Breaking The Stone
Written By: Nox2 (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
A/N: It took me forever and a day to update, I know. I want to apologize to all of the readers profusely. Real Life kinda' got in the way of my writing for a while. Work, School, Etc. However, I _did_ manage to finish this story! I hope you all enjoy it! And a million thank you's to every reviewer! ^_^ v The last chapter should be up soon. It's all written, I just need to edit it!
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Draco was seething. He was leaning against the stone wall, staring at the closed door of the office, internally cursing Snape. Images of Ron in several not-so-good situations, hurt and bleeding, flashed through his mind. He should be doing something. _Anything_, to find Ron.
Severus Snape had always been a likable man, in Malfoy's opinion. Witty, fair, and just plain _likable_. Yes, the potions instructor was a man Draco had always greatly admired. Until now. Until he'd seen the way the greasy-haired Professor had snapped at Harvey and Ginny. Especially poor Ginny, who's older brother was missing. No "May I ask what you're doing in the corridors at this time?" No "Are you all okay?" Even after overhearing bits and pieces of their conversation, he'd gone to Draco's defense immediately. Something about being bullied. And Draco hadn't needed defense.
"I think you should tell Dumbledore," Snape had said. But that was before the three teens had yelled an agreement. Before the blonde had deemed the word of two Gryffindor's honorable. Ginny's brother _was_ missing, and they'd gladly tell the Headmaster all about it.
To Snape that meant no enjoyable punishments. No point deductions. No consequences. At least not immediately. And that didn't make him happy.
Telling Severus everything would've been a waste of time. The man would've harped on the fact that Ron had been out after hours several times instead of the fact that the redhead was missing, and very obviously in danger. He would've complained over Weasley getting so little a punishment after leaving campus for Hogsmeade. All in all, the Professor would've taken much too long to get Dumbledore, or to take action. Refusing to speak unless the Headmaster was in their presence had been a good move.
Or so Draco had thought. Snape was taking too damn long.
"I'm sorry." Harvey's voice broke the quiet. Both Draco and Ginny turned to look at him.
The Ravenclaw was as pale as a ghost. His hands were shaking slightly, and his eyes were anguished. "I shouldn't have slammed Ron up against the wall like that. I shouldn't have threatened him. I- "
"Forget it." The air was frigid. There was no sign of Dumbledore or Snape. Ron could be dead. Draco sure as hell didn't want to deal with Harvey's regrets. Not now. He felt nervous and jumpy. He had to _do_ something. He had crossed the room and opened the door within seconds. "Stay here and tell Dumbledore what you know."
Looking terrified, Ginny ran to grab his shoulder. "What are you going to do? Where are you going?"
Draco smirked. "To play hero."
*******
"John. John Macnair."
Macnair? Ron knew that name. Somehow, he knew it. It was a faint itch at the back of his mind, but there wasn't time for thinking.
Though scared, the redhead wasn't frozen. Though without his wand, Ron didn't feel all hope was lost. His Figure In Robes wasn't a powerful Death Eater, or Voldemort's right-hand man after all. It was an eleven-year-old boy. And though the boy obviously had knowledge of very dangerous spells, the situation just didn't seem as bad as it could've been.
_Harvey_ would've been worse than this.
"I suppose you'd like to know why I went after you instead of Potter," began John, and Ron realized that the boy was going through with the customary villain-explains-all speech.
He didn't listen. Instead, he wondered if ramming the kid would be too risky. There was no doubt Ron could overpower John, but the first year might be able to fire off a spell before hitting the ground, which wouldn't do at all.
"....Harry had too many eyes on him. Dumbledore, the Professors, _everybody_ looks out for the Boy Who Lived. So I thought- Hey!"
Ron ran.
He turned and sprinted from the clearing, John's curses booming behind him. Snow crunched underfoot, a blue beam of light nearly grazed his cheek, another beam just missed his heels. John was firing spells at him, furious.
Ron was no longer glad about Macnair being the stalker. With the sound of John's yelling and the flashing of dangerous spells had come a frightening realization. How could he have been so stupid? The first year was deadly.
In a classic damsel in distress move, Ron tripped. The tip of his shoe collided with a large root that was jutting out of the ground, partially hidden by the thick layers of snow. He ended up on all fours, his palms scraped and red, his knees bruised. "Shit."
He forced himself up, yet another spell hitting the spot where he'd been only a moment before. Ron limped on, towards the castle. Towards Hogwarts because Dumbledore would know what to do. Because he'd be saved. Because Draco would be there, and that somehow made it the best place to be.
And then the unexpected happened.
In a not-so-classic pursuing villain move, John tripped. Ron heard the boy cry out and chanced a look back, only to be met with the pleasurable sight of the first year falling face-first into the snow. The boy coughed and sputtered. His wand went flying.
Ron didn't see where the weapon landed. It didn't matter. Thanking his lucky stars, the redhead grabbed the first potential weapon he spotted: A thin, sturdy tree limb that was lying on the ground.
He couldn't just leave John here. On one hand that could give the boy a chance to escape, leaving him free to do whatever evil deeds he desired to do. On the other, there was always the chance that Macnair would somehow find his wand, catch up to Ron before he could reach the castle and...Well, no good would come of that.
The only option was to knock John out. _Then_ he'd go for Dumbledore.
"Bastard," spat Ron angrily before gripping the limb and swinging it at John's head.
CRACK.
Ron blinked. Crack? Wasn't the sound of impact supposed to be more of a thunk? And why wasn't John limp and unconscious?
Slowly, he lifted the limb and examined it. "Hey, I found it," he said and gave a nervous little laugh. It turned out he was holding not a tree limb, but the school broomstick that he'd used on the trip to Hogsmeade. The broomstick he'd ended up losing because of that stupid spider. John's skull had broken the broom, and a portion of it hung limply to one side.
Well, he'd always believed the things were cheap.
"That hurt, you jerk!" The eleven-year-old managed to stand. His face was red with cold and anger, and his eyes looked slightly unfocused. He had his wand at hand. Apparently it hadn't flown far.
Ron's examination of the damned broom had cost him. He clenched his teeth, angry. "Jerk?! You're the one trying to kill me!"
"The one that _is_ killing you. Crucio!"
Harry had told Ron that this unforgivable curse had been cast on him during his brief stay in the cemetery with Voldemort. Ron himself had seen the spell demonstrated on a spider before. The thing had writhed in agony. Harry had tried to describe the horrid pain in one of his more emotional, sharing moments. Tried to. But this pain seemed almost indescribable.
Ron's body was on fire. He could feel the pain down into his bones. His eyes were rolling back in his head, and he dimly registered that he'd fallen to his knees. A horrible, keening sound was coming from his lips. He was hardly aware of it. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted to die...
It stopped.
There was a ringing in his ears. He stayed put, breathing hard. After a moment he realized John was laughing at him. A sick laugh. Ron imagined Voldemort's laugh might sound exactly like it.
The redhead had almost caught his breath when the first year raised his wand again, a look of pleasure upon his face. "Cruc-!"
"EXPELLIARMUS! STUPIFY!"
It took all of a split second for John's wand to fly out of his hand. And then he fell.
"Holy crap! Are you okay?"
It was Draco. The _real_ Draco. He was breathing hard, and his face was flushed. "I heard him! He cast...he...That fucking asshole!"
Ron couldn't speak. He was still on his bruised knees, staring at the prone form of John Macnair.
Macnair. He remembered now. Back in third year there had been an executioner sent to the school to kill the Hippogriff that had attacked Draco. This was the boy that belonged to Lucious Malfoy's friend, a Death Eater named Walden Macnair.
Draco came closer and nudged John with his foot. "I don't get it. Who is this?"
"John Macnair."
A look of understanding came to Draco. The teen nodded, and his eyes darkened as he glared down at the defeated boy. "Oh." Ron didn't bother to ask how Draco knew about the Macnair's.
Ron's wrist was hurting. Again. It was the same wrist he'd injured before, but he couldn't remember if he'd hurt it when he'd tripped over the root, or when he'd fallen to the ground in pain from John's spell. It didn't matter. Either way, it hurt.
His whole body was aching. Like an aftershock to crucio. A memory of the complete agony. It had hurt so badly...He would take death over pain like that any day.
Suddenly the blonde was near him. Draco sat on the ground. He lifted his hand, hesitated, and then brushed Ron's cheek softly with his knuckles. Ron realized there were tears leaking from his eyes. He'd been so scared.... He hadn't realized that he'd started to cry.
"I'm okay," he said, wiping at his eyes. "I'm f-fine." He had to get up. Had to retrace his steps to the clearing and retrieve his wand. Had to go to the infirmary and get his wrist checked. Had to get Dumbledore over here. "We gotta' get the Headmaster."
"He's coming," said Draco.
"Coming?" It was useless, the wiping his eyes, because he couldn't seem to stop crying. He felt stupid. And he felt, suddenly, that Harry Potter deserved a whole hell of a lot more fame and appreciation then he'd ever been given. What the guy must've gone through!
"I'm fine," he said again, but wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if Draco had asked if he was or not.
Strong hands wrapped around his midriff. Draco pulled him closer, and then he was sitting in the blonde's lap. He buried his face into Draco's chest, still weeping and trying to stop. He hadn't died. He was okay. Why was he acting like this?
Fingers ran through his hair, stroking. It was calming. "Yeah, Ron. You're okay." Draco kissed his forehead lightly, surprising both teens immensely.
And then Ron began to cry harder. But not because he still felt some imaginary lingering pain of the Cruciatus Curse. Not because his wrist was hurting and he was worried he wouldn't find his wand, or that he and Draco would both be in a lot of trouble. But because he was happy.
Now he knew. He knew that he'd been wrong earlier. The kisses _had_ meant something. Everything that had happened during this crazy holiday had meant something.
Ron was falling in love with Draco Malfoy, if he hadn't already fallen. And, if he wasn't sorely mistaken, Draco Malfoy was falling in love with him.
Slightly calmer, he enjoyed the feeling of hands running through his hair. What would Hermionie say? Or Harry? He thought back, remembering all of the cruel and hateful things Draco and his lackeys had done to the Famous Trio throughout the years, and frowned.
Harry and Hermionie didn't have to know a thing. And, okay, maybe it wasn't something as strong as love. Maybe it was just lust. But it was certainly a feeling of _something_ and that feeling had just increased tenfold.
*******
If Draco had wanted to do away with Ron Weasley tonight, he would've lured or forced him out of Hogwarts castle, killed him, and then left his corpse to be eaten by the horrors that lived in the Forbidden Forest.
The blonde cringed, still stroking Ron's hair. He hadn't wanted to do away with the redhead, of course, but once he'd stepped out of Snape's office he'd decided the Forbidden Forest was as good a place as any to start looking for the missing boy.
Unfortunately, or (now that Draco thought about it) fortunately, just as he'd been pushing open the door leading outside both Dumbledore and Snape had come hurrying down the marble staircase, breathing hard.
So Snape hadn't been taking his sweet time after all. Well, that or Dumbledore had insisted they hurry.
"Mr. Malfoy? What are you doing?" It was Dumbledore who spotted him, standing there holding the door open, poised to go outside. The old man's eyes had widened slightly behind those little glasses.
"Looking for Ron," he'd answered.
Snape had given him a funny look then. As if the Professor was thinking that maybe his favorite student had gone totally bonkers, or was some intruder under the influence of, say, Polyjuice potion. Because, regularly, he never called Ron by his first name. Regularly, he wouldn't have been wandering the halls with a couple of Gryffindors. Regularly, he wouldn't have been looking for a missing Ron.
"Of course," Dumbledore had said. "We'll get to that right away if you'll just explain to me what's going on. Now, if you'd follow-"
Draco had frowned, looking towards the forest. "There isn't time. Ask Ginny and Harvey. They'll give you the general idea."
"Going off looking for him alone when danger is afoot isn't wise," had commented Snape. But Draco hadn't been listening. Because there had been several flashes of light within the forest. Spells.
He had run then. Sprinted towards the forest. He imagined that Dumbledore and Snape had stumbled after him, because he'd heard their frantic yelling. They'd be coming soon. And he was here, with Ron on his lap and a stupified first year lying nearby.
It was okay, though. He didn't mind the Ron on his lap part. Although he _did_ feel like killing the first year.
Draco sighed. He'd heard Macnair cast an unforgivable curse. On Ron. He hadn't gotten here in time to stop it. /He's alright though,/ he assured himself. /He's fine./
The awkward feelings and hormonal-induced lust for Ron that had been stewing within him for close to five years had finally come to the surface. He could admit everything to himself now. Admit everything to Ron.
The blonde smiled a little when he noticed Ron had fallen asleep. He held the boy closer.
Draco Malfoy was pretty sure he was in lo...er, lust.
In his arms, Ron gave a contented, sleepy sigh.
No. Damn sure he was in...something.
Written By: Nox2 (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
A/N: It took me forever and a day to update, I know. I want to apologize to all of the readers profusely. Real Life kinda' got in the way of my writing for a while. Work, School, Etc. However, I _did_ manage to finish this story! I hope you all enjoy it! And a million thank you's to every reviewer! ^_^ v The last chapter should be up soon. It's all written, I just need to edit it!
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Draco was seething. He was leaning against the stone wall, staring at the closed door of the office, internally cursing Snape. Images of Ron in several not-so-good situations, hurt and bleeding, flashed through his mind. He should be doing something. _Anything_, to find Ron.
Severus Snape had always been a likable man, in Malfoy's opinion. Witty, fair, and just plain _likable_. Yes, the potions instructor was a man Draco had always greatly admired. Until now. Until he'd seen the way the greasy-haired Professor had snapped at Harvey and Ginny. Especially poor Ginny, who's older brother was missing. No "May I ask what you're doing in the corridors at this time?" No "Are you all okay?" Even after overhearing bits and pieces of their conversation, he'd gone to Draco's defense immediately. Something about being bullied. And Draco hadn't needed defense.
"I think you should tell Dumbledore," Snape had said. But that was before the three teens had yelled an agreement. Before the blonde had deemed the word of two Gryffindor's honorable. Ginny's brother _was_ missing, and they'd gladly tell the Headmaster all about it.
To Snape that meant no enjoyable punishments. No point deductions. No consequences. At least not immediately. And that didn't make him happy.
Telling Severus everything would've been a waste of time. The man would've harped on the fact that Ron had been out after hours several times instead of the fact that the redhead was missing, and very obviously in danger. He would've complained over Weasley getting so little a punishment after leaving campus for Hogsmeade. All in all, the Professor would've taken much too long to get Dumbledore, or to take action. Refusing to speak unless the Headmaster was in their presence had been a good move.
Or so Draco had thought. Snape was taking too damn long.
"I'm sorry." Harvey's voice broke the quiet. Both Draco and Ginny turned to look at him.
The Ravenclaw was as pale as a ghost. His hands were shaking slightly, and his eyes were anguished. "I shouldn't have slammed Ron up against the wall like that. I shouldn't have threatened him. I- "
"Forget it." The air was frigid. There was no sign of Dumbledore or Snape. Ron could be dead. Draco sure as hell didn't want to deal with Harvey's regrets. Not now. He felt nervous and jumpy. He had to _do_ something. He had crossed the room and opened the door within seconds. "Stay here and tell Dumbledore what you know."
Looking terrified, Ginny ran to grab his shoulder. "What are you going to do? Where are you going?"
Draco smirked. "To play hero."
*******
"John. John Macnair."
Macnair? Ron knew that name. Somehow, he knew it. It was a faint itch at the back of his mind, but there wasn't time for thinking.
Though scared, the redhead wasn't frozen. Though without his wand, Ron didn't feel all hope was lost. His Figure In Robes wasn't a powerful Death Eater, or Voldemort's right-hand man after all. It was an eleven-year-old boy. And though the boy obviously had knowledge of very dangerous spells, the situation just didn't seem as bad as it could've been.
_Harvey_ would've been worse than this.
"I suppose you'd like to know why I went after you instead of Potter," began John, and Ron realized that the boy was going through with the customary villain-explains-all speech.
He didn't listen. Instead, he wondered if ramming the kid would be too risky. There was no doubt Ron could overpower John, but the first year might be able to fire off a spell before hitting the ground, which wouldn't do at all.
"....Harry had too many eyes on him. Dumbledore, the Professors, _everybody_ looks out for the Boy Who Lived. So I thought- Hey!"
Ron ran.
He turned and sprinted from the clearing, John's curses booming behind him. Snow crunched underfoot, a blue beam of light nearly grazed his cheek, another beam just missed his heels. John was firing spells at him, furious.
Ron was no longer glad about Macnair being the stalker. With the sound of John's yelling and the flashing of dangerous spells had come a frightening realization. How could he have been so stupid? The first year was deadly.
In a classic damsel in distress move, Ron tripped. The tip of his shoe collided with a large root that was jutting out of the ground, partially hidden by the thick layers of snow. He ended up on all fours, his palms scraped and red, his knees bruised. "Shit."
He forced himself up, yet another spell hitting the spot where he'd been only a moment before. Ron limped on, towards the castle. Towards Hogwarts because Dumbledore would know what to do. Because he'd be saved. Because Draco would be there, and that somehow made it the best place to be.
And then the unexpected happened.
In a not-so-classic pursuing villain move, John tripped. Ron heard the boy cry out and chanced a look back, only to be met with the pleasurable sight of the first year falling face-first into the snow. The boy coughed and sputtered. His wand went flying.
Ron didn't see where the weapon landed. It didn't matter. Thanking his lucky stars, the redhead grabbed the first potential weapon he spotted: A thin, sturdy tree limb that was lying on the ground.
He couldn't just leave John here. On one hand that could give the boy a chance to escape, leaving him free to do whatever evil deeds he desired to do. On the other, there was always the chance that Macnair would somehow find his wand, catch up to Ron before he could reach the castle and...Well, no good would come of that.
The only option was to knock John out. _Then_ he'd go for Dumbledore.
"Bastard," spat Ron angrily before gripping the limb and swinging it at John's head.
CRACK.
Ron blinked. Crack? Wasn't the sound of impact supposed to be more of a thunk? And why wasn't John limp and unconscious?
Slowly, he lifted the limb and examined it. "Hey, I found it," he said and gave a nervous little laugh. It turned out he was holding not a tree limb, but the school broomstick that he'd used on the trip to Hogsmeade. The broomstick he'd ended up losing because of that stupid spider. John's skull had broken the broom, and a portion of it hung limply to one side.
Well, he'd always believed the things were cheap.
"That hurt, you jerk!" The eleven-year-old managed to stand. His face was red with cold and anger, and his eyes looked slightly unfocused. He had his wand at hand. Apparently it hadn't flown far.
Ron's examination of the damned broom had cost him. He clenched his teeth, angry. "Jerk?! You're the one trying to kill me!"
"The one that _is_ killing you. Crucio!"
Harry had told Ron that this unforgivable curse had been cast on him during his brief stay in the cemetery with Voldemort. Ron himself had seen the spell demonstrated on a spider before. The thing had writhed in agony. Harry had tried to describe the horrid pain in one of his more emotional, sharing moments. Tried to. But this pain seemed almost indescribable.
Ron's body was on fire. He could feel the pain down into his bones. His eyes were rolling back in his head, and he dimly registered that he'd fallen to his knees. A horrible, keening sound was coming from his lips. He was hardly aware of it. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted to die...
It stopped.
There was a ringing in his ears. He stayed put, breathing hard. After a moment he realized John was laughing at him. A sick laugh. Ron imagined Voldemort's laugh might sound exactly like it.
The redhead had almost caught his breath when the first year raised his wand again, a look of pleasure upon his face. "Cruc-!"
"EXPELLIARMUS! STUPIFY!"
It took all of a split second for John's wand to fly out of his hand. And then he fell.
"Holy crap! Are you okay?"
It was Draco. The _real_ Draco. He was breathing hard, and his face was flushed. "I heard him! He cast...he...That fucking asshole!"
Ron couldn't speak. He was still on his bruised knees, staring at the prone form of John Macnair.
Macnair. He remembered now. Back in third year there had been an executioner sent to the school to kill the Hippogriff that had attacked Draco. This was the boy that belonged to Lucious Malfoy's friend, a Death Eater named Walden Macnair.
Draco came closer and nudged John with his foot. "I don't get it. Who is this?"
"John Macnair."
A look of understanding came to Draco. The teen nodded, and his eyes darkened as he glared down at the defeated boy. "Oh." Ron didn't bother to ask how Draco knew about the Macnair's.
Ron's wrist was hurting. Again. It was the same wrist he'd injured before, but he couldn't remember if he'd hurt it when he'd tripped over the root, or when he'd fallen to the ground in pain from John's spell. It didn't matter. Either way, it hurt.
His whole body was aching. Like an aftershock to crucio. A memory of the complete agony. It had hurt so badly...He would take death over pain like that any day.
Suddenly the blonde was near him. Draco sat on the ground. He lifted his hand, hesitated, and then brushed Ron's cheek softly with his knuckles. Ron realized there were tears leaking from his eyes. He'd been so scared.... He hadn't realized that he'd started to cry.
"I'm okay," he said, wiping at his eyes. "I'm f-fine." He had to get up. Had to retrace his steps to the clearing and retrieve his wand. Had to go to the infirmary and get his wrist checked. Had to get Dumbledore over here. "We gotta' get the Headmaster."
"He's coming," said Draco.
"Coming?" It was useless, the wiping his eyes, because he couldn't seem to stop crying. He felt stupid. And he felt, suddenly, that Harry Potter deserved a whole hell of a lot more fame and appreciation then he'd ever been given. What the guy must've gone through!
"I'm fine," he said again, but wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if Draco had asked if he was or not.
Strong hands wrapped around his midriff. Draco pulled him closer, and then he was sitting in the blonde's lap. He buried his face into Draco's chest, still weeping and trying to stop. He hadn't died. He was okay. Why was he acting like this?
Fingers ran through his hair, stroking. It was calming. "Yeah, Ron. You're okay." Draco kissed his forehead lightly, surprising both teens immensely.
And then Ron began to cry harder. But not because he still felt some imaginary lingering pain of the Cruciatus Curse. Not because his wrist was hurting and he was worried he wouldn't find his wand, or that he and Draco would both be in a lot of trouble. But because he was happy.
Now he knew. He knew that he'd been wrong earlier. The kisses _had_ meant something. Everything that had happened during this crazy holiday had meant something.
Ron was falling in love with Draco Malfoy, if he hadn't already fallen. And, if he wasn't sorely mistaken, Draco Malfoy was falling in love with him.
Slightly calmer, he enjoyed the feeling of hands running through his hair. What would Hermionie say? Or Harry? He thought back, remembering all of the cruel and hateful things Draco and his lackeys had done to the Famous Trio throughout the years, and frowned.
Harry and Hermionie didn't have to know a thing. And, okay, maybe it wasn't something as strong as love. Maybe it was just lust. But it was certainly a feeling of _something_ and that feeling had just increased tenfold.
*******
If Draco had wanted to do away with Ron Weasley tonight, he would've lured or forced him out of Hogwarts castle, killed him, and then left his corpse to be eaten by the horrors that lived in the Forbidden Forest.
The blonde cringed, still stroking Ron's hair. He hadn't wanted to do away with the redhead, of course, but once he'd stepped out of Snape's office he'd decided the Forbidden Forest was as good a place as any to start looking for the missing boy.
Unfortunately, or (now that Draco thought about it) fortunately, just as he'd been pushing open the door leading outside both Dumbledore and Snape had come hurrying down the marble staircase, breathing hard.
So Snape hadn't been taking his sweet time after all. Well, that or Dumbledore had insisted they hurry.
"Mr. Malfoy? What are you doing?" It was Dumbledore who spotted him, standing there holding the door open, poised to go outside. The old man's eyes had widened slightly behind those little glasses.
"Looking for Ron," he'd answered.
Snape had given him a funny look then. As if the Professor was thinking that maybe his favorite student had gone totally bonkers, or was some intruder under the influence of, say, Polyjuice potion. Because, regularly, he never called Ron by his first name. Regularly, he wouldn't have been wandering the halls with a couple of Gryffindors. Regularly, he wouldn't have been looking for a missing Ron.
"Of course," Dumbledore had said. "We'll get to that right away if you'll just explain to me what's going on. Now, if you'd follow-"
Draco had frowned, looking towards the forest. "There isn't time. Ask Ginny and Harvey. They'll give you the general idea."
"Going off looking for him alone when danger is afoot isn't wise," had commented Snape. But Draco hadn't been listening. Because there had been several flashes of light within the forest. Spells.
He had run then. Sprinted towards the forest. He imagined that Dumbledore and Snape had stumbled after him, because he'd heard their frantic yelling. They'd be coming soon. And he was here, with Ron on his lap and a stupified first year lying nearby.
It was okay, though. He didn't mind the Ron on his lap part. Although he _did_ feel like killing the first year.
Draco sighed. He'd heard Macnair cast an unforgivable curse. On Ron. He hadn't gotten here in time to stop it. /He's alright though,/ he assured himself. /He's fine./
The awkward feelings and hormonal-induced lust for Ron that had been stewing within him for close to five years had finally come to the surface. He could admit everything to himself now. Admit everything to Ron.
The blonde smiled a little when he noticed Ron had fallen asleep. He held the boy closer.
Draco Malfoy was pretty sure he was in lo...er, lust.
In his arms, Ron gave a contented, sleepy sigh.
No. Damn sure he was in...something.