Chapter Seven

"Leave me the bloody hell alone Pansy!" Malfoy yelped as he shut the door to his private bedroom close. "Go find some other hump toy, you pug-faced beast." He muttered under his breath.

He was disgusted with those in Slytherin. They were all creatures hell-bent on obtaining money, power and sex. Though some were attractive and could use their sex to their advantage, many of those pathetic schoolmates of his broke down every time he seduced them.

Draco headed to his bathroom, thanking the stars for his father's influence over the school. Draco peeled away at the layers of that damn school uniform.

"The school," he sighed, peering into the mirror over the sink, "the one thing that's bricked me in and broke me down."

Actually, the students in the academy that are held there are what tore the Malfoy heir down. Reaching over to the shower fixture, he turned the water to full blast, steam instantly rose.

The people were just a blur to Draco. A wave of monotony, with faces and names obscure, that drained him effortlessly. He could get anyone of them and nothing could shock them. They were insipid pawns on his road to pleasure that would lead to the end of his 7th year, sooner or later. Every single person in this castle was bland in foreplay, in bed and in climaxing.

Draco stepped into the shower reveling in the heat as liquid purity and innocence, that is water, slip and slide down his refine skin. There was one exception though, to the blandness of the school. Ronald Weasley. A vibrant boy, a frequently choleric, young man who was willing to make a subservient bitch out of Malfoy in a few minutes. He made Draco go down on him their first time yet he didn't need to be seduced. Ron was the type of person who you either had to completely take or be completely taken by his rudimentary charms. This boy was poorer than poorer, in Draco's eyes, yet he seemed to be rich in happiness and it captivated Draco to the fullest.

Draco began to scrub his body with a lavender scented bar of soap. Rich and happy is what many people perceived Draco to be or only that he was cold to keep people away from his money or because of his father. He heard what many people said about him being his father's little whore, that that's why he had his own room ("So Daddy can Floo his way into his son's bed."). On the contrary, his father never molested him but his aggression towards and the constant reminder of his wealth was his father's way to keep his child's mind on the money and prestige that was to become of him in the future. He had to be responsible with it.

After a quick shower, dressing in his personal black silk pajamas, he sat in front of the fire in his room. He quickly went back to his musings of Ron. He wanted to figure out his standing with school, friends and family but all he wanted to think about was Ron. School was boring, friends were non-existent because they all wanted to be in cohorts with him or to get closer to his money and power, then there was family who he didn't give two squirts of piss to care for.

All he had was Ron. His and all his. Well, until tonight. After Ron had apologized for his actions, they melded together desperate to find the others warmth but mainly to find the yearning that was deep within them. Draco was amazed at how he frequently reached out to touch Ron. Maybe he did it so he could reassure himself that this boy was still there.

Ron to him was his choleric angel, his angered, emotional and fire angel. He was the personification of fire sent here to melt Draco's heart. And secretly he had achieved it. That was why Draco ran off. He couldn't stand to deal with those feelings, foreign and new, yes. Scary, unreliable and hurting, yes. He was afraid to be hurt. Draco Malfoy was afraid to be in love.

He was pathetic. He knew. It was all his bitter heart and mind could think about. He was fragile; he wanted to be perfect all for Ron. He wanted to be good and brave like Potter, seeing as how that was the one person Ron would never turn away. He wanted to be that person. He wanted to be everything Ron desired in a man. Draco knew he could do it and love that boy until the day he died. That's where the notion of hurt came in; he knew his father would never except Ron but he wanted to devote all his time to him.

It killed Draco; he wanted Ron but he just ruined it. He didn't want Ron on his knees in anyway, shape or form. Yes, he delighted in the pleasures that was Ron but he wanted to please him. He needed to hate Ron from now until eternity.

"I love him." Draco sighed aloud. "I want, yearn, desire, care for him and what ever else you want to say."

He smiled to himself. He loved Ronald Weasley; he was willing to give up all his riches and status just to be with Ron. He wanted to live in Ron's house. The Burrow it was called.

"I want to live in the Burrow!" he shouted.

He loved the Burrow actually. His parents had a summer home in the mountains behind that house. He would imagine who would possibly live there. Then he found out that was the Weasleys' domain and he was excited. It was rather new to recognize that he actually had some feeling for Ron before this moment. The Gryffindor was the reason he questioned his sexuality, the reason he explored, the reason he filled up his time until he was with Ron.

Now he was with him but now he must make it official. He must tell of his desire to please Ron. He must tell his love he would be willing to leave everything behind and be the housewife. How he loved him.

A remarkable idea popped into his head; he would tell Ron tomorrow! Everything would be perfect after their first class together. Care of Magical Creatures was tomorrow. He would tell then or right before breakfast. He didn't want to spoil it all by having too many people know about this. He wanted Ron to himself.

With a smile tugging at his lips, Draco slipped into his bed.

"I think I'll leave my hair untouched tomorrow. Ron did say he like it like that." He murmured as sleep over took him.

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