He retained this comforting thought until about 3pm the next afternoon, when he went down to Hagrid's hut to collect the keys to some of the remoter gates and buildings he had to inspect, and found Ron up to his elbows in grease wrestling with something that had large metal teeth and seemed to snarl alarmingly. Ron grunted absently when Draco greeted him and told him what he needed.

"Right. Hold this while I find them." Draco wrinkled his nose in revulsion.

"Hold that?" he said in disgust. "What is it exactly? And I am most certainly not touching it. It's filthy."

"Sit down and wait then," replied Ron shortly. "And don't touch anything or distract me. It's an enchanted gin trap, and I'm trying to neutralise it. Be quiet."

Draco fidgeted in silence for a few minutes, as Ron tried various charms. Nothing worked.

"What's wrong with it?" asked Draco, finally, as Ron tried to restrain it. Ron looked up, and in that instant the trap gave a wriggle and slipped free of his grasp. It slammed onto his fingers; then raced for Draco. Ron, cursing with pain, leaped on it, blood dripping from his fingers.

"I told you to shut up," he snarled between his teeth at Draco. "Hand me that hammer." Draco did so, obediently keeping quiet this time. Ron held the trap down with one hand and smashed the hammer into one of the trap's hinges with the other. The hinge came apart, and the trap snapped drunkenly. Ron dropped it into a cage, which Draco could see had already been damaged by the trap, and shut the lid.

"Next time I am doing something and tell you to be quiet, kindly do so,¡± Ron snapped, moving over to the sink to clean his hands.

"Well, forgive me for not realising that the work of a groundskeeper was so important," snapped Draco back. Ron hissed with pain as he washed his injured hand. The trap had cut through the skin down to the bone in places, and he needed to get it stitched at once.

"Shut up. If that thing had got you, you'd be injured too, and then I'd have to fix you up as well."

"I hope you are not going to attempt to heal your hand." Draco stood to get a look at the injuries. "You need to see Pomfrey."

"I wouldn't have to see anyone at all if you had shut up like I told you to, Malfoy. Hand me the soap."

"You're going to clean it with this? You'll get gangrene."

"Do you see anything else lying round that can clean off grease? Shut up and hand me the soap, or the next thing the hammer connects with is your pointy little nose."

"Fuck off, Weasley. There's no need to be so rude. Give me your hand."

"What? Not likely." Ron's tone was surly as the soap stung the deep cuts.

"I am an expert at healing charms."

"And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

"Fine then." Draco was yelling now. "I try to help, and what do I get? Abuse! Fine. Fix your own hand." He turned to stalk out of the room, when he heard a loud bang behind him. He turned round, and the next thing he knew, he was on the floor with grimy metal fangs snapping a few inches from his face. Ron was on top of him suddenly, cursing and straining to restrain the trap from closing on Draco's head. He wrestled it into a hug, half wedged between his chest and Draco's, and leaned forward over it, his face close to Draco's.

"Get me a belt," he panted. Draco didn't bother to argue, just reached between their bodies and unbuckled Ron's belt. He was quickly pulling it from the loops when the door opened.

"Holy fucking Jesus, what is going on here?" Ron was so shocked he dropped the trap and it closed on his arm. He yelled and rolled off Draco, who pounced on the trap as it scuttled for the door, landing half on top of Ron. They both glared up at a very amused, but slightly shocked looking, Harry Potter, whose eyebrows rose almost to his hairline as he took them in, sweaty, flushed and panting, with Ron's belt half undone. Draco staggered to his feet, struggling to hold the trap.

"It would serve you right if I let this go now," he snarled at Harry. Ron undid the rest of his belt and wrapped it firmly round the struggling trap.

"If that doesn't hold it till the ministry gets here I am going to completely destroy it and they can kiss my freckled arse when it comes time to explain how it got this way," he panted.

"Relax, boys," said Harry, leaning against the door. "Is that the enchanted muggle object I've been sent to collect? Here I was thinking that I was interrupting some very kinky dirty sex."

"Ha ha," muttered Ron, dropping the trap back into a different, but no less battered, cage, watching it struggle against the leather belt. "I think that should do it. It doesn't seem to have any tricks to cope with it." He seemed to focus on Harry properly for the first time, asking: ¡°What are you doing here? They can't possibly have sent you to collect it."

"True," said Harry. "I just accompanied the collector."

"Then take that cage outside and give it to them, will you? Draco, will you please clean and heal my cuts?" he looked straight at Draco as he said the words, an unspoken apology in his face. Draco moved over to the sink and rolled up his sleeves, and didn't answer. Harry hefted the struggling cage and took it outside, casting an amused glance back at Ron and Draco, already arguing over the best way to clean the grease out of the cuts.

Later that night, Draco joined Ron and Harry briefly in the Three Broomsticks for a drink. He didn't stay long, but had a brief chat before leaving them to their reminiscences.

"Where are you staying tonight, Harry?" he asked, as he picked up his lightweight summer cloak.

"Oh, in Ron's bed, probably, with a barrier of pillows down the middle to stop him from jumping on me in the night."

"Really? Is this a longstanding arrangement?" he asked, seemingly unconcerned.

"Well, we've had to share a bed before, but I prefer my bed fellows to have breasts. Ron doesn't seem to care." Harry laughed as Ron started to blush, and Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed. I will see you tomorrow."

They watched Draco walk out, and Ron turned back to Harry, face still pink.

"Thanks a lot, Harry. What was that for?"

"I didn't know you had become sensitive about being outed, Ron."

"It's not something I tell everyone."

"Nevermind. I thought Draco already knew, the way he was trying to wrestle your belt off you, while you had him pinned to the ground, both all sweaty and panting."

"Goddam it, Harry, it was the trap!"

"No need to shout, Ron, I'm right here." Harry took a long gulp of his drink. "It didn't look like either of you were objecting too much to the proximity. If you know what I mean." He winked suggestively, and Ron's face flamed. "In fact, I think he was checking you out afterwards, you know, when you had your belt off and your pants slid down and there was all that hip bone exposed. It probably got him hot."

"Harry, I don't need to think about this, OK?"

"What? Why not?" Harry leaned forward. "Do you fancy him?"

Ron shook his head and buried his face in his hands. For someone who went through women the way he did, Harry showed way too much interest in Ron's love life.

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