"Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake." – Napoleon Bonaparte

CHAPTER THIRTY

In which Ron is (kind of) responsible and Draco has made a mistake…

September 29, 2003

Ron was being (kind of) responsible and (kind of) washing the dishes when he heard the knock at the door.

Knock Knock Knock.

Three very important-sounding, heavy knocks resonated through the kitchen.

"I'm coming!" he called and dropped the (kind of) clean plate back into his sink. "I'm coming."

The door opened with a (kind) of ominous creak and he looked out with (minimal) trepidation and (at least a little bit of) fear. (A very little bit.) There was no one there. He frowned and closed the door again, (almost) thinking nothing of it.

He turned back to the kitchen.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," someone behind him drawled.

Ron jumped. A lot and high. He jumped 180 degrees around until he was facing… A Mysterious Man in Black! (dun dun dun)

"Begag!" he said. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy!"

"Malfoy?" The Mysterious Man in black frowned.

"Oh, come off it! Do you really think that wearing a hat is going to disguise that vile little face of yours?"

"That is no way to talk to your superiors, Mr. Weasley," the-Mysterious-Man-in-Black-who-was-clearly-Draco-Malfoy said, very disappointed that his brilliant costume hadn't fooled anyone.

"Fine, have it your way." Ron turned about and stomped back into the kitchen. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, then? Or is this just what you normally do on Mondays, go around darkening innocent doorways?"

"I'm here to speak with you about a woman who has been staying here." The not-so-mysterious man in black said.

Ron groaned and rummaged in the cold closet.

"Ms…er…" Malfoy made a big show of reaching into a non-existent pocket and pulling out a very existent card. "Ms. Hermione Granger. I'd like to buy her."

Ron snapped to attention. "You'd what?"

"I'd like to buy her." Malfoy repeated, pulling a sharp black briefcase from behind him. "You have her, I want her, let's talk price."

"Wait… wait wait wait." Ron took a seat at the table. "I have her?"

"Not for long. How much are you asking?"

Ron cocked his head to side and tried to comprehend what Draco was asking. "Wait… you want to buy her? Like… with money?"

"Yes."

"Like… as a slave?"

"No no no…" Draco shook his head so fervently that his Mysterious Black Fedora almost fell off. "As my wife, of course!"

"But…" Ron momentarily contemplated the best way to explain common etiquette to a person who clearly knew nothing about it. "You can't just buy people. You can't buy a good relationship… it doesn't work like that!"
"You'll find, Mr. Weasley, that for the right price, anything can be bought."

"But—"

"I know, it's a mysterious concept to you. But I am prepared to give you one million galleons for the love of Ms. Granger."

"But—"

"Ten million, then."

Ron was suddenly struck with a very Slytherin-worthy idea. "Well… since you're drive such a hard bargain…"

"I knew you'd see the light. I'll have the money transferred to your Gringott's account the moment she says 'I do.'"

Draco turned to go, taking his briefcase with him.

Ron suddenly felt like a Very Bad Man. "Wait—" he said.

"I'm afraid I can't give you any more—"

"NO!" Ron snapped. "I don't want your sodding money! That would be stealing and while you might sell what isn't rightfully yours, I know my mother didn't raise me like that. Hermione hasn't loved me for three years, and you're daft for believing anything Rita Skeeter writes. Hermione never came back to me, ever, and if she's been driven away then you did that all yourself. Just… pretend this didn't happen or whatever you're gonna end up doing anyway."

He stood and turned back to the cold closet, which he'd left open. He rummaged about for a moment and re-emerged with a butterbeer, only to find that Draco had not left, as Ron had hoped he would, but had rather made himself comfortable at Ron's very own kitchen table, his hat placed modestly before him. "Yes?" he took the open seat and opened the bottle.

"Sh…" Draco turned the wide-eyed stare he'd not utilized since he was five on a very unimpressed Ron. "I'm contemplating the most painful ways to inflict near-death on one's self."

Ron didn't even try not to snort. "'Near-death'?"

"I'm too gormless for death. I'd probably botch it up somehow or another." He hid his face and watched the tabletop through his fingers.

"Hey, I know loads of people who'd love to help you die."

"Ha ha."
"And you're not really sulking. That would require you to actually care about something enough to miss it."

Draco looked indignant. "I care about a lot of things."

"I don't doubt it." Ron rolled his eyes and took a long, silence-filling sip from his bottle. "Money is, after all, a thing."

"Ha ha. That's very funny, Weasel." Draco sneered. "Keep it up and I'm going to care about putting poison in your toasting wine."

"That's very creative you know, Malfoy. If I didn't know any better I'd think you were witty."

"So you know better?" Draco scoffed. "So help me with this one: Less than twenty-four hours ago I verbally abused the witch I adore for doing something that, you tell me, she hadn't actually done. Less than twelve hours ago she went to visit me, presumably to kill me for being such a self-centered prat. She didn't find me and I came back to her place to attempt to win her back. And now I'm spilling my guts to a Weasley! What's happened to me?"

"Nothing." Ron laughed. "You're still the same, self-centered Malfoy. You're just not quite used to Hermione."

Something like an idea sparkled in the corner of Draco Malfoy's eyes. "And what," he started, "pray tell, would you do to win her back? You've known her longer than me, after all."

"No, I haven't."

"Oh, right." Draco frowned. "Still, any advice?"

Ron sighed. "Whenever we got in a fight, I'd always do something for her… something that reminded her why she loved me, or something. She said it better. In any case, all the things I did had something of her in them, to prove that I noticed things and listened and… all that other phony stuff that girls like to hear."

Draco cocked his head to the side, mulling it over. "So, I should do something?"

"You should do something huge."

"Huge?"

"Huge."