Hermione watched Ron out of the corner of her eye as she worked on the fake Galleon she was making. She was worried about him; he'd been acting strangely lately, and she wasn't sure why. Harry seemed to think it was just stress, but Hermione wasn't so sure. He'd been oddly jumpy for the past few weeks—well before Dumbledore's suggestion that they re-form Dumbledore's army, only now with the knowledge and help of the Hogwarts faculty. And the fact that he hadn't finished dinner—Ron usually became more hungry with stress, not less. The last (and only) time she could remember him saying he wasn't hungry was when he'd been fighting with Harry during the Triwizard Tournament. If he wasn't eating, he must be more upset than she'd ever seen him. The fact that he'd also missed the DA meeting only confirmed it.
=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

But she had no idea why. What had happened upset him so much? Nothing had really happened over the past few days to explain his odd behavior.

She watched the firelight playing over his face, illuminating him with its soft, warm light. His eyes were hidden, cast in shadow beneath gleaming, copper hair, and the firm set of his mouth, lips pursed with concentration, was sharpened by the shadows. For a moment, she longed to reach out and brush his hair back from his forehead, revealing his furrowed brow and bright hazel eyes.

But then he looked up at her and moment was broken. "How's this?" he asked, handing her the Galleon he had just finished.

Hermione took it, trying not to flush when his fingers brushed hers. She weighed it in her hand, running her fingers over the smooth surface and feeling warm metal in place of the wood that was actually there. The right weight, the right feel.... Now to see if it actually worked.

She picked up the Master Galleon—which Harry had let her borrow to test the new ones—and changed the serial number to a string of zeros. Sure enough, the serial number of the new Galleon—along with every other fake Galleon they'd made—changed to a string of zeros. She set the Master Galleon back to the correct date—tomorrow evening, after dinner—and added the newest Galleon to the pile before going back to her own.

Ron yawned, glancing over at the clock. "I'm ... er ... kind of tired. I'm going to go to bed. I'll ... help you tomorrow. Good-night."

Hermione nodded and he hurried upstairs, leaving her alone again. She glanced up at the clock and saw that dinner was nearly over. With luck, she'd be able to convince Harry to help her once he came back.

Malfoy wasn't in any of Ron's classes until Care of Magical Creatures after lunch the following day. Ron wasn't sure if he was pleased or annoyed by this—his brain told him that Malfoy was the last person he wanted to see, but then he found himself searching for that sharp, pale face and silver-blonde hair as he walked through the halls to his classes. He told himself he was just looking out so he could avoid the boy, but that didn't explain the unpleasant heat that spread through him whenever he thought he saw Malfoy out of the corner of his eye, before he turned and saw it was actually someone else.

Ron had managed to avoid Malfoy at breakfast by arriving early that morning—which might have been the result of staying up all night, trying not to think about Draco or Dean or boys in general and failing miserably—and he had then missed lunch to teach the Patronus Charm to a group of Hufflepuff first years. To his surprise, neither Harry nor Hermione had commented on this, despite the fact teaching first years was a task he had previously avoided like the plague. But Harry had looked more relieved than suspicious when Ron volunteered, and Hermione seemed to think he was making up for missing yesterday's DA meeting.

Now, as he walked down the hill to Hagrid's hut, a relentless wind whipping at his robes and hair, he was dreading seeing Malfoy again. What would Malfoy do? Ignore him? If only. More likely, he'd be even more of an annoying bastard than he had before. And Ron really didn't want to think about how he'd react to seeing Malfoy; he'd undoubtedly give himself away to Harry and Hermione at the very least, assuming he hadn't already. But much though he wished he could turn around and race back up to the castle and as far away from Malfoy as possible, he didn't think that would help much. He'd have to face Malfoy sooner or later; might as well get it over with now. Unless, of course, Malfoy was sick today, but that was undoubtedly too much to hope for.

He was vaguely aware of Harry talking to him—something about Quidditch, unless he'd moved on to something else already. Ron had long since given up trying to pay attention, beyond the occasional nod or grunt to reassure Harry that he was still listening. Ever since he'd realized that this was his next class with Malfoy, he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything else. But at least it was Care of Magical Creatures instead of Potions, so he didn't have to deal with Snape as well as Malfoy.

And then they came into sight of the Hagrid's hut, and with it the gathering Slytherin and Gryffindor students. Nearly all twenty students were already there, but only one captured Ron's attention, and it was all he could do not to stop dead in his tracks.

Malfoy was ... stunning. There was simply no other word for it. He stood, tall and slim, with his robes billowing about him in the wind and his silvery hair flying wildly about his face. Crabbe and Goyle, looming to either side of him, could not have been better placed to accent his sinister beauty. Power, confidence and pride seemed to surround him in an almost tangible aura.

Ron felt his breath catch and wondered, in the small corner of his mind that wasn't staring in awe at Malfoy, why he couldn't be obsessing over someone like Lavender or Cho. Why, of all the people at Hogwarts, did it have to be Malfoy?

Who was, Ron reminded himself firmly, a stuck-up, bigoted prat.

Harry and Hermione took no notice of Malfoy beyond a brief glare in his general direction, and Malfoy didn't even look up from his conversation with Pansy, Zabini and Nott. Pansy, however, did look up, and gave Ron a smile that sent chills running down his spine. Then she turned to Malfoy, slipping her arm around his waist and whispering something to him, her lips almost touching his neck. Malfoy glanced up and saw Ron. For a moment, their eyes met, and Ron felt his stomach clench. A slow smirk spread across Malfoy's face, and he turned to Pansy, catching her lips in a passionate kiss.

Ron stared, appalled and revolted, as they continued to snog—right in front of the entire class, no less! "Oh god," he muttered in disgust.

Harry followed his gaze and made a face. "That's just ... gross."

Hermione sighed. "They're just doing it to get attention."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Because Malfoy can't stand not being the center of attention for more than about six seconds."

"Stuck-up prat," Harry muttered.

"Just ignore them," Hermione said.

Harry nodded, not looking away from Pansy and Malfoy. "I hate Malfoy."

"Bloody whore," Ron muttered, glaring at the two of them. "God, get a room, will you?"

"Why?" Malfoy called back. "So you can watch us without your boyfriend, Potter, finding out?"

"So I don't have to watch you, you twisted, slimy git," Ron snapped. "And Harry is not my boyfriend!"

"Sure he isn't," Malfoy said sarcastically. He pause then, "A room with a bed perhaps?"

"No. He isn't," Ron said firmly. "And I don't fucking care, as long as I don't have to be there.

"Maybe we can find you another," Draco suggested. "To share with your beloved Potter—"

"Harry is not my boyfriend!"

"What, so even he thinks you're too pathetic to bother with? Bravo, Potter. There's hope for you yet.

Harry clenched his fists, glaring angrily at Malfoy. "You bloody bastard."

"Oh, so you are dating the Weasel," Malfoy said.

"What part of 'We are just friends' escapes you?"

Draco paused to consider. "The part where anyone would want to be friends—or anything else, for that matter—with either of you. Or are you to busy screwing around with the Mudblood to bother screwing the Weasel? That really is sad.

"Don't call her that!" Ron snapped.

"Sticking up for your sweetheart, Weasel?" Malfoy sneered. "How sweet. But I'll call her whatever I damn well please, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Oh yeah?"

"Ron!" Hermione said. "Let it go."

"That's right, Weasel. Better listen to your girlfriend."

"Malfoy—" Harry began.

"Yes Potter? Jealous that your pets are dating?"

"They're not pets, Malfoy, they're my friends. But perhaps you can't understand that, seeing as you don't have any."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the Slytherins surrounding him. "And what exactly do these look like?"

"Semi-loyal minions and cheap sex," Hermione muttered.

"Well at least they don't go around screwing each other behind my back, now do they?"

"How would I know?" Hermione replied.

"Well, seeing as you can't even tell that your two 'best friends' are screwing each other, I suppose you wouldn't."

"Harry. Is. Not. My. Boyfriend." Ron said firmly.

"So you're the one fooling around with Granger. Really, I'd have thought you'd have better taste than that. Are you really so pathetic that you couldn't find yourself a nice boyfriend and had to go with the Mudblood instead? I'd have though that surely at least Longbottom might be desperate enough, but apparently I underestimated him."

"I'm not dating Hermione," Ron snapped.

"So even she turned you down? Poor baby," Malfoy said with mock sympathy. "Or are you all just too busy saving the world every other day to bother with mundane things like dating."

"We don't save the world every other day," Harry protested.

"You're right," Draco conceded. "You just try to, and end up accidentally killing your friends. Forgive me.

"You bloody bastard!" Harry screamed, looking about ready to throttle the boy.

Malfoy smirked. "Well, it's only true," he pointed out. "Unlike your uncalled for allegations about my parents—who are, in fact, married."

"No it's not!"

"What, you were trying to kill that Hufflepuff boy? I suppose that makes sense, considering your crush on his girlfriend...."

"How dare you?" Hermione demanded. "You don't even know what the hell you're talking about."

"And you couldn't even kill You-Know-Who," Malfoy continued, ignoring Hermione. "But I suppose you did manage to kill the escaped convict, so that's something."

"You bloody bastard!" Harry screamed, lunging at Malfoy and locking his hands around his throat.

"Harry—" Hermione said, reaching out to stop him. Harry ignored her, continuing to choke Malfoy.

"He's trying to kill me!" Malfoy screamed. "Somebody get him off!"

Hermione looked at Ron.

"What? He deserves it."

"Ron!"

Ron sighed. "Of fine." He resignedly walked over to attempt to detach Harry's hands from Malfoy's throat.

"That's right," Malfoy gasped. "Control your boyfriend, Weasel."

"Harry is not my boyfriend!" Ron shouted, shoving Harry away from Malfoy and socking him in the stomach.

"They're both trying to kill me," Malfoy gasped, doubled over and clutching at his stomach. "My father will—"

"I don't bloody well care what your father does," Ron growled, punching Malfoy in the face.

Malfoy staggered backwards, a trickle of blood rolling down his lip. A second later, his fist connected with Ron's jaw and Ron hit the ground, stars exploding behind his eyes. When he opened them, Malfoy was standing over him, sneering. Ron scrambled to his feet. He was vaguely aware of the other students chanting,"Fight! Fight!" and of Hermione begging him to stop before he got into trouble, but his world had narrowed to Malfoy and his desire to pound that arrogant face into the ground. Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise as Ron lunged towards him, knocking him to the ground and leaping on top of him, trying to choke him.

"Potter, get your pet off of me!" Malfoy screamed, struggling under Ron's tightening grip.

Ron had no idea what Harry was doing—the only thing he could see or think about was Malfoy. All he knew or cared about was that no one was trying to stop him. Malfoy's face was beginning to turn an interesting shade of purple, and he'd stopped screaming, though he was still struggling like mad. And then suddenly Ron was lying on his back, with Malfoy on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

The world seemed to have gone oddly silent. All he could hear was the constant, deafening beat of his own heart and all he could see was Malfoy's face, staring down into his, and a glimpse of clear blue sky. Intense, stormy, dark gray eyes—he had never really noticed the color of Malfoy's eyes before. And they were framed by long, golden eyelashes, several shades darker than his hair.... And his lips ... red and soft and warm and...

"What d' yeh two think yer doing?" Hagrid cried.

Malfoy sat up, and Ron saw that the class had formed a half-circle around them, with Pansy, Hermione, and Harry standing at the front. Now everyone was looking at Hagrid.

"Fifty points from both o' yer Houses. Honestly, ye'd think I could leave yeh on yer own fer a few minutes withou' yeh tryin' ter kill each other." He shook his head in disgust. "Ron, are yeh' alrigh'? Why don' yeh both go up ter the Hospi'al Wing an' see wha' Madam Pomfrey can do fer yeh."

"But I'm fine," Ron protested.

"Are yeh sure?"

Ron nodded. "Well, I'd be better if Malfoy'd get off of me, but other than that."

Malfoy made a face and moved to get up. "My leg!" he cried, clutching at his ankle. "I think you broke it, you inbred wanker!"

"I did not. You probably just sprained it or something."

"I can't walk!" Malfoy screamed. "You've killed me! My father's going to be hearing about this! You'll be expelled, Weasel! My leg!"

"Oh get off it," Harry muttered in annoyance.

"Ron, why don' yeh help Mr. Malfoy here up ter the Hospi'al Wing," Hagrid said, looking nervous. "And yeh can get yerself looked at while yer at it."

"You going to have him take me?" Malfoy asked in horror. "He tried to kill me!"

"Oh please," Hermione said.

"He's probably just going to try to finish the job! My life is in danger here!"

"No one bloody well cares," Ron spat.

"Now, fer the rest o' yeh, we'll be thawin' and refreezin' the Ashwinder eggs today...." Hagrid continued to detail the day's lesson, leaving Ron and Malfoy on their own.

A/N: My computer conveniently died on me, in case you were wondering why this chapter took so long. I'm sharing my sister's computer until mine is fixed (which will take a few weeks), so I can't use it as much.
Thankfully, Orange had the lastest versions of both Just a Dare and Paper Birds saved on her computer and e-mailed them to me (but not Over the Raindow, so I can't update that). I'm also going back to school, so updates will be slowing down a bit anyways.

Stars-n-moons91: I'll see what I can do twist-wise. As for Ron/Hermione, we'll just have to see. :P
LightElf 99: Well, I could do it without Orange, until my computer died. But by that point, she was back and I'd just sent her Just a Dare and Paper Birds. Thanks :-)
Amanda-panda161: I'm doing my best. :D
Kashiaga: Thanks.
Orange: Thank you soooo much!!! ::coddles newly retrieved stories::