Bloom

It started it detention.

Because, of course it did. Because of course this whole thing had to be so corny, so cheesy, so…something else related to food probably. Draco could never seem to come up with other comparisons. A fairy tail maybe?

No.

The detention, which had followed a not-so-friendly duel outside of double Herbology, starting in the wizard fashion and quickly turning to Muggle ways. Ron had struck him fairly hard but Draco had pushed back, which in turn had knocked him to the ground. But on his way down his head had struck one of the wooden benches outside the greenhouse, and he had cut his head open.

Thus, detention for both of them for the next three weekends. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Together, with Professor McGonagall. On the first day, however, she had simply asked them to clean out the mouse and crow cages. By hand. This was a lengthy process of removing the mice, placing them in a wooden box temporarily, cleaning the cage, refreshing the straw, and then putting them back. And there were 10 mouse cages, and 20 birdcages which held the crows.

They had worked in silence for fifteen minutes before Draco began to get antsy. He hated silence. It always made his heart beat a little more quickly, and his hands got sweaty. Naturally, he began to launch a few remarks at the Weasley, who was dutifully working on the cages at his table.

“I think it’s time you stop acting like you’re better than me,” he said bitterly, and the Gryffindor looked over at him from the table over. “It might save you a trip to the hospital wing.”

“At least I wasn’t crying over a black eye,” Weasley retorted, though a pretty pink blush was rising to his cheeks, which made Draco feel triumphant already.

But he frowned. He hadn’t cried, his eyes had watered. He’d been in pain. “You know,” he said, his tone smooth as silk, “I find it interesting, actually.” Draco pushed aside the cage he’d been working on and crossed his arms over his chest, and smirked at the youngest Weasley boy.

“What?” he asked, his well-groomed, ginger eyebrows furrowing.

Draco felt relieved as his heart began to slow again. He exaggerated a sigh and replied, “You’re always sticking up for your friends.” He tilted his head. “When do they ever stand up for you?”

“They stand up for me!” He snapped, but Draco saw that his tone did not match his eyes, which had gone a bit sad.

That was unfortunate. He had gorgeous eyes.

“Not from what I’ve seen,” Draco said with a shrug, “They’re always just telling you to calm down any time I saw something to you.” He now felt he had sufficiently rattled the Weasley, as he was still blushing, and his hands shook. Draco smiled, and turned away.

However, the Weasley never said anything in response. Draco went back to the cage he’d been cleaning. The silence felt awkward. He stole a glance at the Gryffindor. He had faced his birdcage, but he was not working on it. Then Draco got pissed off, because he felt somewhat…bad. But he wasn’t going to say anything, of course. It wasn’t his job to cheer him up.

But it did make him think. Even though he had wanted to hurt him with his words, they were also true. If he ever threw an insult at that Muggle-born, or the fucking Golden Boy Potter, Weasley was always quick to jump in and defend them. Every time. Always going for his wand or using his fists. But when he threw insults at Ron, they would just tell him to ignore it. To calm down.

It hardly seemed fair.

Blaise was his best friend. They always defended each other. Never telling the other to ignore an insult. Blaise would react furiously if someone tried to knock Draco down a peg, and in turn, Draco would do the same for his best friend.

“You’re such an ass,” Weasley finally muttered with a pouty huff.

“At least I defend my best friend,” Draco shot back, raising his eyebrows at him.

“He’s done a lot for me,” Weasley said firmly, “He doesn’t have to defend me all the time.”

Draco set his mouse in the wooden box. “Shouldn’t he want to?” it felt odd to be having such a real conversation with him. But it also felt good, in a way. Almost…relieving. Like they could put the whole façade behind them for a short while.

“He’s got a lot going on,” Weasley said, but the sadness was still in his eyes, “I don’t expect to be at the forefront of his mind at all times.” He went slightly twitchy, first averting his eyes from Draco’s to look at the floor, then off toward the front of the classroom, then he finally turned back to the table.

“Okay,” Draco said perfunctorily. He went back to what he’d been doing.

This was where there first conversation had ended. Draco did not think much about it until he saw Weasley the next day with his friends. When they crossed paths, Draco locked eyes with him, smirking, silently telling him exactly what was on his mind. Surprisingly, the Weasley boy held his gaze longer than Draco had expected. Potter seemed to notice this and glared at Draco, who chuckled and shook his head. Was Potter being protective, or possessive? To him, they probably both meant the same thing.

Draco knew the difference, though.

Sometimes.

That evening, back in Professor McGonagall’s classroom, Draco spoke first once again.

“Did you ask them?”

“Ask who what?” Weasley snapped, turning around, he already looked fed up, which made Draco smirk.

“Your friends,” he sneered, “Have you asked them why they don’t stand up for you?” The Gryffindor quickly looked away, but Draco could read him. “You did,” he remarked, “I’ll admit I’m a little bit proud of you.” When the Weasley looked up at this remark, Draco couldn’t help smirking. He was eating the praise right out of his hand. “What did they say?”

“Why do you even care?” Weasley asked with an exasperated huff.

Draco shrugged, and did not say anything, letting him form his own opinion. There was silence for a few short seconds, then his detention partner spoke again.

“They do stand up for me,” he said quietly.

“There you go again,” Draco chuckled, “Standing up for them, over whether or not they stand up with you. I have an experiment for you, next time I insult them, don’t say anything.”

“How about you just stop saying crude things?” Weasley replied with a frown.

“Because I’m Draco Malfoy,” Draco replied with a smirk, “And I take issue with the people you surround yourself with.”

“What about me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What about you?” Draco responded, goosebumps popping up along his arms.

“You said you take issue with the people I surround myself with,” Weasley pointed out, “But…what about me?” there was an inflated sense of innocence in his eyes as he asked this, but also a hint of daring.

“Yes,” Draco said with a sigh, stepping closer to him, his heart beginning to beat rapidly, “I take issue with you.”

“Why?” Weasley asked, looking him up and down, then biting his lip.

“Because I’m Draco Malfoy,” Draco responded again. Obviously. “And you’re Ron Weasley.” He smirked. “That,” he said, “And you’re not down on your knees for me.” He locked eyes with him. “Slut.”

Finally, Ron cracked a smile. “Look who’s losing first,” he teased, “Again.” But he stepped forward, his hands going to Draco’s face, and pushing their lips together. “That’s the second time,” he said, and squirmed when Draco bit his lip gently. “You can’t resist me.”

Draco chuckled against his mouth as the peaceful, relaxing, warm feeling he always got from kissing Ron washed over him. “I can’t help it,” he murmured, sliding a hand into Ron’s soft hair and gripping it tightly, “You’re so pretty.” He guided Ron to his neck and sighed when he kissed it. “I hope you aren’t really upset.”

“Shut up,” Ron whispered tauntingly, “Don’t worry about it. It was just the game.”

“Right,” Draco replied, groaning when he felt Ron’s teeth against his skin. Though his brain was going somewhat fuzzy, he still had a thought tinkering around in there, telling him it still wasn’t fair that Ron’s friends did not stick up for him, even during their ‘fight,’ “I love being in detention with you.”

“Do you?” Ron whispered close to his ear, making him shiver.

“Of course,” Draco confirmed, yanking his head back so he could kiss him, cradling Ron’s chin, “You know how much I adore you.” He watched as Ron blushed.

“I know how much you adore playing games,” his secret lover replied, a touch bashfully, but only because he knew how much Draco loved it when he acted shy and innocent. A little lamb ready to be eaten by the big, bad lion.

“Ron,” Draco said with mild annoyance, “I only like the games because I get to play with you.” And before Ron could speak, he said, “And yes, I promise.” He knew Ron would have asked. “You’re my favorite playmate.”

Ron kissed him slowly for several enjoyable seconds, before pulling back. “Thank you for putting up with me this time.”

This time.

His Gryffindor lover never responded well when Draco got fed up with his nerves. But sometimes it was irritating. The constant reassurance could get exhausting, and sometimes Draco would end up snapping, or he’d begin to say cruel things that were very clearly not a part of their game. Their Malfoy vs Weasley feud that fueled their fire. It was good foreplay, insulting each other, and working it out through some aggressive sex. Draco was always pleasantly surprised at how much Ron could handle.

“Well after your little acting debut, I had to reward you,” Draco said, stroking Ron’s face with the backs of his fingers, “And I missed you. Especially after you didn’t cave last night. Are you sure I didn’t hurt your feelings?”

Ron shrugged, most likely meaning yes, he had, but that it was okay. Draco smiled softly. “I’m sorry,” he said, “But you know how I feel. I want your friends to respect you.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Ron murmured, tugging at the front of Draco’s shirt, “I don’t want to talk at all.”

“Is that so?” Draco cooed, grabbing Ron by the waist and guiding him backwards into the furthest corner in the room. “Okay, then, love.”

“Yeah?” Ron said with a pleased chuckle.

“You’re still talking,” Draco taunted, “If you’re going to keep your mouth open, do something better with it.” Ron was now back against the wall, and smiling expectantly at him. “Be a good boy.”

Draco had never intended to rope Ron is as a sexual playmate. It had never crossed his mind. Blaise had certainly laughed at the thought. That was until a few weeks into sixth year, when something had shifted. Maybe it was Draco’s own stress that had caused him to act so self-destructively, suddenly lusting after someone he hated. Someone he thought he couldn’t have. Ron had suddenly look delicious. He had a new, cool exterior that matured him, losing some of his goofiness. Guys and girls ogled him, and he brushed them all off. A rumor had sprung that Ron was hooking up with Potter, which made sense, but Ron denied it.

Draco now knew that that rumor had actually been true, but he couldn’t judge Ron for hooking up with someone easily accessible. Draco and Blaise had found themselves entangled more than once. But Blaise did not always give Draco what he needed, which was someone more malleable. Blaise was too dominant, too empowered. Good for a violent fuck, but nothing long term.

Catching Ron in the prefects bathroom one evening while everyone else was at a Hufflepuff v Ravenclaw match had been quite informative. Apparently Ron had been looking for some stress relief as well, and found solace in Draco’s dominance. He liked being bossed around, guided, choked, degraded, praised…everything Draco loved to dish out just to watch him squirm and hear him moan.

“You’re amazing,” Ron breathed heavily against his lips about twenty minutes later. They both knew McGonagall would likely stay gone the entire two hours, but they didn’t want to risk it.

“Thank you,” Draco replied smugly, zipping up his pants. He was about to walk away, but Ron pulled him back, a questioning look in his eye. “You’re amazing too, love. Always.” He knew it wasn’t enough. “You always know how to make he feel good.” He felt Ron smile. “We should probably get back to work.”

“Just clean them with magic,” he whispered, going straight for Draco’s neck again, “I know you can.” He moved up and kissed his jaw, then his lips. “Then we can just…be here.”

With a pleased chuckle, Draco lightly kissed him a few times before pulling out his wand and performing a few quick cleaning spells, before tucking it back away, and turning his attention to his favorite Gryffindor. Running a hand through Ron’s hair, he said, “Just be here? You are precious.”

“Well,” he said with a smile, “I’m happy. When I’m with you, I’m happy.” He said this often, and it never failed to make Draco feel giddy. But then Ron added something new. “I feel safe.”

Safe.

Draco wrapped his arms around Ron tightly, and enjoyed the tiny noise of pleasure he made. He kissed Ron on the side of the head. “That’s probably a little delusional,” he whispered honestly. Because, truth be told, Ron was not safe with him. Not strictly speaking.

“Everything we’re doing is delusional,” Ron whispered, “Let me be delusional, it feels good.”

“Okay, love,” Draco replied. “You’re right.” He was. They were caught in a bubble. A bubble of delusional happiness, using each other for physical affection, and even emotional affection. Spoon feeding it to each other as they had both been starved. Draco needed Ron, his submissiveness, his ego stroking, his sweetness. His ability to build Draco up when he was down. And Ron just wanted anything. Anything Draco had to offer. One kind word, then two. Then showering him with praise, giving Ron his full attention, as long as they were alone.

It made him happy to see Ron happy. So they stayed in their bubble. They longed for it. Ached for it during the day, waiting for the next time they could touch each other. Bring release. Relief.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a sharp pain in his neck. “Ow,” he said, “Fuck.”

“Pay attention to me,” Ron whined; half teasing, half not.

“Needy,” Draco chided, leaning back to look at his pout, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” He grabbed Ron’s tie and yanked him forward, “I need a full day with you.” He trailed his fingers along Ron’s cheek and up through his hair.

“A full day?” Ron repeated, his eyes twinkling in a way that made Draco’s stomach flutter, “Can we?” He looked so hopeful. “Please?”

“I’ll try to figure something out,” Draco replied, bringing his hands down to Ron’s waistband, running his thumbs along it while he held his waist, “I am warning you though,” he said with a smirk, “After a full day with me, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“I like that warning.” Ron pushed himself closer, Draco’s hands in the vicinity that they were was making him antsy. “Soon?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Draco murmured. He felt Ron’s hands run up his abdomen to his chest, and took a deep breath. “You’re already ready to go again aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Ron smiled devilishly.

Draco considered it. He loved how insatiable Ron could be, but he also had to be careful. He adored Ron, yes. He loved to see him happy, sure. And more than anything he loved making him cum, especially just by fucking him. However, he always needed to give little reminders of who was in charge. They’re dynamic depended on it. If Ron gained too much power, they would get bored. But that also meant he had to try for it, which was all part of the game.

Therefore, predictably, Ron pulled Draco against him and attacked his mouth, prying it open with his own. Draco let him guide, toying with him. He could sense his Gryffindor’s confusion and hesitation after a few seconds, which was when he backed away and swiftly grasped Ron’s throat, firmly, but not squeezing hard -Ron could be a bit touchy about his throat at times, so Draco always started gently- and looked at him smugly.

“Maybe next time,” he said while Ron bit his lip and turned pink. “Oh, now you’re just playing dirty.” He had a weakness for Ron biting his lip, especially with Draco’s hand around his throat, and Ron knew it. He released his grip and shook his head. “Not tonight.”

Ron huffed and rolled his eyes, but with a half-smile. “You can be such a pain.”

“So can you.”

Draco walked up to Professor McGonagall’s desk, and Ron followed. It always somehow felt strange being in an empty classroom after hours. Like trespassing. Of course, it may have had something to do with them just having shagged in the corner. Draco felt Ron’s hand slide into his, and he rose it to his mouth and kissed it.

“Three weekends,” he said with a sly smile, “Seven nights left. Just you and me. How’s your head?” A tiny pang of guilt twinged in his stomach.

“Fine,” Ron replied, squeezing his hand, “Worth it, even though you didn’t mean to.”

It was true. They hadn’t exactly planned the parameters of the faux fight, but Draco had certainly not meant for Ron to injure his head in such a way. But the result had been exactly what they had expected, which was a great relief. Ron had been getting nervous about his friends asking him where he was. And he kept saying that Potter had a way to see where they were, so if they were ever together, it had to be in a way that made sense. Or when Potter was distracted by something else. Draco never really understood, but strangely he trusted Ron, and always worked around these rules.

Draco had been struggling with his own problems of sneaking around, but his issue was with Snape. His godfather was keeping a close eye on him, snipping at him every time he caught him sneaking around. And there was no way in hell Snape could know about his affair with Ron Weasley.

So the detentions had been lifesavers. They had a reason to be together. Alone. And even after hours.

“Worth it,” Draco agreed, he glanced at the clock, and then down at their hands. “We should probably start putting those cages back.”

“Mm, no,” Ron instantly replied, instead bringing their mouths back together. He kissed Draco softly, and then bit is bottom lip. Draco groaned, in pleasure yet also in impatience.

“Stop it,” he whispered harshly. Too harshly. He backtracked before Ron’s eyes could go sad. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just…the time, Ron. We can’t risk it.”

They rested their foreheads together briefly, always hating an end to their time. When Draco pulled back, he kissed Ron on top of the head, and then walked back to his table just as Professor McGonagall walked in. She strode to her desk and sat down, telling them they could go as soon as the cages were put away.

Draco and Ron walked back and forth from the tables for the next few minutes, and once the cages were all put away, they both left.

Draco was about to walk off but very suddenly he was grabbed, and being pulled against Ron’s body as he fully kissed him again. In the middle of the hallway. Draco opened his eyes to quickly glance around. When he saw everywhere around them was unoccupied, he allowed himself to fall into the kiss. It was daring, and bold, and clearly one last attempt to play for power. Draco was about to pull away when Ron did first, stepping away from him, smirking, and walking away.

Git.

But Draco smiled to himself, his lips tingling. He could be proud of Ron when he got the last word, or move. He could also enjoy the fact that Ron felt comfortable enough to push his buttons. Ron just itched a scratch for Draco that he didn’t even know he had. He filled every blank space in Draco’s life. His emotions. He fit so perfectly that Blaise couldn’t even take issue with it. Blaise had fallen prey to Ron’s charm as well, but only enough to where they flirted scandalously. But Ron would never take it a step further. He was too much Draco’s. Ron didn’t need to wander, not even back to Potter, who was now interested in Ron’s sister. Disgusting. How could Potter go to something so…mild, so plain, so homely…after having Ron. Draco severely judged him for this.

“How was detention?” Blaise asked with a sly grin, sitting up onto one elbow in his bed as Draco returned.

Draco glanced around the dorm as he stepped closer to Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle were already asleep with their mouths hanging open. Draco stood between his and Blaise’s beds to undress.

“Excellent,” he replied.

“I am jealous,” Blaise said with a sigh, “Truly.” He openly watched Draco as he slid out of his school shirt. And when he turned to grab a t-shirt from his trunk, he heard Blaise chuckle, “I do love it when they break the skin.”

Draco straightened and looked over his shoulder, pulling it forward so he could examine his back, and noticed the 3 evident scratch marks on his back. “Hm. Me too,” he said, tugging on his top.

He felt the way Blaise was looking at him, and when he got into bed he said quietly, “I’m not going to sleep with you while I’m sleeping with Ron.”

“I wasn’t asking,” Blaise snapped in a whisper, a very Ron-like pout on his face, “Pompous asshole.”  

Simply raising his eyebrows, Draco waited.

“Fine,” Blaise grumbled, “You could have told me before all that, you know.”

“Sorry,” Draco said with a chuckle. Blaise smiled at him good naturedly, losing his pout.

They both laid on their pillows, staring up at the ceiling. “You seem happy,” Blaise remarked quietly.

“I am happy.”

“You deserve it, Draco.”

~~~~~
It will get fluffier I just needed to start my plot, don't judge me yet 😭🙏