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The snickering began after Draco passed. The wizards in gold trimmed robes leaning towards each other conspiratorially, smirks hidden behind campaign flutes. The words Malfoy and whore following him as stalked past, refusing to cower away, willing the heat spreading up his neck to stop before it reached his cheeks. Three months of this, since, what he now only referred to as the incident. He could take the gossip and snide comments behind his back, the laughter at his expense and wildly inaccurate stories, but he would not let them see the way it affected him. His perfect Malfoy veneer in place, wavering, but not yet cracking under the fury and humiliation he felt.
That was him once. His hand clenched around his own flute at the sheer injustice of it all.
It was all Selwyn’s fault. For blathering to any and every Nobel witch or wizard he could get his grubby hands on, telling tales of the disgraced Malfoy heir throwing himself at war hero Ron Weasley. Draco huffed as he snatched a full campaign flute off one of the floating trays. Selwyn had conveniently left out the part where Weasley had confirmed they were in fact in a relationship. Once the rumours had started, following Draco around at every party and dinner he was invited to, he hadn’t expected Weasley to come out with a grand proclamation of love to dispel the tales. But what he hadn’t expected was Weasley to add to the rumours. Some Gryffindor he was. Draco was beginning to expect his converted invites kept arriving, so as to be a sceptical, the evening’s entertainment.
He still however, attended. If he was to restore his family’s name then he needed to put up with the hypocritical societal elite. Loath as he was to do so.
Draco had been at this stuffy soiree for forty-five minutes and had not spoken to a single partygoer. More accurately, no one had spoken to him. They avoided him, stared at him, laughed at him behind his back, but not one single person had actually made eye contact or uttered a word.
Draco took a gulp of his campaign, downing half of its contents. He walked out towards one of the balconies and thought bitterly that he should have just slept with Selwyn and none of this mess would be happening.
The balcony was mercifully empty and Draco allowed himself to relax a fraction, resting his forearms on the wide stone, his crystal flute dangling between his fingers precariously over the edge.
It was too early to go home, but Draco was ever so tired of the icy exterior he needed to exude while being in attendance. His patience thinned with each contemptuous look.
“Oh, hello there.” a bright voice broke the silence behind Draco.
Back stiffening, Draco turned around, placing a well-practiced ‘polite company’ smile on his face, “Hello”.
The gentleman was in muggle attire, and was most notably, extremely attractive. Draco was surprised his smile didn’t fade as he took in Draco’s sharp angular features.
“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” he moved closer and held out a hand, “I’m James Munslow”.
Draco didn’t let his shock show, seamlessly stepping forward and shaking his hand in a tight grip, noting the calloused fingers, “Draco Malfoy.” If the name rang a bell, Munslow didn’t show it.
Munslow smiled and gestured to the party behind him, “and how are you enjoying the evening?”
“Well, I’m loitering on a dark balcony by myself,” Draco quipped, “So about that well.”
The stranger laughed. It was a good-natured laugh, Draco couldn’t detect any pity in it whatsoever.
He moved closer to Draco and they settled against the balcony, looking out over the grounds and blinking lights of the city in the distance.
“So, tell me what you do Draco, for work I mean,” he took a small sip from his own glass and gave Draco an encouraging tilt of his head.
Draco, loath to tell the first person to speak to him tonight, a handsome man nonetheless, that he did absolutely nothing all day long, did what any good Slytherin would: he lied, “I dabble in potion making, I have an apprenticeship lined up with a very skilled potions master actually.” Draco taking a large sip of his own wine, asked “and what about yourself?”
“I’m an auror, freshly minted,” a proud smile settled across his face, “a group of us just arrived not long ago after a shift actually,” Munslow began to tell Draco a bit of what he did day to day, oblivious to Draco’s internal panic beginning to spiral inside.
Just his luck. He seemed nice enough and hadn’t balked at Draco’s last name. Maybe he could get through this conversation, maybe auror Munslow would invite him home for a night cap. One thing that kept sweeping through his mind, was since when did being attracted to aurors suddenly become a thing.
Slowly Draco relaxed and began engaging in the conversation that Munslow had been singlehandedly carrying. Soon Draco was at ease, laughing at the auror’s jokes and toasting to a good night.
Munslow had migrated closer, their shoulders bumping together as they spoke about their schooling and these dastardly parties they attended. Then Draco felt a confident had at his waist. He looked up into Munslow’s face, that was suddenly very close. He smiled, and after a second of hesitation, Draco returned the smile. Since the incident with a certain red headed auror, Draco had not copped off with anyone except his own hand. Three very long months.
Munslow bent down, his lips hovering over Draco’s neck. He placed a soft kiss there, drawing a sigh from Draco, who was only now realizing just how touch starved he was.
Munslow whispered in his ear and the spell was broken. Tension seized Draco’s shoulders as he pulled his face back, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “What did you say?”
Munslow leaned forward, “I said, so is it true?” a smirk settled on his features, as if Draco was in on some big joke.
“Is what true?” Draco straightened and took a step back, stopped by Munslow’s tight grip on his waist.
“Come on,” Munslow winked at him, “I work in the same department as Ron, you know how locker room talk goes,” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Draco’s expression hardened, ice threatening to crack, “No, I can’t say that I do, and what exactly did Weasley say?”
“You know,” laughed Munslow, “just that you like to shag in public places. When I saw you out here, I figured you were waiting for someone to take you up on the offer.”
Munslow shrugged, his hand dropping from Draco’s waist.
“I was most certainly not out here offering anything!” Draco snapped, his voice rising in pitch and panic, “and what else, pre tell, did Weasley tell his ‘locker room buddies’ about?”
Munslow at least, had the grace to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, “I’m not sure you want to know.”
“Oh,” Draco practically snarled, “I want to know.”
“Well, just that you…well, that you’re a real screamer in the sack, and that you were a bit of a kinky bastard, begging to be spanked and all that…”
As Munslow trailed off Draco could feel the utter humiliation sink in, a red blush bursting out onto his pale cheeks, and something else stirred in his stomach, worse so, his stiffening cock of all things. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of unmistakable red. Weasley was standing in a group of witches and wizards, laughing at some joke without a care in the world. It wouldn’t have surprised Draco if they were laughing at him.
Without a word he left Munslow standing on the balcony. Draco was too angry to care about how it would look storming up to Weasley. Every single person in this room probably thought he got his rocks off bending over to be spanked. His humiliation was complete, what did it matter now?
“Weasley,” he all but snapped as he stopped outside the circle, all conversation stopping and focusing on him, “may I have a word with you, outside?” without waiting for a response Draco stormed towards the exit. He heard footsteps following a little way behind him and the muttered outbreak of hushed scandalized gossiping. Storming around a corner Draco came to a garden, the lights from the party above them shedding light on the grounds below.
Draco whirled around and came face to face with Weasley, “Just who the hell do you think you are?” he snarled out, drawing his wand. He didn’t aim it at Weasley, yet.
Weasley just smiled, ignoring Draco’s drawn wand and crossed his arms over his chest, “What are you talking about Malfoy?”
“I just met one of your colleagues, who thought I would just love to be shagged out on a fucking balcony, because you apparently told the entire DMLE that I like to be fucked in public, not to mention that I’m gagging to be spanked!” Draco’s breath came in furious pants, as though he’d just exerted himself through some kind of rigorous physical activity.
Weasley had the nerve to tip his head back and let out a booming laugh, “Yeah, that was pretty funny.”
“Funny?” Draco spat, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His voice broke on the last word, his fury leaking into a desperate tightness in his chest. Weasley stopped laughing. “Do you have any idea what those people are saying about me?” He thrust his wand hand towards to open balcony above them. “Do you?!”
“Look Malfoy, just calm down,” Weasley raised his hands as if in surrender, “I only told a few buddies at work some funny exaggerations, I had to tell them something!”
“you had to tell them I’m quote “a real screamer in the sack”?” Draco looked at him incredulously as that smirk appeared back on Weasley’s face, the same one from three month prior.
“We no,” he shrugged, “I didn’t have to.”
Weasley sighed and moved closer to Draco, slowly, as if approaching a weary animal, “my guys wouldn’t have said anything, locker room talk stays in the looker room. The rest of that.” he gestured behind him to the house, “Is obviously Selwyn’s doing”.
Draco cleared his throat and sheathed his wand, the anger, like his fight, slowly leaving him.
“I’m sorry for the things they’re saying about you,” Weasley said, then he shrugged, that misplaced sinister look crossing his face, “but maybe, just a little, I like the idea of people thinking that uptight, prissy, pureblood Malfoy likes to show his ass to the word, so what was I supposed to do?”
“Nothing,” Draco snapped, crossing his arms, face burning red again, “You can go on being the merlin dammed hero and ill keep playing the part of whore. Maybe I’ll go find Munslow and let him shag me on the balcony, give them a real fucking show.” Draco went to storm away, but Weasley caught his elbow as he went to pass.
“Munslow?” he scoffed, “that prick couldn’t satisfy a blast-ended skrewt.” Weasley leered down at Draco and suddenly he forgot how to breath. In all his anger he’d forgotten just what an imposing figure Weasley could be. He was in muggle attire, too casual for the nights affair and yet Draco couldn’t tear his eyes away.
“Oh really?” Draco choked out, looking up into Weasley’s fiery eyes.
“Really.”
“and who do you propose then Weasley, to satisfy the needs of this whore?” Draco could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth. It was as though Weasley with his muggle clothes, hard body and imposing stare had all but bewitched him.
This feeling was familiar, as though Weasley’s prey. He had felt the same three months ago under his heavy gaze. For a worrying moment Draco thought Weasley was going to shrug him off, laugh at him and stroll on back to the party. He didn’t though. Instead Weasley walked him backwards, until his back hit a nearby tree.
“I recon I got your needs covered Draco,” Weasley whispered against his neck, hands on either side of his waist.
The effect Weasley had on him was instantaneous, if not for the two large hands on his waist Draco may have collapsed there and then. He physically trembled, cock hardening under his robes.
“Weasley-“
“Ron.” Weasley pushed his hips against Draco’s, slowly.
“What?” Draco’s breath hitched with the friction.
“My name is Ron.” Draco looked up and caught himself in Weasley’s hard gaze.
He pushed their hips together and rocked up, causing Draco to moan “Ron”.
Draco saw this smug smirk cross Ron’s lips as they descended on him. The kiss was harsh and hungry. Draco’s head knocked back against the trunk of the tree from the force of it. Draco’s hands came up to grip Ron’s shoulders, before diving into his hair and griping tight. Ron’s tongue slipped into his mouth and Draco was lost to the pleasure of a kiss. He moaned and pulled Ron closer. Ron, never leaving Draco’s mouth, pawed at his outer robes until they were a pile on the wet grass. They were both so hard, ready to blow in their pants like teenagers. Ron spun them around and lent back against the tree, Drawing Draco to him, Hands slipping down his back.
“Draco,” Ron growled, “Are you not wearing any pants?”
Draco blushed again, and breathlessly tried to follow Ron’s lips with his, “No,” he breathed, biting his lip. The lust in Ron’s eyes sparked and he took Draco’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucked. Ron’s hands slipped down his back and gathered the fabric of Draco’s robes in his hands, drawing it up with one hand and allowing the other to slip underneath. Both Ron and Draco moaned as Ron grabbed a handful of cheek and squeezed. His other hand drew the fabric up over the swell of his ass, exposing his naked cheeks to the night air.
Ron sucked on his neck, “If only they could only see you now,” he growled, kneading his exposed cheek and pulling it apart, exposing his clenching hole to the crisp night air, causing Draco to gasp, at his words and the sensation. “You’d like that wouldn’t you,” Ron continued, “You put no this front but we both know this turns you on, doesn’t it?” Ron’s breathing was ragged, exposing to Draco just how much it turned him on.
Draco moaned, feeling his own orgasm getting closer with each word, each dirty thought, “yes,” he breathed out, bringing his mouth back to Ron’s.
“The question is” Ron moaned, “Do you want to cum here in front of everyone, or back at my flat?”
Something Ron had said made Draco baulk, “what do you mean, in front of everyone?” Draco looked at Ron wide eyed, his heart pounding in his chest. Ron couldn’t mean what Draco thought he did. The mere suggestion made Draco’s cock jump in an excitement Draco’s brain wasn’t on board with. Ron’s wild smirk confirmed it. Draco’s head turned, looking up he gasped, fingernails digging into Ron’s arms, a red blush exploding over his skin. The balcony was full of scandalized guests, crowded together, leering at Draco’s naked behind, teetering behind their gloved hands and champagne flutes.
Draco whipped his face back around and buried it in Ron shoulder, he could feel his cock throb with perverse pleasure, an unbelievable euphoric feeling, shame and humiliation mixed with pure excitement.
“Well, what’s it going to be?” Ron asked again, squeezing his naked cheek, a show for the leering crowd.
Looking up Draco was caught in an internal war before deciding, whispering, “your flat, I want you to fuck me first.”
Ron grinned and as he was about to apparate them away, an indistinguishable voice yelled “give him a spank then!”
Ron’s grin widened, he lifted his hand, and as it was about to come down, the apparated. Landing in Ron’s flat the slap echoed against the walls, Draco’s cheek bouncing. Draco yelled out and bit down on Ron’s throat.
“Do that again.”