Harry caught Ron's eyes sidling over to Slytherin's table more than a few times at dinner that night.

He knew something was bothering his friend. He wasn't saying much, was picking at his food, and he kept looking over as if he expected to see something.

In his ear Hermione was going on and on about what she was learning from some obscure book she'd checked out of the restricted section of the library. Harry nodded now and then and made interested sounds, but he mostly kept his attention on Ron.

"You doing okay there, Ron?" It was Fred who ended up asking.

Ron glanced down the table at his brother. "Huh? Oh, yeah."

Harry could tell easily that he wasn't. Ron was…well, he wasn't exactly a thoughtful person. He was smart enough -- he and Harry got about the same grades the year before. And he was a whiz at chess, which took a lot of brains. But he didn't tend to sit there and lapse into his thoughts the way Harry did a lot of the time.

Harry met Ron's eyes as he turned away from his brother.

Ron raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Harry just nodded at him, frowning in response.

Ron shrugged, flashing a small smile to let Harry know that he was alright even if he was a little distracted.

Harry went back to his meal, satisfied. He could always talk to Ron later. Besides, he was trying not to make Ron feel too smothered by his worries -- Draco was getting as much time with Ron lately as he was, and whatever ideas Malfoy would be putting in Ron's head, Harry wasn't about to do anything to make Ron believe them.

***

Draco stood up, nodded for Crabbe and Goyle to follow.

Dinner had been uncomfortable. He could feel Ron's eyes on him the entire meal, almost, and to his surprise he actually had to stop himself from looking back and granting him a smile.

No. He didn't have to anymore. He already had Weasley reeled in.

He could have ended it right there. If he got up and started to leave alone, in the middle of the meal, Ron would have joined him. Put a hand on his shoulder and asked if he was okay.

And Draco could have shoved him off and told him in a very loud, very humiliating way just what he thought of Ron's hands being all over him. Just what he thought of Ron.

But.

He didn't. He stuck with Crabbe and Goyle and left when everyone else was filing out.

He did cast a look to where Ron still sat with Potter and his other friends. He could tell Ron was distracted, but he was smiling at whatever one of those idiotic twins was saying.

Draco had to stop himself from smiling again. And that made him angry enough at Weasley and his dumb grins that he turned his back and tromped out as fast as he could, not even making sure Crabbe and Goyle were behind him.

This thing had to end. Tomorrow.

***

Ron waved at Harry as he flew onto the field.

Harry saw him and waved back before turning his attention to Oliver Wood and his pre-practice pep talk.

Ron sat back and sighed to himself, enjoying the sun on his face.

Much better hanging around Harry's practice than sitting with Hermione in the library. At least there was sun, and some good Quidditch, though not as good as a real game.

He supposed he should be more than a little jealous, Harry being the star player and all. Quidditch had always been Ron's favorite sport, and Harry hadn't known a thing about it until even after he got on the team.

Still, it was hard to fault Harry. Despite his fame and money and everything, Harry really only got fun out of Quidditch. And he was good.

"Still hanging around watching these practices, eh?"

Ron glanced back at Draco. For some reason, he wasn't very surprised to see him there.

Draco moved alongside the seat Ron was sitting at, but kept his eyes on the field. There was something odd about his expression, something pinched and cool and determined.

Ron had the sudden feeling that he knew exactly what was about to happen.

"Kind of pathetic, Weasley."

He noted the use of his last name. "Do you think so?" he asked absently, watching Harry swoop as the team broke their talks to start practice.

Draco nodded out at the field. "Watching your dream go by without being a part of it? Your own brothers up there, your own best friend?" Draco smirked and glanced at Ron. "Even your dreams come secondhand, don't they? You just want the things your family has already done."

"Feels that way sometimes." Ron watched Harry. Harry was still hovering, watching for the snitch, and he was calling something out to Oliver. He looked happy out there.

Ron kept watching, hoping that maybe Draco would just go away without saying whatever it was he had come up to say.

"Weasley. Stairs. Let's talk for a minute."

Ron shook his head, turning finally to face Draco. "Just do it here."

Draco shrugged and took the seat beside Ron. He then hesitated, actually looking a little surprised. "Do what?"

Ron looked back out at the field. "You need me to tell you?"

"Maybe."

"Alright. You're here now because I actually started to trust you."

"What?"

Ron sighed. "I trust you. I believe what you say. I like you. I really…" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched his best friend. "It's too much for you. So you're here to get rid of me."

Draco frowned at him.

Ron looked over at him. "Tell me I'm wrong."

It was Draco's turn to look out at the field, to watch the players swooping around.

Ron smiled to himself. His stomach felt heavy. "You're the one that wanted to talk, Draco. So talk."

"You…" Draco grimaced. "I never asked you to trust me, Weasley."

Ron nodded. "You never did."

"Ron!" Harry swooped over them suddenly. He grinned down, windswept and flushed and obviously happy. So happy that he didn't even mind seeing Draco sitting there. "Wood says we're going for an extra hour today, so I can meet you later!"

Ron waved back without answering.

Harry swept over then back around. There was an edge to his smile. "Hi, Malfoy." With a grin, he flew off.

Draco sat up at that. His jaw tightened, and he got back that cold air he'd had when he first got there. He obviously wasn't pleased with Harry greeting him like he was getting used to him. "I am Draco Malfoy." He spoke softly, almost to himself, then turned to Ron. "My father is…I'm not…you couldn't have believed it all, Ron. Honestly, even you aren't that thick. Everyone knows not to trust me. I wouldn't even trust me."

"I guess I'm not as smart as you."

Draco tensed and stood up suddenly, turning and facing Ron. He folded his arms and stared down at him. "I'm doing you a favor here, Weasley."

Ron laughed. "What? Saving me from your horrible influence?"

"Don't be stupid."

Ron's laughter faded.

Draco smirked down at him. There was nothing but ice in his eyes. "You think you understand, but you obviously don't. One thing you're right about -- I'm ending this ridiculous joke. You did go too far. I was fine stringing you along when it was just fake smiles and stupid platitudes. But everything else? I'm not sick enough to keep it going."

Ron looked away, feeling something inside him start a warm sort of panicky feeling. "Some favor, Malfoy. Thanks."

Draco grinned. "Here's the favor, Weasley -- I'm telling you what I think about you right here, instead of in front of the entire school. I'm not going to bother letting them all know about your embarrassment of a life. They can figure it out on their own. And I'm sure they will."

Ron's eyes went out to the field, where Harry was gliding through the wind gracefully. "He was right." He didn't mean to say it out loud, but…he was stunned. Stupidly enough, he was actually shocked.

Harry had been right. The whole time.

Draco followed his gaze to Harry and raised his eyebrows. "He's not as brainless as I would have thought. Though he does consider you a friend, so he's obviously not exactly smart."

Ron looked up at him. He swallowed. "Tell me one thing. Before you start listing all my faults." His voice was surprisingly steady for all that he felt like he had swallowed that melting potion in Snape's class again.

Draco raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Who were you doing this for? Who were you trying to get to? Harry? My family? Your father?"

Draco laughed. "No one, Weasley. No one at all. I just wanted to see for myself if you could really be as pathetic as you seemed."

Ron nodded. His eyes lowered.

Draco reached out instantly and grabbed his chin, forcing his head back up. "You're even worse. You know that? You're going to sit there and listen to everything I have to say, because you're too miserable a git to get up and leave."

Ron reached up and carefully pried Draco's hand off of him. There was still pride flashing through him. But he didn't get up.

Draco smirked. "As for listing your faults. I'm not going to waste my breath. You already know what your faults are, don't you? Every single one of them."

"You said…"

Draco laughed. His eyes flashed with more sincere amusement than he had ever showed when being Ron's 'friend'. "If you believed a word I said, that's one more fault you should work on. Get it through your head, Weasley: it was a joke. You're a joke. You're so lost in the shadows of everyone else that you have absolutely nothing to show for yourself."

Ron flinched, and hated himself for showing that this was hurting.

Draco smiled coldly. "You should remember that, in case anyone else ever tries to convince you to be more than you are. It isn't possible, Weasley. There's nothing there. Even if I had been sincere in wanting to know you, I wouldn't have found a single thing there worth knowing." He laughed suddenly, harshly. "And this."

He reached out and grabbed Ron's chin again. He bent and right there, without even checking who might be watching, he kissed Ron, hard and fast and cruel. He pulled back with a sneer, pushed at Ron's face as he let him go.

He stayed close, meeting Ron's eyes. And then he laughed softly. "You're disgusting, Weasley. Even now you want more of that. And I can't stomach the feel of you anymore."

Ron swallowed again and looked away.

But Draco's voice crept in no matter where he looked. "You know what I think, Ron?" He spit out the name like it tasted bad. "I think you honestly love me. Do you?"

Ron bit back any sound in response. His eyes were burning now. He forced his hands into fists, reminding himself that he knew. He knew this would happen.

Didn't he?

Draco sounded practically gleeful even when Ron didn't answer. "I think you do. And that fits, too. You can go through the rest of your life knowing you gave your love to Draco Malfoy, the dirty Slytherin snake. You're second-hand now, Weasley, like everything you own. Except this, of course." Draco's hand snared Ron's robe and tugged it. "Keep that, if you like. A present, like everything else I've done for you."

Ron spoke before he could stop himself. His voice came out soft and weak, no doubt just as Draco expected. "You said I was special." He hated it, the way he sounded as pathetic as Draco thought he was.

Draco laughed. He crouched down, pushing his face in front of Ron's. He spoke firmly and deliberately. "I lied."

And then, mercifully, he stood. "You think about it. See if you don't agree with me next time I tell you what a sad sack you are. I'll see you around, Weasley. If you don't mind, I'm going back to Slytherin house. Have to wash you off me, but at least it's for the last time."

His footsteps carried him away quickly. Ron caught a last slight sound of laughter before he faded away.

He sat there and watched Harry fly, and thought about everything they had said to each other.

***

Draco made his triumphant entrance back into his dorm, looking around contentedly.

Done. Everything he set out for, he did. And now all that was left was to sit back and watch the fallout. Watch Weasley crawl, and Potter go mad with anger for having no way to stop it.

He laughed to himself as he went to his bed.

He picked up the queen he hadn't bothered to throw away yet, and he held it up.

White queen. By all rights, he supposed it should have been the black. Wasn't the bad side always playing black?

Still. He remembered what Dumbledore said and he smiled.

This was the very piece that defeated Ron before.

Maybe he would hold on to it. Maybe he would show it off now and then, whenever Ron would be there to see. And they would both know exactly what it meant.

Dangerous, the queen. Could move however she wanted. Do whatever. Win the game. Destroy all the pawns she had to.

He clenched his fist around it and smiled to himself.

And wondered why the smile felt forced.

***

Harry swooped down to the stands, beaming and holding the snitch lightly in his palm. "Did you see that catch? I think even Wood himself was…" He stopped and looked around.

Ron wasn't there. He and Malfoy were both gone.

But…

He frowned to himself and tucked the snitch into his robe. Practice was just about over, so it wouldn't be released again.

He landed his broom easily in the stands and climbed back a row to where Ron had been sitting.

His robe was still there.

Harry picked it up, glancing around in case Ron was still in sight. Then, when he couldn't see his friend, he turned back to the robe. He checked the label to be sure.

Ronald Weasley, in flowing golden script, right there on the inner label.

Harry frowned to himself.

***

The present. The robe. That beautiful black robe, warm and new and the right size and everything. How it felt, walking around without shame for once because his robe was just the same as everyone else's. Brand new and just for him. All his.

Draco hated him. The whole time, he hated him. What that gift was was what Ron had fought to avoid his entire life -- a handout that came from someone else's contempt of his life and his family.

He had worn it so proudly.

He gave Draco one of his most prized possessions -- his chess queen. It had been a present from McGonagall, a gift because he had been brave and smart for one time in his life, and maybe without him the school wouldn't have been saved like it was.

He loved that queen. Sure, he had a nightmare now and then where he saw it coming at him, towering over him before striking out the blow that knocked him out of the game for good. But still, he loved it.

He wondered what happened to it. Draco had probably thrown it out with the trash.

And everything else. Everything came to him with such clarity. He could remember entire conversations now. Conversations that would play themselves out time and again in his head, he knew, just to keep reminding him what a bloody great idiot he was.

The fight he thought he'd been stopping between Draco and those bullies in his house. Was it even a fight? Or had they known he was coming, and Draco wanted a chance to watch him get beaten without abandoning his little game?

His fights with Harry. Draco had come close to making Ron doubt his very best friend. He had accused Harry of things just because Draco told him they were true.

The kisses.

Ron remembered every one of those. The first couple of little pecks. The one night in the woods, lying in a place just like where he was now sitting. Grass tickling his ears and a root digging into his back, and Draco over him, warm on his face and hot in his mouth, his hands everywhere, uncertain and fun and exciting.

Disgusting. Draco thought it was -- he was -- disgusting. Draco had gone to his dorms after those nights and scrubbed the feel of Ron off of him.

Ron had gone back and lay on his bed and shut his eyes, and tried to feel it all over again.

And the very worst. Even worse than the rest of it.

Draco told him he was special. And he believed it.

Draco had been lying.

"Ron?"

Draco was lying. Which meant it wasn't the truth. Which left Ron…where?

"Ron?"

He looked up blankly at the sound of his name.

Towering above where he sat, a mountain of hair and beard and cloak looked straight down at him. "Ron Weasley, what on earth are yeh doin' out 'ere?"

Ron tried to smile, but nit was cold out there and his face felt numb. "Hullo, Hagrid."

Hagrid tutted and reached a large arm down to grab Ron and stand him up. "Shouldn't be this near the woods. Yeh know tha'. Let's get yeh back ter the school."

Panic filled him instantly. "No." He dug his feet in and didn't move when Hagrid tugged at him. "No."

Hagrid frowned down at him, baffled. "Is somethin' goin' on?" His eyes instantly went past the tree Ron had been leaning on into the woods beyond. "Harry ain't in them trees now, is he? You two 'aven't been gettin' yourselves into--"

"No. Harry's at school. I left him at practice."

"Oh. Well." Hagrid relaxed, then frowned down at him once more. "Tell yeh what. Why don' we get yeh into my house, and we can 'ave a nice talk about whatever's on yer mind."

Ron relaxed at that, nodding gratefully. "Thanks."

Hagrid smiled down at him, put a huge hand on Ron's shoulder, and steered him off.

***

Harry turned a page in his History of Magic book without even having looked at the last page. His eyes were on the doorway into the common room.

Hermione sighed beside him. In what might have been a first since he'd met her, she sat up suddenly and shut her book before he had a chance to say anything. "I think we should go looking."

Harry frowned. "I looked right after practice. Didn't see him anywhere. Even spotted Malfoy with his bodyguards. He didn't look particularly smug or anything, so I'm not sure at all what might have happened."

"But you're worried." She looked at him pointedly.

Harry waved around at the near-empty common room. "Well, he's not here."

That was a good argument in itself. Ron was always there. Always with one of them, unless he was trying to help Ginny with her studies, or wasting time hanging around Fred and George.

But the Weasleys had come and gone to bed, and there they were. Ron was nowhere to be found.

And Harry, though it wasn't really his style, was almost ready to go to Dumbledore and report him missing.

"So what do you want to do, Harry? Sit here all night and wait?"

Good point. Sitting and waiting was definitely not Harry's style. "Alright. Couldn't hurt to look around again."

But before they could get anywhere at all, the door to the dorm swung open and the familiar glass-rimmed eyes of the head of their house appeared. "Mr. Potter. Miss Granger."

"Professor McGonagall." Harry blinked his surprise.

"Come out here and speak to me, please."

Harry swallowed down fear. Ron missing, a surprise visit from McGonagall. Those two things together set his heart racing.

Still, he followed Hermione through the small door and out into the corridor. They faced McGonagall together.

Her usually stern face creased into a slight smile. "Where were you two rushing off to so late at night, anyway?"

Harry faced her bravely. "Just tell us. Is this about Ron?"

"Mr. Weasley." She sighed to herself. "I thought as much. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. I'd like both of you to go to bed. Things are always clearer in the light of day."

"But…Ron."

"I assure you, if Mr. Weasley was in any danger at all, I would tell you. Now please, back to your beds."

They exchanged glances, and Harry shrugged. He should have felt better -- obviously the teachers knew Ron was gone, and knew he wasn't in trouble.

But his stomach still flopped nervously, especially when he crawled into his bed and lay his head on his pillow and saw the one empty bunk in the room framed with moonlight from the window.

He just wanted to know what in the world was going on.