BROKEN

Author: Harikari (Formerly Known As Nox2)

Notes: Here's number nine. --Gets hit in the head with a tomato-- Ow. Okay, I deserved that. No updates for months. I'm x-tremely sorry! All my excuses can be read on my bio page. Thanks to everyone who has R & R'd! I live for feedback. Only about three chapters to go after this one (this is the chapter that wouldn't end). Now on with the fic...

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

Part Nine:

Ron noticed that Snape had his wand out. The Professor had a murderous look on his face, but wasn't moving or saying anything, so the redhead began to fidget. He couldn't help it. He started to pull at the frayed edges of his shirt and shoot nervous, sideways glances at Draco. He stopped a second later when Snape shot him an even more murderous look.

"Malfoy," said the man, and it seemed as if he was struggling to keep his temper in check.

When the blonde spoke, his voice was steady. "He knows."

"What!" The greasy-haired instructor gripped his wand more tightly. It seemed to Ron, for a moment, like the man was going to use his wand. Like he already had the perfect spell to use on the both of them on the tip of his tongue.

But that was ridiculous. Snape wouldn't do that. He was a jerk, not a Death Eater. Well, not a real Death Eater.

Ron backed up a little.

"Ron knows about me," repeated Draco. The Slytherin was calm. He had that haughty, I-don't-give-a-shit, oh-so-Malfoy look on his face. As if getting caught snogging with another boy, a Gryffindor boy, was no big deal. As if the fact that Snape had just discovered he'd betrayed the Order by telling Ron about his role in the organization didn't bother him at all.

Maybe it didn't, but the redhead doubted it.

"Are you daft? Of all the-" The professor stopped, his wand coming up to point threateningly at the two teens. "I should've known one of Potter's little cronies would be sniffing around. What have you got on Malfoy, Mr. Weasley?"

"I think you've just witnessed for yourself what we've got on each other, Professor." Draco was glaring, and was standing so that he was between Snape and Ron.

"You utter fool! I had big plans for you, Draco. I swear, I'll...I'll..." His wand hand was shaking, his dark eyes gleaming with anger. Sparks of energy began to dance along the thin piece of wood, he opened his mouth-

"What seems to be the problem here, Severus?"

The sparks of powerful magic disappeared, the wand went down, and the two teens let out little sighs of relief. "Professor McGonagall!" shouted Ron, who had been tense with fear. He wondered what was wrong with Snape. Had the man really been that furious?

The redhead noticed his hands were shaking, and balled them into fists.

Snape looked stunned for a moment. "They were out of their beds, Minerva. And curfew...," the greasy-haired instructor trailed off lamely.

McGonagall shot them all curious looks. "Right. And trying to sneak into the kitchens, it seems. Fifty points from both of your Houses. Get to bed." When the teens hesitated, she made shooing gestures with her hands. "Bed. Now."

Ron didn't voice his opinion that fifty points was pretty steep for a little night outing, because he thought McGonagall's method of discipline seemed loads better than whatever Snape had planned to do with them.

He turned tail and walked to the stairs, Draco drifting away from him to head for the dungeons.

/Well/ thought Ron, watching as the platinum head of hair disappeared into the darkness. /That was...odd./

Scary odd.

-----

"Have you seen them?" Harvey slid into the vacant seat next to Ginny and ignored the slightly annoyed looks he got from some surrounding Gryffindors. The scarlet haired girl was picking at her food, and it didn't seem as if she'd heard his question.

"Gin, have you seen them?"

Ginny looked up, startled. "Oh, hullo Harvey. Have I seen who?"

Grabbing some bread from his girlfriend's tray, Harvey frowned. "The Wicked. They're here, but the Headmaster is trying to keep them hidden until tonight. Some Hufflepuffs said they saw the lead singer."

"Oh. No." Ginny, looking troubled, pushed her lunch away. Harvey snatched the tray and began to dig in before it could disappear. "Harvey, I've gotta' ask you something, and you have to tell me the truth."

Harvey paused, a forkful of food halfway to his mouth. He'd thought the girl had been acting a little off lately. What was wrong with her? What was she going to ask? "Er...Huh?"

Her troubled look disappeared, only to quickly be replaced by a determined scowl. "What do you know about Malfoy and my brother?"

Harvey's fork dropped to the tray with a thunk. If he'd had anything in his mouth, he might've choked. As it was, he grew wide-eyed; his jaw hung open in surprise. "Huh?"

Ginny was looking at him, her eyes seemingly flaming. "In our fourth year you blackmailed Ron into having a duel with you the night Macnair kidnapped him. What did you blackmail him about?"

Harvey could feel himself begin to sweat. He'd felt guilty about threatening Ron into a duel two years ago, and he'd never told anyone that he'd walked in on Draco and Ron during a heated conversation about their relationship. A kissing relationship. After Macnair he'd never thought about telling anyone; it wasn't his place.

And then there was the fact that he'd just recently reassured Ron, who'd become a good friend, that he would never tell anyone about his relationship with the Slytherin.

Harvey decided to play dumb. "What?" At Ginny's scary look, he went on nervously. "I...Uh, I don't remember."

"You don't remember?" The youngest Weasley looked dangerous. "Tell me, Harvey," she said warningly.

Harvey feigned anger. "Geez Gin, I told you I don't remember. Why are you asking, anyway?"

At this, the girl seemed to sober. "No reason. It's just...I'm a little worried about Ron, and I thought...Well, it isn't important." It was her turn to look nervous. She shifted in her seat and grabbed for her knapsack. "Guess we better head for class, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," said Harvey, getting up from the Gryffindor dining table and feeling more than a little guilty. He grabbed his own bag, and as they walked away he started up a conversation about that night's dance in order to take his mind off of Ron and Draco.

He tried not to wonder why Ginny seemed worried about her brother. He thought about the spider attack earlier that year, about Draco pushing Ron out of the way, and tried not to worry himself.

The Wicked started with a bang - literally.

The band popped out of thin air, instruments in hand and dressed up in outrageous outfits that made the Professors frown and the students cheer. Glittery confetti, beams of neon light, and a loud explosion all accompanied the band during their entrance. The lead singer yelled a hello and launched immediately into The Wicked's most popular song.

The Great Hall had been completely transformed for the dance. Instead of the long House dining tables there were smaller, round tables. The dance was only just starting, so only a few students sat around the tables. Most were jumping up and down on the dance floor in front of the band's stage, or poking around the well-stocked refreshment tables.

Ron stood near the doors, frowning and pulling at the collar of his Quidditch outfit. He hadn't wanted to dress up, really. But he figured being uncomfortable for a few hours was probably better than sticking out like a sore thumb (pretty much everybody had dressed up as something), or being called a wet blanket. So he'd thrown on his worn Quidditch outfit, planning to tell anyone who asked that he was a star player.

Yeah. He was clever.

"Harry!" he shouted, spotting his friend. Harry's hair had been charmed orange, his robes a deep black. He looked distracted and none too happy.

Ron turned and headed towards him, into the quiet of the Entrance Hall. The shouting and singing of the Dining Hall sounded suddenly muffled and faint. The redhead wrung his hands nervously as he waited for Harry to descend the stairs.

"Hullo, Ron." Harry stopped by his friend and peered into the doors that lead to the dance. "Hasn't it started yet?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you."

At that, Harry looked at him, his green eyes wide and alarmed behind his glasses. "What? Has something else happened?" He ran a hand through his hair and began to pace. "God, I'm sorry Ron. I've been so busy with the train station-"

"No," Ron cut him off. "Nothing's happened. I just want to talk."

"Oh." Harry stopped in front of him. "Okay. What is it, then?"

Ron cleared his throat, buying time. He then bit at his lip, trying to think of what words to use and how to say it...

/Bloody hell/ thought Ron. He didn't know a thing when it came to having heart to hearts. What was it that Hermione had said? She always put things so well...He got lost in his thoughts, wishing Hermione was there to help him out.

"Ron?" asked Harry.

Ron looked up. "Hermione!"

The girl was standing next to the statue of a rather horrid looking witch, facing the wall. Lost in his thoughts, Ron hadn't even heard the girl come down the stairs. She must've spotted him talking to Harry and decided not to interrupt.

"Hermione!" Ron said again, a little louder and quite desperate for some help. Hermione turned away from the wall, blinked, and then came over smiling.

"Hullo," she said. "I didn't want to bother-"

"I told Harry that we needed to talk to him," interrupted the redhead. And, feeling a bit more brave with the girl at his side, he continued. "Harry, we've noticed how you've been acting and, well, if you need help with anything, anything at all, just ask us. We don't want you getting hurt."

Okay, so not the most gentle or clear way to put it, but Harry must've got his meaning because the brunette smiled and his eyes softened and he nodded. "Thanks," he said, and for a moment it looked like he wanted to pull them both in for a hug. "Thanks, you guys."

"Let's dance," said Hermione, grinning. The music had become louder, the shouts coming from inside the dining hall more excited. Ron looked at his friend and realized she was wearing a costume. She had on a long, sparkling white gown. Most of her hair was up, and she was wearing makeup that seemed to make her skin glow. But the most noticeable, and best part about her costume were the two, translucent wings. They weren't attached to her; just hovering there at her back and flapping occasionaly.

She was dressed as an angel.

"Yeah," grinned Ron, looking at the charmed-on wings with a sort of awe. "Let's."

The Trio walked through the doors and into the midst of the dance.

Draco had decided not to wear anything special to the dance. He left the common room five minutes after all of the other Slytherins, so as to be fashionably late. He spent the extra time smoothing down his shirt and gazing into the large, inactive fireplace.

He had a bad feeling. Like something horrid was going to happen. But he figured it might just be the whole spider incident, the palpable tension in the air that had been there ever since Voldermort's attack on the station, or the soup he'd had for lunch. So, being the reasonable Slytherin he was, he tried to shake the feeling off.

Telling himself he was being paranoid, he hurried up out of the dungeouns and towards the dining hall. Even before he reached the Entrance Hall he could hear the music. It was loud, and pounding, and made his teeth clatter in his mouth. He was more accustomed to small dinner parties with his father's less-than-wholesome business partners. Despite the nauseauting music and the pressing crowd, the dance would be a nice change. And, of course, Ron would be there. The redhead was always a plus.

He entered the Hall and was immediately assaulted with harsh, bright lights and a thick, choking smoke. The blonde coughed and sputtered, though none of the other students seemed to think that The Wicked's special effects were a bit much.

A mass of bodies had gathered around the stage, jumping up and down and shouting with excitement. Most everyone was dressed up, and Draco wondered if he should've dawned some more festive apparel.

His eyes swept the Hall, looking for Ron. First, he spotted Pansy and the other Slytherins. They were all huddled in a corner, drinking spiced pumpkin juice and shooting occassional mean looks at the crowd gathered around the band. Next, he saw Professor Snape, glowering and standing next to a pleased looking Professor Flitwick. The little wizard seemed to be trying to engage the greasy-haired man in conversation. Draco, not feeling like dealing with what was sure to be a horrid confrontation, turned his eyes away.

He'd just spotted Ron's red hair when someone nudged him from behind. He stumbled, cursed, and spun around with a glare on his face. "Er...Sorry," said Harvey, nervously.

"Watch where you're going, Williams." Draco eyed the Ravenclaw, taking in the ridiculous costume he was wearing. He was dressed in a poor excuse for a suit of armor. It was a wonder the blonde hadn't heard the teen coming a mile away, with all that metal clanging together. Hell, it was a wonder Harvey could walk at all. Draco fought back a laugh that was quickly bubbling up in his throat. The other Slytherins, and the already pissed off Snape might be watching. He had to appear as cold-hearted and ruthless as possible. "What the hell are you wearing?" he asked, trying to make himself sound insulting rather than curious. It wasn't hard, as he'd had a lot of practice over the years.

Williams didn't seem to mind the rude tone. He grinned widely. "I'm Sir Cadogen," he replied. "Isn't it wicked?"

"Wicked certainly isn't the word I would use," put in a decidedly angry female voice. It was Ginny. She took a stance next to her boyfriend's shoulder, eyeing him coldly. She was holding a fizzing red drink in one hand, and a ghost-shaped pastry in the other. Harvey, who hadn't noticed the threatening look and tone, grabbed the pastry and took a huge bite. "Why did you wear that, Harv? When I asked you not to?"

Harvey blinked and chewed the pastry.

Draco, deciding he'd heard enough of the quarrel, turned to leave. "Malfoy. Uh, Draco. Can I ask you something?"

"What?" asked the blonde, turning back around. He was more than a little surprised at Ginny's question. What could the girl possibly have to ask him?

She shifted from foot to foot, her dress swishing. Draco couldn't tell what she was dressed as. An oversized pixie, maybe? The scarlet-haired girl pointed towards the spot where her brother and Harry stood, chatting and laughing. "Ron's over there."

The blonde straightened, worried that she'd obviously noticed he was headed that way. "So?" he growled.

"I just figured you'd be looking for him." A pause. "You were, weren't you?" She had fire in her eyes now. She was eyeing Draco, as if sizing him up. As if she knew something. As if she-

Draco blinked; took a step backwards. /No. No way./ She couldn't know about he and Ron. There was no way. Had they been that obvious about it? That thought sent a chill up the blonde's spine. If Ginny knew, then the other Slytherins might know. And if the Slytherins knew, then his father knew.

"Wha...," he started, before trailing off. He shot a worried look at Harvey, who seemed to be oblivious to the situation. Surely he hadn't told Ginny. Why would he? Williams had known about he and Ron since their fifth year, and had never said a word.

Draco straightened his posture and narrowed his eyes. Maybe she didn't know. Maybe she just suspected. He could remedy that. Probably. "What are you talking about, Weasley?"

She shot a surprised look at her brother; turned back to Draco. She opened and closed her mouth, as if unsure what to say. "I just thought...," she let the sentence die.

"See to it that your boyfriend doesn't bump into me again," he spat, easily slipping back into his old personality. The blonde gave Ginny a dark look before turning away, leaving the sixth year Gryffindor blinking and sputtering.

He walked further away from where Ron stood, just in order to disprove the girl's assumption. "Did you hear that?" he heard her ask. "Did you hear what he just said?"

"Yeah," Harvey answered. "Do you think he liked my costume?"

"Aren't you going to find Cho?"

Ron's question came as if from far away. Harry was busy looking at Hermione. The girl's wings were fluttering, and she was nodding her head to the music, although she didn't look as if she had any sense of beat. She was pushing her way through the crowd, looking distracted.

After chatting with her friends for a while, the girl had told them she was supposed to have met someone tonight, and had quickly left. "What is she doing?" asked Harry, ignoring the redhead's question. "Trying to dance?" He laughed, turning to look at his friend.

Ron was frowning. He shot a quick, unconcerned look Hermione's way before repeating himself. "Aren't you going to find Cho, Harry?"

"Why?" demanded Harry, a little hurt. "Do you have somewhere else to be, too?"

"No," replied Ron. And Harry took that moment to remember that his best friend couldn't be with the person he wanted to be with because that person was a double agent for the Order. "I was just wondering."

Feeling guilty, the brunette answered. "I don't think she wants me to find her, Ron. I've been ignoring her lately. And things were a little rough before that, anyway."

"Oh." Ron turned his gaze back to the crowd. Harry did too, and saw Hermione surrounded by numerous sixth and seventh year boys from numerous Houses. She was lost in a crowd of them, looking flustered and annoyed. The boys seemed oblivious to her plight, trying to get her to dance or talk. Ron snorted. "She'll never get to her date."

"Yeah," agreed Harry. "There's Draco."

Ron followed the direction of Harry's gaze. He caught sight of a familiar head of blonde hair and quickly turned away. "Yeah." He felt the anger he'd been feeling towards Draco since sixth year boiling beneath the surface. It was calmer now; less evident. The memory of last night, of Draco's lips on his, was still fresh. It made him feel hopeful and a little bitter at the same time. So they'd finally, in a sense, made up. But what did that matter when Draco was a spy for the Order? What did that matter as long as the war between light and dark was still raging, and Draco was in danger of being found out?

Harry must've sensed his unease, because he quickly changed the subject. "Where did you go last night?"

"Huh?"

Harry headed for the punch, motioning for Ron to follow. "I saw you weren't in bed."

This change of subject didn't make the redhead feel any better. He felt something akin to icy fingers making their way up his back, and fought the urge to shiver. "I went down to the kitchens."

Harry had helped himself to a cupful of some reddish, fizzing drink. "Oh."

Ron surprised himself by continuing. "I ran into Draco and-"

Harry barely avoided spitting out a mouthful of punch. "I'd rather not know," he admitted. Ron smacked him in the arm. "Ow."

"I wasn't going to tell you anything like that." Ron lowered his voice and leaned closer to his friend. "Snape caught us." Harry's eyes grew wide; his attention was suddenly fully on Ron. "Draco told Snape that I knew about him being a spy, and Snape went mad. I expected him to be upset, but he looked about ready to do a killing curse on both of us. He had his wand out and everything."

Harry put his punch on the table. "What happened?" A pause. "Did you two cast a funny charm on him or something? Turn him into a toad?" A funny little half-smile appeared on the brunettes face at this thought, but Ron shook his head.

"McGonagall saved us. Took fifty points away, though." The redhead frowned at this. "I swear Harry, Snape might've killed us if she hadn't come along." He reached for a cup to put his own punch in, but Harry dug rough fingers into his elbow and pulled. "Hey!"

Harry shushed him and came to a stop once they were in a secluded corner of the dining hall. "You said Snape was acting crazy? Like he was about to kill you?"

"That's what I said." Ron rubbed at the sore spots on his arm.

Harry frowned. "Malfoy works under Snape right? He reports to Snape for the Order?" The brunette was tense now; his green eyes kept darting around the room.

"Yeah. So?" Ron wasn't really following what his friend was saying. "Should we really be talking about this here, Harry?"

But Harry ignored him. "Snape works as a Death Eater too, right? And he's supposed to report what he knows as a Death Eater to Dumbledore and the Order?"

Ron chewed at his bottom lip, wondering if maybe Harry had already managed to work himself loony. If only they hadn't been so distant at the beginning of the year...Harry shook him so hard his teeth rattled.

"Ron, don't you see? Death Eaters attacked the train station." His voice had gotten a little louder; the redhead hoped nobody had noticed them.

"Yeah, they did. And that was horrible, Harry. But you can't work yourself to death trying to get revenge-"

"NO!" Startled party goers looked over at them. Harry managed a nervous smile before turning back to Ron and lowering his voice considerably. "If Snape is an undercover Death Eater, and Death Eaters attacked the train station, then how come he didn't tell Dumbledore before it happened? How come he didn't stop it?"

Ron's breath got caught in his throat. He stared wide-eyed at his friend. "You're not saying...?"

Harry gripped his shoulder. "Snape's not a double agent working for the Order, Ron. He's still working for Voldemort."

Draco lounged against the wall, nursing a cup of punch and resisting the temptation to bob his head to the beat of the music. The Wicked was playing something soft now, and some couples had made their way out onto the dance floor.

The blonde carefully didn't look at the couples. His eyes darted around as he tried to find something less upsetting to watch; his gaze fell on Snape. The Professor's glare seemed to cut right through him, and Draco turned away.

In a secluded corner of the Hall he could make out Harry and Ron talking. Their heads were close together, and they appeared to be whispering.

"NO!" Harry's scream could be heard even over the sound of the band playing. Draco pushed away from the wall and frowned. What was the bespectacled boy shouting about? What had gotten him so upset?

After only another minute of standing around doing nothing the blonde couldn't take it anymore. He had to know what Harry had shouted at Ron about. Hell, he just had to see Ron. He made his way towards the Hall's exit. He'd made it to the doors and was trying to catch Ron's eye when someone bumped into his shoulder from behind.

He turned. Pansy blinked at him. "Oh," she finally said. "Sorry Draco." Some of her spiced pumpkin juice had spilled and was dripping its way down her hand. "We were looking for you. Goyle and Crabbe are over there in the corner. We're making fun of all the dullards here. Come on." She grabbed his arm.

"Wait. Pansy, do something for me?" As his role with the Slytherins required, it was more an order than a suggestion.

"What?" she asked, intrigued. She'd followed his gaze to where Ron and Harry were standing in the corner.

"Tell the Weasel that I noticed he's not even good enough for his mudblood girlfriend anymore." He eyed Hermione, who was surrounded by boys and who was looking increasingly annoyed. Pansy grinned at him. "Just tell him that. I'll meet you guys in the corner in a minute."

He watched as the Slytherin girl pushed her way through the crowd towards the two Gryffindors. She stopped in front of them and gestured in Draco's direction, then took off snickering. Pale faced, both Harry and Ron looked up to meet his eyes.

Good, he'd gotten their attention. Draco made a small come here gesture with his head. /Follow me, he thought encouragingly, before disappearing through the doors.

"That was a little over the top," muttered Ron. "He didn't have to tell her to say that."

Harry ignored the hurt look on the redhead's face and pushed at his shoulder. "Go. Tell him what I told you. But be careful. I'll watch Snape to make sure he doesn't follow you."

Ron pursed his lips and gave his friend a concerned, searching look. Then he nodded. "Okay. But I'll be right back."

"Sure you will," said Harry. Ron turned away and didn't see him roll his eyes.

The brunette watched until his friend had disappeared behind the Hall doors, then let out a deep sigh. He looked around and spotted Snape, who was standing next to Flitwick. He'd watch the greasy Professor like a hawk. No way was he going to let him go after Ron and Malfoy. If Snape had aided in the train station attack, then it was more than likely he had been the one to overhear the hallway conversation, and the one to trigger the spider attack against the Magical Creatures class.

Bloody hell, he had tried to kill Ron and Malfoy last night. There was almost no doubt that Snape was still working for Voldemort; that he'd aided in the station attack and was causing all the trouble around Hogwarts.

Harry straightened his posture and narrowed his eyes. No. No way would he take his eyes off that scum for even a moment. Not for anything in the world.

"Hey, Harry."

Harry turned.

"I was wondering if we could talk?"

"Uh...Yeah. Sure, Cho."

The Entrance Hall was empty except for Draco, who was tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. Ron saw that the blonde had a half-full cup of fizzy punch in his hand and grabbed it. He swallowed it all down before letting the empty cup drop to the floor. He was too on edge to worry about things like common courtesy at the moment.

"What's up?" he asked. Draco eyed him before bringing a hand up to grip Ron's jaw. He leaned down and touched his mouth to the redhead's. His tongue came out and licked over Ron's lips; he let out a quiet mmmm before pulling away, and the Gryffindor realized he'd been licking the punch away.

"You tell me," said the blonde. "What was Potter yelling about?"

Ron tensed. "Snape," he said. "We think Snape is the one who...did everything." He looked around, not liking the idea of standing just outside the dining hall and discussing what a super-evil Death Eater had done.

Draco nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me everything," he said.

The steady bump, bump of The Wicked's music could be heard through the doors. "Let's walk," replied Ron.

By the time Ron had finished ranting about all of his and Harry's suspicions about Snape, the two seventh years had walked the grounds and ended up outside of Hagrid's hut. The hut was completely dark and deserted, as Hagrid was helping to chaperone the party. "I don't know," finished the redhead. "Harry and I have been wrong about Snape before. I don't get how he couldn't have gotten caught yet. And why isn't Dumbledore suspicious about the station attack?"

Draco leaned back against the single, gigantic pumpkin sitting in the groundskeeper's yard. "Some of it makes sense," conceded the Slytherin. "But you and I have been wrong before, too." He grinned so that his teeth were showing, and the redhead grinned back.

"I guess we shouldn't be out here alone, if something's going on." Ron stared around; listened closely to the sounds of the nearby forest. He half-expected to see a mysterious cloaked figure standing in the distance, staring at them. But, no. That was in the past. He buried his face into Draco's shoulder, then tilted his head up so that his warm breath brushed across the blonde's neck. After a moment he tried to pull away, but Draco's strong arm snaked around his back and held him in place.

"What if nothing is going on? What if the person Potter and I saw in the hallway was just someone walking to their House? What if those spiders were a freak accident? This isn't like fifth year. We could all just be paranoid about the train station attack." But doubt filled Draco's eyes, even as he spoke. "Nothing has happened to tell us for sure that someone is after us."

And just then, the gigantic pumpkin exploded and a raging circle of fire rose up around the two seventh years, trapping them.