FRIEND

Ron slumped down in his seat. His eyes were so tired; he could hardly read his homework. He breathed in deeply, forced himself to concentrate, and dipped his quill into his inkbottle to write.

Clink. Beside him, Harry, laughing at something Hermione had said, had accidentally jogged Ron's arm and the bottle had tipped over.

Harry looked up from his conversation with his girlfriend, smiled at Ron apologetically and halfheartedly grimaced at the table, where the bottle of ink lay on its side, staining the wood and drenching Ron's homework. "Ron, sorry! Yes, Hermione, I know!" he grinned at her, Ron forgotten.

The redhead, if possible, sank down lower. A whole night's work . . . ruined. He shuddered to think of what would happen in class the next day. He had promised Snape an essay about Love Potions to make up for the school he'd missed while he was at home tending to his family after his dad's death.

The Dark Lord had killed his father.

He was working in his office when Voldemort entered with his Death Eaters and killed everyone in sight. Ron remembered the fateful night. He, dining in the Great Hall alone (Harry was with Hermione again) received an owl and before he knew it, he was on the train home with Ginny.

Ron didn't remember what happened next. Everything had just passed by in a blur of tears.

Seeing the roll of parchment lying on the table, he sighed and told himself it was an accident. But then again, everything is an accident in Harry's case, he thought. It was hard not to yell at his best friend. Ron satisfied himself with the thought that Harry had gone through worse times than he did.

Gathering his saturated homework, he stood up to leave.

Come on . . . he told himself. Say goodnight to them. You're their friend. Maybe they'll notice you.

He forced a smile and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Goodnight, Hermione, Goodnight, Harry." For a split second, he thought they would acknowledge him.

Instead, Hermione, shrugged him off and smiled at him briefly before answering Harry.

Ron's shoulders sagged, and he trudged off to bed.

The next day he ran, panting to the dungeons. He was late for Potions. He'd woken up late, skipped breakfast and hastily performed a charm to make his homework presentable on the way. He didn't notice, before he left his dormitory, an owl, sitting on the window ledge. It had a small letter tied to its leg.

Snape looked up as Ron burst into the classroom. "Late . . . Weasley. For the second time, so let's make it ten times as many points from Gryffindor, shall we? And a further fifty if you still haven't done the essay you promised me. Where is it?"

Ron shamefully drew out the pitiful roll of parchment. Snape frowned, took it between his middle finger and thumb (it was still wet). He pointed to a seat at the back of the room.

Ron sat down silently and looked at his lap. He avoided everyone's gaze, though everyone was looking at him curiously. Everyone except Hermione and Harry. They probably didn't even see him arrive.

Draco watched Ron, smirking. Once a spaz, always a spaz, he thought.

Harry smiled to himself as he ran up the stone staircase to his room. He and Hermione were going to Hogsmeade, and he couldn't wait.

Ron looked up as Harry entered. His face was tearstained, and he looked as though he had aged ten years. Harry chuckled. "Haven't been sleeping well lately, have we Ron? I'm going to Hogsmeade- see you at dinner!" Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Harry walked out, his footfalls echoing.

Ron broke down into tears. A crumpled piece of paper was at his feet. He didn't dare read what was in it again-it was too painful.

Ron,

Percy took over your father's job. He was on his way to the office. He didn't Apparate in case he landed near one of You-know-who's hideouts. A Death Eater confronted him on his way and . . .

Please, dear . . . come home.

Mum

"Ron?" he looked up from his bed. Ginny stood beside him, shaking. Ron reached out to hug her, and she collapsed into his arms and wept. Brother and sister clung to each other for a long time.

Ron closed his eyes, a tear seeping through his lashes in Snape's class the next day. He didn't care if they saw him crying. School was the last thing on his mind, and so were Harry and Hermione. They still didn't know Percy had died, and Ron had no intention to tell them.

In front, Draco stood up to recite his essay on Love Potions. He looked around to see who was watching, and proceeded in a clear voice. Ron looked up dully.

"A Love Potion is composed of twelve scoops of powdered ivy leaves, the juice of a black rose and a dash of olive wine." Draco said. "Love Potions were almost banned because of the risk of adding too much ivy leaves. Even just a drop can cost you your life. Therefore, these solutions must be created with great caution." He smiled at Snape, then sat down.

Ron wasn't listening, but he caught the words too much and cost life. Draco, watching him from his seat, raised an eyebrow.

Why's Weasley so. . . drab? Did his family lose their scrap of a house? He thought. He was interrupted by Snape's voice.

"Good, Draco! Ten points to Slytherin!"

Draco grinned. He almost turned to face the two empty seats behind him, but remembered that Crabbe and Goyle weren't present. His smile faded as he remembered why.

Crabbe and Goyle are really stupid. Why the heck would they want to kill people? Why would anyone care to become a Death Eater?

He frowned and leaned back in his chair. No matter how much father forces me, I won't become a Death Eater. I've always gotten my way. He resolved. I will get at anything to have my way this time.

Ron wrapped his arm around his sister as the train pulled into the station. HE couldn't wait to get home and make sure his family was safe.

Ginny shivered in the chilly afternoon air as passengers were herded out of the train. Ginny walked forward, dragging her trunk, but Ron pulled her back.

"Wait, Gin." He said.

Finally they got inside. Ron, looking out the window, saw Harry and Hermione, walking hand ing hand across the grounds. His heart ached, and he turned his attention to Ginny.

As the train got ready to pull away, Hermione and Harry linked arms and watched the train. Hermione squinted into the distance. "Say, Harry- isn't that Ron?"

Harry looked. "Looks like. We'd better get inside, Dumbledore's going to have a fit if were'e out after dark.

They walked away.

Ron, upon arriving, flew into his mother's arms. She seemed so much shorter than last time. Ginny was sobbing into Bill's cloak. Charlie, Fred and George sat on the battered sofa, watching wordessly.

Ron cast around in his troubled mind for something to say. He found nothing except a sob, and he slumped down to the floor.

Draco pushed a Ravenclaw third year out of the way, muttering to himself. He stormed into the Great Hall and threw himself on a bench, not bothering to eat dinner. He wasn't hungry. Besides, he would probably be served with some delicious dinner later that night.

That's right. He had to go home, too.

The thought gave him no pleasure at all. His father wanted him to go home so he could bring him to have the Dark mark on his arm. Doesn't he know I don't want to? I don't want to be branded.

He rested his chin on his elbows and put his head down on the table. Suddenly, he felt a cold hand on his shoulder.

The Bloody Baron smiled proudly. "Ah…Draco. Come to have yourself the Mark, eh? Good for you." He gestured to someone standing by the door. Draco froze. His father, waiting.

He heavily got up on wobbly legs and walked to the door. It seemed like he wouldn't have his way now.

Draco wasn't mad anymore. He was scared. Once the Dark Mark would be imprinted on him, it would be permanent. He would have to live his whole life as a Death Eater, devoted to the Dark Arts forever.

He locked himself in his room, giving himself time to think of a way to avoid getting it. He banged his head against the wall, but when he finally sat down on his bed, holding his spinning head, he was still at sea, and with messy hair.

He shivered in the night breeze. His gaze fell to the window of his room, allowing a shred of moonlight to pass through.

He had an idea.

He took off his robes, grimacing at the Muggle clothes he had on underneath. He donned a leather cloak instead. He tied an armful of robes from his closet and little by little let the makeshift rope out the window.

As he hoisted himself up, Draco looked at his handiwork; a linkage of clothng, awkwardly swinging on the stone wall. He shrugged, prayed that he was doing the right thing, and climbed down.

The 'rope' was considerably strong. He made his way down, like a cat cautiously walking on a wall. He cursed himself for having a room on the top level of his house. But after much grunting and pulling, he was two floors away from the ground.

Rrriiip.

Draco tantalizingly looked up. One of his old school robes was hanging by only a sleeve from its connection. Before he knew it, the shred of cloth gave way, and he fall to the ground, twisting an ankle.

He lay on the ground for a few seconds, groaning silently. Steadying himself on his good foot, he clung to the wall and detached the last robe from the next. He wrapped it around himself and crept across the grass, limping slightly.

He had never known how to get home; he was always brought around the countryside by a carriage. He felt vulnerable and unsafe as he skimmed the dark grounds of his house. A house he hardly knew.

Spotting the gates he slipped out of them. It was most fortunate that he was thin. The moonlight illuminated his angular figure as he limped out into the world.

Ron looked out of the window, as if searching for Percy in the gloom of the night. Everyone was asleep already. The twins asleep in their room, Ginny and her mother in his parents' room, Bill in Ginny's room and Charlie . . . in Percy's room.

Percy's room. Ron didn't want to think about the fact of Percy not being in his room.

As the night breeze blew against his face, he felt afraid, for the first time. He was afraid for his family . . . he apprehensively looked out at his garden, then to the fields that surrounded the Burrow.

Someone was walking across the fields. A thin figure, creeping through the corn husks. Ron stepped back, gasping. Could it be a Death Eater