Harry Potter is the property of the Wonderful J.K. Rowling, and I used her characters without permission, but with extreme respect.

Two Heads

"Weasel..."

Ron grit his teeth, and hunched his shoulders a little further, scratching a little harder on his parchment.

"Weasel..." the voice sing-songed again, and Ron just ground his teeth, trying not to listen. He was working hard on his potions essay, for once, trying not to fail since Harry wasn't letting him use the Prince's text-book, so here he sat in the back corner of the library, scribbling away.

"Oh, Weasel..."

And Draco Fucking Malfoy wouldn't leave him alone!

"What's the matter, Weasel? Owl got your tongue?"

Ron gripped his quill so hard the poor thing cracked right in half, splintering. Swearing, Ron tossed the shattered remains across the table, and dug in his backpack for another.

"Break your last quill, Weasel?" Malfoy purred from the shadowy bookshelf he lounged behind.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron sighed, not wanting to admit that the boy was right.

Draco slid from the shadows, holding a quill out between forefinger and thumb. "Want to borrow mine, Weasel? I know you're too poor to afford another of your own."

Ron narrowed his eyes at the blond. "Why? What's the price, a pound of flesh? My head on a silver platter for your quill?"

The Slytherin snorted. "No."

"Yeah, cause I so believe you," Ron sneered, retrieving his quill and checking to see if it could be salvaged.

"Merlin's Honour," Draco answered, holding up his other hand defensively. "I don't want you dead."

Ron peered at him sideways. "Why not?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm too bored for you to die."

The redhead spluttered. "What?!"

Draco shrugged, again. "Who will I make fun of if you're dead? Besides," he frawled, "Muggle loving though your family is, you are Purebloods." He wriggled the quill forward, a single eyebrow raised. "Look, do you want to borrow, or not? You will need to get the bloody essay done, or even Slug will have to fail you."

Ron sighed. "No catch?"

Malfoy sneered. "What do you take me for?

"A Malfoy," Ron sighed, but reached forward, and snatched the quill. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Now. For the catch." Draco moved forward to sit in the seat beside Ron.

"Figured," Ron muttered, dipping the quill nonetheless, and started writing.

"I have the best marks, next to Granger, you know that," Draco said firmly. "However, that oaf Hagrid is being utterly unreasonable, and I'm doing poorly in his class."

"Probably because you mock him in class," Ron muttered.

"Never mind that," Draco waved a hand flippantly. "He failed my last essay, do you know that? And now I have to rewrite it. It's about these stupid things, I don't know, disembodied brains. He said you got the best marks in the class on that essay."

Ron swallowed, unconsciously scratching at the tentacle scares under his shirt sleeves. "So?"

"So that's my catch." Draco crossed his arms. "Help me rewrite the essay."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You don't just want me to do it myself?"

Draco snorted. "Please. I do want to pass."

The redhead sighed, laughing. "Yeah, fine."

"Excellent," Draco smirked, leaning back in his chair. "It should turn blue, not green."

"Huh?" Ron blinked.

Draco jerked his chin at Ron's parchment. "When you add Wormwood, it'll turn blue, not green."

Ron straightened his shoulders, checking the book. Sure enough... "Thanks!"

Draco looked away, examining his nails. "Yeah, just don't tell anyone."

"Okay," Ron smiled goofily.

"I mean it," Draco glowered. "I'll hex you."

"I know," Ron grinned, and went back to work.