believe in the dream (pyreflies) wrote,
believe in the dream

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and the people on my friends list go 'WHAT THE ASS IS THIS'


Title: Addictive Strawberries.
Author: ME! >:O I PWN.
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Ron / Draco.
Summary: Ronald Weasley wonders how he ever wound up with Draco Malfoy as a bed partner and why he sticks around, as well. What he realizes is that it all has to do with strawberries. :O What an addiction! WRITTEN BECAUSE I WAS CRAVING STRAWBERRIES AND SLASH.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and STUFF created and owned by J. K. Rowling, along with various publishers including, but not limited, to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books. Also Warner Bros., Inc. I WISH I WERE MAKING MONEY BUT I AM NOT. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended. ...El oh el.

He couldn't put his finger on when it all began or what kept him there.

* * * * *

Perhaps it all started that day in sixth year. Draco Malfoy sauntered over to the Gryffindor table, looking so insufferably smug that the expression sent a chill down his spine. Hermione gave them both a worried glance, and Harry clenched his fork so tightly in one hand that his knuckles blanched.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron remembered Harry had spat irritably, as though Draco were some sort of contagious disease that he didn't fancy catching.

The blonde Slytherin produced the folded edition of that day's Evening Prophet article from the inner pocket of his robes. With flourish, his satisfaction growing ever evident as his grey eyes glittered with malice, Draco slammed it down on the table in between Harry and Ron's plates. The ends of the paper fluttered in protest before falling limply and Hermione's glass full of pumpkin juice gave a threatening rattle. "I do believe the front page will be of great interest to you both." His head then turned and Ron bristled instantly as Draco focused on him, looking particularly cruel. "And you'll find something far better concerning your father on the fifth page, Weasley." As he spoke, the faint smell of strawberries hung in the air. It was something Ron couldn't help but notice with their faces so close. "No need to thank me for it. I know how you can't afford the knuts to pay for what others take for granted, after all." The Weasley's hands twitched reflexively under the table out of sight as Draco slipped back with a laugh and swept away.

Aside from Lucius Malfoy escaping from Azkaban prison, as it turned out, Arthur lost his job the night before. The news was hardly all that much of a surprise, considering the feud that persisted between Percy and his father when his brother had been promoted by Fudge as an acting Minister for Magic. It was only a matter of time before one grew fed up with the other and a fight broke out between them. While Ron's mood was effectively soured for the rest of the evening learning this through someone he couldn’t stand, Ron couldn't help but think of strawberries for the rest of the day.

...But perhaps it wasn't that day at all. It might have been in seventh year. The pair rolled around on the floor together, Ron was flailing his arms in attempts to punch every inch of Malfoy that he was capable of reaching. Sometimes he would miss, other times he was rewarded with the sweet sound of Draco crying out as he struck a blow.

Lost in adrenaline, Ron was only barely aware of the fact that he had been hit back. Of course, he could feel his lip split and the taste of copper in his mouth, but he was numb to the pain.

Draco thrashed and twisted beneath him when Ron scrambled on top. Somehow, something that was beyond his understanding at the time, Ron had managed to have both of his legs effectively pinning the smaller youth while one arm alone was sufficient enough to keep the blonde from retaliating. With his hair mussed and his expression feral, Draco almost looked something akin to a wild animal. He snarled, then snapped; it truly amazed Ron how the other, even in his current predicament, could still insult someone who obviously had an advantage. Wound with words when one can't wound with fists, Ron figured. As to be expected, the scathing remark earned Draco a fist to the face, their awkward positioning failing to soften the blow. The Slytherin's head snapped to the side, exposing the pale column of his throat, his jaw clenched together so tightly that there were lines of tension that Ron could easily follow along the edge of the other's face down towards the chin. A blush of purple made itself known instantly, becoming a rather unsightly blemish on the otherwise unmarked complexion. It would be a brilliant shiner. He'd have to pat himself on the back for it later.

It was with a grimace and pure defiance when Draco eventually turned his head back to Ron. His grey eyes were as cold as they had ever been and they bore in Ron's own. In the harsh breaths that were exchanged between the two of them, there was something so prevalent that he found he wasn't able to ignore: in the air lingered the smell of strawberries, though it was slightly offset by that of blood. Ron found himself leaning forwards as if beckoned by it.

"Ron!" Harry appeared down at the end of the hall and was hurrying towards them. Draco, who had stilled momentarily, began to fight for freedom once again. This time, he obtained it. It was with a fierce knee that the smaller boy drove Ron off and he scrambled to his feet immediately. In fact, by the time Harry had reached what was once a battling pair, Draco had already given his usual sneer of the utmost disdain and was off around the corner, quick to retreat and nurse his wounds.

His fellow Gryffindor and best friend was kneeling by him not even a second later. Eventually, Harry helped in hoisting Ron to his feet. "What happened?" He asked, but Ron merely shook his head from one side to the other. The dust that had collected in his hair from the scuffle was soon sprinkled upon his shoulders. It was nothing out of the ordinary that had caused both to give in to the mutual thirst for violence. Malfoy just acted like himself and Ron fought back. As Harry assisted him in walking back to Gryffindor Tower, when Ron glanced back at the telltale marks of the fight he had just shared with Draco upon the floor, he found himself possessing a sudden craving for strawberries.

...Or maybe that wasn't how it went at all. Upon the eve of their graduation, the second war had been in full swing. Ron decided that he would take one last trip around the Quidditch pitch before retiring for the evening. Draco had the same idea. They met in the shed; Ron greeted the blonde with a glare and it was returned with an arrogant smirk.

Leaning against the wall on one side, Malfoy's lips parted. He obviously had venom to spew. "Thought you'd take one last look around, did you, Weasley? I imagine this place is quite the paradise compared to what you'll be returning to."

"Sod off."

"Not very friendly, I see." Draco replied silkily, feigning hurt, but like he was. The pupils of Ron's eyes, despite the limited light, narrowed dangerously. "What time will you be at Diagon Alley to beg for pocket change? I'd love to see it. Must be the only way your family affords to live, what with your father being unemployed... unless you've sold your sister into slavery." He laughed, having found himself to be quite the witty individual.

Ron, however, was less than pleased. He advanced across the wooden planks upon the floor and before Draco could even react, Ron slammed the blonde against the back of the shed. The noise echoed around them so loudly that it was deafening. Draco clawed viciously at the arm that connected to the hand bunched in his robes, strangling him. There had been intentions on seeing how far he could plunge his fist into the Slytherin's stomach.... He wanted to knock the wind out of the other, stop blasted Malfoy from saying such foul things about him and his family, especially Ginny, but in the end, Ron found himself unable to. Their faces were only mere inches apart. He could feel the heat radiating off the body in front of him. Once again, the particular scent that he began to identify as belonging to Draco and Draco alone invaded his senses. So sweet compared to whom it belonged. Ron's grip slackened, but rather than pin Draco with that and hold him at bay, it was done by bringing their mouths crashing together. Curiosity, one may have called it. That wondering of whether or not the disgusting little berk happened to taste like how he had smelt drove Ron to test.

Draco stiffened at the sudden assault, his jaw dropping in shock, but it was an unwise move. Ron forced his tongue into the wet cavern and set to the task of exploration, tasting every crevice that he was capable of reaching. The refusal remained adamant, however. Pale hands clenched the front of his robes and moments later, Ron stumbled backwards, having been shoved away.

They risked no words, only stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity. The craving for strawberries had returned with fierce intensity. Having indulged himself just a little, Ron found that he wanted far more. Yes, that's where it began.

* * * * *

There was a shifting in the bed at his side as his companion rolled over. Warm hands slide possessively over his bare stomach, curling the fingers around his pelvis. Ron's freckled skin tingled along the path they had traced. Blonde hair that was in a state of absolute disarray tickled against his neck. He stole a glance downwards and was surprised to see that grey eyes were looking levelly up at him. As if it were some sort of unspoken approval to a request that was never voiced, Draco curled around him further, claiming Ron's legs with his own. His feet were awfully chilly. Ron frowned with annoyance. Draco, however, blessed him with coy little smirk. He was feeling rather accomplished, Ron could tell.

"Awake already? Is it time to go out to Diagon Alley and rattle a can for a few spare knuts, pauper?" Draco asked softly, his tone of voice a bored drawl and still fighting off the remains of sleep.

Ron's frown of annoyance soon became a glare of disdain. Unwedging his arm from between their bodies, he slipped it beneath Draco's neck and brought it around the other. The moment his hand connected with the skin of the pale arm, Ron pinched him sharply. Draco hissed, pulling away from the hand, bringing himself closer so that his head was upon Ron's chest. There was the thought to perhaps repeat the action, just to further enforce that it was well deserved, but luckily for Malfoy, he refrained from doing so. "I hardly need to now and neither does my family." Strange how things change in time. How he had been before and how he happened to be now. Such a remark would have certainly been able to spark a rise, but now he could take it in stride. There was a soft clicking noise made by Draco's tongue in a disapproving manner, but Ron could feel the way the blonde smirked against his skin. His hand drifted gently up to Draco's hair and he gave it a tug. "I was just thinking about things."

Draco sniggered. Ron tugged on the strand of hair he held in his hand once again before releasing, allowing it to fall back. "I do believe this day needs to be marked down on the calendar. 'Weasley, for the first time in his life, experiences the sensation of mental activity. His reaction is proceeding to be confused about this development for the next hour.'"

Ron rolled his eyes. Draco was truly a charming and polished individual in the morning. Why he tolerated such abuse was truly a mystery... or perhaps it wasn't. Ron now knew full well his reasons for remaining. "Hardly, you bloody git." Was the caustic reply, but while his tone was hardened, they still remained together. Fingers moved over Ron's hips, tracing lazy patterns upon the freckled skin. Practiced and perfected. The hands that touched him skillfully knew where the most sensitive and receptive parts of his body happened to be located. He allowed his eyes to drift closed. Draco gave a triumphant smirk. "I was coming to some conclusions about a few questions I had." Ron’s words were barely above a whisper, carried by the breath that he breathed out.

This left Draco rather perplexed. "Oh? And what conclusions were those?" Both his eyebrows went up, creasing his forehead, and he looked at his companion, despite the fact that Ron wasn't looking back.

"When this all began..." He started, "I'm also quite positive I'm addicted to strawberries." Ron then announced slyly afterwards. With his one hand upon Draco's shoulder, the other moved to take his chin. There was an eager push upwards on the behalf of the blonde. Their lips joined together, meeting halfway, and it was the last intelligible words spoken by either for the rest of the morning.

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