Harry opened the door to the dark dorm room and peered in.
He had seen the three other second-year boys who shared the dorm with them downstairs in the common room, so he knew Ron would be alone.
And there he was, sleeping fitfully.
Harry went to his chest and set his books down. He stuck a finger into Hedwig's cage in greeting, and let the snowy owl nip at his finger. Hedwig looked over at Ron's bed and cooed softly.
Harry smiled. His owl was a very intelligent bird.
Harry went to Ron's bed. Scabbers was, as usual, passed out. Curled on Ron's table and completely ignoring the rest of the world.
Ron's face was scrunched up in sleep, and he was muttering to himself.
Ron usually slept quietly, so Harry knew right off he was in the middle of some dream. And not a very good one.
So he reached out and shook his shoulder. "Ron?"
Ron started, his eyes flying open. "Harry?" His voice was panicked.
"It's okay, Ron. Just a dream."
Ron breathed out in relief, sitting up awkwardly. "Harry. Am I glad to see you."
"What's wrong? You had a dream about me?"
Ron rubbed at his eyes and nodded. "Ugh. I hate nightmares. It's usually some bloody great spider out to get me or something."
"Not this time?"
"No." He smiled, but it looked forced. "I guess Snape's got to me."
"Well, no wonder." Harry grimaced into the darkness. "He'd better not try anything like that again."
"It's Snape. Of course he will." Ron shivered a little, then grinned. "Still. No harm done."
"Oh, sure. He had you vomiting your own teeth in class today, but no harm done."
"It wasn't that bad, Harry."
"It looked that bad. It gave you nightmares."
"Look, it's alright. I'm just glad I wasn't sitting there watching it happen to y…to someone else. I think you had it worse."
Harry scowled at that. He had caught the slip, and knew exactly what Ron had almost said. "You volunteered for him just so he wouldn't pick me, didn't you?"
Ron flushed so hard Harry could see it even in the darkness. "Well. He's always picking on you. It's not exactly fair, is it?"
"But after that last time, with Malfoy…how could you jump right back up there?"
Ron looked away and shrugged. "Wasn't that bad, I told you."
"And you were lying."
"Was not."
"Too."
Ron glared at him, then grinned. "Stupid thing to argue over, isn't it? It's done with."
Harry frowned at him, refusing to let him lighten the air. "It's ridiculous, Ron. I'm not going to let you volunteer to get torn up by Snape just because you think he may call on me."
Ron sighed. "Fine. I won't do any more volunteering. But if he keeps up with you…"
Harry studied his profile for a minute. "Thanks."
"Huh?"
"Thanks. I mean…not for doing it, because I still think you're a bloody idiot."
Ron smiled faintly.
"But thanks for wanting to. No one's ever wanted to…" He didn't really know how to finish. No one had ever stood up for him before, true enough, but Ron did more. Ron jumped in front of fire for him, practically.
Ron glanced over at him and his smile grew. He was still flushing darkly. "Well, they should have."
Harry thought about it, later that night when he was trying to fall asleep. And it wasn't quite true. There had been people willing to jump into fire to save him.
His parents. And they had died for it.
The thought sent a horrible, vivid feeling of fear through Harry so intense he opened his eyes and lost all trace of sleepiness.
His parents had died protecting him. He never even knew them, and he still suffered day after day thinking about what they had done.
The idea that there as someone around, someone he actually did know and like, who was willing to do the same thing…
He glanced over at Ron, studying the head of red hair.
If Ron ended up getting killed to save him, Harry wasn't sure if he would be able to live with himself. It had almost happened last year, and Harry was more than sure he wasn't done with Voldemort yet.
Strange, that. How suddenly and all at once the idea of not having Ron around was enough to scare his heart into pounding a mile a minute.
***
Draco Malfoy gave a shrill laugh as Harry and Ron went down to the dining room for breakfast. There weren't many others down there -- they were both coming down late enough to risk being late for their first class.
Malfoy was there, though, sitting with Crabbe and Goyle, as usual, and Pansy Parkinson, a sour-faced Slytherin girl who absolutely despised Hermione. And they were all sneering as Harry glanced their way.
"Say, Potter." Malfoy's voice was snide. "Can't you afford a better bodyguard than some miserable Weasley?"
Ron tensed beside Harry, but they kept walking to Gryffindor's table.
There was laughter from Slytherin.
They sat, and their breakfast immediately appeared on the plates in front of them.
Harry cast all his attention to eating, ignoring the over-loud voices coming from Slytherin's table.
"I wonder how much he's paying to have a Weasley looking after him. Knowing that family it wouldn't take much."
Ron sat there stiffly across from Harry, picking at his food.
"You know, now that I think about it maybe it was smart to get a Weasley to do it. They're so poor they'd work for peanuts. And if this one gets killed or something, there's a dozen more just like him to choose from."
Harry nearly choked on his sausage.
Ron. Killed. The idea of it came too close to his realization that Ron could indeed suffer the same fate as his parents.
Ron stopped pretending to eat. He sat there, still, hand tight around his fork.
"I wonder if there's anything that family wouldn't do to get a bit more money. Hey, Weasley, if I gave you a knut would you lick my shoes clean?"
Raucous laughter.
Ron dropped his fork and stood.
"Ron." Harry's voice was sharp.
Ron looked down at him, his eyes hardly focusing through the anger.
"You know it's what he wants."
Ron turned a dark gaze to the Slytherin table.
Malfoy laughed loudly. "Keep thinking it over. Maybe I'll give you two knuts if you do a good enough job."
Harry gazed at him steadily.
Ron looked down at him, then slowly and stiffly sat.
"What's wrong?" Malfoy didn't give up. "Potter offer you more to stay there and keep pretending to be his friend?"
Ron's head snapped up at that.
Harry answered fast. "Some of us don't have to buy friends, Malfoy."
"No? I guess you can just rent him cheap, can't you? Only until the school year is up."
"Harry." Ron's voice was soft.
"Forget it. Who cares what he thinks, anyway?"
"I figured with that stash your parents left you you could afford at least a decent friend. Not secondhand trash like him."
Ron growled lowly.
"If you pay him a little more can he stop making a fool of himself in Potions?"
"Let's just go," Harry dropped his fork.
"No." Ron's voice was sharp. "This is our room as much as it is theirs."
It seemed to be unnecessary at any rate. Malfoy mentioning the scenes in Snape's class had them content to finish breakfast pretending to vomit and melt.
Ron sat there stiffly and listened to it, his face red.
When they finally got up to go to class, Harry wondered why Ron was so insistent that they stay. He hadn't eaten a single bite.
***
Draco Malfoy was bored.
Bored of his stupid brainless friends in Slytherin. Bored of sucking up to Snape, of putting easy spells on stupid first years, bored of trying to find ways of making Harry bloody Potter look bad.
He was even bored, already, of Quidditch. He was starting to regret worming his way onto the team.
He was bored of Hogwarts. They weren't teaching the students hardly anything yet. Stupid spells and bloody pointless potions that didn't even do anything fun.
He was bored of his position there in the Slytherin common rooms, sitting with Crabbe and Goyle and staring at their stupid brainless faces as they laughed at his jokes that they didn't understand.
He needed a project.
Something interesting. Something unusual. Something subtle. Something that could end with a bang that no one would be able to predict.
But what?
The bell for the evening meal rang out solemnly, and he sighed as he stood and led the way out of the common room and up the stairs.
Hogwarts was just too dull. He had been there all of one year, and now the first three months of this term, and the entire thing was already stagnant. He knew everyone, down to what they would most likely say in any situation.
He still got mild enjoyment out of tormenting Potter, but he did it by rote now. He knew what Potter's indignant little response to him would be before he even said anything. And Potter's little crew of tagalongs…
He spotted them right off when he got into the dining hall. Already sitting, orderly. Prim and proper and dutiful.
Potter and his rat Weasley seemed to be in good moods now. Recovered from their little humiliations at breakfast. Potter was listening to his friends talk quietly, and he was smiling.
Normally that would have led to Draco going straight over and doing something quick to wipe all their smiles away.
Boring. Fun, but boring. He had already done it twice that day.
He headed for Slytherin's table slowly.
Potter. He wasn't sure why Harry Potter got under his skin the way he did. His upright priggish behavior, his fame. He saved the entire bloody school the year before, which no one was about to let anyone forget.
Draco was going to rule the school by seventh year. No mistake about that. And Harry Potter was going to fight him the whole way.
He turned suddenly and let his pack of Slytherin go on around him.
And he made his way to Gryffindor's table, an idea came to him suddenly. He put a smile on his face. Not his usual smirk. No. A nice, friendly smile that could have come from the faces of any of those Gryffindor ponces.
Potter saw him coming, of course, and his own smile vanished.
Good.
But Draco didn't want the usual exchange this time. Too boring. He wanted something new. And since Potter was too bloody predictable, it was up to Draco to change the way this meeting would go.
He kept his smile bright and cheerful. "Potter."
"Malfoy." Potter was, as usual, tightlipped and suspicious.
The bit by his side, Hermione, sat up straight and pursed her lips and stared at him as though the powers of priggishness would send him running.
He smiled at her with a nod. "Hermione. You look lovely today."
Her mouth dropped open, but she closed it fast. Couldn't look as though she was caught unawares by anything.
And there, twisting in his seat to face Draco, glared the Weasley brat.
Draco had to fight to keep the automatic smirk from forming. He hated the Weasleys almost as much as he hated Potter. They were no threat to him, though. "Ron. How are you?"
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Weasley's voice was low. A little guard dog growling because his beloved master was in danger.
He made a pathetic bodyguard, but Draco went right on smiling. "Just thought I'd say hullo. Pleasant day and all. Have a good dinner." He nodded his goodbye and turned on his heel, heading back to his table.
When his back was to them he let the smirk come out. Why had he never thought of that before? Even his own actions were so predictable these days. A little switch in the program was just what was needed.
Indeed, when he sat at his spot for dinner, he glanced over to see three pairs of eyes still glaring at him.
He waved at them and laughed to himself as they turned away fast.
It hadn't been as instantly satisfying as watching Potter go pale in anger, or the Weasley boy turn as red as his hair. But it was fun.
And it would torment them, he knew. There was nothing more frustrating to a sanctimonious ponce like Potter than when his enemies started behaving themselves through no will of his own.
He turned to his boys and let their usual conversations flow over him, and he thought about it.
***
"What in the world was that all about?" Ron turned back in his chair, frowning at his friends.
Harry shook his head, looking after Malfoy with brow furrowed. "I'm not sure."
"He's planning something. You can bet on that." Hermione was watching him go as well. "He's just trying to get us to react."
"By saying hello?" Harry seemed dubious.
"Wouldn't put anything past Malfoy." Ron followed their eyes and watched Draco sit at his table.
Draco glanced over and wiggled his fingers at them in a wave. That odd smile was still on his face.
Ron looked away, feeling a blush creep up inexplicably. If Draco was just trying to get to them, it had worked. He himself wanted nothing more than to go over there and demand Draco give up whatever scheme this was.
Still, Harry was right to wonder. There was something odd about it.
"--and if I were Malfoy, it's just what I would do," Hermione was finishing with some theory. "Just ignore him."
Harry didn't look convinced by whatever her argument had been, but he turned back to his plate without a word.
***
Ron couldn't help a sigh of relief as they filed out of their Potions class for the day.
"Well," Harry seemed to echo his feeling. "That was almost pleasant."
Pleasant it wasn't, of course. It could never be with Snape practically hissing at them whenever he saw them, and Malfoy and his cronies there to…
Well, no. Come to think of it, Malfoy hadn't really done much of anything to them. He hadn't even looked their way for most of the class.
Strange, that.
"I hear that Professor Dumbledore gave Snape a warning about you, Ron."
"A warning?" Harry looked to Hermione incredulously.
"Just about what he'd been doing the last few classes. Snape isn't allowed to use students to demonstrate any dangerous potions anymore."
"Well. Something good came out of it after all." Harry smiled at that.
Ron decided to speak up. "You notice something odd about Malfoy?"
Hermione reached up to impatiently push her hair out of her face. "Of course. He's really starting to bother me, Harry."
"Why? He's been leaving us alone."
"Exactly! There's something going on. He's planning something, and we're not going to like it, whatever it is."
"Maybe he's just tired of bothering us."
She raised her eyebrows and stared at him.
Harry shrugged. "Well. It could be. What could he be planning that involves him being nice to us?"
"What other reason does he have to be nice?"
Ron looked back and forth between them. His brow furrowed. Something about the way they talked about it bothered him, and he wasn't sure why.
What was odd was that he felt no urge to speak up. Normally he would have been right there with Hermione, arguing that Malfoy was a slime and couldn't possibly be up to any good.
Instead he just stayed quiet and listened, and wondered.
***
Draco grabbed his books and started for the door.
Potter and his little friends had just left. He had caught each of them looking to him several times during the class.
They were bothered all right. Even more than when Draco spent his time calling them names and glaring at them.
He could keep up the smiling and the silence in class and probably drive them into having nervous breakdowns or something.
But that would take too long.
Still. It was amusing.
***
Draco checked himself in the mirror one last time before leaving the changing room to head to the field.
He hated this bloody team. How much good time was he wasting practicing out on the field when he could be making real progress towards psyching out Gryffindor's seeker off the field?
But he went; there was no way he would do anything to get thrown off the team. Not when he got to batter Potter so badly during every game.
He was a minute or two late, and the rest of his team was already on the field.
But that wasn't what caught his eye.
Gryffindor must have had the field right before them. There they were, on the sidelines, wiping sweat off their faces and flapping their mouths in excited, inane chatter.
And there was Potter himself, flushed red with exertion and bowing his head as he received pats on the back from his teammates.
Soaking up some compliment, no doubt, in that humiliating, humble way he did.
It was enough to make a decent person ill.
Draco looked around the field, wondering…
And yes, of course, there was Weasley. Granger was nowhere in sight, but that wasn't odd. She actually seemed to have some life of her own outside of Potter's. That life was spent entirely in the library, of course, but it was something. Not Weasley. He didn't even pretend to have something better to do than follow Potter around and watch his boring practice.
Draco thought about what Snape said. Get Weasley out of the way.
But Weasley hated him far too much to ever fall prey to some tactic to separate him and Potter.
Unless…
Unless Weasley learned not to hate him at all.
Draco ignored his team for the moment, changing direction and heading towards where Weasley sat, waiting for Potter to be dismissed. "Afternoon," he called out with forced cheer.
Weasley's eyes went right to him, and he tensed. "Malfoy."
Draco went into the stand and approached him at a level lower than he was sitting. "How was the practice?"
"Splendid," Weasley answered flatly.
Draco grinned. "I look forward to giving them a good game this week, at least."
Weasley's brow furrowed. He stared at Draco as if trying to puzzle him out.
Keep trying, Draco thought to himself gleefully. There is no possible way you're even close to smart enough.
The thought caught him, and he put it aside to ponder later.
"Well, I'd better get to it." He smiled at Weasley, and even tapped him lightly on the shoulder as he past. "See you around."
Weasley watched him go, that same stupid expression on his face.
Must be why he was always hanging around Potter, Draco mused. He needed someone there who could figure things out for him.
There was so much potential there, it made Draco actually laugh out loud as he climbed on his Nimbus and joined the rest of his team.
***
Potter himself was impossible to get to. The professors all kept their eyes on him closely. His friends were always there to look out for him. Even if Weasley and Granger weren't around, the whole Gryffindor house was protective of its most important member.
Potter himself, Draco knew, wasn't as pomp as his fame would have them think. He was a sort of sad little boy, in Draco's eyes. Pathetic, yes. He sincerely cared about those two rejects he had become friends with. And Snape was right -- he needed them.
And maybe that meant that the best way to get to Potter wasn't by going after Potter at all.
So, there it was. His project. Everyone was expecting Draco to go after Potter. They wouldn't think to look for anything else.
And with all eyes on Harry, anyone else was easy prey.
Granger was out, of course. She wasn't nearly the bigger threat. Besides, Draco didn't know how Potter put up with her attitude, but he wasn't about to do it himself. He'd have to chase her down to the library all the time, and he liked to avoid that stuffy bloody room as much as possible.
So. Weasley.
It was almost simple, but unusual enough to be interesting. Weasley was…well, he was a Weasley, first of all, which gave Draco plenty of ammo. He wasn't nearly as intelligent as his two friends, which was another plus.
Draco had a gift. He assumed he inherited it from his father. He had always been able to understand people. He could tell things about every one of the students in his class the first day he'd met them. Once he learned a little about their history, he could tell practically all he needed to know about them.
Normally it was his habit to use that talent to make sure those other kids knew who was in charge. He was the head of his class, and if they didn't know it he would make them know it. And he wasn't sure how he did it, but he instinctively knew what to go after with each student. He knew what words to say and what fears to play on to get them either on his side, or so cowed they wouldn't dare stand up to him.
Potter was one he hadn't gotten to, but he was saving some of his ammunition where Potter was concerned. Of course he knew all about Potter's family, his dull, mean Muggle aunt and uncle, how Harry cried like a stupid girl over his real parents. He knew it, and would use it sometime, when he really needed it.
Still. With his abilities to read into people, Weasley would be a piece of cake. He was only an unremarkable kid in a family full of them. He was no one special. Draco could tell when he first laid eyes on Ron Weasley -- it radiated from him. No One Special. Not at home, not in class, and certainly not compared to his friends. No special talents, no real intelligence. He was born to be a tagalong. He wasn't even especially fair-skinned and bright-eyed, as all kids their age were supposed to be. He was sort of ruddy and plain.
It was all too perfect.
Potter, of course, honestly cared about the boy for some strange reason. Which was the only thing that made Weasley interesting enough for Draco to waste his time on.
So. His project. It was clear and easy and all he had to do was get it started.
***
Ron studied his pieces for a moment, thoughtful.
Harry sat back and watched. He was going to lose anyway. He always did when he played Ron.
Still. It relaxed him to play with his best friend. He liked watching Ron play, because it was one thing that Ron knew he was good at. He was confident when he moved his pieces, and there wasn't much else he was confident at.
Chess for Ron was like Quidditch to Harry. Despite everyone telling Harry how brilliant and wonderful he must be to have been the Boy Who Lived, the only thing he actually felt brilliant at was Quidditch.
Ron moved suddenly, sliding his knight with a grin on his face.
Harry was doomed. He looked down at the board and watched the chess pieces go into motion.
The whole fun of Wizard Chess was watching the pieces cream each other. Hermione seemed to think it was barbaric, but Harry thought it made the game much more interesting.
Ron's chess set was old, of course, like everything else he had. It had belonged to a grandfather before Ron had gotten it, and that grandfather may even have inherited it from someone.
The pieces didn't move as fast as the newer models, and the deaths were much less spectacular.
Harry watched as his thoughts were confirmed: Ron's knight reached its destination, where one of Harry's rooks stood, and came to life. The horse reared back with a whinny that sounded pained.
And then it flopped over onto its side.
Harry was taken aback. "Is that supposed to happen?"
Ron's smile vanished. "Of course it isn't supposed to happen!' He reached out and grabbed the knight and set it back upright. "Come on, you."
The horse made a pathetic noise and went back to the rook. This time it just lifted one of its front legs and gave the rook a nudge.
The rook, looking as tired and old as the rest of them, accepted that as his death and went limping off the board.
"Oh, come on!" Ron slammed his hand down on the table. "Stupid old bloody set. Forget it!" He stood and abandoned the game in disgust.
The white side, which Ron had been playing, gave a great sigh of relief and slumped where they stood.
Harry frowned down at them and gathered them all quickly into the thread-bare little sack Ron kept them in.
He went to where Ron was sitting and fuming. "Doesn't really matter, does it? You'd have slaughtered me anyway." He stretched the bag out to him.
Ron snatched it from him. "Not the point, is it? They're useless now." He dropped the bag on the floor like it was trash. "Not like I can get a repair kit, or a new set." He blew out a sigh explosively. "Forget it. Stupid game anyway."
Harry frowned. If he had his way he would sneak right out to Hogsmeade and get Ron a brand new set. They weren't that expensive, really.
But Ron would never take it. He was extremely sensitive about how poor his family was, and though now and then he erupted in anger that he never had anything decent, he would be humiliated if Harry bought him anything.
Maybe for Christmas, Harry thought to himself with a sigh. Ron would still protest that it was too expensive a gift, but it wouldn't be as bad.
***
Ron careened out of the bathroom as the bells for lunch rang. Late again. It didn't much bother him to be late for class, but late for a meal? Entirely different.
He was charging along so fast that he only caught a glimpse of black and blonde at his side before he rammed his shoulder into something and went sprawling in one direction. He hit the ground hard, one wrist twisting sharply as he tried to catch himself.
Unpleasant laughter rang out over his head, and Ron lay there for a moment wishing he could just pull his robe over him and disappear. He recognized that laughter.
He rolled over onto his back; it wasn't good to leave himself utterly defenseless. His wrist throbbed painfully.
Sure enough. On the ground, knocked the other way by the force of Ron's blow, sat Draco Malfoy. His mouth was twisted downwards sharply, and his eyes were on Ron.
Above him stood his lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle. They were holding each other in their laughter, looking from Ron to Draco in anticipation.
Malfoy got up slowly, dusting off his slacks. He shot a glare towards his two friends. "Think it's funny, do you?"
They stopped laughing instantly.
Ron swallowed, sitting himself up with the one hand that didn't hurt. Malfoy's strange niceness the last couple of days aside, he was going to make Ron hurt for this one. And Ron's wand was still broken, his friends nowhere in sight. Not to mention that he might kind of deserve it for being so careless. He had slammed into Malfoy. It was his fault.
A flash of pain went up his arm, and he grabbed his wrist with his good hand. He breathed in sharply, but didn't react beyond that. Never paid to show a snake where your weaknesses were, after all.
Though sometimes he got the feeling that Draco Malfoy knew every one of his weaknesses already.
Malfoy stood for a moment, all eyes on him, and looked from his friends to Ron.
The silence became awkward, and Crabbe cleared his throat. "Careless today, Weasel. Someone should teach you to watch where you're going."
"Crabbe." Malfoy's voice was quiet and flat.
Crabbe shut up instantly and turned to him, waiting.
Ron got to his knees awkwardly, holding his injured hand.
Malfoy came towards him and crouched before he could get up. His eyes glinted silver in the dim light of the halls. He stretched a hand out.
Ron blinked at it, waiting for the smack or the spell words or whatever was about to happen.
"Up you come," Malfoy said softly, motioning with his hand.
Ron frowned, but after a moment he took Malfoy's hand with his uninjured one and let Malfoy help him to his feet.
Malfoy saw the way Ron kept his other hand close to his chest. "Hurt yourself, did you?"
Ron looked down at his hand stupidly for a moment before shaking his head. "No. I'm alright. I…uh. Sorry. About that."
Malfoy hesitated, and then glanced back to where Crabbe and Goyle stood gawking at them. "Get to lunch," he ordered them tersely.
They hesitated, but a moment later started off down the hall. They looked back more than one time.
Malfoy turned back to Ron. "Now. We'd better have you off to the hospital wing."
Ron gaped at him, but shook his head again. "I'm alright. Really."
Malfoy cocked his head. "You are not, Ron Weasley. Lunch can wait for us to check on that hand of yours."
Ron wasn't quite sure what to think of anything at all, so he let Malfoy take his arm and lead him off the other direction.
He watched the halls pass and corners turn, and eventually he turned to look at Malfoy's profile. "Are you taking me somewhere deserted so you can kill me?" he asked with genuine curiosity.
Malfoy glanced over at him, and then suddenly stopped. A shadow seemed to cross his face, and he nodded to himself and released Ron's arm. "I can…I know you don't trust me. I can go and get Potter for you if you'd like." He backed up a step. His eyes seemed to hold a shadow of hurt.
Ron didn't know exactly what to say. He stood there for a minute dumbly and let Malfoy turn his back. "Uh."
Malfoy spoke softly. "I'm sure you know where you're going. Weasley." He added the name almost as an afterthought, injecting contempt into his voice that sounded more like his normal tone.
Ron watched him go. Funny thing was, he almost wanted to speak up and stop him. He felt for a moment like he had actually hurt Draco Malfoy's feelings.
Amazing, because an hour ago he could have sworn Malfoy had absolutely no feelings to hurt.
***
Draco cursed to himself under his breath as he headed back towards the dining hall.
Not a bad start all in all, but damn that Weasley. Draco was going to have bruises later because he took the fall like that.
Just his luck to choose some careless git to make nice to. And for a thin little nothing Weasley, Ron could hit like a bludger.
He shook out the arm Weasley had slammed into, grimacing.
Still, not a bad day. That look on Weasley's face as Draco left had said it all. He felt guilty. Already. Draco hadn't done much of anything yet and he already had Weasley ready to eat out of his hand.
He smiled to himself grimly and headed off to get himself some lunch.
***
"Are you alright, Ron?"
Ron looked up from his book, more than happy for the distraction from studying.
Harry was watching him. He leaned in, lowering his voice so not to disturb the other students around them. "Is something wrong with your hand? You don't usually use your left so much."
Of course Harry noticed. Harry noticed most everything. Ron shrugged. "I fell. Pomfrey said it was hardly a sprain at all."
"Is that why you missed lunch?"
Ron nodded. He hesitated, wondering if he should tell Harry about the odd run-in with Malfoy.
"Is something wrong?"
"No. I…Harry." He bit his lip, thinking over his words. "Never mind."
"What is it, Ron?"
"Nothing." Ron smiled and nodded at his book. "Guess I just don't want to go back to reading."
Harry grinned and shut his book firmly. "Want to go out to the field and practice some flying?"
Ron slammed his book shut and jumped out of his seat.
***
Draco hesitated in the doorway to the classroom.
Goyle and Crabbe sat there, same as always. On the other side of the class sat Potter's little group.
He waited in the doorway for a minute. He stared at Potter's group, at Weasley, and counted down the seconds.
Granger saw him first. She rolled her eyes automatically and looked away from him, her nose in the air.
Self-righteous wench. Draco kept his eyes on the back of Weasley's red head.
Sure enough, she looked back a moment later. She leaned in to Potter and Weasley and said something quietly.
Potter's eyes went right to Draco. Something challenging was in them, as expected.
Just like Potter. The good little angel was the darling of Hogwarts, yet one look from Draco and everyone's sweetheart was ready to fight.
Such a hostile little boy, Draco thought with a smile.
Finally Ron turned his head slowly and looked at him.
Draco met his eyes for the briefest second, then dropped his head and slunk over to his usual seat.
He made a point not to look at that side of the room for the rest of class.
***
Hermione looked up with a frown as loud voices interrupted the silence of the library. "Oh, God."
Ron and Harry followed her gaze and saw Malfoy and his loud-mouthed friends coming in.
The three of them made their way around the tables, with Crabbe and Goyle deliberately smacking the backs of various Gryffindors and Ravenclaws as they passed.
Harry watched as the group approached his table, and tensed.
He saw something unusual, though.
Instead of sneering or smirking or making any of his usual faces, Draco looked down at them, at Ron really, and just nodded his head in greeting.
Crabbe's big arm swung around as he followed Draco, and it smacked into Ron's back. He snickered.
Draco turned around instantly. "Cut it out." His voice was low.
Crabbe and Goyle stopped in their tracks, blinking surprised eyes at him.
Draco just rolled his eyes. "Come on."
They left and went deep into the rows of books behind Harry's table.
Harry frowned after them. "That was weird." He glanced at Ron. "I admit it now. Hermione's right -- I think Malfoy may actually be up to something."
But, oddly enough, Ron didn't speak his agreement. He just looked past them to where Malfoy had disappeared. He was rubbing his right wrist absently.
