Pairing: Ron/Draco later, Ron/Hermione (hinted right now)

Rating: R (for later chapters, this is more PG or PG-13)

Spoilers: None.

Author's note: I forgot to mention that this WILL BE SLASH LATER. If you don't like SLASH, then don't read after chapter two, because IT WILL BE SLASH. SLASH. As in Ron. And Draco. Both boys. Having much fun together. If you catch my drift, and I'm throwing it pretty hard.

Thanks to Jaime, who keeps reading this blather.

THE DAILY PROPHET

Chapter 2

Porridge and Potions

"Caerius," muttered Crabbe, flicking the point of his wand at Draco, then swishing it to point directly at Ron. Suddenly, as if tripped by an invisible foot, Draco fell quite ungracefully on Ron, causing the redhead to spit every bit of milk he'd just gulped back out onto Hermione . Since she was in mid-sentence, she was not very happy, and repeatedly spat to get the milk out of her mouth.

"God, Ron! If you didn't want to hear what I had to say about the elves, you should've just said so!"

Ron turned his head and was eye-to-chest with Draco Malfoy, who looked as if he couldn't decide whether to run for his life, sneer, or blush to the tips of his hair. Ron stood abruptly, causing Draco to fall onto his backside, again ungracefully. "What the hell did you do that for?"

Draco scrambled to his feet. "I didn't do anything. I was just walking, and your abnormally large head knocked me over," he scowled.

Ron grabbed the front of Draco's now disheveled robes, and brought his arm back to prepare a serious punch. Once his fist was back, though, he suddenly realized there wasn't a Hermione holding his arm or robe. His head swiveled to the brunette, and he noticed she was using a napkin to dab milk out of her hair. She glanced up. "Don't let me stop you," she sniffed, apparently still angry that her long sob speech about elves had been interrupted.

Ron was miffed. He let go of Draco's robes, his confusion showing on his face as he looked toward Harry, who hadn't even looked up from his porridge, and was muttering things like "had the snitch" and "damn bloody gnomes". Ron wrinkled his brow in thought. Harry was getting stranger every day.

"Oi, are you going to hit me or not, Weasley?" Draco's drawl snapped Ron back to reality. The blonde was looking at his nails with great interest. "Make it fast, if you do, so I'll have time to wash your filth off before I go to lessons."

Throwing one last look at Hermione, who was now lecturing Harry on why he shouldn't hate "damn bloody gnomes" but respect them, Ron shook his head. "You're not worth it, Malfoy."

"What a surprise. A Weasley making a hasty retreat." Malfoy's triumphant smirk was so brilliant it could probably be seen across the Quidditch pitch. "Oh, well, come on," he motioned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Let's go to Potions. I don't plan to make Snape wait two hours like I did for you two last night, let's go."

Ron fumed as Draco walked out, flanked by his two huge fellow Slytherins. Why was Malfoy so bloody insufferable? And why on earth hadn't he punched him? It would have been worth it, even if the teachers were present and would probably give him a year's worth of detentions. So why hadn't he acted?

"I'm telling you, Harry, gnomes are people, too!" Hermione was saying indignantly, slamming her spoon into her porridge and sending a glob flying into the air. It landed on Seamus Finnigan's hair with a *splat*.

"Hey, you know, if you rearrange the letters of gnome, you get 'menog'," Harry said brightly. Hermione and Ron looked at each other. Ron spoke first.

"Hey, how many feet did you fall off your broom in that last Quidditch match?" he asked.

"Fifty!" Harry said brightly, and Hermione sighed.

"Maybe you should give up Quidditch, Harry, I think you knocked something loose," she said with concern.

Ron's attention to Harry waned as he thought more about Draco and how he hadn't beaten the Slytherin to a pulp. The truth was, he was starting to get really bored of Draco's constant verbal assaults. They were in seventh year, why on earth couldn't the pointy-faced git just grow up? Ron decided he wouldn't let Malfoy get to him anymore.

"Yes," Ron thought silently, "I'll just ignore him. Nothing makes Malfoy madder than when he's not being paid any attention." He dug back into his now-cold breakfast, content with this new, mature plan. At least Hermione would be proud, he'd make sure she noticed that he wouldn't be pushed to violence by Draco Malfoy anymore. He watched her as she lectured Harry on how Quidditch was harmful to gnomes and elves, smiling thinly. "And maybe once I get rid of Malfoy's unwanted attention, I can get Hermione to pay me some of hers."

**** ****

Draco strutted out of the Great Hall, vaguely aware that Crabbe and Goyle were still walking behind him, and he relaxed a little, glad to be headed to his favourite class, Double Potions. Try as he might, he still couldn't get over the feeling of happiness he got every time Snape deducted points from those stupid Gryffindors, and he'd especially look forward to it today.

"That Weasley oaf," Draco muttered under his breath, "knocking me down and making me look stupid. Well, nobody makes Draco Malfoy look stupid and gets away with it." He stopped walking and turned, aware that his cohorts were suddenly chuckling very loudly. "What's up with you two?"

"Nothing," grunted Crabbe, still snickering. "Just thinking about how you fell on Weasley."

"I suppose everything I do is a big joke to you, is it?" Draco clenched his fists at his sides, but as the other two boys were well beyond his height, he opted to simply put on his meanest face, which sent Goyle into near-hysterics. "Stop it!" he commanded. "Stop laughing!"

The laughter didn't stop.

"Stop it, I'm getting brassed off! I'll have Father owl your fathers and tell them--" Draco shut his mouth, as both of the huge boys had stopped all chortling at the mere mention of their fathers. "I thought so. Come on, I want to get to Potions early." Draco hadn't taken two steps more before a tawny owl swooped across the hall and perched on his shoulder painfully, dropping a copy of the Daily Prophet into his hands. He pocketed it in his robes, pretending not to hear the renewed snickering from Crabbe and Goyle. He'd just have to read it under his table in Potions lesson, and hopefully there'd be something he could use to taunt Weasley. The freckled git had it coming to him, and he'd get it good. It was times like these that Draco was glad he only sat two feet away from the redhead.

******

"Hey Weasley," Draco's whispered voice practically oozed over to Ron's side of the table of it's own accord. "I think I've solved all your money problems."

Ron continued to grind his gallywoot without comment, pretending not to hear the Slytherin. The crimson that crept into his ears betrayed him once again, proving that he was very definitely listening. Draco, who noticed this, smirked.

"I've found some want ads you might want to respond to. Listen. ' Wanted: Cage cleaner at Magical Menagerie. Must provide own gloves. Must be able to work long hours and be good with animals. Owl Mundgarius Blodger for details.' " Draco waited a long moment before saying anything, noticing that Ron was now pounding the gallywoot in a manner that suggested he might be picturing the Slytherin's head under the pestle.

"Why, it's perfect for you," Draco said almost cheerfully. "You'd be dealing in filth, just like you're used to with that Mudblood bitch. Oh, and look here--" Draco said quickly as Ron pushed his chair out with a loud scraping sound, luckily not drawing Snape's attention. "'It says here there's an opening for a gutter cleaner."

Ron was now breathing so heavily that he was making a soft wheezing sound, and he gripped his pestle so hard that Draco was surprised it didn't just turn to dust. "What's the matter, Weasley? Think cleaning gutters is too classy a job for you? You may just be right."

Ron stood quickly, and the smiling Slytherin prepared himself for the attack of the Weasel. Much to Draco's surprise, however, Ron dropped the pestle, leaned over to whisper something Harry, and suddenly the two Gryffindors were switching places.

Draco furrowed his brow in angry bewilderment. Potter? He'd have to sit by Potter now? And why the hell didn't Weasley try to attack him? It usually happened that way. No, no, Draco was confused now, and he hated being confused.

"Potter! Weasley! Twenty points from Gryffindor for standing up in my class," Snape said nastily from Neville Longbottom's cauldron. Draco couldn't even take pleasure in Snape's comment. Weasley had spoiled all his fun, and for the rest of class Draco sat in a sullen silence, looking up from his cauldron only when Snape praised him for concocting such a wonderful Dancing Draught.

He might've been mistaken, but as the Gryffindors and Slytherins emptied out of Snape's dungeon classroom, Draco could've sworn Weasley smirked at him. In triumph.