Hi everyone, thank you all, again, for reviewing.

Cosmoz- I'm happy you like the story, I'm definitely having a blast writing it. Thanks for your comments...on reviews. Well I'm glad I'm getting a few but I'd never say no to more LOL

On with the show...

Part Fourteen

As Malfoy matched his steps with that of Weasley's, he found himself thinking about the annoying redhead and how he had mended his wounds, had kissed him. It was that kiss that preoccupied his thoughts and it wasn't like it had been anything to owl home about; like he ever would. He could imagine the look on his father's face at that little tidbit. Not that the kiss had been anything other than innocent in nature, Draco could think of nothing else since those warm lips had pressed against his forehead. Weasley had healed him with that simple caress and he couldn't even taunt Weasley with that bit of embarrassing information because the darn Gryffindor had no memory of any of it. Nothing! Nada! What was going on with him?

Draco could almost believe that he'd dreamt up the whole mess as he glanced at his flawless complexion in one of the windows as they passed the Great Hall on their way outside. He watched detached as the mirror image distorted to that of panic. Immediately, his reflection in the glass appeared to ice over, freezing that hollow expression indefinitely. Draco blinked back tears and wrenched himself away from the apparition, only too aware of the agony he had endured not long ago.

Not only was there no scar to herald what had happened to him, but the words that had been crudely carved into Draco's chest and back had also vanished along with the bruises. Words he himself had nastily spat at others had mockingly been cut into his own flesh, branding him with their cruel irony.

The physical pain may have been banished, but the memory remained intact. Draco remembered the much-hated tears that had stung as much as the knife sliding with practiced ease into his flesh. Each letter had been punctuated by his cries of help... torturous screams that had never been answered as his room had been blanketed in a Imperturbable charm.

Draco once again chanced a sideways glimpse at Weasley. His face was partially hidden from view behind a veil of waxen hair that fell to his shoulders, a blinding wave of defiance. Weasley coughed and pretended he didn't notice the Slytherin's attentions.

Ron threw the main doors open and held them for Draco to exit first. The blonde lifted his chin minutely as he passed by the Gryffindor, confused by the gesture and angry with himself for being so taken by the redhead's chivalry.

Once outside, they both hesitated before making their way across the perfectly manicured lawn on their way to the dreaded Quidditch pitch.

Now, for the first time, he wondered if Weasley was lying to him. Was the redhead in denial or did he simply not remember? Draco was leaning toward the later. It wasn't like Weasley was some great intellect when it came to spell casting or anything useful as a matter of course. No, he believed Weasley again had been a convenient pawn in the game Malfoy was still waiting to be formally invited to.

Ron could feel those eyes on him and he held the shudder that fixed gaze induced. He refused to be pulled into Malfoy's amusing little diversion. He was immensely wary of the blonde's presence beside him and no matter how much he had tried to shake the bastard, he just couldn't. Every time he sped up, he was there, a blonde sheet of hair swinging into his peripheral vision like the first sign of the apocalypse.

He should have told Malfoy to bugger off but he hadn't as of yet. In his own defence it wasn't like the Slytherin was really bothering him, other than continually staring at him with an extremely puzzled expression that is. No, Ron just didn't want any further confrontations with the blonde git. Not today.

Again something weird had happened in which he'd lost a portion of his memory. The last time this happened he'd tried to kill his best friend; this time Ron had helped his enemy and both occasions disturbingly involved Malfoy. What were the implications of that exactly and who's sick, twisted game were they playing?

Malfoy hadn't exactly told him that he'd healed him, but Ron took one look at the blonde and just knew. Ron had regained consciousness, a second before he was hurled across the other side of the room. Before that he remembered his arms had been wound around Malfoy and the look in the Slytherins eyes had been positively sinful. Oh god. He so did not want to know anymore. Even that had been too much information.

So they walked in companionable silence into the Quidditch arena, neither wanting to break the spell and have to talk about what had happened.

They parted ways as both of them neared the makeshift classroom. Worktables and stools had been conjured as an almost duplicate of the ones in the Potions lab except for one glaring difference; instead of the eternal dreariness of the dungeons, they had fresh air, blue skies and grass under their feet.

Ron could almost believe that the improved surroundings made up for having to face one Severus Snape. Well... almost. He quickly took a seat at the same table as Harry and Seamus. It had become too darn quiet to be a good thing and he knew that the Professor was about to take another zillion points off Gryffindor and lecture him on tardiness. Although Malfoy had also been absent, he would be of course the one who took the blame for both of them.

As a result, he fudged for as long as humanly possible, silently removing his notes, quills and other such necessary equipment, stalling pathetically while everyone looked on in perverse anticipation of the inevitable. The Slytherins were most certainly sneering at him openly, while his fellow Gryffindor's were probably cringing in sympathy at the mere thought of what their vile Potions master was going to do to him.

Ron, in the end, knew he had no choice but to look up and face his punishment with some modicum of decorum and still keep his dignity, funny thing is, neither were exactly Weasley traits.

Draco, for once, wasn't gleefully holding his breath waiting for Snape to verbally attack the redhead. Instead he was siding with The Gryffindor's 'heaven forbid'. Well, on the inside at least. In all outward appearances Draco Malfoy was the son of a bitch he had always been and would always be.

Snape smirked nastily as Ron finally gave up the pretence and looked up to see what all the fuss was. "Ahh...Mister Weasley! You have finally joined us I see."

Ron gulped; this was not going to be good at all.

"I dearly hope that this lesson is not eroding into your precious social calendar." Snape offered with just the merest hint of sarcasm. "Your potions talent is nonexistent; your conduct appalling; but why should you fret? Why you could always begin your career in professional Quidditch now, saving me the inconvenience of failing you in this class."

Before Draco even really thought about just what he was initiating, he was doing just that. Standing up in front of everyone and saving Weasley from further embarrassment, plus detention of course. The only excuse Draco could contemplate was that he had clearly gone insane, but the mentally ill didn't usually out themselves as being just that, did they? So... maybe he was just having some type of lapse into stupidity, the same descent into idiocy that was occurring with alarming frequency since his mother had rocked his world- so to speak.

"Professor, I need to speak to you. It's important?" Draco butted in just as Snape was getting warmed up. Oh how he enjoyed bringing those Gryffindor brats down a notch or three. As a result of being spoiled of one of his few pleasures and by one of his own house, by Draco, well, he was momentarily stunned into silence before succumbing to his favourite students wishes. The slightly pleading look in the young Malfoy's eyes had been his undoing. Yet, he was still peeved that the boy had interrupted him in mid-rant.

"Very well Mr. Malfoy, if it cannot wait," and with no further acknowledgement he marched across the field, away from his students who all were buzzing with what the Slytherin had done. Malfoy quickly got out of his chair to pursue his teacher, although he'd have rather just burrowed into the dirt under his feet and stayed there. He cursed his need not to be indebted to a Weasley, but the way he'd done it was going to have mouths flapping for weeks with what had possibly gone on between them.

Ron had watched the entire exchange with somewhat awe at being rescued, eleventh hour like, and by a Malfoy of all people. Harry was bristling in the seat to his right, while Seamus just grinned at him knowingly, before whispering, "Whatever did you and Malfoy get up too in the dungeons? I was impressed when you arrived and neither of you had killed the other, but this...well I'm speechless."

Harry growled dangerously at the Irishman, while Seamus just threw up his hands in mock surrender. Still, he couldn't keep the grin off his face. Ron didn't even have a comeback he was too busy blushing, furious that Malfoy had put him in this situation.

Professor Snape whirled around to face the blonde Slytherin once he'd stepped onto the nearest tower, which just happened to be Hufflepuff.

"Tell me then Malfoy. What were you doing in the dungeons with Weasley when I told the entire class that our next lesson would be here on the Quidditch pitch? Have you been fighting on my time, in my classroom?"

"I forgot." Draco murmured. "Something happened..."

"What do you mean you forgot? I expect this from Mr. Weasley, but not from you Draco. How would you explain this to your father if he by chance found out? This is Slytherin; your peers would only be too willing to sell you out for some measly favour. We live by the code...survival by any means necessary, friendships be damned. You know this yet you have started a relationship with a Weasley of all wizards? What has come over you? Have you no shame?"

"I was raped." croaked Draco, his eyes slipping closed at the confession. Immediately, he apologized, head bent in submission. "Sorry, I'm so sorry." He whispered, truly ashamed of his behaviour. Draco had finally revealed the truth to someone at least, a person he trusted, but also he'd opened up to himself. Before this moment, he'd obliterated it from his mind, wanting only to concentrate on the beating. There had been nothing else to tell in his view until it was pulled out of him unexpectedly.

"I'll kill him." Snape howled in part fury, part grief, tearing back towards his students, kicking up clumps of dirt and grass with his boots in his wake. Black fathomless hatred had transformed his features and as those timeworn fingers closed firmly around his wand. He could only think of the sweet agony of torture and death to whom had touched the son of Lucius Malfoy.

"Professor?" Draco opened his eyes, blinking to clear his mind, only to observe as if in slow motion, Professor Snape bolting across the Quidditch pitch towards his class, wand held outstretched before him. Draco's throat actually closed over as the Professors last words echoed in his head and their meaning at last became chillingly clear. Oh god no.

Draco screamed, in turn alerting the other sixth year Gryffindor's and Slytherin's as to what was going on. Their professor was bearing down on them at tremendous speed and Draco Malfoy was pelting across the field after him. No one knew if they were meant to laugh at the bizarre sight or get the hell out of there.

Ron flinched as the Professor got closer, realizing that the murderess look in his teacher's eyes was aimed directly at him. It was too late to do anything other than snatch his own wand off the table as the first spell hit Ron square in the chest, sending him crashing into an equally flustered Seamus before having an intimate encounter with the floor.

"Expelliarmus!"

His wand, invisibly wrenched from his grasp. It was only when Ron started to push himself up did he notice that it was now in Snape's possession. The man himself stood over him menacingly and Ron had never been more terrified in his exceptionally short life. He had no idea why or what Malfoy had told him, but one thing he did know unequivocally- his Potions teacher was about to kill him.

Snape's wand never wavered from its target as cold eyes drilled ruthlessly into his. Ron knew he had no opportunity of making a run for it and no means to defend himself. He was so petrified of what was to come and why that when at last the professor made his move, Ron knew only to well the curse upon his teachers lips before the man had even finished casting it.

"Crucio!" Snape pronounced with deliberate care as to cause the most suffering.

"No, no, no!" Draco screamed, too late to stop the curse from hitting its intended victim. "Not Weasley, it wasn't him." He breathed, horrified at what he saw.

Except Ron wasn't hit with the curse at the last second. It was intercepted by Neville Longbottom who had dived from his chair into Ron Weasley's lap. There was definitely a reason the boy had been sorted into Gryffindor.

Ron was frozen in shock, eyes impossibly wide as he watched Neville twitch and moan in excruciating pain. Harry disgusted with his inability to prevent what had happened, sunk to the ground alongside his best friend and began to shake him. Ron ignored him, clutching Neville to him in desperation.

"Ron, Ron you have to let him go." Harry whimpered, feeling the terror rolling off both his friends.

"Oh god Harry, do something..., please?" Weasley begged, his eyes fixed on Harry because he always knew what to do.

Harry shook his head in despair. "I don't know how." He mouthed at Ron before glaring up at Professor Snape.

The professor just stood there, gaping at the scene as if he wasn't responsible for this unpleasant incident.

"Severus?" Draco hissed in his teacher's ear. Professor Snape turned to the boy and ultimately snapped back to the present.

"Finite Incantatum." Snape bellowed, horrified that he'd used an Unforgivable on anyone, least of all an innocent student.

Neville collapsed into Ron's arms, curling himself protectively around his friend's body. Snape shakily dropped both his and Weasley's wand onto the grass, dismissing the class in the process in an awful hollow voice. Most of the students scattered back to the main building not wanting to be caught in any crossfire between 'the boy who lived' and their Potions master.

Ron soothed the shudders that cascaded down his friend's spine and eventually Neville's laboured breathing slowly returned to normal. Gently he passed the exhausted boy to Harry to comfort for awhile.

Standing up, Ron turned on his teacher. "How dare you." He hissed. "What is wrong with you? I should have known that a Slytherin like yourself would eventually slip up and your true nature would be revealed. You're a member of the order, you may have deceived Dumbledore but you never fooled me and now you are going to pay." He screeched, instantly recognizing his mistake in front of Malfoy but not caring, he deserved to be punished by his kind for his betrayal. Only a Death Eater would know the perfect torment to fit the crime.

Snatching his own wand up off the ground, he kicked at the professor's, so wanting to hear that justified snap of wood under the heel of his boot.

Severus flinched and made a move to retrieve his wand before it was destroyed, but Ron lunged at him, furious. Back-handing his teacher across the face, Snape reeled backwards at the assault. Ron screamed murderously, jabbing his wand into his teacher's chest threateningly.

"Ron, don't do it. He's not worth going to Azkaban for." Harry pleaded, hoping he was getting through to his friend.

Ron gritted his teeth, his hand shaking violently as he pointed the wand at Snape. At least his teacher had the good sense to look scared. Although Ron knew he didn't have the means to summon anything that would truly end the life of the man before him, he could still reek a bloody painful revenge if he so wished it. No, in the end it was just the wand in his hand that gave him stability and that was enough to quell the rest.

A moment later Ron felt a warm breath on the back of his neck and when a pale hand curled around his on the wand, he easily relinquished his weapon to Draco, swiftly moving away from his forbidden touch.

Harry gently rocked the semi-conscious Neville in his arms, but inside his heart was breaking.