Chapter 12: Points to Trelawney

"I am over her," Ron declared joyfully, slamming his books on to the library desk. Harry and Hermione looked up curiously. "Love at first sight? Bah…"

"Who, pray tell?" Hermione's face was the epitome of amusement.

"Gwen, of course. Who else?" He pulled out a chair. He's never seemed so happy to be doing his homework, Harry thought.

"Since when do you LOVE Gwen in the first place?" she giggled. "Something we missed, if you've fallen out."

"I-oh." Blushing a fiery red, Ron collected his things and sprinted out of the library, leaving as quickly as he had come.

Of all the stupid things, Ronald, WHY?!??!?!? The voice ridiculed him, seeming extremely reluctant to even be a part of him right now. You told them that you loved Gwen? I didn't know that!

Yeah, well, I put my friends before my brain. Explains my marks, doesn't it?

You're avoiding the subject.

Sod OFF.

That seemed to shut the inner monologue (for now, at least, he knew that he'd get hell for-

"To be quite honest, I'm flattered-"

"That's a yes, then. Very good!"

"Well, I didn't exactly say-" Gwen's head turned in Ron's direction. "Hullo, Ron," she mumbled, her face turning a bright red.

"Gwen," he nearly growled. To think that bitch thought she had the-right-and the gall to talk to him made Ron madder than hell.

"Darling," Malfoy slid an arm around her shoulder. "There are some of us that we would not associate with. And as you can see, Weasel is a clear specimen of such…social unequals." Sneering, he began to turn her away.

"Wait, Draco," Her eyes bore into Ron's. "Did you have anything to say?"

"Not for a Slytherin whore. Hey," he spat on the ground as he left. "Points to Trelawney for helping me predict the future."

Were she an iota weaker, she would have burst into tears.

If Gwen were just an iota weaker, she'd be in tears, Malfoy realized. I've got to hand it to her, the bird's got courage.

A friendly little reminder? She's your girlfriend now.

Right…

And this fucktard just said that about her. You know, normally at least, when something of this sort happens something ELSE happens.

He wasn't sure how his fist collided with Weasley's nose, nor why, but it did.

"Two hours detention, in three week's time, in the trophy room." McGonagall seemed bored. "And an answer."

"Professor?" Malfoy cocked his head to the side.

"He wants to know why we got in the fight in the first bloody place," Ron sighed. "Or are you too stupid to notice that?"

"That answers that," she muttered. "Together, then."

"Professor, I hardly think that's-" Draco stepped forward.

"Mr. Malfoy, I am perfectly aware of your concerns. However I would remind you that it is I who am in charge of such punishments. Until such time as this is not true, it is recommendable that you do not object," She resisted a strong urge to crack a smile. Besides, it'll be interesting to see what happens. Poor Gwen... "A repeat performance will result in suspension for the both of you."

Whoop-de- doo, Ron thought. Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

"You missed a spot," Malfoy's tone lacked its usual smirk at two in the morning. "You and I know Filch'll give us both hell for something insignificant like that."

Initially, all Ron wanted to do was smack him again; after all, who was he to be telling Ron what to do or not? But…

But a) he had missed a spot, right there under some long-dead wizard's nose and b) Malfoy was right. If killing students for minor offenses was legal, Hogwarts would have to have its own cemetery for victims of Filch alone.

"Are you quiet because you hate me, or because I'm right?"

"Both," Ron turned to face the blonde Slytherin. "I did miss this spot here, but it'll never come off…" Wrinkling his own nose, he scrubbed harder at the immortal blemish. "Wish we could use magic."

"No point."

"Eh?" Ron could hardly believe that he and Malfoy could be having an insult-free conversation, much less a civil one.

"I said, there's no point." He spoke louder. "One or two spells, and you're done. Can you believe with all we are ahead of the Muggle world, we still use their punishments?"

"Could be worse. I hear Muggle teachers have you write sentences over and over again…"

"Like our History teacher?" Malfoy's smile was, for once, genuine. Without malice. "Takes all I have just to stay awake in that class, much less learn anything."

"I don't bother." Ron had stopped cleaning. "Just have Hermione take notes for me."

"Can you imagine having Crabbe and Goyle take my notes?" Malfoy chuckled. "They probably don't even know how to write, the gits."

"And these are your best friends?"

"Sadly, yes." Malfoy's sigh, although full of sarcasm, was weary and frustrated. "Hang on to me like two bloody puppy dogs. If they weren't pureblood and rich as hell, I'd have them removed from my sight."

"The truth comes out!" Ron giggled. "Not all Slytherins are perfect after all."

"You kidding? Most of the guys are thicker than a subthaline-sum-baryne? Some Muggle device, whatever it is. They're thick. And the girls aren't much better, to tell you the truth. Every last one of them whores or liars. Those rare few that aren't so stupid that you can't stand them are craftier than hell, and you have to watch out for them."

"Which is why you find girls from different classes," Ron's voice fell. "Like Gwen."

"You fancy her, mate?" The question seemed natural.

"Don't know her all that well, bu-"

"Yeah, you do."

"Well, do you?" Ron instantly felt tired and let down, as if he'd just lost a Quiddich match. "Silly question. You asked her out."

"At first it was just to spite you, actually." Malfoy was not sure what response this would bring. "I mean, here was this good-looking bird you obviously fancied, and here was an opportunity-"

"I don't fancy her, mate."

"Ron, you're a worse thick-headed git than even I imagined you to be if you honestly believed that…mate."