The breakthrough they had yesterday had beenfabulous! He had held his hand. He touched Ron and it felt electrifying; Draco sat down on the bed, his books and such pressed into his back. He was happy with what Ron told him, did for him. He ate and opened up...to Draco Malfoy. It was rather odd connecting with Ron in a way that wasn’t sexual sexually inspired sexually motivated or rage-filled. With each passing hour, each time boredom lapsed and daydreams awoke, Draco thought more and more of Ron’s well being.

He genuinely wanted Ron to be better.

He was so fragile that it was beautiful. The irony of Ron’s fall was too majestic for words. Draco knew that he was the one to restore the fateful fall of loveliness into the noble ferocity that was the old Ron. He understood that he was to restore the precious artifact of time, lightly brushing away the dust and cobwebs of forgotten maintenance, inspecting the bare threads. He could comprehend the meticulous care and energy that would be placed. He was up to the challenge and was ready to spend his lifetime preserving this piece of art for all to see. Even if he would get only an honorable mention years from now, all that mattered was that Draco desired, above all else, to assist Ron into recovery. Any way he could rescue Ron; he would.

Today was the eventful day that was Ron’s coming out to his family. Actually, today was when his family would come to Hogwarts and hear the tragic tale of his dissent. He could barely stomach hearing the details but Draco could only imagine what they would have revealed to them. He knew that Ron’s loyalty to his family would cause him to spill it all.

He had seen the surviving members clamor into the Hospital Wing only an hour ago. And few moments earlier, he saw Ron rush into the back room. It must have been horrible. He could only try and imagine what had happened.

Today was also something to celebrate...between the two of them and all of the others who littered the Hogwarts halls.

Draco had let the family have their time, though brief for some reason. It had been a few hours, the castle seemed bare and hollowed, as if they were the only inhabitants.

Draco got up, straightening his crisp white shirt. He hadn’t changed into his nightwear only to stay in a nice pair of slate grey trousers, previously mentioned shirt, and dress shoes. This was special and a Malfoy always dressed for occasion. Tonight would be nice and relaxing for Ron; he would ensure it.

He headed towards Ron’s room; he hadn’t the need for sneaking past Pomfrey for she seemed to knowingly look the other way to this circumstance. She decided to turn in early...much too early for her normal routine.

He knocked at the door. His response? A muttered ‘You know it’s open, Malfoy.’ Ron already knew his methods. He opened the door to see the thin teen curled in his blankets, staring out at the moon.

“I’m taking you out.”

Ron eased himself up. He felt like...like he had been raped again. He was horrible at the meeting, his thoughts were atrocious and all he wanted to do was die, forget, wallow, drown in overindulgence.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Weasel. I thought, in celebration of course, I could take you out to the Hospital Wing. I think it would be best for you...it’s open and if you begin to feel uncomfortable with me, Pomfrey is a shout away.” Draco declared. He was beaming. He was proud. He was nervous of rejection.

A soft smile settled on Ron’s lips, though not in his eyes. But when was the last time that ever happened? “I don’t think I could feel uncomfortable with you anymore. Now myself! That’s another matter all together.” He stood up, his sheet wrapped around him.

Ron was more than willing to leave the four corners and walls behind...the monotony of this room. Beyond them, he still needed protection with Malfoy and the sheet would have to do the trick.

Draco made sure that he was out of Ron’s way and followed after the young man. The trip was quick and quiet. They settled onto a cot that was near a window, moonlight palely filtering the room.

“So, how did it all go?” Draco politely asked.

Ron growled. “Disastrous.” He positioned himself so that he could fully look at Draco, making sure that nothing would happen, whatsoever.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I had known.”

“Yes you would have. You’re just like them. So pushy and into my business.” He stared blankly at Draco. He knew none of this was Malfoy’s fault but Malfoy was a good scapegoat.

“No need to be so offensive. I didn’t know. You know I would love to stay out of your business but with you trying to kill me-”

“-I wasn’t trying to kill you! You touched me after I said ‘no’. I thought you were going to harm me like he did. But because there were people there, because I knew I could take you on if need be, I let it all out! I hate what I did to you! I REGRET IT!” He shouted harshly. His breathing was ragged and he wanted to run again. “Don’t you think I hate what I did, the extent that I went to make sure you, he, wouldn’t hurt me? I’ve punched you out a few times, slapped you around, but I would never want to have you hurt so bad. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But that doesn’t matter to you.

“You don’t accept my apologies and it wears me down more to know that I will never forget how insane I am. I’m going nutters because he forced me to be. I am a nutter! I would never go to such extremes but I did. You’re not allowing me to forgive you, to forget, and it breaks what little shards of life I have away. I hurt, Malfoy! You obviously don’t see that.”

Draco’s eyes stayed grounded on the floor beneath his polished shoes. He hadn’t realized how much of an impact he had in Ron’s life. He didn’t think that it would be a rub in the face, a salt in the open wounds, fiasco. He wanted Ron better, not worse because of his beaten-in morals.

“As a Malfoy, we rarely accept a weakling’s apologies.” He sighed; he could never explain the backward ideology of Lucius Malfoy when he himself was beginning to question them himself. “But I accept yours, Ron. I accept it and I apologize for my ignorance. I never wanted to add on to your pain. Please tell me what else is wrong. What went wrong at the meeting?”

Ron pulled the sheets closer to his body. “I told them. He forced me to tell...tricked me. Dumbledore tricked me into telling them. He lulled me into a sense of security and I told. They thought it was all a joke – they thought I was kidding! A ruse! They talked about me with me there and never once to me. I felt so shamed, humiliated, worthless. I felt like I was being raped again.” The last sentence was murmured out.

Draco’s heart crumbled at hearing Ron say those words. Ron seemed so strong a few moments ago and now...he was empty.

“They don’t get it. They just don’t understand. Maybe if you explained it to them?”

“I can’t just objectively tell them. I was coerced into allowing that man to ram me in exchange for my family’s protection. I tried to be loyal. How can I explain that? Percy was there. He didn’t deserve to be with my family. He cannot comprehend how strong true loyalty to one’s family can be.”

Malfoy noted that Ron’s voice sounded so hard and grated. He remembered hearing something from his father about Percy’s defection and the rift that was torn between Percy and the Weasleys.

“Well, he cares...?”

Ron made some noise of dismissal. “Sure. He cares so much.”

“Sarcasm will get you nowhere.”

“Unless I’m you.”

“Nice retort.” Draco maneuvered his shoes off and folded his legs neatly on the bed. He, then, positioned himself so that the two enemies were facing each other. Ron looked up into Draco’s smoldering grey eyes. Somehow, the lack of warmth in those ice eyes was a comfort. They showed no pity, no shame, no awkwardness, no emotion that would embarrass Ron more. Draco was the only person who was strong enough, willful enough, to remain the bastard that he was all the while letting some compassion slip when Ron needed it most.

He really did fancy Draco. He really like the way Draco’s poised hands covered his so delicately. He really fancied the way his fingertips lightly dragged across his palm, causing shivers of...of...something to run through him. It felt good. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

“I should be you.” Ron said, eyes never leaving Draco’s. “I thought some pretty horrible things.”

“Oh, flattery is another thing that will get you nowhere unless you’re a Malfoy.”

Ron smiled. Draco smiled back. Each boy liked the other’s smile best.

“The reason I made myself tell was because I wanted to get them back for what they made me do. I loved them so much – and still do – that I was willing to go through what I have for them. But then the self-doubt you and your Slytherin friends made sure I recognized everyday filtered back. I remembered that each of them had their place in the family. The father, the first born, the rebellious one, the prefect, the twins and jokers, and the youngest and only girl. Where do I fit in? I don’t. I’m nothing special. And it hit me! Why should I have to be forced to do things I don’t want to while they took their freedom and happiness for granted? They live lives that I will never have. Not then or now. I wanted to see the look on their faces when they realized that I was the reason behind the continued success of the joke shop or the celebration of the promotion...all of it because of me.”

“And there’s you position. Lead alpha male. The one who protects his tribe, no matter what, to insure the future of generations to come. That’s very noble. Though all you Gryffindorks are suckers for the noble choices.” Joked Malfoy. He wanted to reach out and hold Ron’s hand. Could he do that?

“Thank you...I think. I just feel so bad for thinking like that.”

“Don’t. You saved their lives and now everything will end soon, once you tell me or someone who has been hurting you. You’re recovering...you’re angry. You’ve done the sad bit and now you’re angry. I would be too if I were in your shoes.”

Ron smiled a little. “You are the only person who seems to understand. You don’t pity me. You don’t coddle me. You still hate me. I like knowing that some things will never change.” Even though, deep down, he wanted them to.

“I don’t hate you as much, Weasley. In fact, I don’t think I can hate you. I wouldn’t say it’s indifference but some things must change. And my desire to destroy you is one of them.”

Draco took a deep breath and reached over for Ron’s hand. The two were silent. Ron tried to decide if he should let go of his grip on the sheet while Draco was regretting his actions with each passing nanosecond.

Right before Draco decided to take his hand back, Ron timidly let go of his protective barrier. The sheet pooled around his body and he laid his fingers on Draco’s palm. Draco, relying on previous experience, began to gently rub Ron’s palm.

“I believe you held my hand as well.”

Ron was startled; he was about to remove his hand but Draco quickly held tightly to it.

“Obviously, I don’t mind.”

“Neither do I.”

Draco had a sudden idea. Could this be the moment he was waiting for? “You know, today is Valentine’s Day.”

“Really? I can’t believe that it’s February.”

“You wouldn’t know...you haven’t been keeping up with the days. I want to know how you would react if I gave you a kiss to commemorate the holiday?”

Ron stiffened, removing his hand from Draco’s grasp. “Don’t.”

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I know that he said he would never hurt me. Let’s look at his overall record.”

“Ron,” Draco whispered, leaning forward to see Ron’s eyes, “I wouldn’t do anything to you. I would never hurt you. Believe it or not I have standards and certain acts do fall short. Rape is cowardly.”

“I can’t.”

He wanted to. He wanted to feel those lips on his...he wanted Draco? But want was evil for it sprang forth rape. He couldn’t deal with that.

“I just can’t.”

“Why not? Please. One little peck.”

“I can’t! Do you know what it’s like to have your sexuality taken from you? I can’t kiss you. I can’t let you kiss me. I can’t be intimate with anyone. I’m gay. Tease me all you want but that makes it worse. Me being who I am hurts so bad. He was what I am. He is me and I don’t want to be him. He took the one thing I could give intimately and personally and compassionately. He took my first kiss. He took my experiences! He stole them and I can’t ever get them back.”

Draco shook his head in dissent. He didn’t believe that. Ron could do anything he wanted. That was one of the reasons he lusted after the boy in the beginning. “Yes you can.”

“NO! I can’t ever get them back. You’ve been able to give yourself to-”

“I’ve never bottomed.”

“Shut up! You gave your first time, first kiss to any bloke, I assume, or bird – highly dubious – willingly. You chose that person. I had that ripped away from me. Kisses are demeaning afterthoughts to him. I had no say in the matter. I still don’t!”

Ron had never voiced – let alone focused – on any of those feelings before. He was breaking down. Tears stung his eyes and his throat burned.

“You do have a say. Why else would I ask you first?”

“I wish. The thing is...” Could he utter those three words that were bubbling inside him to Draco? Could he vocally admit to himself and Malfoy his feelings that clouded his world and judgement even more? “...I like you. I want you to touch your lips to mine. I’ve dreamt about it yet when I close me eyes to relish in the image of it, all I see is him.”

“Who? Ron, please tell me who?”

Ron ignored him. The man who did vile things to him was someone he used to trust and love. And now, his stupid loyalty prickled, causing him to now speak up about it yet.

“I though I could handle it. But I can’t.”

The blonde’s heart shattered a piece at a time. Each tortured word that passed Ron’s lips, hardened and pierced Draco’s heart. He placed his hand on Ron’s tense shoulder, calmly massaging it, coaxing it, along with the rest of its body, to relax and trust his touch. Draco, once he was sure that Ron loosened up a bit, ran his hand up the side of Ron’s neck, resting it against his cheek.

The reassuring actions of Draco caused a wave of...of...pleasure to ripple through Ron. It was dirty though he knew Draco wouldn’t, couldn’t, hurt him. Finally, someone knew how to touch him and make he enjoy it thoroughly.

“Would I hurt you?”

“Yes.” Ron whispered, a smirk tugging on his lips.

Malfoy knew he was kidding but this was serious. It all came down to this moment. Did Ron trust him? “Now. Would I hurt you now?” He moved his other hand to Ron’s right, taking it gingerly in his own.

“No,”

The look in Draco’s eyes gave it all away. Ron pleaded mentally that Draco would just ask. Please just ask.

“May I kiss you?”

Ron weakly nodded his head. He knew that this was one of those defining moments in life where one would decide which fork in the road totake. Ron was blind to all of his choices except for one: continuing to slowly fade away. However, Draco, like he knew earlier on, could possibly be the beacon that he so desperately needed.

Draco suddenly had butterflies in his stomach. He had kissed many people in his life before but that didn’t matter for this was the only one that counted. This kiss was the life-changer...he knew it.

Draco closed the gap that was between them. He brushed his lips against Ron. He could tell they were tight, fused together to ensure no breach will be obtained.

It was far from spectacular. It was quite juvenile to Draco. He hadn’t let go of Ron’s hand and he continued to lovingly stroke Ron’s cheek.

“So?” Draco asked expectantly. “Was that bad?”

Ron shook his head. “No.” His voice was watery. Draco knew he was crying and his hand that stroked Ron’s cheek was wet.

“Ron, you have to take control of this. It’s me, not some rapist.”

The words that tumbled out of Ron’s mouth shocked both boys.

“Try it again.”

Draco eagerly placed his lips over Ron’s. He didn’t move them. He didn’t want to confuse or scare Ron.

The redhead was terrified on the inside. He had never thought about a kiss being so innocent. Ron squeezed Draco’s hand and leaned into his touch. This was so remarkable. He could hardly imagine that a person could touch another and not want more. Not initially at least. Ron had forgotten about those days where a kiss was just a kiss.

“Better?”

“Much.”

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