Chapter three: The detention
Love in its truest form has no language or words,
it just has a thousand and one actions we all wish
we could describe.
Ron was panting uncontrollably as he walked towards the Gryffindor common room. He was shaking so bad, he thought he might pass out any moment. His ragged breath came out in large puffs of stream-like cloud from his mouth, contrasting with the black and cold atmosphere. A mere sound could make the very hairs of Ron's neck stand on end. Unfortunately, it wasn't only anger that he felt in his soul; it was resentment towards himself.
I can't believe I fell in his trap again! I can't do this any more! God...
He had answered to Draco's taunting once again. He had let his boiling temper aim his knuckles right into the blonde's stomach, legs, arms, everywhere. Most frighteningly, he felt good. The serpent in him was fed with the feel of the boy's smooth skin between the numerous hits, with the harsh breathing in the redhead's face when the fight had become unbearable both physically and mentally, with the painful bite that stung on his trembling lips. Everything about that quick and impulsive struggle between him and the Slitherin made Ron feel content and annoyed at the same time. Content- for soothing that deep ache in the pit of his stomach that was getting more prominant with every glance he got from Draco. That pain, taking over his heart, filling it with the need to make him pay for every remark, every spightful smirk. And annoyance for caring in the first place.
Why do I hate him so much?
You didn't hate him so much a minute ago, bad boy.
Where the fuck did you come from?
I'm your concience, stupid. And wipe that dirty mouth of yours, why don't you?
Oh, fuck off! You're the last thing I need right now!
I think you need me much more than you think, Ronnie. Have you ever stopped to think really why you care so much about the Draco boy?
Because he's a prick, that's why!
Not quite but you're getting warmer. Make sure to holler when you figure it out. I'm sure you'll be surprised to the roots of that lovely flaming red hair of yours!
Hey,who do you think you are, anyway? Dumbledore? And besides, I thought I told you to FUCK OFF!/ Silence.../Ah, much better!
Talking to yourself was definitely a bad sign. And craziness along with a split personality was not on the redhead's most desirable things list. Ron simply decided, as he opened the portrait hole ("Well, I never!"), that he was going to avoid the prat. Yeah,that was it! If he wasn't able to start a fight, then there was nothing to worry about! Wherever Draco went, the Gryffindor would be at least 10 miles away. Except for the detention. The dreaded detention!
#$
When he entered the appearingly empty common room, Ron had his feelings in a slight bit of control. As he went to the stairs that led to the boys' dorm room, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a sniff, coming a step or so away from him. The boy turned around as fast as lightning with the wand prepared in his right hand, even though he just couldn't picture Voldemort crying his heart out in the grounds of Hogwarts, or anywhere else for that matter. So, when he saw none other than Hermione sitting in one of the comfiest armchairs in a darkened corner, while wiping her eyes with a hankerchief, Ron felt a deep pang of regret. In all the chaos around the fight, he had completely forgotten what was the reason for it in the first place.
" Herms?" Tried tantavily the redhead, while walking as quietly and smoothly as he could where the girl in question was sitting. Her blood-shot eyes went emediately up, in search of the intruder and when they finally rested on Ron it was as if the sadness in them doubled. Seeing her so broken, Ron felt his heart swell with compassion towards his best friend and in complete loathing towards a certain blond. Instead of indulging himself in that last matter for God knows which time, however, the Gryffindor decided that there were more pressing matters.
" What are you doing here? Where have you been?" Asked Hermione in a voice that Ron couldn't quite recognise. She didn't even try to brush off the tears that were freely streaming down her red cheeks.
" Well, let's just say I'll leave it for tomorrow. Now, are you OK?" Ron asked, while sitting himself on the couch nearest to the armchair in which the girl was curled up.
" You had a fight, didn't you?" Big surprise! Hermione knows exactly what I'm doing at any time!
" Kinda. But how do you know?" The boy questionned in a voice that held a tinge of admiration.
" I may be a know-it-all, Ron, but I'm not blind. When I see a bloody lip and a swollen eye, it doesn't quite exactly leave me guessing. Come here!" As the redhead changed places with Hermoine, so that she was sitting in his lap, she got out a clean hankerchief and started wiping carefully his damaged lip. In the formed comfortable silence they just looked at each other, letting the time easily pass by.
" There!" Whispered Hermione as she put the dirty thing on the table, after which she continued staring at the flames, refusing to meet Ron's gaze.
" Hermione...listen...You have to admit that it wasn't my fault! Malfoy messed up my potion, so that Snape would choose me and then him for testing the potion. It looked pretty much planned out. I mean how could I have known that..." Ron trailed off, not wanting to repeat exactly what the Slitherin had made sure that the whole school now probably knew. He and Hermione had made a deal not to tell anyone what had happened that night.
"I know, Ron. It's just that now everyone will think that we've finally found each other and what a wonderful couple we'd make when everything that happened between us was nothing more than a drunken night in the Hogsmeade Hotel. It's not that it was bad but I think that we both felt that it wasn't what we wanted.I'm just sick of people suspecting something about me that isn't true." As she spoke that, the bushy-haired girl leaned her head on Ron's shoulder and put her hand on his chest. She could feel his steady heartbeat as a part of her own, as strong as Ron could feel hers. Their bond of companionship was so strong."With the rumours that will start now...I feel as if our friendship will be dirtied."
"Don't you dare think on it, Hermione, even for a second. Those lousy gossip-looking idiots don't deserve a glance from you", Ron soothed while he stroked the none too tidy head of his friend. Then, with an angered spark in his eye he continued, "Anyone who tells you something will wish he wasn't born. The little incident today will seem like a mere spanking." Ron growled, winning something between a sniff and a snort from Hermione. " I'll take care of you, Herms. Remeber that you're like a sister to me, even though we fight like two husbands", grinned the tall boy in his best goofy way. Being Hermione, she threw herself into Ron's arms hiccouphing and sobbing uncontrollably on his sweater. Unlike third year, the redhead patted her on the back in a comforting way, while whispering nothings in her ear.
"Oh, Ron! I never knew you had it in you! I will never ever refuse you my notes when you need them! I feel so much better!" The girl managed to squeek in between her brown locks. After a while her shaking subsided and she just hung onto Ron's shoulder limply, starting to fall asleep. The cracks from the fireplace and the comforting warmth served to relax Ron as well and to make him doze a little, now reassured that everything was back to normal.
"Hey, Herms, as much as I like all the getting intimate thing, I'd like to go to bed, ya know." Was Ron's muffled voice,coming out of the big bushy mess. The owner of it, jumped out of her dazed state and with a mumbled "Thank you"and a kiss on the cheek, stood up and disappeared up the girls' staircase. Ron looked after her with a feeling of content and while heading himself to the other part of the common room, he thought that the day hadn't been such a loss after all.
#$
The next day passed by like a blur for both boys- in between all the chaos of classes, homework, teachers' barking and more barking, the two couldn't feel at all when the day began and when it came to its close.
Draco, for example had been the talk of the day in his Slitherin group. Everybody now admired him even more then usual. He was the reason for the start of a whole new teasing of the Wholy Trio. Wherever Ron and Hermione went there was always an echoing " Go get her in the middle of Transfiguration, Weasley!" in the corridors. Thus leaving a very angry and seething redhead by the end of the day. He just couldn't wait to spill his frustration into the upcoming detention.
As for Draco, even if he was walking around a little stiffly ( he didn't dare going to Madame Pomphry for his brouses), he couldn't be feeling better. He was quite ready for another round. Aside from all the tension he could practically smell whenever Ron was near, his plan had worked out perfectly.
The only real problem was that the taste of the redhead's blood on his lips was yet to be erased, along with the feel of those long, slim legs stradling him. It wasn't that Draco had enjoyed the fire in the other boy's eyes, how they could penetrated his soul, just with a glance. Or that he was missing the strenght with which he had been pressed against the wall by that oh-so-perfect body. Come to think of it Draco couldn't care less. There was only the little fact that during the last 6 hours, his concentration wasn't on anything but red. Like right now, during dinner he was unconciously turning a crimson red apple in his hand. After a fraction of a second he realised what he was doing and put it back in its place, almost guiltily looking around. Cursing under his breath, he stood up and headed towards the entrance, wanting to be at peace just before the detention. Brushing off his classmates' calls after him, he almost ran through the doors, concentrating hard on not looking at the noisiest table. Pity he didn't, because if he had, he would have seen the object of his thoughts staring at him with a strange look.
Just thinking about Ron made him breathe hard. As he sat on one of the steps of a staircase leading towards the dungeons, Draco had to grip his ribcage to keep his heart from bursting out.
What the hell is wrong with me? He's just a poor, stupid, ugly Weasley!
But deep within him Draco knew that Ron wasn't to blame for his financial status. Actually, his pauverty was a part of his personality- the tattered robes, the hand-me-down books. Without them the redhead wouldn't be himself. Like Draco wouldn't be his arrogant-snobby self without all his money.
Plus the Slitherin couldn't deny that Ron was the most interesting person he had ever met. Infact, the only one that was always ready to start a heated argument, the only one from whom Draco actually provoqued some kind of reaction, an emotion. A feeling that the smaller boy hardly ever felt or if he did, he was told to surpress it. With the redhead, he could let his barriers down, he could breathe. With nobody else did Draco feel that deep sense of freedom to say, to feel, to want whatever he liked. As much as he hated the Gryffindor, he had to admit that their quarrels were like a light in the closing darkness around both of them. As much as he denied it, along with all the anger and desire to win everytime that the tall boy was concerned, Draco also felt good in his namesis' presence.
As for the stupid part, Draco had heard the rumors of Ron's sacrificing himself in the chess-room in first year to help his friends. The blond knew of his fierce loyalty and if anything else, it was admireable and extremely brave. Just imagining the redhead saying that he would lay his heart in a silver plate to Voldemort himself, just to make sure that his close-ones were alright, made Draco's heart swell with a sense of hope. Besides, Dumbledore couldn't have made him a Prefect just to fool around. And as far as his looks were concerned...
Yeah, but he's a Weasley! An ugly Weasley!
You didn't think he was ugly when his toned and muscular body pressed you against the wall or the floor, for that matter.
He's got red hair!
That glistens golden in the sunlight and is incredibly sexy when blown by the wind.
Ah, please! Who do you think you're kidding? His sense of fashion is worse than my grandma's!
It's not his fault he's poor.
But...he...um
Admit it! You find him so fucking gorgeous that you want to eat him alive! With wipped cream! Mmm...now, can you imagine that?
OK! OK! I get the idea! Damn, you don't have to rub it in!
No, you want to rub something else!
Piss off!
Draco let out a frustrated growl and stood up, more uncertain than ever that he could spend a whole evening with that!
&#
Ron had just watched the Slitherin standing from his seat and disappearing through the door as if he had a date with Voldemort, himself.
Hm,I won't be surprised if he did!
Something was definitely wrong here. Was Draco as flustered about their fight as he was? Was he that affected? Well, the tall boy was just going to have to wait to their detention, which on the other hand was after 20 minutes. He had still plenty of time but he couldn't help fidgeting and eating a lot more apple pie than he intended. Ok, so maybe he did intend to eat so much but it wasn't as if he was going to go fat. That was the only thing that Ron actually liked about his body. No matter how much he ate, all the enormous amount seemed to disappear in no less than 2 hours and he was already ready to devour the same, if not more. He may have been low on clothes or any other products but his mother always made sure that her children were fed to the point where they couldn't breathe. Maybe that was why Ron was in love with every type of chocolate; that was the only food which he couldn't eat like a starved boy. That was the reason for which now the boy poured pretty much the whole bottle of chocolate syrup and made Hemione almost yell:
"Watch out, Ron! You might actually drown, you know!" Hermione had tried her best not to be a know-it-all since their talk, but it seemed that her will was slowly failing her. Ron appreciated her attempt, anyway.
"I'm a growing boy, Hermione! Besides, I'll need all the energy I can get for the upcoming torture," quickly brushed off Ron the girl's comment, while practically making a pile on his plate with all the sweets that existed on the table.
"Speaking of which, you'll be horribly late if you don't hurry up!" Said Harry who hadn't dared speak too much during the whole day because he was more confused than everyone else in the school to realise his best friends had been sexually involved. Ron and Hermione were quite happy with him not interrogating them. All the snide remarks from the Slitherins were more than enough.
"Ah, don' wo'y Har'! I'll jus' have to wal' fas'er is all!" Came the redhead's answer that was almost entirely muffled by the large amount of chocolate in his mouth. Hermione did her best not to make a face of absolute disgust.
"Oh, damn Ron! We forgot to tell you that the short cut to the dungeons is completely drowned by a liquid that the proffesors didn't dare tell us about. They will clean it by tomorrow but it's out of limits right now! I think Peeves got a little more excited than usual.You better go and fast!" Whispered Harry with an utter look of shock and regret plastered on his face.
"Bloody hell!" Ron almost whimpered in surprise, after which he shot up from the bench spilling every dish that was in his reach, but then he couldn't care less. He fled out of the Great Hall with a speed that only a Weasley could muster. As he ran as fast his muscles could let him he quickly brushed his mouth on the sleeve of his robe because it was covered with chocolate quite visibly. His breath was already ragged when he reached the entrance to the dungeons. A cold wave brushed him with a chilling force that went all the way to his toes. His throat quickly started to feel numb from the low temperature and the deep gulps of air he took. By the time he finally reached the door and grabbed its handle in a rush, he could hardly stand. With the last of his strenght he wrenched it open, not paying attention to his dishelved state.
Inside, Draco was already pacing impatiently in the room as he had come 10 minutes earlear. The standing on the steps had gotten on his nerves, so he had preferred to wait in the classroom, instead. He had almost cleared his mind of all thoughts of the redhead boy but when he saw him standing at the doorway, breathing as if he had ran all the way from Hogsmeade, his clothes a crumpled mess, his hair in all directions and angles, cheeks and ears red( God, red! ), the events from yesterday fell down on him with an amazing force. Still, Merlin knew how, the blonde managed to keep his cool and instead of his jaw touching the floor in shock, he looked the barely standing boy up and down with all the smugness and arrogance he could muster.
" You know Weasley, mankind has actually invented a clock. I know you're poor but surely you aren't that forsaken!" Draco drowled in a mighty voice, while still staring at Ron so intecely that he thought he might burn a hole into him. He felt his heartbeat quickening even though he hadn't made so much as a twich. Draco, get a grip! It's just Weasley!
Ron couldn't answer right away because he felt like he might crumple on the ground if he made another sound. Instead, he barely walked to the nearest chair and practically threw himself on it. He could feel Draco's gaze on him but right now his brain cells were concentrating only on breathing in and breathing out. In- out! When he finally regained his breath he turned his eyes towards his namesis and his mind made a double take at the way the Slitherin was looking at him. It froze his very being! Brushing it aside as a trick of the sunlight pouring from the window, Ron braced himself for what was coming.
"For your information, Malfoy, the short cut to the dungeons was closed so I had to walk a mile longer. And yes, I do have a clock, so I will apreciate it if you didn't insult my family," hissed Ron, while trying desparetely to remain calm. After all, he had to survive at least another hour of this. So, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try and slow his harsh breathing.
"I'm insulting no one, Weasley, I'm merely stating the facts, as I have for seven years now," answered Draco who had in the mean time seated himself on the chair opposite of Ron's. If someone would walk in right now, he would have thought that they were getting themselves ready for a wrestling match, which was partly true.
"Yeah, right! If you were just stating the facts the whole Gryffindor tower wouldn't hate your guts, Malfoy, including myself."
"I could say the same of your desire to stick your noble noses into everybody's business all the time and thus getting the House Cup just because you have a shameless amount of luck and no skill whatsoever." Draco bid back, this exchange already making every hair on his body stand on end and his eyes to narrow like when a cat does when she sees danger.
"If you haven't noticed the trouble always gets us first, we are forced to face it! I can't say that about your endless insults and hatefull remarks! What have we ever done to you?" Ron stood up now because he had to release some of the tension building in him. Draco followed suit with his head held high, even though the redhead was at least a head taller than him. They were only a step apart, too close for their liking and yet too far for the desired effect of their argument. The two boys all but bared their teeth.
"Don't pretend you don't know! I tried to be friends with you and your beloved friends but your noses were so high you could barely stand, you self-absorbed prick!"
"What? You call that an attempt to try and befriend us! Well, excuse me if we didn't bow at your feet, oh sweet master, especially at the part where you so nicely informed me of my financial status! As much as you brag that you have all the right manners of a downright snob, you didn't seem to remember rule number one: "If you want to to make a nice impression and not provoque the desire to be kicked in the ass, don't be a bloody bastard!" Seethed Ron with hardly surpressed venum, feeling the snake taking hold of his mind. He was so angry that as he backed up to put as much distance between him and his enemy possible, he turned over the chair with such force that it hit the wall with a loud "thump". Neither of the boys gave a damn, too deeply indulged into their verbal assault.
"A Malfoy's friendship is never an insult, Weasley! Besides, you wouldn't have accepted my offer even if I had begged for it because you're the most selfish brats I have ever seen!" Draco knew that what he said wasn't exactly the truth but his purpose had never been to be honest but to make someone squirm, so why start now?
"Look who's talking! The prince of egoism and arogance himself! Because that was exactly what your friendship was- an offer, a deal with which your father would have easely gotten the boy that was the reason Voldemort lost power. I bet that your daddy had the oven already prepared to cook Harry for dinner!"
"I admit, it was one of the reasons I proposed but it wasn't the only one!"
"You didn't even bother to ask me or Hermione to be friends with you! You treated us like shit from the start! How do you expect us to react,uh? If you can't get through your thick skull that as a matter of fact we do have self-honour than here's a proof how much you actually give a damn!"
"I shall never bow to anyone! No one in my house makes friends like that!"
"Ever the nasty Slitherin!"
"Ever the proud Griffindor!"
There were probably about 5 feet between them and by now the whole school had surely heard every part of their bickering but at that moment the two boys were seeing red. They could practically touch the tension and heat radiating from the both of them. Neither wanted to begin again as if it would show some kind of defeat. Instead, they both stared outside of their respectable window, while stealing an angry glance or two at their partner. Every time that their eyes met they glared at each other and turned their heads sharply towards the opposite direction.
Thankfully, a crack from the fire grabbed their attention and as quick as lightning they ran to see the paper that had fallen fron the red flames. They reached their destination simultaniously so they had to read the letter with their heads bumped together, seeing as neither had the patience to wait for the other to read it. In those two minutes during which they skimmed the couple of ligns, written in Snape's tidy scrawl, their earliar bickering was completely forgotten. As soon as Draco and Ron finished, however, they emediately sprang apart, eyes gleaming in the sunlit room.
Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley,
Your detention for the day will be to concoct the Veritaserum potion with which you got closely aquiented today. You will find all the needed ingredients on my desk after precisely one minute. The door is charmed, so don't even try to escape, as well as the whole classroom. If I find that the job hasn't been done, there will be severe consequences.
Professor Severus Snape
A comfortable silence stretched between them as the two boys walked to the desk in question, where indeed there appeared a cauldron and all the required ingredients. Both immediately understood that they were going to have to work together, as there was only one cauldron, which didn't leave them much choice about not speaking to each other.
"So, I guess you can work on the ingredients and I'll do the mixing," said Draco in his previous, colder and irritating voice.
"Whatever," shrugged Ron, nonplussed as he reasoned that the more he agreed and didn't speak with the Slitherin, the greater became the oppurtunity for them to work in peace.
"I'm just trying to make a conversation," hissed the blonde, annoyed at the redhead's emotionless answer. With anger, hurt and confusion- those he could deal with; not with this neutrality.
"Fine, Malfoy. Do you want to get on with the potion or what?" Ron asked nervously because the fact that he was going to mess up thouroughly with the making of the concoction was getting nearer and clearer. Total humiliation wasn't what he wanted right now, as that would give the smaller boy an all the better reason to gloat.
"That was exactly what I was suggesting, Weasley. Now, you can start with smashing the sabadilla seeds into dust, if you please. And do be careful, Weasel. I am all too aware of your skills in this particular subject," Draco almost whispered desparetely trying to be as polite as possible.
"Believe me, I learned how to make this particular potion better than all the rest because I definitely don't want a repeat of yesterday's performance. Come to think of it, I would have performed it a lot better if it weren't for your unreasonable desire to turn everything into a total mess."
"Personally, I am quite sure that you would have ruined it all by yourself. As for my participation in the act, I have no idea of what you're talking about," reasoned Draco. He didn't admit anything that he had done, firstly because then the plan wouldn't have had a point at all, and secondly because he was almost certain that the Gryffindor already knew.
"I won't even bother stating all the proofs for that, Ferret Boy. I know I'll be fighting a losing battle," answered Ron as he poundered the little seeds with his long and lightly freckled hands.
For a minute or so, they just concentrated on their respectable occupations. Ron focused more than usual because he really wanted to show the other boy how much he was worth and that actually he was good at potions if there wasn't an eagle-nosed professor breathing down his neck.
On the other hand, Draco was quite self-confident about his job, so he allowed his attention to wander for a while. With having not much to observe, he found himself staring at the redhead's hands. At first glance, you couldn't notice their hidden grace and dexterity. From afar, they appeared too big and clumsy; they were indeed long but straight and surprisingly white, not counting a couple of ink-stained fingers. A tiny scar could be seen on the boy's little finger. How had he gotten it? Did his brothers give it to him? Another thing that was uniquely Ron were the dozens of freckles all over his palms and arms, partly hidden by the long-sleeved robe, leaving Draco to wonder how far they actually spread. Were there any...
Oh, for crying out loud, Draco! How could you be mooning over Weasley's bloody freckles?
Well, they are kind of sweet. Wonder what they will taste like?
SCRAM!!!
"Hey, be careful with that!" Ron yelled as he saw the blonde's hands trembling, making the potion swirl wildly and spill a little over the edge. To make him stop, he grabbed both Draco's hands but let go of them just as quickly, furiously realising what he had done. But the deed was done and he couldn't erase the feel of those cold hands under his. Their frostiness travelled up the Gryffindor's arms until it melted into his heart, making his whole body twitch with the aftershocks. It was like touching glass filled with electricity. Can't he pay more attention?
"I can't believe I wasn't the first one to make a mistake," said Ron in an awed voice. He really thanked his lucky stars that his blowing up the potion would be less humiliating now.
"Sorry, didn't pay attention," said Draco. He froze, much like when he felt those huge, warm hands clasp over his own. Did you just appologize to the git? You're losing your touch, you moron! Say something! "What I meant was that it's none of your business what I'm doing with the potion. If I mess it up, it will be my problem, not yours!" That's better!
"Well, excuse me if I'm trying to be helpful! By the way, here's the chopped root of hellebore. You can add it and we're almost done. We'll only have to wait five more minutes for it to cool."
"I believe I know how it works, Weasley! Now give me that!" The smaller boy hissed now permanently in a bad mood.
After the root was added along with all the other ingredients, an interesting thought crossed both boys' minds. What if they took a bit of the potion with them? Nobody would know! As the idea sealed itself in their naughty minds, the boys sprang into action. What possibilities were before them!
Draco and Ron each took two little bottles from a dusty shelf and walked determinedly towards the cauldron. It seemed that they telepathically understood each other, so there was no need for explanations. The representatives of the opposite houses filled his bottle with the still-hot liquid and put it in the pocket of his robe. Identical smiles appeared on both faces.
"Won't tell if you don't, Weasley!" Draco said in an all-too-happy voice.
"Right! Now, let's clean up and get the hell out of here!" Ron answered in a similar fashion. With a simple vanishing spell, the blond cleaned the cauldron and Ron cleaned the table. Not wanting to stay in the room any longer, both boys ran for the exit and started silently towards the stairs that led to the Slytherin dungeons and then up to the Ravenclaw common room. The redhead would have taken the opposite direction if it weren't for the closed short cut. So, they were forced to walk a couple of feet more together, each delighting in going back to his bed and sleeping all night, as tomorrow was Sarurday.
All in all, Ron was proud of himself. Not including the first fight they got in, the whole thing went better than he had thought. After all, no real beating had begun and that was admirable.
Just as they were about to separate ways Draco heard two familiar voices coming their way. With a sharp intake of breath, he grabbed Ron's wrist and pushed them both in the first open door he could find that appeared to be a closet.
"What the fuck, Malfoy?" The redhead asked in a strangled voice as he was sandwiched between Draco and the brooms poking into his back. The other boy was far closer than he wanted or preferred, anyway.
"Shut up, you idiot, or they will hear us!" Hissed the Slytherin, while having to put both his hands on either side of Ron (otherwise he had to put them on the taller boy's chest), trying as hard as he could to shorten the distance between them and not to notice that their bodies were practically lined together.
The question about whom did Draco mean, died on Ron's lips when he heard a familiar drawl, only deeper and more mature and another whisper-like velvet voice.
Indeed, just in front of the door, Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy were having one of their rare discussions.
#$
Love in its truest form has no language or words,
it just has a thousand and one actions we all wish
we could describe.
Ron was panting uncontrollably as he walked towards the Gryffindor common room. He was shaking so bad, he thought he might pass out any moment. His ragged breath came out in large puffs of stream-like cloud from his mouth, contrasting with the black and cold atmosphere. A mere sound could make the very hairs of Ron's neck stand on end. Unfortunately, it wasn't only anger that he felt in his soul; it was resentment towards himself.
I can't believe I fell in his trap again! I can't do this any more! God...
He had answered to Draco's taunting once again. He had let his boiling temper aim his knuckles right into the blonde's stomach, legs, arms, everywhere. Most frighteningly, he felt good. The serpent in him was fed with the feel of the boy's smooth skin between the numerous hits, with the harsh breathing in the redhead's face when the fight had become unbearable both physically and mentally, with the painful bite that stung on his trembling lips. Everything about that quick and impulsive struggle between him and the Slitherin made Ron feel content and annoyed at the same time. Content- for soothing that deep ache in the pit of his stomach that was getting more prominant with every glance he got from Draco. That pain, taking over his heart, filling it with the need to make him pay for every remark, every spightful smirk. And annoyance for caring in the first place.
Why do I hate him so much?
You didn't hate him so much a minute ago, bad boy.
Where the fuck did you come from?
I'm your concience, stupid. And wipe that dirty mouth of yours, why don't you?
Oh, fuck off! You're the last thing I need right now!
I think you need me much more than you think, Ronnie. Have you ever stopped to think really why you care so much about the Draco boy?
Because he's a prick, that's why!
Not quite but you're getting warmer. Make sure to holler when you figure it out. I'm sure you'll be surprised to the roots of that lovely flaming red hair of yours!
Hey,who do you think you are, anyway? Dumbledore? And besides, I thought I told you to FUCK OFF!/ Silence.../Ah, much better!
Talking to yourself was definitely a bad sign. And craziness along with a split personality was not on the redhead's most desirable things list. Ron simply decided, as he opened the portrait hole ("Well, I never!"), that he was going to avoid the prat. Yeah,that was it! If he wasn't able to start a fight, then there was nothing to worry about! Wherever Draco went, the Gryffindor would be at least 10 miles away. Except for the detention. The dreaded detention!
#$
When he entered the appearingly empty common room, Ron had his feelings in a slight bit of control. As he went to the stairs that led to the boys' dorm room, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a sniff, coming a step or so away from him. The boy turned around as fast as lightning with the wand prepared in his right hand, even though he just couldn't picture Voldemort crying his heart out in the grounds of Hogwarts, or anywhere else for that matter. So, when he saw none other than Hermione sitting in one of the comfiest armchairs in a darkened corner, while wiping her eyes with a hankerchief, Ron felt a deep pang of regret. In all the chaos around the fight, he had completely forgotten what was the reason for it in the first place.
" Herms?" Tried tantavily the redhead, while walking as quietly and smoothly as he could where the girl in question was sitting. Her blood-shot eyes went emediately up, in search of the intruder and when they finally rested on Ron it was as if the sadness in them doubled. Seeing her so broken, Ron felt his heart swell with compassion towards his best friend and in complete loathing towards a certain blond. Instead of indulging himself in that last matter for God knows which time, however, the Gryffindor decided that there were more pressing matters.
" What are you doing here? Where have you been?" Asked Hermione in a voice that Ron couldn't quite recognise. She didn't even try to brush off the tears that were freely streaming down her red cheeks.
" Well, let's just say I'll leave it for tomorrow. Now, are you OK?" Ron asked, while sitting himself on the couch nearest to the armchair in which the girl was curled up.
" You had a fight, didn't you?" Big surprise! Hermione knows exactly what I'm doing at any time!
" Kinda. But how do you know?" The boy questionned in a voice that held a tinge of admiration.
" I may be a know-it-all, Ron, but I'm not blind. When I see a bloody lip and a swollen eye, it doesn't quite exactly leave me guessing. Come here!" As the redhead changed places with Hermoine, so that she was sitting in his lap, she got out a clean hankerchief and started wiping carefully his damaged lip. In the formed comfortable silence they just looked at each other, letting the time easily pass by.
" There!" Whispered Hermione as she put the dirty thing on the table, after which she continued staring at the flames, refusing to meet Ron's gaze.
" Hermione...listen...You have to admit that it wasn't my fault! Malfoy messed up my potion, so that Snape would choose me and then him for testing the potion. It looked pretty much planned out. I mean how could I have known that..." Ron trailed off, not wanting to repeat exactly what the Slitherin had made sure that the whole school now probably knew. He and Hermione had made a deal not to tell anyone what had happened that night.
"I know, Ron. It's just that now everyone will think that we've finally found each other and what a wonderful couple we'd make when everything that happened between us was nothing more than a drunken night in the Hogsmeade Hotel. It's not that it was bad but I think that we both felt that it wasn't what we wanted.I'm just sick of people suspecting something about me that isn't true." As she spoke that, the bushy-haired girl leaned her head on Ron's shoulder and put her hand on his chest. She could feel his steady heartbeat as a part of her own, as strong as Ron could feel hers. Their bond of companionship was so strong."With the rumours that will start now...I feel as if our friendship will be dirtied."
"Don't you dare think on it, Hermione, even for a second. Those lousy gossip-looking idiots don't deserve a glance from you", Ron soothed while he stroked the none too tidy head of his friend. Then, with an angered spark in his eye he continued, "Anyone who tells you something will wish he wasn't born. The little incident today will seem like a mere spanking." Ron growled, winning something between a sniff and a snort from Hermione. " I'll take care of you, Herms. Remeber that you're like a sister to me, even though we fight like two husbands", grinned the tall boy in his best goofy way. Being Hermione, she threw herself into Ron's arms hiccouphing and sobbing uncontrollably on his sweater. Unlike third year, the redhead patted her on the back in a comforting way, while whispering nothings in her ear.
"Oh, Ron! I never knew you had it in you! I will never ever refuse you my notes when you need them! I feel so much better!" The girl managed to squeek in between her brown locks. After a while her shaking subsided and she just hung onto Ron's shoulder limply, starting to fall asleep. The cracks from the fireplace and the comforting warmth served to relax Ron as well and to make him doze a little, now reassured that everything was back to normal.
"Hey, Herms, as much as I like all the getting intimate thing, I'd like to go to bed, ya know." Was Ron's muffled voice,coming out of the big bushy mess. The owner of it, jumped out of her dazed state and with a mumbled "Thank you"and a kiss on the cheek, stood up and disappeared up the girls' staircase. Ron looked after her with a feeling of content and while heading himself to the other part of the common room, he thought that the day hadn't been such a loss after all.
#$
The next day passed by like a blur for both boys- in between all the chaos of classes, homework, teachers' barking and more barking, the two couldn't feel at all when the day began and when it came to its close.
Draco, for example had been the talk of the day in his Slitherin group. Everybody now admired him even more then usual. He was the reason for the start of a whole new teasing of the Wholy Trio. Wherever Ron and Hermione went there was always an echoing " Go get her in the middle of Transfiguration, Weasley!" in the corridors. Thus leaving a very angry and seething redhead by the end of the day. He just couldn't wait to spill his frustration into the upcoming detention.
As for Draco, even if he was walking around a little stiffly ( he didn't dare going to Madame Pomphry for his brouses), he couldn't be feeling better. He was quite ready for another round. Aside from all the tension he could practically smell whenever Ron was near, his plan had worked out perfectly.
The only real problem was that the taste of the redhead's blood on his lips was yet to be erased, along with the feel of those long, slim legs stradling him. It wasn't that Draco had enjoyed the fire in the other boy's eyes, how they could penetrated his soul, just with a glance. Or that he was missing the strenght with which he had been pressed against the wall by that oh-so-perfect body. Come to think of it Draco couldn't care less. There was only the little fact that during the last 6 hours, his concentration wasn't on anything but red. Like right now, during dinner he was unconciously turning a crimson red apple in his hand. After a fraction of a second he realised what he was doing and put it back in its place, almost guiltily looking around. Cursing under his breath, he stood up and headed towards the entrance, wanting to be at peace just before the detention. Brushing off his classmates' calls after him, he almost ran through the doors, concentrating hard on not looking at the noisiest table. Pity he didn't, because if he had, he would have seen the object of his thoughts staring at him with a strange look.
Just thinking about Ron made him breathe hard. As he sat on one of the steps of a staircase leading towards the dungeons, Draco had to grip his ribcage to keep his heart from bursting out.
What the hell is wrong with me? He's just a poor, stupid, ugly Weasley!
But deep within him Draco knew that Ron wasn't to blame for his financial status. Actually, his pauverty was a part of his personality- the tattered robes, the hand-me-down books. Without them the redhead wouldn't be himself. Like Draco wouldn't be his arrogant-snobby self without all his money.
Plus the Slitherin couldn't deny that Ron was the most interesting person he had ever met. Infact, the only one that was always ready to start a heated argument, the only one from whom Draco actually provoqued some kind of reaction, an emotion. A feeling that the smaller boy hardly ever felt or if he did, he was told to surpress it. With the redhead, he could let his barriers down, he could breathe. With nobody else did Draco feel that deep sense of freedom to say, to feel, to want whatever he liked. As much as he hated the Gryffindor, he had to admit that their quarrels were like a light in the closing darkness around both of them. As much as he denied it, along with all the anger and desire to win everytime that the tall boy was concerned, Draco also felt good in his namesis' presence.
As for the stupid part, Draco had heard the rumors of Ron's sacrificing himself in the chess-room in first year to help his friends. The blond knew of his fierce loyalty and if anything else, it was admireable and extremely brave. Just imagining the redhead saying that he would lay his heart in a silver plate to Voldemort himself, just to make sure that his close-ones were alright, made Draco's heart swell with a sense of hope. Besides, Dumbledore couldn't have made him a Prefect just to fool around. And as far as his looks were concerned...
Yeah, but he's a Weasley! An ugly Weasley!
You didn't think he was ugly when his toned and muscular body pressed you against the wall or the floor, for that matter.
He's got red hair!
That glistens golden in the sunlight and is incredibly sexy when blown by the wind.
Ah, please! Who do you think you're kidding? His sense of fashion is worse than my grandma's!
It's not his fault he's poor.
But...he...um
Admit it! You find him so fucking gorgeous that you want to eat him alive! With wipped cream! Mmm...now, can you imagine that?
OK! OK! I get the idea! Damn, you don't have to rub it in!
No, you want to rub something else!
Piss off!
Draco let out a frustrated growl and stood up, more uncertain than ever that he could spend a whole evening with that!
&#
Ron had just watched the Slitherin standing from his seat and disappearing through the door as if he had a date with Voldemort, himself.
Hm,I won't be surprised if he did!
Something was definitely wrong here. Was Draco as flustered about their fight as he was? Was he that affected? Well, the tall boy was just going to have to wait to their detention, which on the other hand was after 20 minutes. He had still plenty of time but he couldn't help fidgeting and eating a lot more apple pie than he intended. Ok, so maybe he did intend to eat so much but it wasn't as if he was going to go fat. That was the only thing that Ron actually liked about his body. No matter how much he ate, all the enormous amount seemed to disappear in no less than 2 hours and he was already ready to devour the same, if not more. He may have been low on clothes or any other products but his mother always made sure that her children were fed to the point where they couldn't breathe. Maybe that was why Ron was in love with every type of chocolate; that was the only food which he couldn't eat like a starved boy. That was the reason for which now the boy poured pretty much the whole bottle of chocolate syrup and made Hemione almost yell:
"Watch out, Ron! You might actually drown, you know!" Hermione had tried her best not to be a know-it-all since their talk, but it seemed that her will was slowly failing her. Ron appreciated her attempt, anyway.
"I'm a growing boy, Hermione! Besides, I'll need all the energy I can get for the upcoming torture," quickly brushed off Ron the girl's comment, while practically making a pile on his plate with all the sweets that existed on the table.
"Speaking of which, you'll be horribly late if you don't hurry up!" Said Harry who hadn't dared speak too much during the whole day because he was more confused than everyone else in the school to realise his best friends had been sexually involved. Ron and Hermione were quite happy with him not interrogating them. All the snide remarks from the Slitherins were more than enough.
"Ah, don' wo'y Har'! I'll jus' have to wal' fas'er is all!" Came the redhead's answer that was almost entirely muffled by the large amount of chocolate in his mouth. Hermione did her best not to make a face of absolute disgust.
"Oh, damn Ron! We forgot to tell you that the short cut to the dungeons is completely drowned by a liquid that the proffesors didn't dare tell us about. They will clean it by tomorrow but it's out of limits right now! I think Peeves got a little more excited than usual.You better go and fast!" Whispered Harry with an utter look of shock and regret plastered on his face.
"Bloody hell!" Ron almost whimpered in surprise, after which he shot up from the bench spilling every dish that was in his reach, but then he couldn't care less. He fled out of the Great Hall with a speed that only a Weasley could muster. As he ran as fast his muscles could let him he quickly brushed his mouth on the sleeve of his robe because it was covered with chocolate quite visibly. His breath was already ragged when he reached the entrance to the dungeons. A cold wave brushed him with a chilling force that went all the way to his toes. His throat quickly started to feel numb from the low temperature and the deep gulps of air he took. By the time he finally reached the door and grabbed its handle in a rush, he could hardly stand. With the last of his strenght he wrenched it open, not paying attention to his dishelved state.
Inside, Draco was already pacing impatiently in the room as he had come 10 minutes earlear. The standing on the steps had gotten on his nerves, so he had preferred to wait in the classroom, instead. He had almost cleared his mind of all thoughts of the redhead boy but when he saw him standing at the doorway, breathing as if he had ran all the way from Hogsmeade, his clothes a crumpled mess, his hair in all directions and angles, cheeks and ears red( God, red! ), the events from yesterday fell down on him with an amazing force. Still, Merlin knew how, the blonde managed to keep his cool and instead of his jaw touching the floor in shock, he looked the barely standing boy up and down with all the smugness and arrogance he could muster.
" You know Weasley, mankind has actually invented a clock. I know you're poor but surely you aren't that forsaken!" Draco drowled in a mighty voice, while still staring at Ron so intecely that he thought he might burn a hole into him. He felt his heartbeat quickening even though he hadn't made so much as a twich. Draco, get a grip! It's just Weasley!
Ron couldn't answer right away because he felt like he might crumple on the ground if he made another sound. Instead, he barely walked to the nearest chair and practically threw himself on it. He could feel Draco's gaze on him but right now his brain cells were concentrating only on breathing in and breathing out. In- out! When he finally regained his breath he turned his eyes towards his namesis and his mind made a double take at the way the Slitherin was looking at him. It froze his very being! Brushing it aside as a trick of the sunlight pouring from the window, Ron braced himself for what was coming.
"For your information, Malfoy, the short cut to the dungeons was closed so I had to walk a mile longer. And yes, I do have a clock, so I will apreciate it if you didn't insult my family," hissed Ron, while trying desparetely to remain calm. After all, he had to survive at least another hour of this. So, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try and slow his harsh breathing.
"I'm insulting no one, Weasley, I'm merely stating the facts, as I have for seven years now," answered Draco who had in the mean time seated himself on the chair opposite of Ron's. If someone would walk in right now, he would have thought that they were getting themselves ready for a wrestling match, which was partly true.
"Yeah, right! If you were just stating the facts the whole Gryffindor tower wouldn't hate your guts, Malfoy, including myself."
"I could say the same of your desire to stick your noble noses into everybody's business all the time and thus getting the House Cup just because you have a shameless amount of luck and no skill whatsoever." Draco bid back, this exchange already making every hair on his body stand on end and his eyes to narrow like when a cat does when she sees danger.
"If you haven't noticed the trouble always gets us first, we are forced to face it! I can't say that about your endless insults and hatefull remarks! What have we ever done to you?" Ron stood up now because he had to release some of the tension building in him. Draco followed suit with his head held high, even though the redhead was at least a head taller than him. They were only a step apart, too close for their liking and yet too far for the desired effect of their argument. The two boys all but bared their teeth.
"Don't pretend you don't know! I tried to be friends with you and your beloved friends but your noses were so high you could barely stand, you self-absorbed prick!"
"What? You call that an attempt to try and befriend us! Well, excuse me if we didn't bow at your feet, oh sweet master, especially at the part where you so nicely informed me of my financial status! As much as you brag that you have all the right manners of a downright snob, you didn't seem to remember rule number one: "If you want to to make a nice impression and not provoque the desire to be kicked in the ass, don't be a bloody bastard!" Seethed Ron with hardly surpressed venum, feeling the snake taking hold of his mind. He was so angry that as he backed up to put as much distance between him and his enemy possible, he turned over the chair with such force that it hit the wall with a loud "thump". Neither of the boys gave a damn, too deeply indulged into their verbal assault.
"A Malfoy's friendship is never an insult, Weasley! Besides, you wouldn't have accepted my offer even if I had begged for it because you're the most selfish brats I have ever seen!" Draco knew that what he said wasn't exactly the truth but his purpose had never been to be honest but to make someone squirm, so why start now?
"Look who's talking! The prince of egoism and arogance himself! Because that was exactly what your friendship was- an offer, a deal with which your father would have easely gotten the boy that was the reason Voldemort lost power. I bet that your daddy had the oven already prepared to cook Harry for dinner!"
"I admit, it was one of the reasons I proposed but it wasn't the only one!"
"You didn't even bother to ask me or Hermione to be friends with you! You treated us like shit from the start! How do you expect us to react,uh? If you can't get through your thick skull that as a matter of fact we do have self-honour than here's a proof how much you actually give a damn!"
"I shall never bow to anyone! No one in my house makes friends like that!"
"Ever the nasty Slitherin!"
"Ever the proud Griffindor!"
There were probably about 5 feet between them and by now the whole school had surely heard every part of their bickering but at that moment the two boys were seeing red. They could practically touch the tension and heat radiating from the both of them. Neither wanted to begin again as if it would show some kind of defeat. Instead, they both stared outside of their respectable window, while stealing an angry glance or two at their partner. Every time that their eyes met they glared at each other and turned their heads sharply towards the opposite direction.
Thankfully, a crack from the fire grabbed their attention and as quick as lightning they ran to see the paper that had fallen fron the red flames. They reached their destination simultaniously so they had to read the letter with their heads bumped together, seeing as neither had the patience to wait for the other to read it. In those two minutes during which they skimmed the couple of ligns, written in Snape's tidy scrawl, their earliar bickering was completely forgotten. As soon as Draco and Ron finished, however, they emediately sprang apart, eyes gleaming in the sunlit room.
Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley,
Your detention for the day will be to concoct the Veritaserum potion with which you got closely aquiented today. You will find all the needed ingredients on my desk after precisely one minute. The door is charmed, so don't even try to escape, as well as the whole classroom. If I find that the job hasn't been done, there will be severe consequences.
Professor Severus Snape
A comfortable silence stretched between them as the two boys walked to the desk in question, where indeed there appeared a cauldron and all the required ingredients. Both immediately understood that they were going to have to work together, as there was only one cauldron, which didn't leave them much choice about not speaking to each other.
"So, I guess you can work on the ingredients and I'll do the mixing," said Draco in his previous, colder and irritating voice.
"Whatever," shrugged Ron, nonplussed as he reasoned that the more he agreed and didn't speak with the Slitherin, the greater became the oppurtunity for them to work in peace.
"I'm just trying to make a conversation," hissed the blonde, annoyed at the redhead's emotionless answer. With anger, hurt and confusion- those he could deal with; not with this neutrality.
"Fine, Malfoy. Do you want to get on with the potion or what?" Ron asked nervously because the fact that he was going to mess up thouroughly with the making of the concoction was getting nearer and clearer. Total humiliation wasn't what he wanted right now, as that would give the smaller boy an all the better reason to gloat.
"That was exactly what I was suggesting, Weasley. Now, you can start with smashing the sabadilla seeds into dust, if you please. And do be careful, Weasel. I am all too aware of your skills in this particular subject," Draco almost whispered desparetely trying to be as polite as possible.
"Believe me, I learned how to make this particular potion better than all the rest because I definitely don't want a repeat of yesterday's performance. Come to think of it, I would have performed it a lot better if it weren't for your unreasonable desire to turn everything into a total mess."
"Personally, I am quite sure that you would have ruined it all by yourself. As for my participation in the act, I have no idea of what you're talking about," reasoned Draco. He didn't admit anything that he had done, firstly because then the plan wouldn't have had a point at all, and secondly because he was almost certain that the Gryffindor already knew.
"I won't even bother stating all the proofs for that, Ferret Boy. I know I'll be fighting a losing battle," answered Ron as he poundered the little seeds with his long and lightly freckled hands.
For a minute or so, they just concentrated on their respectable occupations. Ron focused more than usual because he really wanted to show the other boy how much he was worth and that actually he was good at potions if there wasn't an eagle-nosed professor breathing down his neck.
On the other hand, Draco was quite self-confident about his job, so he allowed his attention to wander for a while. With having not much to observe, he found himself staring at the redhead's hands. At first glance, you couldn't notice their hidden grace and dexterity. From afar, they appeared too big and clumsy; they were indeed long but straight and surprisingly white, not counting a couple of ink-stained fingers. A tiny scar could be seen on the boy's little finger. How had he gotten it? Did his brothers give it to him? Another thing that was uniquely Ron were the dozens of freckles all over his palms and arms, partly hidden by the long-sleeved robe, leaving Draco to wonder how far they actually spread. Were there any...
Oh, for crying out loud, Draco! How could you be mooning over Weasley's bloody freckles?
Well, they are kind of sweet. Wonder what they will taste like?
SCRAM!!!
"Hey, be careful with that!" Ron yelled as he saw the blonde's hands trembling, making the potion swirl wildly and spill a little over the edge. To make him stop, he grabbed both Draco's hands but let go of them just as quickly, furiously realising what he had done. But the deed was done and he couldn't erase the feel of those cold hands under his. Their frostiness travelled up the Gryffindor's arms until it melted into his heart, making his whole body twitch with the aftershocks. It was like touching glass filled with electricity. Can't he pay more attention?
"I can't believe I wasn't the first one to make a mistake," said Ron in an awed voice. He really thanked his lucky stars that his blowing up the potion would be less humiliating now.
"Sorry, didn't pay attention," said Draco. He froze, much like when he felt those huge, warm hands clasp over his own. Did you just appologize to the git? You're losing your touch, you moron! Say something! "What I meant was that it's none of your business what I'm doing with the potion. If I mess it up, it will be my problem, not yours!" That's better!
"Well, excuse me if I'm trying to be helpful! By the way, here's the chopped root of hellebore. You can add it and we're almost done. We'll only have to wait five more minutes for it to cool."
"I believe I know how it works, Weasley! Now give me that!" The smaller boy hissed now permanently in a bad mood.
After the root was added along with all the other ingredients, an interesting thought crossed both boys' minds. What if they took a bit of the potion with them? Nobody would know! As the idea sealed itself in their naughty minds, the boys sprang into action. What possibilities were before them!
Draco and Ron each took two little bottles from a dusty shelf and walked determinedly towards the cauldron. It seemed that they telepathically understood each other, so there was no need for explanations. The representatives of the opposite houses filled his bottle with the still-hot liquid and put it in the pocket of his robe. Identical smiles appeared on both faces.
"Won't tell if you don't, Weasley!" Draco said in an all-too-happy voice.
"Right! Now, let's clean up and get the hell out of here!" Ron answered in a similar fashion. With a simple vanishing spell, the blond cleaned the cauldron and Ron cleaned the table. Not wanting to stay in the room any longer, both boys ran for the exit and started silently towards the stairs that led to the Slytherin dungeons and then up to the Ravenclaw common room. The redhead would have taken the opposite direction if it weren't for the closed short cut. So, they were forced to walk a couple of feet more together, each delighting in going back to his bed and sleeping all night, as tomorrow was Sarurday.
All in all, Ron was proud of himself. Not including the first fight they got in, the whole thing went better than he had thought. After all, no real beating had begun and that was admirable.
Just as they were about to separate ways Draco heard two familiar voices coming their way. With a sharp intake of breath, he grabbed Ron's wrist and pushed them both in the first open door he could find that appeared to be a closet.
"What the fuck, Malfoy?" The redhead asked in a strangled voice as he was sandwiched between Draco and the brooms poking into his back. The other boy was far closer than he wanted or preferred, anyway.
"Shut up, you idiot, or they will hear us!" Hissed the Slytherin, while having to put both his hands on either side of Ron (otherwise he had to put them on the taller boy's chest), trying as hard as he could to shorten the distance between them and not to notice that their bodies were practically lined together.
The question about whom did Draco mean, died on Ron's lips when he heard a familiar drawl, only deeper and more mature and another whisper-like velvet voice.
Indeed, just in front of the door, Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy were having one of their rare discussions.
#$