"Do you know where we're going?" Ron asked, softly enough so that he didn't anger Draco. His voice was barely audible under the defining sound of the rain, Draco had to strain himself to hear him. "I'm not doing this again," He said lightly, face curving into a smile. Ron stayed silent, squelching his feet over the melted snow banks.

He felt that if he didn't find somewhere warm soon he would be losing a few appendages. Genuinely, it was freezing, and Ron couldn't stop his teeth from jittering. "W-we n-need to f-find somewhere s-soon," he said, standing as close to Draco as he could. He wasn't very warm, but it was something. However, Draco wasn't listening, his attentions seemed to be pulled elsewhere.

"Do you see that?" He asked, squinting his eyes and pointing his wand. "S-see W-what?" Ron asked, just then noticing the boxy brown figure in the distance. Draco must have just noticed how much Ron was struggling because he looked at him with a face that Ron didn't dare define.

He grabbed his hands from under his soggy coat instantly, noting that they were like that of icicles. "We need to go, come on," he said, his tone making Ron even more worried than he thought possible. Ron nodded, following him in a haze towards the figure.

___

Ron didn't know when or at what point they walked through a creaky old door, but they did, and he was confused. Draco was practically dragging him in, hoisting him directly in front of an iron-barred, wood filled fireplace. Ron couldn't see the room very well but he could make out an old, sheet-covered couch, dusty tables, a ransacked kitchen, and the smell of dust in the air. "Incendio!" Draco shouted, voice concerned.

The wood lit instantly, thick orange flames writhing about like serpents. Draco crouched in front of him, practically tearing off his waterlogged coat. Ron stopped shivering almost instantly, his toes and fingers becoming warmed. Draco threw his coat off, and then his gloves, and then his cloak, leaving him in nothing but a sweater and soggy pants. His hair was already starting to dry, becoming wavy. "What is this place?"

Ron asked, staring at the blank brown walls and the cobwebs trailing down corners. "I haven't a clue, looks like some old hideout," He said, scanning the area robotically. The sight of Draco in his grey, illustrious-looking sweater, without a robe, caused Ron's skin to grow hot. He looked at him then, eyes twisted with a million questions, "are you alright?" He said, breathing in heavily at the new temperature.

Ron wrapped his arms around himself, trying his hardest to warm up. His skin felt like ice, and his breath like Antarctician air. "Yeah, just cold," he said, staring into the bath of flames before him. "Thank you." He said, keeping his voice as emotionless as possible.

He couldn't help but mentally laugh at himself, who would've thought he would be thanking Draco Malfoy for something? Of all people to be stuck in the middle of a torrential rainstorm with, it had to be him. He couldn't possibly wrap his brain around it. Draco didn't respond, he just sat there, staring at the fire, his hand placed gently on his one knee. His wet clothes laid in a heap next to the couch, soaking the wooden floor.

___

They sat together by the fire in absolute silence for quite some time. Their shirts had become dry and their hair wavy, and Ron had actually gained back feeling into his limbs. The sky outside had grown pitch black, the moon was full, and the rain was still coming down, as hard as ever. Ron suspected sadly that the snow had been entirely washed away at that point, likely being replaced with a sheet of ice. The house creaked, they could hear rain on the roof, thunder in the trees, see it through the dusty window panes. All the while, Ron's mind had been running like crazy.

There were a million questions in his head, all ridiculous, none profound. Things that were so maddening that they almost escaped his lips a few times. But there was one, so loud, begging, screaming in his mind to be heard that he simply couldn't overlook it. And, without truly thinking about what he was doing, he said it quickly. "Why do you hate me?"

He asked, Draco turned to him instantly, staring at his face with bewilderment. "What?" His voice was disturbed, almost angry. "Why have you hated me? All these years, I just want to know why."

Draco opened his mouth a few times, then closed it, not knowing what to say. He laid his head back, resting it on the sheet-covered couch behind him and let out a sigh. "I . . . I don't hate you Ron." He breathed heavily, at a loss for words. "I just . . . I guess all this time I was envious of you."

Ron was just as astonished as him at that point. "Jealous!? Of me? What could you have to be jealous of?"

" I don't know Ron, you have friends, REAL friends.

Not bloody fanatical people you muck about with out of necessity. And, you have a family, who loves you, who cares. I don't have any of that." He said, staring into the fire, his eyes glassy and his hair falling in front of his face. For a few seconds, Ron didn't know what to say. He didn't think he would ever have words again, not coherent ones anyway.

But, suddenly, the shot out of him, "I was jealous of you," he said. Draco looked up, ashen eyes wide. "You what?"

"I was jealous of you too. You have everything that I don't, money, power, a family that actually gains respect from people.

I always thought you were a git for it, a self-entitled ass." Draco laughed, a light chuckle that sent a shiver through Ron's heart. "What do you think now?" He asked. Ron's heart skipped a beat, "Now?

I have no idea. I don't think ever will."

"Well," was it just Ron or did he scootch closer? "The feelings are rather mutual it seems." They were quiet for a few seconds, fire crackling, wind whistling outside. "I'm sorry.

For everything. And, I know that I can't repay for the things I've done and said. But I am, really, truly, sorry." He said, Ron's chest felt as if it was in knots. "I'm sorry too, for thinking you were a git. Although, it still is true sometimes," Ron smiled, Draco laughed.

He punched his shoulder, staring at him with a face that Ron could only describe as hunger. Their faces were close, too close. Ron could feel his breath on his face, minty and fresh, he could see the way his eyes were staring at his purple lips. His hair was almost touching forehead, his cheeks hot, his heart writhing unruly in his chest. But, Ron broke it off instantly with an ill-timed yawn.

Draco moved his away, turning back towards the fire, "Do you want to go to sleep? It is rather late." He asked, standing to his feet. He grabbed the sheet off of the couch with one swift pull, revealing old, brown polyester fabric. It was wide enough to be a twin bed and long enough to fit a party of five.

"That would be nice, continue the journey in the morning," Draco nodded, fluffing the two knit pillows while wiping the dust off of the cushions. "There, you take the couch, I'll sleep on the floor." he said, preparing a spot by the fire, his pillow being his mound of wet clothes. Ron sat down, a cloud of dust flying into the air. He wasn't sure how to put his thoughts into words. " You don't . . . have to," he said, his voice nearly inaudible.

Draco turned to him, his face even more astonished than before. "What?" he asked,

"I mean, it's hardly fair. I could sleep on the flo-"

"Like hell you are, you almost passed out earlier,"

"Well, then . . . it's cold, on the couch." He said, Merlin, what am I saying?

He thought to himself, he felt sure that his mouth had gained a mind of its own. Draco looked him up and down, seemingly understanding what he was saying. He laid down first, body shoved against the backing, engulfed in cushions. Ron laid in front of him, they were pushed together, melded almost. They shifted a few times, it was awkward, and Ron thought seriously about getting up and storming back into the rain.

"You don't have to do-"

"No," Draco said, cutting off Ron's urgency, "I want to." Ron's heart dropped, and at that point he was incapable of any and all rational thought. "Just . . . come here," Draco said, wrapping his arm around him, pulling him close. His head was nearly resting on top of his own, both on the same pillow. "Are you sure you're-"

"Shhh," he said, his hand smoothing over his sweater-covered arm, "go to sleep."

His voice was husky in his ear, deep, warm. Ron stopped staring at the fire and shut his eyes, listening to the sound of Draco's breathing. "Draco?" He asked, he had never been so comfortable yet uncomfortable at the same time. " Go to sleep Ron, for me, sleep."

He said, and, with that, Ron's mind began to drift, the consciousness leaving him.