Draco sighed and rolled over onto his side, staring out at nothing.
It was dark in the Slytherin dorms. No light seemed to come through from anywhere. But he caught sight of the darker outline of the small trinket that sat on the table by his bed.
Ron's chess piece.
He wasn't sure why he hung onto it. He should have tossed it out before anyone had a chance to see it.
Still. Gift from Ron aside, he actually liked it. He liked that someone thought of him when they saw it -- sleek and important and powerful, and the head of the game. And what was it Ron had said? It could move however it wanted. Do whatever it wanted.
Draco had boasted to have that kind of freedom. But it really wasn't true, was it? With Slytherin ready to turn on him if he talked to the wrong sort, and the professors all shielding their precious Potter from him. His father ready to disapprove everything he did.
Draco could do whatever he wanted, unless what he wanted was to be anything but what he was.
Strange. Luckily for him, he had no interest in being some goody-goody Gryffindor licking at Potter's shoes.
Still. He was angry over his mates from Slytherin cornering him and threatening to hurt him if he kept talking to Ron.
He could drop Ron on a dime, of course. That had been the plan from the start. He was going to drop him, and he was going to make sure the fall came hard.
But he wasn't ready yet. And damn them for trying to force him to make his move before he wanted to. He was going to do it right, and make it hurt.
His eyes stayed on the queen, though, shimmering white marble in the darkness.
And Ron's face, grinning and bloody. Coming to his rescue like Draco had asked him to or something. Like Draco wanted his help.
Draco wasn't Potter. He didn't need Ron jumping in front of him to shield him from danger.
But there he'd been, as natural as anything.
Draco shut his eyes and rolled over the other way. Stupid chess piece.
Stupid Weasley.
***
Ron was grinning when Draco grabbed him and swung him bodily into the open door of the same shut-up classroom they'd met in before.
Draco glanced up and down the hall to make sure no one important was around, and then shut them into the room.
Ron laughed and came to him. "We've really got to stop meeting like this."
"You know any other way to do it?"
Ron leaned over, but hesitated. "You know, Draco…"
"Hmm?" Draco was actually impatient. Not that he enjoyed the foolish kisses or touching of these little encounters. No. The sooner they got to it, the sooner he'd get out.
Ron hovered inches away, his eyes moving all over Draco's face. "What do you think would happen if I was to come to you in the middle of dinner tonight…" He leaned in and pressed a light, quick kiss on Draco's mouth. "And do that?"
Draco huffed with amusement, even as he protested the briefness of the contact. He grabbed Ron's shirt to make sure he stayed close. "I think neither of us would leave the dining hall alive."
Ron leaned back as Draco tried to pull him in. "It would almost be worth it, though, wouldn't it? Imagine the stares."
Draco pulled him in again, but again Ron drew back, mischief in his eyes. Draco smiled at his stubbornness before remembering that he didn't enjoy this at all. "Potter would probably drop into a dead faint."
Ron laughed quietly, and Draco felt the breath of it on his face. "Crabbe and Goyle would explode, I think. Just combust right there by their plates."
"Would you just get over here?" Draco tugged him in yet again.
Ron obeyed, but still kept himself away by barely an inch. The tip of his nose brushed Draco's, and he moved a hand slowly down Draco's arm. "Someone would actually get the idea you liked me, Malfoy."
Draco gave up, sagging back against the door. He ran his eyes over Ron's lanky form lazily. "Well. Someone would be wrong."
"Oh?" Ron grinned, moving in until he was pressed into Draco, who was pressed into the door. "I don't believe you."
Draco's response was cut off as Ron finally caught his lips and settled into a warm kiss.
Draco sighed against his mouth, finally relaxing.
Ron's hands appeared on the door by either side of his head.
Draco reached up unconsciously and ran a hand up and down his arm, then down his back.
Ron made a muffled sound against his lips, and it felt like he was smiling.
Draco looped his hand around Ron's waist and tugged him harder against him.
The thought suddenly appeared at the back of his mind -- Ron didn't believe him. When he said someone would be wrong if they thought Draco actually liked Ron. Ron hadn't believed it for a second.
He had done it. Ron had no more doubts, not about Draco. He finally fully believed that Draco was sincere in his feelings.
Draco was done. All that was left was to finish it off. He didn't have to deal with this anymore, this closed-room sneaking around; this kissing and touching that had come out of nowhere.
He could stop.
Ron's tongue slid between his lips and dipped into his mouth.
Draco pulled him even closer.
***
"Slytherin are all bad, aren't they?"
Harry looked up. "What?"
Ron ignored Hermione's long-suffering sigh that said they were disturbing her reading. He peered thoughtfully at Harry. "Slytherin. It's like a whole house full of mean wizards who may end up going bad someday. And Snape's in charge -- let's face it, he isn't the nicest professor in the school."
Harry nodded slowly. "So?"
"So. It's odd, isn't it? Like the school knows there are all these mean wizards, and doesn't do anything about it. They're practically encouraging it, aren't they?"
Hermione spoke up instantly. "I don't see how putting all the snakes in one house is encouraging anything."
"Well." Ron nodded at Harry. "What if you had ended up in Slytherin?"
Harry shuddered. He still remembered vividly the long minute his first day at Hogwarts when he had pleaded with the sorting hat not to put him into Slytherin.
Ron saw the shudder and waved a hand in triumph. "See? It's as if you knew that if you were in Slytherin, you would go bad. So why would they have a house like that?"
"Harry wouldn't go bad no matter what house he was in," Hermione stated with certainty.
But it was certainty Harry didn't feel himself, so he didn't dismiss Ron that easily.
Ron bit at his lip thoughtfully. "Take Draco for example."
Hermione rolled her eyes and pointedly stuck her nose back in her book.
Ron ignored her. "He's got this awful father and this awful name. His one chance to get away from it, you would think, is going off to school to learn. But they don't bother thinking that they could maybe teach him to be less awful. They just put him in the awful group and let it be."
Harry frowned. "You think Malfoy would be different by now just by being in a different house?"
Ron shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. But there's good in him, and he can't show it with those louts he's with all the time in Slytherin. So maybe if he spends all his school years with them he'll learn never to show it at all." He breathed out in a sigh. "Oh, I don't know. They know what they're doing here, after all. But how can anyone expect him to be nice when the professors are practically telling him it's his job to be mean?"
"Maybe…maybe it is."
Ron frowned at that.
Harry thought back. "That's what the sorting hat is for, right? To see where people really belong."
"And you almost got put into Slytherin," Ron pointed out. "Does that mean you belong there?"
"Of course not," Hermione declared indignantly, before going back to pretending she wasn't listening.
Ron nodded. "See? Even though you have some of those things that it takes to be in Slytherin, you're still in Gryffindor. And maybe even though he's in Slytherin he has some of the things it takes to be with us. But this house brings out your good side, and that one brings out his bad side."
Harry smiled at that thinly. "Sounds as if you think Malfoy and I really aren't that different."
Ron thought about it, and then nodded. "You really aren't."
"That's a horrible thing to say!" Hermione stopped pretending to be studying long enough to glare at Ron and pat Harry's arm as if to console him.
But Harry knew Ron didn't mean it as an insult.
Which bothered him a lot more than the remark itself.
***
"You know…"
Draco didn't move from his sprawl on the grass staring up into the high stands of the Quidditch field. "Hmmm?"
Ron moved around beside him, shifting. "Sometimes I listen to my silly little sister and her friends going on about the boys here, and they sigh and coo and talk about stupid things like holding hands and how sweet this or that would be. And a lot of the things they go on about are stuff like this."
Draco glanced over.
Ron was on his side, head in his hand, looking down at him. "Lying in the grass and watching the clouds. I think you're all romantic inside, Draco."
Draco laughed at that. "Oh, definitely. As romantic as they come." He rolled his eyes and looked back at the sky. "Those stupid girls wouldn't know what to do if they ever found themselves in the grass with some boy."
"And we do? Let's face it, Draco. We're hardly old and experienced ourselves. Now to hear my older brothers talk…" He laughed suddenly. "Well, I don't think I'm anywhere near ready for all that. And it sounds so messy."
Draco glanced over, eyebrows raised.
Ron waved a hand. "Forget it. Still, there's something to be said for all this, isn't there? This lying in the grass, and the kisses and all that stuff. It's nice."
"Come off it, Ron. Next thing you're really going to start talking like a girl. All flowers and unicorns and love."
"Love." Ron repeated the word thoughtfully. "I suppose we're still too young for it."
Draco humphed his agreement. Stupid, the whole idea.
"I hope when we get older and find out what it really is…well, I hope it's a lot like this."
Draco laughed at that, then frowned and sat up. "Are you serious? You're honestly going to talk about love?"
Ron shrugged. His ears went pink, but that was all the embarrassment he showed. "You don't think this is something like what they mean when they talk about it? You and me here?"
"Ron…" Draco stared at him then got to his feet, suddenly needing a very quick exit away from all this. "I've got to go."
Ron frowned up at him, squinting in the sunlight. "What is it?"
"Nothing. I'm leaving. See you later."
Ron didn't say anything else, and didn't make a move to go after him.
Still, even though Ron didn't follow, Draco went fast to escape.
Escape what, he wasn't sure. But it, whatever it was, seemed to be following him all the way into the school and down to his dorms.
He wasn't sure he'd gotten away quick enough.
***
Ron sighed and lay back down in the grass. His hands went behind his head, and he looked up at the clouds.
Draco. There was so much going on in that poor boy's head. More than probably even Draco knew.
Things were never as simple as they were made out to be. Ron knew that. Nothing was ever cut and dry. And someone like Draco changing his whole attitude one day for no good reason was definitely not as easy as it sounded.
He supposed that Harry's voice was always in the back of his mind, warning him. Reminding him of the Draco that had tormented them so much already, and the cruelty he was capable of. Telling Ron to watch out.
Ron knew he should take that advice. Harry was smarter than him, and he definitely knew more about evil people.
Draco had probably run away from him just then because Ron had gone too far. Bought into the fantasy a little too much. Used a word like love, which scared Draco to death even though Ron hadn't specifically said he was in love with him.
He couldn't say that. Because he wasn't sure. Nothing was so easy as all that. He wasn't sure how Draco really felt, and he certainly wasn't sure how he felt.
Every time Draco asked Ron why he was trying to be Draco's friend at the risk of angering Harry and Hermione, Ron had never had a decent answer.
Ron didn't know what to make of anything at all, really.
He did know that the moment Draco's face had creased in that panicked frown, the moment Draco stood up and left him at almost a run, a deep fear suddenly rose up inside him. His stomach twisted with it, his heart beat a little harder.
He had the horrible feeling that he'd made the wrong choice in all this. And he wasn't even sure how he felt about that.
***
Draco cursed to himself and everyone he passed, and barked the password at the picture in front of his dorm to get the door open.
He tromped through the common room, not looking at anyone, and down the hall past his dorm. He glanced in and his eyes instantly caught on that chess piece there by his bed.
He cursed a little louder and kept going, heading for the restrooms.
When he was washing up he looked at himself in the mirror, needing a bit of confirmation.
Yes, he was still the same. Still Draco Malfoy. There was still that same coldness in his eyes that his father had raised him to have.
Nothing had changed.
He laughed to himself suddenly, harshly, wondering why something would.
Just because Ronald bloody Weasley started throwing around stupid ideas about love, that didn't mean anything for Draco.
It meant that this was turning out better than he thought. It meant that when he finished up his plan and told Ron, in front of the whole school hopefully, exactly what he thought of the pathetic Weasel, he would have that much more to laugh at. And Ron would be that much more hurt by it all.
There was no other way to go now, was there? It wasn't as if he wanted to keep spending time with Weasley. It wasn't like he needed to string the boy along and pretend he liked him.
No, he had been in this for one reason and one only. To hurt the boy who could hurt Potter. To get to Potter in a cruel way that no one could really even get back at him for. Potter could never get revenge for something like this.
Because by the time Draco was done, Weasley would be broken. And Potter could try it with Crabbe, Goyle, anyone he liked, and it wouldn't hurt Draco one single ounce.
He smiled at himself, and the look on his face in the mirror was cruel.
Anyway, it was Weasley's own fault for being such a stupid git. For believing Draco even though every ounce of common sense said not to. Even though his friends told him Draco was lying and playing some trick.
It was Weasley's fault for those kisses, as well. Draco never thought about trying anything like that with him -- it was Ron. All Ron.
Although…
Well, maybe it had been Draco that started it. But that was different. It was some stupid little peck on the mouth. He just did it because he wasn't sure how else to make his point. Weasley was the one who got insane with it and started groping him in dark corners.
No. Actually…
But so what? Weasley was the one who had to bring up love, and pretend like this was going somewhere. And there could be no argument for that. Ron was the one enjoying it.
The only enjoyment Draco got out of all this was picturing Ron's face when he finally told him the truth.
It was time to finish this. He was Draco Malfoy, he wasn't some sweet little boy who frolicked in fields with mates holding hands and staring at clouds. He was the son of Lucius Malfoy. He was Slytherin, he was…
He was who he had always been, and there was absolutely no room in that for Ron Weasley.
No, it was time to finish. To confront Ron, and through him deal a blow to Potter that Potter couldn't fight.
He looked at his reflection again, and was pleased to see the dark look in his eyes, the twist of his mouth that was so much like his father's.
He was going to do this, and he was going to enjoy it.
He turned and left the room, feeling his old self thrumming in him, loud and strong.
And then he went into his dorm, and Dumbledore was there.
He stopped dead for a minute. Dumbledore was sitting on his bed, and in his hand was the chess piece.
Draco lifted his chin high and set into the room. "Good evening, Professor." His father had reminded him time and again that it didn't pay to be impolite to the most powerful wizard in school, even if he was a Muggle-loving old hack.
Dumbledore blinked up at him through his spectacles. "Ahh. Mr. Malfoy. Do forgive me, I was taken by this little artifact you've acquired."
"It was a gift," Draco said, almost angrily. Of course Dumbledore would accuse him of stealing it.
"Why, certainly it was," Dumbledore said easily, to Draco's surprise. "Quite a nice one, at that. If I'm not mistaken, this is from McGonagall's set. I believe she told me last year that she gave it to young Ronald Weasley."
Draco moved around the bed to him, and had to resist the urge to pluck it out of his hand. "And he gave it to me."
"I was under the impression, from what the other professors say, that you two don't get along very well."
"We…" Draco pondered his answer. "Well, it was a present anyway. It's mine fair and square."
Dumbledore looked at him sharply, then laughed. "No one's going to take it from you, my boy." He set it down on Draco's bedside table and stood up.
Draco relaxed a little once the piece was out of Dumbledore's hand.
Dumbledore made his way to the door slowly, then glanced back. "It's an odd sort of present, though, don't you think? Considering what Mr. Weasley had to do to get it?"
Draco glanced over at the small white queen, then back at Dumbledore. "He had to win a game of chess. That's all."
"Why, no, not quite. I believe he had to let the game defeat him."
Draco frowned. "Everyone knows Potter won that game. How else would he--"
"Harry? Yes. But Mr. Weasley wasn't with him in the end. He had to be taken, to be sacrificed to the other team, so that Harry could move on." Dumbledore nodded over at the queen. "And that was the very piece that defeated him."
Draco frowned at his chess piece.
When he turned back to Dumbledore, the doorway was empty. The old man was gone.
Draco humphed to himself and sat on his bed. He lifted the chess piece and studied it.
Only later did he realize that Dumbledore had never given a reason for being there. Nothing besides talk of the chess queen.
