Harry Potter smiled sardonically to himself and thought of Severus. "If you say so, Ron... But I wouldn't count on it. Don't worry mate. You and 'Mione only broke it off last month. Give it some time. I'm sure you'll be with someone else by Christmas." Ron sighed and tossed another stone. The talk moved on to quidditch and the pair dived into analysis of the last school match.
Draco moved back into the woods, dramatic posturing forgotten in exchange for a wicked grin. The Weasel had really filled out in the past year, with tall awkward lankiness giving way to a lean grace. This would be fun. He hadn't had a male lover since Blaze Zabini last year, and poor sad Ronald would make an interesting conquest. Draco walked onward around the lake, smiling to himself as a plan formed in his head. center /center
Ron hated Mondays. His irritation came more from the fact that he had double potions first thing followed by divinations than the usual Monday morning blues, however. At least I get a nap after dealing with the Great Bat, he thought, sighing over his bacon sandwich. With a rustle of wings, the mail descended on the great hall. Ron started in surprise when a lovely black owl dropped a thick vellum envelope on his plate and landed softly next to the toast awaiting his crusts. He distractedly offered her some bacon and bent to examine his mail. The envelope had no return address. It was simple, sealed with a blob of green wax and had RW printed on the front in a neat hand. Intrigued, Ron popped the seal and pulled out the enclosed stationery. His eyes went straight to the bottom looking for a signature, but there was none. The page was blank except for a few lines towards the center.
biMondays are my favorite days,
Because your eyes I see –
In early morning dungeon dusk,
You are like a sun,
Glowing in the murky depths,
A red brown dawn against black stone walls. /i/b
He felt like his eyes were bugging out of his head. Who? Why? It had to be some kind of joke. He glanced up from his absorption with the poem and realized he was one of the last few at breakfast. Hurriedly, he shoved the parchment in the envelope and shoved the envelope into the bottom of his bag. Then he ran for the dungeons. center /center
In potions that day, Ron used one of Harry and Snape's violent arguments as a cover to examine the faces and the gazes of his fellow classmates. As Harry's yelling rose to a crescendo, and Snape coolly handed out detentions, Ron found every eye fixed on Harry's red face and none on his own. i'I should have known it wouldn't be that easy,'/i he thought to himself, stirring his potion haphazardly.i 'I guess I'll have to wait and see. It could be a joke.'/i
center /center
Tuesday at breakfast, Ron found himself awaiting the mail with a touch of nervous excitement. When he heard the rustling of wings, he peered upward, searching out the black owl. There she was! She swooped in from the corner, carrying a package this time. It was a long wooden box with a filigree clasp and a medallion with a snake fighting a lion carved into the top. The box looked expensive. He was almost afraid to open it, but curiosity overcame nerves and he slowly lifted the lid. As he did so, a slip of vellum fell out; this one was written in the same careful hand as the other, only this time in bright green ink.
biYou are still silence during chaos Your eyes roaming Chill concentration coating brown depths.
You look for me And see me not As I stare in awe through dropped eyelashes.
Some day I hope you will see me. Until then, wear this and think of me.
Red like your hair, like your house.
And an eye to see what's needed. /i/b
Inside was a lovely red tiger's eye set in gold. Ron slid the necklace on in shock. Ok so maybe this wasn't a joke. Maybe this was... Well he didn't know yet, but it was definitely a distraction from his melancholy. Thoughts of Hermione put aside for the time being, Ron headed off to Herbology.
center /center
Wednesday morning found Ron sleeping in. A small mishap in charms the day before had gotten him a trip to Madam Pomfrey and a half a day off classes. He lay there at 11 o'clock, luxuriating in sleeping in, when a small sound of shuffling startled him to full wakefulness. A house elf stood at the foot of his bed with a breakfast tray and a white vellum envelope. The note inside was only a sentence: The dungeons were darker this morning. Ron smiled to himself. Breakfast in bed from his secret admirer. He, Ron Weasley, the terminal sidekick had a secret admirer. It was time to make a list.
center /center
Thursday morning found Ron once again at breakfast, but distracted. He had made a list of all the members of his potions class and was trying to hazard a guess as to which one his new admirer could possibly be. For a second, he held out a wild hope that it was "Mione, trying to get back together with him, but then he remembered her with Neville, giggling under her breath while Snape was busy doing his daily yelling routine with Harry, and Harry of course was out of the running. Dean and Seamus could be crossed off, since they were both very proudly heterosexual. As Ron continued crossing people off, he began to worry. As he went along, more and more of the remaining possibilities were Slytherin. Maybe this was a twisted joke after all. He fingered his pendant and pondered. "A damned expensive joke," he muttered and stared at the list again. There was no note from the admirer that day, but Ron was too involved with his list to notice.
center /center
Friday morning was rainy and dank; no one wanted to be in class when bed was warm and comforting, and the halls were cold and clammy. Ron huddled over his tea and hated school while he tried to wake the rest of the way up. When the mail came, he saw the little black owl was back, with a rather large box this time. She dropped it in his lap and landed softly to sip his tea and watch him open it. Tied to the top was the usual envelope.
bi A perfect melding,
Green and red.
Gryffindor and Slytherin.
As we will be. /i/b
The box contained two dozen scarlet roses in full bloom, magically trapped at the point of perfection.
Enough was enough. Ron was intrigued, interested, and very flattered, but he was being driven to distraction by not knowing who this person was. He didn't even know the person's sex. All he knew was that he was being courted by a Slytherin. It was time, Ron decided, to start writing back. He pulled out parchment and quill and began.
biTo my Slytherin Friend –
It feels damn odd writing this since I don't know your name or sex or even if this is a joke or not. I just wanted to say that whatever you are after, you have caught my attention. Won't you write back and tell me something about your self? What do you do for fun? I am fond of chess. Do you follow Quidditch? I do. How much do you know about me anyhow?
Ron/i/b
Decisively, Ron sealed the note and ran to the Owlery to mail it. The little black owl looked at him sideways and chuckled. Clearly she had been expecting him. As she winged off to deliver the note, Ron's nerves finally hit him. Oh god, what had he done? Had he just expressed interest in an unknown Slytherin? He walked slowly back to the common room, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.