Title: The Interview

Author: Page of Cups

Rating: M

Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this request would not have been necessary. As it is such, I am not Ms. Rowling or affiliated with Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros., and whoever else happens to own pieces of the Harry Potter cash cow.

Note: I wrote this for the gift of dron exchange at LiveJournal, which I why (if you're a fan of my Kingdom Hearts fic) you haven't ready anything from me in over a month. This story gave me one hell of a time. I wouldn't call it my best piece of work, but considering it's been ages since I wrote this pairing in any kind of depth whatsoever, I think I managed all right. Hope everyone had a good holiday!

-Prologue-

Hermione Granger was by no means a stupid girl so when she arrived home one evening to a darkened flat, her fiancé's belongings packed by the door, and the same fiancé staring at his hands in the sitting room, she knew something was wrong. She didn't even bother to remove her coat before she sat on the sofa next to him and touched one of his wrists with her fingers. He made a slight jerking motion, his eyes briefly flicked up before returning to his hands, and Hermione knew things had just gone from bad to worse.

"Ron...? What's going on? Why are all your things by the door?"

He sighed.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't...I have to tell you something and I don't know how."

Hermione took a deep breath, held it for a second, and exhaled.

"What's wrong? What can't you do anymore?"

Ron sighed again. He fiddled with his hands some more.

"I can't marry you."

Her breath caught in her throat. There were a thousand things she felt at that moment—a thousand things she wanted to say. After all they'd been through to get where they were...after disputes over house elves and horcruxes...after Lavender Brown and Viktor Krum...all that anxiety for...this? They were supposed to get married; they were supposed to be in love. There were a thousand things Hermione felt at that moment, but all she could manage to say...

"What was that?"

Another sigh escaped Ron's lips. He slumped forward and picked at the dirt under his fingernails.

"I'm sorry. I...Bloody hell, Hermione, don't make me say it again."

Hermione hurriedly brushed a piece of hair out of her face and wiped at her cheeks despite the fact she was not yet crying.

"What...I mean...You can't...marry me?"

Ron shook his head.

"I thought I could, but..."

"But what?"

"But it's not fair. To either one of us. I can't keep pretending to want this when I stopped wanting it a long time ago."

This time Hermione almost did cry as her breath caught in her throat again.

"How long?"

Ron looked away from his hands, looked away from Hermione so that all she could see was the back of his head. He sighed for the fourth time and shrugged.

"Since before we got together, really."

"Since before...You're not making any sense, Ron."

He sighed again. Ron raked his fingers through his hair and turned to look at her this time—really look at her. He shook his head.

"I know you're probably going to hate me, and you have every right to be mad. That's why I'm leaving. I just wanted to tell you to your face. You deserve that much, right?"

"I'm not sure what it is you're trying to tell me other than you can't marry me and you didn't want to date me, either."

Ron shook his head again.

"I did want to date you. I wanted to date you for ages, but before we started dating...I thought it would go away, but it hasn't, and I can't..."

"I don't understand what it is you're saying."

"I'm gay, Hermione. I'm...I'm in love with someone else, and I can't make it go away, so I don't think it's fair to marry you."

Hermione didn't know what part to comment on first. Her emotions were getting away from her. In this un-Hermione-like situation, she tried to regain control of something. Staring at a point past Ron's head, she went over his words in her head, and tried to take the systematic approach.

"Since when have you been gay?"

Ron shrugged.

"Since I've been attracted to blokes, I reckon."

"And you're not...you're not in love with me?" asked Hermione. She was careful to control her voice as she asked this, mindful to keep it free of judgment until she truly understood what was going on. Ron shook his head. "You're in love with...someone else?" Ron nodded. "Another boy?" Ron nodded again.

The whats, hows, and whys of the situation of the situation were screaming for attention. Part of Hermione wanted to scream about Ron being a terrible boyfriend, an even more terrible friend, and a horrible person in general for dating her for over a year, proposing, and now pulling this rubbish on her, but another part...

Hermione Granger was not a rash girl by any means. True, she had been known to get highly emotional and attack Ron with packs of birds when he did something stupid, but this wasn't Lavender Brown. It was very like Ron to bottle something this big up and hope it would go away, and ordinarily Hermione would be angry and make him suffer until she felt he properly repented, but he was sitting here right now and telling her. It was very unlike Ron to pop the cork on whatever he'd bottled up. Hermione usually had to guess what was bothering him. Angry as she was, could she really turn him away right now when he was trying to be honest with her? When he was finally, after all those years and everything they'd gone through with Harry together, opening up?

As much as she like to attack him with a flock of birds because she knew he wasn't going to yield—they weren't going to get married now or ever—she had to be a friend first. She couldn't turn him away when he was, for possibly the first time in his life, verbalizing his fears and insecurities in a straightforward manner without shouting about it. Hermione knew this had to be hard for him to do—to tell her, but she was even more surprised (and maybe a little impressed), because she knew that whoever this bloke he was in love with was, it had to be huge if he couldn't ignore it anymore. Whoever this bloke was...

Hermione's eyes grew huge.

"Ron?"

"...Yeah?"

"Is it Harry?"

Ron actually laughed. Hermione scowled.

"It's not funny, Ron."

"Yes, it is."

"Well...is it?"

"No. It's not Harry. Equally as impossible, but it's not Harry."

"Then who is it?"

Ron hesitated.

"I...I don't really want to say."

"Ron, you asked me to marry you two months ago, and now you're telling me you've been in love with someone else since before we started dating. I think I'm being awfully understanding about this. I could just hex you, you know. As such, I think I deserve a full explanation."

He sighed again. The smile from a second ago was gone as if hadn't really been there.

"You won't understand."

"Make me understand."

His eyes fell to the floor. He mumbled something indistinguishable. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, Ron, didn't quite catch that."

He raised his head a little and took a deep breath.

"Draco."

Hermione almost fell off the sofa.

"Malfoy?!"

"Is there another Draco I don't know about?"

"What? I don't..."

"Told ya you wouldn't understand."

"But...but you haven't explained anything! How?! Why?!"

"...We dated."

"You dated."

"Yeah. Sort of."

"When?"

"Seventh year."

"Seven...Ron, we weren't at Hogwarts seventh year. We were with Harry finding the horcruxes, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." Ron paused and looked up at the ceiling. He sighed again and closed his eyes. "But if you'll remember I wasn't with the whole time, was I? Harry and I got into that row and I left."

"Right, but...You went to Shell Cottage, right? You didn't go to Hogwarts."

Ron made a pathetic, strained little laugh.

"That's what I told you, yeah, but that's not what happened."

It was as if Hermione's entire world came crumbling down with that one sentence. There was a heavy silence for some time as Hermione tried to sort out what must have happened in her head as she took long, shaky breaths. There were so many things she wanted to know but unable to formulate the questions to ask them, and that's when Ron started talking again.

"I was worried about Ginny. We'd just overhead Dean Thomas with the Goblins, remember? The Carrows were at Hogwarts. Snape before we knew he wasn't really on You-Know-Who's side. I wanted to know my family was okay, so I went to Shell Cottage for some help. Bill was really unhappy that I'd run out on you and Harry, but I think he got that I needed some time to cool down, so he helped me get some school things together and I went back to Hogwarts.

"I think Neville and the others never said anything about my being there because it was really awkward, and I think they realized that I never told you or Harry what happened. I think Ginny never said anything because she'd want me to deal with the mess I made on my own. Good of her, really. Makes this loads easier."

"So what happened?" said Hermione. Ron took a deep breath.

-1-

Ron stared at the carpet several seconds before answering Hermione's question.

"By the time I got to Hogwarts Neville and D.A. were already striking out against the Carrows. McGonagall was rather harsh with me about running out on you and Harry, too, but she offered to help cover my tracks if I decided I wanted to leave again to rejoin you. Ginny filled me in on everything I needed to know about the state of things at Hogwarts, and I just kind of fell back in the fold. I was only there three weeks, but it felt like forever.

"The second day I was there I had Dark Arts with Amycus Carrow. I think you already knew from Ginny and Neville that the whole Defense part was out, right? It was all Dark Magic and Unforgiveables?"

Hermione nodded.

"Neville said when we went back before the last battle."

"Right. Well remember how Neville told you that we had to practice the Cruciatus curse on people who received detentions and all?" Hermione nodded. "The first lesson I was there for, Amycus was having the class practice on Malfoy because he'd been the last one to receive detention."

"Malfoy? But...But I thought his father...Voldemort was practically living out of Malfoy Manor."

"I know, but..."

-----1.A-----

Ron looked between Amycus Carrow and Draco Malfoy. The utmost look of loathing was thick and mutual between them.

"Here they go again," said Neville. "I wish Malfoy would knock it off."

"I don't know," said Seamus. "I think he deserves it, slimy git."

Ron frowned.

"You think Malfoy deserves the Cruciatus curse?" said Neville.

"It's not as if half the class can do it, anyway."

"The Slytherins can."

"I don't get it," said Ron. "What's going on? Why're we supposed to be practicing on Malfoy?"

"The Carrows hate Malfoy," said Seamus. "They keep sticking him in detention and then he ends up being the person we've got to practice all the curses on."

"Malfoy baits them, too," said Neville. "I know we bait them and all, but we're just standing up to them. Malfoy acts like he wants it. I wish he'd knock it off. He's only hurting himself."

"It's not as if the rest of the Slytherins are helping. They hate him just as much as the Carrows right now. It's like this Cruciatus Curse thing. Most of us know it's wrong so we don't really try even if we don't like Malfoy. We're all failing because of it, but the Slytherins don't care. They don't like Malfoy anyway."

Ron frowned.

"I don't get it. Why not? Malfoy's with You-Know-Who just like the rest of them, innit he? He came in here with Crabbe and Goyle as usual."

Seamus and Neville exchanged glances. Seamus shrugged.

"You explain it. Carrow's glaring at me."

Seamus stood up, grabbed his wand, and moved to join the rest of the group. Ron looked at Neville expectantly. Neville shrugged.

"Crabbe's really more in charge these days. Malfoy...his entire family is kind of a Death Eater joke. His father got thrown in Azkaban, and You-Know-Who ordered Malfoy to kill Dumbledore to spare his parents' and his lives. He didn't do it, though, did he? Snape did. Malfoy's only still alive because You-Know-Who isn't done using them yet. The Carrows like to call him weak a lot. He actually spat on Snape at the beginning of term."

Ron blinked.

"How do you know all this?"

"The Slytherins aren't exactly shy when it comes to talking about it. Ask anyone. I'm sure they'll tell you the same."

-2-

Ron looked up at Hermione. He sighed again.

"Draco didn't look good. I don't know if you remember the way he looked at Easter holiday when Greyback took us the Manor, but...he was pale. Paler than usual. Thinner than usual. He looked sick. Scared. After what Neville told me...You remember what Harry said, right? About what happened on the tower? Draco lowered his wand. Dumbledore was trying to give him an out—a way to keep him and his family safe from You-Know-Who, and Draco lowered his wand. He's not a killer; everything he did was in defense for him and his family."

"So...What? You felt sorry for him?"

Ron frowned.

"Not exactly. I...I didn't realize up until then how much I depended on Draco. Our entire lives have been intertwined, and I didn't know what to do seeing this other side of him. I've always looked at him and saw this pureblood git who only knew how to hate, and when Neville told me all of that, and I thought about what Harry had already told us...I think I realized how alike Draco and I really were."

"You and Malfoy? Alike?"

Ron nodded.

"Yeah. I mean...Draco grew up with his family's beliefs pressed upon him and he accepted them without question because he loved and respected his parents. He trusted them. Who can blame him? He was just a kid. Now that I'm nineteen, when I look back on it and realize just how young we were...When I think of an eleven or twelve year old kid spewing off about Mudbloods and Daddy's money, all I can think is that kid must have had terrible parenting. Draco was all talk for ages, and he wasn't even very good at it, but we were kids, too, so we couldn't see it.

"What's the worst thing Draco really did first year? Steal Neville's Rememberall? Call me poor? I am poor. He knew you a whole year without calling you a Mudblood once. He visited me in the hospital wing and got Charlie's letter about Norbert, sure, but when the time to serve the detention came he freaked out and ran from the Forbidden Forest screaming and crying his lungs out. He was just a kid reiterating everything his father had told him up until that point. He was a bully, yeah, but look at his example of right and wrong. It's no wonder.

"Second year Malfoy couldn't stop using the word Mudblood. It was like when he went home over summer holiday was the first time he ever heard the word. We know he told his father all about you, me, and Harry because Lucius mentioned it when we ran into him at Flourish and Blotts."

Hermione stared.

"How do you remember that?"

"I obsessed over destroying Malfoy for years. I remember everything. But think about it, Hermione. He only called you a Mudblood after you insulted him. We were ragging on him about buying his way onto the Slytherin team and he lost it. Sure, what he said was mean, but what do you think his father called you when Draco went home and told him about you? I doubt he even got the implications of what the word really meant except that it was offensive. You hurt his feelings, and so he wanted to hurt yours. Mudblood. There you go. And sure, he said he hoped the basilisk got you, but if it were reversed and the basilisk was offing Slytherins, Harry and I'd be going on for ages about how we hoped it took Malfoy out and fast.

"We were really shaped by our parents views on blood—the both of us. We both learned to hate, but the things we were taught to hate were very different. It wasn't until then that I could manage even a bit of sympathy for him. Honestly, Hermione. He only got nasty to Harry and me the first day on the train after I laughed at him. I started it. I was raised hearing that Malfoys escaped Azkaban but they didn't need a reason to turn to Dark Arts. I was raised to hate Malfoys for being arrogant, and pureblood, and bigots that supported You-Know-Who, so when I met Draco, I immediately thought of him that way. He wasn't even old enough to really understand what it meant to be a Death Eater and probably didn't until You-Know-Who charged him with the task of killing Dumbledore, but I hated him from the start. I was no better."

"But your parents were right, weren't they?" said Hermione. "It doesn't matter what blood you've got. The Death Eaters were wrong."

"No, they weren't. They should have taught me tolerance. They should have taught me that just because someone was in Slytherin didn't mean they were all bad. Bad witches and wizards have come from all houses, haven't they? I wasn't taught that. I learned tolerance from you. Until then I was under the impression all Gryffindors were good; Slytherins were bad. Malfoys especially were bad. Think of how different it could have gone if I hadn't laughed at him. Imagine what Malfoy could've learned earlier if I hadn't started things with him at the beginning."

"Just because you laughed at him doesn't mean Malfoy would've been any different."

"Maybe not, but what if? Draco's...he's not what we all made him out to be. He's very critical of others, but he's most critical of himself. His pride is easily hurt. He spent years at Hogwarts talking about his father as if that was the only thing he had to prove his worth to others. The qualities for being a Slytherin aren't evil with an interest in the Dark Arts. They're ambition and a desire to prove yourself, and Draco had a lot of people he wanted to prove himself to, his father being the most prominent. I got that when Neville told me about the Carrows and I connected it the night on the tower. Draco was a scared, confused, lost little kid born to Death Eaters through no choice of his own. His father was in prison; his mother was under the thumb of one of the most evil, most powerful wizards of all time. He was raised to think one thing, but when it came down to the moment of truth, Draco lowered his wand. He couldn't do it. How different would it have gone if he'd have had real friends? People who could show him a different view of things?"

"That still doesn't mean Malfoy would have wanted a different view. If he's like you say he is..."

"I kind of dated him, Hermione. It might have only been two weeks, but I know him. All Draco wanted was someone to really care about him."

"So how did that come about, anyway? You dating him?"

Ron sighed.

"Well when I figured this all out—that we'd made the same mistakes with each other, that we were so much alike...I said that I didn't realize until then how much I depended on him. I looked at him to be the way he always was because the world was changing, I was changing, and everything was so crazy that at least Malfoy would always be the same, but he wasn't. I mean, he was the same as always, but I didn't realize we were the same before. That if our positions were reversed and I grew up in the Malfoy family...I think I'd be just like him, you know? So, honestly, I got angry."

------2.A------

The Dark Arts lesson with Amycus Carrow was something out of nightmare. Ron had no idea how Neville and the others managed to make their way here every week. Person after person went down the line, attempting to cast the Cruciatus curse on a thin, sickly Malfoy that wouldn't lift his head long enough to meet any eyes in the room. It felt perverse, watching Malfoy this way, chained to a wall, so exposed, awaiting the excruciating, unbearable pain the Cruciatus curse provided. He felt intense relief anytime someone cast the spell but it took no effect—the spiders from fourth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts were nothing compared the agony of the possibility that someone would manage it.

Ron thought he'd make it. He really did. Every second closer to the end of the lesson felt like a step closer to victory, and then it was Crabbe's turn. Malfoy didn't scream at first. At first, Ron didn't realize anything had happened except that beside him Neville tensed up and whispered, "I wish he wouldn't hold it in like that. It only makes them worse."

Ron looked closer. Malfoy's back was rod-straight. His head was still turned toward the ground, hair falling in his eyes, but instead of blankly staring ahead they were closed tight. His jaw was set, teeth gnashing together. Long fingers previously hanging loose were curled tight into fists. Crabbe just laughed, moved his wand away, and the tension of the remaining students became lax again until Theodore Nott stepped up. Malfoy's breathing was quiet but labored.

He didn't scream the second time, either, and it wasn't until Amycus Carrow pushed Nott aside, and said, "You all seem to be having trouble with the curse. This is how it should be done. Crucio," that Ron first heard those inhumane screams of agony. Malfoy thrashed against the manacles and chains that bound him to the wall, metal cutting into his thin wrists, and within seconds blood was trickling down his exposed skin.

"Stop!" screamed Neville. "Stop! You're killing him!"

Ron's grip on the desk behind him loosened as Neville's voice slashed through Malfoy's screams. His wand still trained on Malfoy, Carrow moved his head to see Neville. The sick bastard smiled.

"What's the matter, Longbottom? You want a turn?"

"Leave him alone," said Seamus.

"You too, Finnigan?"

"Might as well count me in," said Ron.

He stood from where he was sitting on the desk and strode forward. After all the Death Eater evasion when he was still with Harry and Hermione, this was nothing other than a regular day in the fight against You-Know-Who. Carrow, seemingly aware that Ron was ready to break his wand arm to stop Malfoy's screaming, lowered his wand. Malfoy took a long, heaving breath, jerked forward, and vomited on the classroom floor.

"Detention," said Carrow. "All three of you. You can show your concern for Mr. Malfoy by arriving here at eight o'clock tonight. Do not be late."

"Don't worry," said Neville. "We won't be."

-----2.B-----

Ron gawked at Neville as they walked to the Great Hall for lunch. Neville frowned.

"What?"

"Blimey, Neville, when did your bollocks get so big?"

Seamus snorted.

"You should've seen him a few weeks ago," said Seamus. "Neville's had it with the Carrows. Luna and Ginny are almost as bad."

"I don't like the Cruciatus curse, I don't like Death Eaters, and I don't care if it is Malfoy, I don't think that should happen to anyone."

"You know they're just going to torture us tonight now, right?"

"I don't care. I've had it with them. Harry's going to come back and finish it off; we just have to keep things going while he's gone so no one loses hope, right, Ron?"

"Harry...?"

"Yeah," said Neville. "Everyone's said he's run off into hiding, but I think he's planning something to take down You-Know-Who. The whole D.A. does."

"What makes you say that?"

"To start we figured Ginny wouldn't be determined if Harry had taken off into hiding, and you weren't surprised not to see him here, which means you must know where he's gone. He'd tell you, wouldn't he? You're best mates."

"Erm...yeah. I do know where Harry's gone, but..."

"Besides, Harry wouldn't just leave everyone to Snape and the Carrows. He's not that kind of person, so he must be doing something important, and since he can't do everything, we have to stand up to the Carrows so he can take care of You-Know-Who, right?"

"I suppose that's one way of looking at things."

"You still got your coin?"

"Come again?"

Neville fished in his pocket and produced the enchanted Galleon Hermione had given to all D.A. members when the organization was first established.

"We've been using them to communicate," said Seamus. "We've got to send a message to the rest of the D.A. tonight that we won't be able to meet up now that we've got detention and all."

"What's tonight?"

"We've been sneaking out," said Neville. "Putting graffiti on the walls about recruiting for Dumbledore's Army."

"It's driving Snape barmy," said Seamus.

"Not that we mind he hates it, of course."

"Of course," said Ron.

Truly, he was flabbergasted.

------2.C-----

Detention with Amycus Carrow explained why Seamus, Neville, Ginny, and Luna always looked so battered up. It was little more than being chained up to a wall while Amycus and his sister, Alecto, shot curses at them and left them to hang for several hours before being released and sent back to their dormitories. Seamus and Neville headed for the rendezvous point where the rest of the D.A. might have still been out promoting the word of Dumbledore's Army, but Malfoy headed in the other direction—the direction of the dungeons—and Ron found himself jogging after him.

"Malfoy, wait!"

He stilled in his steps but didn't turn. Ron paused, seeing him stand there, a million emotions conflicting within him. He made a mental note one day to tell Hermione his emotional range had the ability to expand beyond a teaspoon.

"You're an idiot," said Malfoy as Ron drew up beside him.

"Excuse me?"

"You're an idiot," Malfoy said again. "What do you want?"

"Why am I an idiot?"

"Getting yourself detention. Talking to me when you should be running back to your common room. Coming here to Hogwarts at all."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know why you didn't arrive on September first with the rest of us, but I know it wasn't Spattergroit, so if you went to so much trouble to not come here in the first place, you're an idiot for coming back."

Ron stared. Malfoy lifted his head this time and turned, his cold, grey eyes locking with Ron's. He took a step forward, and Ron felt the anger boiling in his blood to have Malfoy reproach him like this when all Ron wanted to do was...Well, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but it wasn't anything that would harm or hurt Malfoy. He just...

"So what do you want? I've asked twice now. I won't ask again."

"I...I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to see how you were doing. I..."

"Why? You hate me; I hate you. Mention the Carrows; lose a limb."

Ron stared. Why did he want to talk to Malfoy? Sure, he had recently come to the conclusion that they were very much alike, but that didn't mean they had to be friends. Maybe Ron wanted to reach out, unsettled by the treatment Malfoy was receiving, wanting to protect him or something, but that was surely something Malfoy would only rebuff.

"If you have nothing useful to say, then I best be heading back to my common room now. Thank you, Weasel, for wasting my time."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be. My time is valuable."

"No. I mean...I'm sorry for the way I've treated you over the years. I..."

Despite the bruises littering his face the way Malfoy scowled was intimidating.

"What are you blathering about, Weasel?"

"I...You're not who I thought you were."

Malfoy's upper lip curled.

"Oh? So who am I, Weasley? Please, enlighten me?"

Ron shifted his footing and bit his lower lip. He shrugged.

"You're like me."

"Like you? What a crock..."

"You are. We're alike. You're...You're no different from anyone else. There's no big secret to you. You're not evil. You try hard in school. You love your family." Ron almost laughed as his eyes met Malfoy's again. "You do your hair."

"Of course I do my hair. I'm not a heathen. Where are you going with this? That I'm relatively normal and well-adjusted? Well, what did you think I was?"

"I thought you and I were completely different. So different I couldn't even understand what it must be like to be you, and now...It must be hard. You couldn't exactly call Crabbe and Goyle friends. What Crabbe did to you today...My friends would never do that to me, and what you must be going through with the Carrows and your father..."

"Do not talk about my father, and what did I say about the Carrows? I don't want your pity, Weasel."

"Does that mean it is hard, then? Hard enough that you think someone like me could become privy to it and pity you?"

"I don't need pity. Keep it for Potter."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's supposed to mean he's got something a little harder to deal with than I do, okay? The Dark Lord isn't going to be easy to bring down, and that's where he is, isn't he? Out there somewhere, up to something, trying to bring the Dark Lord down. I've been around Potter too long to believe he's on the run, so that's it, isn't it? But I wonder why you aren't with him. I thought for sure that's where you and Granger had gone. Potty, Mudblood, and the Weasel to the end."

Ron shook his head. He even smiled a little.

"You can let down your defenses, Malfoy. I don't pity you."

"No, I can't. The Carrows are out to kill me. They won't do it outright, but that doesn't mean they can't play with the food before the Dark Lord eats it."

"Listen, Malfoy, it's true that I don't pity you. I just...I suppose what I'm trying to say is that up until now you've seemed pretty one-dimensional to me. I've never really thought anything might hurt your feelings or that you even really had them, but seeing you now...What Harry's told me..."

"What does Potter have to do with anything?"

Ron sighed.

"He was there. The night on the tower with you and Dumbledore under the invisibility cloak. He saw everything. Told me and Hermione everything." Malfoy broke eye contact at this point and turned away but Ron took a step closer. "I didn't realize how hard that must have been, and I want to apologize. I was raised to hate you for being a Malfoy and a Slytherin, and I shouldn't have been so quick to generalize. I think...I think you're probably nothing like your father. I still think you're kind of arrogant, and judgmental, and prejudiced, and mean..."

"You're such a charmer, Weasel. Wasn't this an apology?"

"But I also think with how perfect you always look you're just as critical of yourself as you are of everyone else. I think you're still prejudiced because no one's given you a reason not to be. I think you're intelligent and clever and have to be mean because people take advantage of you when you are nice."

"This is getting a little too touching for tastes. Could you move on with it?"

Ron didn't miss the hint of red that seeped into Malfoy's cheeks.

"I just wanted to say I was sorry for being a bigot, and a git, and prejudiced myself all these years. I'm sorry for laughing at you on the train."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"You're still worried about that?"

"Well I laughed at you because I meant to hurt your pride, and if I could change that, I would."

"That's very sentimental of you, but I really must go before Amycus of Alecto catch me out here with you. I don't fancy another detention."

Ron nodded.

"Okay. Have a good night."

Malfoy scoffed as he walked away. Just as Ron hadn't missed the red in Malfoy's cheeks, he didn't miss the half-glance back Malfoy made as he rounded the corner, either. Ron smiled and headed for Gryffindor tower.

-3-

"You actually said all of that?" said Hermione, gaping.

Ron toed the carpet with his shoe.

"Yeah, I did."

"What? Did you already fancy him?"

Ron shook his head.

"No. I just...I just realized how profoundly lonely his life must have been and I wanted to reach out to him. He needed friends. He needed someone to stand up for and protect him. His parents didn't, much as his mother loves him. She couldn't stand up to You-Know-Who and his father got him into the mess in the first place. I wanted to do something for him. It was kind of like you and the house elves at first. I couldn't just ignore someone being oppressed as he was without anyone there for him, so for whatever reason I set out to help him."

"But you didn't fancy him."

"I thought he was attractive, but I didn't really think of him that way."

"So how, exactly, did it go from being his friend to snogging him?"

"Hey, he started the snogging; not me."

Hermione gaped.

"But...didn't he...How?"

"Hermione, I'd have thought after a year together you'd know how people snog. It's the same for poofters as it is for the heteros, you know."

"Don't patronize me, Ronald. That's not what I meant and you know it."

Ron shrugged.

"I didn't really see him too much for the rest of the week. Sometimes I caught glance of him in the corridors, but he was usually with the other Slytherins, who were giving him a hard time, or one of the Carrows, who were even worse. It wasn't just physical stuff, y'know? They called him all sorts of things. Weak. Pathetic. Mocked him mercilessly. Muggle Studies was compulsory now, so I had to take it, and he was there, Alecto Carrow harassing him the whole time. She'd purposefully call on him for answers, prompt him to defend her teachings. Neville kept getting detentions for speaking out, but Draco just couldn't do. He couldn't just stand up to them.

"We had a D.A. meeting that night in the Room of Requirement. Neville wasn't living in there yet, but a lot of the D.A. members were still meeting up, and still hiding out in there sometimes. I was really far behind in my work being off with you and Harry so I decided to go to the library and start reading up in some of the books McGonagall recommended to catch up. Malfoy caught me on the fourth floor."

-----3.A-----

"Weasley!"

Ron had no idea what to expect when he heard Malfoy's voice calling his name. He looked around for the source when Malfoy caught the strap of his school bag from behind. Ron lost his balance for a moment, took a few steps back, and then the bag strap snapped, strewing books, quills, and inkwells across the floor. Ron looked at Malfoy; Malfoy was staring at the belongings looked somewhat aghast.

"I...I didn't mean...Why is everything you own rubbish?"

Ron groaned.

"I sometimes wonder that myself." Ron knelt down to collect his things, shoving them back into the torn bag. Malfoy dropped down beside him, waving his wand to repair broken inkwell and snapped quills. "You don't have to help."

"It's my fault. I can handle it."

Ron shrugged.

"So what did you want?"

Malfoy sighed. He thrust a stack of parchment at Ron.

"I thought about what you said."

"Okay..."

"I accept you apology."

Ron tried not to smile. He nodded.

"Thank you."

"Don't be so polite; it's annoying and not like you. Hit me or something."

"I don't want to hit you."

Malfoy scowled. He stared at Ron as he zipped up his bag, and before Ron knew it, Malfoy slapped him over the back of his head.

"What the hell was that for?!"

"You're not supposed to be polite! You think you know me?! I know you, too, Weasley, and it didn't take me the better part of my adolescence. You're not very bright. You follow Potter around like his puppy hoping to pick up a bit of recognition because you're so insecure you believe fate has deemed you to be the most insignificant of the Weasley lot. You've fancied Granger since third year, and good news for your thick head—she fancies you back. You have a short temper and violent tendencies. You're rude and insufferable and so blinkered I'm amazed you were able to come up with your own perceptions of me without Granger pointing it out to you."

Ron frowned.

"Is that all?"

"No! You're also an idiot! You'll do anything for Potter and Granger just because you're friends, which in my opinion is pretty stupid because you only get yourself hurt, but you keep doing it anyway so I suppose that makes you a good friend. You care about people. You have that stupid Gryffindor bravery that's going to get you killed against the Dark Lord, but I suppose it's a good quality. That doesn't make you any less stupid."

"I'm astounded how many times you've managed to call me stupid in such a short amount of time."

"It would astound you, wouldn't it? You're so stupid you probably didn't even understand half of what I just said."

Ron rubbed the back of his head where Malfoy had slapped him.

"I think you were trying to reciprocate the feelings of admiration I expressed to you. You did very poorly, but I think that's what you were trying to do."

"What would you know? How was that so easy for you to do, anyway? It's not easy for me, and you...You're supposed to be the one who loses his composure and doesn't know what you're talking about it. That's not me. You aren't supposed to do this. That's not how this works, Weasley."

"Not how what works?"

Malfoy seemed to calm a bit, still sitting in the middle of a fourth floor corridor. He stared at the ground.

"You're not supposed to unsettle me. It works the other way around."

"I've unsettled you?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"You're so thick, Weasley. Merlin, I don't know how Granger puts up with you."

Ron shrugged.

"Not much better than you are right now."

Malfoy scoffed and looked away. He continued to snarl but his body was relaxing. Ron ventured placing a hand on Malfoy's shoulder. He didn't swat it away.

"Why did you tell me all those things? Why did you apologize to me? So what if it's true? What does it change?"

"I don't know. I think I just...wanted you to know...or something. I think I want to be friends."

"Friends," said Malfoy, scoffing again. "It'll be a cold day in hell before we're friends, Weasley. Anyway, you already have friends, which brings me to the point. Why aren't you with them? Is your being here part of the plan?"

Ron sighed.

"No...We had a row. Harry and me. Over what we were doing against You-Know-Who. We said a whole lot of things we shouldn't have said, pulled our wands on each other, and then Hermione stepped in so we didn't kill each other. I took off and came here."

"You pulled your wand on Potter?"

Ron frowned. He dropped back to lean against the corridor wall beside Malfoy.

"Yeah. I was going to go back after it happened but I walked into a group of Snatchers and by the time I made it back to the site they were already gone."

"Are you going to try again?"

"Course. I just...I don't know how to find them yet."

"You really are an idiot."

"Thanks, Malfoy."

"Are you sure you weren't just siphoning your needs to apologize to Potter and Granger off on me?"

"Doubt it. I was rather hoping you'd have fallen off the face of the planet by the time I got here."

Malfoy snorted.

"Sad as it is, I think that'd make you and me both happy."

"Things with the Carrows are that terrible?"

"Not just the Carrows. I mean, yeah, they're awful. Hate it here with them, but I don't want to go home either. My home has become Death Eater headquarters of sorts. I spent the summer holiday with the Dark Lord coming in and out. I expect it's only a matter of time before he kills my entire family, but he needs me in school right now to keep up appearances. If we don't do something to win over his favor, anyway."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"I suppose. Whether or not I'll answer isn't determined, but you can try."

"Did you ever want to be a Death Eater?"

Malfoy sighed and turned his eyes up to the high ceiling.

"Yes. For my father. Never for me, but I wanted to make him proud. He didn't exactly abuse me or anything, but you know, he's my father, and he expects a lot out of his only heir. He always had a lot of work so I learned early on to equate money with love instead of affection. I don't doubt that my father does love me—my mother as well—it just so happens that he made a lot of mistakes. I'm angry at him for getting me into this, but I can't hate him. I don't want him to die.

"I know I talked a lot about my father and the Dark Lord, but I...I didn't really think he'd come back. I thought I could get out of it, and if I couldn't I thought it'd be easier to kill someone. I thought it'd be easier to see, but I don't handle it very well. It's...I don't know how he could've done it. I can't. I can hardly watch someone tortured without passing out."

"So now that you are one, you don't want to be?" said Ron.

"I'm not a Death Eater, exactly, but I'm on the inside because of my father, and no, I don't want to be. I want out, but I can't. All I can do is hope Potter defeats him and that he does it before I die."

"You could get out. You could fight for the other side."

Draco laughed and shook his head.

"That'd be impossible to hide. I mean, sure, I could probably hide it from the Dark Lord for a pretty long time—I'm not a bad Occlumens—but he'd find out, and I'd be dead anyway. I couldn't just run off. He'd know where to find me. I can promise you, though, that I would never help them hand Potter, you, or Granger over to the Dark Lord. Never. You're all my last real hope."

Ron sighed, staring up at the ceiling, turning Draco's words over in his head. He opened his mouth, intent on breaking the silence, but Draco spoke first.

"I'm sorry, too. For everything."

Ron smiled.

"Apology accepted."

"Is there somewhere we can go alone? Where the Carrows won't be able to find us?"

The Room of Requirement came to Ron's mind. He nodded.

"Sure."

"Lead me there?"

Ron nodded again.

-4-

"I'm sorry, Ron, but I don't see how this is leading to snogging at all," said Hermione, leaning back against the sofa and rubbing her cheek. "You just seem to be detailing every encounter you had with Malfoy around the time. I know I said I wanted a full explanation, but this is a little much."

"No, really, it's important because I took him to the Room of Requirement. We talked a lot about You-Know-Who at his house and I showed him the Deluminator. He promised to help me figure out how to get back to you and Harry. I told him a bit about what was going on with Harry up until the point I left."

"Ron!"

"Not about the horcruxes. Just that we were looking for something Dumbledore sent us to find that might finish You-Know-Who off. Told him about the row being that I thought we'd have more clues on where to find it but instead we were just running around the woods playing Hide and Seek while I had to freeze, starve, and live with my mangled arm. He laughed when I told him you splinched me."

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well..."

"It was really great. We were getting along. It was..."

"It was...? It was what?"

Ron sighed.

-----4.A-----

For whatever reason, when using the Room of Requirement it seemed to think that what Ron and Draco required for this outpour of stories and camaraderie was a cozy little room with a fire burning in a hearth, one small plushy sofa, and a large, elegantly designed bed. Ron chose to ignore this; Draco followed suit, though he seemed awfully nervous, continuously casting glances toward the large piece of furniture.

Hours passed long after they should have been back in their common rooms just talking about everything up until the point they were at. It was almost like they were friends—as if they had never had such an intense and bitter rivalry. Draco wasn't exactly pleasant, but he was straightforward. He laughed a little, smiled a little, and Ron found himself eager to make Draco laugh and smile more, irritating as he was through half of their conversation.

"You know," said Draco, staring into the fire, "ordinarily I could have never been persuaded to make a truce with you just because of some silly little apology."

"So why did you?"

Draco shrugged.

"It's been a hard year. I think...I think you're the first person I've really been able to talk to about any of it."

"So you don't hate me anymore?"

"I...I wouldn't say I never hated you. I definitely did at one point, but somewhere along the way—fifth year, maybe—that stopped. My father ordered me to join Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad. I was angry at him. Up until then...You know how it was. You heard stories about the Dark Lord, but it wasn't really real until then—until the Dark Lord came back. My father had never really been a Death Eater, not actively, anyway, for as long as I could remember."

"Except for the basilisk second year, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"Tom Riddle's diary. You-Know-Who's diary that opened up the Chamber of Secrets. It possessed my sister."

"Yes, I know. What's my father got to do with it?"

"Your father's the one who planted it on my sister! Whaddaya mean what's he got to do with it?"

Draco frowned.

"He did not."

"Are you kidding me? You didn't know? He didn't tell you?"

Draco stared back at the fire.

"Obviously not. I had no idea."

"Oh. I'm..."

"You see? It's things like that. Keeping things from me. Just because I'm pureblood doesn't mean I wasn't in danger of the basilisk, too. How could he...and not even tell me! At least then I could've properly kept my guard up, but...And then the Dark Lord came back and he was just gone because he was needed. I had to join Umbridge to keep up appearances, help discredit Potter, but I knew the truth."

"But you attacked him. When you father went to Azkaban, you..."

"Course I did, and think about it, Weasley. What happened a month later? I knew it was coming when I found out, and I was furious with Potter for getting my father locked up because I knew."

"What happened a month later?"

"The Dark Lord charged me with the task of killing Dumbledore. If I failed, me, my parents, we were all dead. If I succeeded...well, I don't really think he considered what would happen if I succeeded. He expected me to die in the process. And I knew as soon as I heard my father was in Azkaban that the Dark Lord would call on me to atone for my father's mistake.

"I haven't been able to really hate you for ages, Weasley. No offense, but it's been too insignificant. I've had to worry about my father, a Dark Lord, and strategizing ways to off Dumbledore. All I've been able to care about since the Dark Lord came back was making it through alive, and I refuse to go to Azkaban. I didn't want this. I didn't choose to be a Death Eater; it was forced upon me. I didn't feel I had an option. What's going to happen when this is all over, though, huh? When I've been fighting with the Death Eaters just so they don't kill me? Who's going to believe me then?"

"I will. Harry, too, and together we can probably persuade Hermione."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Isn't that just the dog's bollocks? Saved by the fabulous Gryffindor trio."

"Don't mock me. I want to help."

"Since when?"

"Since now."

"Since your profound revelation, you mean. Thanks, Weasley. You're a real gentleman."

Ron frowned.

"Don't mention it."

Draco sighed.

"I appreciate it. I just don't what it's going to get you, or me, for that matter. It isn't going to change anything. I still have to fight with the Death Eaters. I have no choice or I'll be killed. I'm not ready to die."

"I know, but at least I can help keep you out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who's defeated, can't I?"

"Why would you do that? Because I'm not one-dimensional."

"No. Because it's not fair to send you to Azkaban when all you've done wrong is protect yourself."

Draco crossed his arms and huffed.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"That humble thing doesn't work on me. I hope you know that."

"What humble thing? I'm just…"

"The Slytherin Outreach Program you've single-handedly established hasn't yet caused me to swoon, either."

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?"

Draco huffed again. He tapped his upper arm with his index finger as he scowled into the fire, frowning.

"I'm going on about your sudden urge to play Gryffindor Ambassador of Peace. I don't know what you're getting out of this exchange you've initiated with me, but if you think I'm going to pass you information about the Dark Lord, I want you to know I value my life more than that."

"I'm not trying to get you to do anything! You're paranoid."

"If you were in my position, you'd be paranoid, too."

Ron sighed.

"I don't want anything from you, okay? I just…You're unsettling me. You're not acting like yourself, and I want to do something about it. It's…I reckon it's just one more thing that isn't normal right now, and I don't like it."

"If that's all you want I'd be happy to call Granger a Mudblood and inquire as to the sorry state of your family's Gringotts account."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? Do you think you're the only one having a hard time coming to terms with how different everything is right now? You're different, too, you know, and it isn't unsettling me any less than I am you. If the state of things in the world right now is really what's bothering you so much I suggest you go back to kissing Potter's feet and I'll return to my life of Death Eater servitude. How does that suit you?"

Draco stood, gave Ron a scathing look, and stalked toward the door. Ron was on his feet and after him before he even knew why, catching Draco by the arm as they reached the exit.

"Wait…"

"I can't do this, okay?"

Draco's face was flushed as he ripped his arm from Ron's grip and took a few steps back. Ron frowned and closed the space between them again, but Draco continued to step away until his back was flush against the door with nowhere to go.

"You can't do what? I just…"

"You just want to help or something, but you can't. I don't want it. I don't want this. I…"

"You can let people help you sometimes. It's okay if you do."

"That's not…That's not what it is."

"Then what?"

Draco stared at the floor for what felt like several minutes but had really only been a few seconds and then met Ron's eyes for the briefest fraction of time before he closed the rest of the space between them. It came sudden and unexpected, the light pressure of Draco's lips pressed against Ron's. Ron didn't react at first—all coherent thought seemed to have left his mind, and all he could really register was that Draco Malfoy was kissing him before he managed to recuperate and kissed him back.

It was one of those moments that feel as if time is standing still, but as that isn't ever the case the kiss ended just as suddenly and unexpectedly as it began. Ron's heart pounded against his ribcage as he tried to catch his breath. Draco's face was still flushed as they stared at each other, not speaking, and then Draco turned away.

"That was…" said Ron.

"I can't believe I just did that," said Draco, softly, almost muttering to himself. He spun back toward Ron. "Do you see why I can't do this?"

"Not exactly. I'm still not sure what snogging me has to do with anything, though."

"Nothing. Never mind. I need to go."

"Wait! I don't understand…You…"

Draco mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "You're such an idiot." Ron chose to let it slide.

"Don't go yet, okay?" said Ron.

Draco turned back. He released a long breath and shrugged, offering a defeated glare.

"Okay."

"What just happened there?"

"I don't know. I don't understand what's going on with me any better than you do. All I know is that I'm highly emotional, confused, and ever since you offered that pitiful apology I've wanted to kiss you. So there you go."

"Are you gay?"

Draco actually rolled his eyes as he brushed past Ron and dropped back onto the small sofa.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No! I just…didn't expect…"

"You weren't the only drooling over Krum fourth year, you know."

"I wasn't drooling…wait. What?"

"Nothing. Can we just forget this ever happened?"

"No. I want…I don't want to forget."

"That makes one of us, then."

"I'm confused, too, you know. You just kissed me and now you want me to forget about it? And you're gay!"

"I'm so sorry my sexual preference is such a confusing issue for you. Can we move on now?"

"I just don't know what to do. You kissed me, and I'm…"

"Straight, yes, I know. I was among the better part of the Hogwarts population subjected to the mutual molestations between you and Lavender Brown last year. Doubt that's an image I'll ever be able to properly rid myself of."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"You sure do like to talk about your feelings a lot."

"I just don't know what to do because I want to kiss you again, okay?"

Draco's eyebrows rose. He snorted.

"I see. So you just like snogging. Doesn't really matter if it's a girl or a bloke. Well, I suppose since Granger fancies Potter over you, you were bound to latch on to the next person who showed an interest. Lucky me."

"Why do you have to be so sarcastic about it? I'm trying to be honest here."

"Because I don't want to do this. You're mixed up about Granger right now, and I don't want some misplaced affections pushed onto me. Just because I want to kiss you doesn't mean I want you to kiss me back."

"I already did."

"And I ended it, so I feel the best course of action is to just forget about it and move on."

Without knowing why Ron had closed the distance between them again, and now he sat on the empty seat by Draco, studying the contours of his facial expressions closely. What he found there surprised him. Draco's features were actually a lot softer than he remembered them being—so sharp and cold in his head. There was a simplistic beauty in the curve of his lips that didn't seem capable of all the harsh and abusive words that had so frequently come from his tongue over the years. Steel-grey eyes that were usually hard and removed met his from the corner of his eye and Draco squirmed.

"What are you staring at?" Draco snapped.

This time it was Ron who initiated the kiss.

-5-

"I think this has to be the most unromantic story I've ever heard," said Hermione. "Please tell me you're breaking off our engagement for something a little better than this."

Ron shrugged.

"I don't know. It was what it was. I don't really think I even fancied him yet; I just wanted to do something for him. It went on like that for the next two weeks. We met up in the Room of Requirement. We talked a lot. We snogged a lot. We weren't really dating, and we didn't say we were, but there was something between us. At the very least, Draco never tried to stop it again. I started to feel excited whenever I was going to see him, and then when he was there, I'd be nervous. Ginny kept asking about where I was sneaking off to, but I didn't tell her anything. The Carrows kept causing a lot of trouble for Draco, and whenever they did I just got angrier and angrier.

"I really wanted to find a way to get back to you and Harry. Draco was suffering so badly from all the verbal and physical abuse the Carrows were putting on him. I wanted the war to end so things could be simpler. I really started falling for Draco. He was really reluctant, but in the end he told me so much about his family and life up until that point—he really opened up, even if he did say it all with about a thousand insults and threats.

"Nothing really changed over the two weeks in our actions. My emotions were really out of control. I wasn't sure what was happening or how I was changing or why. I just knew I really liked snogging Malfoy, I fancied him, and I was starting to really fall for him. It was scary for me. And then…"

Hermione sighed.

"And then?"

"And then Christmas Eve came. It was late afternoon. Draco and I weren't going to see each other until Christmas, but I was in the Room of Requirement anyway trying to avoid Ginny and all her questions. Draco came running in—something about the Carrows being after him and needing a place to hide.

"At first nothing was different…"

-----5.A-----

"You know what I could really use?" said Draco.

"What's that?"

Ron lay back on the sofa, feet kicked up on the armrest, legs stretched out over Draco's lap. Draco smirked and smacked Ron's legs.

"Firewhisky."

"Firewhisky?"

"Yes. I think after the day I've had between my housemates and Alecto Carrow's insane rampages I'd like to be pissed more than anything."

"And where, exactly, are you getting firewhisky?"

"I've got some in my bag if you'll move your fat legs long enough for me to get it."

Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Do you always carry alcoholic beverages around school with you?"

"Don't be stupid. Father sent it for Christmas. I just haven't found the time to take it back to my dormitory yet."

"You father sends you alcoholic beverages for holidays?"

"Not really, but he must have received it as a gift, deemed Ogden's not posh enough for him, and sent it to me as to avoid one of the less picky Death Eaters at the estate from becoming pissed off it instead. I appreciate it. He must realize the Carrows would have me close to committing suicide by now. So move your legs and transfigure us some glasses or something."

Ron sat up and grabbed his wand from a small table by the sofa as Draco moved to his bag.

"If you don't want to answer you don't have to, but I was wondering…Why aren't you going home for Christmas this year? You usually do."

"I told my parents that McGonagall is giving me trouble in Transfiguration and I promised to make up some work I received unjustly low marks on over holidays. I'm sure they know I simply don't want to be around all the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord, but as my father seems to be regretting his decision to join the Death Eaters as well they didn't argue with me. I had to promise I'd be home for Easter holiday, but as far as Christmas is concerned I'm off the hook. At least Easter holiday is shorter."

Draco returned to the sofa and took the two glasses Ron offered, filling them both about half-way. He set the bottle on the floor and leaned back against the couch cushions, holding his glass out to Ron.

"Cheers."

Ron grinned.

"Cheers."

Their glasses briefly clanked together and Ron took a long shot of the firewhisky, wincing as it burned down his throat as he tossed his head back.

"Is it masochistic that I like the burn of firewhisky?" said Draco.

Ron snorted.

"Maybe. So…your father. He seems to be regretting becoming a Death Eater?"

"I reckon it was bound to happen eventually. It was all well and good before but now he's been to Azkaban, the Dark Lord wants him and his entire family dead, and Greyback is terrorizing all of father's peacocks. Wish he would've figured this out sooner, though."

Ron was thankful he hadn't taken a sip of the firewhisky then. He laughed so hard it was sure to have shot straight from his nose if he had.

"Peacocks?"

Draco smiled.

"Yes. My father keeps peacocks at Malfoy Manor. He loves them. They're almost as arrogant as he is."

"Well there's an image I never thought I'd have."

The smile on Draco's face flitted there for several moments and then his face grew somber. He swirled the last of the firewhisky around in his glass and finished it off before moving to fill another glass.

"You're moving fast."

"I told you my goal is to be completely pissed."

"What's wrong?"

Draco shrugged.

"War. Hiding. The Dark Lord living at my house. Pick a topic and I'll tell you what's wrong with it."

"Us."

Draco snorted.

"There isn't an us. We're not even really friends. We just…We know each other. We talk. Sometimes we get caught up in heavy snogging sessions, and I really like them, but even they can't last. Eventually we're going to figure out a way for you to get back to Granger and Potter. You'll be on your side; I'll be on my side. I might even have to fight you. You'll go off, marry Granger, and have a litter of Weasley demons. I'll marry a nice, pureblood girl, produce an heir, and sleep with blokes at gentleman's clubs on the weekend. That will be that."

"It doesn't have to be like that."

"We have certain things that are expected of us. We need to live up to them."

"We have to make our own path."

"Say that now but what happens six months from now when you're fighting the Dark Lord and I'm fighting with him? How will you look at me then? Granger isn't in love with Potter. Everyone except maybe you knows she fancies you. It's going to work out for you, and maybe I'll avoid Azkaban and get a chance at what's expected of me. I'd like at least that much."

Ron sighed.

"Pour me another glass."

Draco shook his head as he accepted the cup and refilled.

-----5.B-----

An empty bottle of firewhisky lay strewn on its side across the red and silver carpet in the Room of Requirement, halfway shoved under a small plushy sofa. Two empty glasses lay overturned beside it. The fire in the hearth was at a full roar as two bodies lay intertwined before it.

Draco's face was buried in Ron's neck as Ron's fingers raked through platinum blond hair. Ron's breath was heavy and languid as Draco's lips brushed down his neck and across his collarbone pecking at every inch of exposed skin they could find. His hand fell from Draco's hair to run along the length of his spine before settling on his arse, giving it a pull, and their hips came flush against each other. Draco released a small groan and shuddered.

"I've never snogged anyone drunk before," said Ron.

"You never snogged anyone while you were drunk or while they were drunk?"

"Either. Both." Draco's tongue curled behind Ron's ear and then around the shell. "Merlin, Draco, that feels amazing."

"Good."

At the first opportunity when Draco pulled his head back just enough, Ron lifted his head from the ground and caught Draco's mouth with his own. He ran his index finger along Draco's cheekbone and down his neck before cupping the back of Draco's head and he sighed into the kiss.

"I don't want this to end."

"Me either."

Though neither one commented further, both knew they meant more than just tonight—more than just sloppy, drunken kisses. Desperation seemed to be coursing through Ron as if time were running out and he needed to be as close to Draco as physically possible before the chance was over and gone. It was without hesitation that he pulled Draco's body down to rest, draped over his own. It was with inexperience, clumsy fingers that he managed to work the heather grey sweater off Draco's torso. The moans and groans at their bare torso's pressed together minutes later when Ron worked his own sweater over his head broke Draco, and there it was.

"There is a bed, you know," said Draco, his voice low, husky, and all Ron could do was nod as the moved across the room.

-6-

"Okay! Okay! You can't stop there!" Hermione screamed, her voice shrill. "I get it!"

Ron cleared his throat.

"Yeah. So we shagged. We fell asleep. We woke up the next morning, had hangovers, were properly anxious around each other, and then we shagged again. Course the next day was Christmas, and you know what happened then."

Hermione's face, twisted from the knowledge that her former fiancé had shagged Draco Malfoy, became lax.

"What do you mean?"

"Well that was the day I figured out the Deluminator. He told me to go back to you and Harry, that our time was over, and I kissed him and left. I didn't really want to. I mean…I did. I wanted the war to be over. I wanted to come back and help you and Harry. I wanted my family safe and the Carrows out of Hogwarts. I just…I didn't really understand that I was falling in love with Draco, but I knew I didn't want to leave just yet. I knew something was going on between us—something big, but he didn't really give me an option. Next thing I knew my Spattergroit had returned and whatever was going on with me and Draco was over. I didn't see him again until Greyback caught us and took us to Malfoy Manor."

"Oh…Ron…"

"When I saw him there—still afraid, still…I don't know. I knew he was right. Our time was over and even though we never talked about it, I knew we weren't ever going to tell anyone what had happened. It was just something that had happened, so when I saw him at the Manor I didn't expect anything out of him. It still hurt, though, to see him no matter how hard I was trying to forget or to stop loving him and love you instead."

Ron took a deep breath.

"When we saw him at the manor I knew he had to recognize us. You remember how he wouldn't confirm it was us? He just turned away and muttered that maybe it was us, he couldn't be sure….?"

Hermione nodded.

"Yeah. Bad as we looked I thought for sure…Lucius sure thought it was us."

"Right. Everyone did so Draco had to have known it was, but he didn't say for sure. I thought at the time that he just didn't want You-Know-Who to return to the Manor, didn't want to chance making a mistake, but looking back on it…"

"He wasn't selling you out," said Hermione. "He promised he wouldn't, and he didn't."

"Yeah. And then when we saw him at Hogwarts….He wanted You-Know-Who gone just as much as the rest of us did. I didn't like the way he was behaving, but I understood. He had his own life to protect just as much as the rest of us did, and the lives of his parents. He did what he had to, and when the war was over, Harry and I kept him out of Azkaban for that reason."

"So what now? The war's over. Why didn't you go back to him sooner?"

Ron laughed.

"I thought that was obvious. Something between us had already started. I wasn't about to run off with Draco, and besides…" Ron shrugged. "I was scared. I thought maybe for him it was just something that happened when things were really bad and we could never go back. I was still really confused about my feelings for him."

"So why now? I mean…"

"I saw Draco last week. He was at the Ministry taking care of some paperwork finalizing the end of his probation term. I couldn't help it. I just had to say something to him so I said hello, we started talking, and the next thing I knew I was telling him I still loved him."

Hermione offered a sad smile.

"What did he say?"

"That he heard we were engaged. Then he left."

Hermione sighed.

"So…"

"So…I can't do this. I can't marry you because I'm in love with him, and it's not fair to either one of us. I want to be with him. Maybe he won't have me, but I have to try. It's better than just getting married and wondering. I don't want to do that to myself, and I really don't think it's fair to do it to you, either. It's not fair what I've done to us both already."

Hermione stared at the floor. She shrugged.

"I suppose it's not really fair to Malfoy, either, is it?"

Ron shook his head.

"No. It's not."

"Well…Don't move out just yet. I'm sure you don't want to go back to the Burrow, you won't want to intrude on Harry and Ginny, and it's a little soon to be moving in with Malfoy if he takes you so just stay here. We'll move your things into the guest room or something."

Ron smiled.

"Really?"

"Yes. I reckon you ought to go after Malfoy, then. It is a Friday night."

"Really?"

"Really. I can't stop you from doing what you want. There are a few stipulations, though, in repayment for stringing me along for a year."

Ron's face fell.

"Stipulations? Like what?"

"Like if you're going to shag him here, please keep it down. I don't want to see Malfoy's naked arse walking around the flat, so don't let him go anywhere without clothes, and warn me if he's going to be in the shower. Oh, yes, and you have to tell Harry yourself. I'm not going to help you on that one."

Ron frowned.

"I'm okay with the first few, but what do you mean I have to tell Harry by myself?"

"You heard me. Do you want my support or not? You're telling Harry on your own."

"You're so mean."

"No, I'm not. Mean would be going after Malfoy and causing a scene about how he stole my fiancé. Mean would be setting those birds on you again. Mean would be…"

"Okay, already, I get it."

For the first time since coming home, Hermione slipped off her coat and hung it in a nearby closet. She walked in the direction of the kitchen, and as she passed Ron, patted him on the shoulder.

"Now go out and find Malfoy or bother Harry or something. I'm going to go have dinner, take a shower, cry into my tea, and retire to bed early. If you could give me some time alone to do these things until, say, Monday, I'd appreciate it."

Ron frowned and stuffed his hands in his pocket.

"Hermione…I'm sorry."

"I know you are. Now get out of here."

Ron sighed and grabbed his coat from the closet.

-Epilogue-

Snow fell from the sky as Draco Malfoy stared out the window of the small flat, noisy commotion in the background hardly noticeable until a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist and Ron's lips pressed to his cheek by his ear. Draco shuddered.

"The tree's almost up," said Ron. "Hermione's made cocoa."

"It's not exactly firewhisky, is it?" said Draco.

Ron shrugged, pulling Draco closer to him and he pressed his hips against Draco's arse.

"We don't really need firewhisky, do we? I think this is better for our first real Christmas together."

Draco smirked.

"If you're a cocoa and tinsel kind of person."

"And you're not?"

"I'm more of a firewhisky and shagging kind of person."

"I reckon the shagging can be arranged at least."

Draco laughed.

"So you're a cocoa and shagging kind of person."

"Will that suffice?"

Draco overlapped Ron's arms with his own and allowed his head to fall back against Ron's shoulder. He nodded.

"That'll do."

As I've previously stated, this story took me a month to write, which is why I haven't been around for a month if you ready any of my Kingdom Hearts fic. If you don't read my Kingdom Hearts fic, the good news for you is that writing this for a month has me in such a RonxDraco headspace right now it's almost ridiculous. Took me a good deal of work to switch gears from one fandom to the next and though I'm not out of my KH mode, the RonxDraco mode is currently in full force. I might even go work on those two unfinished series sitting on my computer right after I post this. I didn't realize how much I missed writing this pairing.

Anyway, I hope everyone had a good (and safe!) holiday season regardless of what you celebrate (or don't celebrate at all). Thanks for reading.

Love.