*Drools* Reviews! Reviews!Yayness!! *skips around in a circle thowing cyanide*

KellieAnne: I adore you! Two reviews, and oh, yes, Draco stories are so much more fun than Harry-Potter-Saves-The-Day stories. Blech. That's why he's not going to be very important in this story. I'll just put him in to be a bit jealous and confused.
Antigone Q: Thank you so much! Compliments make so very happy
Ayinsee: Yes, yes, it can be cute, in a twisted kind of way.

A/N: Lucius is a little sadist, isn't he? I was going to put in a bit of incestous thoughts in his little skull, but decided not to, and have him just frantically jealous of Narcissa. Maybe I'll do a story on them. Hmm.... And yes, this is NOT SLASH. Slash kind of wierds me out... this story is mostly going to be about a friendship. Ron and Draco... my favorite characters!!! Yay! *resumes skipping*
Anyway, Ladtra is important. And my first chapt, which I don't want to edit again, is off-putting. As you see, it's only PG 13. Less obscene than I thought, so ignore that A/N. Not this one, since it's so very special.

Disclaimer: I make no profit. I do not own anyone but Draco and Ron, because one night I went to Hogwarts and captured them and they are currently in my closet right now next to my knife collection holding them for ransom. HA! Fooled ya! *sticks out tounge at lawyers* But tis true, I do not own anything but my twisted plot. *Evades Mental Institution People* Happy now?

===================

Draco was leaning by a tree. He realized how stupid he was, how dumb it was to come here. Where the hell was he? All he saw was snow. Stupid, stupid, goddamn snow. He didn't dare go anywhere that might contain Muggles.

Ah, Muggles. He used to hate them- hate them at first when he was younger, because his father did, so he did. But in third year, Dumbledore had made him take Muggle Studies. He complained to his father, but he couldn't do anything. But his father hadn't taken it out on him, just the house-elf, and had killed him. The Malfoy family had a new house-elf almost every two years. Just the word Malfoy and given away put together shut up every single house-elf in England. And he hated them for a while, because of that know-it-all-snot Granger, who had no life and was such a teacher's pet (though he knew he wasn't one to talk, the last thing in the world he wanted was another Golden Gryffindor). But now he almost envied them, envied the small apartments because they were warmer than the gold-plated Malfoy Manor, with rusting iron in the inside. The Malfoy name was covered in decay. And death.

He was sleeping, still sleeping, in the cold wet pillows of nature, when he had the rudest awakening possible- a kick in his aching bruises, before hearing a soft of fall. Quickly, not even bothering to see who it was (he didn't know, of course, that that person was a fellow wizard), fearing it a Muggle, he drew his Invisibility Cloak softly about him and slipped noiselessly away, by a small, lonely tree on a small bump in the snow.
=====
Lately Ron had been strangely attracted to the borders of Ladtra, where it was at least quiet- no shrieking mirrors, talking fireplaces, Mum, Dad, and especially the so Ron Weasely, what are you going to do with your entire life because your family is stinking poor and you have to find a job soon because if you don't you're going to starve and look more stupid than you do already so you better shape up grade-wise or no Ministry Department will take you then despite pretty good OWLs and then were will you be while Granger is out discovering new spells and stuff and Potter is saving the world? conversation. He tired of it. So every day he wandered out in his assortment of sweaters, but he never tripped over the same invisible object again.

He was still wandering, bored with his life, and even sick of it, thinking of his uselessness to You-Know-Who. Even he wouldn't be able to use Ron, that was how stupid he felt. He was second place- even perhaps third place, the third banana. He didn't know, of course, that Draco felt the same way. His wandering feet took him to a small little bump by a small pine tree, and he sat by the top, staring blankly around, until-

What the HELL? He screamed in his head. There was Malfoy, out of all people, slumped against that tree. Malfoy didn't see him at all, as he was staring blankly like Ron was. So Ron took a couple looks until he formed a wonderful insult:
You look like shit, Malfoy.

Startled, Malfoy looked at him. He was pale, wan, and was that blood crusted a bit on his eyelids? What was he doing here, after all? Ron was a bit dazed from the strangeness of it all, but was very pleased with himself; he had never really gotten the better of him before.

Draco, of course, was equally shocked. What the fuck was Weasely doing here, all lumpy with millions of sweaters on him? And shit. The last thing he needed was Potter's sidekick laughing at him, and telling his tale in school. And then I found Malfoy, stupid arse, looking all wierd and shitty-looking and wounded right by a Muggle Town! And then, of course, a royal laugh and poke from the Gryffindor crowd.
I should say the same, Weasely, if you didn't always look so bad, He said cooly. And what are you doing here on such a fine day?

Draco had expected a red, pissed off Weasely ready to punch the hell out of him, so he plunged into his robes before realizing that he was indeed stupid. No wand. Crap. But Weasely didn't even attack him, just said quietly with a low laugh: Very funny, Malfoy. I'm not even going to try to counter that- we all know how wonderful and witty you are. And I might ask you the same thing. A couple feet away from Muggle-ville, alone, no wand, bleeding, blank-looking- might I add more to show how strange your circumstances are to my point of veiw?

Draco took some several steps back- this wasn't the Weasely he knew; the Weasely he knew would be resembling eggplant about the face, and he would be resembling a squashed tomato from being Weasely's punching bag. He was surprised- no losing temper, not even a blush- evidently Weasely had become a bit more intelligent; or either he had developed a mask.

He opened his mouth, to make a smark comment, before closing it. What was the point, anyway, to this fighting? Potter, who had caused his father to hurt him, wasn't there- neither was Granger. To come to think of it, he had never really hated Weasely, not like Potter or Granger, but rather laughed at him. But he didn't seem very laugh-able now, not while he himself was in a bad situation. So he just raised an eyebrow and said softly, almost resignedly:
No. You don't need to. But you don't have to know what I'm doing here. It's none of your business, Weasely.

Ron blinked. No insult, no counterattack at all. Well, hasn't he changed then? He thought nastily, before saying breusquely: Have it your way, Malfoy. Have fun. He strode off.

Draco leaned back on the tree. He actually found that he missed Weasely- talking with someone besides himself was actually pleasant. The conversation was nearly devoid of insult, a rare event, except for maybe when he talked with Mother. But he returned to his thoughts: of how stupid he was. How wonderfully interesting, he groaned. He almost followed Weasely, in hope of food, a bed, but dismissed it. What would Weasely do for him, after all Draco had done to him? They didn't like each other at all. Being around poor people made him nervous, too. And they still didn't like each other- no short conversation was going to change that. He recounted all the times they had fought, insulted, and yelled at each other, gotten each other in trouble, and he realized that he had been the instigator. Not that he felt guilt- he thought basically, oh well, but it was pretty obvious that Weasely wasn't going to let him into his precious home. Though it was probably for the best: more stares, either of pity or loathing hurt a Malfoy.

So he drew his Invisibility Cloak upon him, and closed his pale eyes.