Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. This story is purely for entertainment purposes only. I am
making no money from this.
Notes: Draco awakens. He and Ron have one more pleasurable moment, then return to Hogwarts. Draco then gets some
much needed rest.
Draco sighed in contentment as he came to wakefulness. For the first time in days, he felt clearheaded. However, the
contentment that he felt, gave way to dread and confusion. Dread . . . because of what had almost happened with that Satyr.
Confusion . . . because of what DID happen with Ronald Weasley. Draco had expected the redheaded Gryffindor to laugh and
joke about Draco’s odd predicament, his heritage. He had not expected Weasley . . . Ron . . . to make his first sexual
encounter the most mind-blowing experience of his young life.
Draco had never felt anything so thrilling, so satisfying, before in his entire life. It was like flying, and yet it wasn’t . . . there
were no words that Draco could think of to describe the feelings that had been produced inside of Draco’s body. Speaking of
inside Draco’s body . . . Draco quickly became aware that Ron was still inside of him.
He gulped nervously, pulling himself slightly away from Ron’s warm body and looking down between them. Ron’s length was
indeed still imbedded within Draco’s body, a fact that left Draco’s skin tingling in excitement. Ron’s semi-erect length just felt
so strange and so wonderful . . . he shuddered, his mind debating over what he should do.
On the one hand, Ron was a Gryffindor . . . a rival house and a member of a family that were enemies with the Malfoys, and
Draco no longer felt the rampant sexual desires coursing through his veins that demanded satisfaction. However, on the other
hand . . . they were both here and ready . . . and who knew if he’d ever get such an opportunity again. It wasn't all that
difficult a decision to make in Draco’s honest opinion, his body was definitely willing to pursue more pleasing activities at this
moment in time.
Draco let his eyes wander over Ron’s features, finding a strong urge still deep within him. It wasn’t the desperate need to
mate now, yet it was just as insistent . . . like something tugging at the strings of his soul. He wanted something with this
young man, not just a quick fuck . . . still, he knew that he would have to do with all that he could get. Ron wouldn’t want to
ever be near him again after today, not like this. There would be no repeats unless Draco took the time to do this now, to do
what was burning in his heart.
And so, he leaned forward, applying his lips to Ron’s in a gentle manner, hoping that the redhead wouldn’t react with anger or
violence. They had achieved what had been needed earlier that day, at least he thought that it had happened that same
afternoon although he couldn’t truly be certain. Ron might not like the idea of Draco touching him in such a manner now that
he wasn’t affected by Draco being in heat, by the pheromones the Slytherin had exuded.
Staying on his side, Draco pushed his tongue past Ron’s slack lips, tasting the hot recesses of his delectable mouth. He
groaned, feeling as Ron’s hands slid up along his body, sleepily caressing his skin. Draco smirked, taking note that Ron's eyes
were still closed in apparent slumber. This is fun, he thought, bringing a hand up and toying with one of Ron's nipples. He
brought the little nub to hardness, then switched his hand to the other, thoroughly enjoying his teasing as Ron’s skin rippled
beneath his touch.
Ron moaned into his mouth, just as Draco ground his hips against Ron’s, causing the length inside of him to move. A hand fell
on Draco’s shoulder, lightly pushing him away, and Draco looked up, only to see a twin pair of sparking gems looking back at
him. “Want more.” Draco whispered, punctuating his words with a sultry groan and a gentle rocking of his hips.
Ron closed his eyes and moaned softly, biting lightly on his bottom lip. Draco could feel Ron’s length harden some more
within him as Ron rolled his hips a few times. “All right.” Ron replied, nodding his head in agreement, “But this time, we go
Draco nodded, all too happy to comply. If they went at a slower pace, that meant Draco could enjoy the feelings for longer.
Ron rolled him over onto his back, keeping his hardening erection deep within Draco’s body as he gently moved the both of
them. Draco smiled up at him, resting his injured leg on the ground as Ron started caressing him, touching his body in enticing
Ron leaned forward, kissing along Draco’s collarbone, leaving tiny little bite marks here and there all over his chest and neck.
Draco was quickly immersed in the sensations, his own length growing hard with each touch of Ron’s callused hands . . . his
tender lips . . . his hot, slick tongue. He sucked against Draco’s pebbled nipple, nipping gently and tugging against it with his
teeth, giving the twin of that hardened nub the same wonderful treatment in turn.
Draco’s breathing was reduced to harsh pants and incoherent whispers for more. He raised his hands, twisting them into the
fiery mane of Weasley’s hair, clenching and unclenching his hands within the soft strands. When Ron finally took pity and
started to gently thrust, Draco arched his back and nearly screamed . . . it was simply wonderful.
Slow and gentle, that was the pace that Ron set with his languid plunges. He seemed dead set on taking things slowly, moving
with the utmost patience and control as he leisurely made love to Draco. Draco's eyes widened . . . was this what they were
doing . . . making love? He smiled, pushing back against each of Ron’s graceful movements within him, knowing it to be true.
This wasn’t just a simple fuck, it was more than that. Ron was being too careful, too kind in his actions. If this were merely a
fling and nothing more, then he wouldn’t be so careful. There had to be some feelings behind it.
Draco shook his head. No, they couldn’t get involved. They were enemies and nothing more, there could be nothing else.
Still, his body demanded satisfaction now, so he couldn’t simply get up and leave. He lay there, rocking his hips as Ron
continued to thrust in and out of him, enjoying every minute of the time they were sharing. Even if there would be nothing else
beyond this day, Draco would enjoy it . . . he wouldn’t forget . . . he would remember always that Ronald Weasley was his
After who knew how much longer, the end had finally arrived. Ron’s hand, slick with sweat, slid up and down along Draco’s
aching cock, pumping in a delicate manner. It took little more than a few sparse moments for Draco to release his seed, feeling
as Ron sent his hot fluids to flood Draco’s body after a few slow drives into the blonde’s mid-orgasmic body.
Ron carefully eased himself from Draco's passage, then fell to lay beside the Slytherin. They lay there, side by side, both of
them taking a few moments to regain their breath. It was obvious by the silence in the air that Ron knew this would never
happen again . . . the air was full of tension, of unknown insecurities. Draco felt an urge to say something, but he didn’t know
what. So he said nothing.
Once he could breathe relatively normally and had regained control of his arms and legs, Draco pushed himself to a sitting
position. He grabbed what remained of his clothing, pulling on his underwear and trousers, moving carefully with his injured
leg. He was distantly aware that Ron was dressing himself as well, but couldn’t bring himself to look over at the Gryffindor,
or to acknowledge his presence in any manner. He simply garbed himself, picking up one of the robes from the ground and
pulling it on over his body. Since he had no shirt to wear, he had to wear something. Luckily, neither robe was too badly
stained . . . that was a relief at least.
Draco couldn’t manage to get his one shoe on . . . his ankle had swelled far too much. So he simply sat there on the ground,
holding his shoe in his hand, looking down at it so that he could avoid looking in Ron’s direction. He just couldn't manage to
look at the other youth. His heart ached to tell Ron something, anything . . . but there was nothing that he could say. He
couldn’t ask Ron to continue seeing him, not with the feud that seemed to be going on between, not only their families, but
their school houses as well.
“Come on . . . let’s get you back to the school.” Ron said quietly, bringing Draco from his musings.
Draco looked up, taking note that the other youth was fully dressed. Ron’s school robe was slung over his arm . . . he didn’t
look like he was going to be putting it on anytime soon. Ron lent a hand in getting Draco to his feet, taking on most of Draco’s
weight to keep him off of his injured leg as much as possible.
Ron held his wand in one hand, then aimed it to the boulder. Casting the same spell that he had used to put the boulder in front
of the entrance, Ron moved it out of the way. Thankfully, Draco didn’t see the Satyr anywhere nearby. That was a good
thing at least.
Draco limped along, wincing with each step as he put pressure on his injured leg. He allowed Ron to help him as they made
their way out of the forest and back to the school, knowing that there was little chance he could make it on his own. The trip
was silent, not a word said between them, neither of them apparently capable of thinking of something to say in this awkward
situation. They both looked around warily, cautious of creatures lurking in the woods, and nervous about being caught by
teachers or other students once they got back to Hogwarts.
Finally, they both stopped once they were safe within the walls of the school. “Stop. I’ll make it on my own from here.”
Draco said, keeping his gaze averted as he spoke. “We shouldn’t be seen . . . people will only ask questions.”
“Yeah . . . okay.” Ron mumbled in reply. “You sure you’ll be okay?” He asked, taking his arm from around Draco’s body.
Draco leaned his side against the cold stone wall, bracing his hand there to keep the pressure from his throbbing injuries. “I’ll
be fine.” He replied, then turned and left without a word, sliding his hand along the wall as he walked. He didn’t dare spare a
glance back to Ron, knowing in his heart that he wouldn’t be able to walk away if he should look into those eyes of his again.
Draco made his way as quickly as he could manage, eventually ending up in front of Professor Snape’s door. He couldn’t
return to the dorm, not in the condition he had to be in. He must look a mess, he thought. He had spent his day on the floor of
a cave, and of course there was blood, sweat, and semen all over his body . . . the day’s activities had left him a wreck.
Besides, Professor Snape had many of his belongings, including his wand. And Snape would probably want to know that
Draco had taken care of his problem . . . that he no longer needed to be quarantined away from the male population of the
Just an instant before Draco would have knocked, the truth suddenly struck him. He had been on the bottom in two sexual
encounters with Ron . . . and his father had warned him. Oh, good Merlin . . . what had he done? Draco’s breathing
hastened, his heart beginning to pound in his ears. Father had told him, had warned Draco. Draco was capable of becoming
pregnant while in heat . . . and he had allowed himself to be submissive to Ron . . . Draco suddenly felt faint. He didn’t know
what to do. There was a chance he was pregnant . . . what was he going to do?
Finally, Draco knocked on Snape’s door . . . although his mind was nowhere near to thinking coherently about anything other
than the immense trouble he had gotten himself into. He barely even noticed as Professor Snape’s door was pulled open, only
becoming aware of eyes on him as a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
When he looked up, he was met with a surprise. His father was still here. Instinctively, Draco recoiled, falling to the ground
and whimpering feebly as pain shot up his injured leg. His father would punish him for this, he was sure of it. Lucius Malfoy
had warned him and Draco had ignored that warning . . . this would only lead to even more trouble. One didn’t disobey Lucius
Malfoy unless they wanted to get hurt.
Professor Snape pushed Lucius aside. He glared at the tall blonde. “Don’t distress the boy any further.” Snape said, then
knelt before Draco. “Are you injured?”
Draco nodded slightly. “Yes, my leg . . . my hands.” He said, gesturing to his leg, then showing the Potions instructor the
bloody scrapes on his palms. “I tripped.” He looked down, ashamed of himself, still clutching his shoe in one hand.
Arms circled his body, gently lifting him from the cold floor. Draco looked up, even as he timidly wrapped his arms around
Snape’s neck. “Mr. Malfoy, go tell Professor Dumbledore that Draco’s no longer in need of being kept from the other
students.” Professor Snape said.
“How do you know?” Lucius asked, his voice seething. He probably hadn’t liked being told what to do.
“I am still a man, Lucius Malfoy, if you hadn’t already noticed . . . I am not immune to the effects of a Veela in heat, as you
should well remember. I feel no urge to be with your son, not anymore, so my guess is that he’s found someone to take care
of that with. His appearance alone should tell you that he has.”
Draco bowed his head, holding back his urge to cry. He had whored himself out to Weasley for just a few fleeting moments of
ecstasy. Sure, it had been incredible, but what would he be left with now? Just a few memories and perhaps a child . . . that
thought alone made Draco want to weep. His father could very well disown him for this . . . a bastard child . . . it was too
much and Draco buried his face against Snape’s chest, not caring if he was thought weak for this pathetic show of tears.
Snape sighed as Draco cried against his chest, his young body trembling with each quiet sob that he made. “Go on, I’ll take
care of him.” He said, looking to Lucius.
Lucius nodded, although he looked rather reluctant about it. He cast one last look at his son, brushing his fingers lightly
through Draco’s dirty and disheveled hair. Then he turned and left the room, closing the door behind himself.
Snape shook his head lightly, feeling sorry for both father and son. True, he held no feelings for Lucius Malfoy, not now
anyway . . . but they had a history together. They had been friends once, more than that for a single night so long ago. He
shook his head to clear away these idle thoughts and strode into his private bathroom.
Carefully, he knelt, setting Draco down on the floor beside the bath. He left Draco there, filling the bathtub with warm, soapy
water. Then he knelt again, easing Draco out of his garments. As he removed the youth’s robe, he blinked, finding a
Gryffindor crest on the article. He closed his eyes, trying not to imagine who this robe could belong to. Instead, he set it
aside, knowing that he couldn’t ask Draco about any of this right now. The young man was obviously in no state to answer
Once Draco was bare, Snape helped the blonde into the bath, frowning when Draco seemed to be lost in his own mind.
Rolling up the sleeves of his own garments, Snape began the task of cleaning the shocked youth. Draco stayed still for most of
the time, only moving when Snape urged him to.
Snape emptied the water from the tub once Draco was thoroughly cleansed. He wrapped a towel about Draco’s body and
brought him from the bath and into the bedroom, cautiously drying his slender form. Draco’s eyes were falling shut, his body
succumbing to weariness. Snape tended to the blonde’s injuries, applying an ointment to the scrapes on his hands then
dressing the wounds as well as wrapping his swelled ankle and knee. It would do for now, they weren’t serious injuries. He
then dressed Draco in the pajamas that the youth had brought with him earlier, then tucked the young man into his bed,
deciding that he needed the rest.
Once Draco was settled in bed and slumbering soundly, Snape sighed yet again. This was bound to be difficult on Draco. He
undoubtedly would have to think things through. The robes that he had been wearing belonged to a Gryffindor. That alone
would most likely weigh heavily upon Draco’s conscience. It was well known that Draco and most of the Slytherin population
didn’t like Gryffindors . . . they were enemies so to speak. Snape hoped that there would be no repercussions from this
matter, if only for Draco’s sake.
To Be Continued . . .