Ugh! It smells like shit, Malfoy.

Draco grabbed the bottle from his thug's hand and poured a little of it into his palm. Yeah. It's thicker than usual. His lips quirked into a malicious smile. Maybe we should give it to Weasley. He'll take horse shit with open arms. The two boys chuckled, and Malfoy began to rub the gelatin into his beautiful, blonde locks.

Crabbe looked down at his watch and his eyes bugged. Breakfast is nearly over! Oh, hurry up, Malfoy.

All right! Let's get going, Draco agreed, and the two Slytherins hurried down to eat.

As soon as the door closed, Ronald Weasley lifted his borrowed invisibility cloak off of his head and smiled to himself triumphantly. How he'd managed to get in here was still a miracle, but he'd done it, and now his plan was complete. Any minute now.....


Draco and his two cronies strutted into the Great Hall, with Crabbe and Goyle peering around the room for whatever food was left to steal, and Malfoy looking straight ahead, feeling especially sharp in his brand new shirt. He slid into a chair beside the Slytherin table and watched as several male and female students turned their faces toward him, then turned to each other and began whispering and giggling.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. WHAT was going on? It was then that Pansy Parkinson strode past the table with her thick ringlets bouncing violently at her every waddling step. She was reading some magazine entitled, BEAUTIFUL WITCHES' GLAMOUR AND WIZARD-SNATCHING. Draco snorted, and the chubby witch said a small, flirtatious, Hi, Draco, from behind the magazine cover, not really looking at him.

Draco replied, taking two remaining scones from their tray.

Oh, Draco, Pansy's shrill voice chirped excitedly, still behind the magazine, I can't wait to see you play in the Qui- There was a moment's pause, then Pansy let out a loud shriek, causing all in the Great Hall to look at her. By this time, her eyes had appeared over the top of the magazine to look at the Slytherin , and as they did, they widened to the size of scones Draco was holding, and her cheeks reddened slightly. Look! Your HAIR! she cried, dropping the beauty magazine altogether.

What are you- Draco snapped as he reached up to feel his hair, but when he touched it, he trailed off in speech, feeling the gel that hadn't yet dried in his platinum locks. Wait a minute. This wasn't hair gel! He lifted the glassy plate in front of him to look at his reflection, but nearly dropped it when he noticed a thick, white solution all over his hair. It seriously looked as though he'd dumped a vanilla milkshake on top of his hair, and drops of it lazily rolled off the back strands, staining the back of his spiffy, black robes! he moaned, cringing as he stood up abruptly, trying to shake off the goop without much previous thinking. At this point, everyone was laughing loudly as the sixteen-year old snatched up a napkin and began hastily sopping up the mess in his hair.

Draco couldn't think right now. He was completely puzzled as he rushed from the Great Hall, still violently scrubbing his head free of the gluey substance. How humiliating! Everyone had seen him. EVERYONE! But how did this happen? He wouldn't have intentionally put this shit into his hair! He stopped walking, and tugged at his hair again (still sticky), thinking. The hair gel. It must've been tampered with! But who would dare mess with a Malfoy's stuff?

It was then that none other than Ron Weasley came from around the corner, smiling brightly as he looked at Draco innocently. Hi, Malfoy. Get all that owl crap out of your hair yet?

Draco clenched his fists as realization hit him. he snarled, moving closer to the redhead. You did this, you stupid, ugly git!

Ron beamed even bigger. Don't lose your temper, Malfoy. It doesn't make your pale face look very good.

Draco felt his stomach choke up with rage, but he instantly made himself cool down, and not make it seem like Weasley was winning. Why don't you write a song about it, Weasel. I mean.....Britney. He smirked maliciously.

Oh, come on, Malfoy, Ron replied with forced calm. Making fun of that is so old now. I'll bet you couldn't come up with anything better? He raised his eyebrows slightly, taking a careful step closer to his rival.

Draco was surprised by the challenge, but he took a step forward as well, bringing them about a foot apart. I can come up with something that will make you cry for your poor mummy.

But you won't. Ron took another step forward.

I will. Another step from Draco.

Now, Ron was mere inches from Draco, and he could feel his enemy's warm breath on his face. To be extra menacing, the redhead forced his eyes to meet Draco's, and when he did, he wished he hadn't. Ron had never known that it was possible to be nearly stupefied, just by looking into someone's eyes, until now. He'd always thought Malfoy's eyes were gray at a glance, but now he saw that they were pure silver; Silver, with little, aqua flecks in the center. It was like looking out the window back in Snape's class, seeing snow fall gently on the world. Ron's favourite place. Ron's home. In Draco's eyes. In Draco's....WHAT?!

Ron instantly realized that somehow his face had gotten an inch closer to Draco's, and he felt, with horrid realization, the soft breath from his enemy, lightly massaging his lips as he continued to gaze into Draco's winter-scene eyes. He quickly blinked, and forced his thoughts to slam back together. he whispered, still with a threatening tone. Prove it. I dare you. He watched an unrecognizable emotion flash across Malfoy's face, then the blonde suddenly pulled away, smirking.

You have it coming to you, Weasel, Draco said softly, then he strode down the corridor, out of sight.

A Word From The Author:

Oi! How goes it, everyone? Here begins the tale of an exotic Draco/Ron pairing. Now, I don't mean to confuse you, and I know some of this won't make sense if you've read The Order of the Phoenix, but bare with me. I started writing this two days ago, before reading the OotP, then I did read it, and I realize that it's a bit difficult to change this to fit the fifth book, so for now, I say, forget the fifth book and pretend none of that happened yet, so Malfoy and Ron aren't prefects and all that jazz. Thanks a bunch!

Oh, and please do review. I'd like to know how this is looking, even though I'm not that far into it yet. I also have another story at www.fictionpress.net, entitled . It's a true story (yes, it really is!) about my two best friends falling for each other. Lovely, slashy work. My name there is if you look for it under authors, so go for it, and tell me what you think. It's a little harsh, yeah, but it's practically all true. I changed the names of a few people in it. That's about it. But, anyway, thanks so much for your support and brightest blessings!

delicious love, Ebony LaShalter