A/N: Wow, people are actually READING this!!! Cool! OK, since five of you
have so nicely reviewed my story (yayayay!) I will continue it just for
you! I hope you feel PRIVELIGED lol! If anyone has any idea/suggestions etc
on what I should do next in this story, do not be afraid to tell me IN A
REVIEW!!! *cough*
Broken Angel
Chapter 2
"M-M-Malfoy," I stutter.
"Weasley." He says again. "Were you following me?" he asks, his voice calm.
What should I say? How should I answer? If I say yes, he'll think I'm some crazy stalker, but if I say no, I'll be lying to myself and . . . oh, what the hec, I ALWAYS lie to myself!
"No," I answer. I am ashamed to say that my voice wavered a bit.
"Really?" He raises an eyebrow. "Took you a while to answer," he states.
Oh Merlin, please don't let him be suspicious.
My throat feels dry as I speak.
"What are you implying? That I'm . . . stalking you?" I ask, trying to sound disgusted.
"I'm not implying anything. Just . . ." his voice trails off.
"Just what?" I want to know.
"You were watching me," he says quietly, locking eyes with me.
I swallow.
"So what if I was?" I ask.
"You've been watching me for a while," he states.
Oh no. He can't possibly . . . he can't have . . . how can he know? I was so careful!
"No I haven't," I say weakly.
"Liar," he says quietly. "You've been watching me ever since that night, haven't you?" he accuses, his usually calm voice letting in some anger. "That night when I . . . when you saw me . . ." he can't seem to finish his sentence.
"Crying?" I finish gently.
He glares at me.
"A Malfoy never cries. Crying is for the weak." He says firmly.
Damn his pride. Stupid gorgeous Malfoy. In denial: about CRYING.
"No, it isn't. Crying is emotion. Emotions are good, they help you-" I start, trying to get him to see that it's nothing to be ashamed of.
"Help you what, Weasley? Make a fool of yourself? Show weakness to your enemies?" he spits spitefully.
"Oh, come on, Malfoy! Crying does NOT show weakness! It shows emotion: that you can . . . feel," I try to explain to him.
Hec, I can't even count how many times I'VE cried . . . over Him. Over how he would never see me in the light that I see him. If he ever found out . . . no, he won't. Unless I tell him. And that's not gonna happen. No one else knows, do they? No one apart from myself know that I . . .
That I what? Care for him? Pity him? Lo- no. Don't even go there, Ron. God, who would've thought that I'd be having an argument with Dra-I mean Malfoy, about CRYING.
"Look, Weasel, I know that every time you get insulted you run crying to Potter, telling him to kill the 'Big Bad Insultor' - you think that doesn't show weakness? Then what DOES?" he asks.
I don't know. I tell him that.
"You see? Crying is for the weak," he sneers. "Now tell me, Weasel, why the HELL have you been following me since that night?" he spits.
Damn. I thought he'd forgotten about what started this conversation.
"Um . . ." I say.
Oh, great way to start your explanation, Ron.
"Er . . ." I try again.
OK, that can't even be counted as an IMPROVEMENT from my previous sentence.
He arches a golden-blonde eyebrow.
"Well?" he presses on. "Are-you-going-to-tell-me-or-not? Or-do-I-have-to- beat-the-shit-out-of-you-first?" he asks, as if speaking to a child.
Which he is. Judging by the fact that I am sixteen and - no, wait. At sixteen you can be called an adult. Right? Right? OK, deep breaths Ron, deep breaths.
"Uh . . ." I say (probably just to continue the pattern of non-grammatic words).
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Weasley! Can't you even answer a bloody question?" he hisses.
"Erm . . ." oh come on - this is just getting RIDICULOUS!
Draco growls.
Wait. Draco . . . growls?
He slams me against the tree. Oh shit, I can feel his breathing on my face. Oh, and, did I mention that there is a branch digging into my back?
"Why. Have. You. Been. Following. Me. Since. That. Night?" he growls.
I swallow.
He's so close to me . . . oh, if only he would just move a smidgen forward and close the gap between us, and-
No, no, NO Ron, do NOT go there!
"I-I-I . . ." I stutter.
He smirks.
"Scared, Weasel?" he asks.
Oh yeah I'm scared.
Scared of what's gonna be pushing it's way out of my pants in a minute or two.
I swallow audibly.
He smirks.
Lucky he doesn't know it's because I get so nervous when I'm around him. He really is an angel. He certainly looks like one.
But that's not the only reason I like him. I like him because . . . well, because of a number of things, actually. The main one being there's more to him than first meets the eye.
Watching him for just under a year has proved that.
"Weasley, are you going to tell me why you've been stalking me, or not?" he whispers huskily. Well, at least it sounds husky to me.
I swallow again.
Damn. He's moving his face closer and closer towards mine.
My eyes are as wide as saucers.
Then he turns, just at the last moment, and-
Shit.
He's looking down at my jeans.
I look down as well.
Oh dear, sweet Merlin. There is quite an obvious bulge sticking out.
He immediately pulls away, staring at me with a mixture of shock and disgust on his face.
"Y-you sick f-f-fag. Y-y-you've been g-getting turned on by this y-y-you fairy!" he stutters, turning away and bolting to Hogwarts as fast as he can.
Shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck.
You've really done it now, Ron.
What if he tells anyone?
Oh shit.
What about Harry? Hermione? What will they say?
But it's not my fault, is it? I-I-I mean I-I-I'm a-a hormone-driven teenager, right?
Bloody hell, I'm stuttering in my thoughts.
Denial gets you nowhere!
Oh shit. I'm gonna have to talk to him tomorrow. Tell him that I was thinking of, uh, Fleur. Yeah, that's it, Fleur Delacour. She's visited a few times since forth year. She's actually really nice once you get your head round how beautiful she is - she lost some of that attractiveness when I figured out that I was gay, but still, same thing.
Dammit, I shouldn't be thinking about her at a time like this!
I have to confront Draco tomorrow. If he hasn't told the world, that is.
I sigh, pick up the invisibility cloak off the ground, and start walking back to Hogwarts.
Broken Angel
Chapter 2
"M-M-Malfoy," I stutter.
"Weasley." He says again. "Were you following me?" he asks, his voice calm.
What should I say? How should I answer? If I say yes, he'll think I'm some crazy stalker, but if I say no, I'll be lying to myself and . . . oh, what the hec, I ALWAYS lie to myself!
"No," I answer. I am ashamed to say that my voice wavered a bit.
"Really?" He raises an eyebrow. "Took you a while to answer," he states.
Oh Merlin, please don't let him be suspicious.
My throat feels dry as I speak.
"What are you implying? That I'm . . . stalking you?" I ask, trying to sound disgusted.
"I'm not implying anything. Just . . ." his voice trails off.
"Just what?" I want to know.
"You were watching me," he says quietly, locking eyes with me.
I swallow.
"So what if I was?" I ask.
"You've been watching me for a while," he states.
Oh no. He can't possibly . . . he can't have . . . how can he know? I was so careful!
"No I haven't," I say weakly.
"Liar," he says quietly. "You've been watching me ever since that night, haven't you?" he accuses, his usually calm voice letting in some anger. "That night when I . . . when you saw me . . ." he can't seem to finish his sentence.
"Crying?" I finish gently.
He glares at me.
"A Malfoy never cries. Crying is for the weak." He says firmly.
Damn his pride. Stupid gorgeous Malfoy. In denial: about CRYING.
"No, it isn't. Crying is emotion. Emotions are good, they help you-" I start, trying to get him to see that it's nothing to be ashamed of.
"Help you what, Weasley? Make a fool of yourself? Show weakness to your enemies?" he spits spitefully.
"Oh, come on, Malfoy! Crying does NOT show weakness! It shows emotion: that you can . . . feel," I try to explain to him.
Hec, I can't even count how many times I'VE cried . . . over Him. Over how he would never see me in the light that I see him. If he ever found out . . . no, he won't. Unless I tell him. And that's not gonna happen. No one else knows, do they? No one apart from myself know that I . . .
That I what? Care for him? Pity him? Lo- no. Don't even go there, Ron. God, who would've thought that I'd be having an argument with Dra-I mean Malfoy, about CRYING.
"Look, Weasel, I know that every time you get insulted you run crying to Potter, telling him to kill the 'Big Bad Insultor' - you think that doesn't show weakness? Then what DOES?" he asks.
I don't know. I tell him that.
"You see? Crying is for the weak," he sneers. "Now tell me, Weasel, why the HELL have you been following me since that night?" he spits.
Damn. I thought he'd forgotten about what started this conversation.
"Um . . ." I say.
Oh, great way to start your explanation, Ron.
"Er . . ." I try again.
OK, that can't even be counted as an IMPROVEMENT from my previous sentence.
He arches a golden-blonde eyebrow.
"Well?" he presses on. "Are-you-going-to-tell-me-or-not? Or-do-I-have-to- beat-the-shit-out-of-you-first?" he asks, as if speaking to a child.
Which he is. Judging by the fact that I am sixteen and - no, wait. At sixteen you can be called an adult. Right? Right? OK, deep breaths Ron, deep breaths.
"Uh . . ." I say (probably just to continue the pattern of non-grammatic words).
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Weasley! Can't you even answer a bloody question?" he hisses.
"Erm . . ." oh come on - this is just getting RIDICULOUS!
Draco growls.
Wait. Draco . . . growls?
He slams me against the tree. Oh shit, I can feel his breathing on my face. Oh, and, did I mention that there is a branch digging into my back?
"Why. Have. You. Been. Following. Me. Since. That. Night?" he growls.
I swallow.
He's so close to me . . . oh, if only he would just move a smidgen forward and close the gap between us, and-
No, no, NO Ron, do NOT go there!
"I-I-I . . ." I stutter.
He smirks.
"Scared, Weasel?" he asks.
Oh yeah I'm scared.
Scared of what's gonna be pushing it's way out of my pants in a minute or two.
I swallow audibly.
He smirks.
Lucky he doesn't know it's because I get so nervous when I'm around him. He really is an angel. He certainly looks like one.
But that's not the only reason I like him. I like him because . . . well, because of a number of things, actually. The main one being there's more to him than first meets the eye.
Watching him for just under a year has proved that.
"Weasley, are you going to tell me why you've been stalking me, or not?" he whispers huskily. Well, at least it sounds husky to me.
I swallow again.
Damn. He's moving his face closer and closer towards mine.
My eyes are as wide as saucers.
Then he turns, just at the last moment, and-
Shit.
He's looking down at my jeans.
I look down as well.
Oh dear, sweet Merlin. There is quite an obvious bulge sticking out.
He immediately pulls away, staring at me with a mixture of shock and disgust on his face.
"Y-you sick f-f-fag. Y-y-you've been g-getting turned on by this y-y-you fairy!" he stutters, turning away and bolting to Hogwarts as fast as he can.
Shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck.
You've really done it now, Ron.
What if he tells anyone?
Oh shit.
What about Harry? Hermione? What will they say?
But it's not my fault, is it? I-I-I mean I-I-I'm a-a hormone-driven teenager, right?
Bloody hell, I'm stuttering in my thoughts.
Denial gets you nowhere!
Oh shit. I'm gonna have to talk to him tomorrow. Tell him that I was thinking of, uh, Fleur. Yeah, that's it, Fleur Delacour. She's visited a few times since forth year. She's actually really nice once you get your head round how beautiful she is - she lost some of that attractiveness when I figured out that I was gay, but still, same thing.
Dammit, I shouldn't be thinking about her at a time like this!
I have to confront Draco tomorrow. If he hasn't told the world, that is.
I sigh, pick up the invisibility cloak off the ground, and start walking back to Hogwarts.