"Hermione!" whispered Harry, poking his head around the toilet cubicle. "Come in, quickly!" replied Hermione, prising the door open another couple of centimetres so that Harry could squeeze into the cramped space, before shutting it quickly, and drawing the lock, while Harry stepped his way over small piles of debris before clearing a space on the floor to sit on. "Did he buy the story then?" asked Hermione. "Yep, he thinks I have emergency Quidditch practice, and that I'll be back later."
"Great." replied Hermione, concentrating as she added a number of wriggling leeches into the seething cauldron. "And you made sure no-one saw you?" "I hope not," muttered Harry, before adding, after a caustic glare from Hermione "Definitely not. No-one saw me, although you'd think they'd be used to it by now, seeing me strolling into girls' toilets." This was followed by a small snigger from Hermione, which she tried to cover up with a cough. "It's not funny, you know." continued Harry, "I caught myself explaining to Seamus the benefits of hair mousse the other day. I blame it on too much time spent in girls' toilets. Plus, every time I come in here Moaning Myrtle tries it on with me." After a few more minutes of faked coughing and stirring Hermione finally stood up, brushing off her robes. "Right. I've added all the ingredients now, all we have to do is wait until morning so we can slip some into his pumpkin juice." "Excellent" said Harry, as he struggled to his feet. "I just hope we're doing the right thing." he looked at Hermione, biting his lip. "Me too." replied Hermione. "Me too."
The next morning Harry and Hermione both woke up with butterflies in their stomachs and a feeling of severe trepidation for the coming ordeal. Breakfast. Ron had still not surfaced from his pool of depression and it took some coercion on the part of Harry to get him to slouch his way down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, where Hermione was waiting. To Harry's annoyance she greeted them both with an overly cheerful 'Good morning!' whilst smiling maniacally. Ron replied with a grunt, Harry with a whispered 'Act normal!' and the three commenced on their way to the Great Hall, along with the other Gryffindors.
Once they had reached the Hall and taken their seats at the Gryffindor table, Ron sat there resolutely chewing on a piece of dry toast, while Harry and Hermione desperately thought of ways to try and distract him. Hermione ventured a lame "Erm, Ron, would you like any butter on that?" Ron responded by shaking his head. Just as Harry was contemplating giving up on the whole plan (there was obviously no hope of enticing Ron into any kind of conversation) Ron burst out into an unexpected tirade.
"You know what gets me? It's the fact that I get paired with him. Me. Not someone else. Me. I mean, it's not like there aren't other people in the class. There's like a one in twenty chance of being paired with him, and what do I get, eh? I get paired with the biggest most absolute-"
"-ly amazing, attractive, talented individual in the whole of this school? Honestly, Weasley I had no idea you thought so highly of me, although anything is an improvement upon the tramps you hang around with." Malfoy, it seemed, had appeared from nowhere, to stand next to the Gryffindor table, flanked by his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.
Ron turned slowly around, before standing up to look Malfoy in the eye. "You should have let me finish Malfoy, but then you may not have heard me anyway, considering your head is so far up your own arse!" The whole Gryffindor table sat in hushed silence at the spectacle. In the time this exchange had taken, Harry had stood up next to Ron, ready to restrain him if necessary, and Hermione had already slipped the concoction into Ron's pumpkin juice. "I'd rather have my head up my arse then listen to anything you have to say, Weasley. After all, you only speak in two syllable words. Even Potter can do better than that." Harry tried to intervene "Shut up Malfoy, come on Ron he's not worth it!" However, despite Harry's efforts, whatever patience had been left inside Ron snapped at that point, and he lunged, snarling at Malfoy, throwing a punch that only missed its target because Harry was holding Ron by the shoulders, pulling him back.
At that moment Professor McGonogall came over, shrewdly assessing the situation. "Mr. Malfoy, would you kindly return to the Slytherin table, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, return to your seats." For a moment it looked like Ron and Draco were not going to comply. They stood, bodies angled towards each other, eyes locked, each of them glaring furiously at the other, sizing him up. In the end it was Draco who turned, breaking the tense atmosphere. Gradually, some of the chatter returned in the Hall. He motioned to Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. "See you later, Weasley." he said, smirking as he sauntered away. When he had left, Ron angrily shrugged his arms out of Harry's hold, flinging himself down onto the bench, his whole body shaking with anger, as he downed his glass of pumpkin juice.
After classes had finished for the day, Ron was in a marginally better mood than he had been that morning. Harry and Hermione both preferred a cross Ron to a moping, depressed one, and when the time came for him to meet Draco he left with a kind of resignation, assuring them both that he would try to keep his temper in check. Despite his assurances, Ron still dragged his feet the entire way to the third floor, taking the longest possible route, hoping desperately that Malfoy wouldn't be there. Unfortunately, when he pushed open the door to the second room on the left, a disused Transfiguration classroom, Malfoy was already there, standing by the window, looking down at the grounds. The moonlight reflected off his hair and made it look like molten silver. As the door opened, he turned around, his face wearing his trademark sardonic smile.
"You're late, Weasley." Ron tried extremely hard not to look at Draco as he began unpacking his bag, dumping things unceremoniously on a table. He replied through gritted teeth "I believe it's called fashionably late, Malfoy." Continuing the excavation of is bag. Draco hopped from his position on the windowsill, to stand across from Ron, his arms folded, glancing up and down at Ron's tatty robes. "Oh believe me Weasley, nothing about you is fashionable." Ron stopped unpacking his bags and balled his fists, his whole mind bent on nothing but teaching Malfoy a very, very painful lesson, but as he looked up, his eyes met Draco's and he felt a dizzying sensation, and had to steady himself on the table. Draco looked at him, with a mixture of disdain and concern.
"Are you alright, Weasley?"
No I'm bloody well not, I'm in a room with the biggest twat in Christendom.
But all he replied was "Yeah, I'm fine."
What? That's not what I wanted to say!
Draco was mildly surprised at how cordial Weasley was being. "Shall we get to work then?"
Yeah, I'll get to work beating the crap out of you.
But all Ron did was nod. He felt so strange, like he was being invisibly gagged or as if someone else was controlling him, like a puppet. He didn't know what was more infuriating, Malfoy, or his own incapability to hit him.
Draco was very puzzled; this new act of Weasley's was slightly disconcerting. When did Weasley learn about civilised behaviour? "Alright then," he said, flicking his wand to make a couple of chairs slide across the floor to rest next to himself and Ron. They both sat down and Draco began to talk about their project, however, Ron was barely listening to a word. His head was reeling; as though he had just downed ten butter beers, and his mind was bombarded with strange thoughts that he refused were his. All he could concentrate on was the beauty of Draco's hair, how it would feel entwined around his fingers, how his face was so delicately sculpted, the curve of his cheekbones, the way his lips moved when he talked and how exquisite they would feel against his own. Before he knew what he was doing, he had leaned over, powerless to stop himself, his whole mind screaming in disgust as he felt his lips connect with Draco's, for what was just a few seconds, but felt like hours, and then he pulled away, the dizziness was gone and he was left, as was Draco in a state of shock.
Ron began furiously wiping his lips, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Malfoy was his enemy; he hated him more than he had ever hated anyone. Why did that just happen? Draco, seeing Ron's reaction was immediately on the defensive. "Wow Weasley, was it that bad?" Ron was feverishly rubbing his lips now, refusing to believe what this was real. "Only, I seem to remember it was you that started it."
Ron stopped rubbing his lips, to rush at Malfoy, now he had finally regained the use of his limbs. He pushed Malfoy hard against the wall, enjoying it as he saw Malfoy wince with pain. "Now Malfoy, I don't know what you did, but this will never, ever happen again, do you hear me?" Malfoy turned his face aside, sneering. "Weasley, do you honestly think I drugged you? A dog could kiss better, which I'm sure the entire school will be very interested to hear tomorrow." Ron narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't tell anyone, Malfoy, you stand to lose just as much as me." Ron smiled with satisfaction as Malfoy looked away. He relaxed his grip a little, and Malfoy regained his composure. "Fine. I won't tell anyone." As he said this he leant closer to Ron, whispering in his ear, Ron felt Draco's breath hot against his neck. "For now."
And with that he twisted out of Ron's grip and walked towards the door. Before he left, though, he added "Oh, and don't worry about the project. I'll do it myself." Ron waited until Draco's receding footsteps had died away before he slumped to the floor, exhausted. He would not go back to the Gryffindor common room, he couldn't face it. The one thought that plagued Ron before he fell asleep on the dusty floorboards was the terrible realisation that he had enjoyed the kiss with Malfoy; in some sick way he had enjoyed it. He did not know that down in the Slytherin dormitory, Draco was tossing in his bed for the same reason.