Title: Silently calling you

Chapter: 1/?

Rating: R, to be safe.

Disclaimer: I own not Harry Potter or any HP merchandise. Too bad, though

Dedication: Ah, I dedicate this to the lovely Alcorest, who has more than likely become the Malfoy to my Weasley. Well, only because Alcorest loves to kill my heart. Blah.

Warnings: Yaoi. Ron/Malfoy. Kinda depressing.

-     I only talk a little while //\\ I'll be quiet soon     -

Ron didn't talk that much anymore. Not after the war, after Hermione, his family, and Neville had been lost. No one blamed him; he'd been through a lot for a sixteen year old. Harry wasn't back from Nigeria, where he'd been sent to bring back a student or something of the sorts, and Ron had stayed in his room, quiet and lonely and pathetically sad. It actually physically hurt Draco Malfoy to think of it. This was mostly his fault, he figured, because Dean and Seamus had blamed him for it. Of course, that really meant nothing, but Draco wouldn't believe that. Besides, Ron's depression just seemed like something he'd end up causing whether he wanted to or not.

            Sometimes, Ron wanted to scream. But screaming announced the possibility of conversation, and he just wasn't ready to talk, not yet. But to scream, to just let out all of his anger, all his frustration would be a thing of splendor. Of course, you'd never hear Ron using the word splendor, because Ron Weasley just didn't use big words. It was unheard of, unknown, and not right. There were most likely better words to describe it, but he was too tired to go look them up. That was more of a Hermione Granger thing to do, and he didn't do anything like his former friend. After all, what good were her intelligence if she were dead now?

            Then there was the Malfoy thing, something Ron wasn't ready to face ever. He couldn't bring himself to hate the other teen, even after he had betrayed not only Ron but himself by letting their relationship go on a simple jealousy issue. Ron couldn't help it if he needed to touch someone at all times. If he didn't he feared they'd leave him alone, like his family members, who had fought so brilliantly at his side, had. Now the teen was miserable, heartbroken, and Draco flaunted what they had, dangling it like fresh meat. It was awful. Horrible, and if, like Hermione, he'd carried a pocket Thesaurus, he would have many other names to call it as well.

-     You don't seem to listen anyways//\\ I'll be leaving you alone soon.     –

            Of course, Malfoy didn't understand why Ron always needed to touch people. It confused him. He had never needed anyone with him; he was use to being alone. And even though he and the red head had tried to remain friends, he still patted his shoulder and such, the red head had become more secluded from him then before. It bothered Malfoy more then he'd like it to, and that in it's self worried him. He didn't want to care. He wanted to forget what they had. What they'd lost.

            This, of course, was proven by Malfoy ignoring Ron and spending all his time with Pansy instead. Ron didn't mind; they were friends, and friends hung out. But he wished sometimes he could be included, if only because his own friends were gone.  SO, instead, Ron would sit alone, trying to avoid Seamus' and Dean's questions or conversations. In all reality, in a time like this, surprisingly he missed Neville. The other teen had been pretty close to him without knowing it, and now, he only wished he'd been nicer to Neville.

-     Even if you watched me//\\ you'd never notice the signs     -

            Everyone understood that Ron was off limits while he was still grieving. The only problem was, Ron had yet to stop grieving. It had been nearly a month, and the red head had gotten, if possible, worse. People would whisper about the marks Lavender had found on his arm in class, talk about how he fell asleep in class, wonder why he skipped off potions or care of magical creatures to sleep in front of the old maple down by the lake. No one asked him about any these things; why push when it could only drive him further?

            Or maybe it was because everyone thought he was going crazy. Which could have been true, he was well on his way at least. People who went through wars like that tended to go crazy, didn't they? Of course they did. But it didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but the sweet escape of a steel blade and the angry words that slid over his protective bubble like rain on a slate roof. But Ron felt his gutter was clogged, and that soon, everything would build up to the point that he'd explode. But when would it happen?

            Malfoy had, if possible, gone back to how he had once been. Angry at Ron's mistreatment of himself, he pushed him away, and everyday he felt a little bit more of his old self returning. Which was neither good nor bad, but a little bit of both. He couldn't stand seeing Ron that way; broken and alone.

                        Then again, it wasn't like he was trying to fix Ron either.