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The Ferret and The Weasel (Lia & Aislashu)

He just rolled his eyes and rolled up his parchment. He obviously didn't want to go to Hogsmeade. What was the point? He couldn't afford anything. Didn't really want anything. Yet he found himself yanking on his cloak over his Weasley sweater anyway. He didn't know why he was going, or letting himself go along, he could just as easily have been stubborn and refused to go, made it difficult for Draco.

But, there he was, standing by the room's exit with his arms crossed, glowering at Draco as he waited.
 
"Are you really that bloody upset about getting out of the castle for a while?" Draco asked, exiting the room and heading towards the main gates of the school. "No matter where we go here, people are going to stare at us and whisper behind our backs. At least Hogsmeade will be pretty empty." It was the first day of the holiday. Most students were sleeping in, or avoiding doing any sort of physical activity. "Be human about it and I'll share my Honeydukes stash." Draco made a mental note to hide some away so that he'd actually get some of the treats he bought, though.

They walked a bit more, finally leaving the school grounds. "Aren't you tired of fighting?" the blond suddenly asked, but not really sure where it came from or why he'd actually spoken the thought.
 
"It's not being out of the castle." He just shook his head. "It's not like you'd ever understand, Malfoy. So forget it, okay? I'm going, aren't I?" He stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking along next to the blond. He stared at the ground, until his head whipped up in shock at the blond's question.

He actually stopped in his tracks, so caught off guard. He stared at the boy, then shrugged.

"Sometimes," he said, looking away. "But as you're typically who starts it, why are you asking?" he frowned.
 
Figuring the redhead would eventually catch up with him, Draco continued walking. "Just enjoy the day then, Weasley. It's nice out, at least." They could have been stuck with this punishment over Christmas, when it had been frigid and sleeted for most of the holiday. He shrugged, though, with Weasley's own question. "You just seem disappointed when I don't rise to the bait sometimes." He wouldn't argue the point that he was the one who always started it. If Weasley felt better believing that, then let him believe it.

They entered the village a short time later, and Draco was relieved that he'd been right about it being mostly clear of students. He lead them to Scrivenshaft's first and made quick work of everything he needed. "I need to go to Gladrags. Did you want to come?" There wasn't anyone here to spy on them and tattle if they split apart for a little while.
 
Ron didn't say always, he had said typically, and generally it was the truth. It was always a comment about his family, or his lack of money, or being in Harry's shadow that would get him to rise. Sure, Ron would instigate it sometimes, but it was nothing compared to how often the snide remark came his way first, or Harry or Hermione's way.He just shrugged at Draco's words and did catch up.

"Kinda have to. Merlin knows who they have making sure of it. Rather not risk it or we'll probably have to bloody shower together," he huffed, falling into step beside the blond.
 
"hmm.." Draco hummed in thought, though probably not for the reasons Weasley thought he was. Draco was, in reality, picturing having to shower with the redhead. It wouldn't really be such a hardship, if he were being honest. And the irony of that thought struck him when he realized that he would have a panic attack if made to share a bed with the other wizard. He pushed that away for the more enjoyable mental images that he was treating himself to as they made their way towards the robes shop.

Entering, Draco moved to the right where the school robes were stored and began to sift through them. He took out three in his size and then moved on to the more casual ones, sifting through those more carefully. The blond also picked a couple that were slightly too large for him and mixed them into the pile without thinking about it too much. If he did, he knew he'd ruin his own day.
 
Ron didn't say anything more, standing near the entrance of the shop and just looking around. He was thinking about the question Draco had asked him, and was wondering. He knew there had to be more behind it, he just wasn't sure what. Finally, he moved through the racks to catch up to Draco.

A bit slow on the uptake, perhaps, but he did finally ask, "What about you, then? Are you tired of it?" He paused again, then, "Why me, anyway? Why focus on me instead of Harry? He's the Boy Who Lived, and all that rubbish."

Bitter? Maybe a little. Ron would never admit it out loud, but one reason he sort of liked the fighting? The attention, the focus, was on him for once, not on Harry.
 
Looking up, Draco laid another robe across his arm and moved to the next rack, pondering the question. "Sometimes," he answered, adding the pajamas and robe to the pile that he'd thought of the previous night, and added a pair of slippers, too. "You're easy." The blond moved to the counter and laid out his purchases. "Can these be delivered to Hogwarts? You can deduct their cost from the Malfoy vault eight-oh-four." The clerk nodded and Draco turned back to the redhead. "You get riled up more easily, and fight back; that's what entertains me, mostly. Potter has no passion and is more likely to roll his eyes and walk away." He lead the way out of the shop and towards Honeydukes. "Everyone expects us to fight. I guess everyone would expect that of me and Potter if snake-face were still around."

Entering the sweet shop, Draco breathed in deeply and smiled a rare, genuine smile. He wasted no time in gathering a basket to hold everything he was planning on purchasing.
 
"Joys of being a redhead, apparently," he huffed, frowning and crossing his arms. He was really paying no attention to what Draco was purchasing, though he about choked on his tongue when the boy was given the total. "Bloody hell, do you need a new wardrobe?" he ogled, surprised.

"I suppose..." Ron frowned still, following Draco out into Honeydukes. "Do you have friends?" he asked suddenly.

He actually cursed himself then, shaking his head and feeling his ears go red. "That came out wrong, I mean.." he flushed. "Like...friends. Not, well...goons, like Crabbe and Goyle."

Ron felt like he was digging his grave even deeper, trying to explain what he meant.
 
Draco just hummed thoughtfully without answering, and moved towards the sugar quills and Ice Mice. He moved around Honeydukes slowly, taking his time and inspecting everything. "They are my friends, Weasley," he answered without looking at him. "Don't presume to know the dynamics of my relationships." A box of Bertie Botts, and a handful of chocolate frogs went into the basket. "Do you think before you spew words?" the blond countered. Draco added Chocoballs, Fizzing Whizbees, some licorice Wands and several bars of Honeydukes best dark chocolate. Looking over his shoulder, the blond raised an eyebrow. "Don't whine when you don't have anything you like."
 
Ron rolled his eyes, though he couldn't bring himself to believe the blond's words.

"If you say so," was all Ron really said, not pushing the subject. It had been a bit personal, after all. His eyes were drawn to the chocolate frogs, but flicked away again. He narrowed his eyes at Draco's question about thinking first, but bit his retort, considering he'd cursed himself after asking it.

"Why would I? It's yours, not mine."

He stared as the basket got more full with each passing second.

"Gonna leave anything for everyone else in the store?" he grinned a bit.
 
Draco caught the flick of the redhead's eyes to the chocolate frogs and just shook his head. The blond emptied the display into the basket and kept moving. "I don't hear the store complaining." He headed back to the sugar quills and added a few more to his basket, nodding when he took inventory. With Weasley, this would last until at least Wednesday. The order was rung up and packaged for travelling.

"Thirty galleons, fifteen sickles and four knuts, please." He gave the same vault number and took the bags, handing one off to Weasley.

"Your frogs weigh the most, so you can carry them." The day was warm now, with the sun beating down on them, and Draco was content to walk in silence. He always enjoyed shopping, and it had released the pent up anxiety that this entire situation had caused.
 
Ron's eyes nearly flew out of his head when Draco decided to literally empty the display of the Chocolate Frogs. He made an odd little sound in the back of his throat at the total, shaking his head in awe. Suddenly a bag was stuffed in his arms and he opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't Malfoy's pack mule when the blond's words sunk in.

"Wait...my...? What?" he blinked, turning to follow along after Draco, holding the bag and practically stunned speechless.
 
He looked over his shoulder. "Did you, or did you not, hear me when I stated earlier that I would share whatever stash I bought at Honeydukes?" Really, it was no wonder Weasley wound up in Gryffindor: all brawn and absolutely zero brains. "You stood inside that shop, next to the display, with your eyes and hands twitching towards it as if you were five. If you wanted some other sort of sweet, you should have spoke up when asked." Was it really that hard of a concept to grasp? Draco supposed it was, since the redhead was having such troubles.
 
"I didn't exactly believe you," Ron huffed. "And this is...rather a lot more than sharing," he murmured. It's definitely loads more than he's ever had in his life. "Er..thanks. Even if you're being a right arse about it right now," he grumbled, grinning a little at Draco.

"I mostly collect the cards, though...there are a few I'm still missing. They actually made one for each of the Chudley Cannons members...I hope I get some," he looked down at the bag hopefully, perking a bit.

Even if they were made to commemorate one of the worst teams in Quidditch history. He'd take what he could get with them.
 
"You would like the Cannons," Draco snorted. "The one team in the entire league whose colors clash with your hair the most." The blond only shook his head. They'd re-entered the castle grounds now, and in a way Draco was glad for it. It meant time to study and relax before dinner. "I'll need to go to the owlery after dinner to post a letter for the books and ingredients that I'll need for the semester. If you write to the company," Draco motioned towards the bag of sweets, "they will generally send you a few cards on request. Not some of the more rare ones, though."

Entering the rooms they'd been given for the week, Draco set his sweets into his trunk and began to unpack the clothes that had been delivered. The elves must have set them on the bed for him. The blond plotted on how he would get the redhead to accept what he'd bought for him, but for now he set everything away in his own wardrobe and trunk.
 
"What do their robes have to do with it?" He frowned and shrugged. "I just...like them. They've won a few times..." he said wistfully, sighing. "Will they? I didn't know that. That's pretty cool," he smiled.

He set the chocolate frog cards in his trunk and flopped onto the bed, stretching out and closing his eyes. It was definitely a lot more comfortable than the couch.

"So, am I ever going to find out why you have no fuckin' problem being starkers with me in the bathroom, but got an issue with sharing the bed in pajamas?"

Oh no, Ron hadn't forgotten. And as it had been said, he was stubborn. Sooner or later, he thought to himself, he'd drag it out of Draco, even if it was kicking and screaming the whole time.
 
"The colour of a team's robes is usually what attracts young children to the team. I would assume you have liked them from the time you saw Quidditch, because no new fan of the game would ever side with the worst team in the league." His voice was calm as Draco took his Runes text and stretched onto the sofa to read. "And the last game they won was six years ago, they won their opener because the other seeker wasn't paying attention and took a header into a goal post. The Falcons' reserve had only signed with the team a week before."

He read a few lines and then snorted at the question. "When you and I become life-long friends, then I might consider explaining it to you, Weasley. Better yet, and more likely to happen, I'll tell you when the Goblins give up control of Gringotts."
 
"That's not true," Ron snorted. "They were ninth in the league back in our second year. And the Falmouth Falcons are probably one of the only teams consistently worse than the Cannons, so we're almost guaranteed a win every time against them. Usually," he huffed, making a face at Draco.

He rolled his eyes at Draco and sat up, reaching out and grabbing Draco, yanking him up over the trunks as he laid back, pulling Draco onto the bed beside him, though half on top.

"Oh, look, the world didn't end!"
 
He gasped, though his breath didn't return to him. Draco's fists clenched and his body stiffened, mind whirrling faster than he could process the thoughts. There were flashes of panic at the forefront, and lust behind it when images of them both in the same position sans clothes popped up here and there. And, though Draco had no idea where it came from, there was a very soft and barely there sense of safety with the weight of Weasley atop him. That didn't help the anxiety that was quickly becoming overwhelming, though. The blond forced his eyes closed and concentrated on his breathing, trying to get it to even out to something resembling normal.

"Weasley, I need you to get off of me and let me up." Draco's voice was flat and tight, similar to the feeling that was settling into his chest.
 
Ron rolled his eyes and moved so he was laying on his side facing Draco, raising his eyebrows. He propped his head up with one hand, but moved the other to Draco's chest, pressing down gently.

"You're not going to die in the same bed with me, you know..."

Though, he could practically feel Draco's heart pounding underneath his hand. And his hold with one hand was nowhere near strong enough to keep Draco in place if he didn't want to be.

"Oi..." he murmured, frowning at the pounding beneath his palm, he could practically see the anxiety seeping out of Draco. "Just relax, mate. You're fine, okay?"

Ron's hand rubbed a small circle over Draco's chest gently.
 
Slowly, and stiffly, Draco let out the breath he'd been holding. His heart pounded against his ribs, but the immediate danger was gone. He took another moment to compose himself as best he could before reaching up and taking the large (and comforting?) hand from his chest. The blond laid it on the mattress with a slight squeeze and then stood, unable to stay still any longer. "Thank you for moving off of me." The words were spoken softly and over his shoulder, and then Draco retreated to the only place of solitude he still had in the castle: the loo. He had to get a hold of himself. He closed the door over and bent to splash cool water on his face and neck as his breathing slowly began to come under his control once more.
 
He watched Draco, frowning softly, sitting up when Draco climbed off the bed. He tilted his head when Draco spoke, brows furrowing a bit and he watched Draco retreat to the bathroom, shutting the door. He figured Draco had locked it, so he didn't move. So he thought. He worked to piece things together slowly, trying to figure out why the boy had such an issue, why the boy had very nearly freaked out.

"It's not like I was trying to bugger him or any---...." Ron had started to mutter to himself, and then his eyes shot open.

Had something happened to Draco? But...it was Draco. It was hard to imagine...

He got up, walking over to the bathroom door, rapping on it lightly. "Oi, Mal...Draco...can I come in?"
 
Draco had spent the last few minutes talking quietly to himself. He needed to get himself back under control. Now that the 'danger' was gone, the blond's mind played for him all of the wonderful and naughty scenarios that could have happened had he not panicked. He groaned with the images, his pants tightening. Really, when he took away the panic, he could admit that Weasley's weight above him had felt rather...nice. His prick gave a particularly enthusiastic throb at that thought, and Draco bent to rest his head against the cool tile of the sink with a groan.

The knock came. A few deep breaths, and a mental image of Dumbledore in a bikini, and Draco was his calm, collected self. He opened the door for the redhead and made to step out so that the other could make use.
 
He didn't need to use it, so when Draco made to step out, Ron shook his head, stopping him by reaching his arm up across Draco's chest. He drew his arm away quickly though and opened his mouth, starting to speak before stopping himself and shutting his mouth with a near audible snap.

Ron had been about to ask the first question that came to mind, and that wouldn't have gone over well. He took a deep breath, then looked at Draco.

"Draco...is....is someone..." he screwed up his face, the thought pretty horrible to him. "Is someone hurting you? An older Slytherin...or....someone in your dorm?"
 
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