Breaking The Stone
Written By: Nox2 (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
A/N: I'm done! Finished! Here it is folks, and I hope you all like it. This is not exactly how I was expecting it to end. Then again, this wasn't supposed to be a fourteen part fic either... : ) Over sixty reviews (thank you, thank you!), and I can't believe it! I've been inspired to write more fanfics, Harry Potter and otherwise, so if you're interested I should be coming out with something soon. Something slashy, of course : ) Well, enough rambling, on with the ending of the fic! Please enjoy! And thanks again to all readers and reviewers (I know I've repeated this a lot, I'm just very grateful). : )
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"Really! In the infirmary twice in one Winter Vacation! It's ridiculous! And, imagine, the Headmaster refusing to tell me what happened! Humph."
Feeling sweaty and miserable, Ron woke to the loud complaints of Madam Pomfrey. He could sense the sunlight that was streaming through the curtainless windows, falling across his face. Slowly, he opened his eyes, taking in the sight of several heavy blankets piled atop his body and of the school's plump, little nurse across the room, muttering to herself and straightening the sheet on one of the cots.
Pomfrey didn't notice at first that Ron was awake. She continued her mumbling, shaking her head and pursing her lips until the redhead opened his mouth to speak, only to discover that it was as dry as cotton, along with his throat. He began to cough. A dry and fiery cough that was incredibly painful. There was a surprised "oh!" and then a cool cloth was being pressed to his forehead and a rather delightful-tasting concoction was being poured into his mouth.
"Oh good. You're awake, Mr. Weasley."
Recovering from his coughing fit, Ron pushed away the potion being held to his lips and turned his attention to Dumbledore, who was standing in the doorway.
Both of them pointedly ignored Miss Pomfrey's frown of disapproval.
"He's well enough to speak with me for a moment, Poppy?"
The woman wrinkled her nose in what seemed to be an angry fashion. "Well, yes, I suppose he _could_ sit up for a bit. But I wouldn't recommend it."
The old wizard strode across the room, pulled a chair close to Ron's cot, and sat. "Thank you, Poppy. I'll be quick about it." The nurse left the room hurriedly, a door slamming loudly behind her.
Ron took a deep, calming breath before using his elbows to hoist himself up to a sitting position. Harry had told the redhead about the several talks he'd had with Dumbledore throughout the years. It seemed each one brought more and more bad news. He hoped this wouldn't be one of those talks, though he doubted immensely that it wouldn't be.
"Is Draco alright?" It was the first thing that came to mind. The first thing that seemed appropriate to ask, but once he realized he'd said it, Weasley very nearly turned as red as a tomato. Damn was it hard for him to hide embarrassment.
Dumbledore's first reaction was to look very surprised, though he soon reverted to just having an odd twinkle in his eye. "He's fine, Mr. Weasley. I believe he'll be visiting you shortly, if Madam Pomfrey permits him to."
"Just wondering," said Ron, hoping that he was at least successfully hiding the twinge of disappointment he felt. Why would Draco _want_ to see him? He'd acted like such a wimp last night. He'd cried! What was he thinking when he'd assumed Draco must like him? No one would ever like a blubbering fool like him.
"Now, about the events of last night, Mr. Weasley..." Ron told the Headmaster everything that had happened. He told him about he and Draco overhearing him telling Hagrid to "keep an eye" on someone that first night of vacation. He told him about seeing Macnair out on the Quidditch Pitch. About sneaking off at night to get something to eat. About meeting up with Draco and eventually getting hit in the chest with a spell. About Harvey, Ginny, and Fake Draco, and the broom... everything. With the exception of some more personal details. Dumbledore certainly didn't need to know about _that_. It was apparent that nothing was going to become of the odd moments he and Draco had been sharing, anyhow.
"What about Macnair? What's going to happen to him?"
Dumbledore shook his head, looking upset. "I don't know."
Ron blinked. "You don't know? What do you mean?"
"I'm afraid young Mr. Macnair has...disappeared."
There was a brief moment of silence in which Ron stared at the Headmaster in disbelief. Disappeared? People didn't just disappear from Hogwarts. Especially certain son-of-a-Death-Eater evil people who'd tried to kill him. What about the no-apparation barrier? What about everything that was written down in "Hogwarts, A History"? The redhead blinked again. "Huh?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat. Ron thought the old man was probably wishing for a lemon drop. "John Macnair has disappeared. Once Professor Snape and I had located the three of you boys in the forest, we immediately reinforced Mr. Malfoy's spells and took John into custody. While both you and Mr. Malfoy were here in the infirmary I myself was keeping an eye on the boy, trying to figure out what I was going to do with him. I mean, him being only eleven, and his father already in custody-"
"So you knew?" Ron cut the Headmaster off, realizing it was a rather stupid question after he'd asked it. Of course Dumbledore had known John was a Death Eater's son. He was _Dumbledore_, after all. He'd probably wanted to give John a chance, or some nonsense like that. He was a Death Eater's son. How could any good come of him?
Weasley bit at his dry lower lip, flashes of last night coming back to him. Then again, he supposed not all Death Eater's sons were pure evil...
"Yes, I knew. And as I was saying, I was watching Mr. Macnair myself. He simply disappeared. Poof, and he was gone." The Headmaster frowned. "I'm guessing Tom had something to do with this."
"Tom?" A pause. "Oh. You-Know-Who." So Voldemort had John now. The Dark Lord had broken through Hogwarts' security just to get back an eleven-year-old boy. Why take such drastic measures? There was no point. It wasn't as if Voldemort cared about his people's welfare. Unless, of course, John had known something. "He's got a plan. He's going to do something."
"I know," said Dumbledore, nodding. And the Headmaster didn't have to ask to figure out who the 'He' was.
A soft knock startled them both. They turned to find Draco standing in the doorway. The blonde was dressed in a dark, tight-fitting sweater and a light-colored, slightly baggy pair of slacks.
"Ah! Mr. Malfoy, you're back. Good, good. Mr. Weasley and I were just finishing up." Albus stood and patted Ron on the shoulder. "Feel better soon, Mr. Weasley." He crossed the room, stepped around Malfoy, and was gone.
"Hey." Draco looked almost nervous. He took a deep breath, headed towards Ron, and took the seat Dumbledore had vacated. "Feeling okay?"
Ron snorted. "Never better."
An uncomfortable pause ensued. Draco, of all things, fidgeted while Ron tortured himself with the memory of just how idiotic he'd acted the night before.
"Draco," he began, steeling himself. "About last night...Well, you know, it was stupid. The way I acted, I mean." He stopped for a moment to think, only to be cut short.
"Stupid? You didn't act stupid Ron. It wasn't your head I wanted to rip off. It wasn't you trying to kill someone."
Confused, the redhead shook his head. "But I thought you'd be disgusted. I thought, maybe..." He trailed off, hands curling into fists.
"You thought wrong. Here." A small package wrapped in festive paper was placed beside him. Surprised, Ron picked it up. "It's a little early, but, Happy Christmas anyway."
"Christmas? Oh, but I didn't get you anything, Draco." Ron was feeling incredibly happy, anxious, and embarrassed all at the same time. This must mean what he was thinking it meant. Draco actually...cared for him?
"Well, I don't blame you. You _were_ kinda' unconscious this morning. You can just get me something later." He was smirking that oh-so-Malfoy smirk, and Ron found he didn't hate it quite so much anymore.
"So that's where you were when I woke up? That's what Dumbledore meant when he said you were back?"
Draco just shrugged, looking impatient. "Open it."
/Weird./ In a daze, he ripped away the paper. /Really weird./
"Holy shit."
The blonde frowned, running a hand through his hair. "Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for."
Ron smiled. "No, it's great. Just...wow." The redhead found he couldn't quite think clearly. In his hands were the very rare Agrippa and Ptolemy cards, brand new and specially packaged. And all thanks to one Draco Malfoy, his former enemy.
Weasley looked up, surprised to see the other teen wizard looking slightly embarrassed. "No big deal," said Draco, and Ron took the time to look at that blonde hair, those incredible light eyes....
He leaned towards the platinum-haired wizard and soon they were kissing a heated, wet kiss. So what if they'd be going back to classes, and cliques, and Professors soon? So what if Draco was Lucius Malfoy's son? So what if Voldemort had something up his sleeve? They'd deal with all of that in time. None of that mattered now. None of it mattered at all.
It was a long time before they stopped to breathe.
Written By: Nox2 (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
A/N: I'm done! Finished! Here it is folks, and I hope you all like it. This is not exactly how I was expecting it to end. Then again, this wasn't supposed to be a fourteen part fic either... : ) Over sixty reviews (thank you, thank you!), and I can't believe it! I've been inspired to write more fanfics, Harry Potter and otherwise, so if you're interested I should be coming out with something soon. Something slashy, of course : ) Well, enough rambling, on with the ending of the fic! Please enjoy! And thanks again to all readers and reviewers (I know I've repeated this a lot, I'm just very grateful). : )
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"Really! In the infirmary twice in one Winter Vacation! It's ridiculous! And, imagine, the Headmaster refusing to tell me what happened! Humph."
Feeling sweaty and miserable, Ron woke to the loud complaints of Madam Pomfrey. He could sense the sunlight that was streaming through the curtainless windows, falling across his face. Slowly, he opened his eyes, taking in the sight of several heavy blankets piled atop his body and of the school's plump, little nurse across the room, muttering to herself and straightening the sheet on one of the cots.
Pomfrey didn't notice at first that Ron was awake. She continued her mumbling, shaking her head and pursing her lips until the redhead opened his mouth to speak, only to discover that it was as dry as cotton, along with his throat. He began to cough. A dry and fiery cough that was incredibly painful. There was a surprised "oh!" and then a cool cloth was being pressed to his forehead and a rather delightful-tasting concoction was being poured into his mouth.
"Oh good. You're awake, Mr. Weasley."
Recovering from his coughing fit, Ron pushed away the potion being held to his lips and turned his attention to Dumbledore, who was standing in the doorway.
Both of them pointedly ignored Miss Pomfrey's frown of disapproval.
"He's well enough to speak with me for a moment, Poppy?"
The woman wrinkled her nose in what seemed to be an angry fashion. "Well, yes, I suppose he _could_ sit up for a bit. But I wouldn't recommend it."
The old wizard strode across the room, pulled a chair close to Ron's cot, and sat. "Thank you, Poppy. I'll be quick about it." The nurse left the room hurriedly, a door slamming loudly behind her.
Ron took a deep, calming breath before using his elbows to hoist himself up to a sitting position. Harry had told the redhead about the several talks he'd had with Dumbledore throughout the years. It seemed each one brought more and more bad news. He hoped this wouldn't be one of those talks, though he doubted immensely that it wouldn't be.
"Is Draco alright?" It was the first thing that came to mind. The first thing that seemed appropriate to ask, but once he realized he'd said it, Weasley very nearly turned as red as a tomato. Damn was it hard for him to hide embarrassment.
Dumbledore's first reaction was to look very surprised, though he soon reverted to just having an odd twinkle in his eye. "He's fine, Mr. Weasley. I believe he'll be visiting you shortly, if Madam Pomfrey permits him to."
"Just wondering," said Ron, hoping that he was at least successfully hiding the twinge of disappointment he felt. Why would Draco _want_ to see him? He'd acted like such a wimp last night. He'd cried! What was he thinking when he'd assumed Draco must like him? No one would ever like a blubbering fool like him.
"Now, about the events of last night, Mr. Weasley..." Ron told the Headmaster everything that had happened. He told him about he and Draco overhearing him telling Hagrid to "keep an eye" on someone that first night of vacation. He told him about seeing Macnair out on the Quidditch Pitch. About sneaking off at night to get something to eat. About meeting up with Draco and eventually getting hit in the chest with a spell. About Harvey, Ginny, and Fake Draco, and the broom... everything. With the exception of some more personal details. Dumbledore certainly didn't need to know about _that_. It was apparent that nothing was going to become of the odd moments he and Draco had been sharing, anyhow.
"What about Macnair? What's going to happen to him?"
Dumbledore shook his head, looking upset. "I don't know."
Ron blinked. "You don't know? What do you mean?"
"I'm afraid young Mr. Macnair has...disappeared."
There was a brief moment of silence in which Ron stared at the Headmaster in disbelief. Disappeared? People didn't just disappear from Hogwarts. Especially certain son-of-a-Death-Eater evil people who'd tried to kill him. What about the no-apparation barrier? What about everything that was written down in "Hogwarts, A History"? The redhead blinked again. "Huh?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat. Ron thought the old man was probably wishing for a lemon drop. "John Macnair has disappeared. Once Professor Snape and I had located the three of you boys in the forest, we immediately reinforced Mr. Malfoy's spells and took John into custody. While both you and Mr. Malfoy were here in the infirmary I myself was keeping an eye on the boy, trying to figure out what I was going to do with him. I mean, him being only eleven, and his father already in custody-"
"So you knew?" Ron cut the Headmaster off, realizing it was a rather stupid question after he'd asked it. Of course Dumbledore had known John was a Death Eater's son. He was _Dumbledore_, after all. He'd probably wanted to give John a chance, or some nonsense like that. He was a Death Eater's son. How could any good come of him?
Weasley bit at his dry lower lip, flashes of last night coming back to him. Then again, he supposed not all Death Eater's sons were pure evil...
"Yes, I knew. And as I was saying, I was watching Mr. Macnair myself. He simply disappeared. Poof, and he was gone." The Headmaster frowned. "I'm guessing Tom had something to do with this."
"Tom?" A pause. "Oh. You-Know-Who." So Voldemort had John now. The Dark Lord had broken through Hogwarts' security just to get back an eleven-year-old boy. Why take such drastic measures? There was no point. It wasn't as if Voldemort cared about his people's welfare. Unless, of course, John had known something. "He's got a plan. He's going to do something."
"I know," said Dumbledore, nodding. And the Headmaster didn't have to ask to figure out who the 'He' was.
A soft knock startled them both. They turned to find Draco standing in the doorway. The blonde was dressed in a dark, tight-fitting sweater and a light-colored, slightly baggy pair of slacks.
"Ah! Mr. Malfoy, you're back. Good, good. Mr. Weasley and I were just finishing up." Albus stood and patted Ron on the shoulder. "Feel better soon, Mr. Weasley." He crossed the room, stepped around Malfoy, and was gone.
"Hey." Draco looked almost nervous. He took a deep breath, headed towards Ron, and took the seat Dumbledore had vacated. "Feeling okay?"
Ron snorted. "Never better."
An uncomfortable pause ensued. Draco, of all things, fidgeted while Ron tortured himself with the memory of just how idiotic he'd acted the night before.
"Draco," he began, steeling himself. "About last night...Well, you know, it was stupid. The way I acted, I mean." He stopped for a moment to think, only to be cut short.
"Stupid? You didn't act stupid Ron. It wasn't your head I wanted to rip off. It wasn't you trying to kill someone."
Confused, the redhead shook his head. "But I thought you'd be disgusted. I thought, maybe..." He trailed off, hands curling into fists.
"You thought wrong. Here." A small package wrapped in festive paper was placed beside him. Surprised, Ron picked it up. "It's a little early, but, Happy Christmas anyway."
"Christmas? Oh, but I didn't get you anything, Draco." Ron was feeling incredibly happy, anxious, and embarrassed all at the same time. This must mean what he was thinking it meant. Draco actually...cared for him?
"Well, I don't blame you. You _were_ kinda' unconscious this morning. You can just get me something later." He was smirking that oh-so-Malfoy smirk, and Ron found he didn't hate it quite so much anymore.
"So that's where you were when I woke up? That's what Dumbledore meant when he said you were back?"
Draco just shrugged, looking impatient. "Open it."
/Weird./ In a daze, he ripped away the paper. /Really weird./
"Holy shit."
The blonde frowned, running a hand through his hair. "Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for."
Ron smiled. "No, it's great. Just...wow." The redhead found he couldn't quite think clearly. In his hands were the very rare Agrippa and Ptolemy cards, brand new and specially packaged. And all thanks to one Draco Malfoy, his former enemy.
Weasley looked up, surprised to see the other teen wizard looking slightly embarrassed. "No big deal," said Draco, and Ron took the time to look at that blonde hair, those incredible light eyes....
He leaned towards the platinum-haired wizard and soon they were kissing a heated, wet kiss. So what if they'd be going back to classes, and cliques, and Professors soon? So what if Draco was Lucius Malfoy's son? So what if Voldemort had something up his sleeve? They'd deal with all of that in time. None of that mattered now. None of it mattered at all.
It was a long time before they stopped to breathe.