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It had started off to be a perfectly normal year for Ronald Weasley. Harry wasn't trying to accidentally get himself killed, Hermione was being her usual self and nothing unusual was going on with Harry either.
Until something unusual started happening with Harry, that is.
•••••
His day started off as usual.
He was sleeping peacefully, dreaming about everything and nothing all at once. He especially loved when his dreams consisted of a buffet, quidditch and his friends, more so Hermione than Harry. Not that he didn't like Harry, he did. He was his best mate after all. But sometimes he preferred it when Hermione appeared. He liked thinking of small scenarios.
Him and Hermione dancing gracefully during a ball. Of course he was wearing dress robes that actually looked somewhat pleasant in these. And Hermione looked as beautiful as she always did.
Him and Hermione studying in the library, alone, without Harry. Contrary to popular belief, he actually liked being in the library, not for the books of course. He just liked to watch Hermione while she studied. It was fun to watch all the emotions that passed by her face when she studied. She was always so focused.
Some people might say that he liked Hermione for her looks, but that was only partly true. He liked her because she was smart, funny and kind. While her talk of S.P.E.W. got a little out of hand at times, he actually liked seeing her passionate about something other than studying. He also liked that she was strong and could beat more than half the people in her year, and probably older, in duels.
Hermione was thoughtful too. She always put his and Harry's feelings first to most things, the only exception being studies and her own feelings, but even then she rarely thought about it.
It was during these thoughts, was he woken up by Seamus throwing a football at him. Sometimes he really hated Seamus. Especially when he wakes him up when he's having good dreams.
It was only after he used the bathroom and changed into his school uniform did he realise that he'd forgot to wake Harry up.
He quickly rushed over to Harry's bed, yanked open the hangings and woke him up by yelling into his ear. Harry sat upright in bed with a start, accidentally hitting Ron in the nose with his head by doing so. Ron, while holding his nose, thought that this was karma for waking him up like that.
“You didn't have to bloody yell,” Harry groaned, rubbing the part of his head that he hit Ron in the nose with, with his hand.
“You wouldn't wake up, and we were going to get late,” the redhead lied. He hadn't tried anything else beforehand but Harry didn't need to know that.
“Shit! Why didn't you wake me up earlier!” Harry was now searching through his trunk for his school robes, frantically throwing things out and putting things back in. He went to look under his bed for his gryffindor tie before Ron noticed the multiple bruises on his neck.
What were those bruises doing on Harry's neck? It hadn't been there before they went to bed, surely, so where had they come from? Could he have somehow hurt himself in his sleep? But Harry never moves around in his sleep. Not even if he, miraculously, slept like the dead.
And the bruises were very dark too. Especially when Harry was as pale as he was (he wasn't as pale as himself or Malfoy though, but he was close to it). Some parts looked a bit purple while other parts looked like a deep red. It looked like it hurt. But how did such bad bruises even appear on Harry's neck in the first place? Had he gone somewhere without telling him again?
“Where did you get those bruises from?” Ron blurted out once Harry had gotten out of the bathroom.
“What bruises?” Harry asked confused.
“Those bruises on your neck. They're covering, like, half of your neck,” Ron said and watched as Harry tentatively touched his neck.
For a moment, he seemed to have been thinking, but then his face turned scarlet.
“Oh- oh! it's- no- it's not- it's nothing!” he yelped out. He seemed to be panicking. “I must've hit my neck on something yesterday without noticing!” he rushed out and quickly adjusted his collar so that the bruises weren't as visible unless you looked for it.
Ron thought he seemed oddly flustered for just having hit his neck. He let it pass though. Harry did get hurt all the time for no reason. It wasn't totally unusual for him to come back with a new cut or bruise on parts of his body.
“Ok then. Let's go down, I think ‘mione might be waiting for us,” he suggested, turning and walking to the door, not at all noticing the relieved look that appeared on Harry's face.
•••••
It was now two weeks after the bruise incident and neither of them had said anything. Ron hadn't even accidentally mentioned it to Hermione either, which was a bit surprising considering the fact that they told each other everything now that they were dating.
Ron was still a bit baffled that he and Hermione were dating.
He was Ron Weasley. He came from a poor wizarding family, was overlooked by most people because of how amazing his siblings were and because he was best friends with the chosen one. He was mostly forgotten or unnecessary to everyone else. Yet he was dating the Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, someone who proved almost every pureblood wizarding family wrong, and one of his closest friend’s.
Hermione was great, amazing even. But compared to his friends, he would be a rock. Harry would be a ferocious dragon while Hermione would be a beautiful pheonix. He would just be a boring, old rock, that couldn't do anything but stay still and get thrown.
Sometimes he felt as though he didn't deserve to date Hermione. He would never be good enough for her because he was an unnecessary rock. He thought that no one would ever be good enough for Hermione, really.
Ron's thoughts were cut off when he ran into a wall, too lost in his thoughts to realise where he was going.
“Bloody hell! I swear that wall wasn't there before!” he yelled out to no one, holding his very red nose, that was hit the hardest when he ran into the wall.
He heard someone behind him laugh.
The laugh sounded very familiar. It sounded a bit like Harry's. That person had snorted before he laughed just like how Harry always did.
Now that he thought about it... it was Harry!
He turned around, holding his nose, and was met with Harry leaning on the wall, clutching his stomach, laughing at his friend til his sides hurt.
When he had realised Ron had seen him, he stood up straighter and clapped a hand over his mouth to stop any stray laughs.
“You alright?” he asked, a hint of amusement lingering heavily in his tone. Ron couldn't help but scowl at his so called best friend. Harry let out a small snort at that.
“Bloody fine, you git,” he said, only half joking.
“I was just asking, you prat.”
“Bloody idiot.”
“You're the idiot. You were the one who ran into a wall.” Harry retorted.
“I was thinking!” Ron retaliated.
“’bout ‘mione, I bet.” Harry smirked at him cheekily.
“Where did you come from?” He quickly changed the topic.
At the question, Harry seemed to freeze up. His face was burning a bright red, too. Ron didn't know why, it had just been a simple question.
“Kitchen!” he blurted out all too quickly.
“The kitchen?”
“Yeah... midnight snack...” he said, a little confused himself.
“We just finished dinner?” the redhead said sceptically.
Harry's body seemed to go rigid. He had been caught. He needed to think of an excuse quickly. One that will satisfy Ron.
“I mean... I went to go get snacks... so that we could eat at midnight?” Harry said, but it seemed more like a question.
“Where are the snacks then?”
“I... forgot... them?”
“Okay then,” Ron was still very sceptical. His best mate was hiding something from him, he just didn't know what.
“Then why are you wearing a Slytherin tie?” he continued, eyebrow raised, silently eyeing the green and silver striped tie hanging from Harry's neck.
“Slytherin tie...?” Harry mumbled to himself, slowly touching his tie before looking at it. He was, indeed, wearing a Slytherin tie. His eyes widened before they snapped up to meet Ron, who was looking at him questioningly. He shifted from looking at the tie around his neck and Ron, thinking of an excuse he could make up.
Harry had seemed to think of a believable excuse, as he had relaxed a little.
“Seamus hexed my tie green to mess with me,” Harry said nonchalantly. “I got to go. I'll be back soon. I promise.” With that, he dashed off into the direction Ron assumes he came from.
Ron would have believed Harry's horrible idea of an excuse, had it not been for the fact that he had seen Seamus and Dean run off together an hour ago.
He knew his best friend was lying to him.
For one, Harry wasn't coming from the stairs that reached the kitchens. In fact, he was nowhere near them. He was coming from the ones that went up to the astronomy tower. Two, he hadn't been seen since Lunch time, at all. And three, Harry Potter was a bloody bad liar.
•••••
It had been a week since Ron saw the Slytherin tie around Harry's neck, and since then, he has been trying to figure out what has been going on with Harry.
He was sitting on his bed in the Gryffindor dorms, with a parchment, quill and ink bottle out, thinking of what was happening with Harry.
From his observation, he had started to notice a pattern.
Harry would leave the Gryffindor dorms when everyone had fallen asleep and wouldn't return until early that morning. He would go missing every Saturday and Sunday right after lunch time and would only be seen later that night or early morning the next day.
He also started noticing that Harry was a lot more happier after he came back from wherever he goes. Which is a bit odd, now that he thought about it. He also seemed to get restless and a bit moody whenever he gets held back a while from going wherever it is that he was headed.
Ron still couldn't quite figure what was going on with his best friend.
He groaned and fell back onto his pillow, almost knocking down the ink bottle. He already had small splotches of spilt ink on his bedsheets, he didn't need anymore.
He knew he should probably bring Hermione into this, it would probably go much faster than what he had worked out so far. She would have probably even figured it out in a day, he thought fondly.
Without noticing, a small smile stretched across his face.
He should bring her into this, but he won't. It felt like something that should be kept secret from everyone else. Then again he shouldn't even be doing this, he felt guilty trying to figure out what was going on with Harry. It was obvious he wanted to keep it a secret.
Should he do this? He asked himself.
You shouldn't. You're going against your friends wishes. The little voice in his head said. It sounded a bit like Luna.
But he never really said not to do it, and Harry didn't.
Doesn't matter. You should trust your friend, the voice continued. Ron will admit that it did have a point.
He doesn't trust me! He isn't telling me what's wrong!
He doesn't need to! Maybe he's not ready to tell you! The voice yelled at him. The voice sounded a bit scary now. Demanding even.
But the voice was right. Harry wasn't obligated to tell him every little thing that happens in his life. It was Harry's life. He would tell Ron when he needed to.
He sighed. You're right. He doesn't need to tell me.
I always am. The voice sounded a bit like Malfoy now. Ugh. Why does it sound like Malfoy! It was his mind!
I should stop this.
Are you going to? The voice asked curiously.
I am. He finalised. And he was going to.
Good.
After talking to himself, he sat up in his bed and stared at the parchment that had all of his observations about Harry written down.
He knew he had to get rid of it. It was going to be the only way he would be able to move on from trying to figure out what was going on in Harry's life. He needed to do it. He didn't want to go against his best mate. But the more curious part of him wanted to find out what was going on in his best mates life. He knew it was wrong of him, but he just couldn't help it.
Curse the voice in his head for making him feel bad for doing this. Honestly, to hell with it. Why was it that such a small voice inside his head, that sounded like different people every time it spoke, hold so much power over him. It was bloody annoying.
Ron groaned in frustration before crumpling up the parchment and throwing it across the room. Coincidentally, it had landed on Harry's bed.
Ron blinked, mentally swore and glared at the parchment. Why couldn't it have just landed somewhere else and not on the bed of the person the parchment was written about. Now he was going to have to move it if he didn't want Harry to find it.
He groaned again and walked sluggishly over to Harry's bed, all the while cursing the bloody stupid parchment in his mind. It was its fault he had to stand up and walk over to get it. Especially when he was so comfortable in his bed.
He picked up the parchment that was sitting ever so innocently – like it hadn't just made him stand from his comfortable bed – on Harry's bed and glared at it.
As he was glaring at the small piece of crumpled up parchment wishing it death, he noticed something on Harry's bed. Something that was out of place on Harry's messy, red and gold bed.
It was a black cloak. Of course, that wouldn't have been particularly out of place if it had not been for the fact that Ron knew his best mate very well, and he knew that Harry didn't own anything that was this nice.
The black cloak was clean and didn't have a single crinkle on it (the work of a spell, he assumed). The fastenings were silver with small engravings and had emeralds embedded in them. It was also perfectly polished, not a speck of dust in sight. When he touched the cloak, the cloth was very soft and not like the ones Harry had. Overall, it just looked perfect and expensive.
That was odd. Harry very rarely bought expensive things for himself, so it couldn't be his. Especially when it was this perfect. Harry always kept things a bit messily. His clothes always had crinkles on them and nothing on it was ever polished.
All Ron could do was stare at the cloak in his hands and wonder whether it was Harry's or someone else's.
Of course all of that staring led to him noticing something that he hadn't noticed before.
It was the engravings on the silver fastenings. When he looked closely, it looked like the Malfoy family Crest. All pureblood families had one, even the Weasley's, but they didn't really use it, mum and dad found it old fashioned.
Why did Harry have something that belonged to the Malfoys?
He decided he would think about it another time. He slowly unfolded the crumpled parchment and wrote down a few things on it with his quill. To hell with the little voice in his head, Harry was confusing him!
He decided that he could dwell on why the hell Harry had something that belonged to the Malfoys another time.
Right now, he really, really needed a nap.
•••••
“Harry!” he yelled out in the halls as he ran.
He was trying to find Harry.
Why?
That would be because both he and Harry were very late to their study session with Hermione in the library. The git was missing. Again.
Hermione was going to kill them, him more so than Harry.
And it was all the gits fault, because he'd spent the last 10 minutes, and counting, trying to find Harry after the git left him while he was trying to explain to Seamus that the noises coming from his bed last night were from sleep talking and not from... other things.
“Harry!”
He probably looked like a lunatic to the other people in the halls, but then again, they were probably used to it since this has been a recurring theme for the past couple of months.
His legs were getting tired now, and so was his voice.
He ran into a person, making them fall and shouted out an apology over his shoulder before running on. He almost regretted not helping them up, but right now the only things on his mind were finding Harry and how mad Hermione was going to be because they were late again.
While he was running, he had this great idea to just ditch Harry and go to the library on his own, but then he would have been a bad friend and he didn't want to be one again. And he reckoned that Hermione wouldn't really like that.
But that thought has seemed to become more and more appealing every time he turned a corner and Harry was nowhere to be seen.
He just wished that Harry would disappear at a more convenient time, and not at a time when Hermione was waiting so that they could study together and when his life was on the line. Harry just seemed to disappear all the time now.
A few weeks ago, it wasn't as noticeable. He disappeared at night when they were all asleep and came back before they woke. But as the weeks went on, it started becoming more and more obvious. They would be walking together, with Hermione too, in the hallways and he would fall behind and then disappear completely. Sometimes, he even went missing right after they got out of their classes. One time, they had been talking to him and when they looked away for just a second, he was nowhere to be seen.
It was getting bloody annoying trying to find him nowadays.
His legs were burning, he could hear his heart beating in his ears and he was getting light headed.
He stopped running. Leaning heavily against the wall for support – his legs were trembling – he panted hard, gasping for air. His lungs were burning and his chest was hurting from how much he had ran. His mind was getting fuzzy too now.
He slid down the wall, his tired body going limp as he slumped against the wall.
He was so tired... but he needed to find Harry, or Hermione was going to have their heads.
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before letting it all out. He repeated this for a few minutes, slowly inhaling and exhaling, before his heart rate was back to normal and his breathing was steady.
When he finally opened his eyes and looked around, he found a very strange sight a few feet away from him.
Two boys, that looked to be around his age, were... talking? Of course that wouldn't have looked odd if it weren't for the fact that one of them, the shorter one with black hair, was pressed against the wall looking visibly flushed, while the other one, the taller blonde, had his arms against the wall near the other's head, looming over him with a smirk and a light flush.
Ron didn't know if the blonde was threatening the other or if he was flirting, either way it was an interesting sight.
Then again they were probably flirting. After all, he didn't think that enemies had ever gotten that close, or in that specific position, when they were fighting. At least, Harry and Malfoy never did.
Harry and Malfoy always picked fights with each other in the hallway but they never got that close. Except fist fights. Those always got a bit out of hand.
But now that he thought about it, Harry and Malfoy did get a bit too close to each other when they were yelling at each other nowadays. Always up in each others faces.
Light laughter broke his thoughts.
He turned his head back to the couple. It seemed they still hadn't noticed him, too lost in their own small world. They were smiling now and the shorter one had his hands lightly pressing against the taller one’s chest.
Now that he really paid attention, they looked a bit like Harry and Malfoy. They were even wearing the same school robes as them – Slytherin and Gryffindor ones. But that would be weird. Harry and Malfoy hated each other. They would never get that close to each other. They hate each other.
But there wasn't another person that looked like either of them.
Malfoy was the only blonde with skin that pale in Slytherin in their year. And Harry was the only Gryffindor boy that was that short and had hair that dark and messy.
With even closer inspection, (read: a lot of squinting) he found out that they were, indeed, Harry and Malfoy.
But that didn't make sense!
They hate each other!
His head was hurting again. That seemed to be a regular occurrence nowadays too.
He watched as Malfoy caressed his hand against Harry's cheek looking a bit devilish and flirtatious. His best mate looked up at the blond and gave an almost fond look. He was smiling and his eyes seem to flutter close.
That was all Ron saw before he fled from the scene.
Screw being a good friend.
He decided that he had quite enough of Harry being mysterious and that he really needed a distraction. What better way to distract himself than to go study with Hermione. Her nagging and explaining would probably keep his mind occupied.
Maybe he could even steal a kiss or two...
He'll just tell her that he was trying to find Harry and that he couldn't find him if she asks him where he was.
Harry can deal with her later.
•••••
The wind was roaring in his ears as Ron flew around the Quidditch goals, blocking out almost all the quaffles Slytherin was trying to shoot into them.
It was the final Quidditch match of the year and they were playing Slytherin. Harry had seemed very happy at that. Ron thought it was because he found Malfoy to be the only challenging seeker he ever got to play against.
Ron wouldn't admit it, but he acknowledged Malfoy as the third most talented seeker he has ever met. Harry being second and Krum being first. Harry may be his best friend but when it came to seeking the snitch, but Ron would always have Krum as first place, no matter how talented Harry was.
Ron quickly dove down and kicked a quaffle before it entered the third goal. He heard the crowd cheer for him and preened a little in the spotlight. He was proud of himself, he could bathe in the cheers if he so wished to.
He wasn't paying attention to the crowd that much today, he was trying his best to ignore them so that he could focus on keeping the quaffles out of the goals.
He hurriedly dodged a bludger heading his way, giving a glare to the Slytherin beater, Gregory Goyle. The beater all but glared back at him.
“Gryffindor leads with 80 points with Slytherin at 50. Seems that the Nargles are really getting to them, they'll go away when you aren't so serious,” commentator Luna Lovegood says in her usual dreamy voice.
Ron barked out a laugh at Luna's commentary. She was always talking about odd things and it made him laugh.
“Seamus Finnigan seems to have exploded a feather back in the Gryffindor stands. Are you okay over there?” Luna says again. Luna's commentating always included odd little things like that.
In the distance he heard Seamus yell back a, “we're fine Luna!” before he went back to trying to clean the mess with Dean.
He saw Hermione smiling and waving at him and he swore he almost fainted.
He quickly turned back to the game and tried to ignore Luna's odd comments about a blue bird in the Ravenclaw side singing the new version of “Weasley is our King”. He turned back just in time it seemed, as another bludger was headed for his head, this one batted by Crabbe.
What had he done to piss off Malfoy's bodyguards?
He was sure he hadn't pissed Malfoy off, the git was flying above his head chasing Harry.
That brought him back to a topic that he had been avoiding since he saw them in that corridor that one afternoon; Harry and Malfoy.
He accidentally let in a quaffle sent by Slytherin and heard their side cheer in victory. He groaned. This is exactly why he didn't think of Harry and Malfoy. They were too distracting for him.
“Nice arse, Potter!” he heard Malfoy yell cheekily at Harry who was searching for the snitch.
“Shove off, Malfoy!” Harry yelled back.
“Feisty are we now? How about we use that in the bedroom.”
“Later, Draco!”
“We shall see!” Malfoy chuckled before he followed Harry in search of the snitch.
Ron seemed to have been the only one to hear that exchange. No one else gave away even a hint that they heard... whatever that was.
He tried really hard to ignore what was said and focus on the game. He really, really did. But it couldn't be helped, his mind wasn't agreeing with him right now. It never did anyways.
He would have been stupid to not understand what was implied by Malfoy's last sentence. He knew it was very suggestive, Malfoy knew so too. He knew he was asking Harry for a shag... or whatever. And the most unbelievable part was that Harry had agreed! He knew that Harry knew exactly what Malfoy was implying. Harry wasn't innocent or that oblivious.
Why would Harry agree to something like that? With Malfoy of all people?
He didn't care that Harry was into blokes, he'd known it since third year, despite Harry not telling him or Hermione yet.
Hell, George was bisexual! Seamus and Dean were dating! He even saw Neville and Zabini shagging on the couch – not a pleasant sight mind you, he had screamed and ran away instantly – of course he didn't care that Harry liked blokes. So what if he was the only straight guy in his dorm, he could care less.
But Harry and Malfoy were an odd concept.
They always fought. It didn't matter if it included a wand or not, they always have. It had been that way from the start. They disagreed about almost everything, Quidditch being the only thing they had in common as far as Ron knew.
But nowadays, their fighting – if you could even call it that – didn’t last long. They rarely ever had fist fights or duels. Just meaningless words in the hallways and standing so close Harry had to look up to glare at Malfoy in the eye.
His mind was brought back to the time he had found all those bruises on Harry's neck, that his best mate dismissed were just some random bruises he got from- well, who knows where! Harry hadn't told him!
The very obvious Slytherin tie he was wearing that night when they stumbled into each other in the corridor. The tie he had told him was just a prank from Seamus. That was the night he knew Harry was lying to him.
Then the silky soft black cloak that had no crease on it with the Malfoy Crest engraved on the fastenings that, he knew didn't belong to Harry, he had found on Harry's bed.
And then a few days later, Harry pushed against a wall by Malfoy, both thoroughly enjoying it, as they both laughed and talked with each other. The small intimate touches too.
As he blocked another quaffle and whizzed past another bludger, he started to realise that the bruises on Harry's neck weren't bruises at all. They were hickeys. Dark red and purple hickeys made by Malfoy. The tie he was wearing that night obviously belonged to Malfoy too, seeing as he was the only Slytherin Harry associated with. The cloak with the Malfoy crest definitely belonged to Malfoy.
With a startled laugh, Ron realised that Harry had been sneaking of to see Malfoy every night and all the other times he had went missing.
“Oi, Potter!” this time, Malfoys voice seemed to make him look up as well.
“What, Malfoy!” Harry said with a frustrated sigh as he lost sight of the snitch again and turned to glare at the blonde.
“Be ready for tonight.” Malfoy winked and flew off.
Harry gave an exasperated sigh a turned to watch Malfoy flying.
“Why do I love you,” he heard Harry's mutter as he followed Malfoy to find the snitch.
Ron was going crazy. Absolutely bonkers.
Of course! The bloody wankers were dating!
They just had to be!
And the last thing on Ronald Weasley's mind before he lost consciousness after a bludger finally got him in the face was, Harry and Malfoy were dating.
•••••
Ow
Was his first thought as he started to regain consciousness.
Where was he?
What happened?
Why does my head hurt?
Why does my hand feel heavy?
These questions crossed his mind as quick as lightning strike, making his head ache even worse. He needed to stop thinking.
He tried to backtrack to what had happened before.
He had been playing Quidditch against Slytherin.
Luna said something about an exploding feather and a blue bird that sings.
Malfoy asked Harry for a shag.
Harry said he loved Malfoy.
Hermione smiled at him.
Hermione waved at him.
He got hit by a bludger.
At least that explained the headache.
Wait a minute...
Had he said Malfoy asked Harry for a shag?
He did.
It was all coming back to him now. Harry and Malfoy were flirting, which led to him being distracted while playing Quidditch, which then led to him getting hit on the head by an unsuspecting bludger. It was all Harry and Malfoy's fault that he was... where was he?
He opened his eyes and heard someone gasp besides him and a faint squeeze in his right hand. All he saw was the white ceiling of the Hospital Wing.
“Ron! You're awake!” someone, Hermione he assumed, said too loudly making him clutch his head with his free hand and groan. “Sorry,” she whispered this time.
Someone to his left, Harry probably, helped him sit up in his hospital bed.
“Are you okay?” he heard Harry ask as soon as he was sitting upright and got to see everyone properly. Hermione was wearing her normal clothes; a shirt and jeans with her curly hair loose around her pretty face.
Harry looked as Harry always did. Messy black hair, incredibly green eyes. But this time he was wearing a black hoodie that was baggy and obviously didn't belong to him. He even had a few several hickeys littering his neck. Ron's surprised he hadn't seen them before.
And Ron felt as incredulous as his head ached. And that was a lot.
So he did the only thing he could do; blurted out everything that was occupying his thoughts.
“No I'm not bloody ok!” he fumed. “I got hit in the head with a bludger, Harry's been lying to me for the past few months, Hermione's being as wonderful as she always is, Malfoy wants to shag Harry and I just found out that they had been dating for a few months!” he ranted, letting loose everything that was bothering him and he felt much better.
To his left he heard someone choking, and when he turned, it was Malfoy, sitting on a similar hospital bed right next to his.
“I'm sorry, what?” he croaked out once he stopped choking.
Next to him, his two friends looked a bit startled, although Harry had turned a bit red.
“You knew!” Harry squeaked out in high pitched voice.
“Of course I bloody knew! Did you think I would think that the hickeys on your neck that day were bruises? Or the Slytherin tie you were wearing a few weeks ago? Or that stupidly clean and soft black cloak-”
“You saw the cloak?”
“-with the Malfoy family crest was yours? Or how I saw you pinned against a wall with Malfoy trying to very obviously flirt with you and proposition you the day you were supposed to meet Hermione in the library?” he continued as if Harry didn't just cut him off.
“You saw that?” Harry asked, embarrassed. He was rubbing the back of his hickey-covered neck.
“Not to mention you're wearing his clothes and you have several hickeys on your neck,” Ron pointed out. He saw Hermione giggle next to him and sent a smile her way.
“I have what on my neck!” Harry yelped out touching his neck and turning around to face Malfoy to give him a glare.
“Hickeys. Lots of them.” The git responded with a smug smirk at Harry's glare.
“Why didn't you yell me!” he reprimanded his not-so-secret boyfriend.
“You can't blame me entirely. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me. And you know how much I love to mark what's mine.” The git replied with nonchalance, smiling slightly when his boyfriend turned a darker shade of red.
Harry just sighed and sat down on his boyfriend's hospital bed, still turned towards Ron and Hermione. It seemed that his boyfriend had other plans however, because in the next second Harry was sitting in between Malfoy's legs. Harry leant back into his chest without complaint as the blonde’s arm circled around his waist and the grey eyed man buried his face in his hair.
“So... you know.” Harry said, avoiding their eyes.
“Yes.” Both he and Hermione replied unanimously.
“Are you okay with it?” Harry asked anxiously, still afraid that they wouldn't accept him.
“If we were okay with Seamus and Dean, and Blaise and Neville, why wouldn't we be okay with you?” Ron said softly.
“Okay,” Harry whispered, sagging a bit more against his boyfriend who had perked up with newfound interest.
“Did you say Blaise and Neville?” he asked, piqued with interest.
“I found them shagging on the couch in our common room at night,” he replied, slightly disgusted at the thought.
“What?!” both Harry and Hermione shrieked.
They had sat on that couch! Multiple times!
“That is interesting...” Draco trailed off, thinking of ways he could use this to his advantage.
Harry and Hermione were saying something about the couch thing a bit too loudly and it was giving him a head ache. Malfoy seemed to be having a head ache too.
Unlike him, Malfoy knew how to make his partner quiet down without words. He had just simply placed a soft kiss on Harry's neck. Harry had gasped and gone quiet in an instance. He kissed his neck again and whispered something in Harry's ears which made him nod his head. It was so intimate that Ron felt like he was intruding on something.
Hermione had quietened down to watch the exchange and Ron was tremendously glad that Malfoy was here now. Not that he would admit it.
What was Malfoy doing in the hospital wing anyway?
“Say Malfoy, what are you doing here? In the hospital wing?” he asked hesitantly.
Malfoy blinked. “Bludger to the head,” he muttered pressing a kiss to Harry's hair.
“Oh.”
“Say Weasel, how did you find out Potter and I were dating? I know it wasn't just because of the things you said you noticed.” He fixed Ron with a piercing gaze that dared him to lie to his face.
“I may have heard your conversation with Harry implying sex while we were playing Quidditch today,” he muttered softly. He could feel the stare Hermione was giving him.
“I was hoping it was loud enough for no one else to hear...” Malfoy mumbled, turning a faint pink.
Everyone was quiet for a moment.
“Use a silencing charm please.”
“Ronald!”
“Ron!”
“Of course we would use one, Weasel.”
"Draco!"