BROKEN
Author: Nox (goddess underscore nox at hotmail dot com)
Notes: Hello, I'm back! - Ducks all tomatoes and unpleasant things being thrown at her - I'm really sorry about the delay. I don't think I can apologize enough for how long it took me to get this chap out. First, it was b/c I was trying to write chaps for my other fic, then it was b/c of laziness, then it was b/c I was starting at and moving into a University in another city...But I won't bother you w/ any more excuses. I'd just like to say I'm sorry, and that I'm EXTREMELY grateful for ALL reviews received for previous chapters. Oh, and to the reviewer Daraas Mire who came up with a brilliant guess of the plot I'd like to say that I loved reading the idea, and that I'm nowhere near smart enough to come w/ something like that . Or am I...? ; ) Hmmm..read and see! I'll try to write faster! And thanks again to all reviewers and readers! Y'all are the best! : )
Xtra Note: The old signs I used to indicate emphasis, or scene breaks, aren't showing up anymore. So now (if this works) emphasis will be in italics, and scene change will be marked by a bunch of these --. Hope it works!
Part Six:
The "something big" that Ronald Weasley was so sure was coming was not, in the redhead's opinion, coming quite soon enough.
It had been over a week since he'd encountered both Harry and Draco on the Quidditch field, and the time had passed painfully.
Classes were hell. The youngest Weasley brother had just barely scraped by in his sixth year, thanks to his dreadful "break up" with a certain blonde Slytherin, and was now paying for the slacking he'd done. Some of the spells, charms, and ogre wars the professors were now going on about seemed completely unfamiliar.
And then there was Harry. The Boy Who Lived cornered Ron whenever possible. During classes, after classes, between classes...He was always there, poking and prodding and demanding to know what had happened during winter break their fifth year. The redhead felt cold, and sad, and ugly inside when, having been refused any information yet again, the brunette's emerald eyes would scream "I feel hurt and betrayed".
He almost wished Harry would go to Dumbledore, reveal that something had managed to slip about fifth year, and have the old Headmaster explain everything to him. Almost.
Because that would mean a very upset old wizard, who would no longer feel secure when it came to a certain four students and secrets. /Then again, is it wise to have kept my almost-murder a secret in the first place?/
The redhead dismissed his doubts quickly. Dumbledore had wise and sensible reasons for everything. Even if it didn't seem that way sometimes. He had reasons.
-----
Draco Malfoy was seriously considering the possibility that Dumbledore, Snape, and everyone else involved in the "keep John Macnair's little almost-killing spree a secret" fiasco were complete imbeciles.
/Including me./
What was the use of having kept something like that a secret? Sure, it prevented more panic. But wasn't being panicky and cautious a whole lot better than being dead? Dead like the people, muggle and wizard kind alike, that had been in the train station?
Maybe having news of John Macnair splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet would not have been such a bad thing. Maybe it would have prevented the station attack.
/It doesn't matter,/ thought the platinum haired teen sullenly. /Either way, I'm responsible./
He could've said something about Macnair, and he should've, as a spy for the Order, known something about the train station attack. He was guilty on both of those counts.
"I'm responsible," he said, and stopped walking. Sunlight streamed in through a large, nearby window and he squinted at the view of the Hogwart's grounds. He could make out the lake, just barely, from where he was standing. And a pleasant memory, involving both the lakeside and Ron, came to him unbidden. God, Ron...
"For what?"
Draco's heart jumped within his chest. He spun around to see Harry Potter coming down the hall, a determined and angry gleam in his green eyes. He stopped in front of the blonde. They were eye to eye.
"Huh?" asked Draco, quite stupidly. He was still surprised to be staring at The Boy Who Was An Ass when just a moment ago he'd been basking in sunlight and daydreaming of his lo...er, like.
"What are you responsible for, Malfoy?" The brunette's fists were tightly clenched.
Easily falling back into the old routine of "I hate Potter and he hates me", the Slytherin sneered. "Either go ask Dumbledork about it or go stick something were the sun most definitely doesn't shine, Potter. I won't tell you shit."
Harry's eyes suddenly glowed anger. His whole body tensed. His teeth grinded. Draco found himself being shoved up against a stone wall. Potter's hands were at his throat. Draco, with his own not-too-shabby strength, removed those hands. They stared at each other. Measured each other up. Then Potter exploded.
"Dammit, Malfoy. Tell me. Just please, please tell me what happened fifth year. Tell me what happened while I was gone winter break. Tell me."
The blonde pursed his lips for a moment, making them thin. Potter had never told him, of all people, please. "Why should I tell you?"
The Gryffindor seemed to be on the verge of spitting out very mean words in Draco's direction, but contained himself. "One, you should tell me because when bad events take place they always circle back around to me anyway. Two, you should tell me because Ron is my friend, and I want to help him. Three, you should tell me because I want to help Ron and I know, for some weird reason, you two are...attached. You want to help him, too."
"You know," said Draco, "two of those are pretty much the same reason. And me and the little red are not attached. And it doesn't seem to me like the two of you have been the best of friends..." He trailed off, not wanting to push too far. The Boy Who Lived fought for the side of the light, and did the right thing most of the time, but he was anything but flawless. Draco did not fancy the thought of one of the Gryffindor's flaws being getting in (yet another) fierce physical fight with him.
Ron wouldn't be pleased with that.
Harry blinked. "Not attached? You just called him little red! And you're Malfoy."
Draco sighed. "Listen Potter, why don't you just go to the Headmaster?" He didn't want to deal with this. Not now. Most definitely not now.
"Because..." Harry trailed off. His whole body was tense and his eyes had a far away look to them. "Because I want Ron to tell me. Going to ask Dumbledore would be like betraying him."
Draco's eyes grew wide. He didn't quite understand. "Then why are you asking me?"
Potter shrugged and ran fingers through his shaggy, dark hair. "Er...Well, you're like his boyfriend right? I reckoned he wouldn't mind as much if I got you to tell me."
Okay, so he really didn't understand. "Boyfriend?" Draco tried to ignore the sour and sweet feelings that simple word managed to illicit when associated with the scarlet haired Gryffindor. "I don't know what you're talking about." The blonde managed an unbelieving snort. "Boyfriend. Really."
The Boy Who Lived slammed a fist into the wall right next to Draco's head. "Look, Malfoy. I don't care that Ron and you are gay. Ron's my friend. Hell, I'd be willing to excuse the fact that he chose you, of all people, to like. All I want to know is what happened during winter break fifth year." He leaned in close, but his voice stayed clear and fierce. "I know that you're gay, I know that you like a Weasley, I know that you're working for the Order. Now tell me what happened, or I'm going to do some real damage with that information."
Stunned and beyond anger, Draco opened his mouth to speak. However, before the teen could produce anything more than a disbelieving squeak, there was the sound of footsteps.
Both Potter and Malfoy glanced towards the end of the hallway just in time to make out the flowing ends of a dark robe disappearing around the corner.
The steps sped up before quickly fading away.
"Oh," said Harry, "bloody hell."
"At least nobody got a spell in the chest this time," said Draco.
Harry just blinked at him.