Claims
For: .Blaise Ron Shipper.

Series: HP
Pairing: BZ/RW
Request: get-together fic – first time/beginning of relationship. At least 1,000 words.
Word Count: 1,814

NOTE: sorry this is late, but the first one turned out kinda kinky, and I didn't like it as much, so I didn't get around to typing it. I think you'd like this one better anyways. There are also hints of Crabbe/Goyle/Granger and blatant Harry/Draco.

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I saw him there, sitting next to Potter, for what might have been the first time. It wasn't – I had seen him countless times in classes, in the halls, even here in the Great Hall. But the one thing that clicked in our fifth year, the one thing that sparked my interest, had never been there before. I could hear Draco going on about his conquests – it was no secret that the boy, having discovered the secrets of the bedroom the year before, had taken it upon himself to bed nearly every girl in school. Every Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw girl above third year had seen his bed, and even a few Gryffindors, if they were lucky.

"Drake," I asked, keeping my voice low so that others wouldn't hear the nickname. He hated having it used in public.

"What?" he asked, slightly irritated at the interruption.

"Have you ever considered having a boy?"

He was silent. I looked over to see a sneer on his face. "No," he said sharply. "Why? Are you offering?"

I smirked, as any Slytherin would, and knew my next line almost instinctively. "No, but I'd bet you dinner at Hogsmeade that Potter's still a virgin."

He got an odd look on his face, a sort of contemplating air, and I could nearly see the wheels turning in his head. The blonde turned his grey eyes over to the Gryffindor table, where Potter was sitting next to him, the boy I was thinking about bringing to my room – if I did, he would be my first. Not my first boy, my first ever. It was a tempting thought to just take one of the third years and figure out the best way to go about things.

But I was a Slytherin, I didn't need something like that.

"You know, Blaise, you may just be onto something," he said, and the smile on his face was evil – well, ok, not evil evil, but prankster evil. Potter looked up, and Draco winked. The look on the dark-haired boy's face was priceless – a mix between shock, horror, and suspicion.

I had no doubt that Draco was going to have fun, but that didn't help me with my plans. It did, however, give me an excuse to get closer to the red-head I had my sights set on.

I was already planning the next Hogsmead weekend when we got up to go to class – if I was going to be dating the Weasel, he would have to have a better wardrobe.

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Draco thought that I was just playing along with him – the conquest of the Gryffindor Golden Boy and his pet by his two worst enemies. He'd even convinced Crabbe and Goyle to try and make a move on Hermione – purely for the joy of sex, of course.

They weren't having any luck, but we all took pleasure in the fact that they were seriously creeping the mudblood out. She'd been more jumpy than a nervous mouse for the last week.

Draco and I had settled for more conventional methods of ensnaring our prey. Draco took pride in verbal fights, twisting words and meanings until his prey was left speechless and confused. He made it a point to touch when he could – that one potions class was hilarious to watch – and had worked his way up to slipping a finger under his clothes and brushing against any visible skin. Even when fighting, Draco had taken to pushing Potter against walls and breathing in his face to pulling out his wand.

I worked more from the shadows, giving gifts and slowly working my way into my prey's life while the youngest Weasley male was distracted by Potter's predicament. When I could, I took the chance to sneak into the Gryffindor tower – predictably, the boys had forgotten to charm their windows against intruders – and dispose of the most hideous of the boy's wardrobe. These items were replaced, of course, with something that would look much better on the red-head, and was more to my liking, of course. On occasion, I would also leave behind other gifts – roses, at first, and jewelry. I left him a slave armband once, from the early centuries when wizards weren't feared. The magic in it was nearly gone, of course – he would never feel the need to obey me – but there was still enough flowing through the gold to meld it to his skin, and the metal would never come off. I had seen it beneath his shirt – the boy had tried it on at some point – and I take pleasure in the fact that it cannot be removed.

In a way, it marks him as mine forever.

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This was it. After nearly a month of coddling and tempting and teasing, Draco had pulled the stubborn Gryffindor boy into his bedroom. The boy was still slightly less than willing, but that would not stop Draco – not when he had a conquest to make.

I felt slightly sorry for him, though, because I had been the one to lead him into this, and if anything about the Gryffindor Golden Boy was true, Draco's days of playing the girls were over.

But that didn't matter so much as my own prize.

"You won't find him in there," I told Ron as he called back for Harry in the History of Magic classroom.

The boy jumped, startled, and faced me with a sneer. "What do you want?"

I raised an eyebrow. "So cold, after all I've done?" The confusion on his face was so cute it was almost irresistible. Almost. "I guess you don't want to know where Harry is, then, do you?"

"You git!" he yelled, storming up to my face. "What do you know?"

I smirked, and waited for just a moment. I wanted this to last forever – he was so close, he was almost touching, and this, if I was unlucky, might be the closest I would ever get for a long time.

If I was lucky, then there was no need to rush things anyways.

"I might be convinced to tell you," I said. "For a price."

"What price?"

I pretended to think about it seriously, watching the impatience flash across his face in spurts. "I'm guessing a kiss might get you a general location – if it's really good, I might even tell you where exactly he is. Let me get in a good feel and I might tell you who he's with."

"That's disgusting!"

But the look on his face told me very clearly that he was considering it.

"Take it or leave it."

He gulped, and backed away. "How good does it have to be to find where exactly he is – and feel what, exactly?"

I followed him until he backed against the wall, and was breathing in his face before I answered. "I might be tempted to let you get away with just responding – actively participating – in a kiss for as long as we can hold our breath. Full kiss, though, with tongue." I smiled, and grabbed at his trousers, cupping a limp manhood under cloth. "And I want to feel that, without the hindrance of clothing."

"Gods, why don't you just say you want to fuck me and get it over with."

I frowned. "Because that's not what I want." I let out what seemed to be a heavy and reluctant sigh, and moved my hand from his pants to the wall beside his head, mirroring my other arm. "I guess I could settle for a date at Hogsmeade next weekend, instead of a good feel, but I want all day Saturday with you, from eight in the morning until eight at night."

"I don't get up that early," Ron said, eyes flashing.

I smiled. "Well the later you get up the later you'll need to stay, and I'm more than willing to take you back to my common room to make certain we get our time together." Ron gulped. "Snape wouldn't mind an overnight visitor, either."

"Fine – Saturday at eight. Now where's Harry and who's he with?"

"Ah, ah, ah….I still get my kiss. That wasn't under negotiation."

Ron paled. "Does it have to be with tongue?"

"Well, no," I conceded. "But if it's not then I don't have to tell you exactly where he is."

I was surprised by the quick peck on the lips he gave – hardly a second, and barely more than a brush against lips.

Well, that was fun, I thought sarcastically. But then again, it could be fun. "He's in Hogwarts," I said with a smile.

Ron groaned, nearly sliding down the wall and burying his face in his hands. I waited patiently. After taking a deep breath, he got up the courage to kiss me again. It was longer, lingering, and I just barely got a taste of his lips when I licked my own afterwards. "I suppose that's good enough to tell you that he's in the dungeons."

Ron gaped. "The dungeons are huge."

"Let me kiss you for a good long time – tongue and your own participation included – and you'll find out where he is. I don't mind keeping this up, though – I've already got my date."

"But wait – you never told me who he was with!"

"I said I might tell you," I answered, smirking, "and that's not even an issue, since you agreed to the date. You never said anything about me giving out information."

Ron banged his head against the wall.

"Don't do that," I frowned. "You'll hurt yourself."

The red-head laughed, lightly. "Fine," he said, "go ahead and kiss me."

I did. There weren't any fireworks, or butterflies, or any spectacular happenings – although I imagine that Ron was quite nervous from the way he kept shifting. It was pure dominance, and I loved it. His mouth was mine, and I claimed it for as long as I could. My tongue swept against teeth and his own tongue, tracing the roof of his mouth and showing his wet appendage where to go, what to do. He moaned as I claimed his mouth – as I claimed him – and my hands on his hips were the only thing holding him up.

When we could not stay joined any longer, the need for air too great, I let him go. I nuzzled his cheek and let my breath ghost against his ear as I told him what he so desperately had wanted to know. "He's with Draco, in Draco's bedroom, most likely having sex. I'll see you Saturday."

I pulled away, smiling as he collapsed to the floor, his legs unable to support him any longer. I doubted that he even heard what I'd said – he was too dazed, and, from the whimper he gave, desperate as well.

I walked away.

I could hardly wait until he really was mine – forever.

THE END.