The Other Boys
"I should have seen this coming," sighed a very disgruntled Ron when faced with a dead end hallway. The combination of his luck the past few days and the mischievous magic that was Hogwarts, seemed to be lethal. They had conspired to make this day one of the worst of his life so far. Okay, so that was over-dramatic, but as Ron stared at the stone blockade, he couldn't help but feel a feint conspiracy theory pulling at the back of his mind. He slammed a fist against the offending stones and howled in pain. Now he was late for Transfiguration, and his fist was both throbbing and probably broken. "Shit," he winced as he cradled the crying digits.
"Fantastic Weasley," was heard behind him. Ron turned and faced the snide face of Draco Malfoy, leaning up against one of the many locked doors that lined the hallway. "A real stroke of brilliance that." Just what the wounded boy needed.
"Shut it Malfoy," snarled Ron as his ears turned red and if it weren't for the fact that his hand was shooting arrows of pain he would have punched the sneer right off of the other boy's self-righteous face. He moved to turn back down the deserted hall, when the blonde stood center, blocking both versions of retreat. "Move."
"No," Draco stated. There was no malice in his words; it was simply a statement. He looked the other boy up and down with a hint of disdain etched in his distinguished features. His grey eyes lighted upon Ron's swelling appendage and he reached for his wand.
Ron shot his other hand quickly into the pocket of his robes where he had stashed his wand earlier after hexing Peeves. His face was white as he drew it and pointed it dead between Draco's eyes. "Don't..."
Draco looked up genuinely surprised by the fear hidden haphazardly behind the other boy's glinting eyes. "Don't point that thing at me Weasel," demanded Draco. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm going to fix your hand." Ron did not lower his wand. He did not look comforted; in fact, he looked even more terrified.
"You're...what...I...why?" the red-head spluttered.
"It's broken," stated the shorter teen as he reached for it and took it gently in his. Under his breath he uttered an incantation and Ron felt a warm tickling sensation flow upward from the tips of his fingers into his wrist. Draco let Ron's hand fall to his side, and Ron flexed it wonderingly.
"Thanks," he said strained.
"Don't get used to it Weasel," smirked the other boy. "I just didn't want anyone thinking that the only thing I could do to you on my own was break your hand."
Ron's face became the color of a beet. "So what, you'd rather they thought you let a lowly blood-traitor like myself walk away?"
"Crawl,"corrected Draco.
"What?" asked Ron disbelievingly.
"Crawl away Weasley," Draco said as he checked his hair absent mindedly in the mirror on the opposite wall. "Wizards of your stature can't afford to walk."
Ron sputtered in rage. This was just too much. "Fuck you Malfoy." He pushed past down the hall.
"Only in your lonely pathetic dreams," called Draco after him.