"The Inevitable" -- Harry Potter, Ron x Draco [10_quotes]

“Expecto patronum!”

Draco, rousing from a short doze, sat up in the ornate king-sized bed the Room of Requirement had provided for him. Across the room, his freckled, redhead paramour was pointedly waving his wand, his face set in determination. Draco watched, silent and curious, as Ron repeated the incantation.

“Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!”

A silvery light emitted from Ron’s wand, and he let out a whoop of victory. Draco’s eyebrow quirked and the corner of his mouth tugged upward as he watched the Patronus take the form of a Jack Russell Terrier. The small dog bounded around Ron’s feet and as the Gryffindor turned, watching it, he noticed the bemused Slytherin smirking at him.

“How cute,” Draco sneered and the Patronus vanished as Ron scowled at him. “I’m sure the other DA members will be very impressed by the manliness of your adorable puppy.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

Ron pocketed his wand in his trousers and returned to the bed, sitting on the edge and allowing Draco to wrap his arms around him from behind.

“So is that what Potter has you all doing these days?” Draco accentuated his query with a few almost-kisses to the back of Ron’s neck. “Conjuring up fuzzy little animals to scare away Dementors? That’ll come in real handy when you’re facing off against the Dark Lord, won’t it?”

“Harry’s teaching the best defensive magic we can learn,” Ron bristles, defensive. “Just because someone like you would have us learn the Cruciatus Curse or something—”

“Now, by ‘someone like me’, you mean someone brilliant and clever and extremely gifted in the art of dueling?”

“Hardly. Ow!” Ron glared back at Draco and rubbed at the spot on his shoulder where the blond had bitten. “Git.”

“Wanker.” Draco relinquished his loose hold on the other boy and fell back onto the bed with a huff. “Honestly. If you aren’t going to learn something useful, there really isn’t much of a point.”

“It is useful,” Ron insisted, twisting around to properly glower at his companion. “What are you trying to say, Malfoy? You think the DA is useless?”

“I find any sort of resistance useless. You honestly think the Dark Lord is going to let anything stop him this time? There’s nothing anyone can do.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Ron’s brow was furrowed, eyes blazing furiously and ears burning as red as his hair. He hated when he remembered what an evil, infuriating prat Draco really was. “You think we should all just surrender, just give in?”

“It’d be much simpler,” Draco replied calmly, crossing his arms behind his head, grey eyes focused challengingly on Ron’s own. “Why prolong the inevitable?”

“Bloody hell, Malfoy,” Ron practically whispered, voice hoarse and disbelieving. “Whose side are you on?”

Draco dropped his gaze, then, suddenly interested in the emerald sheets that covered him from the waist down.

“Right,” Ron muttered, standing from the bed and retrieving his shirt and robes. “That was a stupid question, wasn’t it?”

“Well, really,” Draco drawled, “what else could be expected from you, Weasley?”

But his retort fell on deaf ears. Soon, Ron had left the room and Draco was alone. He smiled humorlessly to himself; it always did end that way. He was almost used to it, this cycle of coming and going that they had. It would stop one day, though, he knew.

Then why—his earlier question echoed back at him—why prolong the inevitable?

Because, as useless as he knew it to be, it was human nature to hope.