Draco's POV

You would have thought that I would enjoy Potions class. Well I do; but that's only when I have someone to sneer at. Usually Potter, though Weasel, Granger and Longbottom are always fun to piss off too. Snape 'just so happens' not to hear or see what occurs, until of course one of the Gryffindors decides to prove that the Sorting Hat put them in the right house and shows off their 'bravery' which lands them with house points deducted and sometimes a detention or two.

Looking over at the other side of the room I spot my targets for today's lesson; Granger is rattling on about something to Potter who looks as interested as I usually do when Pansy is blathering to me about her day.

I notice that the Weasel King's chair is empty. Perhaps his parents couldn't afford to keep him at Hogwarts so he was sent home? This thought will get me through the rest of this boring lesson; (Why we need to learn a cleaning potion is beyond me – though I guess poor people may need it.)

I wonder if it's possible to drop Potions at the end of this year but still gain my N.E.W.T.? I'm sure if Father weren't recently engaged in Azkaban prison he could have sorted something out with Professor Snape. Put all my marks over the years together to give me a decent final grade?

The door to the Potions classroom has just opened and a few whispers erupt around the classroom. I turn to see what the commotion is about and a smirk plays at my lips as I watch the Weasel stumble in. He had just burst in the dungeon, his open bag thrown over his shoulder carelessly and his un-brushed hair wet. His uniform is in disarray and looks wet also.

Professor Snape looks up from the parchment he was working on long enough to give Weasley a fleeting look before returning to his work.

"Weasley, would you care to explain why you are half an hour late to my lesson?" Professor Snape asks in a bored drawl.

Weasley barely opened his mouth before Snape interrupted him.

"And would you care as well to tell me why you decided to come to my lesson not only late but dressing like a house-elf?" Professor Snape continued. His eyes were flashing with pleasure at an excuse to punish a Gryffindor.

I could see Granger frowning, her expression of irritation at the mention of house-elves. I heard some rumours about her back in fourth year – something about how house-elves should and should not be treated. And I thought she was smart.

Weasley is looking very uncomfortable, he's sweating. This is just getting better and better.

"I was helping Hagrid after the Care of Magical Creatures lesson – those Somerflies aren't as easy to handle as you would think," Weasley said, smiling slighting and running his hand through his wet hair so it slicked back… he looks so different with his hair like that… rugged yet you can barely smell the stench of poverty on him…

"So you saw it fit to miss my lesson for a run around with a useless animal… and whatever creature Hagrid had this morning, hmm?" Professor Snape asks, looking up once again from his work; teeth bare and his expression of amusement.

I hear a crack and notice that Weasley had balled his fists up, his face flushed, not with embarrassment from before but with anger. How anyone could be friends with a giant oaf like Hagrid is beyond me, but then again, he is friends with Potter and Granger.

Weasley is a Pureblood which he should be proud of. But from the way he acts you would think that he's a Mudblood. When I first met him I thought he had potential, after all, he, like I did, tried to make friends with Potter. That was one of the things Father told me before we left for Kings Cross station when he heard that Potter might be going to Hogwarts the same year as me. 'Potter is important, Draco, and if we have him on our side, when the Dark Lord rises again he will be most thankful.'

I doubt Weasley was thinking that but he had the right idea. If Weasley wasn't so poor and Gryffindor I might of even tried to friend him. One can never have enough bodyguards, sure Crabbe and Goyle are big enough but the Weasel King has something about him… intelligence? Well he knows how to fight anyway.

"Why are you still standing up?" Professor Snape has just asked him. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for being late, another ten for not sitting down and a detention tonight."

Weasley opens his mouth but then closes it, probably hearing a little voice in his head telling him not to rise to a Slytherin… or that could be Potter whispering to him to sit down. Same thing.

I bet Weasel wishes he had come earlier, he need to know how to brew this potion… literally. If I was half an hour late for a lesson I would at least have bathed first. It would take him, how long? Five minutes. These Gryffindor's don't know the meaning off good grooming.

"Oy, Draco," says Blaise Zabini from my right. "Stop staring at Weasley." A few Slytherins, namely Crabbe, Goyle and Nott, laugh dumbly at him.

Flushing red I mutter back, "I wasn't."

Zabini bears his horrible yellow teeth at me in a grin, "Oh come on, we saw you, but I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Draco, I think Weasley's banging Potter."

My eyes dart over to the Weasel who's chatting to Potter, rubbing his neck gingerly as he nods in answer to whatever Potter has just asked him.

Looking back at Zabini, who is smirking happily at me; I laugh nonchalantly. "Well if he is, that's his funeral," I reply.

"I don't think he minds," Zabini says, with a wink, cocking his head towards Weasel again who this time is laughing at something Potter just said and hits him playfully on his arm.

A strange feeling forms in my stomach and I round on Zabini, grabbing the front of his robes and leaning in close towards him. I say to him, barely audible but I know he catches every word, "If you don't shut your ugly mouth I'm going to -"

"Malfoy."

Snape is standing behind me; I can see his reflection in Zabini's glasses and he doesn't look happy. I let go of Zabini's robes and slowly turn to face Snape.

"I do not permit fighting – or threats – in my classroom, detention tonight." Snape says and after giving Zabini a momentary look, he returns to his desk. I may not be a mind reader but growing up at the Malfoy Manor gives you a sort of sixth sense about things – something's going on there. Must have something to do with Zabini senior.

"Denial isn't just a river in Spain," Crabbe whispers over to me once Snape is gone, trying to sound smart.

"I'm not in denial," I say hotly. "And it’s Egypt, you idiot."

"What is?" Crabbe asks, frowning his brow.

Ron's POV

I knew I was running late. I knew Snape would probably hex me for crashing into his room looking like I've been doing who-knows-what but I knew he'd be worse if I missed the lesson completely.

Running through the corridors, my ears were met with different sounds – my shoes squeaking along as I turned sharp corners, my fast-breathing and a few ghosts muttering to each other. I wasn't sure what they were saying; I only caught a few phrases, such as 'I say!' and 'Where's he going so fast?'

Once I reached the Dungeons and pull the door open, all heads turned round and I had dozens of pairs of eyes on me. Most expressions were screaming 'Ron! No, it would have been safer to stay away' while others (mostly the Slytherins) were saying 'Hahahaha'.

While Snape was talking to me, my eyes wandered around the classroom. Most people were too used to Snape's speeches about tardiness that they had returned to their work. I notice that Malfoy is looking at me, well when I saw looking I mean there's a smirk on his face and his expression is of great joy.

Running my hands through my hair and answering Snape, out of the corner of my eye I notice that everyone but Malfoy has turned back to their potions. A few strands of blonde have fallen into his eyes as he licks his lips… Licks his lips? I must be getting ill from being out in the rain for so long.

Taking a seat next to Harry, I give Draco a fleeting look before asking Harry what we had to do in the lesson. He makes a joke about Snape needing to use the cleaning potion on his hair and when I laugh, I look over to Snape to see if he's heard us but he isn't at his desk.

He's giving Malfoy a detention.

For tonight. Same as me. Great.

---

"Draco."

Startled, Draco smudged the pencil across his cheek. Raising his eyebrows, he looked in the mirror, to the side of his reflection where Blaise Zabini was standing there grinning.

"What do you want?" Draco asked in an exasperated drawl.

"Oh nothing," Zabini said casually, "Off to detention with Weasel?"

"I was, before you came over here and made me draw a line across my face," Draco said, licking the end of his thumb in an attempt to rid his skin of the black mark.

"Leave it like that," Zabini said. "Weasley loves marks after all – or was that scars?" Zabini pretended to be deep in thought, scratching his chin with his finger.

Draco ignored him, and completed the black lines around each eye, using his wand to mutter a simple spell he had seen his mother use when he was a child, watching her set her make-up.

"I'm going now," Draco announced, popping the pencil in the top pocket of his white school shirt.

"Wouldn't want to keep lover-boy waiting now, would we?" Zabini mocked, as he watched Draco stork away out of the common room, his school robe thrown casually over his shoulder.

The journey to the dungeons seemed longer to Draco despite the fact that the Slytherin common room was only a ten minute walk away. He gathered it appeared further as he usually had Crabbe and Goyle at his sides discussing the mornings breakfast spread with Pansy walking in front of him, speaking loudly to her friend Aimee Finnerty about how she was looking for a nice Pureblood boyfriend, preferably blonde so her children would have the dominate blonde gene in them (though she didn't use that term, but that's what Draco concluded from the drabble she was going on about).

Sighing, Draco reached the Potions classroom and was surprised to notice that the Weasel was already there. The sleeves of his school shirt turned up until the elbow, un-tucked out of his trousers that possessed a few stains and what Draco hoped was water marks. Weasley was bent over a table, scrubbing it clean with a wet rag.

Draco stood there for a few moments and unbeknown to Weasley, watched him clean the Potions table – his table in fact. The way Weasley moved the rag, his behind moving in time with his strong arm that was half exposed, covered in dark red hair.

Thinking that if Weasley saw him staring he would probably ask questions, Draco coughed once, startling Weasley who craned his head to see who was behind him.

"Oh, it's you," Weasley said, looking disappointed at Draco's presence. "You're late; Snape's already given me instructions, you can help, there's another rag over there." Ron cocked his head in the direction of a bucket of soapy water, a grey rag hanging over the side. "With two of us we can get it done quicker, I don't want to have to stay here longer than I have to."

Draco looked at Ron as though he was a small house-elf giving an order to its master. Draco was always the master, and here was Weasley acting as though he wasn't the slave he was. Shaking his head of any dirty thoughts that were slowly creeping into his head, he rolled his eyes, tossing his robe over the nearest chair. Draco rolled his sleeves up as he bent over to reach the rag.

Ron watched Draco to make sure he was actually going to help him. A quick glance would have done it but instead Ron found himself watching Draco prepare himself for work and then bend over to pick the other rag up.

"I thought you wanted to get the work done."

Ron jumped slightly, his heart beating oddly fast. He was lost in his own thoughts and hadn't noticed Draco walk up to him, wondering why he was staring into space, his mouth opened slightly.

"Hmm? Oh yeah I do," Ron said, hiding his reddening face by turning his attention back to the table he had been half way through cleaning when Draco had entered.

Draco shrugged and turned to clean a nearby table, both boys working in silence, though when they met at the middle of a table near the front of the room, Draco spoke.

"I was cleaning this table," Draco said, pushing his rag-covered hands over to Ron's side.

"Well you're not doing a very good job," Ron retorted, pushing Draco's hand back across the table divide.

"Well I'm so sorry that I, unlike you, can afford a cleaning staff," Draco said, placing his other hand over his chest and speaking in a sarcastic brogue. "I imagine you're used to cleaning, aren't you?"

Ron tried not to rise to Draco; he was after all using the same old material he always used – Weasley is poor, he can't afford shoes, he walks around with rope for a belt. Smirking at Draco, Ron shook his head and continued to wash over the table with his rag.

Draco folded his arms over his chest, his lips curling pleasantly. "Awh, what's wrong? Can't poor Weasley think of a come back?" When Draco got no change out of Ron's behaviour for this, he tried a different tactic. "Oh I see, your boyfriend Potter has taught you the art of 'keeping your cool' so to speak."

"Excuse me?" Ron blurted out, dropping the rag on the floor at Draco's sentence. "Harry and I – what I mean is - we aren't dating."

Draco raised his eyebrows in amusement and replied, "Sure, but you do realize that your relationship with Potty is sort of pushing the boundaries of Side-Kick loyalty, don't you?" Draco could see Ron's face was going from a pale pink to tomato red.

"We aren't! He's going out with my sister for Merlin's sake!" Ron said, wondering why proving to Draco that he and Harry weren't going out was so important. Everyone (apart from Draco, apparently) knew about Harry and Ginny.

"Alright, don't get your knickers in a twist," Draco said, crouching down to pick up the rag Ron had dropped. He placed it on the table and continued to clean the table, hiding his smile. He had hit a nerve with Weasley but he wasn't sure if that was why he was smiling. "Are you going to help or are you going to stand there all night in a daze?"

Ron shook his head and walked up to Draco to finish the table, his eyes darting to Draco a few times. Draco could feel Ron's stare on him but he didn't say anything as that would be admitting that he noticed.

But after ten minutes of this, Draco stopped and threw the rag down on the table in frustration. "Would you stop looking at me!" Draco said, angrily.

Ron, who had been pushing a chair under a nearby table, nearly went forwards with it. "Excuse me?" Ron stuttered.

"I know that you've never been so close to such an attractive person before but there is no need to stare," Draco reasoned, leaning casually against the wall.

"I wasn't staring," Ron said, the colour of his face matching his hair. "And I noticed that your eyes weren't always on the tables," he added, trying to take the heat off himself.

Draco moved forwards towards Ron, "What are you implying?" he asked, speaking through his teeth as he moved in nearer to Ron. "Did Zabini put you up to this?"

"Zabini? Put what up?" Ron asked bewildered, trying not to blink, as though Draco was a Hippogriff.

"Nothing," Draco said, realizing his mistake and turning away.

"No go –" Ron said, but cut off suddenly, a strange expression on his face. "Are you wearing eyeliner?"

Draco turned to face Ron whose face was covered in amusement and a second expression he couldn't place. "So what if I am?"

Draco asked, raising his eyebrows. "Is that a problem?"

"No, no," Ron said, flushing slightly. "No problem, none at all."

Draco watched Ron's eyes look him up and down and an odd shoot of electricity shot through his stomach. The reality of the situation sinking in; he was in the dungeons alone with a sweaty Weasley who kept looking at him like a new Broomstick itching to be rode.

He didn't know why he did it but the next minute Draco found himself pushing Weasley up against the wall behind him, pressing his lips against Weasley's dry ones, his hands pinning Weasley's wrists to the wall.

Ron's eyes widened and he gasped until he felt Draco's tongue lick his bottom lip, eager to taste the inside of his mouth. Ron obliged by allowing Draco entrance, his mind forgetting that this was Draco Malfoy whom he was kissing and instead a gorgeous blonde in black eyeliner and loose fitting shirt.

Ron broke free of Draco's hands and wrapped them around his stomach, pulling him closer while Draco used his free hands to run through Ron's hair, resting them at the nape of his neck. Both boys kissed hungrily and moaning softly against each others lips, Draco trying not too but failing.

When the kiss broke, both boys were breathing heavily. They let go of each other slowly, their expressions of a mix of alarm and disbelief, both boys staring at each other. Draco glanced at the unfinished table and then back at Ron.

"Uh – we better," Ron said, flushing red, following Draco's gaze.

"Yeah, we should," Draco finished, as though he could read Ron's mind.

Ron hurried over to the table where his rag was and frantically started to wash a patch which was already done. Draco watched Ron in a sort of daze, wondering if he should make a comment about what just happened but remembering that it was he was kissed him first, Draco didn't think anything he could say would help.

That is until he saw Ron bash his fist on the table and swear under his breath. Raising an eyebrow slowly, Draco almost fell backwards when Ron had nearly jumped him, pushing him over the nearest table and doing what Draco had only minutes before.

It was a thrill for Draco, he was always in control but here he was the slave so to speak. And he liked it. Draco grunted into Ron's ear as he began to plant kisses up Draco's pale neck, his teeth grazing the skin.

"How's that?" Ron asked, his tongue flickering over the small red mark he had just made.

"Don't talk," Draco instructed, grabbing a patch of shaggy hair from Ron's head.

Ron did as Draco told and concentrated on his neck and the lack of colour in it. Draco had always been pale and Ron had secretly wanted to see what Draco would look like with some colour. Draco used his hands to massage Ron's back, lifting his shirt up slightly so he could access the skin. Ron shivered at Draco's touch, his back arching forwards.

Neither boy was concerned about anything but each other, which is why Ron didn't notice when his foot collided with the bucket of soapy water. The bucket fell over and the water poured over the dungeon floor and because of the soap in the water, this caused Draco to lose his balance and grab onto Ron for support before both boys collapsed over each other with an 'oomph'.

Wet, sweaty and now soapy, their eyes locked and it felt like hundreds of snitches were flying around each of their stomachs, nothing mattering but sitting on the dungeon floor with each other. It was only when a deep and annoyed voice spoke did either boy tore their eyes from the other.

"Would one of you please like to explain what is going on here?"

It was Snape and he didn't look exactly happy. His floor would take ages to dry and the tables hadn't been dried after washing yet so there were water marks over them.

Neither Ron nor Draco replied, instead they both scrambled to their feet, each trying to look as though this wasn't done in a fit of lust.

"Fine," Snape said, wiping his black robes closer around his body. "If you won't explain your actions I will be forced to give you both another detention for tomorrow evening."

Snape was surprised when he didn't receive the reaction he was hoping – he was expecting. Then again, Draco and Ron were both surprised too.

Fin.