A/N: Thank you for your patience; I have every intention of finishing this story, even if it is taking me a bit long.
Enough of me - here's chapter ten!
Chapter Ten
0o0
"Morning, Norrie. Want some bacon?"
Ron looked up from his pumpkin juice to see Millicent Bulstrode reaching across the table to offer a piece of bacon to the cat seated beside him. For her part, Mrs. Norris put a foot on the table to reach forward and accept the offering.
"Fitz likes bacon, too," the girl continued conversationally, putting a pancake and some fruit onto her plate. "And toast. I'll have to take some back for him."
"Do you have to sit here?" Ron asked. "Why can't you sit at the Hufflepuff table?"
"Because Laura-Belle Gant is way too cheerful," Millicent replied, pouring syrup on her pancake. "It's creepy. And annoying – she thinks we're best friends now or something."
"Ravenclaw, then."
The Slytherin shook her head, swallowing a bite so she could talk. "The upper-years think me getting kicked outta my House for defending a Gryff is so interesting. Apparently, I lack Slytherin self-preservation and cunning," she gestured with her fork as she spoke, "made me feel like some weird Potions ingredient they were studying."
Ron let out a laugh before he fully realized that what she'd said had struck him as funny. Millicent narrowed her eyes at him in response, turning back to her breakfast with a soft harrumph. The redhead regarded her solemnly for a moment.
"Can I ask you something?"
The girl looked up, curiosity written plainly across her features.
"That day... why did you say all that stuff?" he asked.
Millicent frowned, poking thoughtfully at her food with her fork. "Because it was true," she stated. "And because what they were saying really made me mad."
A lump had formed in Ron's throat and already his heart had set to throbbing again, but he still didn't get it. He still didn't understand why she had spoken up when he could scarcely remember her speaking at all before that. Swallowing hard, he asked again, "But, why?"
"Because it was wrong," Millicent asserted, meeting his gaze. "Because what happened was wrong. It was terrible and it's not for people to gossip about or make fun of. It's... That they can be pleased about something so horrible... It makes them the worst people in the world." She looked down at her plate, no longer having any appetite. Dropping the fork she still held in her hand, she reached for her juice, instead.
Ron stared at her. On the one hand, he felt that what she'd said made perfect sense, but on the other, he felt he was still missing something and he was more perplexed by this strange girl than ever. Just who was she? She certainly wasn't the speechless Slytherin lingering in the background, present, but keeping to herself.
"Why do you keep talking to me?" he voiced aloud. "What do you want?"
"I want to be your friend," Millicent answered simply. "Can't I?"
Before he could respond one way or the other, someone sat down beside him. He turned his head to see that it was Harry.
"Hey, Ron," the other boy greeted, then glanced across the table. "Bulstrode." He offered a tight smile.
"Potter," she returned.
"Hi, Harry," Ron said quietly.
"'Mione insisted that I ask if you were going to Hogsmeade," Harry told him. "I was hoping you'd come with us, too."
The redhead fidgeted with his silverware. "Maybe next time. I..." he drew in a bracing breath so he could look at the friend whose face still made his loss feel so raw. "Bulstrode already asked me to go with her. Told her I might." Harry's brows rose slightly in surprise and he shot another glance at the girl seated across from them. He gave another smile, less forced this time.
"Maybe, we'll see you there, then," he said. Ron nodded and pulled his gaze away again. A new record; he'd almost faced the other boy for two minutes this time.
Harry rose to his feet, briefly resting a hand on Ron's shoulder before leaving to join Hermione, who was waiting at the end of the table. The girl was clearly disappointed that Ron didn't come with him.
Unseen by Ron, who was still playing with his butter knife, Millicent wrinkled her nose in distaste. "It's Millie," she said. "Or Millicent. I don't really care which."
"Huh?" Ron looked up at her.
"You want me to call you Weasley?"
Ron flinched and shook his head.
"Didn't think so. I'll call you Ron and you call me Millie," she bartered. "I hate my last name."
"Fine," the boy agreed.
"Are we going to Hogsmeade?" Millie wanted to know. "Or was that just an excuse to make Potter go away?"
The redhead pushed his plate away with a sigh. "I need some more ink and parchment," he said in answer.
"I need to go back to my room first," said the girl, rising from her seat.
"Me, too," stated Ron.
"Might as well go together, then."
"Yeah. Alright."
Millicent grinned at him as they walked along.
"What?" Ron finally asked her.
"I'm gonna be a good friend for you, Ron," she declared.
The boy gave a skeptical huff. "Whatever," he murmured. Nonetheless, he didn't wholly disagree.
0o0o0
Things had been going well, or at least, they hadn't been going poorly. Ron had agreed to go to Hogsmeade and so they had went.
The reason she was so persistent in befriending the boy was simple, really: she was frightened for him. She had watched from afar as he drew more and more into himself, the fear building up within her until it burst and she was stepping out from her carefully hoarded anonymity for a boy she knew only by name.
She had been little more than a fixture, present but in the background, to the point that even her own House scarcely noted her existence. Unnoticed, she'd been largely unridiculed, and apart for the one friend she did keep, no one bothered about her. Now, she had probably lost that friend. Whispers followed her down the corridors, fellow students and housemates insulted her to her face and behind her back in equal measure, and the whole school knew her: Millicent Bulstrode, the girl who openly reviled You-Know-Who's loyal for the sake of an orphaned blood traitor.
It would be worth it, though. So long as she somehow kept Ron Weasley from withdrawing from the world entirely – kept him moving, one step in front of the other. What she feared most for him, after all, was that he might stop completely, and that was a thought she just couldn't bear.
Things had been going well... until Ron had seen that stupid joke shop. He had stared at it in anguish, clutching at his heart as though he might reach it through his chest. And then, choking back a sob, he fled.
"Ron!" Millicent had shouted after him, but to no avail. She pulled a hand through her hair. "Damn it, Millie. You bloody moron." Slumping slightly, she sighed. "Damn it."
"Bloody moron is right," a voice spoke up from behind her. "Wandering around Hogsmeade alone – are you out of your mind?"
She turned to face one of her housemates, who stood with his arms folded across his chest. He was nearly a head taller than she was, his build lean and wiry. Pale brown hair fell into eyes the same color and a frown pulled the corners of his lips downwards.
"I wasn't alone," Millie said.
Nott snorted. "Like wandering around with Weasley's any better." He shook his head. "Seriously, Millie. You shouldn't be here."
"Maybe you're right," she stated.
"I'm always right. It's safer for you at school."
"I nearly got murdered in Potions," she reminded him dryly.
"A brainless bint pulling a stupid prank," he gritted out. "She'll pay for that."
She sighed. "Why do you even care?"
The boy gave her a pointed glare, refusing to dignify the question with a response.
"Teddy -"
"Don't," he intoned.
"But I am sorry," said the girl.
Theo abruptly closed the distance between them. "You know how I feel about my father!" he hissed. "And you still lumped me together with the rest of them."
"I do know, I just... I just started talking and you were there and – I didn't mean it. I know you're not like them. I'm really sorry."
"Well, I'm not ready to let it go," he snapped.
Millicent hung her head.
With a sigh, the boy took her by the shoulders and turned her around. "Go back to Hogwarts. And be quick about it. I've still got things I need to get."
"What does that have to do with anything?" she demanded.
"I'm gonna follow you back, of course," he stated, matter-of-fact. "Go."
They moved along, Theo walking about a meter behind Millie. It wasn't until they were on the road between the small town and the school that either of them spoke.
"Apologize again, Mills," he told her. "Later. Next time, I'll forgive you."
She nodded without looking back or slowing her pace. "I will."
Theo regarded her solemnly for a moment. "He's not him, you know."
Millicent's eyes fluttered briefly shut and she drew in a sharp breath. "I know," she murmured quietly.
0o0o0
Ron collapsed on the grand staircase, gasping for air. With one hand he clutched at the front of his shirt, his heart aching and lungs burning. Zonko's. Fred and George had loved that shop. They had spent days – weeks – at a time plotting and experimenting, planning to own a shop of their own just like it.
Their shop would never exist, now.
He pressed his forehead to the cool stone, too hot in the shirt now half-soaked with sweat from his run all the way back from Hogsmeade. It was long-sleeved, which had been fine before his run. The day was a bit chill and the sleeves had hidden the cut he had sliced into his arm the night before. He gripped that arm with his opposite hand, causing the injury to hurt anew. As soon as he caught his breath, he would-
"Back so early?"
Ron started at the voice, pulling his face away from the step to look up at the person addressing him. Snape gazed placidly back, expression completely neutral. The man raised an eyebrow when he failed to respond.
"Yes, sir," said Ron, still a bit short of breath.
"I see."
The Potions Master continued to regard him silently and not knowing whether he should respond, Ron finally nodded his head.
"If you find you have forgotten anything required for your classes, do inform either myself or one of your other professors and we will make certain you are appropriately supplied," his professor told him. He continued down the remaining steps and started across the entrance hall.
"Thank you, sir," Ron spoke up.
Snape stopped to turn and look back at him. "You are welcome." He paused a moment before adding, "I will be brewing potions for the infirmary. You may lend me a hand, if you so desire. I will be in the lab where we worked before." Without waiting for a response, he left, footsteps echoing quietly behind him.
Ron lowered his head back to the stair. "I'd have to be out of my bloody mind," he muttered. Nevertheless, it was but a few minutes later that he pushed himself to his feet and wended his way down to the dungeons.
0o0o0
'Stir three times, clockwise, then let simmer for ten minutes,' read the spiky handwriting on the parchment. Ron did so and set the stirring rod aside.
"Be sure to set a timer," Snape suddenly spoke. The teen glanced over at him, but the man's attention still seemed to be focused on the potions he was working on himself.
"Yes, sir," answered Ron.
No sooner had he done that, than the professor waved towards a cauldron that had been sitting since before he'd entered the lab. "The Dreamless Sleep needs to be decanted into single dose vials. See that you measure out two half-doses."
The redhead nodded even though the man still hadn't looked up from what he was doing. Apart from the occasional direction, they had been working quietly for the past half an hour. Ron decided that he preferred the Potions Master in his lab to the one that stalked about the classroom. Like the last time Snape had put him to work assisting him, the teen found himself absorbed by his task, leaving him less time to think about memories of the past. Already, Snape's lab felt a bit like a haven. The brewing of potions did not call to mind any of those he had lost.
"Professor?"
"Yes?" inquired Snape.
"What are the half-doses for?" Ron asked. "I mean, there's only two of them. Shouldn't there be more?"
The man paused, hand over a cauldron. He glanced up at the boy before sprinkling the pinch of herbs into the brew. "Madame Pomfrey has never requested that I apportion out any of her stock in such a way," he stated. "She prefers to do so herself, when necessary. One of the half-doses is for my medicine cabinet. The other will go to the hospital wing with the rest."
"Why don't you keep a full dose and only take half when you need it?" the teen wanted to know.
"Because I have no reason to keep a full dose in my quarters," Snape lied.
Ron quietly poured the potion into vials for a moment. "Can I have the other half-dose?"
Black eyes focused on the top of the boy's head, which remained bent over his task. "You've been having nightmares."
"Just a few," lied Ron. No way was he admitting that he had them nearly every night. They'd probably try to make him talk to that counselor again – it had taken almost the whole summer before the man finally said there was nothing he could do as long as Ron refused to say anything to him.
"Very well," the man said, having guessed the truth. "You may take it back to your room in case you have need of it."
"Thank you, sir." The timer went off, and Ron finished the Pepper Up potion he'd been working on. After he had set it aside to cool, Snape pointed across the room.
"Dried daisy roots," he said. "Middle shelf, third from the left."
With a nod, Ron moved to retrieve it.
0o0
To be continued...