***
I'm expecting this to finish off the plot. Maybe an epilogue if the demands are great enough and if the situation calls for it. We're back in the mind of Draco, now, and the end draws near.
Ah, and while I'm thinking about it, as usual, Ron's casual spelling is intentional. Like I need to tell you.
***
The message was brought to me by a tiny little puff of an owl. I had not expected Ron to come to meet with me tonight; he really did need the sleep, and I was not going to be a dictator about all of this.
The little dear upturned his heart on me tonight. He's so precious, the way he worries about what will happen next. He shouldn't; I won't hurt him physically or mentally. Abuse is so underrated these days; I've lived to see it and won't put anyone else through it, Ron especially.
It is a bit difficult to simply push Harry aside, but for Ron, I will try my hardest. He's too marvelous to ruin like that.
I sent Pigwidgeon back to the Gryffendor tower once I had untied the hasty letter from his tiny claw and fed him my last bit of candy from the most recent trip to Hogsmeade, then settled into my bed to read it in peace. The great louts in my dormitory were snoring and whatnot, so I took refuge in a shadowed corner of the common room.
Can't come tonite - tomorrow morning sounds lovely, how's ten in the alcove behind Prof. Flitwick's office?
Ron
I smiled; his ideas are always the best. I collected my things from the common room and towed them all into the dormitory, then slipped into bed, though I was not tired in the least.
Earlier this evening I had learned from Hermione in a long owl sent to me after returning to the Slytherin common room that Professor McGonagall had arrived just after we had left the scene. Ginny had done a marvelous job flirting with the prefects, because they hadn't breathed a word to old McGonagall. Suspicious, however, she had searched the dormitories, demanded to know where Ron was after hours; Hermione, for once in her life, lied to a professor and told her that Ron had gone to visit Hagrid for advice on his Care of Magical Creatures lesson.
She must have bought it, because Hagrid wasn't bothered and she had no more questions for them.
Snape had raised an eyebrow when I arrived back well after midnight, but said nothing; he understood that I would tell him at a later point if it was really important. My father has been paying him off for years to see that I get in as little trouble as possible with the school. So far it's been working - though Snape truly is a fast friend despite the twenty years' difference between us.
Eventually, thoughts of the evening melted into thoughts of Ron, and sometime within the early morning hours, I fell asleep.
***
At ten o'clock the next morning, I was waiting in the Flitwick alcove with a picnic basket hovering at my side. I had gone to the kitchens at sunrise to collect the items I knew to be Ron's favorite, and the basket was now brimming with sweets and breakfast foods.
Ten past the hour, Ron arrived. He was disheveled, breathing heavily and flushed within his wrinkled robes, his hair flying hither and thither with static. He looked marvelous.
"Sorry I'm late," he muttered, taking a seat on the stereotypically checked blanket I'd spread over the dusty floor. "Seamus was taking up the bathroom for almost an hour before he - "
I kissed him. Never before had a kiss tasted so sweet; his breath was like toothpaste and orange juice, but pleasant. He broke the kiss, turning his head shyly and blushing from the tips of his ears to his chin.
"I thought we were here for breakfast," he murmured. He blushed even darker, ducking into the collar of his robes as though he wanted to escape. "Not that I'm complaining." I grinned oafishly.
I then set about to setting up the food. With a flick of my wand, the plates, chalices, silver, and napkins placed themselves perfectly on the blanket, followed by dishes of steaming and aromatic foods.
"Peach marmalade!" He glowed, the blush fading rapidly. "And brown-sugared pancakes! Oh, Draco!" My heart skipped; he was so happy, I wanted to see this all the time, never let go of this feeling of utter joy. He dug in, but I simply watched. He had a certain grace about him, despite the manner in which he managed the spill the pumpkin juice I'd brought him and break a chalice. He was adorable.
***
After a painfully long and draining autumn, the Earth was at long last allowing the heavens to kiss her feet with snow. In the secluded corner of the courtyard, I waited for him; and, after what seemed like an eternity, the redhead arrived. Snow was sticking in his brilliant hair in fat, wet flakes, and great clumps clung to his eyelashes.
He didn't seem surprised to see me waiting for him, but came silently to the gargoyle and would not allow me to kiss the snow from his lashes.
"Malfoy," he said, his voice loud but oddly muffled against the grey backdrop of sky and stone. "Draco. I'm not sure if - "
This came as no surprise; however, it hurt as nothing I have ever felt had. Someone in his house (the twins - Hermione - Harry?) had stumbled upon one of our secret rendezvous points. Someone knew of the bargain we had made such a short while ago. I didn't want to see it all end, but what could I do?
"If - " he couldn't seem to find the words to say what he was thinking. Before I could stop myself, the silver, cold part of my overtook the rest, and I turned away from his pale eyes.
I would hurt him before he hurt me. I would not let a Weasley win this, not without a proper Malfoy fight.
"We shouldn't be doing this," my mouth said, while my heart and my mind and my soul screamed out for me to stop. "We shouldn't be together. I don't want - " I couldn't seem to bring myself to finish. He whimpered into the snow, and I choked; for the first time in my life as a Malfoy, my heart had made itself heard over the rest of me.
I forced myself to continue, through gritted teeth. "I don't want - to be hurt by you, Weasley."
He smiled then, rubbed my shoulder through my cloak and heavy robes.
"Then I've held up my end of our little deal," he said quietly, calmly. His eyes were glistening as mine were with the salt of tears.
"What," I gasped. He leaned comfortably back against the gargoyle's stone scales.
"It'll come to you, Malfoy," he said, "It'll come to you."
As the snow continued to fall, professors called us back in to class. I remained on the great fat tail of the gargoyle, watching my breath freeze in the air, and after a moment, Ron stepped down beside me.
His lips brushed mine as he slowly slid past, and I realized with a startled sense of relief that he was crying freely.
And then I was alone in the courtyard, and there I stayed until I was herded inside for class by an irritated Professor Snape.
***
I'm expecting this to finish off the plot. Maybe an epilogue if the demands are great enough and if the situation calls for it. We're back in the mind of Draco, now, and the end draws near.
Ah, and while I'm thinking about it, as usual, Ron's casual spelling is intentional. Like I need to tell you.
***
The message was brought to me by a tiny little puff of an owl. I had not expected Ron to come to meet with me tonight; he really did need the sleep, and I was not going to be a dictator about all of this.
The little dear upturned his heart on me tonight. He's so precious, the way he worries about what will happen next. He shouldn't; I won't hurt him physically or mentally. Abuse is so underrated these days; I've lived to see it and won't put anyone else through it, Ron especially.
It is a bit difficult to simply push Harry aside, but for Ron, I will try my hardest. He's too marvelous to ruin like that.
I sent Pigwidgeon back to the Gryffendor tower once I had untied the hasty letter from his tiny claw and fed him my last bit of candy from the most recent trip to Hogsmeade, then settled into my bed to read it in peace. The great louts in my dormitory were snoring and whatnot, so I took refuge in a shadowed corner of the common room.
Can't come tonite - tomorrow morning sounds lovely, how's ten in the alcove behind Prof. Flitwick's office?
Ron
I smiled; his ideas are always the best. I collected my things from the common room and towed them all into the dormitory, then slipped into bed, though I was not tired in the least.
Earlier this evening I had learned from Hermione in a long owl sent to me after returning to the Slytherin common room that Professor McGonagall had arrived just after we had left the scene. Ginny had done a marvelous job flirting with the prefects, because they hadn't breathed a word to old McGonagall. Suspicious, however, she had searched the dormitories, demanded to know where Ron was after hours; Hermione, for once in her life, lied to a professor and told her that Ron had gone to visit Hagrid for advice on his Care of Magical Creatures lesson.
She must have bought it, because Hagrid wasn't bothered and she had no more questions for them.
Snape had raised an eyebrow when I arrived back well after midnight, but said nothing; he understood that I would tell him at a later point if it was really important. My father has been paying him off for years to see that I get in as little trouble as possible with the school. So far it's been working - though Snape truly is a fast friend despite the twenty years' difference between us.
Eventually, thoughts of the evening melted into thoughts of Ron, and sometime within the early morning hours, I fell asleep.
***
At ten o'clock the next morning, I was waiting in the Flitwick alcove with a picnic basket hovering at my side. I had gone to the kitchens at sunrise to collect the items I knew to be Ron's favorite, and the basket was now brimming with sweets and breakfast foods.
Ten past the hour, Ron arrived. He was disheveled, breathing heavily and flushed within his wrinkled robes, his hair flying hither and thither with static. He looked marvelous.
"Sorry I'm late," he muttered, taking a seat on the stereotypically checked blanket I'd spread over the dusty floor. "Seamus was taking up the bathroom for almost an hour before he - "
I kissed him. Never before had a kiss tasted so sweet; his breath was like toothpaste and orange juice, but pleasant. He broke the kiss, turning his head shyly and blushing from the tips of his ears to his chin.
"I thought we were here for breakfast," he murmured. He blushed even darker, ducking into the collar of his robes as though he wanted to escape. "Not that I'm complaining." I grinned oafishly.
I then set about to setting up the food. With a flick of my wand, the plates, chalices, silver, and napkins placed themselves perfectly on the blanket, followed by dishes of steaming and aromatic foods.
"Peach marmalade!" He glowed, the blush fading rapidly. "And brown-sugared pancakes! Oh, Draco!" My heart skipped; he was so happy, I wanted to see this all the time, never let go of this feeling of utter joy. He dug in, but I simply watched. He had a certain grace about him, despite the manner in which he managed the spill the pumpkin juice I'd brought him and break a chalice. He was adorable.
***
After a painfully long and draining autumn, the Earth was at long last allowing the heavens to kiss her feet with snow. In the secluded corner of the courtyard, I waited for him; and, after what seemed like an eternity, the redhead arrived. Snow was sticking in his brilliant hair in fat, wet flakes, and great clumps clung to his eyelashes.
He didn't seem surprised to see me waiting for him, but came silently to the gargoyle and would not allow me to kiss the snow from his lashes.
"Malfoy," he said, his voice loud but oddly muffled against the grey backdrop of sky and stone. "Draco. I'm not sure if - "
This came as no surprise; however, it hurt as nothing I have ever felt had. Someone in his house (the twins - Hermione - Harry?) had stumbled upon one of our secret rendezvous points. Someone knew of the bargain we had made such a short while ago. I didn't want to see it all end, but what could I do?
"If - " he couldn't seem to find the words to say what he was thinking. Before I could stop myself, the silver, cold part of my overtook the rest, and I turned away from his pale eyes.
I would hurt him before he hurt me. I would not let a Weasley win this, not without a proper Malfoy fight.
"We shouldn't be doing this," my mouth said, while my heart and my mind and my soul screamed out for me to stop. "We shouldn't be together. I don't want - " I couldn't seem to bring myself to finish. He whimpered into the snow, and I choked; for the first time in my life as a Malfoy, my heart had made itself heard over the rest of me.
I forced myself to continue, through gritted teeth. "I don't want - to be hurt by you, Weasley."
He smiled then, rubbed my shoulder through my cloak and heavy robes.
"Then I've held up my end of our little deal," he said quietly, calmly. His eyes were glistening as mine were with the salt of tears.
"What," I gasped. He leaned comfortably back against the gargoyle's stone scales.
"It'll come to you, Malfoy," he said, "It'll come to you."
As the snow continued to fall, professors called us back in to class. I remained on the great fat tail of the gargoyle, watching my breath freeze in the air, and after a moment, Ron stepped down beside me.
His lips brushed mine as he slowly slid past, and I realized with a startled sense of relief that he was crying freely.
And then I was alone in the courtyard, and there I stayed until I was herded inside for class by an irritated Professor Snape.
***
