BROKEN
Author: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
Summary: Sequel to "Breaking the Stone." It's been almost 2 years since that certain Winter Break & trouble is brewing at Hogwarts. Draco/Ron slash (or shounen-ai). Rated for language, violence, etc.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Rowling and Scholastic. However, this fanfic does belong to me. Please don't steal. Please don't sue.
Notes: If you'd like to archive my fic on your site or something (yes, I know I'm dreaming), just email me! There's pretty much no doubt I'll say yes. I'd just like to know where my stuff is going.
WARNINGS: This story contains slash. (Boy + Boy = LOVE) Meaning, a homosexual relationship.
/...../ Denotes thought or dream sequence. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ****Marks scene change.
Part Two:
/Rough hands held him against the cold wall of the third floor bathroom. He could feel warm breath brushing across his cheek, and his fingers itched to run through the tendrils of light blond hair hanging carelessly in the way of his restrainers eyes.
"What took you so long?"
A sly grin. "You know professors. They have no consideration when it comes to a guy leaving in the middle of class to make out with his boyfriend."
There was a pause, both of them breathing more harshly than usual. And then Draco went in for a kiss.
Lips met lips. Ron yielded quickly. He opened his mouth in surrender to Draco's probing tongue and- /
"Hey, wake up! You'll be late for class."
Ron Weasley woke to the sight of a curious Neville Longbottom. The young wizard (half of the school was convinced he was a squib) had pulled aside the curtains that usually hid the redhead's four-poster bed from view. He studied the sweaty and cloudy-eyed Weasley before shaking his head. "Nightmare?"
Ron was beyond grateful for the thick blankets that Hogwart's provided, as they were hiding the evidence of his dream. "Er...yeah."
"That's the third one this week. Maybe you should tell Madam Pomfrey."
"No, I'll be fine." Neville turned away, grabbed the book bag perched on his own bed, and shrugged.
"See you in class," he said, and left the room.
Ron let out a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding. Neville was right. Something was wrong. But he was certainly not going to tell _Madam Pomfrey_ about it. He'd rather kiss a spider.
/Kiss.../
He wasn't having nightmares, or even "exciting dreams". They were memories. Memories of late fifth year and early sixth year. Memories of a time when he and Draco had private kissing sessions, heated glances in the hallways...Memories that made Ron sick and sad all at once.
/Draco. That bastard./
With a sigh Ron threw back the covers and stood, a quick cold shower in mind. It wasn't until he was fishing through his trunk for a semi-clean shirt to wear under his school robes that he realized Harry, his supposed best friend, hadn't even bothered to nudge him awake this morning.
/And Hermione,/ he thought. /I don't think I said even two words to her yesterday./
It was no one's fault but his own. It was he who'd gotten cozy with a Death Eater's son during Winter Break fifth year. It was he who'd kept his mouth shut about the _other_ Death Eater's son who had tried to kill him. And it was he who'd distanced himself from his friends out of guilt.
Triumphant, Ron pulled out a shirt that had been at the bottom of his trunk, then went off to take a shower.
*****
"You should all know how to go about transfiguring, even _advanced_ transfiguring, by now. It is, however, the first day back from a long break, so we're going to review the basics once again."
McGonagall was talking, but Draco wasn't listening. He was staring at the woman, the quill in his hand poised over a piece of parchment, but her words just weren't getting through to him.
Instead, the Slytherin's mind was buzzing with thoughts of his father, of Voldemort, and even of Ron.
All summer he'd been beating himself up over what he'd done to the redhead. He had secretly "dated" him for over a year, unintentionally isolated him from his friends, and then had thrown him away like yesterday's Daily Prophet.
/It wasn't my fault. It was my father's. And Voldemort's. And Snape's./ Draco began to chew on the end of his sugar quill as he thought.
It _wasn't_ his fault. He _hadn't_ wanted to break things off with Ron. But he'd had to, because sixth year Lucius had left home to do the Dark Lord's bidding, and because sixth year Snape had-
"I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure are some very important and interesting thoughts, Mr. Malfoy, but would you please rejoin the class and illustrate to us the proper way to transfigure a feather into a peacock?" There were some giggles and satisfied smirks (mostly Gryffindor's) throughout the room. Draco put down his quill, picked up his wand, and prepared to endure another grueling year of school work.
*****
Lunch came after McGonagall's class. As soon as the professor dismissed the class, Draco gathered up his things and headed for the dungeons.
He hurried down stairways and through hallways, dodging hungry students heading for the Dining Hall until he reached Snape's classroom.
The room was as cold and dim as ever. The potions professor was working at his desk, looking over a pile of parchments.
"Mr. Malfoy," he said in the way of a greeting, and looked up.
"Professor."
The blonde stayed quiet, waiting for Snape to signal that it was okay to speak freely.
"Is there something you need, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Lucius hasn't contacted Narcissa since he left during the summer. But the Slytherin's are talking. Their parents have told them that the Dark Lord wants to make his presence known again."
Snape nodded, staying quiet.
Draco, traitor to his family and spy for the Order, took a deep breath and delivered the rest of his report.
Author: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
Summary: Sequel to "Breaking the Stone." It's been almost 2 years since that certain Winter Break & trouble is brewing at Hogwarts. Draco/Ron slash (or shounen-ai). Rated for language, violence, etc.
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to Rowling and Scholastic. However, this fanfic does belong to me. Please don't steal. Please don't sue.
Notes: If you'd like to archive my fic on your site or something (yes, I know I'm dreaming), just email me! There's pretty much no doubt I'll say yes. I'd just like to know where my stuff is going.
WARNINGS: This story contains slash. (Boy + Boy = LOVE) Meaning, a homosexual relationship.
/...../ Denotes thought or dream sequence. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ****Marks scene change.
Part Two:
/Rough hands held him against the cold wall of the third floor bathroom. He could feel warm breath brushing across his cheek, and his fingers itched to run through the tendrils of light blond hair hanging carelessly in the way of his restrainers eyes.
"What took you so long?"
A sly grin. "You know professors. They have no consideration when it comes to a guy leaving in the middle of class to make out with his boyfriend."
There was a pause, both of them breathing more harshly than usual. And then Draco went in for a kiss.
Lips met lips. Ron yielded quickly. He opened his mouth in surrender to Draco's probing tongue and- /
"Hey, wake up! You'll be late for class."
Ron Weasley woke to the sight of a curious Neville Longbottom. The young wizard (half of the school was convinced he was a squib) had pulled aside the curtains that usually hid the redhead's four-poster bed from view. He studied the sweaty and cloudy-eyed Weasley before shaking his head. "Nightmare?"
Ron was beyond grateful for the thick blankets that Hogwart's provided, as they were hiding the evidence of his dream. "Er...yeah."
"That's the third one this week. Maybe you should tell Madam Pomfrey."
"No, I'll be fine." Neville turned away, grabbed the book bag perched on his own bed, and shrugged.
"See you in class," he said, and left the room.
Ron let out a breath he hadn't even been aware of holding. Neville was right. Something was wrong. But he was certainly not going to tell _Madam Pomfrey_ about it. He'd rather kiss a spider.
/Kiss.../
He wasn't having nightmares, or even "exciting dreams". They were memories. Memories of late fifth year and early sixth year. Memories of a time when he and Draco had private kissing sessions, heated glances in the hallways...Memories that made Ron sick and sad all at once.
/Draco. That bastard./
With a sigh Ron threw back the covers and stood, a quick cold shower in mind. It wasn't until he was fishing through his trunk for a semi-clean shirt to wear under his school robes that he realized Harry, his supposed best friend, hadn't even bothered to nudge him awake this morning.
/And Hermione,/ he thought. /I don't think I said even two words to her yesterday./
It was no one's fault but his own. It was he who'd gotten cozy with a Death Eater's son during Winter Break fifth year. It was he who'd kept his mouth shut about the _other_ Death Eater's son who had tried to kill him. And it was he who'd distanced himself from his friends out of guilt.
Triumphant, Ron pulled out a shirt that had been at the bottom of his trunk, then went off to take a shower.
*****
"You should all know how to go about transfiguring, even _advanced_ transfiguring, by now. It is, however, the first day back from a long break, so we're going to review the basics once again."
McGonagall was talking, but Draco wasn't listening. He was staring at the woman, the quill in his hand poised over a piece of parchment, but her words just weren't getting through to him.
Instead, the Slytherin's mind was buzzing with thoughts of his father, of Voldemort, and even of Ron.
All summer he'd been beating himself up over what he'd done to the redhead. He had secretly "dated" him for over a year, unintentionally isolated him from his friends, and then had thrown him away like yesterday's Daily Prophet.
/It wasn't my fault. It was my father's. And Voldemort's. And Snape's./ Draco began to chew on the end of his sugar quill as he thought.
It _wasn't_ his fault. He _hadn't_ wanted to break things off with Ron. But he'd had to, because sixth year Lucius had left home to do the Dark Lord's bidding, and because sixth year Snape had-
"I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure are some very important and interesting thoughts, Mr. Malfoy, but would you please rejoin the class and illustrate to us the proper way to transfigure a feather into a peacock?" There were some giggles and satisfied smirks (mostly Gryffindor's) throughout the room. Draco put down his quill, picked up his wand, and prepared to endure another grueling year of school work.
*****
Lunch came after McGonagall's class. As soon as the professor dismissed the class, Draco gathered up his things and headed for the dungeons.
He hurried down stairways and through hallways, dodging hungry students heading for the Dining Hall until he reached Snape's classroom.
The room was as cold and dim as ever. The potions professor was working at his desk, looking over a pile of parchments.
"Mr. Malfoy," he said in the way of a greeting, and looked up.
"Professor."
The blonde stayed quiet, waiting for Snape to signal that it was okay to speak freely.
"Is there something you need, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Lucius hasn't contacted Narcissa since he left during the summer. But the Slytherin's are talking. Their parents have told them that the Dark Lord wants to make his presence known again."
Snape nodded, staying quiet.
Draco, traitor to his family and spy for the Order, took a deep breath and delivered the rest of his report.