Author's Note: Not much to say except finally got a review and decided to upload the next chapter as soon as I found my floppy disk. It is found.
chapter 34: VEXATION - smothered by care and anger
Ron looked up from his food to see Harry staring at him intently. Ron hastily looked away, shoving a spinach roll into his mouth for added distraction. Harry'd been doing that all lunch period now and it was really starting to make Ron nervous. He really wished Harry'd just say something and stop with the whole intense, silent, inspection Thing.
"Why do you eat so much spinach?"
Ron choked. Damn it! Why did people always ask him surprise questions like that when he was eating? Equally valid: why did Ron always gasp when someone asked him a surprise question?
"So he doesn't get anemic." Ron stopped sputtering long enough to wave his thanks to Hermione before going for a long swig of his pumpkin juice. He wasn't really sure what a Neemick was, but it sounded about right.
"What?!" Harry turned to Hermione, looking almost angry.
Hermione put her book down, always a bad sign. "Honestly, Harry. Don't you retain Anything from the Muggle world?" Harry snorted. 'Not a wise response,' Ron thought to himself. Then again, it was probably better than anything he would have come up with. Hermione sighed, preparing herself to charge full steam ahead into all-out lecturing mode. Ron picked up another spinach roll and started concentratedly shredding it into knute-sized chunks.
"Anemia is when a person doesn't have enough red blood cells, usually because they don't have enough iron or have lost a lot of blood. Someone who is anemic will be pale and tired. Their immune system will be compromised, meaning they'll get sick more easily."
"Oh." Harry's voice had suddenly gone soft and grave and Ron felt like hitting something, or someone. Instead he just snarled at his decimated spinach roll and rose from the table, shoving his loose books back into his bag. The last thing he needed right now was for his friends to feel sorry for him. Clearly he was fine. Why couldn't everyone just forget about it?
He was just about to leave when Harry stopped him. "Wait, Ron, I'll walk you down." Ron turned and looked at Harry levelly, trying to judge what the best response to this would be. Finally, he nodded his consent and the two boys left the Great Hall and started off toward the dungeons.
"No, Harry. Wha..." Draco looked up from his place on the couch just in time to see Ron come through the door, Harry Potter following close behind. He narrowed his eyes. What the fuck was this?
"What the Hell is he doing here?" Draco's tone was so cold it practically dripped ice. Whatever was going on, he wasn't going to stand for it. Ron looked up at Draco, hesitating between the door and the couch. He looked tired and stressed out. Potter just looked defiant.
"I know what's going on, Malfoy."
Draco felt himself go cold at Potter's words, but he refused to back down. Besides, he had known Weasley would end up telling Wonderboy and Mudblood eventually, though a little advance notice would have been appreciated. Anyway, he would deal with that later. "So, if you know what's going on, then why are you still here?" It was difficult to effect hauteur to someone standing when you yourself were seated on a very squashy couch, but Draco did his best. As he was saying this, Weasley seemed to finally make up his mind and he came and perched by Draco on the arm of the couch. Draco managed not to smirk at this. 'See,' he wanted to say, 'you're not important, Potter. Go away.' That sounded much too childish, however, so he restrained himself.
At his question, however, Potter just crossed his arms over his chest, looking very much the stubborn git that he was. "Harry." Weasley's voice was pleading.
Draco snapped. What the Bloody Hell!? "This isn't a bloody game, Potter," he spat, rising quickly from the couch.
"Yes, thank you, Malfoy. We've gone through the this-isn't-a-game bit already. Can we move on, please?"
Draco turned to stare at Ron incredulously. He wasn't supposed to do that. He was supposed to be on His side in this argument. Which Potter had yet to contribute anything substantial to, he remembered suddenly, turning to glare at Harry. Well he'd bloody well had enough of this. "Fine," he snarled. Turning to snatch up his wand from the couch, he was sure to bump Potter extra hard as he stormed out the door.
He had made it halfway down the hall before he heard quick footsteps behind him and was stopped abruptly by a hand on his shoulder. "Malfoy, wait." Oh yes, he'd forgotten, hadn't he.
Without pausing long enough to give Weasley a chance to react, Draco swung around suddenly, gripping Ron by the shoulder, and shoved him up against a tapestry hanging along the wall. "Thanks for reminding me," he said harshly before lunging forward and biting down roughly on the soft flesh near the base of Ron's throat. The blood was salty with the tang of regret and Draco pulled away quickly. He didn't want to know that Weasley was sorry. Didn't want to not have an excuse to be pissed as all hell at the git. "I thought I could trust you," was all he could manage to say, before shoving himself away from the wall and striding off down the darkened corridor. Some things, he guessed, would never change.
Ron watched Malfoy stalk away in a state of confused emotions, the memory of Malfoy's anger still lashing at his mind. Part of him knew that he should be mad at Malfoy for being so rough with him when it wasn't His fault Harry was acting so weird. Generally a person had a right to take offence at being shoved up against a wall and used like some common appliance. But he also couldn't help feeling that he was partly responsible. This whole situation made them both vulnerable and that needed to be taken into account. Almost, Ron wanted to run down the hall after Malfoy and try to tell him that he was sorry, that he was tired and things seemed to be going weird lately, but he knew perfectly well that that wouldn't do any good and everyone would just end up more pissed off than they already were. If only things could stay simple. If only he didn't have to Think about anything.
"Hey, are you ok?" Harry had come up behind him and put his hand on his shoulder. Suddenly, Ron was very pissed off at Harry and he turned to glare at him. Apparently, Harry didn't notice. "You're bleeding!"
Ron shrugged out from under Harry's hand and glared at him more fiercely. "Of Course, I'm bloody Bleeding, Harry. What did you bloody expect? That he would touch me and somehow the blood would just sort of absorb through the skin?"
A hurt look crossed Harry's face but by now Ron had completely lost control of his temper and didn't care if he hurt Harry any more. "And what Was that back there?" Ron flung his arm out, pointing toward Snape's offices. "What gives you the right to interfere in any of this?"
"I'm sorry, Ron. I thought..." Harry spread his hands, looking mad and frustrated at the same time.
"What did you think, Harry? That you would somehow Protect me from all of this?" Even in his fury, Ron saw by the look in Harry's eye that he'd hit a nerve with that. "You can't protect me, Harry. Not even can't, you mustn't. It's not your responsibility. It has nothing to fucking do with you. Voldemort is dead and this is MY battle. My Life." By the end of this Ron was breathing hard and there were tears running parallel tracks down his face. He didn't wipe them away but could only stand, shaking with fury and emotion, in front of Harry whose face looked white and caved in with shock.
He didn't know what he might have said after that, but he was very grateful that Professor Snape chose that moment to make his appearance. "What is going on out here?!" Snape's voice was like a splash of cold water and Harry blinked and turned glazed eyes to stare at the Professor's dark and menacing form. "And what's happened to Malfoy?"
Ron, still red faced, took a deep breath and answered the Professor as calmly as he could, biting out, "He left, sir."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "I see. Ten points from both your houses. Five more from Gryffindor for this racket. Now, get back to whatever it is you're supposed to be doing before I decide to add a detention to that." Both boys began hurrying quickly away down the hallway before Snape's voice rose chillingly behind them once more, bringing them to a stop. "Weasley," he barked out, "get back here."
Wincing internally, Ron turned and trudged back to stand in front of Professor Snape who looked down at him as though he had just discovered a new form of particularly disgusting mildew. "What," he snapped, "did I tell you about taking care of yourself?" Ron winced visibly this time and glanced nervously up at the professor. Snape's mouth was pressed into a tight line but he took out his wand and coldly spoke the words of the concealing glamour that Ron had been using. Tucking his wand away he added, "Be sure to apply the ointment I gave you as soon as you get back. If it gets infected, I don't want to be the one responsible for taking care of it. I'll be checking it tomorrow to be sure that you've done as I've said." With that he turned and strode back into the dark doorway to his offices and Ron hurried back to where Harry was waiting for him uncertainly at the end of the hall. He never knew what to expect from Snape, and, despite his anger, he was glad to have Harry with him for now.
chapter 34: VEXATION - smothered by care and anger
Ron looked up from his food to see Harry staring at him intently. Ron hastily looked away, shoving a spinach roll into his mouth for added distraction. Harry'd been doing that all lunch period now and it was really starting to make Ron nervous. He really wished Harry'd just say something and stop with the whole intense, silent, inspection Thing.
"Why do you eat so much spinach?"
Ron choked. Damn it! Why did people always ask him surprise questions like that when he was eating? Equally valid: why did Ron always gasp when someone asked him a surprise question?
"So he doesn't get anemic." Ron stopped sputtering long enough to wave his thanks to Hermione before going for a long swig of his pumpkin juice. He wasn't really sure what a Neemick was, but it sounded about right.
"What?!" Harry turned to Hermione, looking almost angry.
Hermione put her book down, always a bad sign. "Honestly, Harry. Don't you retain Anything from the Muggle world?" Harry snorted. 'Not a wise response,' Ron thought to himself. Then again, it was probably better than anything he would have come up with. Hermione sighed, preparing herself to charge full steam ahead into all-out lecturing mode. Ron picked up another spinach roll and started concentratedly shredding it into knute-sized chunks.
"Anemia is when a person doesn't have enough red blood cells, usually because they don't have enough iron or have lost a lot of blood. Someone who is anemic will be pale and tired. Their immune system will be compromised, meaning they'll get sick more easily."
"Oh." Harry's voice had suddenly gone soft and grave and Ron felt like hitting something, or someone. Instead he just snarled at his decimated spinach roll and rose from the table, shoving his loose books back into his bag. The last thing he needed right now was for his friends to feel sorry for him. Clearly he was fine. Why couldn't everyone just forget about it?
He was just about to leave when Harry stopped him. "Wait, Ron, I'll walk you down." Ron turned and looked at Harry levelly, trying to judge what the best response to this would be. Finally, he nodded his consent and the two boys left the Great Hall and started off toward the dungeons.
"No, Harry. Wha..." Draco looked up from his place on the couch just in time to see Ron come through the door, Harry Potter following close behind. He narrowed his eyes. What the fuck was this?
"What the Hell is he doing here?" Draco's tone was so cold it practically dripped ice. Whatever was going on, he wasn't going to stand for it. Ron looked up at Draco, hesitating between the door and the couch. He looked tired and stressed out. Potter just looked defiant.
"I know what's going on, Malfoy."
Draco felt himself go cold at Potter's words, but he refused to back down. Besides, he had known Weasley would end up telling Wonderboy and Mudblood eventually, though a little advance notice would have been appreciated. Anyway, he would deal with that later. "So, if you know what's going on, then why are you still here?" It was difficult to effect hauteur to someone standing when you yourself were seated on a very squashy couch, but Draco did his best. As he was saying this, Weasley seemed to finally make up his mind and he came and perched by Draco on the arm of the couch. Draco managed not to smirk at this. 'See,' he wanted to say, 'you're not important, Potter. Go away.' That sounded much too childish, however, so he restrained himself.
At his question, however, Potter just crossed his arms over his chest, looking very much the stubborn git that he was. "Harry." Weasley's voice was pleading.
Draco snapped. What the Bloody Hell!? "This isn't a bloody game, Potter," he spat, rising quickly from the couch.
"Yes, thank you, Malfoy. We've gone through the this-isn't-a-game bit already. Can we move on, please?"
Draco turned to stare at Ron incredulously. He wasn't supposed to do that. He was supposed to be on His side in this argument. Which Potter had yet to contribute anything substantial to, he remembered suddenly, turning to glare at Harry. Well he'd bloody well had enough of this. "Fine," he snarled. Turning to snatch up his wand from the couch, he was sure to bump Potter extra hard as he stormed out the door.
He had made it halfway down the hall before he heard quick footsteps behind him and was stopped abruptly by a hand on his shoulder. "Malfoy, wait." Oh yes, he'd forgotten, hadn't he.
Without pausing long enough to give Weasley a chance to react, Draco swung around suddenly, gripping Ron by the shoulder, and shoved him up against a tapestry hanging along the wall. "Thanks for reminding me," he said harshly before lunging forward and biting down roughly on the soft flesh near the base of Ron's throat. The blood was salty with the tang of regret and Draco pulled away quickly. He didn't want to know that Weasley was sorry. Didn't want to not have an excuse to be pissed as all hell at the git. "I thought I could trust you," was all he could manage to say, before shoving himself away from the wall and striding off down the darkened corridor. Some things, he guessed, would never change.
Ron watched Malfoy stalk away in a state of confused emotions, the memory of Malfoy's anger still lashing at his mind. Part of him knew that he should be mad at Malfoy for being so rough with him when it wasn't His fault Harry was acting so weird. Generally a person had a right to take offence at being shoved up against a wall and used like some common appliance. But he also couldn't help feeling that he was partly responsible. This whole situation made them both vulnerable and that needed to be taken into account. Almost, Ron wanted to run down the hall after Malfoy and try to tell him that he was sorry, that he was tired and things seemed to be going weird lately, but he knew perfectly well that that wouldn't do any good and everyone would just end up more pissed off than they already were. If only things could stay simple. If only he didn't have to Think about anything.
"Hey, are you ok?" Harry had come up behind him and put his hand on his shoulder. Suddenly, Ron was very pissed off at Harry and he turned to glare at him. Apparently, Harry didn't notice. "You're bleeding!"
Ron shrugged out from under Harry's hand and glared at him more fiercely. "Of Course, I'm bloody Bleeding, Harry. What did you bloody expect? That he would touch me and somehow the blood would just sort of absorb through the skin?"
A hurt look crossed Harry's face but by now Ron had completely lost control of his temper and didn't care if he hurt Harry any more. "And what Was that back there?" Ron flung his arm out, pointing toward Snape's offices. "What gives you the right to interfere in any of this?"
"I'm sorry, Ron. I thought..." Harry spread his hands, looking mad and frustrated at the same time.
"What did you think, Harry? That you would somehow Protect me from all of this?" Even in his fury, Ron saw by the look in Harry's eye that he'd hit a nerve with that. "You can't protect me, Harry. Not even can't, you mustn't. It's not your responsibility. It has nothing to fucking do with you. Voldemort is dead and this is MY battle. My Life." By the end of this Ron was breathing hard and there were tears running parallel tracks down his face. He didn't wipe them away but could only stand, shaking with fury and emotion, in front of Harry whose face looked white and caved in with shock.
He didn't know what he might have said after that, but he was very grateful that Professor Snape chose that moment to make his appearance. "What is going on out here?!" Snape's voice was like a splash of cold water and Harry blinked and turned glazed eyes to stare at the Professor's dark and menacing form. "And what's happened to Malfoy?"
Ron, still red faced, took a deep breath and answered the Professor as calmly as he could, biting out, "He left, sir."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "I see. Ten points from both your houses. Five more from Gryffindor for this racket. Now, get back to whatever it is you're supposed to be doing before I decide to add a detention to that." Both boys began hurrying quickly away down the hallway before Snape's voice rose chillingly behind them once more, bringing them to a stop. "Weasley," he barked out, "get back here."
Wincing internally, Ron turned and trudged back to stand in front of Professor Snape who looked down at him as though he had just discovered a new form of particularly disgusting mildew. "What," he snapped, "did I tell you about taking care of yourself?" Ron winced visibly this time and glanced nervously up at the professor. Snape's mouth was pressed into a tight line but he took out his wand and coldly spoke the words of the concealing glamour that Ron had been using. Tucking his wand away he added, "Be sure to apply the ointment I gave you as soon as you get back. If it gets infected, I don't want to be the one responsible for taking care of it. I'll be checking it tomorrow to be sure that you've done as I've said." With that he turned and strode back into the dark doorway to his offices and Ron hurried back to where Harry was waiting for him uncertainly at the end of the hall. He never knew what to expect from Snape, and, despite his anger, he was glad to have Harry with him for now.
