Summary:
Ron Weasley has always been left out, and the times he's been
included he was always in the background. He needs an escape, and the
perfect escape has been sneering at him for the past 6 years. The
maliciously beautiful and manipulative Draco Malfoy will be the one
to bring Ron out of his blind stupor, and Ron realizes that maybe
having a simple life in the background wasn't such a bad idea after
all.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I own the plot... but all
the characters, places, creatures, and items belong to J.K.
Rowling.
Notes: Give credit to Placebo for this fanfic,
because their songs definitely inspired me to write it. :)
It was the first day back to Hogwarts. He had just gotten off the Hogwarts express and already Draco wanted to leave. This was his last year, he'd just turned seventeen two weeks ago and he was eager to get out into the world.
'No,' he told himself inwardly. 'Don't start pining for freedom yet, you still have an entire year at this dump to go.' He scowled to himself. One more year of learning how to defend the Dark Arts, when he had just recently taken the Mark and accepted his role as a Death Eater; one more year of Dumbledore and his little anti-Voldemort army of Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers. And most abysmally: one more year of having to deal with the existence of the dream team.
As if on cue, he heard shrill giggles accompanied by more hysterical laughter. Draco looked to his right, scanning the crowd for Weasley and Granger, whose laughter had become annoyingly familiar over the years. They were obviously making something Potter said seem more unnecessarily funny than they needed to, and Draco normally would use this as his excuse to start picking on them. That usually shut them up.
However, before he could see a flash of red hair, he saw something completely horrendous. The carriages that carried them up to the castle every year suddenly weren't being drawn by invisible horses, but completely visible ones. But, Draco mused, these were hardly horses. Dark, brooding and skeletal, the 'horses' waited silently for the students to board the carriages. They had red eyes and large bat-like wings.
'I must be seeing things,' Draco thought frantically, observing how no one else seemed to notice these hideous creatures. He slowly made his way toward the carriages, slightly untrusting of these new beasts. 'I bet this was Hagrid's doing... the big oaf probably thought they were cute.'
"What's the matter, Malfoy? You look like you've seen a troll."
Draco turned around and found himself staring at Weasley's shirt collar. He looked up, scowling at the red-head. "Doesn't seem to be a troll around, does there, Weasel? If I were you, I'd get my eyes checked because the only thing I can think of that you could possibly mistake for a troll is Hagrid, and he's already left with the first years," Draco growled.
Weasley raised an eyebrow at him, looked to his right at Potter, back to Draco, and then contorted his face into a scowl. "Gods, Malfoy, I didn't think you were that thick to take me seriously. I meant you look too pale to be legal and I felt I should be the one to make the first insult of the year this time around."
"Well, looks like you failed, as I don't really count telling me I look scared as an insult," Draco said smugly, taking note of the irked expressions on Potter and Granger's faces.
"I guess I should've said something more like 'Wow, Malfoy, you're looking awfully pale today. Mind telling me where the werewolves, trolls, hippogriffs, countless other beasts, or teachers with rolling eyes are? I don't see any...'" Weasley said, smiling. Draco hated when he smiled, especially when he was obviously mocking him with it. "So, why did you look like you were going nutters?"
"Why should I tell you?" Draco said icily. "I'm not stupid; I know you're just trying to find a new reason to get to me. Nice try, Weasley, but no matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to get as much dirt on me as I can get on you," He smiled evilly up at the red-head. "Honestly, just by looking at you anyone could tell that you're poor, unruly, forced to wear disgusting amounts of battered hand-me-downs probably from generations ago. Upon meeting your family, they'd almost feel sorry for you... living in a misshapen box for a house, having a porky mother and a Muggle-loving fool for a father. Now that I think about it, I should even feel sorry for you, if it weren't for the fact that you're also a meddlesome twit."
By this point, Weasley's face was beet red and he looked absolutely furious. Potter and Granger were trying to hold him back, looking quite constipated from the physical exertion. Weasley, unfortunately for Draco, was a lot stronger than the two of them and before he knew it, he was shoved against the door of a carriage. Weasley had his palms on the carriage door on either side of Draco and looked ready to kill.
"I'm not taking any crap from you this year, Malfoy. If you talk about my family like that again, your scrawny little neck will be snapped before you can say 'I'm a bullying prick and I deserve to die', is that clear?" the red-head growled.
"Crystal," Draco said in a mocking voice that was laced with sugar. He ducked under Weasley's arm and almost bumped into one of the horse things. His eyes widened and he stepped carefully around it, hoping it hadn't noticed him there, and continued on his way.
By the time the sorting was over and the plates on the tables were filled with food, Draco was about ready to pull out his hair. He kept feeling like people were watching him, like they knew. Like they assumed he got it, or could see right through his sleeve to the burned skin underneath it.
His hand went to his arm, trying to block prying eyes from seeing what he subconsciously knew they couldn't. If they could see through a sleeve, they surely wouldn't be able to see through flesh and bone, right? Clutching his arm, he could faintly feel the outline of the skull on his arm. He traced the serpent's head with his thumb and wondered exactly how much it burned when the Dark Lord called them. He hoped it didn't burn nearly as much as it had when he'd gotten it.
As everyone around him was shoveling food into their mouths, Draco hadn't even put food on his plate. He was too distracted by Dumbledore. Did he know? 'That old codger doesn't know anything,' Draco reassured himself. Wait, did the old bat's eyes just linger on him a second longer than necessary? Draco shuddered. As much as he hated the Headmaster, there was no doubt that he had an eerie way of seemingly seeing right through a person. It was uncomfortable.
Draco shifted in his seat and bit his lip, too paranoid to allow his hand to leave his arm for even a second. His stomach was growling but somehow he didn't feel hungry. His gaze drifted over to the Gryffindor table, where the golden trio was happily enjoying their meal and trying their best to make the new first years at home. 'Well, at least they don't seem to know anything... in fact, probably no one does. None of them know a thing.'
That was exactly it. No one did know. None of them expected a student to get the mark, he knew for a fact he was the first in his year to get the mark. His father had told him so. Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott... none of them had gotten it yet. Chances were, for safety reasons, not even they knew he'd gotten it.
But still... Draco kept getting a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach every time his gaze brushed past the staff table.
"Draco?" he heard Pansy say from two seats down. He jerked out of his thoughts and looked at her, as if just realizing she was there. "Umm... you haven't touched any food yet, are you hungry?"
She nudged the bowl of mashed potatoes toward him, as if encouraging him to take some. Leave it to Pansy to take it upon herself to mother him. She always badgered him to eat more, ever since their first year. Once Pansy Parkinson decided you needed to it, it was impossible to get around it.
"Not really, thanks, I ate a lot on the train," Draco lied, smiling. Honestly, he was worried that if he took even one bite he'd vomit. Imagining how embarrassing that would be, he decided not to risk it. Pansy seemed to take the bait and went back to talking to Millicent.
The moment she turned away Draco felt Dumbledore's eyes on him again. He tried not to look at the old Headmaster, and instead focused on studying the intricate designs on his plate. Funny, he'd never noticed them before now.
'Fuck them,' He told himself. 'Even if they do know, which they don't, they wouldn't be able to do anything about it anyway. Expel me, maybe, but other than that... Besides, how would they know? I never said anything.'
Draco knew he was always one to flaunt everything, making sure everyone within a 5 mile radius knew that he got something first, or that he knew something first, or if he did something first. But there was a line between showing off your new broomstick and showing the world your Dark Mark. Draco knew this, he'd always been taught that there were some things that were simply taboo to talk about out in the open. And he'd always known what his father was referring to when he told Draco all this.
Draco had slipped, of course, a couple of times. It takes a great deal of practice to keep a naturally loud mouth shut. His father had punished him for slipping up, of course. It was Lucius's philosophy that the harder the punishment, the more the punished would remember what they did wrong. It worked, obviously.
The Cruciatus Curse was used in the Death Eater initiation program while each member got the Mark. While Voldemort burned the Mark into his skin, a Death Eater used Crucio to distract him from the pain. Draco never imagined there would be a pain worse than having the Cruciatus Curse put on, but getting the Mark was definitely worse.
But his father had been proud. Actually told him how proud he was of Draco, and no amount of pain could take away how good that felt. Lucius had never one, in Draco's entire existence, told him he was proud of him. Not when he placed second in the year, not when he one the Quidditch final against Gryffindor last year, never. Before then, his parents had generally ignored him and left him to his own devices and a house elf to take care of him. He really only ever spoke to them at dinner, and spent time with his father when Lucius was pushing his beliefs on his son.
But now everything was different. He was officially a worthy Malfoy.
That night, the dormitory was relatively quiet. Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise were all sleeping. The only sounds in the room were Goyle's obnoxious snores, Crabbe's less obnoxious snores, and the sound of a quill on parchment. Draco peered around his curtains to the bed next to his, and saw that Theodore was up and scribbling frantically on parchment by the light of his wand.
"What're you doing?" He whispered. "You're being loud." 'And some of us are trying to sleep,' he added to himself. He'd never be rude to Theodore Nott, as he was just as rich and just as pure-blooded as he was.
Theodore looked up and half-smiled at Draco. "Finishing homework. I completely forgot that Sinistra gave us homework for the summer. An essay: 'Explain in detail reasons why you believe (or disbelieve) that astrology effects a human's personality'," He said, shaking his head solemnly and turning back to his essay. "Crazy old bat, giving us an essay like this. I bet I'm the only one in the class who actually likes astrology,"
"Don't see why you're taking that class anyway. It's not exactly a prominent skill in most careers. To look at planets, I mean," Draco said, racking his brain for any careers where astronomy would come in handy.
"It ties in directly with Divination."
"Oh," Draco said, mentally slapping himself for being so clueless. "You want to be a Seer?"
"Yes, although Trelawney hates me. Mostly because I correct her on the things she talks about," Theodore responded smugly. "I can See better than she can."
Draco nodded, although he wasn't sure if Theodore could see him in the dark. He supposed the light from Nott's wand might be bright enough to illuminate his face though.
He turned back to the air he was staring at before and zoned out into his own thoughts again. He absent-mindedly let his fingers start tracing the Mark, brushing them across the fabric of his shirt sleeve, he'd found himself doing this a lot since he got it. He figured it was some kind of morbid curiosity, as if he was waiting for it to burn again, and dreading it at the same time.
"You let your hair grow out," he heard from Theodore's bed. He looked at the boy, dumbfounded, to find him staring intently at him.
"What?" he said stupidly. Then he realized what Theodore was talking about. He had let his hair grow over the summer, even though it completely slipped his mind since he got the Mark. "Oh... yeah, I did."
"It looks good," Theodore said quickly, turning away almost as fast.
Draco paused for a moment. It just occurred to him that Theodore was the first person to say anything about his hair, unless he hadn't been listening. It was hardly unnoticeable, considering it was a good two inches longer than when he left at the end of sixth year. It now fell just below his ears and kept falling into his face whenever he moved his head.
"Thanks," he finally said, now wondering if Theodore has noticed him touching his arm when he was watching him. After a moment, he laid back and tried to go to sleep again.
The next morning, Draco was woken up why a very urgent female voice at the dormitory door.
"Greg, let me in! I need to talk to Draco!" Pansy was saying in an anxious whisper, obviously thinking Draco couldn't hear her.
"He's sleeping," Goyle said dumbly as Crabbe nodded.
Draco tried to lie still, pretending to be asleep. Whatever Pansy wanted to talk about, he guessed it had something to do with his introverted attitude at the welcoming feast last night, and he really didn't want to talk about it.
Pansy sighed, exasperated. "No, he's not."
How did she know that?
"Let her in, guys," Draco muttered from his bed. "Then leave."
Goyle moved aside, and Pansy walked in looking very proud of herself. The two gorillas left without another word, although Draco could've sworn he heard a grunt or two, and Pansy laid down next to him.
She stared at him for a moment before talking. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Draco said, probably more quickly, and more loudly, than was really necessary.
"I think you've been hanging around Crabbe and Goyle too much, Draco, because you seem to be under the impression that I'm stupid," She said, her eyes narrowing. "You didn't eat at all last night, and I could tell from your face that you didn't eat on the train and probably not for the past few days. You have circles under your eyes. You weren't talking and you looked worried about something. You're paler than usual, and your lips are chapped. You can't even begin to tell me nothing's wrong, Draco, because I know you and I know there is."
'Damn it, why does she have to pick up on these things so easily?' Draco thought angrily.
"Even if there was something wrong, I wouldn't want to talk about it," he said grumpily and got off the bed.
Pansy sat up and glared at him. "Draco, you know you'll have to talk to me sooner or later."
"Really? I didn't know that."
"Draco!" she said angrily. He half expected her to say 'don't take that tone with me, young man' along with it. "You always tell me what's on your mind. I'm hurt that you wont this time. What, are you too good for friends now?"
"God, Pansy!" Draco snapped at her. "If you know me so well, why can't you realize the 'pity me' act isn't going to work! You're not going to guilt trip me into spilling my heart out to you. If you REALLY want me to eat, I'll come to the great hall with you and you can watch me eat breakfast, alright?"
She looked appalled. "Fine, Draco, be that way. If you honestly don't care whether or not anyone cares about you, then go ahead be a prick. But when you're on the streets in the middle of Muggle London and the only thing you can do is whore yourself to middle aged business men, don't come crying to me!" She shrieked at him and stomped out of the room in a very dramatized and angry performance.
At breakfast Pansy didn't make eye contact with him, but he felt her watching him eat. They received their schedules in the middle of the meal, and Draco was very displeased to find that they had potions with the Gryffindors again.
"God damn it," he mumbled. "Every fucking year, even when we're passed the N.E.W.T's."
"This is the last year, though," said Blaise Zabini from his right, obviously understanding what Draco was mad about. "Besides, it is rather funny to see Snape pick on them."
"You just like seeing them because you have a thing for Granger," Draco sneered. Blaise looked defiant, but ended up breaking his gaze in embarrassment. "I for one, don't like them taking up my breathing room."
He suddenly found himself thinking of having to share a small confined space with Weasley, and Weasley breathing as much as possible to watch Draco suffocate.
"Whatever," Blaise said. "Some of us don't dedicate our lives to obsessively picking on the same three people, that's all I'm saying."
Draco scowled. "I don't obsessively pick on them. And I definitely don't dedicate my life to them. Far from it, actually."
Blaise smirked. "Right."
On the way down to the Potions classroom, Draco couldn't help falling into deep thought again. What if Potter knew? He always seemed to know. Draco didn't know how he managed it, but he always seemed to be laden with information about things that were supposed to be private. He was positive Dumbledore fed him all this information; or perhaps they fed it to each other.
Class went by uneventfully enough. Longbottom managed to melt his cauldron on the first day, probably a new record for him. Draco didn't understand why he'd still take this class if he knew he was so bad at it.
At the end of the class, however, Draco left the room to find the Golden Trio fighting. Or rather, Potter and Weasley. He immediately backed into the shadows the dungeons provided, and tried to blend into the wall as much as he could.
"Ron, it's your own fault for waiting so long!" Potter yelled. "I need this! I need something to take my mind off of Voldemort!"
"More like you need to take Hermione from me when you know how I feel about her!" Weasley yelled back, his voice rising steadily with each word.
"YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU LIKED HER!"
"I THOUGHT IT WAS OBVIOUS!"
Weasley then proceeded to punch Potter in the face, which came as quite a shock to Draco. It seemed to shock Potter too, as he stared at Weasley open-mouthed for what seemed like hours, even through a heavily bleeding nose. Eventually, he scrunched his face into an angry, maybe even hurt, look and walked off to the infirmary.
"So," Draco said, smirking. "The Golden trio finally breaks up... and over Granger. Not unexpected, but it's a rather trivial thing to fight about."
He stepped out of the shadows to meet Weasley's enraged face.
"You!"
"Wow, Weasley, you recognized me! I'm glad for you; although I'm afraid you might not be able to recognize Granger after Potter manages to get her chastity belt off."
"SHUT UP!" Weasley shrieked. Draco didn't think he'd ever seen Weasley this angry.
And despite this new realization, Draco's smile brightened. "So what happened? Did you catch them snogging? Or did Potter do the noble thing and hold you back to break it to you?"
"Shut UP, Malfoy!"
"I don't see why you thought you'd ever get the girl before Potter... he always gets everything before you, doesn't he? And he always gets better things, am I right? Besides, anyone in their right mind would choose just about anything over you."
Draco didn't have time to realize he'd gone too far before he was pinned against the wall. His eyes shone with malice as Weasley's face became redder and redder. It was clear he was so mad that he didn't even know how to react to anything.
"You... you don't know anything! You're just a spoiled little brat with jealousy issues! You need to get over yourself and realize that maybe other people have feelings too! You... don't realize... that... that anyone in their right mind would choose anything over you as well! Who would ever want to be with someone so... EVIL!"
Draco frowned. "Let go of me."
"Can't think of anything clever to say to that, Malfoy? You know it's true, don't you? Is Daddy's little boy finally realizing no one loves him? Not even Daddy?"
"LET GO OF ME!" Draco shrieked. It wasn't that he knew it was true... because it wasn't. None of what Weasley was saying was true. "You don't know me. You haven't any idea what you're talking about. You're too stupid to even imagine what my life's like!"
Weasley's face had gone down a few hundred degrees and he was started to look more himself. His grip loosened on Draco, and then he let go completely. "Well, if you stop assuming what my life's like, I'll stop assuming what your life's like."
Weasley walked off in the direction of the entrance hall, and Draco headed back to his common room. Neither of them realized how true their assumptions were.
A/N- R/R please! Tell me what you think, it'll motivate me!
