Penname: Page of Cups
Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com
Title: Everything Changes
Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy
Rating: R
Summary: Draco is under pressure, and Ron is out of his mind
Disclaimer: This story contains characters, locations, and other random things created and/or owned by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic, Inc., etc. Since no money is being made, no infringement is intended. Section 102(b) of the U.S. Copyright Act states that copyright protection does not extend to ideas, procedures, concepts, principles or discoveries, but the actual words used to express those things. I know. I'm researching my copyright abilities.
Chapter Fifteen: Mistakes
There was no other word to describe the weeks that followed than subdued. While Hogwarts bustled with busy life around them, a sort of frenzy brought on by mid-winter blues, Draco's life had become a constant spiral from which he could not be delivered. No one else had been told of what transpired in the Head Boy room that night, and though Ron pretended not to be affected by it, Draco could see the difference in everything he did.
Sometimes, Draco thought that something about Ron just smelled different than it had before. His poise was all wrong, his gesticulations faulted, and if Draco wasn't one hundred percent sure that this was his Ron, he would have thought someone was pulling a Moody on him. Down to the way that Ron flipped his hair out of his eyes, he was affected. Draco felt so responsible for tarnishing him, but hadn't that been his purpose in the first place. Things had come so far, Draco wasn't sure what his reasoning had ever been, nor was he sure if it made sense at all.
Ron was nervous. Draco couldn't deny that, no matter how many assorted explanations he would try to come up with for his strange behavior. There could no longer be comfortable silence between them; Ron was forever filling it with idle prattle. Lying in each other's arms could no longer bring them peace simply through the action. Something else now needed to go along with it. Hell, Draco couldn't even bask in Ron's company anymore without feeling the tensions being strung high and mighty.
Who could really blame Ron? If their positions were reversed, Draco would be a complete mess, which Ron would have to clean up. Shortly after the confession, Draco had promised Ron that he wouldn't take the Dark Mark, rather reluctantly. He couldn't stand the thought of Ron being hurt, but he couldn't stand the thought of Ron hurting because he was too afraid to take a risk even more. What could be done about his father, however, Draco didn't know. He felt like he was placed very strategically in a game of chess. Too bad he never really got a fancy for the game.
When Draco woke up on the dreary morning of February twenty-eighth, his father was the first thing to come into his mind. His mind was in the hazy place between dreams and reality. Reeling off the residue of a particularly horrifying scene in which the Dark Mark was burned deeply into his arm, Draco pulled up his sleeve to take a look. The skin was pale, clean, and unmarred. It would be this way tomorrow morning as well (upon Ron's request), but his father would be furious about it. With the distinct impression that he was under the closest scrutiny he could ever experience, Draco got out of bed, and dressed for the day.
After a quick stop into Snape's classroom, Draco headed for the staircase leading out of the dungeons. It was a trip going from the prefects corridors to the dungeons and back to the Great Hall without too much notice, but Draco did fairly well. Running into Crabbe on his way into the hall, he joined up with him and Goyle, and the three headed for the Slytherin table. Apparently, now that they were less than twenty-four hours away from their marks, Crabbe could be seen with them again. It must have seemed very strange to the Hogwarts faculty.
Today was a Saturday, and so after breakfast, Draco hurried back to the Head Boy room. Ron was instructed by note (cleverly tucked into the waistband of his school trousers during yesterday's Potions lesson) to meet him there after breakfast. Draco had birthday plans to discuss, and wanted the pleasure of Ron's company for the last time when they could be relaxed about things.
Walking into his room, Draco was pleased to see that Ron had left himself in. He had made Draco's bed, and was sprawled across it, drawing things like toads and owls on a spare piece of parchment. Draco removed his shoes, set them at the end of the bed, and snatched the parchment away. Grabbing Ron's arm, he stretched out beside him, and let Ron's arm fall to his chest.
"Well?" asked Ron. "Was there something you wanted?"
"Yeah," said Draco, reaching over to the table beside his bed. Ron grabbed his forearm, rolled up his sleeve, and started to doodle on Draco's arm in ink that looked purple. Deciding to ignore it, he sifted through the drawer. "Got something for your birthday."
"Don't tell me you got sex toys."
"Not exactly. What do you think of bondage?"
"What? You're going to tie me up?"
"Perhaps. Unless you want to tie me up."
"I can get into that. What did you get?"
Draco grinned, then tossed a pile of material at Ron. He couldn't help but laugh, sifting through the small pile of Gryffindor and Slytherin ties.
"You're going to tie me up with the school uniform?"
"It was an idea," said Draco.
"Once again, I can get into that. I do hope you go me a proper present."
"Of course I did."
Draco reached in his pocket, and produced a small vile of crimson liquid.
"And that is . . ."
"Weasley, I'm appalled. I would think that you would recognize a vial of Rapports Excite potion when you saw it."
"A vial of what?"
"Honestly, Weasley, don't you pay attention in Potions?"
"Not really," said Ron, snickering.
"Then allow me to elaborate. Do the words November and aphrodisiac mean anything to you?"
"Yeah. You were my partner and tried to seduce me. Did a wicked good job of it, too."
"That is what this potion is. It's the aphrodisiac we made in class. I thought we should test it and let Snape know how well it works."
"Happy Birthday to me."
"What are you doing, Weasley?"
Ron arched an eyebrow, dipped the quill into the inkwell, and went back to doodling.
"Something."
"Something like what? I'm not going to be walking around with a penis on my arm, am I?"
"Better."
"Where did you get purple ink?"
"It's Hermione's. She leant it to me to underline things for our upcoming Charms exam. Seems to think I spend too much time shagging, and not enough time studying. I told her that shagging you is more important than studying, but she just doesn't understand. I think someone needs to get her a boyfriend."
Draco snickered.
"So what are you doing today?" asked Ron.
"Don't know. Nothing. Locking myself in my room so that my father can't suddenly burst in here and kill me during my sleep. Something like that. By the way, you need to come around midnight. I want to bring in your birthday the best way possible."
"With a hand job and an orgasm?"
"Precisely. Weasley, I think I've corrupted you."
"Mmm," said Ron, nodding. His lips twitched into a smirk, and he returned the quill to the inkwell. On Draco's arm was a rough sketch of the dark mark, done in a vibrant purple, with a furry rabbit replacing the customary snake. The skull also had bright, curly hair.
"Making a mockery of Voldemort?"
"Well today is the day you get your Mark. I thought I'd do it for you."
"Voldemort would kill you if he saw that."
"Voldemort would kill me because I continue to suck oxygen. I really couldn't care less."
"When did you get so bold?"
"I'm not a Gryffindor for nothing. Besides, ever since Ginny . . . it really is a silly looking mark, don't you think? I think the purple hair gives it a little something extra."
"It's gorgeous, but I worry for you mental health. Perhaps you should seek therapy."
"Perhaps. After tonight. I want my birthday present, my hand job, and my orgasm."
"Getting to be a greedy little bastard, aren't you?"
"It's all your fault. You spoil me terribly."
"You only think I spoil you because your own toothbrush looks like a goldmine."
Ron gave Draco a cheeky sort of grin, and rolled out of bed. "I have to go back to Gryffindor. I told Harry and Hermione that you want to celebrate tomorrow, so we're having my celebration today. They said they won't give me my gifts until tomorrow, but I'm sure I can squeeze something out of them. I can be very persuasive."
"I'm well aware. Don't forget to come see me tonight."
"I won't."
Ron leaned over Draco's body, wrapped his fingers around Draco's left hip, and planted a kiss on his neck. Smirking a coy little smile that made Draco squirm, Ron left the room. When did Weasley get so daring and so irresistible? Draco barely had time to ponder when a voice interrupted his thoughts. He felt like he was going to vomit.
"That was a disgusting display."
Crabbe was leaning against the jamb of the bathroom doorway, his arms folded across his chest. Dark brown eyes were trained on Draco's, and though he tried to look away, he remained focused. Sitting up, Draco tried to regain at least a little composure, but his attempts were failing at a wild pace.
"How did you get in here?"
"You aren't exactly secretive about your passwords."
"Why are you here?"
"Came for a visit. I was just washing up when I heard Weasley come in, and then you joined him. I thought you'd be upset, seeing Weasley in your room. Especially when you only want to bugger him because he'd be a great lay, and ruining his innocence is so appealing. I don't know about you, but Weasley didn't come off as being too terribly innocent to me."
"I'm just using him."
"Let us hope so. I can't imagine what your father would say if there was something more. Celebrating his birthday tonight, are you? Haven't you forgotten something?"
Crabbe's eyes fell, lingering on the bright purple satire of the Dark Mark. Draco tugged his sleeve down, holding his breath as the material cascaded down his arm, breaching on his wrist. Smirking, Draco shrugged.
"I'm standing him up. Poor Weasel will be terribly disappointed when I'm not here. Thought I'd break it off to him in a letter. No use hearing him wail like a little bitch about how I've done him wrong. Granted, who would want to deal with emotions like that? Don't worry about me. I'll be there. I haven't forgotten about a thing."
"Funny, because I could have swore that Weasley seemed to know about tonight."
"Curious. You must have been hearing things. Perhaps you should go see Madam Pomfrey."
"Perhaps I'm not the only one."
Crabbe sneered at him before turning, and stalking out of the Head Boy room. Sinking to the bed, Draco allowed his head to drop into his open palms. His father was bound to know now, if he hadn't known before, and Draco could start ticking off the hours he had left to live. There were few options left, but either way, he had to keep his father away from Ron.
Discarding his cloak, Draco walked into the bathroom and began to scrub at his forearm. The ink came off with ease, and lavender water sprinkled against the marble. His arm was rubbed raw, bright red, and on the brink of bleeding once Draco got the last of the ink stains off his pale skin. Without bothering to check his hair in the mirror, Draco left his room, and hurried down the prefects corridor.
Later, when reflecting, Draco still wouldn't be able to pin what went through his mind. One second there was a thought, clearer than anything had ever been, and then it was gone. Even if fragments did come back (which they did occasionally), he still would never understand it as clearly as he did that second. Because of this, he was never able to justify his actions to himself, much less anyone else, and he would never understand why anyone forgave him for that moment in time.
Less than an hour later, Crabbe and Goyle entered the Slytherin common room. On Saturday afternoons during the winter, the common room was usually full, but it was a Hogsmeade weekend, and most of the third, forth, and fifth years had gone to the village. For the sixth and seventh years, the novelty was starting to wear off, and they had library assignments. First and second years were still fascinated with the school, and did not like being holed up in the common room too long. They were out playing in the snow.
Accordingly, Crabbe and Goyle expected an empty common room. What they found was Draco Malfoy, laying spent oven an unfamiliar Gryffindor sixth year. His dark blond hair was plastered to his forehead, and he was still trying to catch his breath and dress. Draco was already clothed, fixing his hair to its usual level of perfection. He barely glanced at Crabbe and Goyle as they entered, each wearing a surprised expression of different demeanor and severity.
"I guess I was wrong about you," said Crabbe, smirking at the flustered boy. He was hurrying even faster now, and Draco feared that he was going to hurt himself if he didn't slow down, not that Draco cared.
"I told you I was only using him. Just like I was only using him." Draco jabbed his thumb at the boy, who looked blankly back. "Oh come now. You didn't think I was going to invite you back for a second round, did you? Honestly -- Gryffindors."
"Don't I know it," said Crabbe, "but they're so much easier than Hufflepuffs. They're so loyal and that rot. They just need that commitment before they'll hop into bed. Gryffindors will sell out their bodies to almost anyone, but they always want something in return."
"I don't want anything," said the boy. "I just didn't expect you to be so blunt. Everyone knows how you are."
He readjusted his tie, tossed his hair out of his eyes in a smooth way that Ron lacked, and headed for the exit. Glaring at Crabbe first, then Goyle, he walked out. Unlike Ron, he didn't storm, and never once seemed to lose his pride. Draco was suitably impressed, but his insides were screaming at him. His head felt heavy, foggy, and he wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the boy. He wanted Ron's taste lingering in his mouth. He wanted Ron's voice still vibrating in his mind. He wanted to be cleaned of the other boy, and repossessed by Ron.
Crabbe didn't say anything more as he passed Draco, a malicious smile plastered on his face. There was no doubt in his mind that Crabbe had known just how much Ron meant to Draco, even if Draco was still unsure. He probably couldn't wait until supper, when he could charge over to Ron and tell him what Draco had done. It would be a public thing, and Draco wished that Crabbe would have the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
"What the fuck did you do?" snapped Goyle. Draco refused to meet his eyes.
"What are you talking about?"
"You - Brandon Corey?"
"Who?"
"The guy you just fucked!"
"Oh, him. Is that his name?"
"Draco!"
"Is that a yes?"
Goyle didn't answer, and when Draco looked up, he wished he hadn't. He had never seen Goyle's eyes so cold before, boring into his own. He had never seen so much disgust in a single glance. If he hadn't felt dirty before, he certainly felt filthy now. All he could think about through the entire charade was Ron.
"How could you do that to him? To yourself? What was that supposed to accomplish? Congratulations, Crabbe's got leverage over you. You should be very happy. Your father is going to know how much you fear him and even more how much Weasley means to you."
"Just shut up, okay? I don't know - something just came over me. He was in my room this morning."
"Crabbe or Weasley?"
"Both, now that you mention it. Crabbe was there - heard me and Ron . . . I was scared that he'd go to my father because of tonight. I didn't want Ron to be hurt."
"So you fucked another guy. Good idea, Draco. That won't hurt Ron at all. I'm sure he'll be right chipper to find that out."
"You aren't going to tell him, are you?"
"No, because I know what Weasley means to you, and I know what you mean to him. Weasley adores you, Draco. Now that I've witnessed this, I can't imagine why. You better pray to the gods who will listen to your sorry excuses that he never finds out. For your sake, I hope you're properly ashamed."
Draco wasn't given a chance to respond, because Goyle brushed by him, and then he was alone.
~*~
Ron, Harry, and Hermione were sitting around a table in the Gryffindor common room when Brandon Corey entered, sweaty and reeking of sex. They had just returned from a visit to Hagrid, and were drying their clothes out by the fire rather than using spells at Ron's request. He claimed it was like being a kid again. Since returning, they had changed into dry, warmer attire, and Ron was in the middle of annoying Harry about his birthday gift when Brandon came in through the portrait hole looking thoroughly peeved off.
"Hi, Brandon," said Hermione. She had taken to making friends with him several years ago when Ginny was still alive, because he had been a friend of Ron's sister. He gave her a scathing glare, seemed to feel guilty for doing so, then apologized.
"Sorry, didn't mean to be rude to you. Just a little upset is all."
"Why?" she asked, looking over his disheveled appearance. "You look like you were pretty happy. Unless . . . were you in a fight?"
"No," he snapped. "I had sex."
"That was my first impression."
"Yeah, well, I was just ever so kindly told that I was just being used. Did you know that Gryffindors will sell their bodies out to whoever will take them, but they always expect something in return?"
"Sounds like the Malfoy of old," said Harry, directing his gaze at Ron.
"You heard that fucking rumor about Malfoy calming down, too? Well, don't fucking listen to it. I just spent that last twenty minute being fucked by him, and then as soon as his Slytherin friends show up, I was chucked out. I can assure you, it's the Malfoy of the present. I can't believe I was actually naive enough to think that Malfoy would stop using people. Once a heartless bastard, always a heartless bastard."
Brandon continued to rant, not seeming to realize that Ron had gone deathly pale beneath his freckles. Hermione and Harry had grown silent, each one sneaking glances at Ron from the corners of their eyes.
"You do mean Draco Malfoy, right?" asked Harry.
"Of course I mean Draco Malfoy. How many of those Malfoy fuckers do you think go to this school? Only one bastard who fucks whatever will let his penis in as far as I know."
From the colorless shade his skin had been, which emphasized his freckles and freakishly displayed his veins, Ron turned a bright shade of pink. This clashed horribly with his hair and freckles, making him look like a very large strawberry. From pink came red, and Harry knew from past experiences with his angry Uncle Vernon that a deep purple was going to come next. Ron never got past the radish stage, however, because as soon as his freckles started to blend into his face, he stormed toward the portrait hole. Brandon watched, his jaw slack.
"What did I say?" he asked.
"It's complicated," said Hermione, quickly.
"Is he going to be okay? I don't want to piss him off, too."
"I honestly don't know, Brandon. Listen, I'll talk to you later, okay? I want to go after Ron."
Brandon nodded, and Hermione went after the portrait hole. Harry was already chasing Ron down the hall, but was unable to stop his rampage. When Hermione caught up, she was more trouble than help, as her constant habit of getting in his way was infuriating Ron. They followed him down staircase after staircase, and when they got to the prefects corridor, were completely baffled. Marching right up to an unmarked door, Ron hissed something indistinguishable at it, and they could hear a clicking sound. Ripping the door open, Ron didn't even bother to close it when he stomped inside.
Harry and Hermione hung in the doorway. Inside, they could see that Ron had led them straight to the Head Boy room. Draco and Goyle were shouting about something when Ron walked in, and Harry shivered when Goyle gave Ron a sympathetic look.
Staring Draco straight in the eye, calmer than he had been since first leaving Gryffindor, Ron said, "I hate you."
"Ron -"
"Don't say my name. I don't want you to filthy that up, too."
"You don't understand."
"What don't I understand? I think that my boyfriend fucked around on me behind my back. I think he shagged someone else the day before my birthday. What do you think?"
"It seems like that, Ron -"
"Weasley. Don't call me Ron. If you're going to call me something, use my surname." Draco's eyelids fluttered shut, and he breathed a deep sigh. "Lift up your head, Malfoy, and look me in the eye. You don't warrant the right to feel sorry for yourself. The only person who anyone should feel pity for is me. Then again, maybe we should pity you. You just lost the best thing you ever could have asked for."
"I know," Draco whispered. "Listen, Ron - Weasley - you don't understand. My father -"
"I don't care about your father. I don't care what your father would do to me. All I care about is what you did, and that hurts."
"How did you find out?"
"Straight from the mouth of the object of your infidelity. Imagine my surprise when I was celebrating my birthday early with my friends because I reserved tomorrow for you, and I got a gift early. The truth."
"You weren't supposed to find out that way."
"And that's why you shagged a Gryffindor."
"I didn't know he was a Gryffindor. I - he was the first person I came across."
"Yeah, Draco, that really justifies what you did. Congratulations on having the worst excuse for cheating ever. I really hope you enjoy a life of solitude and endless strings of one night stands, because that's all you're ever going to have. I guess Anthony fucked you up a lot more than any of us could have guessed, but that doesn't excuse anything. I should have listened to Harry."
"Ron -" said Draco, stilling. He had no words to say, and he couldn't bear having Ron look at him like that. The only words that could come to his mind would be, "I'm sorry," but they felt very trite, and not nearly enough. He said them anyway.
"That may be true, but . . . I can't trust you, and I can't even look at you right now without being angry and disgusted. I fucking hate you for doing this to me." Ron rubbed at his forehead with his thumb and index fingers. "Why - I thought - "
"I was trying to preserve us," said Draco, miserably. "Crabbe knew. He was in my room this morning. He heard us. He was going to report to my father. I had to show him that you didn't mean anything to me. It was the only way . . ."
"You could have told me!"
"I - I'm an idiot, Ron. I know."
Ron shook his head, choking on a sob, and turned to leave. This was a scene Draco felt he witnessed far too much, Ron walking out on him, and Draco stopping him with a plea. Nothing was going to stop him this time, but it didn't stop the attempt that flew out of Draco's mouth.
"I love you."
Stopping where he stood, Ron locked eyes with Harry first, then Hermione, who were still standing in the doorway. Without bothering to turn around, perhaps because he would falter if he did, Ron shook his head slowly. The copper fringe of his hair fell into his eyes, but this time, he didn't try to brush it away.
"No, you don't."
With that, he was gone.
Harry and Hermione watched after Ron, and Hermione was the one who hurried after him. Goyle was still staring at Draco, a similarly expression on his face to what he previously wore, leading Harry to believe that this profession was not something new to him. Probably plotted ways of getting Ron back into Malfoy's bed together. Scowling, Harry had the urge to walk right up to Malfoy and punch him in the face, but Malfoy acted first. He took off toward the door, his pale face flushed, his grey eyes bloodshot.
"Draco," said Goyle, "know when to go after a person, and when not to. If you ever want to get Weasley back, you've got to give him time to cool off."
"But - he - "
"Listen to your friend, Malfoy," said Harry, tersely. "And you can forget about ever getting Ron back. You've never deserved someone as wonderful as him, and he's never deserved someone as repulsive as you. How dare you tell him you love him after what you did? If you loved him, you never would have done it."
"I did it because I love him," said Draco. His eyes were flashing dangerously, but Harry didn't seem to notice.
"Keep telling yourself that, Draco. Maybe one day, you'll be delusional enough to believe it, but Ron has friends who look out for him. You can count on the fact that we won't let him be so easily manipulated. I let him make the mistake of being with you, but a good friend doesn't let someone make the same mistake twice. If Ron wants to talk to you again, I won't stop him, but you can be sure that I won't be letting him get back to being your bitch."
"He wasn't - oh, why the fuck am I telling you, anyway? Like you could understand."
Harry glared at Draco, wanting to pursue the topic further, but Ron and Hermione were disappearing from view. Following on his earlier instinct and punching Malfoy in the nose, Harry left the Head Boy room, and hurried to catch up with his friends. Hermione had her arm wrapped around Ron's waist, and from the sobbing he could hear, Harry deduced that Ron was crying. Only twice before had Harry seen Ron cry, and every time it was strangely unsettling. It wasn't a sight Harry liked to see, and he kept somewhat of a distance from Ron's side as he joined them.
~*~
After visiting the hospital wing for his nose, Draco wandered down the Hogwarts corridors. Just this morning, he had been walking these same halls with Ron waiting for him in the Head Boy room. Now, Ron wanted nothing to do with him. Draco didn't know how he could have fouled up so badly when all he ever had were the best intentions. At least his intentions were of a good nature recently, unlike the way they had been in the beginning, but he hadn't wanted to lose Ron then, either.
Ron. Draco needed to see him, to explain his thought process as best he could from beginning to end. He needed to hear that there was a possibility that Ron could one day forgive him, even if that day was decades into the future. He wanted Ron to know that he did love him, and that it could be the one thing he shouldn't doubt. If he had a time turner, he'd go back in time and stop himself before it could happen, no matter what the possible repercussions could be. Anything had to be better than this. A part of him hoped that his father would come and kill him when discovering that Draco was refusing the mark. Death was better than a life without Ron.
After wandering the halls for what seemed like ages, and then the Hogwarts grounds, he headed for Gryffindor tower. He was never going to sleep without talking to Ron, and if he knew the other boy, there was no way that he was going to sleep, either. The walk to the seventh floor was longer than Draco ever remembered it being, and he was greeted by a very frumpy and unsettled fat lady. She must have heard what happened, because she was very rude to him, and refused to let him in. When he asked for Ron, she told him that he wasn't there. The next thing Draco did was probably very stupid in retrospect, but it was the only thing he could think of. He asked for Harry.
The portrait hole opened moments later, and Harry yanked him inside. From a corner of the room, Draco could see the same boy sitting in the corner, staring at him with accusation and vengeance. Draco felt as if a knife had been twisted into his stomach.
"What do you want, Malfoy? Come to harass some more of Gryffindor?"
"I didn't harass anyone."
From the corner, the boy scoffed.
"You've got some nerve coming here," said the boy. "What do you want?"
"Nothing from you," said Draco, sneering. "Listen, Potter, I need to talk to him. Where is he?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. He snapped at me and Hermione before taking off some time before dinner. I haven't seen him since."
"It's getting kind of late, don't you think?"
"Maybe he found a new warm body to occupy his time."
"Ron isn't like that."
"He's not the type to go with you, either."
"Point received. Really, Potter, where is he? I need to talk to him. I've been walking all around this school, and I haven't seen him anywhere."
"It's a big school, Malfoy."
"Potter, aren't you worried about him? He's upset, and he's alone. Who knows what he'll do?"
Harry hesitated, the nodded. "I'll be right back."
Draco felt every eye in the common room land on him, especially those of the boy and his friends.
"Who are you looking for?" the boy finally asked.
"Ron Weasley."
"Why?"
"Because I need to talk to him."
"About?"
Draco sighed. "You."
"Why?"
"Bloody hell, you ask a lot of questions."
"Why are you looking for Ron? What is there to talk about? We shagged, you threw me away. Just like everyone else."
"Not like everyone else," snapped Draco. "Not Ron."
"Did you shag him, too?"
"He's my boyfriend."
Brandon grew silent, then snickered.
"For how long? Two weeks, then you cheat on him?"
"For your information, it's three and a half months, and it's none of your business why I cheated on him."
"I'm the one you shagged. I think it is my business."
"No, it's not. It's between Ron and me."
Footsteps approached, and Harry walked back into the common room with a piece of old parchment in his hands. He shoved it in his pocket, and glanced over to Brandon.
"Did I miss something?"
"We were just talking," said Brandon. "Hey, Harry, when you find Ron, tell him I'm sorry. I never would have done what I did if I'd have known there was something going between him and Malfoy."
"I'm sure he's not angry with you," said Harry. Tugging on Draco's sleeve, he guided him to the portrait hole. They climbed out into the corridor, and Harry turned to face Draco. His face was ashen, and he kept fumbling with the parchment in his pocket.
"Well? Should we start looking?"
"It's no use," said Harry. "He's not on Hogwarts grounds."
"What?"
"I said he's not on Hogwarts grounds. We've got to go to Dumbledore. Ron's in trouble."
I'd like to thank everyone who is reading this. I'm sorry I don't respond to individual reviews, but it takes a lot of time. If you want an individual response, I've put my E-mail at the top.
Let me know if you find any good new Ron/Draco. Keep reading.
~Erin