A/N: A good thing about writing a little story with a fewer volume of reviews -- I can actually thank people personally. So thank you to: Chibi Tanny, Jadea (more Ron/Harry interaction just for you, and I'm flattered that you think Draco's alright, expert Draco wielder that you are, so very thrilled!), ash (will happen in the next two chapters, promise), Kate (thank you, glad that some semblance of plot is visible, I was worried), Thalia (I wrote you an e-mail, thank you for such an in-depth, thought out review, makes my day, that does), and Jaime!!! I luff you and Ron and his hard-on!! Mwah! :) Thanks for the reviews everyone! This chapter is dedicated to Dee, for she is my soulmate no matter what she thinks. And luff to Tas, who's already read this chapter, you lucky bird, you. :)

What Goes Around
by Sophie B.

Chapter 3

"God, how much further? I should have brought a bloody oxygen charm. Are nosebleeds quite rampant in your room, Weasley?"

"They will be soon, you stupid git," muttered Ron under his breath, his hands fisting at his sides. He looked back over his shoulder at Draco and scowled. "It's only five flights, Malfoy. You'd think you were as old as Dumbledore."

"In our manor we can just take the portal. The stairs are just for the guests and the servants past the second floor."

"Well, no wonder you're such a scrawny git. Your muscles have all atrophied."

Draco snorted. "Potter here is exactly the same size as me."

"Leave me out of this," Harry said quietly as he moved along next to Ron.

"That's not Harry's fault!" said Ron, paying the boy in question no mind. "It's because of those stupid muggles he lives with, they don't feed him right!"

Draco shook his head. "Oh, the muggles. You should be defending them, muggle-lover."

"There are good sorts and bad sorts in the muggle world just like there are in the wizarding world," Harry said pointedly.

Draco gave the dark-haired boy an evil look but did not reply, instead settling for scowling all the way up the final two flights.

By the time they reached the very top most landing, Ron's anger had quelled a bit. Sighing in relief, he turned the knob on the door leading to his room only to pause as he heard a snigger behind him.

"Huh, 'Ronald's Room'?" said Draco, eyeing up the small sign nailed to the door. "Get your own room, do you, Ronald. I'd have thought you'd all have to share one."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Ron mouthed silently through clenched teeth. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Malfoy followed the other boys into the room and looked around with critical eyes.

Ron braced himself for the inevitable string of obnoxious comments that would pour from the boy's mouth. If the pale git could be relied upon for anything it had to be his penchant for making bad situations worse. Well, that and making bad situations in the first place. Ron glared at Malfoy, his dark blue eyes flashing the challenge.

He was not disappointed, for, after giving the room a once over, Draco turned back to Ron and smirked. "Wow, Weasley, has there been an accident? This place is an absolute wreck. My condolences, I do hope no one was hurt."

"Shut up," said Ron, frowning quietly. He tried to keep the embarrassed blush contained to his ears, but it just didn't seem to be working. He could feel his whole face heating up and could only imagine the horrendous red hue he must have taken on by now. That in itself made him cringe with more embarrassment. Stupid Malfoy for doing this to him. Ron could feel his fingers veritably twitch with the desire to wrap around the prick's pale throat.

Heedless, Draco continued with growing enthusiasm. "Though, I see your walls have suffered a few fatal blows. It looks as if someone drank twelve pints of pumpkin juice and vomited it up again all over everything. What colour is that, anyhow? They could name it after you, Weasley, it's the same colour as your hair. Hideous."

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Ron.

"And Chudley, eh? Figures a loser like you would cheer a loser team like The Cannons."

Naturally, Ron looked scandalized. "They're ninth in the league!"

"There are only 13 teams in the league, Weasley," said Draco with no more than a dismissive wave of his hand. "I wouldn't be so proud."

Ron scowled. "At least they've got spirit."

Draco shook his head and laughed. "Spirit doesn't do anything for you. That's probably why Gryffindors are shit at everything. They've got spirit and nothing else."

For a moment, Ron was left without a single thing to say as he silently fumed over the blond's words.

Harry on the other hand wasted no time before jumping in to Ron's aid. "Yeah, that's exactly why we beat Slytherin every year at everything. Yeah, we're horrible alright," he said, his voice thin with sarcasm.

"Shut the fuck up, Potter," replied Draco. His nose crinkled with anger as his lip curled into a sneer. "The only thing you're not shit at is being lucky."

Ron glared at the blond. Finally, he said simply, "If my mum hears you swearing, you're going to get it."

"If your mum knows what's good for her fat arse, she'll leave me the fuck alone," Draco shot back.

Ron began to veritably shake with fury. Harry broke from his spot on the sidelines of the argument to put a hand on his best friend's shoulder and pull him over to his trunk to help unpack. "Don't pay attention. He wants you to get mad," mumbled Harry to Ron as they bent over his trunk, taking out his clothes and books.

But turning their backs to him did nothing to shut Draco up. "Whispering sweet nothings into your boyfriend's ear, Potter? Don't you think you should save that for when you're alone?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry, keeping a firm grip on Ron's shoulder. "Ron, you're going to get in trouble," he leaned in and whispered softly. "You're parents are right downstairs." With a closed grimace, Ron nodded.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, get a room. A different room," Draco bit out. His tone conveyed a certain degree of irritation at being ignored, which, Ron noted, was more reason to go on doing just that.

"I say, where am I to sleep?" Draco asked, apparently trying a different avenue of approach. "I call the bed," he added without waiting for an answer. He set his things down on it and hopped onto the mattress, sprawling out casually.

Ron narrowed his eyes as he watched the blond boy sprawl out casually, bending his arms up to cradle his head on the pillow. He swallowed a growl and gave a disgusted shake of his head. "It's my bed, Malfoy. Don't you think I should get to decide?"

Draco turned his head to the side and gave Ron a lazy smirk, making the redhead blush slightly. "Frankly? No, I don't," he said in a lazy drawl as if to continue the theme. "I'm the guest here, Weasley, and if you had any manners at all, you would have offered your bed to me straight away."

"Harry's a guest too," countered Ron. His blush easily slipped into an angrier shade of red. Malfoy was going to keep pushing; it always happened like this. Ron blinked and shook his head slightly. He had to keep control of himself. Malfoy couldn't do anything to him, not in his own house, in his room. "Harry's even more of a guest, since we actually want him here."

"No, he's not," said Draco. "He's practically your Siamese twin. Or a bad fungal growth...difficult to tell the difference, really."

Ron scowled but had to admit that it was partly true; he and Harry were practically brothers. Though, Harry didn't look quite happy to be talked about in such a manner.

Ron sneered at the blond boy on the bed. "Well, I wanted the cot anyway. I sure as hell wasn't going to have you sleep next to Harry so you could terrorize him during the night. We're as good as family and family sticks together."

Harry nodded in approval.

Draco didn't seem phased by any of the conversation. "If you're done with your self-righteous spiel, why don't you two skip along to another room for a bit, hmm?" he suggested and quite pleasantly at that. Condescendingly so, Ron noted with an irritated roll of his eyes as Draco continued. "I'd like some peace and quiet. Being around you all day long has given me a headache. I'm allergic to such tender displays, you know."

"You want to be alone? Then you leave. We're staying right here, in Ron's room," said Harry, unpacking his things next to his cot.

"That's right," said Ron. "I need to go talk to my parents, but when I get back, if you're still talking such rubbish, you'll be sorry."

"Oh, I'm scared, Weasley. You've frightened me with your terrible words," Draco said, that same lazy tone prodding at Ron's nerves.

"They say sarcasm is the lowest form of humour, Malfoy," Harry informed the blond.

"I'm not trying to be funny. Weasley, here, is laughable enough for all of us as it is. Really, have you ever heard of a host threatening to pummel his guest?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry. He groaned and shook his head, "You aren't even a real guest. More like our prisoner, really." He smirked triumphantly as Draco answered the charge with only a glare, evil and full of purpose and promise as it was.

Ron looked on with unbounded hatred and not only a slight degree of suspicion. "I'm going," he announced, suddenly. He turned to Malfoy and stared him down. "If you so much as touch Harry, I will kill you."

"Why in God's name would I want to touch Potter? That's more your idea of fun, isn't it, Weasley?"

"Ah, Ron, no!" said Harry, jumping in front of the redhead and holding the taller boy back as he struggled and clawed the air, reaching for Draco. "Ron go! You wanted to talk to your parents, go...," he said pushing Ron out the door. "You can deal with him later."

Ron grumbled and turned down the stairs. Harry turned around and glared at the blond boy, now sitting calm and collected on the bed with a slap-worthy smirk on his face. Harry was almost tempted.

"You have manners. I hardly believe that your parents wouldn't have taught you any considering your social standing. Why don't you use them?" he hissed.

"Why would I want to waste my manners on a bunch of Weasleys. It's not as if their opinions matter to anybody. I won't behave all prim and proper for people who don't know the first thing about class and refinement. I can't be arsed to do it."

"And that shows just what a poser you are."

Malfoy sneered arrogantly, refusing to dignify Harry's rebuke with an answer.

Harry sat down on his cot and stared across the room at the other boy, his mind whirling. "Ok. So. How did you cast that curse? Without the Ministry picking up on it, I mean."

Draco grinned. "My father got permission from the Ministry because I take lessons during summer holidays. So, if they monitor me doing magic, they ignore it."

"Oh," said Harry with a frown on his lips.

"It's good to be a Malfoy, you know." Draco grinned wider. "Why not just admit it, Potter. It's good to be me. I've got the life. Just admit it. There's nothing wrong with being jealous when you have such a good reason to be."

"I have no reason to be jealous of a poncy git like you, Malfoy."

Draco gave a short laugh and turned his back to Harry.

Harry sighed, realizing he wasn't going anywhere but in circles with the boy. Malfoy was just annoying -- all pale and staring big grey eyes, the ghost of that stupid smirk still on his face. He understood all too well why Ron was driven to murder every time he came within sight of Draco.

"Why did you do it, Malfoy?" Harry blurted out suddenly.

Draco turned back around and sat up straight, a look of superiority written across his countenance. "Wouldn't you like to know," he snorted.

"Yes, I would," said Harry. "I've been under the Cruciatus curse. There's a reason why it's an Unforgivable. A good reason. You're more evil than I'd thought, to be able to cast it and act like you've done nothing wrong. Or more stupid. Why did you do it? You owe it to Ron to tell him at least that much."

"Yes, owe it to Ron, Potter, not you. So why don't you stop going about like everything is your business."

"It is my business if it's to do with Ron!"

"Oh yes, I forgot you're his other half, aren't you. He couldn't live without your help, could he. Well, now, don't we have an ego the size of Scotland. Weasley is his own person, you know. He could just as easily wake up tomorrow, realize what an obtrusive, selfish bastard you are and leave you forever just as easily as he could go on being your lap dog." Draco gave the dark-haired boy another one of his superior looks.

Harry's mouth dropped in disbelief. "I'm selfish? I'm selfish?! I hardly think you're qualified to judge. You cast Crucio on him for God's sake! That's not selfish? And he's not my lap dog. I know Ron's his own person. Don't sit there and try to tell me about my own best friend."

Draco frowned. "Yes and such a good friend, that you rub your fame in his face and keep him at your heels so he can't be hurt by the big bad world. Isn't that right?"

Harry shook his head and let out a short huff of a laugh. "I can't believe I'm even speaking to you about this. I'm not going to talk about Ron with you. You can't call me a bad friend when you're the one who goes about making his life miserable."

"Yes, but I'm not his friend, am I, Potter."

Harry scowled. "Just shut up, Malfoy. I know what you're trying to do. You're more transparent than the Bloody Baron. But it's not going to work. So, just don't talk to me."

Draco shrugged. "Yes, well, your voice rather was getting on my nerves anyway. Whine, whine, whine...how people take you for generous and humble, I'll never know."

Harry glared but didn't take the bait. Instead, he pulled out Flying with the Cannons and laid back on his cot. And that was that. Draco harrumphed and fell back on the bed once more, and finally, the room fell into a deep silence.

* * *

Molly looked to Arthur warily as she busied herself with the task of digging through her knitting bag. She had kept her thoughts to herself in Diagon Alley, but now that they were at home, out of public view, all her worries and grievances poured forth, her flustered face threatening equally to burst into tears or bark angrily at her husband. But she calmed herself with a deep breath and shook her head.

"Arthur, he might be dangerous. He already hurt Ron, we don't know what he's capable of. He's a Malfoy, remember? And Lucius is a Death Eater."

"I know, Molly, I know. But what else could I do?"

"Normally I would be happy to take the boy in for a few weeks and welcome him into my home -- God knows he probably needs someone to care for him after living in that horrible family, you heard the way Lucius yelled at the poor child -- but I can't do it if my own children are put in danger because of him."

Arthur nodded.

"And, Arthur," Molly continued with a frown, "It's just an extra mouth to feed. We already have Harry and now...we don't need help around the house that badly. Is it worth all this?"

"I talked to Dumbledore over the bricks. I told him about all this, and he seems to think it's a good idea. He thinks we'll be okay with Draco here. Molly, the boy could have killed Ron. And he's only fifteen. Someone has to do something, don't they? This risk -- for one less Death Eater, one less life lived as a murderer...I don't think we have any choice but to try. We can't send him to Azkaban, Dumbledore confirmed that much."

"He deserves Azkaban."

Both the elder Weasleys looked up to find Ron standing there at the bottom of the staircase. Molly patted the cushion next to her on the couch, and Ron went and sat down next to his mother. She wrapped her arms around him in a comforting hug. "I know this must be hard for you, Ron."

Arthur nodded. "But think about it, son, he's the same age as you. Your schoolmate. Just a kid."

"So what?" Ron bit out, relinquishing himself from Molly's embrace. "If Malfoy'd done it to Ginny or Percy I bet you would have had him locked up."

"Ron, that's not true," said Molly.

"It's alright, Molly. If he wants to sulk, he can. It's his right after what's happened. I can understand--"

"You aren't understanding at all!" said Ron. "He's going to be a bloody Death Eater! That curse he cast on me might as well have been Avada Kedavra for all he cares!" Frowning deeply, he mumbled an afterthought, "For all you care."

"Ron!" cried Molly.

"Ron, you know that's not true!"

Ron shook his head. "The bastard's not even sorry."

"Ron, language," warned Mrs. Weasley.

Ron scowled and stood abruptly. "And you've given him my room and let him off the hook and then tell me to be nice to him? And you take his side over your own son's? I wish it had been Avada Kedavra!"

Before either of his parents could say another word, Ron spun around and ran up the stairs. They heard the bathroom door slam shut and the tap let open to full blast.

"He's probably crying," Molly said, turning to her husband.

He nodded looking thoughtful. "Let him cry. Let him get it all out. I'll go talk to him again in the evening."

Molly raised her eyebrows at her husband, her mouth set to a stern line.

Arthur shrugged, counting the weeks until the end of summer in his head. He sighed deeply. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

* * *

Ron sniffed as he made his way across the lawn. After leaving the bathroom five minutes after his little talk with his parents, he'd sneaked back down, past still arguing parents, and into the back yard. Then he'd walked. A good while. Now finally it was dark and he was probably late for dinner, but at least he'd had a chance to calm down. He didn't want Harry or any of his family to see him so upset. He didn't want Malfoy to see him so upset.

As he entered the house, he found that, sure enough, the entire family had sat down to dinner at the table, apparently just now, for their plates were still very much empty. No one commented on his late arrival. Ron supposed they felt sorry for him or something ridiculous like that. But then really, he did deserve some pity. Afterall, the only empty seat left was right next to Malfoy of all people. Everyone really was out to get him. At least Harry was on his other side.

Molly gave Ron a small, relieved smile as he sat down making sure not to look at Malfoy.

Soon they started, their plates piled with Molly's cooking. Tonight they were having a roast and carrots and some kind of gravy and mash. Ron glanced at Draco who was looking at his full plate with disgust speaking loudly through his crinkled nose and the grimace on his face.

Ron frowned. "Not up to your standards, Malfoy? You'd better eat it unless you want to starve, you aren't about to get any of your caviars or filet mig-non here," he whispered harshly, turning back to his own plate.

"Fuck off, pillock. You wouldn't know Filet Mignon if it bloody well jumped up your arse," he muttered quietly out the corner of his mouth, though loud enough for everyone to hear him just fine.

"Draco! I don't know what's allowed in your home, but here we do not use that kind of language at the table."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't think it would matter. I had imagined that your kind wouldn't even know what manners were considering there would be no need for them when living like peasants." He drawled, letting his hand wave in a bored manner.

Ron growled next to him, as he shoved another spoonful of potatoes into his mouth, chewing angrily.

Molly sighed. "Draco, I think you are done for tonight. Please clear your plate and go to your room."

"What? But I'm not done."

"Yes you are. If you cannot keep your mouth in check then you will not sit at this table."

"That's abuse! You can't starve me...what kind of sick freaks are you?!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, shut up! You're not going to starve just because you skip one measly dinner!" Ron shouted rising from his chair and leering over the blond. Molly coughed and gave him a look, and he sat down again and began stabbing dejectedly at his meat.

"Draco, if you're hungry, I will bring some soup up for you in a bit. Now, please go to your room," Mrs. Weasley said sternly.

Draco stood abruptly -- causing the legs of the chair to screech painfully against the floor -- and glared at her.

"I don't want to eat your rotten poor people food anyhow! I'd probably get WORMS!" he yelled loudly. He picked up a corn roll from his plate and threw it at Ron's head, before whipping around and quickly storming away and up the staircase.

As the blond boy disappeared up the steps, the rest of the family all turned their attention back to the table. Arthur coughed uncomfortably, and the Twins tried to hide their sniggers, while Harry helped Ron pick crumbs out of his hair. Percy clicked his tongue in disapproval, and Molly sighed. "Ginny, pass the gravy, please."

And they resumed their dinner.

E/N: The Weasley's are being a bit naïve, I don't think they completely understand what they're getting themselves into...well Ron does. If I've made mistakes anywhere, please don't hesitate to let me know so that I can fix them. Next time More of that wretched Weasley angst of which I am so fond (I only torture them because I love them) and Ron and Malfoy get into a fight. How unusual. Molly is not amused. And more on Arthur's motivation.