Breaking The Stone
Written By: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Rowling and Scholastic. However, this fanfic does belong to me. Please don't steal. Please don't sue.
Warnings: This story contains slash (BOY + BOY = LOVE) Meaning, a homosexual relationship. The characters will most likely be OOC (sorry...). Also, I doubt this will happen when the fifth book comes out, so I guess you'd call it AE, for alternate events. AU seems a bit much. This is my first fanfic. You've been warned. Enjoy, and please review!!
A/N: Loooong time since I updated. I'm VERY sorry. Please don't hurt me.... Things heat up and get interesting in the next chapter!
Summary: Draco, Ron, and their misadventures during Winter Break.
Pairing: Draco/Ron
My Thanks: Thanks very much to all the reviewers!
/...../ Denotes Thought. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ******************* Marks Scene Or POV Change
********************************************************************************
"I've got you," shouted Ron, sweaty hand gripping his wand and eyes fierce with determination. Draco smirked. This is exactly what he had wanted. Let the little weasel think he had him trapped. Messing with the redhead's mind would be just _that_ much more fun.
"Now give me back the-" Ron stopped talking, and began to turn. For a moment Draco wondered if the Gryffindor had grown tired of playing. Maybe the cloak wasn't so important to him, after all.
"You again?" And then there was a bright flash of light. Ron slumped to the ground. Draco saw the familiar dark figure that had been standing behind the redhead and panicked. He held his breath, closed his eyes, waited for the intense pain of a spell. But it never came.
It took a couple of deep breaths and the sound of fading footsteps before Draco opened his eyes and realized that the freak-in-robes hadn't even seen him. Whoever it was had, apparently, assumed that Ron was all alone.... talking to himself.
"I'm such a damn chicken," muttered Draco, pulling off the cloak. He was abruptly hit with the intense urge to run after their tormentor. First the Quidditch accident, and now this? This. Ron. Malfoy remembered the reason why he couldn't go after that bastard of an entity, and hurried over to the unconscious teen.
"Lumos." Ron didn't _look_ dead. He was breathing as normally as a person who'd just gotten nailed in the chest with a powerful spell should breathe. A slight sheen of sweat was on his brow, and in the unnatural light of the wand he looked utterly pale, while his hair looked more intensely red than ever.
"Ron?" Draco shook the smaller teens shoulder. No response. "Ron?" He shook harder. _Still_ no response. What kind of spell had that been, anyway?
Getting worried despite himself, Malfoy decided to try sitting Ron up. Maybe that would snap him out of whatever funk he'd fallen into. He grabbed the redhead from around the chest and lay Ron against him while he himself leaned against the wall. There had been a catch in Weasley's breath while he'd been doing this: A sign of pain.
"I don't see anything," he muttered softly, trying to get a good look at his ward. Of course, it had been a spell that had hit Ron. Sometimes spells left no physical evidence.
Carefully, Draco rolled up Ron's sleeves. That revealed nothing but pale, flawless skin. He'd gotten hit in the chest. Ron was hurting in the chest. But what the hell was _he_ supposed to do about that?
"Hey, wake up." This time, there was a response. A slim hand tensed before suddenly gripping Draco by his jeans. "Er...Ron?" No. Not _Ron_. Weasel. This was the damned little Weasel brother. He had to remember that. The blond was feeling weird.
Okay, so Ron wasn't waking up. This could be a problem. He could be seriously injured. And what would come of that? A meeting with Dumbledore, having to explain just _why_ they'd been running around the castle so late, and of course, the whole weird guy in dark robes thing would have to come up too. Yeah, getting caught would really suck. That's what he was worried about. Right.
Deciding that he'd rather not go to Madam Pomfrey if he didn't have to, Draco, with some trouble, pulled of the redhead's maroon sweater. Maroon. Damn. What was this family? Obsessed with red?
After pulling off the sweater, for a brief second, Draco couldn't understand why Ron wasn't dead. Then, he realized it probably wasn't as bad as it looked. But it _did_ look damn bad.
Weasley's chest was blue with a giant bruise. In the very center of that bruise was what looked to be a portion of scorched, irritated skin. It was bleeding, but only slightly. This must have been where the main beam of the spell had hit. Seeing all of this, the young wizard tried not to cringe. And failed.
There was silence for a matter of moments. Draco tried to listen to Ron's breathing, and even tried gently shaking the Gryffindor awake again. It didn't work, so he called his name. That didn't work either, so he called Ron's name _again_. Nothing.
/Stupid, weakling weasel. What am I supposed to do now? I'm not gonna' turn myself in just to help _him_./ While thinking this, Draco stared at the young Weasley brother. The memory of he and Ron hiding in the bushes near Hagrid's hut came back, unbidden. Then came the memory of the sleeping Ron; and then, the cuddling. Suddenly, having an injured weasel sitting in his lap didn't seem so bad, and Draco couldn't discern why.
Lightly, the blonde ran his fingertips over Ron's smooth, pale, face. But it wasn't enough. Draco needed contact. Contact with _Weasley_. He blamed it on shock. He was just worried about getting caught. He kissed Ron on the cheek. That still wasn't enough. Draco squirmed around before he was in the right position, and then, without even fully realizing what he was doing, kissed Ron on the lips.
/What did I just do?/ Draco was all set to panic once the brief kiss was broken. He was ready to drop the redhead and run. Ready to _murder_ himself. Ready to murder _Weasley_. But he didn't have time to figure out what he should do first, because his ward opened bleary, unfocused eyes.
"Wha-what?" Ron paused a moment, trying to regain his voice. "What happened?" He looked confused....surprised.
Automatically, Draco went back into jerk-mode. "Nothing much, Weasel. You're just a wimp. Couldn't even take a lousy spell cast by some crackpot dressed in black." The blonde shoved the carmine sweater at the Gryffindor. "That's a nasty mark. I thought you'd died. But, you know, unfortunately you didn't."
Ron eyed him suspiciously while he pulled on the sweater. He was shivering. "No, that's not what I meant. I kinda' remember that." He moved away a little. "I meant....what did _you_ do?"
/Shit./ He knew? That little weasel had been awake? Maybe not. Maybe Ron's mind was so rattled that Draco could play dumb and get away with it. "What the hell are you talking about, Weasel?"
"No, really. Tell me Draco." Ron looked up at the standing Slytherin, genuine confusion in his eyes.
There was a pause. And then, casual as can be, Draco shrugged.
"I kissed you."
********************************************************************************
"It's already nine. Maybe I should get to my own dorm. Will you be okay?"
The two fourth years were standing just outside of the dining hall. Harvey was biting at his bottom lip and shifting from foot to foot. He looked anxious.
Ginny had to think before answering, and not because she wasn't sure if she'd be okay walking to her House alone, but because she was suddenly suspicious. Her new boyfriend had been just fine with the idea of taking her to the Gryffindor's entrance just a moment ago. Harvey _always_ walked her to her House. At least, he _always_ walked her since they'd become a couple. What was up?
"Sure thing," the fourteen-year-old girl finally replied, thinking that maybe she was just overreacting. The Ravenclaw was probably just tired, or afraid of getting caught wandering the castle after dark.
Seemingly from nowhere, thoughts of the red-headed fiend that was her bother filled Ginny's mind, and an idea wiggled its way into her brain.
Yes, this unexpected refusal by the boy to walk her to her House was definitely for the best.
She parted ways with Harvey.
***********************************************************************************
Three little words was all it took for Draco Malfoy to ruin his life forever.
For a moment, the blonde thought about taking it back. He could laugh cruelly and act like it was all just some sick joke. But it wasn't. And, for the first time in a long time, Draco found that he couldn't bring a vicious sneer to his mouth. He couldn't even _speak_. His dark charm and rotten wit weren't going to save him this time, and he didn't know what to do.
Slowly, eyes so wide it was almost comical, Ron stood up. "What?"
"I kissed you," he repeated, hating the sound of it even more the second time around.
Draco was feeling strange. His emotions and hormones were all mixed up. He couldn't help but admit to himself that he'd liked the kiss. He'd _liked_ it. And, at the moment, Ron didn't look too bad either.
The redhead's reaction didn't come quick. For a few moments he stood stock still, looking Draco in the eye. He didn't look mad, didn't look freaked out, didn't look....anything. And the young, platinum-haired wizard wondered if it would be best to just tell Ron what he was feeling. Tell him about the weird thoughts whirling around in his head. Maybe it would be for the best.
"Why the _hell_ did you kiss me?" It was an angry scream, and all thoughts of sharing feelings with redheaded weasels went straight out the window. "Why? I mean....God! Why would you do _that_?"
/Come on Malfoy, think fast./ His mouth opened and, without knowing exactly what he was going to say, he spoke. "Mouth to mouth resuscitation. Did I say kiss? Hell no. What do think I am, gay?" He couldn't tell what Ron was thinking. He plastered a smart-ass smirk on his face. "I'm not _you_, you know."
Weasley's freckled face grew crimson with anger. "Shut up, Malfoy!" The tension passed. Having mostly recovered from the spell (except for that bruise), Ron managed to remember the reason this had all happened. He glanced around before spotting the cloak, discarded on the stone floor. Before Draco could get any ideas, he struggled over and picked it up. "So, mouth to mouth resuscitation, huh?" The silent blonde was freaking him out. What in the hell was wrong with him?
Malfoy glared. "Yes," he spat a little to quickly.
"Oh. Hey...wait a second. Mouth to mouth? That's-"
For the second time that night, Ron was cut off.
Written By: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Rowling and Scholastic. However, this fanfic does belong to me. Please don't steal. Please don't sue.
Warnings: This story contains slash (BOY + BOY = LOVE) Meaning, a homosexual relationship. The characters will most likely be OOC (sorry...). Also, I doubt this will happen when the fifth book comes out, so I guess you'd call it AE, for alternate events. AU seems a bit much. This is my first fanfic. You've been warned. Enjoy, and please review!!
A/N: Loooong time since I updated. I'm VERY sorry. Please don't hurt me.... Things heat up and get interesting in the next chapter!
Summary: Draco, Ron, and their misadventures during Winter Break.
Pairing: Draco/Ron
My Thanks: Thanks very much to all the reviewers!
/...../ Denotes Thought. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ******************* Marks Scene Or POV Change
********************************************************************************
"I've got you," shouted Ron, sweaty hand gripping his wand and eyes fierce with determination. Draco smirked. This is exactly what he had wanted. Let the little weasel think he had him trapped. Messing with the redhead's mind would be just _that_ much more fun.
"Now give me back the-" Ron stopped talking, and began to turn. For a moment Draco wondered if the Gryffindor had grown tired of playing. Maybe the cloak wasn't so important to him, after all.
"You again?" And then there was a bright flash of light. Ron slumped to the ground. Draco saw the familiar dark figure that had been standing behind the redhead and panicked. He held his breath, closed his eyes, waited for the intense pain of a spell. But it never came.
It took a couple of deep breaths and the sound of fading footsteps before Draco opened his eyes and realized that the freak-in-robes hadn't even seen him. Whoever it was had, apparently, assumed that Ron was all alone.... talking to himself.
"I'm such a damn chicken," muttered Draco, pulling off the cloak. He was abruptly hit with the intense urge to run after their tormentor. First the Quidditch accident, and now this? This. Ron. Malfoy remembered the reason why he couldn't go after that bastard of an entity, and hurried over to the unconscious teen.
"Lumos." Ron didn't _look_ dead. He was breathing as normally as a person who'd just gotten nailed in the chest with a powerful spell should breathe. A slight sheen of sweat was on his brow, and in the unnatural light of the wand he looked utterly pale, while his hair looked more intensely red than ever.
"Ron?" Draco shook the smaller teens shoulder. No response. "Ron?" He shook harder. _Still_ no response. What kind of spell had that been, anyway?
Getting worried despite himself, Malfoy decided to try sitting Ron up. Maybe that would snap him out of whatever funk he'd fallen into. He grabbed the redhead from around the chest and lay Ron against him while he himself leaned against the wall. There had been a catch in Weasley's breath while he'd been doing this: A sign of pain.
"I don't see anything," he muttered softly, trying to get a good look at his ward. Of course, it had been a spell that had hit Ron. Sometimes spells left no physical evidence.
Carefully, Draco rolled up Ron's sleeves. That revealed nothing but pale, flawless skin. He'd gotten hit in the chest. Ron was hurting in the chest. But what the hell was _he_ supposed to do about that?
"Hey, wake up." This time, there was a response. A slim hand tensed before suddenly gripping Draco by his jeans. "Er...Ron?" No. Not _Ron_. Weasel. This was the damned little Weasel brother. He had to remember that. The blond was feeling weird.
Okay, so Ron wasn't waking up. This could be a problem. He could be seriously injured. And what would come of that? A meeting with Dumbledore, having to explain just _why_ they'd been running around the castle so late, and of course, the whole weird guy in dark robes thing would have to come up too. Yeah, getting caught would really suck. That's what he was worried about. Right.
Deciding that he'd rather not go to Madam Pomfrey if he didn't have to, Draco, with some trouble, pulled of the redhead's maroon sweater. Maroon. Damn. What was this family? Obsessed with red?
After pulling off the sweater, for a brief second, Draco couldn't understand why Ron wasn't dead. Then, he realized it probably wasn't as bad as it looked. But it _did_ look damn bad.
Weasley's chest was blue with a giant bruise. In the very center of that bruise was what looked to be a portion of scorched, irritated skin. It was bleeding, but only slightly. This must have been where the main beam of the spell had hit. Seeing all of this, the young wizard tried not to cringe. And failed.
There was silence for a matter of moments. Draco tried to listen to Ron's breathing, and even tried gently shaking the Gryffindor awake again. It didn't work, so he called his name. That didn't work either, so he called Ron's name _again_. Nothing.
/Stupid, weakling weasel. What am I supposed to do now? I'm not gonna' turn myself in just to help _him_./ While thinking this, Draco stared at the young Weasley brother. The memory of he and Ron hiding in the bushes near Hagrid's hut came back, unbidden. Then came the memory of the sleeping Ron; and then, the cuddling. Suddenly, having an injured weasel sitting in his lap didn't seem so bad, and Draco couldn't discern why.
Lightly, the blonde ran his fingertips over Ron's smooth, pale, face. But it wasn't enough. Draco needed contact. Contact with _Weasley_. He blamed it on shock. He was just worried about getting caught. He kissed Ron on the cheek. That still wasn't enough. Draco squirmed around before he was in the right position, and then, without even fully realizing what he was doing, kissed Ron on the lips.
/What did I just do?/ Draco was all set to panic once the brief kiss was broken. He was ready to drop the redhead and run. Ready to _murder_ himself. Ready to murder _Weasley_. But he didn't have time to figure out what he should do first, because his ward opened bleary, unfocused eyes.
"Wha-what?" Ron paused a moment, trying to regain his voice. "What happened?" He looked confused....surprised.
Automatically, Draco went back into jerk-mode. "Nothing much, Weasel. You're just a wimp. Couldn't even take a lousy spell cast by some crackpot dressed in black." The blonde shoved the carmine sweater at the Gryffindor. "That's a nasty mark. I thought you'd died. But, you know, unfortunately you didn't."
Ron eyed him suspiciously while he pulled on the sweater. He was shivering. "No, that's not what I meant. I kinda' remember that." He moved away a little. "I meant....what did _you_ do?"
/Shit./ He knew? That little weasel had been awake? Maybe not. Maybe Ron's mind was so rattled that Draco could play dumb and get away with it. "What the hell are you talking about, Weasel?"
"No, really. Tell me Draco." Ron looked up at the standing Slytherin, genuine confusion in his eyes.
There was a pause. And then, casual as can be, Draco shrugged.
"I kissed you."
********************************************************************************
"It's already nine. Maybe I should get to my own dorm. Will you be okay?"
The two fourth years were standing just outside of the dining hall. Harvey was biting at his bottom lip and shifting from foot to foot. He looked anxious.
Ginny had to think before answering, and not because she wasn't sure if she'd be okay walking to her House alone, but because she was suddenly suspicious. Her new boyfriend had been just fine with the idea of taking her to the Gryffindor's entrance just a moment ago. Harvey _always_ walked her to her House. At least, he _always_ walked her since they'd become a couple. What was up?
"Sure thing," the fourteen-year-old girl finally replied, thinking that maybe she was just overreacting. The Ravenclaw was probably just tired, or afraid of getting caught wandering the castle after dark.
Seemingly from nowhere, thoughts of the red-headed fiend that was her bother filled Ginny's mind, and an idea wiggled its way into her brain.
Yes, this unexpected refusal by the boy to walk her to her House was definitely for the best.
She parted ways with Harvey.
***********************************************************************************
Three little words was all it took for Draco Malfoy to ruin his life forever.
For a moment, the blonde thought about taking it back. He could laugh cruelly and act like it was all just some sick joke. But it wasn't. And, for the first time in a long time, Draco found that he couldn't bring a vicious sneer to his mouth. He couldn't even _speak_. His dark charm and rotten wit weren't going to save him this time, and he didn't know what to do.
Slowly, eyes so wide it was almost comical, Ron stood up. "What?"
"I kissed you," he repeated, hating the sound of it even more the second time around.
Draco was feeling strange. His emotions and hormones were all mixed up. He couldn't help but admit to himself that he'd liked the kiss. He'd _liked_ it. And, at the moment, Ron didn't look too bad either.
The redhead's reaction didn't come quick. For a few moments he stood stock still, looking Draco in the eye. He didn't look mad, didn't look freaked out, didn't look....anything. And the young, platinum-haired wizard wondered if it would be best to just tell Ron what he was feeling. Tell him about the weird thoughts whirling around in his head. Maybe it would be for the best.
"Why the _hell_ did you kiss me?" It was an angry scream, and all thoughts of sharing feelings with redheaded weasels went straight out the window. "Why? I mean....God! Why would you do _that_?"
/Come on Malfoy, think fast./ His mouth opened and, without knowing exactly what he was going to say, he spoke. "Mouth to mouth resuscitation. Did I say kiss? Hell no. What do think I am, gay?" He couldn't tell what Ron was thinking. He plastered a smart-ass smirk on his face. "I'm not _you_, you know."
Weasley's freckled face grew crimson with anger. "Shut up, Malfoy!" The tension passed. Having mostly recovered from the spell (except for that bruise), Ron managed to remember the reason this had all happened. He glanced around before spotting the cloak, discarded on the stone floor. Before Draco could get any ideas, he struggled over and picked it up. "So, mouth to mouth resuscitation, huh?" The silent blonde was freaking him out. What in the hell was wrong with him?
Malfoy glared. "Yes," he spat a little to quickly.
"Oh. Hey...wait a second. Mouth to mouth? That's-"
For the second time that night, Ron was cut off.