LOTR Sparkling Pippin- I'm hurrying , I promise *grin* Thank you hon for
all comments, ecstatic that you are liking everything and hope you continue
to enjoy.
It may take a little longer for me to finish the next parts as I'm trying
to finish a slew of WIP's I have in another fandom because having them
uncompleted is driving me batty. LOL . No, I'm not stopping this story,
just slowing down a little.
Chapter Thirteen
Ron paced the hallways, going wherever the stairs led him, further into the bowels of the ancient castle, and strangely enough, towards the dungeons. He had no planned destination, just a desire to keep moving, not to let his anger get the better of him. Before he could snap out of his black mood, he found himself outside Professor Snape's classroom, his hand already curled around the door handle.
Blinking at the heavy wooden door before him, Ron was confused as to how he'd managed to end up here of all places and at least twenty minutes before the start of class to boot! Ron didn't like to be in Professor Snape's presence at the best of times, let alone be early to one of his classes.
So, how did he end up here? He really had to pay more attention when he was forced into one of his infamous brooding sessions. Taking his hand back from the rough iron knob, as if a mere touch would burn him, he quickly turned and made his way back up the stairs.
He barely tolerated the man most of the time and for that very reason would never incite a confrontation with the potion master, especially since expulsion would clearly be the result with the mood he was in.
Ron was about three-quarters of the way up the first flight of stairs when he heard someone coming down them, not far above him and moving incredibly fast.
'Blast' Ron panicked. Last thing he needed was to be caught loitering in the dungeon, particularly if it was who he thought it was.
Without an escape route he had only one course of action, back down and into the classroom. Taking the stairs three at a time, he reached the door, pulled it open and slipped inside.
He immediately noticed Malfoy seated in the front row on the Slytherin side of the room. Ron paused, instantly forgetting that there had been someone closing in behind him.
So this is where the dirty scoundrel had gotten too. He was avoiding eating breakfast altogether now so he could spend more time sucking up to his master. How sweet.
Ron got curious as he moved down the centre aisle; he hesitated at his usual desk but kept moving when he decided messing with Malfoy might be more fun.
Seating himself directly opposite the blonde, he made a show out of emptying his books, quills and etcetera, onto the desk. He was rather disappointed when Malfoy didn't even turn to sneer at him. Five minutes and there had been not a single slur uttered his way, all was definitely not right with the world.
Where was the Professor in all this? Ron had expected to see him rush into the room behind him. He'd have sworn it was Snape's footsteps, but if so, where was he? The stairs led nowhere else; even if it hadn't been the professor it had to be someone, right?
Ron turned around in his seat and stared at the door, almost wishing Snape would come through it. Narrowing his eyes at the door, he growled. What in the hell was going on? He caught movement beside him and switched to glaring at Malfoy instead.
"What's wrong with you?" he seethed, his fingers wrapping around the end of his wand that lay across his lap, concealed in the folds of his robes.
No response to his question, not a look or a carefully thrown insult, nothing.
Ron swung his eyes around to the front and threw hateful glances at the defenceless blackboard. His fingers tightening around the wand till he heard a solid crack, immediately he let go, goddamn it!
Why was it that Malfoy could summon his darkest thoughts with only his mere presence in the same room? The unmitigated bastard didn't even have to open that acidic mouth of his, to have that same effect that he always did. Ron had broken yet another wand, won't mum be pleased.
Ron closed his eyes for a moment, pulling in the fragments of his anger, tugging them in close to him so as not to unleash it on that worthless blonde, no matter how much he was tempted.
The unending, ceaseless hush that followed was hell on earth. It infused every particle.
He could stand it no longer. Ron jumped out of his chair, shoving the two useless halves of his wand into his pocket, he stood in the aisle facing Malfoy, glaring down at the bane of his existence and daring him not to react.
Unfortunately that's exactly what Draco did; he took that silent challenge and effectively blocked Ron from his mind.
Ron continued to stare transfixed for a minute, before spinning back to his desk, sweeping the contents of the table into his arms and sauntering deliberately to the front of the classroom, smiling to himself. He crossed in front of Malfoy, only to seat himself comfortably next to his enemy. His grin widened when he finally got the reaction he was hoping for. Malfoy stiffened minutely in his chair, nothing more, but it was a start.
Draco was hunched over an open textbook that lay on the desk at his elbow, only the tip of his nose was visible from Ron's position. Picking up the quill because he needed something to do with his hands, Ron tapped the end annoyingly against the tabletop repeatedly, waiting for Malfoy to snap and insult him.
An eternity of waiting later and still no response...
A smidgeon of dirt on Draco's robes drew Ron's attention. His brow furrowed as he leaned in towards the Slytherin brat. Ron was riveted to the dark stain that seemed so out of place on Malfoy's robes. Suddenly he realized what it was that drew him. It was blood and his eyes widened in shock at that fact.
"Malfoy, what happened to you?" Ron winced at the tone in his own voice; it suggested excessive concern for someone he loathed with a passion.
Malfoy's eyelids slipped closed and he murmured an incantation under his breath before another deep shudder ran down the length of his spine. Draco still refused to acknowledge Weasley's presence.
Ron reached out to touch Malfoy's arm, to shake him, but before he made contact Draco finally reacted, instantly reeling back out the Gryffindor's grasp. Ron recoiled at the sudden movement; his hand still hovered where the Slytherin had been sitting.
"Don't touch me..." Draco gasped, still declining to look at Weasley directly, but before Draco had a chance to turn his face away completely, Ron glimpsed at the extent of his injuries.
"Oh My God." the Gryffindor breathed, shrinking back, horrified. "Who did this to you?"
Draco wheezed in pain, as the memory of the beating he had received came roaring to the surface with Ron's words. Leaving his belongings, he hobbled quickly to the door and away from his ultimate humiliation. How dare one of Gryffindor's white knights express such concern for his well-being? Weasley had no entitlement to show him any such emotion, other than anger, or ask for any explanation in return.
Ron wasn't giving up that damn easy. He sprung away from the table and dashed around the other side, planting himself in the middle of the aisle and effectively prevented the blonde from leaving the classroom.
Far from being persuaded to stay, Malfoy flew into an irrational rage and charged the startled redhead, driving Ron back against the rough wood of the door. His breath rushed out him as the back of his head connected with solid oak.
"Bastard, why can't you let me be?" Malfoy was so close to him that his vision swam in front of his eyes. Weasley struggled to focus. "You're everywhere, when I only want to be left alone." Draco screamed, one hand fisting into Ron's tatty robes. Blood from his busted lip sprayed across Weasley's stunned face.
Ron was damned if he knew how to react to a terrified and crazed Malfoy. He held up his hands to protect himself from the arms that wildly slammed into him, pounding into him savagely as if blaming the redhead for every mark that had been placed on his body. Ron couldn't keep up with the blows, there was no pattern, and no symmetry, just pure hate filled adrenalin overriding everything. Draco had clearly gone insane and he had wandered right into his honey-coated trap.
Ron screamed with the frustration and exhaustion as he gave up fighting back and just attempted to cover his head and body from further assault. It was only as Draco began to waver in his resolve to kill him that Ron managed to gain some ground and struggle with the psychotic Slytherin. Not thinking, he swung his arm forward in a wide arc, connecting with the side of Draco's head and sending him stumbling backwards, stools crashing to the floor.
Immediately Ron felt nauseous, swallowing the sour taste of vomit in his mouth at the thought of what he'd done. His fist had torn through skin that had already seen another's mercy. Draco's flesh had been so lovingly tenderized that the mere recollection of what he'd executed had him bent over the side of the desk and ridding himself of his breakfast.
There had been no other way; Draco had been out of control and wasn't about to stop punishing him for pushing an answer out of him. He was loath to wish anymore pain on the Slytherin, but he'd dealt it just the same, hadn't he?
"I'm sorry, so very sorry." his voice shook and Ron had to force himself to look at those accusing eyes, knowing now he deserved his absolute hatred.
Ron pitifully tried to reach out a hand to help him up off the cold stone floor. Naturally, Draco only glared with equal quantities of disgust and fear at such an offer. Malfoy back-pedalled across the floor a safe distance from Weasley, the infernal redhead who had harmed him after pretending so sincerely to care.
Ron cried out in frustration, wiping his mouth savagely against the hem of his robe to rid himself of the bitter taste, still the bile of his betrayal remained. The hem of his robes slipped from his fingers as his hooded eyes connected with Malfoy's burning hatred. He dared to look at his accuser through a forest of strawberry blonde lashes. He couldn't help himself when the words came... he needed to know why.
"What in Merlin's name happened to you?" He pleaded with Draco who was flattening himself against the wall as he stupidly inched closer to the cornered pit-bull snarling at his feet. Ron realized, gradually that he was actually begging Malfoy to tell him, but he was far from caring.
"You need to get to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will..."
Hugging his knees to his chest, Malfoy vehemently shook his head. "Stay out of this Weasel. I have my reasons for not letting that interfering nurse touch me."
Ron sighed, leaning back against the table opposite Draco, his bent elbows resting on the surface. His arms ached from fending off the blonde only a minute ago, but he deserved so much more.
"That's ridiculous Malfoy. She's there to help. Oh don't tell me you like walking around like..." Ron stopped. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of that before? That was why he wasn't going to Madam Pomfrey.
"Oh, I see. Worried that other students might see that face of yours as less than perfection and we can't have that, can we? Must look immaculate at all times, Daddy's little clone. You vain prick. Suck up your pride Malfoy because..." why couldn't he just shut the hell up? Ron wanted to slap himself in the face. Again he was assaulting Draco. Why did the blonde drag out of him all his base instincts?
"Because what?" Draco snorted. "Because I care how others see me, because you can't wait to tell those friends of yours? Going to have a nice ol' chuckle on how that Slytherin brat got just what he deserved." Draco managed to push himself onto his own two feet, damned if he'd have a Weasley standing over him. Yes, he bloody well had his pride still and no gangly, freckle-nosed, ginger-headed Gryffindor sidekick was ever going to get the better of him.
"Yeah, I'm here to see the head of Slytherin, because if anyone can help me it's Professor Snape. He isn't eternally nosey and he doesn't solicit answers to what doesn't concern him." Sneering at Ron, his chin held high despite a myriad of purplish bruises that encompassed his entire face.
Ron for once ignored his remarks. "What about your wand? Surely..."
"No" Draco barked. "I was hexed so that simply flapping a wand about would have no effect on my... injuries. The bastard was nothing but thorough...another reason why I need a potion master."
"Who...?"
"Don't bother Weasley" he interrupted, slamming his hand down on the table for emphasis and regretting it instantly. "You're wasting your time asking."
Ron rocked on the balls of his feet, he'd just about come to Draco's rescue as he watched the intense pain flicker across his face...he caught himself just in time.
"Stubborn git!" Ron muttered under his breath.
Draco clutched his throbbing hand to his chest and dared to smirk back at the redhead. "That's right Weasley, Iam obstinate. I believe it's a trait you and I share." He sneered at the redhead. "The only thing we share." He intoned. Suddenly he leaned forward as if to impart some dark secret. "Must eat you up, not knowing?" he whispered mockingly.
"You like goading me into an argument?"
"Do I?"
"You have to tell someone, why not me?"
"Why not indeed? Such an attractive offer" He deadpanned back at the redhead for even thinking that he'd tell him anything.
"Come on, who better to tell. You hate the idea of anyone pitying you and you know I won't slobber all over you like the Slytherins will. Obviously you need to get it off your chest?"
"Really? How presumptuous of you. You must know me so well Weasley?" Draco was astounded; he never realized that Weasley was this pathetic. As if he'd tell Ron or any other person in this school a damned thing about anything in his life.
Ron ignored that trademark smirk and the cynicism that came as a skilfully bound package.
"You desperately need to tell me."
Draco scoffed at that. Okay, that was taking it a little too far. "Not you Weasel. No matter the circumstance, it would never be you that I'd come too."
Ron flinched despite himself. Those words were drenched in ice and spat nastily at him. He meant every single word.
It gave him little pleasure to insult Weasley. Once, it would have been the embodiment of all things magnificent in this world, to slight a Gryffindor, trod, squish all those gorgeously descriptive words...especially to one of the dastardly trio. Now it was different.
One long lazy afternoon during the summer holidays, a devastating talk with his mother in the downstairs parlour and his whole world had reversed over the top of him. Draco wanted nothing more than to be elsewhere. He simply didn't care and he wanted no involvement in any of it, anymore.
Blood dripped onto Ron's sleeve, soaking into the dark material. Reaching a hand up to rub absently at his nose, his fingers came away smeared in the bright red liquid.
Ron was ignoring him, just as he had done to the redhead. This was incredibly childish on Weasley's behalf, however it was working and Draco found himself even more peeved with the Gryffindor.
"Oh, for Salazar's sake, you are gawking at your own blood like you've never seen the like of it before." Ron was busy painting his fingers with his own blood, not in the least bit aware that he was seriously annoying Malfoy. "You're the ever faithful companion, always tagging blindly along behind whatever foolish escapade 'golden-boy' sticks his ruddy nose into. With that, I would have expected Pomfrey to have your blood on tap to use at a moments notice."
Ron should have growled, but the image Draco's words created was far too comical for him to be angry with. He grinned, admiring the intricate pattern he had completed over his right hand. Holding it up to his face, Ron gazed unblinkingly, fascinated with his blood that seemed to glisten with iridescence when he wiggled his fingers experimentally.
Delighted and giddy with unforeseen pleasure, Ron drifted to the front of the classroom to collect his school supplies, awkwardly cramming them into his shoulder bag.
The blonde couldn't quite believe that after all this drama, Weasley was actually leaving him or that's what it appeared the redhead was about to do. Draco followed the Gryffindor up the same path, stopping a short distance behind him.
"What are you doing Weasley?" he demanded. His mouth slightly gaping at Ron who was using his left elbow to hold the bag open, while he fed the books in under his left hand.
Draco shook his head incredulously. What was he doing? Had Weasley finally gone nuts? Malfoy glanced at the sink that was no more than an arms breadth away, his eyes widening in alarm. He slowly backed up, his breath erratic, but before he could turn and run like hell, Ron had swung around and latched his left hand onto Draco's arm.
Malfoy immediately struggled in his abject terror, striking out blindly with his feet, his hands trying desperately to prize the iron like grip from around his arm. Weasley wasn't even trying to defend himself. He was deadly still, his eyes fixed steadily on his prey.
Draco refused to look into Weasley's eyes, afraid of what he might see there. "No, no, no. Please not you too." He chanted under his breath.
In a flash Weasley released him only to snake his left arm around Draco's waist, tugging him till the blonde was flush with Ron's body.
He couldn't help the scream that forced its way out of his throat. Draco thrashed in a futile attempt to free himself. His dilated pupils locked on the hand that hovered inches from his face, it shimmered with unspeakable power.
Draco was frozen in place as Ron brought both of his hands up to gently cup Malfoy's bruised face.
He couldn't move as the warmth from his touch seeped into his skin. Draco closed his eyes as Weasley breathed over his lips. He wished he could project his mind anywhere but here. This is almost exactly what happened last time, he knew what came next, the pain, the searing pain that sliced deep into his flesh and left him howling in agony.
Ron brought his mouth to Draco's forehead; he blew gently at the errant strays of blonde hair that lay there. They scattered back into place as Ron pressed his lips to Draco's warm skin.
Draco's eyes flew open as his skin tingled pleasantly where Weasley was kissing him. He gasped against Ron's throat. Tendrils of smoke circled around them, Draco was on fire from the inside as nerve endings sizzled, radiating over his face and down his spine.
He jerked spasmodically in Weasley's arms as his wounds began to heal. Throwing his head back as his eyes rolled back in his head. Draco continued to shudder as the last of his injuries sealed over, bruises vanishing, scars blending into his new skin as if nothing had ever happened to him. Once more Malfoy's skin gleamed palely in the dungeon's tawny light.
They still clung to each other, Draco staring unbelievingly into Ron's blood red eyes as a fiery sphere burst through the Potions lab's main doors, colliding with them on its way to the blackboard.
Ron and Draco were thrown apart, landing at either sides of the room. Immediately, the fireball exploded against the blackboard in a shower of sparks, leaving behind a message that glowed ominously in the subdued light.
"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy. You are late for my class and if you had been paying the least bit of attention the last time you were both bickering like first years, you would know that I asked that this lesson be held in the Quidditch field. Ten points from both your houses and further ten points will be deducted from Gryffindor if Mr. Malfoy comes to class with even a scratch. Do you understand me Mr. Weasley?"
Draco had to laugh at that, the professor had no idea.
Ron was nodding his head as if the dreaded potion master was in the very room.
Draco gazed curiously at Weasley, whose eyes had turned back to their original shade of deep blue.
Ron rubbed at his eyelids, they itched like crazy. He glared accusingly at Draco who appeared to be very pleased with himself.
"How the hell did I get way over here?" Ron retorted. "I feel like I was run over by one of those darn carts in the vaults of Gringotts." He growled, rubbing a hand over his throbbing butt.
Draco was almost tempted to add a snide remark like 'how the hell a Weasley would know anything about the wizarding bank' but he bit his tongue knowing somehow the redhead had healed him and he should be thankful.
"Your face." Ron blurted out. "How?"
Draco grinned. "Magic." he answered.
"Huh?" Ron frowned, wiping traces of blood from his right hand onto his jeans.
............................................................................ ....................................................................
Chapter Thirteen
Ron paced the hallways, going wherever the stairs led him, further into the bowels of the ancient castle, and strangely enough, towards the dungeons. He had no planned destination, just a desire to keep moving, not to let his anger get the better of him. Before he could snap out of his black mood, he found himself outside Professor Snape's classroom, his hand already curled around the door handle.
Blinking at the heavy wooden door before him, Ron was confused as to how he'd managed to end up here of all places and at least twenty minutes before the start of class to boot! Ron didn't like to be in Professor Snape's presence at the best of times, let alone be early to one of his classes.
So, how did he end up here? He really had to pay more attention when he was forced into one of his infamous brooding sessions. Taking his hand back from the rough iron knob, as if a mere touch would burn him, he quickly turned and made his way back up the stairs.
He barely tolerated the man most of the time and for that very reason would never incite a confrontation with the potion master, especially since expulsion would clearly be the result with the mood he was in.
Ron was about three-quarters of the way up the first flight of stairs when he heard someone coming down them, not far above him and moving incredibly fast.
'Blast' Ron panicked. Last thing he needed was to be caught loitering in the dungeon, particularly if it was who he thought it was.
Without an escape route he had only one course of action, back down and into the classroom. Taking the stairs three at a time, he reached the door, pulled it open and slipped inside.
He immediately noticed Malfoy seated in the front row on the Slytherin side of the room. Ron paused, instantly forgetting that there had been someone closing in behind him.
So this is where the dirty scoundrel had gotten too. He was avoiding eating breakfast altogether now so he could spend more time sucking up to his master. How sweet.
Ron got curious as he moved down the centre aisle; he hesitated at his usual desk but kept moving when he decided messing with Malfoy might be more fun.
Seating himself directly opposite the blonde, he made a show out of emptying his books, quills and etcetera, onto the desk. He was rather disappointed when Malfoy didn't even turn to sneer at him. Five minutes and there had been not a single slur uttered his way, all was definitely not right with the world.
Where was the Professor in all this? Ron had expected to see him rush into the room behind him. He'd have sworn it was Snape's footsteps, but if so, where was he? The stairs led nowhere else; even if it hadn't been the professor it had to be someone, right?
Ron turned around in his seat and stared at the door, almost wishing Snape would come through it. Narrowing his eyes at the door, he growled. What in the hell was going on? He caught movement beside him and switched to glaring at Malfoy instead.
"What's wrong with you?" he seethed, his fingers wrapping around the end of his wand that lay across his lap, concealed in the folds of his robes.
No response to his question, not a look or a carefully thrown insult, nothing.
Ron swung his eyes around to the front and threw hateful glances at the defenceless blackboard. His fingers tightening around the wand till he heard a solid crack, immediately he let go, goddamn it!
Why was it that Malfoy could summon his darkest thoughts with only his mere presence in the same room? The unmitigated bastard didn't even have to open that acidic mouth of his, to have that same effect that he always did. Ron had broken yet another wand, won't mum be pleased.
Ron closed his eyes for a moment, pulling in the fragments of his anger, tugging them in close to him so as not to unleash it on that worthless blonde, no matter how much he was tempted.
The unending, ceaseless hush that followed was hell on earth. It infused every particle.
He could stand it no longer. Ron jumped out of his chair, shoving the two useless halves of his wand into his pocket, he stood in the aisle facing Malfoy, glaring down at the bane of his existence and daring him not to react.
Unfortunately that's exactly what Draco did; he took that silent challenge and effectively blocked Ron from his mind.
Ron continued to stare transfixed for a minute, before spinning back to his desk, sweeping the contents of the table into his arms and sauntering deliberately to the front of the classroom, smiling to himself. He crossed in front of Malfoy, only to seat himself comfortably next to his enemy. His grin widened when he finally got the reaction he was hoping for. Malfoy stiffened minutely in his chair, nothing more, but it was a start.
Draco was hunched over an open textbook that lay on the desk at his elbow, only the tip of his nose was visible from Ron's position. Picking up the quill because he needed something to do with his hands, Ron tapped the end annoyingly against the tabletop repeatedly, waiting for Malfoy to snap and insult him.
An eternity of waiting later and still no response...
A smidgeon of dirt on Draco's robes drew Ron's attention. His brow furrowed as he leaned in towards the Slytherin brat. Ron was riveted to the dark stain that seemed so out of place on Malfoy's robes. Suddenly he realized what it was that drew him. It was blood and his eyes widened in shock at that fact.
"Malfoy, what happened to you?" Ron winced at the tone in his own voice; it suggested excessive concern for someone he loathed with a passion.
Malfoy's eyelids slipped closed and he murmured an incantation under his breath before another deep shudder ran down the length of his spine. Draco still refused to acknowledge Weasley's presence.
Ron reached out to touch Malfoy's arm, to shake him, but before he made contact Draco finally reacted, instantly reeling back out the Gryffindor's grasp. Ron recoiled at the sudden movement; his hand still hovered where the Slytherin had been sitting.
"Don't touch me..." Draco gasped, still declining to look at Weasley directly, but before Draco had a chance to turn his face away completely, Ron glimpsed at the extent of his injuries.
"Oh My God." the Gryffindor breathed, shrinking back, horrified. "Who did this to you?"
Draco wheezed in pain, as the memory of the beating he had received came roaring to the surface with Ron's words. Leaving his belongings, he hobbled quickly to the door and away from his ultimate humiliation. How dare one of Gryffindor's white knights express such concern for his well-being? Weasley had no entitlement to show him any such emotion, other than anger, or ask for any explanation in return.
Ron wasn't giving up that damn easy. He sprung away from the table and dashed around the other side, planting himself in the middle of the aisle and effectively prevented the blonde from leaving the classroom.
Far from being persuaded to stay, Malfoy flew into an irrational rage and charged the startled redhead, driving Ron back against the rough wood of the door. His breath rushed out him as the back of his head connected with solid oak.
"Bastard, why can't you let me be?" Malfoy was so close to him that his vision swam in front of his eyes. Weasley struggled to focus. "You're everywhere, when I only want to be left alone." Draco screamed, one hand fisting into Ron's tatty robes. Blood from his busted lip sprayed across Weasley's stunned face.
Ron was damned if he knew how to react to a terrified and crazed Malfoy. He held up his hands to protect himself from the arms that wildly slammed into him, pounding into him savagely as if blaming the redhead for every mark that had been placed on his body. Ron couldn't keep up with the blows, there was no pattern, and no symmetry, just pure hate filled adrenalin overriding everything. Draco had clearly gone insane and he had wandered right into his honey-coated trap.
Ron screamed with the frustration and exhaustion as he gave up fighting back and just attempted to cover his head and body from further assault. It was only as Draco began to waver in his resolve to kill him that Ron managed to gain some ground and struggle with the psychotic Slytherin. Not thinking, he swung his arm forward in a wide arc, connecting with the side of Draco's head and sending him stumbling backwards, stools crashing to the floor.
Immediately Ron felt nauseous, swallowing the sour taste of vomit in his mouth at the thought of what he'd done. His fist had torn through skin that had already seen another's mercy. Draco's flesh had been so lovingly tenderized that the mere recollection of what he'd executed had him bent over the side of the desk and ridding himself of his breakfast.
There had been no other way; Draco had been out of control and wasn't about to stop punishing him for pushing an answer out of him. He was loath to wish anymore pain on the Slytherin, but he'd dealt it just the same, hadn't he?
"I'm sorry, so very sorry." his voice shook and Ron had to force himself to look at those accusing eyes, knowing now he deserved his absolute hatred.
Ron pitifully tried to reach out a hand to help him up off the cold stone floor. Naturally, Draco only glared with equal quantities of disgust and fear at such an offer. Malfoy back-pedalled across the floor a safe distance from Weasley, the infernal redhead who had harmed him after pretending so sincerely to care.
Ron cried out in frustration, wiping his mouth savagely against the hem of his robe to rid himself of the bitter taste, still the bile of his betrayal remained. The hem of his robes slipped from his fingers as his hooded eyes connected with Malfoy's burning hatred. He dared to look at his accuser through a forest of strawberry blonde lashes. He couldn't help himself when the words came... he needed to know why.
"What in Merlin's name happened to you?" He pleaded with Draco who was flattening himself against the wall as he stupidly inched closer to the cornered pit-bull snarling at his feet. Ron realized, gradually that he was actually begging Malfoy to tell him, but he was far from caring.
"You need to get to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will..."
Hugging his knees to his chest, Malfoy vehemently shook his head. "Stay out of this Weasel. I have my reasons for not letting that interfering nurse touch me."
Ron sighed, leaning back against the table opposite Draco, his bent elbows resting on the surface. His arms ached from fending off the blonde only a minute ago, but he deserved so much more.
"That's ridiculous Malfoy. She's there to help. Oh don't tell me you like walking around like..." Ron stopped. Of course! Why hadn't he thought of that before? That was why he wasn't going to Madam Pomfrey.
"Oh, I see. Worried that other students might see that face of yours as less than perfection and we can't have that, can we? Must look immaculate at all times, Daddy's little clone. You vain prick. Suck up your pride Malfoy because..." why couldn't he just shut the hell up? Ron wanted to slap himself in the face. Again he was assaulting Draco. Why did the blonde drag out of him all his base instincts?
"Because what?" Draco snorted. "Because I care how others see me, because you can't wait to tell those friends of yours? Going to have a nice ol' chuckle on how that Slytherin brat got just what he deserved." Draco managed to push himself onto his own two feet, damned if he'd have a Weasley standing over him. Yes, he bloody well had his pride still and no gangly, freckle-nosed, ginger-headed Gryffindor sidekick was ever going to get the better of him.
"Yeah, I'm here to see the head of Slytherin, because if anyone can help me it's Professor Snape. He isn't eternally nosey and he doesn't solicit answers to what doesn't concern him." Sneering at Ron, his chin held high despite a myriad of purplish bruises that encompassed his entire face.
Ron for once ignored his remarks. "What about your wand? Surely..."
"No" Draco barked. "I was hexed so that simply flapping a wand about would have no effect on my... injuries. The bastard was nothing but thorough...another reason why I need a potion master."
"Who...?"
"Don't bother Weasley" he interrupted, slamming his hand down on the table for emphasis and regretting it instantly. "You're wasting your time asking."
Ron rocked on the balls of his feet, he'd just about come to Draco's rescue as he watched the intense pain flicker across his face...he caught himself just in time.
"Stubborn git!" Ron muttered under his breath.
Draco clutched his throbbing hand to his chest and dared to smirk back at the redhead. "That's right Weasley, Iam obstinate. I believe it's a trait you and I share." He sneered at the redhead. "The only thing we share." He intoned. Suddenly he leaned forward as if to impart some dark secret. "Must eat you up, not knowing?" he whispered mockingly.
"You like goading me into an argument?"
"Do I?"
"You have to tell someone, why not me?"
"Why not indeed? Such an attractive offer" He deadpanned back at the redhead for even thinking that he'd tell him anything.
"Come on, who better to tell. You hate the idea of anyone pitying you and you know I won't slobber all over you like the Slytherins will. Obviously you need to get it off your chest?"
"Really? How presumptuous of you. You must know me so well Weasley?" Draco was astounded; he never realized that Weasley was this pathetic. As if he'd tell Ron or any other person in this school a damned thing about anything in his life.
Ron ignored that trademark smirk and the cynicism that came as a skilfully bound package.
"You desperately need to tell me."
Draco scoffed at that. Okay, that was taking it a little too far. "Not you Weasel. No matter the circumstance, it would never be you that I'd come too."
Ron flinched despite himself. Those words were drenched in ice and spat nastily at him. He meant every single word.
It gave him little pleasure to insult Weasley. Once, it would have been the embodiment of all things magnificent in this world, to slight a Gryffindor, trod, squish all those gorgeously descriptive words...especially to one of the dastardly trio. Now it was different.
One long lazy afternoon during the summer holidays, a devastating talk with his mother in the downstairs parlour and his whole world had reversed over the top of him. Draco wanted nothing more than to be elsewhere. He simply didn't care and he wanted no involvement in any of it, anymore.
Blood dripped onto Ron's sleeve, soaking into the dark material. Reaching a hand up to rub absently at his nose, his fingers came away smeared in the bright red liquid.
Ron was ignoring him, just as he had done to the redhead. This was incredibly childish on Weasley's behalf, however it was working and Draco found himself even more peeved with the Gryffindor.
"Oh, for Salazar's sake, you are gawking at your own blood like you've never seen the like of it before." Ron was busy painting his fingers with his own blood, not in the least bit aware that he was seriously annoying Malfoy. "You're the ever faithful companion, always tagging blindly along behind whatever foolish escapade 'golden-boy' sticks his ruddy nose into. With that, I would have expected Pomfrey to have your blood on tap to use at a moments notice."
Ron should have growled, but the image Draco's words created was far too comical for him to be angry with. He grinned, admiring the intricate pattern he had completed over his right hand. Holding it up to his face, Ron gazed unblinkingly, fascinated with his blood that seemed to glisten with iridescence when he wiggled his fingers experimentally.
Delighted and giddy with unforeseen pleasure, Ron drifted to the front of the classroom to collect his school supplies, awkwardly cramming them into his shoulder bag.
The blonde couldn't quite believe that after all this drama, Weasley was actually leaving him or that's what it appeared the redhead was about to do. Draco followed the Gryffindor up the same path, stopping a short distance behind him.
"What are you doing Weasley?" he demanded. His mouth slightly gaping at Ron who was using his left elbow to hold the bag open, while he fed the books in under his left hand.
Draco shook his head incredulously. What was he doing? Had Weasley finally gone nuts? Malfoy glanced at the sink that was no more than an arms breadth away, his eyes widening in alarm. He slowly backed up, his breath erratic, but before he could turn and run like hell, Ron had swung around and latched his left hand onto Draco's arm.
Malfoy immediately struggled in his abject terror, striking out blindly with his feet, his hands trying desperately to prize the iron like grip from around his arm. Weasley wasn't even trying to defend himself. He was deadly still, his eyes fixed steadily on his prey.
Draco refused to look into Weasley's eyes, afraid of what he might see there. "No, no, no. Please not you too." He chanted under his breath.
In a flash Weasley released him only to snake his left arm around Draco's waist, tugging him till the blonde was flush with Ron's body.
He couldn't help the scream that forced its way out of his throat. Draco thrashed in a futile attempt to free himself. His dilated pupils locked on the hand that hovered inches from his face, it shimmered with unspeakable power.
Draco was frozen in place as Ron brought both of his hands up to gently cup Malfoy's bruised face.
He couldn't move as the warmth from his touch seeped into his skin. Draco closed his eyes as Weasley breathed over his lips. He wished he could project his mind anywhere but here. This is almost exactly what happened last time, he knew what came next, the pain, the searing pain that sliced deep into his flesh and left him howling in agony.
Ron brought his mouth to Draco's forehead; he blew gently at the errant strays of blonde hair that lay there. They scattered back into place as Ron pressed his lips to Draco's warm skin.
Draco's eyes flew open as his skin tingled pleasantly where Weasley was kissing him. He gasped against Ron's throat. Tendrils of smoke circled around them, Draco was on fire from the inside as nerve endings sizzled, radiating over his face and down his spine.
He jerked spasmodically in Weasley's arms as his wounds began to heal. Throwing his head back as his eyes rolled back in his head. Draco continued to shudder as the last of his injuries sealed over, bruises vanishing, scars blending into his new skin as if nothing had ever happened to him. Once more Malfoy's skin gleamed palely in the dungeon's tawny light.
They still clung to each other, Draco staring unbelievingly into Ron's blood red eyes as a fiery sphere burst through the Potions lab's main doors, colliding with them on its way to the blackboard.
Ron and Draco were thrown apart, landing at either sides of the room. Immediately, the fireball exploded against the blackboard in a shower of sparks, leaving behind a message that glowed ominously in the subdued light.
"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy. You are late for my class and if you had been paying the least bit of attention the last time you were both bickering like first years, you would know that I asked that this lesson be held in the Quidditch field. Ten points from both your houses and further ten points will be deducted from Gryffindor if Mr. Malfoy comes to class with even a scratch. Do you understand me Mr. Weasley?"
Draco had to laugh at that, the professor had no idea.
Ron was nodding his head as if the dreaded potion master was in the very room.
Draco gazed curiously at Weasley, whose eyes had turned back to their original shade of deep blue.
Ron rubbed at his eyelids, they itched like crazy. He glared accusingly at Draco who appeared to be very pleased with himself.
"How the hell did I get way over here?" Ron retorted. "I feel like I was run over by one of those darn carts in the vaults of Gringotts." He growled, rubbing a hand over his throbbing butt.
Draco was almost tempted to add a snide remark like 'how the hell a Weasley would know anything about the wizarding bank' but he bit his tongue knowing somehow the redhead had healed him and he should be thankful.
"Your face." Ron blurted out. "How?"
Draco grinned. "Magic." he answered.
"Huh?" Ron frowned, wiping traces of blood from his right hand onto his jeans.
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