Chapter Text
January
Week One
The parcel wrapped in brown paper dropped heavy onto the desk, startling Draco to the point that he dropped the quill he had been holding. A scowl was already twisting on his lips when he met Ron’s gaze.
“What is that?” Draco waved angrily at the package as Ron fell into the seat beside him.
“Mum made too much fudge for the holiday break. She made me and Gin bring some back to school.”
“And?”
“You’ve got a sweet tooth, don’t you?” Ron asked, leaning in towards him.
Draco’s looked away from Ron and down to the package.
“How do I know this isn’t some sort of trick? Your family isn’t fond of me, I’m sure.”
“Don’t be a git.”
Honestly, Ron hadn’t thought Draco would make a fuss over Ron giving him some of his mum’s famous fudge. But Draco stared at it as though it was something from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Draco’s hesitancy made Ron unexpectedly nervous. When Draco still didn’t move to take the package, Ron let out an exaggerated sigh and went to grab it back.
“It’s a gift, stop looking at it like it’ll bite you. I had only thought—”
“A gift?” Draco snatched the package out of Ron’s reach before his fingers could graze it. “You got me a Christmas gift?”
“Yeah, I got you a gift.”
“Well, technically, your mother did.”
Ron rolled his eyes. Bloody ungrateful git.
“I find it highly unlikely that you spent anytime in a kitchen over the break,” Draco continued.
“I cook!”
“You can hardly brew a potion.”
“You said I’ve gotten better.”
Draco smiled.
“Yes, I suppose I did.”
Draco continued to turn the package over in his hands, examining it from every angle. Then he looked Ron in the eyes, something earnest and vulnerable shining through. It made Ron’s breath catch.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Ron’s heart fluttered. He tried his best to ignore it.
“So what are we brewing today?” Ron asked, leaning away from Draco.
Draco blinked.
“Oh, yes, let’s get started.”
~*~
Week Two
It was one of the few times this year that Harry and Ron were hanging out alone. Hermione and Ginny had agreed to meet up with Luna in the library. Dean and Seamus were in the common room. And Neville was off somewhere with Hannah Abbott. Ron and Harry were splayed out in their dormitory. Ron was on his bed, flipping through a Quidditch magazine. Harry was sitting on the floor, looking over his notes for Charms.
To be honest, it was the most relaxed Ron had felt in a long time. He forgot how much he enjoyed Harry’s company, even if they were only sitting in silence.
“You’ve done this yet?” Harry asked suddenly, breaking the quiet between them.
Ron lowered the magazine.
“The homework for Flitwick? Nah. Finished Potions, though. It’s over in my bag, if you want to look at it.”
Harry scooted across the floor towards Ron’s bag and Ron went back to looking through the Quidditch magazine. The magazine had already been passed from Seamus to Harry to Dean then, finally, to Ron. The pages were worn and about ready to fall out. It didn’t stop Ron from barely holding back a shout of excitement when he saw there was an article on the Chudley Cannons. He should’ve been the first one to read this magazine! Why had no one told him the Cannons had done an interview? Honestly, did his dormmates even know him?
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this.”
Ron lowered the magazine again. Harry was looking over his homework for Potions, eyebrows furrowed. He looked up, meeting Ron’s gaze.
“I’m a bit rubbish with the stuff but I can try to help,” Ron offered. “Though Hermione might be a better option.”
“No, I mean I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Malfoy.”
Draco.
The mere mention of Draco’s name made Ron’s breath catch. At the same time, his guard went up. Harry had barely mentioned Draco at all this year, except when Ron asked him about the Ministry trials and when Ron told him Draco was his tutor. It didn’t really make sense for Harry to bring him up right now.
Ron waited for Harry to say something more, too worried that if he spoke he’d say something wrong. But Harry seemed to be waiting for Ron to say something too. It was a stalemate. Then, with a sigh, Ron forced his guard down. This was Harry, his best mate. They could talk about anything.
“What about Malfoy?”
“He came up to me the other day and… he thanked me.”
Draco thanked Harry?
Shock must’ve shone clear on Ron’s face for Harry laughed.
“Yeah, I know,” Harry said. “Weird, right? I had been waiting for Ginny to get done her Defense Against the Dark Arts class and Malfoy walked right up to me. I thought he was going to try to start a fight or something but he, um, he thanked me for what I did over the summer.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me, actually. Ginny thought you might’ve asked him to thank me during one of your tutoring sessions?”
Ron shook his head. Even if Ron had asked Draco to reach out to Harry, he wouldn’t expect him to actually do it. Draco listened to no one.
“I had—well, I had sort of thought it might’ve been because of how close you two have become.”
Sure that he had heard Harry wrong, Ron sat up in the bed. But Harry was staring at him expectantly; did he want Ron to confirm that he was friends with Draco? Studying his best mate’s face, Ron knew instantly that Harry wasn’t angry or upset. Whenever Harry was in the mood for a fight, Ron could tell. Harry wasn’t very good at hiding it. Right now, though, Harry seemed only curious.
Instinct told Ron to deny his friendship with Draco. Over Christmas break, when he found himself thinking of Draco nonstop, he had almost been sick to his stomach. If his parents could hear his thoughts—or his siblings or Harry—
If only Neville hadn’t put the idea in his head about Draco, if only his feelings hadn’t begun to grow, if only Draco didn’t look so pleased to see Ron every time they came into view of each other, then maybe he wouldn’t feel so obligated to tell the truth right now.
“I don’t know,” Ron finally managed to choke out. “I don’t think Malfoy would say anything nice to you just because we’re friends.”
Harry shrugged, lowering his eyes to the parchment he held in his hands.
“Yeah, maybe not.”
Ron felt queasy. If Harry asked Ron to not be friends with Draco anymore, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Harry was his best friend. Draco was, well, Draco. A bully up until a few months ago. A former Death Eater. A Malfoy. A Slytherin. He had insulted Harry, Ron, and Hermione more times than Ron could count. But he was also honest and true and nonjudgmental of Ron. He was funny and intelligent. He was trying to make amends apparently.
The realization made Ron’s mouth go dry. That was it. Draco was trying to make amends. But why?
“I guess what I really want to say is that I know I haven’t been hanging out as much as I used to. Ginny is… well, I’ve missed her a lot. I hope you’re not mad at me for not spending as much time with you this year.” Harry rubbed his scar as he spoke. “I’m happy you’ve got Malfoy.”
Harry was apologizing for no reason. Draco was making amends and Ron didn’t know why. Was something going on today? But what Harry said made Ron’s shoulders sag in relief. He hadn’t realized he wanted to hear Harry say that until it had been said. Shooting Harry a crooked smile, Ron climbed off the bed and sat on the floor next to him.
“No worries, mate. After all, we spent most of last year together in a tent.”
A surprised laugh left Harry.
“Yeah, I guess we did.”
“And if I told you to stop spending so much time with Ginny, I think she’d kill me.”
Harry tilted his head.
“I don’t think so,” Harry muttered.
They fell back into a comfortable silence. Ron inhaled deeply and looked around the dormitory. Then he tensed up again as his thoughts strayed. Harry must have noticed for he glanced over at him.
“Alright?”
“Sort of,” Ron muttered before turning to face Harry completely. “Harry, can I ask you something that might sound… might sound a bit crazy?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you remember where Fred died?”
~*~
They hadn’t bothered starting a potion yet and Ron didn’t ask why. His gaze traced over Draco’s face, mesmerized by the slight smirk that teased him as Draco spoke. Warmth stirred deep inside of Ron. It took all his self-control to not reach out and run his finger along the curve of Draco’s lips.
“—even listening to me?”
Ron blinked and his face flushed; he could only imagine the dopey smile he had on his face.
“Never mind,” Draco drawled, eyeing him. “I already know the answer.”
“Is that answer yeah, of course I was?”
Draco’s smirk widened, brightening his face.
“I was informing you that these sessions are no longer mandatory.”
Ron jolted away from Draco as though he had been zapped by a stinging hex. His mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Draco cocked his head.
“There’s the response I was waiting for,” Draco said.
“I don’t get it. Why are they not mandatory now?”
“Not mandatory for me. You were the one who willingly signed up for them; there was no obligation for you to continue with tutoring if you didn’t want to.”
He was speaking gently but his tone didn’t help Ron accept what he was saying. Draco didn’t have to be his tutor anymore. The option of no longer meeting up Tuesdays and Thursdays was now available. This could be their last time meeting up if Draco wanted.
Did he want that?
“McGonagall told you this?”
“Yes, only this morning. Apparently, she’s been feeling a bit guilty over her decision to punish me over something that happened months ago. I can still play reserve whether I tutor you or not.”
“So we’re done?”
Draco’s eyebrows knitted together and Ron’s face warmed. The worry that coated the question hung in the air between them. Ron looked away quickly and noticed that the cauldron was gone and no ingredients were laid out. His stomach sank. His eyes met Draco’s.
“You’re more than capable of finishing this year without my help, Weasley,” Draco informed him softly. “You know I wouldn’t tell you that if it weren’t true.”
It felt like someone had sucked all the air out of Ron’s lungs. He had been so excited to see Draco today, to be able to sit and talk with him, to ask him about Harry and to tell him about Fred and to listen to him talk about his weekend. Now, it felt like that opportunity had been stolen from him. Even Draco’s compliment couldn’t help ground him.
“I… appreciate that you were willing to work with me the last few months, in order to ensure that I was able to play Quidditch. Not many people would have been willing to do that for me. So…” Draco visibly swallowed when he paused. “So thank you, Ron.”
Goosebumps broke out across Ron’s skin. Draco rarely addressed Ron by his first name. The gratitude expressed made the conversation seem like it was coming to an end. Ron wanted to speak but his tongue felt swollen, his voice stolen, his throat closed. This wasn’t supposed to happen today. He had never thought these meetups would come to an end.
“Your mother’s fudge was very good,” Draco continued. “If I didn’t think she’d burn a letter from me immediately, I’d have sent her my thanks.”
Everything about this seemed final. This wasn’t right. Ron refused to believe their conversation was coming to an end, that this was somehow coming to an end.
“This is for you.” Draco reached into a pocket in his robes and pulled out a bag. He leaned over and placed the gift in Ron’s hand. “I hope you enjoy it.”
Then Draco stood up, brushing off his robes, and began towards the exit. Ron reached out, grabbing onto Draco’s wrist in an attempt to stop him. It worked.
“Wait, wait—”
This can’t be it.
The four words refused to be spoken, though Ron hoped that Draco could somehow understand. Draco’s lips twitched and his eyebrows lifted.
“Weasley?”
“Congratulations,” Ron managed.
He released his hold on Draco. Draco didn’t stay to ask what the congratulations were for; Ron wasn’t quite sure himself. Congratulations on McGonagall realizing she was in the wrong. Congratulations on being free of these sessions, on getting two days of your life back, on not having to spend time in this classroom anymore. Congratulations on getting what you wanted. Draco left and Ron watched him.
When he realized he had been staring at the door far too long, Ron blinked and looked away. His eyes burned and he went to rub at them when he felt the bag in his hand. Draco’s gift to him. Ron hadn’t even
looked at it. Glancing down, Ron’s confusion intensified. It was a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. He opened the bag carefully and took out one of the beans. What an odd gift.
It was only after miserably eating five of the beans, lost in his thoughts, that Ron realized what the gift was. When he looked through the whole bag, he found that it only contained his favorite flavors.
~*~
Week Three
Ron hated that Neville put that stupid idea in his head. He hated even more that he now realized it was true.
Ron Weasley fancied Draco Malfoy. It had been over a week since Draco had informed him that their tutoring sessions were done and Ron hadn’t stopped thinking about him since. The loss of contact with Draco felt like it was physically draining Ron. Whenever something happened during his day, he wanted to talk to Draco about it. He hadn’t even been able to tell Draco about Harry showing him the corridor that Fred had passed in—the random hallway that Ron had walked down at least once a day for the past several months. He couldn’t tell Draco the relief he felt, the way he had laughed hysterically, the way he had cried.
The Slytherin had made no attempt to speak to Ron after last Tuesday. Ron couldn’t help but wonder if he had been more dependent on their friendship than Draco had been. Clearly, he must’ve been. If Ron had realized, he would’ve done better. He would’ve tried harder.
Halfheartedly, Ron grinded the leaves to mush in the bowl. On his right side, Harry was doing the same, frowning. On his left side, Hermione was shoveling the paste she had made into her cauldron. Every few seconds, she’d shoot Ron a worried look. He tried to ignore her.
He knew Harry and Hermione could tell something was off with him. They always could. But he couldn’t tell them the truth. There wasn’t a point.
As his gaze often did, it wandered from the potion he was making to Draco.
“Ron?”
“Yeah?”
Hermione was gnawing on her bottom lip as she stared at him. He lifted his eyebrows.
“What is it?”
“You need to add the leaves in now,” she said, nodding towards his cauldron. “Or your potion will be ruined.”
“Oh. Thanks, Hermione.”
“Of course.”
He could feel her eyes on him, concerned.
~*~
The common room was empty but only because it was so early in the morning. Ron sat perched on the windowsill, staring unfocused out the window. He had woken up over an hour ago, when the sun still wasn’t completely in the sky. For once, it hadn’t been a nightmare of Fred that stirred him from his sleep. No, this time he had woken up thinking about Draco, his stomach heavy.
Ron missed him.
He missed him more than he thought he could. It was like an ache in his bones. Merlin, he just wanted to talk to the fool. But he never seemed able to catch his eyes, never seemed able to find Draco alone. It was like fate was purposely keeping them apart. Once upon a time, Ron would have been glad for it. Now, it felt like it was killing him.
So Ron had come down to the common room, needing to get away from his sleeping dormmates. Breakfast would be starting soon enough and the other students would be stirring. Time passed. The sun rose, shedding light across the grounds. And Ron thought about Draco.
“Ron?”
Ron looked away from the window to find Hermione hesitantly approaching him.
“Morning, Hermione.”
“You’re up early. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep.”
“Oh. Okay.” Hermione indicated to the windowsill with her hand. “Can I sit with you?”
Ron nodded, moving his legs to make room from her. She slid into the spot and lifted her legs up onto the windowsill so that she could turn and face Ron. Leaning her head against the window, she stared at Ron. He stared back, a small smile lifting his lips. Despite his rotten mood the past few days, Hermione had been kind and patient.
“Sorry I’ve been a prat recently.”
Hermione shrugged.
“You haven’t been a prat.” His eyebrows rose and she smiled. “Not really. We’ve been much worse to each other.”
“That’s true,” he laughed. “We were awful to each other third year.”
“Yes, we were.” Hermione paused. “Last summer too.”
He stilled in surprise at her gentle admission. Her eyes remained locked on his but it was clear she was nervous.
“I’m sorry things turned out the way they did, that I had never opened up to you—”
“Hermione—”
“Please let me say this. I’ve been wanting to for months now but, until recently, hadn’t known if I should. I should’ve spoken to you over the summer about… about everything. My parents and Fred.” Her voice shook over his brother’s name. Ron swallowed thickly. “I should’ve told you what I was thinking, what I was feeling. I just felt lost. I felt like I was going to lose you but I simply couldn’t make myself speak. But… but I think we’re better for it now, don’t you? As friends again.”
She was staring at him, eyes wide and pleading. As if she needed to know he thought the same thing. He nodded, because it was true.
“I was worried about losing you too,” he admitted. “I’m happy we’re still friends.”
“Me too,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
He leaned forward to brush some of her wild hair from her face. She smiled, her eyes wet, and he smiled back. The tension in the air seemed to dissipate as quickly as it had arrived.
“What made you want to talk about it now?”
“Hmm?”
“You said you had wanted to talk to me about this for a while but didn’t think you should,” Ron recalled. “Until recently.”
“Oh.” Her face pinkened and his interest grew. “Well, I—I suppose because of Malfoy.”
His lips parted in surprise.
“Malfoy? What about him?” Ron tried to ignore the high pitch of his voice.
“You’ve been watching him.”
Panic raced through him at her matter-of-fact tone.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Ron, I’m not—you seemed very happy when he was tutoring you.”
“What’s that mean?” Ron asked, more heatedly than called for.
Hermione, though, didn’t seem to mind.
“I had only thought… well, that you liked him. And that you were in a better place now because of it. I’m not sure I understand what, exactly, you like about Malfoy but… what?”
“You don’t care? That I—that I like blokes too?”
Hermione blinked at his strangled question.
“Of course not.”
“I had thought…” Ron cleared his throat. “I thought you’d care. Because of everything that’s happened between us. I’ve always thought there were handsome guys, some really good-looking blokes, and I always thought there was beautiful girls, there was you, and… I didn’t think it really meant anything, that I thought both guys and girls were…”
“Attractive,” Hermione supplied softly, staring up at him.
Ron nodded, ears burning.
“He’s been horrible to you, Malfoy has,” Ron said quietly. “He’s been horrible to all of us but especially to you, Hermione.”
“If you like him then something about him had to change.”
“I think I… I think I might’ve been starting to like him. Bloody Malfoy. Can you believe it?” Hermione didn’t react to what he said, as if she somehow already knew all this. Of course she did. She was Hermione. It made Ron feel better knowing she didn’t judge him too horribly for whatever he was feeling towards Draco. “But… but I don’t know if we’re friends anymore. He doesn’t even look at me.”
His worries earned a toothy smile from Hermione. She nudged him with her foot.
“He looks at you,” she informed him confidently.
“What are you talking about?”
“He looks at you too. It’s just when you’re not looking.”
~*~
It hadn’t been part of the plan to wander up to the sixth floor.
After speaking to Hermione, Ron had been ready to go down to breakfast with her and get something in his stomach. Their conversation left him feeling light and carefree—for the first time in months, he knew where he stood with Hermione and they were both happy about it. But when they started heading down to the Great Hall, Ron realized he wanted some time to think. Hermione hadn’t objected, offering him a quick hug, and they had parted ways.
Now he stood outside the classroom Draco had tutored him in every Tuesday, his heart thumping in his chest. He hadn’t come back here since Draco had informed him McGonagall was setting him free from his obligation to tutor Ron. Oddly, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to go into the classroom. It would be strange to see it empty. There’d be no cauldron set out, no ingredients or Potions book on the table. Ron had taken his chessboard last time; it sat unused in his dormitory.
Despite his reservations, though, Ron moved forward and opened the door. He didn’t want to move further in so he remained in the doorway. His eyes swept across the room, noting that the chair he had sat in when they played chess was still next to the teacher’s desk. Sunlight streamed in from the windows, highlighting all the dust floating in the air. The looked abandoned and unused again.
He drummed his fingers nervously against his leg. Why had he come here? It only made him feel worse; the happiness he had felt after speaking to Hermione (he looks at you too) was slowly disappearing. If Draco looked at Ron too, wouldn’t Ron have felt it? Realized it some way? Perhaps Hermione had only told him that because they were friends and she was being nice. Ron reached up and tapped his fingers against his lips before finally making the decision to head back to the Great Hall.
It was time to go.
It was as Ron was turning around that the sound of something falling echoed loudly in the corridor. Ron jumped in surprise. He had been so lost in his own thoughts he hadn’t even heard someone approaching him. He spotted the figure right away—
“Draco?”
Shock made Draco’s first name leave Ron’s mouth. The sound of something crashing must’ve been him. Draco was on the floor, face pink and mouth twisted in a scowl, further down the corridor. Ron would recognize the blond hair anywhere. Without realizing, Ron began to run over to him. When he went to help him out, Draco slapped his hand away before pushing himself to his feet.
Ron had never seen Draco look so disheveled. His hair had fallen out of place, his robes were wrinkled and dirty, his shoes scuffed. He looked utterly furious. It only served to make Ron’s heart race in excitement.
It had been far too long since Ron had the privilege of looking into Draco’s eyes.
“You okay?”
“Of course,” Draco spat, lip curled.
Ron found himself biting back a smile.
“Did you trip? Or—” Ron paused, eyebrows furrowing. “Were you running away?”
The words seemed ludicrous as they left Ron’s mouth. Draco wouldn’t run away from Ron. But as Draco’s face somehow pinkened even more, his scowl worsening, Ron realized it was true.
“You didn’t want to see me.”
He hadn’t meant to say it out loud but, as the realization came to him, he couldn’t stop himself. Draco hadn’t wanted to see Ron. Draco had seen Ron and tried to get away so quickly he had fallen. He had run away from him. Merlin, it hurt grasping that fact. Ron wasn’t sure if Draco could hear the pain in his voice but it didn’t matter, did it?
It was hard to look at Draco now. Without another word, Ron turned and headed back the way he had come. After talking to Harry and Hermione, Ron had thought… His throat constricted. The past week and a half, Ron never would have thought Draco was purposely avoiding him. But now he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a reason their eyes never met across the Great Hall or during Potions class when it had so often happened before.
Ron shoved his hands in his pockets and bowed his head, walking as quickly away from Draco as he could. Bloody hell, what had he been thinking? That he had some sort of chance with Draco Malfoy? That the past few months had actually meant something? He was an absolute idiot. Parkinson and Zabini had probably been telling Draco about how much Ron had been staring at him the last week and they’d all laugh about it later.
Heat flashed through Ron and embarrassment settled hard in his stomach. He could hear Draco calling his name behind him but it sounded muffled; there was a ringing in his ears that didn’t go away even when he furiously shook his head.
“Listen to me, damnit!”
The firm grip of Draco’s hand on his arm stilled him and Ron turned, jaw clenched. He couldn’t look him in his eyes so, instead, Ron stared down at the floor. Draco sighed through his nose before releasing his hold on Ron.
“I hadn’t expected to see you, Weasley.”
“So you admit it?” Ron asked gruffly. “You saw me and ran away? Couldn’t stand the sight of me? Stupid Weasley standing in your way?”
“Don’t be a fool. I only—it wasn’t—I hadn’t been ready to see you.”
“Ready to see me?” Lifting his head, Ron glowered at Draco. “What does that mean? You hate me that much, do you? I thought we were friends!”
Draco stilled, lips pressed together. Not for the first time, Ron despised how easily his words flowed from him when he was upset. It was clear now that Draco never viewed them as friends and he hated that he had even mentioned it to the prat.
“Just leave, Malfoy.”
Ron wasn’t sure he could stand the embarrassment of this conversation any longer. He hoped that by telling Draco to leave, he’d take his out. They’d never have to speak again. His breath caught in his throat at the thought of never speaking to Draco again.
Draco, however, didn’t leave. Instead, he tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling. Then he let out a single sharp laugh and focused on Ron again. Ron tried to glare at him but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to be angry at Draco.
“I didn’t want to be your friend,” Draco finally said. “I didn’t want any of it. I’m convinced the old bat did this all simply to torture me. So, yes, I took the chance at leaving the tutoring sessions with you. And, yes, when I saw you in the doorway of our classroom I tried to run. Filch must’ve cleaned these floors recently because I slipped and here we are.”
His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and he leaned against the wall as he finished speaking. Ron tried to figure out what he was supposed to say to all of that, to Draco’s confession, but nothing came to mind. It was probably because of the way Draco was staring at him; Ron never had someone look at him that way before. Vulnerable, resigned, amused. The three emotions twisted oddly on Draco’s face.
He looked very handsome in that moment.
“I never wanted to be your friend, Weasley, because I had always wanted something more. I simply couldn’t accept that friendship was all I’d get.”
The words were slow to process in Ron’s mind but his body began reacting to what Draco said immediately. Ron took a step closer to Draco. Draco had wanted to be more than Ron’s friend. His lips parted and his breathing slowed. He had always wanted something more, that’s what he had said. Ron reached out and wrapped his hand gently around Draco’s neck; his thumb guided Draco’s chin upwards.
Draco’s pupils dilated. Ron could feel his pulse quicken.
Ron wanted to ask him how long he had wanted something more. Ron wanted to ask him why he never admitted it to Ron, why he had run away from Ron instead of facing their growing feelings head on. Ron wanted to ask him if this all meant what Ron thought it did.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” Draco breathed.
Ron took another step closer, backing Draco against the wall. Their chests brushed; Ron could feel Draco take a shuddered breath. Draco reached out and gripped Ron’s jumper by the collar, pulling his mouth closer to Draco’s. The warmth of Draco’s breath on Ron’s face made him pause. His body tingled in anticipation.
“Hurry the fuck up, Ron.”
Draco’s voice wobbled and Ron almost grinned—almost. Instead he gently pressed his lips to Draco’s, unable to tease him and make him wait. The sigh from Draco he received in response to the soft kiss made his decision to not draw out the tormenting worth it. Parting his mouth ever so slightly, Ron caught Draco’s bottom lip with his teeth and gave a tender tug. His blood sang, rushing through his body, when Draco released his hold on Ron’s jumper and ran his hands through his ginger locks. A shiver raced up and down Ron’s back, forcing a groan from him.
Every worry, every doubt, every dark thought—it all disappeared.
“I thought you hated me again,” Ron admitted when their mouths parted.
His eyes traced over Draco’s face, admiring his wet lips, his flushed cheeks, his dark eyes. Ron had never seen Draco’s eyes darken so.
“You got me a gift,” Draco responded, as if that explained everything.
Ron’s eyebrows ticked upwards.
“It was your mother’s fudge. I had never thought you’d gift me with something so…” His words died and Draco shrugged. Ron thought he might understand. It had been a personal gift. His mum had made it. Ron
had brought it to Hogwarts and had thought of giving it to Draco right away. It had meant something. “I wasn’t sure you were interested in me.”
“I wasn’t sure either. Not until you stopped talking to me, I guess. This hadn’t exactly been part of the plan.”
His thumb stroked Draco’s throat, memorizing the bumps and ridges.
“Who has time for planning?” Draco murmured.
Ron wanted to point out that strategizing was how he beat Draco in almost every game of chess. He wanted to tell him that his plans over the last few months, playing Draco in chess and apologizing to him on the Quidditch field, is what helped their relationship grow. But, this time, he was okay agreeing that not having a plan worked out well for them.
Ron leaned down and kissed Draco again.