All are 100 words, exactly, and given the nomenclature, these are
about Ron and Draco as a couple; in other words, they're slash. Please heed the occasional non-G rating and don't read them if
not interested. Unless otherwise indicated, these all occur within my Magic Immunity
Ron/Draco universe. If you enjoy
these, I highly recommend you checking out this LiveJournal community, rondracodrabble
. I tend to write one per weekly prompt. These are
listed with the most current first, older ones toward the bottom.
Title: Clothes Make the
Prompt: Black Tie
A/N: Set within my "Like Wine Through
Ron blinked, pondering Draco's request in silence for so long that Draco was certain he'd decline.
"I'd be happy to go," Ron said at last. "But I don't have anything that even resembles formal attire,
Wizard or Muggle."
Draco let out a breath he'd not realized he'd been holding, and the side of his mouth quirked in a smile.
"That I can help you with."
Later, at the tailor's, Ron stepped out of the changing room. The well-cut jacket and trousers showcased his athletic form,
shaped by surfing.
Draco devoured him with his gaze, lamenting that they weren't yet lovers.
Title: I Spy
A/N: Set within my "Like Wine Through
Draco looked at himself in the mirror, admiring his Glamour skills while squelching the guilt that threatened to make his
stomach churn. He wanted to watch Ron in his new coaching position— it was that he wanted to do so surreptitiously. They
were friends, but the way Draco's pulse sped up each time he saw Ron, this changed, earnest, frustratingly unhurried, sexually
confident Ron, he knew he would have to make a move soon.
Today, however, he would watch his would-be paramour
incognito. Tomorrow, perhaps, he'd find his spine again and go see
Ron in action in full Malfoysian persona.
Title: Passion Play
Prompt: Juicy Rating: Hard R
A/N: Written as a birthday gift for the
talented and fiesty liriaen
Ron pressed Draco against the unforgiving restaurant loo stall, kising his succulent, ripe mouth with abandon. Raw desire clawed
down his spine to throb insistently between his legs. Draco moaned, grinding into Ron's hip, sucking on Ron's tongue until Ron
felt dizzy and pulled away with a gasp.
A pink tongue darted out as Draco licked his kiss-swollen lips, glistening and wicked. "Home. Bed. Now," he demanded
"Just because it's your birthday—"
"I get what I want. Which is you, in bed, naked."
"And you'll be
Draco's look could have melted a pile of Galleons.
"Riding you, of course."
Category/Warnings: character death
It's been two hours— it may as well have been eternity. To his credit, Draco's not set the room ablaze with candles, nor
is it suffocatingly dark like a tomb. It's still simply Severus' room, except that Severus' soul has fled it. Flickering light
from the wall sconces has the decency to shy away, to reflect unneeded from Severus' form, unmoving and resolute, to Draco,
unmoving and shattered.
Stray flour clings to Draco's fringe; he is paler than marble, broken and abandoned by grief.
He is beautiful, and awe-ful.
Ron fights fear and nausea. He hates death. It's probably mutual...:~:..
Prompt: Thanksgiving Rating: Hard R
A/N: Set within my "Like Wine Through
Water" universe, a perhaps oblique interpretation of thanksgiving. ;)
He's done it at least once, but Draco casts a sunblock charm yet again for good measure. Thankfully, this is Wales. He actually
doesn't possess the most alabaster skin on the beach— though it's close.
Ron surfs brilliantly. Yet he gets fifth place.
Draco is incensed, though he acts as diplomatically afterwards (at Ron's pleading) as though the set of judges were Wizarding
Later, Draco breathes in the tangy salt and rustwine scent of Ron's groin, sucking the hard flesh and drowning in Ron's profane
gratitude. He ruts against Ron's thanks, swallows it whole, spluttering and gasping, but smug...:~:..
Title: Another Mirage Folds (from "The Other Side" by David Gray)
Prompt: Amaze me
I'm still stuck in my 'Crown of Rope' mindset, so this is set directly within it, but captures a pivotal scene from Ron's POV.
Thanks for indulging me.
"I dressed for you."
The words hung powerfully in the room, infinitely simple; casual. Draco spoke them matter-of-factly. It was as though it should
have been head-knockingly obvious to Ron that his new lover (and years-old enemy) would lounge in his doorframe, by far the most
desirable man who'd ever crossed his path, and declare Ron the inspiration.
When a drumbeat of worry feathered in the pulse on Draco's temple, Ron stumbled back into himself. Draco wanted to impress him.
. Ron. The world imploded topsy-turvy, but Ron still stood on his feet. Shocking.
"Oh, wow. That's
Title: Not Morning Blokes
Rating: PG (innuendo)
"Why are we still up?" Draco asked, burrowing his head into the warmth of Ron's lap. "It's nearly
"You've been chatty. Let's go flying," Ron said, his jaw cracking as he yawned.
Draco turned his head to look up. "Are you mad? And you haven't exactly been silent."
"Good way to see the sunrise." Ron shrugged, a sleepy smile on his face. "I've not watched one in
Draco shook his head. "How about we go to my bed and appreciate the sunrise there. Naked. Then sleep."
Ron yawned again. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
"I'm lying on it."..:~:..
Title: The Way to a Man's Heart
Prompt: Ice cream
"Why are we going to
" Ron craned his neck, looking at the Muggle sign before they entered the ice cream parlour.
"Häagen-Dazs?! What kind of bloody name is that? And it's December, in case you'd not noticed," Ron rambled on as
he was pushed through the door.
"Because I foolishly thought you deserved a treat," Draco said, his brows furrowing. "I know shopping in London
isn't fun for you."
"Too right," Ron grumbled, though his expression began to clear as he looked at the flavour listings. "Woah.
Sticky toffee pudding." He grinned. "That's all right."
"You're so easy," Draco sighed...:~:..
Title: Self-Defence Strategem
Prompt: In the line of fire
Rating: PG-13 (language)
"Are you sure you're not deaf?" Severus oozed anger and ridicule. "I said I'm not going."
"You're a rude arsehole," Ron growled.
"Surely you're not fighting. Again," Draco sighed, taking a sip from his snifter. "We're all going."
Mayhem erupted around him. Ron and Severus bickered, threatening each other's lives and manhood, all over a dinner
"If you two would just get along—" Draco proposed before they both turned on him, glaring. "Fine.
Don't," he drawled, menacingly. "Hex each other. I didn't survive the War to get cursed in a stupid domestic
"Neither did I," Severus sneered.
Title: Unremarkable Transcendencies
~The pale, serpentine trail across his abdomen,
commemorating a day when he could easily have died.
~How he took his tea: two sugars, milk enough for it to turn a satiny
~His firm handhold with Xavier; his supportive one with Severus; the perfect fit when his long fingers
intertwine with Ron's.
~How Ron's whole body throbbed with desire when Draco carefully, flawlessly shaved his jaw one
Independently, they were mere qualities to a man he'd once wanted to throttle with his bare hands.
Together, they wound around and through Ron's heart, affirming lives bound in quotidian trust.
Title: Avowal, Confirmed
He'd never been so overjoyed seeing the glint of russet across the room and not doing a double-take. He was back in England, and
like a moth drawn to the lure of fire, Draco approached the table where Ron sat with a relief so deep in his blood, his ears
roared with the sound. The internal noise thankfully wasn't enough to cover Ron's defence of Draco's honour and intentions
— despite their time apart and Draco's waffling. Ron's acceptance and obvious longing confirmed for Draco the decision
he'd made before returning: he wanted Ron to be joined with him.
Prompt: Spanish Home
A/N: Totally inspired by this post for the Spanish House prompt; a mere
continuation of a scene Liriaen so gorgeously laid out for us to feast on.
An incandescent warmth sends its tendrils down from Ron's chest into his groin when Draco's hand moves up from the roof and into
the awaiting terrain of his hand. His fingers spell "yours" and "now" into his palm, adding more words into
their already expansive unspoken vocabulary, usually of need and want. These are stroked expressions of entreaty and
contentment, the language soon changing to one of tongues and lips.
"They're watching," Draco rasps out, and once Ron figures out the offending voyeurs are wooly, he lets out a low
Draco's eyes suggest bed, naked and passion. Ron's agree.
Title: Genesis Effluvious
Rating: R (innuendo)
It's the scents that get Ron, that drag him under, that lead him to know beyond the shadow of doubt that his nose is
unequivocally connected to his cock.
The cedarloam of Draco's cologne; the faint odour of oatmeal and apricot of the exclusive soap he uses on his face; the
sharp, musky timbre in the hollows of his arms that is somehow as refined as the rest of him. A whiff doesn't leave Ron
aroused and aching — usually — but prolonged exposure, mixed with the smell of candle wax, is often spark enough to
generate Ron's favourite smell: sex.
Title: Words of Wisdom
Prompt: Don't Panic
Rating: R (language)
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?" Ron asked, belatedly realising that he was tugging on his hair. As though scorched, his hand fell. He
shoved both hands into his pockets.
"They're going to be here in a couple of hours! You don't know what George can be like— even with Remus
around him, he can be torture."
Draco's decidedly nonplussed composure transformed as he arched an eyebrow. "It's dinner, Ron. Not a hearing in
front of the Wizengamot."
"They're our first guests. Here. Our place."
"You're nervous. How sweet," Draco smirked.
Ron seethed, nervously.
Title: Painful Sanctuary
Rating: R (language), angst
He tilted the glass, quaffing the bitterstrong scotch. He knew Harry would've had some serious words for him, getting pissed
at his marker, a small birthday cake given in homage and memory.
"Weren't supposed to leave me, not like that."
Another burning swallow.
"And Draco. I told you, we're together. But this Xavier thing, well, he's still in the states. I'm here. I hate
it, Harry, fuck. I really thought he was it. Knew he was."
The hot salt of tears prickled warningly in his eyes. Alone, in the safety of the graveyard, he let them make their slow
Title: En prise
A/N: not really Magic Immunity universe
Ron had played chess since he was young. Bill, seeing a fellow mastermind, had been the one to teach him, as well as the person
who taught him a scorching spell to keep the twins away from the pieces. Yet, Ron hadn't seen the movement of players on the
board of his life; he was too close to them, perhaps.
Ron had his part: 'Weasley Is Our King,' remember? Draco, only sometimes queeny, pursued him across squares of time,
toppling pawns of mistrust and disbelief. Ron balked, waffled, strategised. Through devotion and lust, Ron finally surrendered;
handfasted, heart willingly captured.
Title: The Whispering Weald
Ron surveyed the small cabin, unexpectedly rustic given the creator.
"Your father let you hang out here?" he asked disbelievingly.
"Yes." Draco's jaw jutted, but he still held Ron's hand. "Contrary to whatever totally delusional ideas
you may have concocted about me, I wasn't abused as a child."
Ron paused, wary of the sparks of defiance glinting in Draco's eyes.
"I just didn't imagine you out here, in a forest."
Draco stepped over, breathing hotly against Ron's lips.
"It's quiet in the woods. When I make you come, you can yell my name as loud as you want."
Title: Artistic Representation
Warnings: bit fluffy
Ron slouched into the kitchen with a loud yawn and cracking jaw. In tandem with the ragged scratching of his stubble, there was
a rustling of newspaper.
"Thanks." Ron gratefully poured his cup, joining Draco at the table.
A package wrapped in riotously-coloured tissue paper caught his eye. "What's this?" Ron asked.
"Our Father's day gift." The newspaper was lowered so Ron could see the arched blond eyebrows.
A pause. "Shall I?"
Draco nodded. The present was revealed: a juvenile painting, two men, an auburn-haired boy in the middle.
Draco tactfully ignored Ron's sniff.
Title: Growling in the Lion's Den
Prompts: Burrow, blindfold, chocolate, swear (I got behind and combined four prompts into
one quadruple drabble!)
Rating: hard R
It took Draco a few moments to realise something was different. It was quiet. Not silent, of course, the Burrow could never be
that, not with its never-ending succession of russet-haired inhabitants and their various entourages, much less the house
itself. Draco was convinced that something indefinable — and probably anti-Malfoysian — breathed in the walls,
creaking in the stairs, moving his personal effects around. And it wasn't the poltergeist, either.
"You're not listening to me," Ron said, irritated. "The least you can do if you're going to sit there and
do indecent things to that fondue is pay attention."
Draco looked up, not that he'd been at all focussed on the liquid chocolate in front of him. He put his finger in his mouth,
sucking the warm sweetness off of it, earning a raised eyebrow from Ron across the table.
"Sorry. I had been listening— weren't you talking about us going home, now that this celebration is
Draco didn't bother to hide his frustration. They'd been there all afternoon and evening for George and Remus'
handfasting anniversary. It hadn't been his worst experience with the Weasley clan, but it had been several relentless
"Yes. Merlin, you really do tune me out when you want to." Ron looked peevish as he stood up and blew out the flame
under the tureen.
"We all have our skills." Draco barely managed to suppress his smirk.
"Stop being a prick," Ron said, obviously annoyed. "You swore you'd at least try to improve your attitude
about these family events. C'mon, let's go get our brooms."
Draco gave Ron a quick kiss on the cheek as he passed him on the way outside, but Ron seemed preoccupied. Draco was reaching out
for his Skyrunner when the door to the shed slammed shut. Startled, he turned around and saw Ron's wand pointed at him. His
pulse began thundering when he found his wrists bound behind his back and a blindfold tying itself around his head.
"What the fuck—" he exclaimed, his indignation silenced by a scorching tongue and Ron's wide hands pulling
their groins together. Draco passionately kissed him back, willingly burned by that fiery, possessive aspect of being a Weasley.
As Ron shoved his hand down Draco's trousers and he groaned at the touch of his grasping fingers, Draco decided there was
one part of the Burrow he could grow fond of.
Title: Come Not Between the Dragon and His Wrath
Rating: PG-13 (language)
A/N: the title comes
from King Lear
Draco glowered at Ron, his indignation barely restrained. It made his blood boil when Ron got into butch mode.
"Having a facial once a month is not girly, you insecure queer," Draco snarled. "It's good for your
skin. Merlin knows it wouldn't do you any harm to get one."
Ron looked stunned, rubbing at the several-days growth on his jaw. "It was a joke, bloody hell. Bite my fucking head off,
next time," he mumbled into the lip of his ale bottle.
"Don't be a fuckwit, and I won't get pissed off," Draco suggested, his anger fading to a simmer.
Title: Breakfast of Champions
Rating: PG-13 (innuendo/language)
Draco opened bleary eyes and yawned. A warm, wheaty smell approached, mingled with the blessed scent of coffee.
"Morning, gorgeous," Ron said with a prurient smile and ridiculously chipper voice given the hour of day.
"Hmmmph." Draco slowly sat up and looked at the meal his bondmate had brought in. There were orange slices, some
bacon, grilled tomatoes, coffee, and
he stared at the plate. "Did you make me cock-shaped pancakes?" he asked,
Ron grinned. "Yeah. Was thinking of you."
Draco glanced over to Ron's apron-covered groin. "What happened to your modesty?"
"Gone missing," Ron said with a wink.
Title: Uncomfortable Truths
Rating: Hard R/adult
Malfoy looked like utter shite, hollows under his eyes and hair as greasy as Snape's. Ron shoved the Slytherin against the
"Piss off, Weasel," Malfoy spat, pulling Ron closer.
Ron was kissed soundly, groaning at the friction of Malfoy's erection being rubbed desperately against his own. Malfoy broke
away, grey eyes shining with lust.
"You love this," he purred.
"Shut up," Ron growled.
Ron snapped back to reality as his orgasm fountained over his hand. Panting, he shoved away the page from Seamus' dirty mag in
He was fantasising about Malfoy.
Pornography had obviously made him absolutely mental.
Title: Behind Bars
Ron came around the bend to see Draco standing motionless, staring into the vast, jungle-like pen. Xavier paced behind him, his
scowl apparent once Ron reached them.
"What's wrong?" Ron asked, handing Xavier an ice cream cone.
"It's the panther— hey, this isn't mickleberry!" he pouted.
"The zoo is Muggle," Ron explained quietly. "The flavours for things are different."
Xavier pointed at the cage, eyes blazing. "The panther can't get out! It's like Uncle Draco's patronus!"
Draco turned, his expression contemplative. "This animal is wild and needs a cage. It could attack you. My patronus never
will," he promised.
Title: Family Matters
Ron winced as Draco's cousin Cassandra went through another series of snorting giggles that passed as laughter. She wasn't
awful, but Draco tended to cozy up to her when they all went out. Draco looked stunning, as always; Ron squelched a desire to
drag him to the gents and snog him, to remind him of loyalties that went beyond family.
Cassandra tugged Ron off to the bar. They ordered another round and she turned to him, her expression thoughtful. "He
adores you," she said, toasting him. "Draco has excellent taste."
"Thanks," Ron spluttered.
She laughed, soft and genuine.
"You nervous, mate?" Dean asked as Ron twiddled with his overrobes.
Ron shrugged, but the clutch of Snitches that seemed to have taken up residence in his stomach said otherwise.
"Can't say's I blame you," Seamus said, offering him a swig from his flask. "Last chance to say bugger this. Dean
and I could have you at our flat in no time."
Ron declined the liquor, certain he'd spew it up moments later. "Thanks all the same, but I want this. Want him. You think
I'm barking, but it's true."
"Handfasted to Malfoy," Dean said incredulously.
"Yeah," Ron said, flushing.
Title: Domestic Dysphoria
Rating: R (language)
A/N: Ron discovers
living with Draco isn't always easy, especially as they just start out.
Ron tumbled from the fireplace after a long day at St. Mungo's. Brushing the soot off his robes, he looked quizzically at three
piles of his things, heaped rudely in the middle of their new living room. As he tried to make sense of the groupings, he heard
Draco come down the stairs and turned, facing him.
"What're you doing with my stuff?" he asked, his tiredness inexplicably turning to irritability at Draco's
"Sorting. I'm rescuing you," Draco said blithely, draping his arm over Ron's shoulder.
"Your bad taste."
Ron paused, fuming. "You've got some fucking nerve."
Title: Flavour of Absence
Ron had glanced through half of the new Broom Enthusiast, contentedly lying in front of the fire, when he realised that Xavier
was uncharacteristically quiet. Glancing over, he saw Xavier cradling his mug of hot chocolate, staring into the crackling
"You okay?" Ron asked.
Xavier shrugged. "We didn't have snapping gingers," he said, his young voice leaden with melancholy.
"Sorry, I don't follow."
"Mum always had snapping gingers on Boxing Day. Dad would hide the box of biscuits and I'd find it."
Gratitude coursed through Ron as he heard Draco quietly leave the room and head toward the door.
Ron woke up, totally discombobulated and thrown out of a dream he'd had that was so vivid he was still shaking. He'd never been
in a Muggle aeroplane, and yet, the one he'd just been in had crashed, though he'd survived. As his breathing slowed, it slowly
registered that he had two hands full: one bunched at the sheets, the other grasping claw-like at Draco's downy chest
"Wake up," Draco said groggily, a warm palm fingering Ron's fist. "It's okay. You're alright, Ron. Hold
The relief shuddered through Ron as he spooned against Draco's skin, unrelenting and real.
Title: Draconian Art
One of Ron's least-expected skills was that of shedding all but his boxers and falling into bed with a speed Draco hadn't
believed possible. Sober, pissed, contemplative (on rare occasion), angry— Ron could be divested of clothes and sound
asleep within two minutes. Draco had timed him on multiple occasions, disbelieving it despite the evidence right before
Tonight was no exception. Back from an evening of clubbing, Ron had tumbled hurriedly into bed. Draco's gaze was ensnared by the
dragon tattoo on Ron's shoulder, an unexpected lovegift. He ghosted his fingers above it, Ron's pledge emblazoned on his
Rating: PG-13 (innuendo)
They've been together too long for Ron to get all that excited when Draco takes off his shirt. It's not perfunctory yet, thank
Merlin, but getting undressed and having sex is, well, rather well-known. Not that Ron minds it, of course; he'd far rather be
seeing Draco slide into their bed than not. Especially when he's nude.
Draco has gorgeous, alabaster skin.
Stupid annoying git never had blemishes even when they were at Hogwarts.
Not that Ron would ever admit to have been looking, even then.
Xavier loves Ron's freckles.
Ron feels as though he's suffered a permanent pox.
Title: Non Pater Familias
Ron was asleep, the slow rise and fall of his chest an inexorable magnet to Draco's gaze. Ron sprawled on the floor, jumper-clad
arm draped protectively over Xavier's side, both of them facing the fireplace. Draco wasn't far away from them; he'd been
leaning forward to rub Ron's scalp while Ron mumbled through some bedtime story of his childhood until both Weasleys had dropped
off, quite nearly in tandem.
Draco had been cradled; been sung to, been told fanciful tales while tucked into a riot of pillows and cloudscape of
But Draco didn't know how to be a father.
Title: Wet Remembrance
Ron wasn't much for rain. He was fairly oblivious to the meteorological happenings around him, unless startling, but slow,
steady rains made him fidgety and sour all over. That was, until two months ago.
Now he stood at the window, looking out at the unending, soothing rain that fell. It wasn't until he heard a knowing chuckle
behind him that he glanced down and saw he'd been subconsciously twisting his relatively new handfasting band.
Draco's arms wrapped around him, his fingers threading into the loops of Ron's denims.
"I was thinking of our handfasting, too," he breathed against Ron's cheek.
Title: Cousin, Know Thyself
Rating: R (language)
A/N: "The Ties That
Bind" in particular (after this scene, of course, he will send Ron that second letter)
"I'm beginning to worry about you," Cassandra said, pushing Draco's gimlet toward him. "I know that you've been
doing a lot of thinking about this. And you've been writing Ron, right?"
"Oh yes." Liar, Draco said scathingly to himself. Too uncertain to write. Too uneasy to write. Too fucking
unwilling to write what I really think. Or feel.
"So what does he say? Doesn't he really want you back? Dammit, Draco— you were happy. You're perfectly capable of
being a parent. Stop being such a martyr."
"Stop telling me what to do," Draco growled, eyebrows furrowed. "And stop being right."
Title: In the Parlour
Ron handed over his piece of paper with the Siberian Snegbog. The tattoo artist's gaze was absorbed as he looked it over,
tracing the feathers and the blazing eyes with his finger as the dragon glared from the page.
"Where?" he asked.
"Up here," Ron indicated, pointing to his left shoulder blade. "How much does it hurt?"
Ron hated pain, but his love and respect for Draco had long ago won out, and he was determined to have that made manifest on his
"Not that much."
Nodding, Ron stripped off his t-shirt and submitted to the relentless needle.
Rating: R for language
A/N: set right at the end of
'Walking Each Other Home', within the MI universe
"Stay with me."
The words, breathed across Ron's lips, seared themselves onto Ron's bruised heart. He'd thought he'd almost royally fucked up,
in one of those horrifyingly permanent ways; like a wrong word spoken that causes friendships to rupture beyond repair or, in
this case, a lack of trust so that Ron lost the one man he actually wanted to spend his life with. Not that he'd told Draco
that. But Draco had just asked him to move in. Gratitude churned in Ron's chest, making him nearly dizzy.
"I will," Ron murmured. "I'm sorry I can be such a wanker."
Title: Rogue Fan
"No, you can't cheer for both teams! That's unconscionable!" Draco exclaimed.
"What does unconshunnible mean?" Xavier asked. "And who says I can't like the Magpies and the Cannons?" he
asked through a pout.
"It means beyond reason. Excessive. Much like your uncles' obsessions with Quidditch," Severus said with a
"I like Quidditch, too," Xavier insisted, crossing his arms on his chest and pursing his lips in a way Ron found
frighteningly similar to his partner's. "I can like both teams, right, Uncle Ron?"
Ron gnawed on his lower lip. "Um
"Merlin," Severus growled. "Any sane person supports the Falcons!"
Title: The Virtuoso
A/N: sequel to 'Heat'
With a final lick, Draco cleaned the last of Ron's tangy fluid from his still-turgid cock. He looked up, certain that his own
satisfaction of a well-enjoyed blowjob was blatantly apparent on his face. It was Ron's expression, however, that bruised itself
on his heart, yet again. Ron's look of post-coital bliss was nearly blinding in its openness, as though any mask of pain or
worry had been torn away. Ron slowly opened his eyes, his countenance one of sated, blissful gratitude.
"You're amazing," he said, his smile innocent despite the mature activities they'd engaged in.
"I know," Draco smirked.
A/N: sequel to 'Suggestive
"I'll make it up to you," Draco said in a low voice, his cock hardening as he saw the lust flare in Ron's expression.
"I want you on your back in front of the fireplace, naked for me."
Ron quickly complied as Draco also removed his clothes. Draco had to pause, letting his gaze rove over the constellations of
freckles until Ron's erection beckoned, jutting from his fiery thatch of curls. Draco sank down, poised above the musky warmth
of Ron's groin, waiting until Ron's blazing eyes were focused on Draco's lips.
Draco exhaled a hot breath around his prize.
Title: Suggestive Lyrics
A/N: sequel to 'Games Lovers Play'
"I'll get you for that one," Ron promised.
Draco smirked. He ran his hands along the front of Ron's shirt, pinching his nipples into hard nubs through the fabric.
"I'm serious." Ron's voice rumbled into Draco's ear. Draco released a shuddered breath in response. "Remember
that one Muggle song? 'Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover'?"
"You wouldn't dare." Draco licked across the lush terrain of Ron's lower lip until he opened his mouth. With a
yearning, hot moan, Ron kissed back, pressing his chest against Draco's hands.
"You're right," Ron gasped. "But you can still make it up to me."
Title: Games Lovers Play
Prompt: Blind Date
A/N: sequel to 'Balance of Power'
Draco groaned a velvet, heavy sigh as Ron crawled up into his lap and tried to
straddle him. Draco's book was thrown unceremoniously to the couch to make more room for Ron's muscular thighs. Their mouths
feasted hungrily on each other, Draco's hands cradling Ron's head like a treasured porcelain. Ron pulled away, nipping along
"What if Snape walks in?" Ron asked, his tongue flicking indecently into Draco's ear.
"He won't," Draco said, arching his groin upward. "He's on a blind date. Mum's cousin."
"What?!" Ron squawked, nearly falling out of the chair.
"Merlin, you are so gullible."
Title: Balance of Power
Rating: PG-13 (innuendo) A/N: sequel to last week's 'library'
As Ron buried his face in his lap, sniffing and rubbing against Draco's stiffening arousal, Draco surrendered to his lover with
a rumbled sigh. Draco played the dominant much of the time: he set their social schedule, he planned their holidays, he had the
clout and money. In matters of sex, however, Draco was under no illusion as to who held control. It certainly wasn't him; he was
powerless to Ron's touch, his scent, his wide, tender fingers and clever tongue.
Ron looked up, hands splayed possessively on Draco's knees, eyes haunted with need and hunger.
"Come here," Draco groaned.
Rating: PG-13 (innuendo)
There was something about the dancing firelight which cast intriguing shadows from Draco's sharp nose to his open lap. Indecent,
really, the way he read, one foot on the floor, the other tucked up into his groin, leg splayed against the side of the opulent
chair. Ron found himself lowering to the floor and crawling across the lush carpet of the library to lay his head in Draco's
There was a low chuckle above him. "Tired, Ron?"
Ron breathed deeply of the wool trousers, and the diaphanous musky scent beneath them.
"No. You were too far away, that's all."
Title: A Friend in Need
Ron twiddled with the handle of his teacup, his thumb tapping the porcelain until he stopped, irritated with himself. He looked
up at his companion who regarded him with a weak smile.
"Don't even think it," Ron said moodily.
"Think what?" Hermione asked.
"'I told you so.' Just— don't even." He lightly ground his teeth, jaw pushed so his lower teeth raked his top lip. "He'll
come 'round. He will."
Hermione tilted her head, looking thoughtfully at him. "I hope so. I don't really hate Draco, but I loathe seeing you
"Not broken, just really bruised," Ron said softly.
Title: Consumer Alert
Ron rolled his eyes. "Madam Malkin's? Again?"
"Uncle Draco said I could get a new robe. Mine's too short."
"Don't mind Ron. He doesn't appreciate the joys to be had shopping," Draco said conspiratorially.
"Not true," Ron huffed. "Just not clothes. Quidditch supplies, now that's worth going out for. Broom polish, oiled
leather— those smells are brilliant," he said reverently.
Draco shook his head in disdain. "No sensation compares to the feel of hand-tailored silk draped on one's skin."
"I like George's joke shop best," Xavier declared. "And I have allowance money."
Ron groaned. "Fine, but no more pygmy puffs!"
Title: Sleeper, Wake
Ron sluggishly gets his bearings, squinting through heavy lids into the dark. There's low moaning and twitching limbs to his
right; the anguish threaded through the formless words means Draco's having a nightmare. Ron gets up on an elbow, now fully
awake and watching Draco's face contort in fear. Ron's at a loss: they've not been together long, maybe three months. Should he
wake Draco up? Or leave him be, knowing Draco is suffering, albeit in a dream?
He gently shakes Draco's shoulder, who jolts up, gasping and glancing wide-eyed around the room.
"Draco," Ron says soothingly.
"Ron. Thank Merlin."
Title: Booty, Arrrrrrrr!
Rating: PG-13 (innuendo)
A/N: Magic Immunity universe, set during "All That I'm Good for is You" (they're on holiday
in the Canary Islands, hence the beach theme)
Ron was perplexed. Draco was out snorkeling, so he couldn't possibly be manipulating the tiny treasure chests that kept popping
up: stuck to an ale he pulled out of their refrigerator; perched jauntily atop the bar of soap in the shower; dangling from the
lintel of the doorframe as he lounged against it, taking a pull of his beer and unabashedly ogling Draco as he sauntered up the
beach in nothing but a gorgeously indecent pair of swim trunks.
"What's with the chests?" Ron asked, flicking a glance upward.
"Not so hidden treasure," Draco said wickedly before licking Ron's lips.
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Ron lounged in a papasan chair, thumbing through a Quidditch magazine and sniffing appreciatively at the delicious smells coming
from the kitchen. Their holiday wasn't even halfway over; perhaps the isolation and boundless cerulean sea had prompted both
Draco and him to raise questions they'd never dare back in Wizarding England.
"Who was your first crush?" Ron asked, flicking his gaze at Draco while he concocted their dinner.
"Honestly?" Draco turned, arching an eyebrow and leaning against the counter.
"Wood??" Ron spluttered. "But he was a Gryffindor!"
"And a fucking elegant Quidditch player. I do have taste."
Title: New Beginnings
Rating: PG-13 (language)
The bare walls gazed blankly back at him. Ron wasn't sure why he was disappointed that the spartan spaces didn't seem more
needy; it just seemed wrong after half a decade.
"You ready?" Draco's voice sounded down the stairs.
Ron's feet appeared to be bound to the floor. With a desperate shake like a dog trying to rid itself of an irritating insect,
Ron forced his body toward the door, leaving his flat. He shuffled and stopped, the last box of his inane shite clutched in his
"Coming," Ron sulked.
"We'll make more memories."
These next six are a set written that corresponds with a triofic story I wrote which Ron/Draco with a side of Harry. Most are
adult and should be read in order from this one on.
Rating: PG-13 (implied m/m relations, implied nudity)
Sprawled out as Harry was, motionless, limbs akimbo with Ron hovering nearby, Draco had a sudden flashback to the triage during
the last days of the War. The rapturous moan Harry made when Ron at last touched his flushed skin thankfully banished the
memory. Jealousy skittered across Draco's consciousness until Ron turned and winked at him, setting everything to rights. This
was Draco's idea, after all, to include Harry's unexpected presence into their normally exclusive partnership. Bolstered with
the knowledge that Ron was his, and Harry was just a visitor, albeit with a very nice arse, Draco smirked and
"Ron," Draco said hungrily, the words managing to find the sliver of Ron's mind not occupied with enthusiastically
discovering how fabulous a kisser Harry was. "Come here," Draco purred.
Panting, Ron pulled away from Harry.
"May I watch? Whatever it is you do?" Harry asked hoarsely.
"Of course," Draco said as Ron walked the few steps to him, pressing against Draco with a heated sigh as their
erections met. "At least until you join in."
"Oh gods, you two are amazing together," Harry said, slowly stroking himself.
"You're a kinky bastard," Ron groaned against Draco's lips.
"And you love it."
Ron adored Draco's cock. It wasn't overly long, or thick; its proportions suited Draco perfectly, and Ron had been drawn to
fellating it from the first time they'd taken their clothes off. There was just nothing like the solidity of his hot, musky
flesh in Ron's mouth and the exquisite, erotic noises that cascaded from Draco's lips when Ron went down on him. Ron licked and
sucked with relish, grasping his lover's thighs as he leaned in and out.
Harry moaned from the bed.
Ron glanced up at Draco, who mouthed, "I love you."
"Want a hand, Potter?" Draco asked.
Title: Main Course
Rating: Oh so very NC-17
Total sensory overload.
Draco, on hands and knees, was clenching his channel around Ron's aching shaft, unable to cry out because he had a mouthful of
Harry's cock. Harry lay on his back, pillows propping up his head as he sucked down as much of Draco as possible. Ron eased
partway out before thrusting deeply into Draco's tight heat, hearing his lover's muffled moan from the other end of the bed.
Draco had demanded that Ron fuck him, joining their three bodies together in an erotic combination that defied
Ron held Draco's hips, intimately claiming him again and again.
Rating: NC-17 (no actual action, but hey, it is a threesome. nude men
Disentangling was rather disappointing after the chorus of shouts and moans as each of the three found his release. Ron pulled
gently out of Draco's body before turning him around to kiss him thoroughly. There was a rustling sound as Harry got his wand,
performing a Scourgify on himself. Draco turned around in Ron's arms, his back against Ron's chest.
Harry smiled up at them, his lax posture reflecting his satiation. "Wow. That was, um, pretty intense."
Ron laced his fingers on Draco's abdomen. "Too right."
"Well," Draco drawled, "having been thoroughly shagged rotten, I'm famished. Who's making me
Rating: PG-13 (but you all are free to fill in the gaps with whatever you'd care to
"I'm knackered," Harry said through a yawn, rolling his shoulders. "Guess I'll turn in. Thanks, y'know, for
"You're welcome. Certainly a great deal of the pleasure was mine," Draco said, stretching out his legs.
Harry snorted back a laugh.
"Hope you sleep well," Ron said, walking over and helping pull Harry up from his chair.
"Reckon I will."
"May I?" Ron asked, tentatively running a finger across Harry's lips.
"Sure." Harry leaned forward.
They kissed softly, banishing any of Ron's creeping doubts. It was Draco's mouth that felt like home.
"Good night, Harry," Ron said, knowing Harry would understand.
Title: Accidental Discovery
At the sound of a resounding crash, Draco and Ron jumped up from the table and ran down the corridor to the sitting room. Ron
paused in the doorway. Before him was an alarming sight of Snape, sprawled in a jumble of limbs, vase shards scattered around
him like menacing flower petals.
"Reparo!" Xavier exclaimed, pointing his finger at the pieces with an anxious, desperate expression.
Severus turned his head when two pieces of porcelain feebly mated back together.
"Uncle Sev had an accident!" Xavier yelped, looking for assistance.
"Well," Severus said dryly, "itís obvious weíre not raising a Squib."
Ron glanced into the bathroom and saw Xavier gnawing on his top lip.
"So, why?" Xavier asked, his expression owlish in its seriousness.
"Some things simply donít have a purpose. That we know of." Draco continued rubbing at Xavierís scalp, washing the
grime from his auburn hair. "Some things are just accidents."
"Dyingís an accident?" Xavier mumbled.
"Sometimes," Draco clarified, using a bowl to rinse the suds from Xavierís hair. "Your parents didnít mean to be
hit by that Muggle car."
Ron, chagrined, rested his forehead against the doorframe.
"Glad youíre with us now, though."
"Me too." Xavier smiled wanly.
Title: Hippocratic Oath
Draco looked over his list of ingredients to see what Ron was intently scribbling. "What on earth?" he asked, staring
at the intricate drawing, numbers and barely recognisable phrases scrawled in intertwined columns.
"Can't get that patient out of my mind," Ron said. "I know suffusion and ambric topography better than anyone,
but this was out of my league. Damn frustrating."
Draco gave him a hard look. "He was a Muggle. Shouldn't even have been there."
"I know," Ron said testily. "But I'm still a Healer."
"He wasn't magical. You couldn't help."
Ron scowled. "Doesn't mean I shouldn't have tried."
Ron was huddled on the couch, knees pulled into his chest, making awkward hiccoughing sounds as he cried.
"Ron! What's the matter?" Draco rushed in from the door. He sat next to Ron, holding him in his arms, worry curdling
his stomach. "Talk to me, please."
" his voice trailed off. He handed Draco the smudged letter. "Seamus. Committed suicide. Dean's out of
his mind. Nobody saw it coming."
"What?!" Draco continued his soothing gestures, mind reeling. They'd not been close, but the news was still
"Yeah," Ron sniffed. "If you're depressed, fucking tell me."
"I will," Draco promised.
Title: O Passing Wondrous
Prompt: no prompt
Dedication: For beloved Kaalee, on the occasion of her birthday, 20th
June. Also in as joy to her and copilot and their upcoming nuptials.
Everything and nothing.
Everything and nothing was changing; bonds, hearts, oaths. It was sweetest torture to Draco, looking so closely into Ron's blue
eyes, the tiniest slivers of green a gift Draco felt were there just for him. Constellation upon constellation, an infinity of
freckles; the chipped front tooth left marred from an 'incident' with the twins.
Ron got under his skin unlike anyone else; they'd had an earth-shaking row the day prior about the food at the reception. Now,
however, as he pledged lifelong companionship and love through death, he was wholly, humbly at peace.
"All mine be thine."
Title: Wroth Ron..:~:..
Rating: PG-13 (language; implied m/m relations)
"I'm going to kill him. Bloody wring his neck while Remus watches."
"Really, Ron— it's kind of funny."
Ron's pacing stopped abruptly. "Funny?! Being caught shagging? In the shower?" His face was the colour of beetroot;
Draco hoped he was still breathing.
"Xavier knows about men's anatomy. He knows what you and I do."
"He didn't need a fucking demonstration," Ron growled.
Draco tried desperately not to smile at the accidental double entendre. An undignified coughing snort exploded out of him,
"NOT FUNNY!!" Ron roared.
"Well, Xavier will probably think twice before he takes any more of George's dares."
Title: The Spoils of War
Prompt: First Kiss
Rating: PG-13 (language)
A/N: not Magic Immunity
Ron swore venomously at the irony in which the universe had decided to drown him. Draco lay on his back, a haze of green smoke
hovering above his broken body. Ron dropped to his knees, ignoring the painful stones.
"Malfoy," Ron moaned, cradling the combatant's bloody chin. "Not like this, not supposed to
" He leaned
down and kissed Draco's cracked, dry lips.
"Weasley?" The one eye not swollen shut blinked open. "What the fuck?" he wheezed.
"Want you. Only ever you, you bastard," Ron said, easing his anguish by stroking Draco's cheek. "You've got to
Draco coughed. "I'll try."
Title: Le premier [mal]fois
Prompt: First Kiss
Desire pulsed around Draco; it seemed to throb in the scant space between them.
"This is really good," Ron managed, lifting the crystal snifter.
Draco's tongue slid over his bottom lip. Hypnotised, Ron couldn't help but follow the glistening trail over rosy flesh.
"Brandy's okay," he replied, the silky voice virtually stroking Ron's awakening arousal. "I can think of
something I'd like to taste much more, though."
Long fingers traced his jaw.
Ron leaned down as their lips had their inaugural introduction, chaste and breathy. When Draco's scorching tongue slid into
Ron's mouth, Ron moaned, branded and claimed.
"Just a lick?"
"No," Draco said petulantly. "I was buying; you should've gotten two scoops like I suggested."
"I was trying to be less indulgent, as you've also suggested."
Ron watched the praline fudge ice cream languorously slide along Draco's pink tongue. Despite a third in their company, Draco
shamelessly nipped, suckled, bloody well fellated the creamy dessert. A shiver of arousal caused goosebumps on Ron's
"Do you like mickleberry? I'll share mine." Xavier held up the cone with a helpful expression.
"Thanks, but no." Ron looked meaningfully at Draco. "I'll wait and have an extra treat at home."
Title: Until we are parted
"What have you been so focused on today?" Ron asked, placing the requested gimlet at Draco's elbow.
"Standard pre-nuptial marriage contract. Haven't you drawn one up?"
Ron scanned Draco's expression for a hint of the joke; a suppressed smirk, the faintest of nose wiggles. Nothing.
"You really think I'd write up what your share of the Weasley estate would be in case I die before you?" Ron was
incredulous. "One thirty-second of nothing is still nothing."
Draco raised his glass elegantly to his lips. "If I go first, you're rich."
"Don't want your money," Ron said vehemently. "Only you."
"Were you lonely growing up, being an only child?" Ron sipped on his drink and renewed the low-grade swinging charm on
Draco looked at him with incredulity. "Lonely? No."
Ron gave a slight shrug. "Just asking. Monstrous house, no siblings."
"There were tutors, and I had friends. Pansy, Blaise and Gregory were only children, too. Seemed normal enough. It's your
family that's somewhat freakish in that regard."
The beginnings of a scowl settled in Ron's expression.
"Okay, not freakish," Draco acquiesced, wanting to avoid a row during their first holiday together. "Just
Ron smiled smugly. "Like us."
Title: To Thyself Be True
"I'm already moulting," Xavier said disappointedly. He looked at his arms where feathers dissipated in a golden
"Who started this tradition, again?" Draco asked, brushing a bit of lichen off the nearby headstone.
"Ginny." Ron dropped his hand to Xavier's shoulder.
"George and I toast him properly, but Ginny thought Fred wouldn't want people to be mopey. So an honourary canary cream on
his death day it is."
Draco shook his head. "Your family's insane."
"You're part of the family, too," Xavier reminded him.
"So I am," he replied. "I'd be lost without them," he admitted only to himself.
Draco held Ron's card in his hand, the scrawl lamentably familiar.
Happy Halloween— I didn't know if you'd be celebrating this year. Wish you were here. I really miss you, you know. Any
chance you're coming home? Should I come see you? Please write.
His wizarding passport lay at his elbow, shimmering under a chrysoprasic shadow as light streamed through his cocktail. All he
had to do was reconcile himself; just say yes. Yes to becoming a guardian — a parent — to a Weasley child. How fast
did he think Lucius could spin in his grave?
Draco decided he'd find out.
Title: First Gifts
"Good night, Mrs. Weasley."
"Good night, Mum."
"See you two at breakfast."
Draco followed Ron up interminable stairs to Ron's childhood bedroom. He tried to focus on Ron's shapely arse rather than relive
the strained conversations he'd engaged in for hours. Once the door closed, Ron pressed Draco against it, kissing him with
"Ron," Draco gasped. "You've a painfully orange room. Your family loathes me. Let's spend Christmas Day together.
"But I've never brought anyone home for Christmas before."
Draco blinked at his admission. "Never? Not even
Ron solemnly shook his head.
"Let's stay, then."
Eyes closed, Ron slides his hand up and down his erection before running the thumb over the tip. He's close to coming, imagining
more finely boned fingers around his hard shaft, a wicked tongue coming down to lick at the pearly liquid at the top. He strokes
harder, turning his head to the side, gasping as his wishful thoughts carry him inexorably to his orgasm. As the warm fluid
courses over his fingers, his breathing slows.
"Uncle Ron? I'm hungry!" Xavier calls outside the locked door.
With four words, the spell is broken. Draco's still in America. Ron, still alone.
He hadn't expected to spend a month in Weasley's presence. He certainly hadn't expected to miss the Weasel when the healing
processes finished. Weasley's skills were phenomenal; the persona immunata hex was well and truly lifted, and Draco's
magic was as powerful as it ever had been.
Now he nibbled on a hangnail, reading his letter of invitation to dinner to Weasley — to Ronald Bilius Weasley, dear
Merlin, Draco was insane — for the hundredth time. The truth was, the hex wasn't the only thing Ron had broken; he'd
smashed Draco's loneliness. Grudgingly, Draco hoped Ron would heal that wound, too.
Draco scowled, showing Ron two colums decidedly out of balance.
Under one was:
~plan Thursday's meal
~renew Longbottom's contract
~get portrait framed
~clean up your Cannons'
memorabilia in the attic
Under the other:
~pick up my robes from Twillfit and Tattings
Ron glared back. "What? So I haven't gotten to the others. Yet."
"Do you really know what these are?" Draco asked pointedly.
"To do lists."
Draco glared. "Things you swore you'd do. You promised me."
Ron looked apologetic. "At least there's one thing I can keep," he said, tapping his handfasting band. "My
"Thank Merlin," Draco sighed softly.
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