BROKEN
Author: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
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.
A/N: Triple thank you's to those who read and reviewed! It's taking me a looong time to get these chapters out. I'm sorry!! I'd really like to know how you all think it's turning out! Any suggestions on what it could use (plot? boy/boy action? are Draco and Ron too OOC?) ? I'd love to hear from you guys!! Thanks again to the reviewers!! See you next chap. ^_^v
WARNINGS: This story contains slash. (Boy + Boy = LOVE) Meaning, a homosexual relationship.
/...../ Denotes thought or dream sequence. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ****Marks scene change.
Part Five:
It was nearly midnight. In bed, Draco closed light eyes and strained his ears for sounds of wakefulness from his dorm mates.
There was nothing but Goyle's loud snoring and Blaise Zabini, who's bed was to the right of the blonde's, muttering in his sleep.
Opening his eyes, Draco unrolled and smoothed out the slightly crinkled bit of parchment he'd had clenched in his fist. A school owl had delivered the note to him just after dinner, while he'd been attempting to perfect his feather-to-peacock spell (damn that McGonagall, anyway). He could still make no sense out of the words scribbled onto the parchment.
MIDNIGHT. QUIDDITCH FIELD. MEET ME.
What did it mean? Who was it from?
Was it Ron? Had the Gryffindor decided to let Draco say what he needed to say? Because the platinum haired teen definitely needed to say something to the redhead.
It was why, when he'd spotted the youngest Weasley brother strolling around school grounds, he'd tried to talk to him. It was why Draco had driven himself to insanity that past summer trying to figure out things like "right", "love", and "secrecy".
Draco had decided to tell Ron all about his meeting with Dumbledore that day during sixth year, and had decided to tell him about all of the spying on his family and deceiving-of-friends he'd done. He'd decided to tell Ron that he was fighting _against_ the darkness.
It didn't matter that it would compromise his safety, or the "mission" itself. All that mattered was having Ron understand that he hadn't meant to hurt him.
All that mattered was Ron.
****
/Of all places to meet, why the field?/
Draco had encountered no problems leaving the Slytherin dorms. He'd hurried through the dank bowels of the castle, out the main doors, and was now trudging towards the Quidditch field. His soft breathing seemed very loud in the still quiet of the night. He imagined he could hear the steady beat of his heart within his chest.
/Ugh./ He avoided a particularly muddy bit of ground before continuing on his way.
Meeting at the Quidditch Field made no sense.
Draco's thoughts flashed back to McGonagall's words: "Voldemort is back." The blonde shuddered.
Of _course_ Voldemort was back. He'd known Voldemort was back and scheming for a long time. He'd even secretly joined in the fight against the Dark Lord. And what good had come of it? A train station had been destroyed. Several witches, wizards, and muggles had been killed.
This was something big. Something horrible and huge and Draco Malfoy, spy for the Order and son of Lucius Malfoy, hadn't even seen it coming. Of what use was the teen to the side of the light if he couldn't help to prevent something like the attack on the station?
Distractedly, he wondered if Dumbledore would be casting some sort of memory charm on him before kicking him to the curb, back into the unmerciful clutches of his father.
/Father./ Draco's hand slipped into his pocket, finding and gripping the small piece of parchment placed there. It could be absolutely anyone, wanting to meet with him at the field. It could be his father, ready to drag Draco away to receive the Dark Mark (which he had, thankfully, avoided getting thus far). Or it could be his father and a pack of his fellow Death Eater's, ready to pounce and kill Draco, having found out he was a traitor. Yes, it could be anyone waiting for him at the field.
Draco shuddered once more.
*****
The sky overhead was anything but clear. Stars and moon were blocked from sight by thick clouds. So, as it was, Draco did not see the figure seated in the Gryffindor stands by the light of the sky, but instead by the light of the figure's glowing wand.
Draco hesitated at first, eyeing the stands of his rival House in distaste, before sprinting up, and towards Ron, who seemed to be waving his lighted wand about in a bored fashion.
When the blonde reached the youngest Weasley brother he sat down directly behind him and gazed down at the red head of hair, saying nothing. Seeing as how Ron was the one who had summoned _him_, he'd allow the Gryffindor to speak first.
There was a long, tense silence. Ron stopped waving his wand.
Draco was thinking meeting his angry father here, along with a pack of bloodthirsty Death Eater's might've just been a step up from the tense silence between he and the other teen, when Ron spoke.
"What is it you wanted to say to me, Draco?"
The platinum haired sixth year sat up straighter, stomach seeming to suddenly clench with nervousness. He'd noticed the slip. Ron had called him by his first name. And even though the redhead's voice sounded cold and distant, first names meant Ron wasn't ready to claw at his throat. Yet.
Draco didn't say anything at first. He simply stared down at the red hair, thinking of the past and future. Thinking. Ron had just started to shift restlessly when Draco's light eyes narrowed. His body tensed.
This wasn't him. Draco Malfoy was no nervous wreck. Draco Malfoy was not one to be overly emotional. He was not one to tiptoe around, afraid of what everyone would think. Afraid of what consequences every little action might bring. No, Draco Malfoy did what he wanted and got what he wanted. No matter what. Right now he wanted Ron.
"I joined Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix during sixth year. I'm a spy." He snorted, seemingly disgusted with himself. "Not a very good one. I didn't know about the attack on the station. I knew Voldemort was planning something big, something to declare war on both wizards and muggles, but...." He trailed off and paused for a moment before starting again. "It's why I stopped what was going on between us. It wasn't to hurt you. It wasn't because I didn't lo...It wasn't because I wasn't fond of you anymore."
There was no answer. Well, what had he expected, anyway? For Ron to believe him? Hell, he probably wouldn't have believed something like that. What had he been expecting?
Draco felt terrible. The silence continued. He thought perhaps it was time to take his leave when he noticed that Ron's slight frame was shaking. Barely noticeable, but definitely shaking.
Slowly and unsure, he reached out a hand and placed it on one narrow shoulder. Ron turned, eyes misty. He wasn't crying. Not exactly. "I want to believe you," he said.
Draco couldn't help himself. He bent lower until he could feel Ron's breath against his lips. Then, he went for it. First, he let his tongue trace the redhead's lower lip timidly. He was looking for permission. Ron gave it to him.
Soon, Draco's tongue was delving into the Gryffindor's mouth. Ron moaned before responding. They kissed passionately, Draco's hand moved from shoulder to waist. He needed to lift that t-shirt. He needed to _feel_ the skin he'd so missed. God, Ron tasted-
"Sorry to interrupt you two, but I'd really like to know what the _hell_ is going on." Harry Potter, having appeared out of thin air, was standing on the stands beside them. And, though Draco wasn't absolutely sure, he thought the teen didn't look at all sorry about interrupting them.
*****
Ron had thought that invisible cloak was trouble the first time he'd laid eyes on it.
Well, maybe that wasn't exactly true.
Well....maybe that wasn't true at all.
Whatever the case, the invisibility cloak was certainly a load of trouble _now_. The redhead could make out a faint outline of the cloak grasped tightly in Harry's hand.
Harry. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was standing before he and Draco, wearing a determined expression.
Ron was surprised the teen's expression wasn't one of anger or disgust. Really surprised.
Draco straightened, his hands leaving Ron. He looked anxious and undecided. Ron realized the blonde didn't know what to do.
"What are you doing here, Potter? What do you want?" Draco spat this out, sounding venomous.
Harry glared at the Slytherin. "Shut it, Malfoy. I just listened to you confess that you're working for Dumbledore and watched you have a snog-session with Ron. I've got plenty of ammunition. Don't make me mad."
Draco mumbled something under his breath, but quickly became silent. Both he and Ron sat, waiting.
"Tell me what's going on," Harry repeated after a moment of quiet.
Draco, looking as if he was trying not to clench his teeth, narrowed his eyes. "Seems to me like you know exactly what's going on. You just said you heard and saw everything."
Before Harry could reply to that, Ron spoke up. "What do you want to know, Harry?"
The Gryffindor Seeker turned to his once close friend, his expression softening. "Ron...Both of you. Tell me about fifth year."
Both Draco and Ron tensed immediately. The redhead gripped his wand so tightly he imagined he felt the wood give a bit. Draco's clean, short nails dug deeply into his palms, making grooves.
"I heard you two talking near the forest. Then I ran into Ginny and she let something slip. Something about our fifth year. What happened?"
Draco shouted. "Ginny!"
Ron shook his head. "No one's supposed to know, Harry. No one's supposed to know."
Harry's voice rose a notch. He sounded dangerous. "There has to be a reason you're making out with the guy you enjoyed seeing turned into a ferret fourth year, Ron. _Something_ happened fifth year. And if it had anything to do with me, or with Voldemort, I have the right to know. Tell me."
Harry seemed calm, but angry. Ron was in shock. He was scared. His former best friend, a guy who had gone up against You-Know-Who himself, had just witnessed him kissing the son of a very powerful Death Eater. And not only that. Harry knew about fifth year. Or, at least, Harry knew that something had happened during fifth year, and knew that Ron hadn't told him about it. The redhead felt guilty and sick. He could feel a headache coming on. A vague pain slowly building around his temples.
Rubbing at his forehead, Ron suddenly became still, realizing something. "Harry. You sent me that message, didn't you?"
Harry nodded.
Ron pressed on. "You sent Draco one, too?"
Another nod.
Ron's shoulders slumped. It figured. So Draco hadn't sent the message, after all. He should've known the blonde didn't care enough to do something like that. He wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, his mind screaming. /I was so stupid./ He decided not to think about the fact that Draco _had_ tried to talk to him near the forest, and decided to ponder on the fact that the blonde was risking his life as a spy for the Order, later. /So stupid./
Harry came, finally, to the end of his patience. "I said tell me what happened fifth year."
"I can't tell you," said Ron, softly. He stood and stuck his wand into his back pocket. He looked up to meet his friend's hurt, emerald green eyes and almost flinched. It wasn't that he wanted to leave Harry clueless. He'd tell Harry later, as soon as he had a talk with Dumbledore. Or maybe he wouldn't even talk to the old headmaster. Maybe he'd tell Harry in the morning, during breakfast. Maybe he'd tell Hermione, too. Just not right now. His head was pounding. His heart was aching. He felt slightly hostile towards the Boy Who Lived. It was him, after all, who had made Ron's hopes flare with that message. /But it was me who was stupid./
Ron turned to leave. "Ron...," said Harry, but the redhead, even hearing the obvious distress in Harry's voice, did not turn back. He could still clearly hear the voices of the other two teens as he reached the bottom of the stands.
"Malfoy, tell me what happened fifth year."
"I think you'd best ask Dumbledore about it, Potter."
Ron didn't hear anymore. Headache steadily growing worse, he hurried towards the Gryffindor House. The attack on the station, Harry finding out, Draco kissing him... Too much had happened, and it was hours before only the second day of classes. Ron wanted to rest. He wanted to sleep.
He suspected he would need the rest. Something big was coming.
Author: Nox (goddess_nox@hotmail.com)
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.
A/N: Triple thank you's to those who read and reviewed! It's taking me a looong time to get these chapters out. I'm sorry!! I'd really like to know how you all think it's turning out! Any suggestions on what it could use (plot? boy/boy action? are Draco and Ron too OOC?) ? I'd love to hear from you guys!! Thanks again to the reviewers!! See you next chap. ^_^v
WARNINGS: This story contains slash. (Boy + Boy = LOVE) Meaning, a homosexual relationship.
/...../ Denotes thought or dream sequence. _ABCD_ Denotes Emphasis. ****Marks scene change.
Part Five:
It was nearly midnight. In bed, Draco closed light eyes and strained his ears for sounds of wakefulness from his dorm mates.
There was nothing but Goyle's loud snoring and Blaise Zabini, who's bed was to the right of the blonde's, muttering in his sleep.
Opening his eyes, Draco unrolled and smoothed out the slightly crinkled bit of parchment he'd had clenched in his fist. A school owl had delivered the note to him just after dinner, while he'd been attempting to perfect his feather-to-peacock spell (damn that McGonagall, anyway). He could still make no sense out of the words scribbled onto the parchment.
MIDNIGHT. QUIDDITCH FIELD. MEET ME.
What did it mean? Who was it from?
Was it Ron? Had the Gryffindor decided to let Draco say what he needed to say? Because the platinum haired teen definitely needed to say something to the redhead.
It was why, when he'd spotted the youngest Weasley brother strolling around school grounds, he'd tried to talk to him. It was why Draco had driven himself to insanity that past summer trying to figure out things like "right", "love", and "secrecy".
Draco had decided to tell Ron all about his meeting with Dumbledore that day during sixth year, and had decided to tell him about all of the spying on his family and deceiving-of-friends he'd done. He'd decided to tell Ron that he was fighting _against_ the darkness.
It didn't matter that it would compromise his safety, or the "mission" itself. All that mattered was having Ron understand that he hadn't meant to hurt him.
All that mattered was Ron.
****
/Of all places to meet, why the field?/
Draco had encountered no problems leaving the Slytherin dorms. He'd hurried through the dank bowels of the castle, out the main doors, and was now trudging towards the Quidditch field. His soft breathing seemed very loud in the still quiet of the night. He imagined he could hear the steady beat of his heart within his chest.
/Ugh./ He avoided a particularly muddy bit of ground before continuing on his way.
Meeting at the Quidditch Field made no sense.
Draco's thoughts flashed back to McGonagall's words: "Voldemort is back." The blonde shuddered.
Of _course_ Voldemort was back. He'd known Voldemort was back and scheming for a long time. He'd even secretly joined in the fight against the Dark Lord. And what good had come of it? A train station had been destroyed. Several witches, wizards, and muggles had been killed.
This was something big. Something horrible and huge and Draco Malfoy, spy for the Order and son of Lucius Malfoy, hadn't even seen it coming. Of what use was the teen to the side of the light if he couldn't help to prevent something like the attack on the station?
Distractedly, he wondered if Dumbledore would be casting some sort of memory charm on him before kicking him to the curb, back into the unmerciful clutches of his father.
/Father./ Draco's hand slipped into his pocket, finding and gripping the small piece of parchment placed there. It could be absolutely anyone, wanting to meet with him at the field. It could be his father, ready to drag Draco away to receive the Dark Mark (which he had, thankfully, avoided getting thus far). Or it could be his father and a pack of his fellow Death Eater's, ready to pounce and kill Draco, having found out he was a traitor. Yes, it could be anyone waiting for him at the field.
Draco shuddered once more.
*****
The sky overhead was anything but clear. Stars and moon were blocked from sight by thick clouds. So, as it was, Draco did not see the figure seated in the Gryffindor stands by the light of the sky, but instead by the light of the figure's glowing wand.
Draco hesitated at first, eyeing the stands of his rival House in distaste, before sprinting up, and towards Ron, who seemed to be waving his lighted wand about in a bored fashion.
When the blonde reached the youngest Weasley brother he sat down directly behind him and gazed down at the red head of hair, saying nothing. Seeing as how Ron was the one who had summoned _him_, he'd allow the Gryffindor to speak first.
There was a long, tense silence. Ron stopped waving his wand.
Draco was thinking meeting his angry father here, along with a pack of bloodthirsty Death Eater's might've just been a step up from the tense silence between he and the other teen, when Ron spoke.
"What is it you wanted to say to me, Draco?"
The platinum haired sixth year sat up straighter, stomach seeming to suddenly clench with nervousness. He'd noticed the slip. Ron had called him by his first name. And even though the redhead's voice sounded cold and distant, first names meant Ron wasn't ready to claw at his throat. Yet.
Draco didn't say anything at first. He simply stared down at the red hair, thinking of the past and future. Thinking. Ron had just started to shift restlessly when Draco's light eyes narrowed. His body tensed.
This wasn't him. Draco Malfoy was no nervous wreck. Draco Malfoy was not one to be overly emotional. He was not one to tiptoe around, afraid of what everyone would think. Afraid of what consequences every little action might bring. No, Draco Malfoy did what he wanted and got what he wanted. No matter what. Right now he wanted Ron.
"I joined Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix during sixth year. I'm a spy." He snorted, seemingly disgusted with himself. "Not a very good one. I didn't know about the attack on the station. I knew Voldemort was planning something big, something to declare war on both wizards and muggles, but...." He trailed off and paused for a moment before starting again. "It's why I stopped what was going on between us. It wasn't to hurt you. It wasn't because I didn't lo...It wasn't because I wasn't fond of you anymore."
There was no answer. Well, what had he expected, anyway? For Ron to believe him? Hell, he probably wouldn't have believed something like that. What had he been expecting?
Draco felt terrible. The silence continued. He thought perhaps it was time to take his leave when he noticed that Ron's slight frame was shaking. Barely noticeable, but definitely shaking.
Slowly and unsure, he reached out a hand and placed it on one narrow shoulder. Ron turned, eyes misty. He wasn't crying. Not exactly. "I want to believe you," he said.
Draco couldn't help himself. He bent lower until he could feel Ron's breath against his lips. Then, he went for it. First, he let his tongue trace the redhead's lower lip timidly. He was looking for permission. Ron gave it to him.
Soon, Draco's tongue was delving into the Gryffindor's mouth. Ron moaned before responding. They kissed passionately, Draco's hand moved from shoulder to waist. He needed to lift that t-shirt. He needed to _feel_ the skin he'd so missed. God, Ron tasted-
"Sorry to interrupt you two, but I'd really like to know what the _hell_ is going on." Harry Potter, having appeared out of thin air, was standing on the stands beside them. And, though Draco wasn't absolutely sure, he thought the teen didn't look at all sorry about interrupting them.
*****
Ron had thought that invisible cloak was trouble the first time he'd laid eyes on it.
Well, maybe that wasn't exactly true.
Well....maybe that wasn't true at all.
Whatever the case, the invisibility cloak was certainly a load of trouble _now_. The redhead could make out a faint outline of the cloak grasped tightly in Harry's hand.
Harry. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was standing before he and Draco, wearing a determined expression.
Ron was surprised the teen's expression wasn't one of anger or disgust. Really surprised.
Draco straightened, his hands leaving Ron. He looked anxious and undecided. Ron realized the blonde didn't know what to do.
"What are you doing here, Potter? What do you want?" Draco spat this out, sounding venomous.
Harry glared at the Slytherin. "Shut it, Malfoy. I just listened to you confess that you're working for Dumbledore and watched you have a snog-session with Ron. I've got plenty of ammunition. Don't make me mad."
Draco mumbled something under his breath, but quickly became silent. Both he and Ron sat, waiting.
"Tell me what's going on," Harry repeated after a moment of quiet.
Draco, looking as if he was trying not to clench his teeth, narrowed his eyes. "Seems to me like you know exactly what's going on. You just said you heard and saw everything."
Before Harry could reply to that, Ron spoke up. "What do you want to know, Harry?"
The Gryffindor Seeker turned to his once close friend, his expression softening. "Ron...Both of you. Tell me about fifth year."
Both Draco and Ron tensed immediately. The redhead gripped his wand so tightly he imagined he felt the wood give a bit. Draco's clean, short nails dug deeply into his palms, making grooves.
"I heard you two talking near the forest. Then I ran into Ginny and she let something slip. Something about our fifth year. What happened?"
Draco shouted. "Ginny!"
Ron shook his head. "No one's supposed to know, Harry. No one's supposed to know."
Harry's voice rose a notch. He sounded dangerous. "There has to be a reason you're making out with the guy you enjoyed seeing turned into a ferret fourth year, Ron. _Something_ happened fifth year. And if it had anything to do with me, or with Voldemort, I have the right to know. Tell me."
Harry seemed calm, but angry. Ron was in shock. He was scared. His former best friend, a guy who had gone up against You-Know-Who himself, had just witnessed him kissing the son of a very powerful Death Eater. And not only that. Harry knew about fifth year. Or, at least, Harry knew that something had happened during fifth year, and knew that Ron hadn't told him about it. The redhead felt guilty and sick. He could feel a headache coming on. A vague pain slowly building around his temples.
Rubbing at his forehead, Ron suddenly became still, realizing something. "Harry. You sent me that message, didn't you?"
Harry nodded.
Ron pressed on. "You sent Draco one, too?"
Another nod.
Ron's shoulders slumped. It figured. So Draco hadn't sent the message, after all. He should've known the blonde didn't care enough to do something like that. He wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, his mind screaming. /I was so stupid./ He decided not to think about the fact that Draco _had_ tried to talk to him near the forest, and decided to ponder on the fact that the blonde was risking his life as a spy for the Order, later. /So stupid./
Harry came, finally, to the end of his patience. "I said tell me what happened fifth year."
"I can't tell you," said Ron, softly. He stood and stuck his wand into his back pocket. He looked up to meet his friend's hurt, emerald green eyes and almost flinched. It wasn't that he wanted to leave Harry clueless. He'd tell Harry later, as soon as he had a talk with Dumbledore. Or maybe he wouldn't even talk to the old headmaster. Maybe he'd tell Harry in the morning, during breakfast. Maybe he'd tell Hermione, too. Just not right now. His head was pounding. His heart was aching. He felt slightly hostile towards the Boy Who Lived. It was him, after all, who had made Ron's hopes flare with that message. /But it was me who was stupid./
Ron turned to leave. "Ron...," said Harry, but the redhead, even hearing the obvious distress in Harry's voice, did not turn back. He could still clearly hear the voices of the other two teens as he reached the bottom of the stands.
"Malfoy, tell me what happened fifth year."
"I think you'd best ask Dumbledore about it, Potter."
Ron didn't hear anymore. Headache steadily growing worse, he hurried towards the Gryffindor House. The attack on the station, Harry finding out, Draco kissing him... Too much had happened, and it was hours before only the second day of classes. Ron wanted to rest. He wanted to sleep.
He suspected he would need the rest. Something big was coming.