I wanted to thank everyone who read and have enjoyed so far. I know I've
responded to everyone personally about feedback except "Ash" who didn't
leave an email address. Thank you hon for your feedback, I adore and crave
it and I'm pleased you like my Marcus. I couldn't leave Harry out and
although he wasn't supposed to be in 'lurve' with Ron it happened
anyway...hope you continue to read.
Okay enough chatter...on with the chapter.
Jux
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hermione stood at the foot of the very bed Ron had been sitting on only a moment ago. Her eyes flickered over the entire hospital wing before returning to him once more.
Ron took in the appearance of his other best friend, noticing how her left hand smoothed over her curly tresses, flicking them over her shoulder in annoyance when they refused to remain straight. Finally she came forward to stand beside him.
Her eyes slid from his, to Harry tucked up in bed and snoring softly, then back again.
"What happened?" she whispered harshly.
Ron scowled at her, holding his index finger to his lips. "Shhhh!!!"
Hermione's head snapped back; she scowled at him, her eyebrows knitted. Ron almost laughed out loud, he felt like doing just that, but instead he smirked at the righteous indignation written all over her face.
"I will not be shh-ed, not by you, nor anyone. Everyone is talking about your little stroll around the corridors with Malfoy... of all people. Apparently you were whispering amongst yourselves while casually levitating an unconscious Harry between you." her voice rising steadily with every word that spat out between her lips.
Ron attempted to shush her again, and then thought better of it. "You'll wake Harry and he's already had a hellish day. Please, if you stop growling at me for a second, then I can explain."
Hermione raised her chin, one hand instantly assumed its usual position on her hip. "Okay then, enlighten me but you have no idea what they're saying about you two." she muttered.
Ron swallowed thickly "Okay, Harry and I were headed to the kitchens hoping to bribe some breakfast out of the house-elves. He got there ahead of me and when I arrived Malfoy was standing over him and he was bleeding all over the floor. Well, one thing led to another-I shoved Malfoy up against the wall-he whipped out his wand while I was hugging Harry to me thinking he was getting ready to attack..." Ron halted to see how she was taking this news.
"What happened next?" she encouraged him to continue.
"Honestly, I don't know. I do know that I was strangling Harry and Malfoy was screaming at me to stop, but I couldn't let him go, I had no will of my own. He then slapped me. It broke whatever spell that had been cast. Well... I hope it was a spell and not a sign that I'm losing my mind."
Hermione was frowning; her anger had changed to confusion and it was plain that she was anxiously trying to understand all she'd been told. "You think a spell was involved, that someone made you kill Harry? Why would you think that?"
Ron was taken back "Do you actually think I'd try and kill my best friend?"
Hermione huffed. "Of course not. It's just you don't exactly have any proof here. A student, let alone a teacher would have to be pretty daft to try something like that in Dumbledore's presence. Don't you think?"
"Maybe?" Ron shrugged, his shoulders sagging. Maybe he was going insane. Only a moment ago he'd been so sure it was some type of wizardry that had made him hurt Harry. How could it have been anything else? But Hermione could be right; she was wickedly smart in these matters. Why would someone risk killing Harry inside Hogwarts?
Turning to face him, Hermione suddenly gripped his arm tightly. "Then again, who was conveniently there to save Harry?"
"Malfoy," Ron uttered, his mouth gaping. Why hadn't he thought of this before?
"Exactly," She smiled. "And who does he like to taunt above all others?"
"Me." He answered breathlessly. Damn it! He should have seen this from the beginning. He'd never even thought to question Malfoy's innocence in the whole debacle. Of course it was Malfoy. He hated Harry. Why on earth would he even attempt to save him now? Simple...he never would.
Hermione sighed. Instead of moving around to the other side of the bed, she stayed firmly beside Ron only leaning forward so that she smiled affectionately down at Harry, who was peacefully sleeping, the warm blankets tucked snuggly under his chin. She could just make out the dusky curve of eyelashes as they rested against his cheek.
******************************************
Even after six years of knowing Hermione Granger it was virtually impossible for him to say no to her. She has this uncanny ability to ferret out his much-suppressed need to 'please' and use it masterfully against him.
"Ron, if you just spent two minutes remembering the uses for whatever ingredient Professor Snape intends to use in his next class, then I could spend more time helping you revise spells and less time scrubbing at the potion stains on my robes. Together you and Neville spell disaster."
It was because of one of those not so subtle hints that he found himself in the library for Merlin's sake. And on the weekend to boot! All he wanted to do was find Malfoy and throttle the bastard.
"Have you by any chance finished your Transfiguration assignment due on Tuesday?"
"No, I thought I'd tackle it in free period after lunch tomorrow."
"It's Sunday, you only have two days, not even that." Hermione had gasped when he couldn't meet her eyes. "You haven't even started it, have you?"
Ron had looked sheepish, avoiding her glare so he wouldn't have to respond to her. Not that he had to say a thing; his continued silence said it all.
"Oh Ron, how will you be able to teach me that chess move so that I can finally shatter that insufferable prick Zabini's blasted winning streak?" Her eyes had slightly misted and her lips trembled minutely. "Professor McGonagall will seize more points from Gryffindor if you don't complete that project. Beside that, you'll get yourself detention. You know very well that she's cracking down on students who repeatedly slack off." Hermione had raised her eyebrows at him then, as if to say 'Like you for instance'.
So, now Ron was jammed into the furthest, rankest corner of the library he could find. It's not like he didn't have his choice of seating, he was definitely alone besides the hovering presence of Madam Pince, who had already snuck up on him once and nearly had him peeing in his pants when her bony fingers had nearly crushed his shoulder. This woman was especially creepy. Her eagle eyes following you around the room; it brought shivers down your spine just to have her unblinking attention on you.
Of course that was his main reason for settling himself into the moldiest spot, knowing that not even she would dare venture into the 'stacks that time forgot' just to check and see if he wasn't damaging her precious books. Every page on those shelves threatened to have his eyes practically bugging out of his head with the force of his sneezes. Thank Merlin, a quick 'blocking charm' put an end to that slight hitch to remain hidden.
The reason he had let himself be chased away from the infirmary was not so much Hermione's words but just the need to get the hell out of that cloying environment. Although he wasn't positive sitting surrounded by copious amounts of mould was any better for his health, it was away from Harry and right now he needed that time alone.
He'd very possibly destroyed his relationship with his best mate and Malfoy was at least partially responsible for that. Would the blonde actually stoop to using him to kill Harry? Although, Hermione's words had made sense and it was true he had been the only other person in the room. Still, it didn't seem like Malfoy. The git was too darn proud to use someone else to crush Harry. Ron was sure if it ever came down to that, Draco Malfoy would gleefully sign up to end Harry Potter's life.
Ron sat, with the legs of his chair tilted precariously on one angle, his feet hooked under the desk in front of him for support. The required reading 'How to Master those Most Difficult Transformations' was spread open at some random page, while he tried determinedly to remain focused on the words that kept blurring before him.
It was only when he was just beginning to doze off for the umpteenth time that he heard a tiny squeak very close to his position. Instantly, Ron believed he'd been found by the ever diligent Madam Pince. He scrambled out of his chair forgetting he was balanced on two chair legs and nearly ended up sprawled on his arse on the stone floor. If it hadn't been for his Quidditch trained lightening reflexes, he would have all but alerted his position in seconds, probably tossed out for his impertinence as well.
Instead, his right hand had shot out and seized the corner of the table till he could rectify the situation and pull himself upright. The chair connected with the floor without a sound and it was only then that Ron noticed there were no eyes glaring at him with open contempt. In fact there was no one there at all.
Ron winced and leaned the same hand he had used to stop himself from falling onto the desk. Ignoring the dull thud of pain, he pushed the chair back so that he could further investigate the sound that had disturbed him only a moment ago.
Massaging his sprained wrist with the fingers of his other hand, he edged up the first aisle, constantly tuned to any stray noises. A chill sunk into his bones as he crept closer to the mouth of the long corridor, sure he did not want to know what lay in wait for him there.
Before he even reached the end, he heard a soft curse to his left. Freezing, he stared at the row of brittle books before him; he realized the sound had come from the next aisle. Slowly turning to face the haphazardly stocked shelf, he listened carefully and it was when he strained to hear who or what was on the other side, that he distinctly heard the soft flutter of pages being turned.
Intrigued, Ron squatted down onto the floor and tried to peer through the tops of the books, but he could see nothing. He heard a soft giggle and was more determined then ever to see who else had taken shelter amongst the same moldy books as he. Closing his eyes to better train his ears to pinpoint his companion's position, he finally grinned when he zeroed in on another stifled giggle.
Shuffling soundlessly on his knees back towards the desk again, he halted in his journey, rocking back on his heels when he zeroed in on the sound of more pages being turned. Holding his breath he nearly choked when he forgot his nose was still under the 'blocking charm'. Sucking in a rush of air he froze when it seemed as if the person on the other side had heard him too.
Ron cursed silently in his head at his stupidity, but was relieved when after what seemed like an endless loop of time; the soft flicker of pages being turned began again.
Taking care not to lean his weight on the frame, lest it creak under his weight and give him away, he craned his neck forward to once again peer through the tops of the books to the aisle on the other side.
At first he could see nothing and his stomach plummeted in disappointment but then he caught the slightest movement. Inclining to the right and scrunching down to the lowest row of books, Ron squinted through a tiny gap. His eyes widened comically.
There on the other side, legs drawn up towards his stomach, a book balanced on his bent knees was the Slytherin prince: Draco Malfoy.
Ron almost growled verbally, annoyed that he'd spent the last few minutes crawling on a floor that was riddled with potentially deadly spores, just so that he could spy on Malfoy of all people.
Ron entertained the perfect fantasy where he pushed the shelf over, killing Malfoy in the process and ridding the world of yet another Death Eater. As much as that idea brought a smile to his lips, he could never actually kill him without provocation. Even then he'd rather see Draco Malfoy in Azkaban for the rest of his life.
His ears pricked when he again heard a soft chuckle, complete with what sounded distinctly like the tearing of paper.
Ron gently nudged at the book that was hindering his view of the blonde ferret. Stretching out on his stomach on the floor he could comfortably observe his prey without his knowledge.
He watched as Malfoy carefully folded a torn page from a book he was reading, before slipping it into a pocket in his robes.
What was he doing here? He'd hidden here to escape a nosey librarian and his thoughts, what was Malfoy's excuse?
For days something had been up with the blonde. First, the strange compliments and then the conversation with Dobby that he'd caught snatches of before being found out...it all added up to somewhat of a puzzle. Then of course there was rescuing his nemesis. That part was still in doubt. Maybe he was reading too much into all this and he should just collect his things and go back to the common room.
It was just as he'd made up his mind to leave that Ron noticed the title of the book Malfoy held in his hands. 'Pride and Prejudice', he wasn't certain but he was sure he'd seen Hermione with that very book over a year ago. A muggle romance novel if he remembered correctly, written nearly two centuries ago. 'Gods, it must have been a first edition.' The state of it was not good, but stranger then that Malfoy didn't seem to care that the pages were crumbling under his fingertips. He appeared to be hungrily devouring every word, eyes skimming across each page, totally engrossed and not at all disgusted by the flakes of moldy pages that littered his robes.
Why was Malfoy reading a book written by a muggle for muggle's? Every member of his pureblood family loathed anything muggle related. What did Malfoy think he was going to gain by reading this book?
Emotions like Ron had never known were possible, were flitting across the blondes face. He was awestruck just watching an entire range of feeling blossom across that pale complexion he had only known in its icy state.
Beside Draco, piled in a messy heap lay other such similar books, 'Huckleberry Finn', 'Moby Dick', 'To Kill a Mockingbird' to name a few. Ron tried to make out more of the titles, but the writing was too worn he could only read a couple of the letters if he squinted at them with his head tilted to the side.
"Ron, what are you doing?"
"Shit." Ron gasped in alarm, jumping to his feet, to find Harry at the end of the aisle gaping at him incredulously.
Merlin, where in the heck did he come from? When did Harry wake up, he thought the potion was supposed to last all-night and why was he here in particular? Ron couldn't even find the words to even begin to answer Harry back.
A crash from the opposite aisle distracted Harry in what Ron presumed was Malfoy's tower of books collapsing in the blonde's bid to escape being detected.
Harry whipped around the corner just in time to catch a swirl of black robes and that unmistakable platinum blonde head disappearing around the opposite corner.
"Malfoy!" he raged, but the Slytherin was too quick as he escaped out the library entrance, not once looking back.
Ron cursed under his breath as he collected his notebook and quill from the desk, Harry appeared around the corner, out of breath and furious.
"What was he doing here?" he snapped at the redhead.
"How the hell would I know?" Ron retorted, getting the tiniest bit peeved at Harry's attitude.
"You were here, together?" Harry fumed, slamming his hand into a row of books to his right. A huge cloud of pulverized paper dust billowed up the aisle sending Harry into a violent coughing fit.
Served him bloody well right, it wasn't often that his infamous Weasley temper was directed at his best friend, but right now he was absolutely livid.
"Not that you have a say on who I can or cannot talk to...but for Merlin's sake, MALFOY?" he screamed at Harry, completely incensed. "If you must know I was spying on him until you walked in and started ranting like a loony." He growled, dangerously close to wanting to smack his best friend.
"Oh really, why would you want to do that, why would anyone? Besides you were smiling sappily at him," he hissed back.
"I did no such thing," his cheeks aflame. Despite the whole breaking Harry's heart a couple of hours ago, Ron wanted nothing more than to knock his teeth in at the sneer plastered across Harry's face. "The git is up to something. He's changed and I don't know about you but I want to know why."
"Why? It's Malfoy?" he whined.
"Because it is Malfoy and he is our enemy if you remember. He has continually taunted us from year one and suddenly he's acting weird, saving you for instance."
"He complimented...you"
"Whatever, I don't buy this switch in personality. Clearly he's up to something."
Harry ignored everything Ron had just said. "You like him?" and the sadness was etched in every word.
"No!!" Ron gritted his teeth before sighing exhaustedly. "Oh, forget it. I need to get some sleep and you're obviously not ready to listen." He pushed past a silent Harry, sidestepping an approaching Madam Pince who was coming to see what all the kafuffle was about.
********************************************
Draco sat curled up like a contented pussycat on the plush forest green of his bedspread, except he was anything but contented.
One long tapered finger marked the sentence he had been rereading for the past ten minutes. It was useless, he couldn't focus and it was only steadily getting worse. The Transfiguration assignment was due in two days and he'd hardly made a dent in starting the blasted thing. He scoffed at his father sending him a howler when he heard through the grapevine that his son got a 'D' for incompletion.
Draco became resigned to the fact that nothing more was going to get finished tonight as he slammed the book shut. Flopping onto his back, he glared at the ceiling. He couldn't focus, not when all he could think about was that Ron had possibly been watching him. For how long he had no idea...this was not good. He wasn't ready for everyone to know about him.
The shock of what his mother had told him over the summer was only beginning to sink in. He had yet to come to grips with its destructive behaviour in his life, in everything he had ever been taught to believe.
Suddenly, the door burst open, crashing against the wall, the sound reverberating around the small bedroom. A figure shrouded in shadow stood filling the doorway.
Draco sat straight up in bed, his breath trapped in his throat as the seventh year Slytherin entered uninvited into his room. He tried not to tremble as those eyes slid languidly over his rigid body. With a flick of the older boy's wrist, the door was snapped closed behind him. He leaned casually against it, arms crossed; a deadly smirk that highlighted the piercing green of his eyes... met Draco's across the room. The colour reminded the blonde of only one person, as his visitor began to speak.
"Why Draco, I heard the most delicious gossip about you from an aunt today. I've come to find out for myself if it's all true..." he drawled, pushing off from the door and closing in rapidly on the blonde who was desperately inching back against the headboard, nowhere to run as the shadow loomed menacingly over him.
....................................................................................................
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hermione stood at the foot of the very bed Ron had been sitting on only a moment ago. Her eyes flickered over the entire hospital wing before returning to him once more.
Ron took in the appearance of his other best friend, noticing how her left hand smoothed over her curly tresses, flicking them over her shoulder in annoyance when they refused to remain straight. Finally she came forward to stand beside him.
Her eyes slid from his, to Harry tucked up in bed and snoring softly, then back again.
"What happened?" she whispered harshly.
Ron scowled at her, holding his index finger to his lips. "Shhhh!!!"
Hermione's head snapped back; she scowled at him, her eyebrows knitted. Ron almost laughed out loud, he felt like doing just that, but instead he smirked at the righteous indignation written all over her face.
"I will not be shh-ed, not by you, nor anyone. Everyone is talking about your little stroll around the corridors with Malfoy... of all people. Apparently you were whispering amongst yourselves while casually levitating an unconscious Harry between you." her voice rising steadily with every word that spat out between her lips.
Ron attempted to shush her again, and then thought better of it. "You'll wake Harry and he's already had a hellish day. Please, if you stop growling at me for a second, then I can explain."
Hermione raised her chin, one hand instantly assumed its usual position on her hip. "Okay then, enlighten me but you have no idea what they're saying about you two." she muttered.
Ron swallowed thickly "Okay, Harry and I were headed to the kitchens hoping to bribe some breakfast out of the house-elves. He got there ahead of me and when I arrived Malfoy was standing over him and he was bleeding all over the floor. Well, one thing led to another-I shoved Malfoy up against the wall-he whipped out his wand while I was hugging Harry to me thinking he was getting ready to attack..." Ron halted to see how she was taking this news.
"What happened next?" she encouraged him to continue.
"Honestly, I don't know. I do know that I was strangling Harry and Malfoy was screaming at me to stop, but I couldn't let him go, I had no will of my own. He then slapped me. It broke whatever spell that had been cast. Well... I hope it was a spell and not a sign that I'm losing my mind."
Hermione was frowning; her anger had changed to confusion and it was plain that she was anxiously trying to understand all she'd been told. "You think a spell was involved, that someone made you kill Harry? Why would you think that?"
Ron was taken back "Do you actually think I'd try and kill my best friend?"
Hermione huffed. "Of course not. It's just you don't exactly have any proof here. A student, let alone a teacher would have to be pretty daft to try something like that in Dumbledore's presence. Don't you think?"
"Maybe?" Ron shrugged, his shoulders sagging. Maybe he was going insane. Only a moment ago he'd been so sure it was some type of wizardry that had made him hurt Harry. How could it have been anything else? But Hermione could be right; she was wickedly smart in these matters. Why would someone risk killing Harry inside Hogwarts?
Turning to face him, Hermione suddenly gripped his arm tightly. "Then again, who was conveniently there to save Harry?"
"Malfoy," Ron uttered, his mouth gaping. Why hadn't he thought of this before?
"Exactly," She smiled. "And who does he like to taunt above all others?"
"Me." He answered breathlessly. Damn it! He should have seen this from the beginning. He'd never even thought to question Malfoy's innocence in the whole debacle. Of course it was Malfoy. He hated Harry. Why on earth would he even attempt to save him now? Simple...he never would.
Hermione sighed. Instead of moving around to the other side of the bed, she stayed firmly beside Ron only leaning forward so that she smiled affectionately down at Harry, who was peacefully sleeping, the warm blankets tucked snuggly under his chin. She could just make out the dusky curve of eyelashes as they rested against his cheek.
******************************************
Even after six years of knowing Hermione Granger it was virtually impossible for him to say no to her. She has this uncanny ability to ferret out his much-suppressed need to 'please' and use it masterfully against him.
"Ron, if you just spent two minutes remembering the uses for whatever ingredient Professor Snape intends to use in his next class, then I could spend more time helping you revise spells and less time scrubbing at the potion stains on my robes. Together you and Neville spell disaster."
It was because of one of those not so subtle hints that he found himself in the library for Merlin's sake. And on the weekend to boot! All he wanted to do was find Malfoy and throttle the bastard.
"Have you by any chance finished your Transfiguration assignment due on Tuesday?"
"No, I thought I'd tackle it in free period after lunch tomorrow."
"It's Sunday, you only have two days, not even that." Hermione had gasped when he couldn't meet her eyes. "You haven't even started it, have you?"
Ron had looked sheepish, avoiding her glare so he wouldn't have to respond to her. Not that he had to say a thing; his continued silence said it all.
"Oh Ron, how will you be able to teach me that chess move so that I can finally shatter that insufferable prick Zabini's blasted winning streak?" Her eyes had slightly misted and her lips trembled minutely. "Professor McGonagall will seize more points from Gryffindor if you don't complete that project. Beside that, you'll get yourself detention. You know very well that she's cracking down on students who repeatedly slack off." Hermione had raised her eyebrows at him then, as if to say 'Like you for instance'.
So, now Ron was jammed into the furthest, rankest corner of the library he could find. It's not like he didn't have his choice of seating, he was definitely alone besides the hovering presence of Madam Pince, who had already snuck up on him once and nearly had him peeing in his pants when her bony fingers had nearly crushed his shoulder. This woman was especially creepy. Her eagle eyes following you around the room; it brought shivers down your spine just to have her unblinking attention on you.
Of course that was his main reason for settling himself into the moldiest spot, knowing that not even she would dare venture into the 'stacks that time forgot' just to check and see if he wasn't damaging her precious books. Every page on those shelves threatened to have his eyes practically bugging out of his head with the force of his sneezes. Thank Merlin, a quick 'blocking charm' put an end to that slight hitch to remain hidden.
The reason he had let himself be chased away from the infirmary was not so much Hermione's words but just the need to get the hell out of that cloying environment. Although he wasn't positive sitting surrounded by copious amounts of mould was any better for his health, it was away from Harry and right now he needed that time alone.
He'd very possibly destroyed his relationship with his best mate and Malfoy was at least partially responsible for that. Would the blonde actually stoop to using him to kill Harry? Although, Hermione's words had made sense and it was true he had been the only other person in the room. Still, it didn't seem like Malfoy. The git was too darn proud to use someone else to crush Harry. Ron was sure if it ever came down to that, Draco Malfoy would gleefully sign up to end Harry Potter's life.
Ron sat, with the legs of his chair tilted precariously on one angle, his feet hooked under the desk in front of him for support. The required reading 'How to Master those Most Difficult Transformations' was spread open at some random page, while he tried determinedly to remain focused on the words that kept blurring before him.
It was only when he was just beginning to doze off for the umpteenth time that he heard a tiny squeak very close to his position. Instantly, Ron believed he'd been found by the ever diligent Madam Pince. He scrambled out of his chair forgetting he was balanced on two chair legs and nearly ended up sprawled on his arse on the stone floor. If it hadn't been for his Quidditch trained lightening reflexes, he would have all but alerted his position in seconds, probably tossed out for his impertinence as well.
Instead, his right hand had shot out and seized the corner of the table till he could rectify the situation and pull himself upright. The chair connected with the floor without a sound and it was only then that Ron noticed there were no eyes glaring at him with open contempt. In fact there was no one there at all.
Ron winced and leaned the same hand he had used to stop himself from falling onto the desk. Ignoring the dull thud of pain, he pushed the chair back so that he could further investigate the sound that had disturbed him only a moment ago.
Massaging his sprained wrist with the fingers of his other hand, he edged up the first aisle, constantly tuned to any stray noises. A chill sunk into his bones as he crept closer to the mouth of the long corridor, sure he did not want to know what lay in wait for him there.
Before he even reached the end, he heard a soft curse to his left. Freezing, he stared at the row of brittle books before him; he realized the sound had come from the next aisle. Slowly turning to face the haphazardly stocked shelf, he listened carefully and it was when he strained to hear who or what was on the other side, that he distinctly heard the soft flutter of pages being turned.
Intrigued, Ron squatted down onto the floor and tried to peer through the tops of the books, but he could see nothing. He heard a soft giggle and was more determined then ever to see who else had taken shelter amongst the same moldy books as he. Closing his eyes to better train his ears to pinpoint his companion's position, he finally grinned when he zeroed in on another stifled giggle.
Shuffling soundlessly on his knees back towards the desk again, he halted in his journey, rocking back on his heels when he zeroed in on the sound of more pages being turned. Holding his breath he nearly choked when he forgot his nose was still under the 'blocking charm'. Sucking in a rush of air he froze when it seemed as if the person on the other side had heard him too.
Ron cursed silently in his head at his stupidity, but was relieved when after what seemed like an endless loop of time; the soft flicker of pages being turned began again.
Taking care not to lean his weight on the frame, lest it creak under his weight and give him away, he craned his neck forward to once again peer through the tops of the books to the aisle on the other side.
At first he could see nothing and his stomach plummeted in disappointment but then he caught the slightest movement. Inclining to the right and scrunching down to the lowest row of books, Ron squinted through a tiny gap. His eyes widened comically.
There on the other side, legs drawn up towards his stomach, a book balanced on his bent knees was the Slytherin prince: Draco Malfoy.
Ron almost growled verbally, annoyed that he'd spent the last few minutes crawling on a floor that was riddled with potentially deadly spores, just so that he could spy on Malfoy of all people.
Ron entertained the perfect fantasy where he pushed the shelf over, killing Malfoy in the process and ridding the world of yet another Death Eater. As much as that idea brought a smile to his lips, he could never actually kill him without provocation. Even then he'd rather see Draco Malfoy in Azkaban for the rest of his life.
His ears pricked when he again heard a soft chuckle, complete with what sounded distinctly like the tearing of paper.
Ron gently nudged at the book that was hindering his view of the blonde ferret. Stretching out on his stomach on the floor he could comfortably observe his prey without his knowledge.
He watched as Malfoy carefully folded a torn page from a book he was reading, before slipping it into a pocket in his robes.
What was he doing here? He'd hidden here to escape a nosey librarian and his thoughts, what was Malfoy's excuse?
For days something had been up with the blonde. First, the strange compliments and then the conversation with Dobby that he'd caught snatches of before being found out...it all added up to somewhat of a puzzle. Then of course there was rescuing his nemesis. That part was still in doubt. Maybe he was reading too much into all this and he should just collect his things and go back to the common room.
It was just as he'd made up his mind to leave that Ron noticed the title of the book Malfoy held in his hands. 'Pride and Prejudice', he wasn't certain but he was sure he'd seen Hermione with that very book over a year ago. A muggle romance novel if he remembered correctly, written nearly two centuries ago. 'Gods, it must have been a first edition.' The state of it was not good, but stranger then that Malfoy didn't seem to care that the pages were crumbling under his fingertips. He appeared to be hungrily devouring every word, eyes skimming across each page, totally engrossed and not at all disgusted by the flakes of moldy pages that littered his robes.
Why was Malfoy reading a book written by a muggle for muggle's? Every member of his pureblood family loathed anything muggle related. What did Malfoy think he was going to gain by reading this book?
Emotions like Ron had never known were possible, were flitting across the blondes face. He was awestruck just watching an entire range of feeling blossom across that pale complexion he had only known in its icy state.
Beside Draco, piled in a messy heap lay other such similar books, 'Huckleberry Finn', 'Moby Dick', 'To Kill a Mockingbird' to name a few. Ron tried to make out more of the titles, but the writing was too worn he could only read a couple of the letters if he squinted at them with his head tilted to the side.
"Ron, what are you doing?"
"Shit." Ron gasped in alarm, jumping to his feet, to find Harry at the end of the aisle gaping at him incredulously.
Merlin, where in the heck did he come from? When did Harry wake up, he thought the potion was supposed to last all-night and why was he here in particular? Ron couldn't even find the words to even begin to answer Harry back.
A crash from the opposite aisle distracted Harry in what Ron presumed was Malfoy's tower of books collapsing in the blonde's bid to escape being detected.
Harry whipped around the corner just in time to catch a swirl of black robes and that unmistakable platinum blonde head disappearing around the opposite corner.
"Malfoy!" he raged, but the Slytherin was too quick as he escaped out the library entrance, not once looking back.
Ron cursed under his breath as he collected his notebook and quill from the desk, Harry appeared around the corner, out of breath and furious.
"What was he doing here?" he snapped at the redhead.
"How the hell would I know?" Ron retorted, getting the tiniest bit peeved at Harry's attitude.
"You were here, together?" Harry fumed, slamming his hand into a row of books to his right. A huge cloud of pulverized paper dust billowed up the aisle sending Harry into a violent coughing fit.
Served him bloody well right, it wasn't often that his infamous Weasley temper was directed at his best friend, but right now he was absolutely livid.
"Not that you have a say on who I can or cannot talk to...but for Merlin's sake, MALFOY?" he screamed at Harry, completely incensed. "If you must know I was spying on him until you walked in and started ranting like a loony." He growled, dangerously close to wanting to smack his best friend.
"Oh really, why would you want to do that, why would anyone? Besides you were smiling sappily at him," he hissed back.
"I did no such thing," his cheeks aflame. Despite the whole breaking Harry's heart a couple of hours ago, Ron wanted nothing more than to knock his teeth in at the sneer plastered across Harry's face. "The git is up to something. He's changed and I don't know about you but I want to know why."
"Why? It's Malfoy?" he whined.
"Because it is Malfoy and he is our enemy if you remember. He has continually taunted us from year one and suddenly he's acting weird, saving you for instance."
"He complimented...you"
"Whatever, I don't buy this switch in personality. Clearly he's up to something."
Harry ignored everything Ron had just said. "You like him?" and the sadness was etched in every word.
"No!!" Ron gritted his teeth before sighing exhaustedly. "Oh, forget it. I need to get some sleep and you're obviously not ready to listen." He pushed past a silent Harry, sidestepping an approaching Madam Pince who was coming to see what all the kafuffle was about.
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Draco sat curled up like a contented pussycat on the plush forest green of his bedspread, except he was anything but contented.
One long tapered finger marked the sentence he had been rereading for the past ten minutes. It was useless, he couldn't focus and it was only steadily getting worse. The Transfiguration assignment was due in two days and he'd hardly made a dent in starting the blasted thing. He scoffed at his father sending him a howler when he heard through the grapevine that his son got a 'D' for incompletion.
Draco became resigned to the fact that nothing more was going to get finished tonight as he slammed the book shut. Flopping onto his back, he glared at the ceiling. He couldn't focus, not when all he could think about was that Ron had possibly been watching him. For how long he had no idea...this was not good. He wasn't ready for everyone to know about him.
The shock of what his mother had told him over the summer was only beginning to sink in. He had yet to come to grips with its destructive behaviour in his life, in everything he had ever been taught to believe.
Suddenly, the door burst open, crashing against the wall, the sound reverberating around the small bedroom. A figure shrouded in shadow stood filling the doorway.
Draco sat straight up in bed, his breath trapped in his throat as the seventh year Slytherin entered uninvited into his room. He tried not to tremble as those eyes slid languidly over his rigid body. With a flick of the older boy's wrist, the door was snapped closed behind him. He leaned casually against it, arms crossed; a deadly smirk that highlighted the piercing green of his eyes... met Draco's across the room. The colour reminded the blonde of only one person, as his visitor began to speak.
"Why Draco, I heard the most delicious gossip about you from an aunt today. I've come to find out for myself if it's all true..." he drawled, pushing off from the door and closing in rapidly on the blonde who was desperately inching back against the headboard, nowhere to run as the shadow loomed menacingly over him.
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