BROKEN

Author: Harikari (Formerly Known As Nox2) I've changed my name!!

Notes: Here's number eight. Hope you enjoy. Thanks for all the reviews so far! I'm sorry for the many spelling mistakes, grammatical errors and other such things that are sure to be in all of my stories. Ugh. Oh, and I meant to get to the dance this chap, but it just didn't work out that way. This story seems to be moving along too slowly...Tell me what you think!

Italics stand for emphasis and --- stands for scene breaks

Part Eight:

As seventh year wore on, Draco felt worse and worse. He'd felt useless and angry at himself before, for not telling the wizarding world about Macnair despite Dumbledore's stupid wishes, and for not knowing about the Death Eater attack on the train station. Now he felt simply miserable.

He was of very little use - if any at all - to the Order while at school. His reports to Snape and to the Headmaster, which had been frequent during the first weeks of school, were now nonexistent. He had nothing to tell them, unless the side of the light wanted to know about Zabini's snoring habits, or about the crush Millicent Bulstrode had on that sixth year Hufflepuff.

And they didn't. Draco had asked.

And as if worrying over his Order duties wasn't trouble enough, the blonde still constantly thought of Ron. He thought about his hands, his mouth, his eyes. When Draco passed his ex in the corridors he gave him small smiles that he hoped no one else noticed, and received small smirks in return.

But that was all. And Draco didn't want that to be all. He wanted more. He wanted what they'd had before. He wanted the heat between them, his hand in Ron's hair, his tongue in Ron's mouth.

It was the week before Halloween when Draco finally broke. He just couldn't take being away from Ron anymore. And why should he have to? He was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's always got what they wanted.

Always.

-----

"So Harry froze one himself, huh? That's brilliant. Not that I'm surprised or anything. I mean, he is Harry."

Ron was becoming very annoyed with Harvey Williams. The sixth year was continually jabbering on about the spider incident, despite the fact that it was now considered old news even by gossip queens like Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil.

The redhead didn't want to think about giant spiders. He had enough to worry about. Like the train station attack Harry had become so obsessed with, and like Harry himself.

The green-eyed teen acted as if the deaths of the muggles and wizards had been brought about by his own hand. He trailed after Cho and her affections less and less, and was instead busying himself with interrogating teachers and students for helpful information, or picking fights with Slytherins because he thought they'd looked at someone wrong.

Harry was angry, and he was in full-blown investigation mode. But it wasn't okay this time, because this time Hermione and Ron weren't there to help him.

"Right," the redhead told Ginny's boyfriend morosely. "But you already knew that Harvey. You know the story by heart, why do you keep asking me about it?"

The pair passed by a hall bulletin board. There was a blinking notice on it announcing the Halloween dance the next Friday. Ron groaned, but Harvey seemed to perk up considerably.

"What are you going as?" asked the sixth year.

"Nothing."

Harvey frowned. "Nothing? You aren't wearing a costume? Where's your Halloween spirit, Ron?" The Ravenclaw waved to someone in the distance. Ron was releived to see it was his sister, come to take her boyfriend away. Probably away to snog.

Thinking of snogging brought Malfoy to mind, and Ron held back another groan. "I'm a bloody wizard, Harvey. I think that's Halloween-y enough."

Ginny had stopped to talk to some other sixth year Gryffindor girls. She shot a glance at he and Harvey and waved them over distractedly.

"You know who I heard suggested the dance?" The two had stopped by the board, Harvey looking wary of going into a crowd of girls and Ron waiting for Harvey to leave.

"Who?" he asked, not really caring.

"Snape. He told Dumbledore he thought it would be a good idea to give a dance to the students, since we can't go to Hogsmeade this year because of the train station getting destroyed. You know, too dangerous." Harvey's eyes got suddenly darker at this.

"Really," commented Ron. Snape. That was utter bullshit if he'd ever heard it. Where did Williams get this stuff?

Ginny's friends had left her now, and she was looking over at them, gesturing wildly. Harvey started over to her, but Ron just gave a polite little wave. He couldn't go to dinner tonight. He had some other things to tend to.

"Harvey, who are you going to the dance as?"

Harvey smiled widely. "Sir Cadogan," he said.

It took all of Ron's willpower to spin around and turn the corner before he burst out laughing.

-----

Ginny frowned when her older brother disappeared around a corner, only half-interested in the kiss Harvey gave her on the cheek. "He's not coming to dinner?" she asked, curious.

Harvey shrugged.

The scarlet-haired sixth year had been a little worried about Ron all year. The teen didn't seem quite as depressed as before, though. He was at least talking to Harry and Hermione again, if only ocassionally.

At first, the girl had thought her brother was upset only about the horrid train station business, but then she'd thought back and realized his mysterious funk had been going on even before that.

Ginny was sure the funk wasn't about fifth year. Ron had seemed genuinly happy after the winter break fiasco. He'd enjoyed his classes, walked with a spring in his step, joked more frequently than usual... Heck, he hadn't even kept up his old rivalry with Malfoy after that break. The two had become almost friendly to each other for a while, and though she hadn't noticed them being quite that friendly anymore, they certainly hadn't had any vicious fights or-

Ginny blinked. She thought back to her fourth year, right after she'd broken up with Harvey. Right after all that Macnair mess. She had watched as Ron and Malfoy had passed each other in the Dining Hall; had seen Draco flash Ron a smile.

Ginny blinked again.

/No./

/No WAY./

Grabbing Harvey's hand, Ginny pulled her boyfriend towards the Great Hall. "We have to discuss that costume of yours, Harv. I really don't like it."

The Ravenclaw frowned. "You know, there's a really brave and noble story behind that Sir Cadogan-"

"He's a stupid little knight portrait," said Ginny.

-----

Hermione sat near the back of the library. She had her back to a large, picture window. Sunbeams danced around the smooth, wooden tables and wobbly, overstacked bookshelves. Her level seven Transfiguration text lay open to page ninety-two, and she held a quill poised over a fresh length of parchment.

But she wasn't moving.

Her eyes seemed to be glazing over slightly; her mouth somewhat agape. She didn't look as if she was aware of anything around her.

"Hey Herm," said Ron, softly. The girl jumped, snapping out of her stupor. "Studying too much?" The redhead took a seat next to his friend, swinging his own overloaded bookbag up onto the table so that it rested next to the one already there.

He'd had a feeling he would find Hermione here. It seemed she was always in the library, or by the lake, or in her dorm, studying away. And who could blame her, when she was taking what seemed like five hundred classes?

Hermione looked at him and smiled, shaking her head as if to clear it. "Yeah. I'm turning into a study zombie." She put down her quill and slammed her Transfiguration book shut before opening her bag to dig around for something else. "Did you need some help with your homework?"

"No," answered Ron, even though he probably did. He hadn't even thought about his weekend homework yet. He believed homework given on Friday's was best left for late Sunday night, when it could be done hurridely and while half-asleep.

"I need to talk to you about Harry," he said, just as Hermione was pulling out a rather thick History of Magic textbook from her bag. "I...I guess I'm kind of worried about him."

The girl looked suddenly alarmed. "Worried? What's wrong?"

Ron shook his head, trying to reassure her. "I just mean he's been jumping at every little thing. He wants to do something about the station attack. He wants to prevent another train station attack, but he's not getting anywhere."

Eyes sad, Hermione nodded. "Well, he can't really do anything, can he? I mean, he's stuck here at school, and Voldemort isn't bothering with him right now." A pause. "I'll bet he feels kind of useless."

Ron ran his palms across the slick surface of the wooden table and nodded. "Voldemort didn't mess with him sixth year, after Sirius...I think he was starting to feel comfortable. He started to go out with Cho, work on being an Auror, and now the attack happened and-"

"He feels guilty about letting his guard down," finished Hermione, frowning. She hadn't opened her book yet, her thoughts apparently too focused on her troubled friend.

"Right." Ron leaned forward, stressed and a little guilty himself. "And we're not even there for him, like we were all those other years. We three aren't as close as we used to be, Herm. I'm worried Harry might get himself hurt." He leaned back into the hard chair. He didn't like dealing with this; talking about something so heavy. It wasn't like him. He was used to being the joker, the sidekick...But it had to be done.

Hermione looked suddenly on the verge of tears. She looked down at her book. "So, we should help him, right? Like old times?" She looked up, and now her face was set with determination. "Why can't it be like old times?" she asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "All we have to do is be there for him more, Ron. Help him out. Just like we always have."

Ron knew he'd come to the girl for a reason. She was brilliant. She was right. Why had he been so worried? The trio hadn't been out-and-out ignoring each other like they had at the start of the year. They were already getting closer again. So it should be no problem to weasel their way back into Harry's everyday life. No problem at all.

"That's right," Hermione was saying. She slammed a fist down on her book and a few Hufflepuffs turned to shush her. "We'll be there for Harry, now. It isn't as if we have anything else pressing to worry about."

And then Ron was thinking about Draco, and about the spider attack, and about the conversation between Malfoy and Harry that someone had overheard just before that attack.

"What?" asked Hermione. Ron figured he had a peculiar look on his face. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Ron grinned. "You're right."

-----

Draco went in for the metaphorical kill on the night before the Halloween dance. After classes, when dinner was done and everyone was chattering excitedly in their common rooms about what costume they were planning to wear and how wicked the band The Wicked was going to be, the blonde gave his fellow Slytherins some nonsense excuse ("Really, Pansy. I don't need your help. I feel ill enough to go to the hostpital wing, but not ill enough that I need help to get there.") and managed to slip away.

He really didn't have any concrete plan, and he wasn't completely sure he'd find Ron wandering the castle's halls, but it didn't really matter. Because he wanted to find Ron, and do things to Ron, and Ron was his.

And that was enough motivation to get him going, despite the possible roadblocks.

He headed for the library first, thinking that maybe Granger had managed to force the redhead into studying something. But when he got there the light was dim, and Madam Pince was nowhere in sight. He peeked in a couple of times, just to be sure, but left quickly when the stone gargoyle statues gaurding the entrance started giving him strange looks.

Next, he went to the Owlery. Then to the long corridor that led to the Gryffindor's common room. He was losing hope, thinking that maybe he didn't really know Ron anymore. Sure, the Gryffindor had snuck around a lot before, when they'd been going out. But perhaps he'd given it up.

Finally, Draco decided to call it quits for the night, mulling over the chances that he'd see his little red (Ron, he reminded himself) at the dance the next day. He realized he was hungry and changed his course a little, heading for the kitchens.

Ron was standing next to the portrait that was the secret entrance to the kitchens, just about to tickle the pear, when Draco turned the corner.

The redhead squeaked and looked guilty. "I was just-" He stopped, probably realizing who it was he was staring at. "Oh. You."

The blonde got angry at that. He clenched his teeth and walked determinedly over to the Gryffindor. "Yes, me." A deep breath. "I need to talk to you, Ron."

"Again? I know what's going on, Draco. I think you've talked to me enough. I mean, I'm thankful for you saving me from that spider, but-"

The Slytherin stepped closer; grabbed his elbow. "What's the problem, then? You know why I broke it off between us. It wasn't because I didn't like you anymore. Why can't it be like before? Like in sixth year? Ron-"

The teen's eyes were suddenly round, the blue orbs shockingly beautiful. He pulled his elbow from Draco's grip and ran a hand through his bright, red hair nervously. "Before?" he asked, and he sounded so hopeful and looked so good that the Slytherin had to swallow back his emotions and consciously restrain himself from grabbing the boy and devouring him on the spot.

-----

"Before?" he asked. He looked up at Draco, hopeful.

The blonde licked his lips; looked strained. It was as if he was trying to hold something back. Trying to contain himself. Ron knew that look.

They shouldn't get back together, really. And not only because Ron was afraid he'd get hurt again, but because of the danger involved. With Draco a spy for the Order...Well, it just wasn't a good situation. It would be safer just to give up and go their seperate ways. Safer to forget about each other.

He looked at Draco again. His slim, yet muscled form. Feathery hair. Brilliant, light eyes. Eyes that looked sad now; unsure.

/When hasn't our relationship been a risk?/ thought Ron, before grabbing the taller teen's shoulders and forcing him down for a kiss.

It felt good, familiar, and new all at the same time.

They walked backwards, Draco's tongue thrusting into Ron's mouth, until the redhead's back was up against the stone wall. The blonde's hands traveled down until they were gripping Ron's hips, his strong fingers digging in possessively.

Ron gasped a breathy protest when Draco stopped the kiss. The blonde nipped at his bottom lip playfully before pulling away. The teen moved down until Ron felt hot breath on that juncture between his neck and shoulder.

God, he remembered how much the Slytherin had liked that spot before. It was as if he wanted to brand Ron; remind him who he belonged to.

Ron didn't mind it at all.

The redhead brought his own hands up when he felt Draco's tongue against his skin. He had one hand full of Draco's shirt and another gripping the back of his neck when he felt teeth, and suction. He held back a moan, only faintly realizing he'd probably have a hickey from hell the next day.

And then Draco's leg nudged his legs, and the blonde's knee was between his thighs. And still, Draco was sucking at that spot, and-

"I suppose this is your idea of staying away from Potter and his friends, Mr. Malfoy?"

They pulled apart so quickly it left Ron's head spinning. He straightened; tried to get a hold of himself and stop the hot flush covering his cheeks. Finally, he focused. Gasped. Shot a horrified look at Malfoy.

"Hello, Professor Snape," said the blonde.

Snape just scowled.