A/N. I think I've bruised my rib and it hurts so badly. Picking up Remus has been hard and so has cleaning up around the house. Does anyone know any good remedies for bruised/injured ribs or just pain in general? All suggestions would be appreciated greatly.

So, Ron is back! Let's see how this goes…

While I wrote this, Remus and I watched Hellboy. For a six month old, he liked that movie quite a bit. He couldn't turn away. Good to know he's inherited my taste in movies.

…~oOo~…

Chapter Ten: In Which There Is A Fight

"What about Helga Hufflepuff?"

Propping his feet up on the desk, Draco shrugged. "What about her?"

"What did she go on to do?" Yvette insisted.

"I dunno," Draco said, scowling. "She popped out a dozen kids and called it a century, alright?"

"But Rowena and Godric did so much!" Adam chimed in enthusiastically. "Rowena was the smartest witch to ever live and Godric was a war hero! Even Salazar did something interesting! What about Helga?"

Draco tossed his hands in the air in irritation. "Do I look three thousand years old? How would I know the intimate details of Helga Hufflepuffs undoubtedly dull life?" With a growl, he swung down his feet and stood up, going to the chalkboard. "Let me tell you a little something about Houses." He picked up the chalk and began writing furiously on the board, listing character traits in no specific order. "Here are the traits that get you put in Gryffindor." He underlined a few of them.

Pride, Courage, Selflessness…

He internally added "idiocy" and "boorish".

"These are Slytherins'," he said, circling more traits.

Ambition, Cunning, Resourcefulness…

"And Ravenclaw." These he put dots next to them.

Intelligence, Witty, Wisdom…

"Now," Draco went on, "look what's left."

On the board with no underlining, circles, or dots were the words:

Loyalty, Hard Work, Patience, Fair Play…

"Hufflepuff is what I like to call the 'what's left' House. Those who don't fit in the other categories get thrown in there," Draco said, pacing in the front of the classroom with his hands clasped behind his back. "Loyalty – something that Gryffindors display constantly. Hard Work – a Slytherin's ambition is the hardest sort of work there is. Patience – Ravenclaws are natural teachers, so patience is a necessity. And fair play will get you know where, because it means being trodden upon those more willing to get their hands dirty.

"By far, Hufflepuff is the dullest House. No famous witches or wizards come from Hufflepuff and none ever will. They're too willing to be used and forgotten, all in the name of being 'kind'," Draco finished, facing the students head on. "Therefore, Helga probably did nothing with her life after finding Hogwarts, as it is the Hufflepuff House's only claim to fame."

There was a stretch of silence as the students processed this.

"Are you sure you aren't biased?" Yvette asked snottily.

"Of course I'm biased," Draco snapped. "I hate Hufflepuffs. There is nary a more idiotic group of wizards out there, putting aside Gryffindors."

"How do you feel about Ravenclaws, then?" Chelsea asked, very quietly.

"Pretentious swots, the lot of them," Draco answered immediately.

Adam arched an eyebrow. "Slytherins, then?"

"Slytherins," Draco said, straightening up proudly, "are the most sly, secretive, back-stabbing class of people. They are both brilliant and, sometimes, evil. Surely you know the reputation Slytherin has made for itself. The Dark Lord himself was a Slytherin, as are more of his followers. There's no secret why the Dark Mark incorporates a snake."

"When do we get Houses?" Yvette asked, too loudly.

"Never," Draco answered.

"What!" Yvette shrieked.

"Why not?" Adam asked eagerly, looking sorely disappointed.

Rolling his eyes, Draco said, "In case you haven't noticed we are in the middle of a war. I know you've been told this. And why, pray tell, would we divide our next generation of witches and wizards when now, more than ever, we all must be united?"

He let that sink in for a moment.

"It's lunchtime," Draco said dryly. "Get out of my classroom."

All three kids hurriedly gathered their things and left the classroom in haste.

Rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, Draco left the classroom as well, heading towards the library. There was a book that he wanted to take from a shelf, but it was always flying away and hiding in the darkest corners of the library. Draco hated shy texts, they were always such a pain to find.

He was walking up the winding staircase when he heard a familiar voice saying, "…and the children sleep down that corridor and into the wing. Do you want to see Tonks's portrait? She watches the kids at night, though she falls asleep often, but it's no big deal –"

"Yeah, I'd love to see her," another voice Draco knew answered. "But first I was wondering if, you know, we could talk."

"Of course, Ron," Hermione's voice said. "What do you want to talk about?"

Draco took a careful step higher and stretched his neck. He saw the back of Hermione standing with Ronald Weasley near the top of the staircase.

When did he get back? Draco wondered with a deep frown, suppressing a growl of irritation.

"I'm just…concerned, 'Mione," Ron said, sounding hesitant. "All of this is a big responsibility, you know. This whole school is a lot to take on."

"Well, sure it is," Hermione said with conviction. "But I can do it. You know I can."

"What about Teddy? Can you run a school and be a mum?"

There was a pause. "Andromeda's back, so she'll be taking Teddy from now on."

"Oh," Ron said slowly. "I thought she was just visiting. I'm sorry –"

"It's alright, Ron. I'll be fine. It just means I have more time to… you know… be a teacher and such."

"I'm still not sure about this. I mean, with what happened with you a couple years ago… the episode –"

Hermione groaned. "Call it what it is, Ronald. I had a nervous breakdown. I'm sick and tired of everyone walking on egg shells around me!"

"Well, what do you expect, Hermione? You almost burnt down Grimmauld Place!"

"It was an accident!"

"Which only makes it worse because it means you aren't in control," Ron said, more assertive than Draco had ever heard him. The ginger was usually such a wet noodle. To hear him talking back at Hermione was unusual and did piss Draco off.

"McGonagall has faith in me," Hermione snapped. "Why can't you?"

"Because I'm really worried with you! Every moment that I've been away has been spent worrying about you!"

"Well, you obviously didn't worry enough not to leave me," Hermione hissed.

"That's not fair," Ron moaned. "I'm part of the Order. I can't say not to a mission, especially one as important as recruitment."

Hermione snorted. "Please. You were excited to feel important and didn't think twice of what it would be like for me to lose you after losing Harry."

At length, Ron said, "Don't make me feel guilty for doing the right thing, Hermione. Please."

"I needed you," Hermione said, so quietly that Draco barely heard it. "I still need you." Her voice was thick but unwavering.

It was then that Draco decided it was time to reveal himself. End this before Hermione could get weepy and Draco could get angrier. And he was hoping that his arrival would make Ron's face as red as he remembered it to be in Hogwarts.

He pretending to walk the last steps unassuming, hands in his pockets, seeming to just be going about his day. Then, feigned surprise to find Ron and Hermione there.

"Weasley," Draco said wryly. "When did you get back?"

"Just this morning," Ron said, his freckled nose wrinkled, his body stiffening. "Malfoy, if you don't mind, Hermione and I were in the middle of something." He was obviously putting a lot of effort into being polite, something that the Weasel had never possessed before. Maybe it was a sign of maturity.

Or maybe he was just a sissy.

"Not anymore," Hermione said, her nose tipped up defiantly. "We were just finishing up, Malfoy. Anything I can help you with?"

"Just on my way to the library," Draco answered.

"Don't you have something else to do?" Ron demanded. "Something like, I don't know, spying like you're bloody well supposed to."

"If you have a problem with my performance thus far, feel free to say so, but might I remind you that that you haven't exactly been present for some time now," Draco said, arching an eyebrow at him. Draco kept his temper in check. He'd love to tear Weasley a new one, but was already on thin ice with Hermione. He doubted she'd appreciate him hexing her little boyfriend's balls off.

And Draco was still trying to fathom why he cared what Hermione thought.

"I'm just trying to understand why we have an inside man and we're still behind," Ron said sharply. "It's been bothering me since the beginning. Why are our people still dying when we've got a mole?"

"Ron," Hermione cut in. "You can't blame Malfoy for that."

"Sure I can," Ron said, glaring at Draco. His face was turning that bright red that went right to his hairline.

"I'm not as trusted as Snape was," Draco answered, his hands in his pockets curling into fists.

"Then what's the point of keeping you around?" Ron challenged.

"Malfoy has been a huge help!" Hermione said defensively.

"And he needs you to stand up for him, now? Spineless Slytherin, just like he always was."

Draco sneered. "I'd shut your mouth before I shut it for you, Weasley."

Ron straightened up, bringing himself to his full height, only an inch from being level with Draco. "Go ahead, Malfoy. One finger on me and the Order will want nothing to do with you."

Draco scoffed. "You're very self-important."

"They won't like you turning on your own, if we even are your own anymore."

"Say what you want to say, Weasel. I'm getting sick of this beating around the bush nonsense," Draco spat, looking Ron right in the eyes.

"I'll never trust you, Malfoy," Ron said lowly. "I think you're as bad as you always were. Harry would be sick if he knew the Order had taken you in."

"Potter would be sick if he knew you abandoned Hermione for flying around with your Quidditch idol while the rest of us fought on our home soil," Draco growled. Only later did he realize he'd called her Hermione. Not Granger.

Draco was prepared for the right hook to his jaw, but didn't duck. He figured he'd let the Weasel get one good hit in. Because not a second later, Draco had Ron's sweater clutched in his fists and slammed Weasley into the wall. Draco could hear the blood pulsing in his ears.

As a response, Ron kneed Draco in the stomach, to which the blonde man put him in a headlock.

"Stop it!" Hermione was yelling. "Stop it now, before I hex the both of you!"

Breathing heavily, Draco asked, "Are you going to play nice if I let go?"

Ron snorted, his voice choked because of the arm around his throat. "Aren't underhanded cracks your thing?"

With anger darkening his grey eyes, Draco let go of Ron with a shove. The redhead was absolutely boiling over with rage and Draco wasn't too far behind.

"You're both idiots," Hermione half-shouted, but she was mostly teary-eyed. "Ron, you shouldn't pretend to know what Draco has done for the Order…and me, for that matter. Draco, Ron doesn't deserve to be berated for just doing his job."

Draco was seething. He'd done nothing wrong. He'd played the gentleman until Weasley was the one to cross the line. He hadn't even thrown the first punch. Draco did not deserve to be scolded like a child for being the good guy.

"Whatever you say, Granger," Draco snarled, turning on his heel and marching away. He was going to go down to the gardens and hex one of those hideous gargoyles that decorated the roof.

…

"Malfoy!" Hermione called out, watching his figure disappear around the corner and back down the staircase. "Draco!" Still there was no answer. She turned on Ron in an instant. "Now do you see what your big mouth has done?"

"My big mouth?" Ron said, seeming completely oblivious to the fact that that entire fight had been his fault entirely.

"You're so…daft sometimes! Your provoked him! You started a fight over nothing! All he said was that he was off to the library and you attacked him, you prat!" Hermione berated. "You don't know anything about Draco Malfoy, Ronald."

"And you do?" Ron snapped.

"As a matter of fact, I do!" Hermione yelled back.

"So, what? You're cozy with the snake now? What would Harry think, Hermione!"

Hermione made a loud noise of frustration. "You think you can hang Harry over me, use Harry to guilt me, but you don't know what Harry would think! You hold Harry over everyone like he's a god, but he was a man, Ronald! Just like you, just like Draco Malfoy." She took a few steps back away from him.

"Go back to Grimmauld, Ron," Hermione said as she walked away. "Come back when you're ready to see sense."

…

Sulking is what a bystander would call it. Bur Draco wasn't sulking. He was merely deep in thought in a remote area of the manor where he hoped no one would find him.

The garden was overgrown and dim from all the shade that the tall foliage offered. Statues were hidden in ivy or crumbled or rusted. A fountain was dry except for a small puddle of rain water that birds came by to dip into. Weeds had taken over and killed the flowers and while most people hated weeds, Draco sympathized with them. It wasn't their fault that they wanted to grow – it was in their nature to stretch their roots and grab hold of every living thing near. What made weeds different from flowers anyways? Their colors, their attractiveness?

Draco needed to get a hobby if he was starting to feel bad for weeds.

The rubble of the gargoyle sat sadly in a pile a few meters in front of him. Draco sat stiffly on a stone bench with a crack in it and stared at the destroyed statue.

Draco knew he was going mad. Something very bad was happening to him and he couldn't control it. The more he ignored it, the more it plagued him.

"You look upset."

Draco's head turned to the new arrival. It wasn't anyone who he expected. It was the young Adam.

"I'm not," Draco answered.

Adam's head cocked to the side. "Are you sure? Because when my big brother's upset, he looks kind of like that." Without being invited, Adam sat next to Draco on the bench. "Do you fancy a girl?"

Draco's entire body tensed. "What makes you say that?"

"You look how I feel when I fancy a girl."

"You're eleven. What do you know about 'fancying girl'?"

"Plenty," Adam said confidently. "I had a girlfriend."

Well, well, look who's a ladies' man, Draco thought dryly. "Oh yeah? For how long?"

"Three days."

"What happened? Did you steal her juice box?"

"I went away to 'boarding school'," Adam said, making air quotes. He smirked. "So, are you having girl problems?"

"That, Mr. Nolan, is none of your business."

"Which means 'yes'."

Draco curled his lip and said, "Don't you have better things to do? Like getting ready for detention?"

Adam shrugged, sitting back and leaning on his hands. "I kind of like detention."

"You have a lot of nerve telling me something like that," Draco said darkly.

"Even though I feel kind of bad about getting Chelsea in trouble," Adam went on, ignoring him, "it's nice because we can hang out. It's a bonding experience, you could say."

"I didn't exactly want company right now."

"I know. But you looked like you could use a friend," Adam said cheekily.

"Let me make one thing clear," Draco said, turning his glare on Adam. "You are not my friend. I am not your friend. You are my student, I am your teacher. Learn your place before I put you there."

"You should just tell her how you feel," Adam said.

"Who is that?"

"Professor Granger."

An invisible line had been crossed. "Go. Inside. Now," Draco snarled.

Seeming unaffected by his Draco's harsh words, Adam stood up casually, his hands in his trouser pockets. "If you ever want advice about girls, I'm here to talk."

Draco had half a mind to throttle that cocky brat, but reigned it all in. He had become the master of control in only two years of being a spy. Or, at least, he liked to think of himself as such. There were moments where he'd like nothing more than to strangle someone.

Only a few minutes later, his place of hiding was invaded by Loony Lovegood and about six students out looking for another magical creature that didn't exist. They scattered around the garden, bending down low in the dirt and squinting under bushes and vines. Whatever it was they were looking for, it was supposed to be small apparently.

He wondered if that was how Lovegood justified the absence of the critters she believed in – that they were so tiny no human could see them.

Not in the mood to hear Lovegood natter about her nonsense, Draco opted to go back inside. Maybe he'd finally eat something. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a real meal.

…~oOo~…

"Two weeks into term and already Hogwarts is heading for hell," Aberforth said glumly, shaking his head. "The ol' tunnel's been stopped up, you know that, but the students have been sneaking into the pub through the back door to report on what's happening up at the school." He stroked his beard pensively for a stretch. "It's not good, Minerva."

Minerva sat primly at the shoddy wooden table, a mug of heavily scented tea in front of her. They sat in Aberforth's home in back rooms of his pub. He was a simple man with only the bare necessities, never wanting or needing. He kept a window open despite the bitterness of Scotland autumns, through which a goat poked his head, seeming content to just watch Aberforth move about and wait to be fed.

Though Minerva found it slightly abhorrent to sit on a stool so obviously filthy, she was never rude and promised internally to Scourgify her robes once she was back at Hogwarts.

"I am well aware, Aberforth," Minerva said tightly. "I am there, after all, witnessing every despicable thing those Carrows do." She looked coolly furious. "How I've managed not to curse them both is beyond me."

"Thank Merlin I never had the sense to become a teacher," Aberforth said gruffly. "I'd have both their guts for garters by now if I had to be up there. Good thing I was never bright."

"You're bright enough," Minerva said simply, a compliment nor an insult. Just an observation. "Your problem is that you're too quick to draw your wand."

"I thought you liked that about me, Minnie," Aberforth said with a wink and a teasing smile.

"Hmph," Minerva huffed indignantly, rolling her eyes. "I'd thank you not to call me Minnie. And to not make such lewd and inappropriate jokes. Save it for your barflies, Aberforth."

"Jus' trying to lighten the mood, Minnie."

"Save yourself the trouble," Minerva answered stiffly. "I want to talk to you about another tunnel."

Aberforth sighed heavily. "Another one? After having the first one collapsed by Lucius Fucking Malfoy? I'm getting old, you know. One-hundred and sixteen this December."

"You can the help of two house-elves and one Order member."

"Aw, I don't feel right about getting help from another elf," the man said, scratching his chin through the thicket of grey and white beard. "Not after Dobby. But if I have to, then Jinx will do. And who do you have to spare among the Order?"

"Ronald Weasley just returned from a long mission," Minerva offered. "I'm sure he'd appreciate being only a Floo away from home."

"That dolt?" Aberforth scoffed. "How about that Longbottom fellow? He was a good lad, a hard worker."

Minerva was shaking her head. "He is indisposed, remember? He's been teaching young Muggle-borns in your old house."

His big bushy eyebrows pulled together. "Mould-on-the-Wold?"

"Yes, you gave us permission, don't you recall?"

"Huh. Guess my memory is going. Something about a school, right?"

"Indeed. Run by Miss Granger."

"Now, she was a smart one," Aberforth said with grudging admiration. "She'll do a fine job, I think."

"I think so too."

"Did you check all the rooms?"

"Of your old home?"

"Aye," he confirmed.

"No," Minerva said, arching an eyebrow. "Why? You said there was nothing dangerous inhabiting Mould-on-the-Wold."

"I might have said that," Aberforth said, "but I think our little chat has proven that I do not have the most reliable memory."

…~oOo~…

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~