Chapter 3 – Save Me

Ron repressed a sigh of relief, Draco had come. He had half thought it was a set up and he wouldn't show. Draco was stood still, staring as Ron approached. He felt his ears go red. He noticed for the first time how clumsily he walked, he bowed and stooped; on old habit to make his robes look longer. His awkward gait had never been so apparent until now, under the watchful eye of Draco Malfoy, he found himself consciously trying to walk straighter.

Ron's mind pictured Draco's walk, the casual yet confident way he glided across the floor.

He had finally crossed the distance between them, and now stood awkwardly facing his sworn enemy at a secret meeting in a dark secluded area after lying to his best friends. Oh god, was this a good idea?

Ron grinned nervously, unsure of what to say he just stared at the shorter boy. His eyes look red, Ron noted in surprise, leaning in to get a better look. "What are you looking at weasel?" Draco snarled stepping back. Ron's face flooded with heat, he was such an idiot, as if that heartless prick had been crying. Ron stood stiffly wondering, not for the first time, if he'd made a mistake in coming. He felt a lump in his throat and inwardly cursed himself for dropping his guard enough to let the stupid little ferret to get to him. "I'm just gonna' go" he muttered, turning to leave. "Wait!" Draco's voice rang out loud and clear, his hand shooting out to grab Ron's arm. Ron froze, turning back to give the other boy a wide eyed stare of disbelief.

Draco, looking annoyed with something, slowly withdrew his hand. Ron's arm burned were he had touched him. "Do you... Do you want to play Quidditch?" Draco stared Ron down defiantly, daring him to decline his request."Yeah" Ron mumbled looking at his feet.


The clear night turned out to be perfect conditions for a secret Quidditch meeting, Draco could see the whole of the grounds perfectly, but something much more interesting had caught his eye. A flash of ginger, billowing robes and a tiny glint of gold. Grinning Draco threw himself into a deep plunge. They'd been at it for hours; Draco didn't even know what time it was. He had decided to take it upon himself to teach his Weasel the fine art of being a seeker.

They had been working on the Wronski Fient until Weasley's surprisingly sharp eyes had caught sight of the snitch. "Incoming bludger!" Draco yelled prompting Ron to to use the Sloth Grip Roll. He was certainly getting better. With a final, Draco felt unnecessary, flourish Weasley promptly snatched the snitch out of the air. Holding it triumphantly he drifted down to the ground, Draco followed. "Not bad Weasley, a few weeks being coached by me and you might even be half decent" Draco smirked at the taller boy. "Did you see my Wronski Fient? Ron shouted, breathless with excitement.

"Not bad" Draco conceded replaying the maneuver over in his mind, "You pulled up early though, we'll have to work on that next..." Draco trailed off at the open mouthed stare from the taller boy. "What?" He snapped, defensive.

"No... Nothing, it's just... It's the first time we've ever had a normal conversation, y'know without... shouting" the ginger boy finished, somewhat lamely.

Draco's heart constricted painfully before he managed to arrange his features into a snarl "Don't think because I took pity on your terrible flying skills that we're friends you filthy blood traitor" he hissed into Ron's face, savoring, only for a sweet moment, the soft scent of the other boys skin.

Weasley's ears flushed red "As if!" he shouted, hurt plain in his voice.

Draco, unable to stand the hurt puppy dog eyes any longer turned on his heel and began making his way back toward the castle. It took every last bit of strength he had not to look back.

Back in his dormitory Draco lay on his four poster staring moodily at the wall. He'd fucked it all up. It had been going so well; why did he always have to act like that? Why did he always say that stuff? Draco didn't care about blood traitors or mud bloods. Petty words that he had repeated like a foolish parrot. It was that damn letter that had done it, he had been unable to get it out of his mind. Draco slipped his hand into his robe pockets to read; once again, the 4 words that had crushed him. His heart stopped... The note wasn't there! His heart beat returned, twice as fast as normal as he shot off his bed searching the floor. Dropping to his knees he half crawled beneath the four poster, eyes scanning desperately in the ever increasing darkness, for the slip of parchment that held his fate.

A sudden, blood curdling thought occurred, the quidditch pitch.

Jumping to his feet Draco began to run, blood pumping in his ears, one thought screaming over and over again in his mind.

Please don't let him see.


Ron stood watching Draco's rapidly retreating figure.

He felt hollow. What had he expected to happen? A couple of hours flying together was not going to erase six years of hatred. Ron tore his eyes away from the now tiny figure of the blond boy to stare morosely at the ground. He was just starting to think about heading back when something caught his eye; a single piece of parchment trailing along the ground in the breeze, Ron watched it for a moment before curiosity got the better of him and he snatched it up. Unfurling the slightly damp parchment Ron read the four words inscribed there.

It is time.

Lucius

Ron stared at the words for a long time, trying to gain insight into their hidden meaning. His mind flashed to Draco's red eyes and a feeling of repressed fear began to rise in his throat. There was something malignant about those words, something dark he could not place his finger on. And with a sense of foreboding Ron set of at a sprint towards the castle.

Towards Draco.