-----Part Four

What just happened?

After leaving Ron standing in front of the castle coughing and sputtering, Draco sprinted his way back to the Slytherin House, heedless of the fact that he might get caught by a professor.

"Snake eyes," he mumbled, and the stone entrance slid open to reveal a welcoming fireplace and a much needed couch. Dropping onto the couch, the blond tried to make sense of things.

He'd gone out on a walk, not the least bit concerned if he'd be caught or not by some wandering professor. He'd ended up outside of Hagrid's hiding so that he wouldn't be caught by the Headmaster. Ron had come along, ready to knock on Hagrid's door, and Malfoy had helped him. He'd helped a Weasley. No - it just didn't sound right.

And, unfortunately, that wasn't all. Draco was too unlucky for that to be all. It wasn't bad enough he'd helped Ron so he wouldn't get into trouble. Oh no. He'd ended up cuddling with the redheaded Weasel. Cuddling!

And still that wasn't all. What could be worse than snuggling up with his adversary? Well, Draco had actually initiated the cuddle. After he'd grabbed Ron, and had argued with him for a while, they had both become silent. Minute after minute had passed. The two teens had begun to drift. Ron was the first to fall asleep.

It's really cold, Draco had thought while at the same time studying Weasley with sleepy eyes. The boys red hair was windblown and messy. His cheeks were scarlet from the cold and he was sleeping on the ground, on his side in an almost fetal position. Really, really cold. Draco had stared some more at the Gryffindor. I could freeze to death.

Things had gone downhill from there.

"What was I thinking?" No. He hadn't been thinking. That was the problem. His brain had been damaged and slow due to the cold. The young wizard groaned.

On the bright side, he thought, I gave Weasley a pretty good punch to the gut. That was a plus. A huge plus.

After a moment of moaning and going over the problem in his head, Draco sat up. Maybe things weren't so bad. Meeting up with the Weasel, in fact, could possibly be considered a blessing. Now that he knew the redhead was spending Winter Break at Hogwarts he'd be able to bother and abuse the redhead to his heart's content. Weasley was the solution to Malfoy's impending boredom.

Of course, he couldn't just forget about the unfortunate spooning incident. It had happened, even if it hadn't been directly his fault.

It was just the cold, Malfoy assured himself, before heading to bed. It was already late, and he wanted to be at his best (or was it worst?) the following day. The cold did something to my brain.

-----

He glared at me.

The library smelt of dust. Ron was sitting at one of the numerous wooden tables, hunched over the bits and pieces of what had once been a collectable wizard card. He was biting his lip in concentration, and the warm sun (which was quickly melting the snow outside) was coming in through the curtainless windows, aimed right at his back. He'd glanced up only a moment ago, at the table where his still peeved little sister was sitting, only to see that the boy who was sitting with her (Ron assumed this was Harvey) was staring straight at him. No. Staring wasn't the right word. Harvey had been glaring.

Thinking that perhaps he was imagining things or that the fourth year (who looked a bit too much like one Harry Potter for Ron's liking) was simply looking at the window beyond him, squinting into the sun, he'd looked away and had gotten back to work. What did it matter if Harvey had glared, anyway? The redhead had more important things to worry about. Like, for example, putting the Agrippa card back together.

"Reparo," said Ron, quietly yet forcefully, as he waved the wand gripped in his right hand in the required way. Briefly, the wand emitted purple sparks. And the card lay on the table, as shredded as ever.

What was he doing wrong? "I know this stuff." Or, at least he should've known it. He'd learned the repair trick back during his first year. Perhaps the spell would've worked if he hadn't of had the card in his pocket all night. It had just been crinkled initially. Now it was mangled. Then again, there might've been other explanations as to why the spell wasn't working. Maybe collectible wizard cards had some anti-fixing charm cast on them or something.

"Stupid Weasel, those things have an anti-fixing charm cast on them."

"Huh?" Ron looked up. It was Draco. He was dressed in normal clothes (his robes were noticeably absent), and that ever present smart-ass sneer was on his face. "Oh, it's you." The redhead's stomach was still vaguely sore.

Draco reached over and grabbed one of the bigger chunks of the torn up card before taking a seat across from the Gryffindor. "Oh please, Weasley. The game is up. I know how you feel about me. You don't have to act anymore." He'd managed to keep a straight face while saying this. "You collect these things?"

Ron tried to grab for the stolen piece of card, but the blond pulled it out of reach. "Just shut up about that. It's old already." Draco didn't seem to have his wand at the ready. Perhaps he could turn the pale-skinned teen into a slug. No, wait, Ron didn't want to think about slugs.

"You mean shut up about the gay thing?" Ron gasped, panicked, and looked up to check if Ginny or her friend (who were the only other students in the library) had heard. They hadn't. They were laughing away, making suggestive eyes at each other, and seemed to be getting ready to leave the library. He better not be planning on snogging my sister.

"I just want you to know," announced Malfoy seriously, "that this won't change a thing between us. I still hate you and will wake up every morning anxious to kick your-"

Grabbing back his property from the unsuspecting Draco, Ron swept up the rest of the card and stuck the pieces into his pocket. "Someone will hear. You don't want an even worse reputation, do you?"

The Slytherin feigned ignorance. "I've got a bad reputation?" With one last angry look, Ron turned to go. He didn't particularly feel like being around the jerk of a fifth year, especially after what had happened the night before. They were supposed to be enemies, anyway.

Ron might be looking forward to a lonely Winter Break, but there was no way he'd ever be so desperate as to take on Draco as his new friend.

"You know," said Draco casually, "I've got an Agrippa card." That stopped Weasley in his tracks. "And I'd be willing to give you the card, too."

The redhead turned, hesitant and guarded. "Yeah?"

Malfoy was smiling. That was never good. "Yeah." He paused, perhaps trying to be dramatic. "For a price."