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.
A/N: Thank You All Readers And Reviewers!!
Summary: Draco, Ron, and their misadventures during Winter Break. Please Review.
Pairing: Draco/Ron
/...../ Denotes Thought. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ******************* Marks Scene Or POV Change
********************************************************************************
Ron _had_ hurt his wrist. It turned out to be a semi-serious sprang. Since entering the infirmary the redhead had been scolded by an angry Ms. Pomfrey, shoved into bed, and forced to drink something that tasted vaguely like rotten pumpkin juice.
/I wonder what they're saying./ The initial shock and fear of being caught off-campus by Dumbledore had dwindled during the march to the old wizard's office. By the time the three of them had reached the odd-smelling room (Ron suspected Dumbledore had too many different types of sweets laying about), with the snoring wizard portraits and the squawking, feathery phoenix the youngest Weasley brother had actually been quite anxious to tell the old, bearded sorcerer the truth. /I'll just tell him everything,/ Ron had thought. /The attacks, the sneaking out, how we overheard his conversation with Hagrid. Everything./ Yes, telling did seem to be the best solution. Dumbledore would take care of whoever the stalker was, and Ron doubted they would be in _big_ trouble. Standing in the office, wrist throbbing, he'd glanced over at the blond standing next to him. For a brief moment he'd recalled Draco's bad reputation. Well, not _huge_ trouble, anyway.
Ron had been given no time to voice his thoughts though, because just as he was going to open his mouth the Headmaster had taken notice of Ron's swelling wrist. And now here he was, stuck in bed, the vile taste of a healing potion on his tongue and a million scenarios of what could be going on with Draco and Dumbledore playing out in his head.
How would the sly, quick-witted, annoying-as-hell teen handle this one? Although, Ron had to admit, he didn't dislike the blond severely (if at all) at the moment. Rotten pumpkin juice wasn't the only aftertaste on his tongue.
Yeah, this time it had definitely not been mouth to mouth.
Thoughts heavy, Ron sighed and closed his eyes.
********************************************************************************
Draco was surprised. The punishment Dumbledork had dished out wasn't nearly as catastrophic as he'd thought it would be. The old man had probably figured that leaving the school during Winter Break wasn't exactly the worst thing the two students could've done.
"You two will be cleaning out both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall's classrooms. I understand Mr. Longbottom made quite a mess of them during midterms." Draco thought he detected a slight flinch within Dumbledore's usually-calm demeanor, but dismissed it as being his imagination. The classrooms couldn't be that bad.
For a moment there was silence while Draco shifted nervously and uncharacteristically from foot to foot. /I should tell him about everything that's been happening./ "We clean a room each?", he asked instead.
"No, both you _and_ Mr. Weasley went off campus. I implore you to carry out your punishment together also." The old wizard had an odd look in his twinkly eyes. Draco knew the man must be wondering why in the Wizarding World he and Weasley (of all people) had run off together.
However, even if Malfoy had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to answer that question. He wasn't sure himself. It had seemed like such a good idea, asking Ron to Hogsmeade.
Another moment of silence stretched on before Dumbledore, looking disappointed with the fact that he'd gotten no answer for his silent question, made a "shooing" gesture. "I suggest you retrieve Mr. Weasley from the infirmary and start cleaning. Unless, of course, you'd like to be scrubbing floors during Christmas! Speaking of which, where _did_ I put Minerva's gift?"
Leaving the Headmaster's office, Draco wandered the halls, his fingers running along the cold stone walls and his feet going wherever they'd like.
Christmas. Draco had nearly forgotten about that. He'd never really been a big Christmas fan, but..... It was on Tuesday, which meant he and Ron only had tonight and tomorrow to clean up whatever mess that fool called Neville had made.
Draco's fingers met air. He halted, turned, and realized that his feet had led him to the open doorway of the infirmary.
********************************************************************************
"This is disgusting."
There was no doubt about it. Neville Longbottom had most definitely flunked his midterms.
"Stop complaining and scrub."
Muttering under his breath Ron soaked his already dirty rag in a nearby bucket before ringing it out and continuing to clean. He couldn't understand why Draco was so miffed. It wasn't _his_ fault that the platinum blond had come to the infirmary, seen Ron sleeping, and then had ended up falling asleep himself. It wasn't _his_ fault that neither one of them had returned to the "world of the living" until nearly seven o' clock that night. Malfoy could've nudged Ron awake. He didn't have to take vigil in a nearby chair, only to fall asleep himself.
/It was kinda' nice of him not to wake me though,/ mused Weasley, frowning as he reached the core of the mess in Snape's classroom: A blue, bubbling pile of odd-smelling goo that had once been a cauldron.
/He hasn't said anything about the kiss./
Gritting his teeth Ron "scrubbed" as Draco had commanded and tried to bear the horrid smell. Now that he thought about it, the blonde hadn't said much of anything since they'd woken up in the infirmary.
In fact, it was a moody and silent Malfoy who had led him down to Snape's dungeon of a classroom. Two buckets, some sponges, and a mop had greeted them in the stuffy, darkened room, ruling out any hopeful thoughts of using magic. The two teens had been cleaning for over half an hour now and, save a few rude remarks, Draco hadn't said a word.
Ron's fist seemed to clench tighter around his rag. /He can't treat me like this./ Happy feelings that spawned from kisses and what seemed to be thoughtful vigils fled quickly from the redhead's mind. All the years of torture suffered came back in a rush. Most vivid were the memories of Draco punching him in the stomach, Draco crushing the promised Wizard Cards, Draco running off with Harry's invisible cloak.... And that smart-ass smirk of his! What in the hell was he doing here? Being punished for taking a little off-campus trip with Malfoy, of all people? And, imagine, that prick had even accused Ginny's new boyfriend of being their Stalker!
Suddenly very tomato-faced and angry, Ron stood. "Is this all just some sick, twisted joke?! Was us kissing a fucking joke, Malfoy?!" He wasn't sure where the question came from, nor was he sure what he wanted the answer to be. He was just mad. Horribly, painfully, mad.
Draco had stopped his own scrubbing, and he looked rather surprised. It took only a moment for Ron to realize that the blond wasn't giving him the surprised look, but something behind him.
"Hi Ron. Draco." Eyes bulging, the redhead looked slowly toward the doorway.
Standing there, hair unkempt, robes wrinkled, and a malicious smile that rivaled even Malfoy's plastered on his face, was Harvey Williams.
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.
A/N: Thank You All Readers And Reviewers!!
Summary: Draco, Ron, and their misadventures during Winter Break. Please Review.
Pairing: Draco/Ron
/...../ Denotes Thought. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ******************* Marks Scene Or POV Change
********************************************************************************
Ron _had_ hurt his wrist. It turned out to be a semi-serious sprang. Since entering the infirmary the redhead had been scolded by an angry Ms. Pomfrey, shoved into bed, and forced to drink something that tasted vaguely like rotten pumpkin juice.
/I wonder what they're saying./ The initial shock and fear of being caught off-campus by Dumbledore had dwindled during the march to the old wizard's office. By the time the three of them had reached the odd-smelling room (Ron suspected Dumbledore had too many different types of sweets laying about), with the snoring wizard portraits and the squawking, feathery phoenix the youngest Weasley brother had actually been quite anxious to tell the old, bearded sorcerer the truth. /I'll just tell him everything,/ Ron had thought. /The attacks, the sneaking out, how we overheard his conversation with Hagrid. Everything./ Yes, telling did seem to be the best solution. Dumbledore would take care of whoever the stalker was, and Ron doubted they would be in _big_ trouble. Standing in the office, wrist throbbing, he'd glanced over at the blond standing next to him. For a brief moment he'd recalled Draco's bad reputation. Well, not _huge_ trouble, anyway.
Ron had been given no time to voice his thoughts though, because just as he was going to open his mouth the Headmaster had taken notice of Ron's swelling wrist. And now here he was, stuck in bed, the vile taste of a healing potion on his tongue and a million scenarios of what could be going on with Draco and Dumbledore playing out in his head.
How would the sly, quick-witted, annoying-as-hell teen handle this one? Although, Ron had to admit, he didn't dislike the blond severely (if at all) at the moment. Rotten pumpkin juice wasn't the only aftertaste on his tongue.
Yeah, this time it had definitely not been mouth to mouth.
Thoughts heavy, Ron sighed and closed his eyes.
********************************************************************************
Draco was surprised. The punishment Dumbledork had dished out wasn't nearly as catastrophic as he'd thought it would be. The old man had probably figured that leaving the school during Winter Break wasn't exactly the worst thing the two students could've done.
"You two will be cleaning out both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall's classrooms. I understand Mr. Longbottom made quite a mess of them during midterms." Draco thought he detected a slight flinch within Dumbledore's usually-calm demeanor, but dismissed it as being his imagination. The classrooms couldn't be that bad.
For a moment there was silence while Draco shifted nervously and uncharacteristically from foot to foot. /I should tell him about everything that's been happening./ "We clean a room each?", he asked instead.
"No, both you _and_ Mr. Weasley went off campus. I implore you to carry out your punishment together also." The old wizard had an odd look in his twinkly eyes. Draco knew the man must be wondering why in the Wizarding World he and Weasley (of all people) had run off together.
However, even if Malfoy had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to answer that question. He wasn't sure himself. It had seemed like such a good idea, asking Ron to Hogsmeade.
Another moment of silence stretched on before Dumbledore, looking disappointed with the fact that he'd gotten no answer for his silent question, made a "shooing" gesture. "I suggest you retrieve Mr. Weasley from the infirmary and start cleaning. Unless, of course, you'd like to be scrubbing floors during Christmas! Speaking of which, where _did_ I put Minerva's gift?"
Leaving the Headmaster's office, Draco wandered the halls, his fingers running along the cold stone walls and his feet going wherever they'd like.
Christmas. Draco had nearly forgotten about that. He'd never really been a big Christmas fan, but..... It was on Tuesday, which meant he and Ron only had tonight and tomorrow to clean up whatever mess that fool called Neville had made.
Draco's fingers met air. He halted, turned, and realized that his feet had led him to the open doorway of the infirmary.
********************************************************************************
"This is disgusting."
There was no doubt about it. Neville Longbottom had most definitely flunked his midterms.
"Stop complaining and scrub."
Muttering under his breath Ron soaked his already dirty rag in a nearby bucket before ringing it out and continuing to clean. He couldn't understand why Draco was so miffed. It wasn't _his_ fault that the platinum blond had come to the infirmary, seen Ron sleeping, and then had ended up falling asleep himself. It wasn't _his_ fault that neither one of them had returned to the "world of the living" until nearly seven o' clock that night. Malfoy could've nudged Ron awake. He didn't have to take vigil in a nearby chair, only to fall asleep himself.
/It was kinda' nice of him not to wake me though,/ mused Weasley, frowning as he reached the core of the mess in Snape's classroom: A blue, bubbling pile of odd-smelling goo that had once been a cauldron.
/He hasn't said anything about the kiss./
Gritting his teeth Ron "scrubbed" as Draco had commanded and tried to bear the horrid smell. Now that he thought about it, the blonde hadn't said much of anything since they'd woken up in the infirmary.
In fact, it was a moody and silent Malfoy who had led him down to Snape's dungeon of a classroom. Two buckets, some sponges, and a mop had greeted them in the stuffy, darkened room, ruling out any hopeful thoughts of using magic. The two teens had been cleaning for over half an hour now and, save a few rude remarks, Draco hadn't said a word.
Ron's fist seemed to clench tighter around his rag. /He can't treat me like this./ Happy feelings that spawned from kisses and what seemed to be thoughtful vigils fled quickly from the redhead's mind. All the years of torture suffered came back in a rush. Most vivid were the memories of Draco punching him in the stomach, Draco crushing the promised Wizard Cards, Draco running off with Harry's invisible cloak.... And that smart-ass smirk of his! What in the hell was he doing here? Being punished for taking a little off-campus trip with Malfoy, of all people? And, imagine, that prick had even accused Ginny's new boyfriend of being their Stalker!
Suddenly very tomato-faced and angry, Ron stood. "Is this all just some sick, twisted joke?! Was us kissing a fucking joke, Malfoy?!" He wasn't sure where the question came from, nor was he sure what he wanted the answer to be. He was just mad. Horribly, painfully, mad.
Draco had stopped his own scrubbing, and he looked rather surprised. It took only a moment for Ron to realize that the blond wasn't giving him the surprised look, but something behind him.
"Hi Ron. Draco." Eyes bulging, the redhead looked slowly toward the doorway.
Standing there, hair unkempt, robes wrinkled, and a malicious smile that rivaled even Malfoy's plastered on his face, was Harvey Williams.