Another odd thing was the fact that Ron had said his name when he came. Draco's name. Now why would he do that? He obviously hated Malfoy. And wasn't it supposed to be the name of your lover that you shouted? Why hadn't he shouted Granger's name? Or Potter's name? He drew invisible patterns on the desk, still idly wondering...
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That morning, Ron had gotten reluctantly out of bed, feeling dirty and worthless and used. He had considered pretending to be sick, but then he'd have had to go to the hospital wing. All day he had been much quieter than his usual self, with his eyes glazed and a dull expression on his face. When Harry had asked him why he hadn't met up with them in Hogsmeade, he had halfheartedly muttered something about not feeling well. His friends were starting to worry.
When the bell rang, Ron was staring dully out of the window in the Divination classroom. He didn't seem to notice that class had ended until Harry shook his shoulder. "C'mon, Ron. We can't be late - we've got Potions next. Snape'll kill us." Ron's face blanched. He felt nauseous. He couldn't face Malfoy - not after what the Slytherin had done to him. After what Ron allowed him to do. He couldn't.
"Ron? Seriously, Ron, are you okay? You've been acting funny lately," Harry's concerned face swam before his eyes. He cleared his throat, forcing his panic back down into his chest.
"Uh... Yeh. I'm fine. Just a little sick from the fumes," he waved his hand in the air, pretending to fan away the sickly incense smoke that always hung around Trelawney's classroom. "Let's go, then." Harry looked at him doubtfully as the redhead shrugged his bag over his shoulder and starteddown the ladder leading out of the stuffy, circular room. Maybe he could get safely to Potions without Draco seeing him, Ron thought hopefully.
No such luck.
Malfoy was leaning against the entrance to the classroom, arms and legs crossed, his familiar smirk in place. Crabbe and Goyle stood on either side of him like bodyguards. Ron felt even more ill than before.
"Well, if it isn't Potty and the Weasel," he drawled coldly. Ron's blood ran cold with fear, scenes of the blonde's face above his on the dormroom floor flashing before his eyes. Draco's steely eyes flicked up and down Ron's body, the gesture seeming to say, I've seen that before, and it's all mine.
But maybe Ron was reading too much into it.
At any rate, in a moment the look was gone, and Draco was smirking at them in his usual way. Ron found himself shaking, his fists clenched. Harry looked at him, concerned.
"I hate you, Malfoy," Ron said through clenched teeth, his voice even icier than Draco's. Gray eyes widened, and Harry shot a confused look in Ron's direction. Everyone knew that Ron hated Malfoy. That wasn't a surprise - but usually it was shown with witty comebacks and insults. And Ron's voice - it was too... raw. Too emotional. The hallways was dead silent as people stared. The redhead shoved Malfoy aside and huried into the Potions classroom, Harry on his heels.
"Ron.. What was that all about?" Hermione, who had come up behind them and witnessed the outburst, said. Ron sat down at a desk, trying to keep from shaking.
"Nothing... I just don't feel like dealing with that git right now." He felt bad about not telling his friends, but how could he explain why he hadn't fought back? He couldn't even explain it to himself. Harry and Hermione didn't have time to argue with his explanation, because the bell rang and Snape made his usual dramatic entrance. Ron pretended to be extremely interested in the potion Snape was explaining, which you were supposed to douse a part of the body in to repair broken bones. He then pretended to be concentrating very hard on chopping up a dried newt, discouraging anyone from talking to him.
Which was when the worst possible thing - at least in Ron's mind - happened.
Pansy Parkinson, on her way to the student cupboard for some ingredients, knocked into Ron's desk, jostling his cauldron...
And spilling the potion all over Ron's leg.
Unfortunately, Ron wasn't much good at potions. Instead of having no effect at all (as his bones weren't broken), the leg went rigid, snapping up and locking in an outstretched position. Snape was there in an instant.
"My, my," he said in his creepy, breathy voice, "It seems that not only is Mr. Weasley a clumsy oaf, he's also incompetent. The potion is obviously incorrect. Fifteen points from Gryffindor." Ron didn't even bother to argue, just grit his teeth and glared at the floor. "And I don't have a potion to fix that here... Mr. Malfoy! Please escort Mr. Weasley to the hospital wing." Ron turned white as a sheet.
"Professor, can't Harry - " Snape glared menacingly at the redhead.
"I said, Mr. Malfoy," he said pointedly. "Five points from Gryffindor for talking back." Then he swept away, black robes billowing behind him. And there was Malfoy, grinning down at Ron in a way that certainly wasn't friendly.
"Come on then, Weasley," he drawled, holding out his hand. "As much as I hate to touch you..." A few Slytherins giggled. Had Ron not been terrified out of his wits, he would have rolled his eyes. Hate to touch him? As if. He shakily and reluctantly took Draco's outstretched hand, and allowed his arm to be pulled over the Slytherin's shoulders. His rigid leg was almost completely useless, so he would need some help walking.
They made their way down the corridor and up a flight of stairs, and Ron was starting to think that Draco wasn't going to do anything to him when he was slammed against the wall. He was off-balance because of his leg, and he had no time to fight back before the shorter boy's lips were crashing into his own, his wrists pinned against the stone behind his back. Malfoy's leg was between his, and he couldn't help but think, This isn't so bad, as Draco's tongue slid between his lips and probed his mouth.
Then he remembered what Malfoy had done to him. He roughly shoved the petite boy away from him, glaring as he slumped against the wall.
"Do - not - touch - me," he said dangerously, adjusting his robes. "Who do you think you are?"
"I already answered that question, Ron," Malfoy drawled. Ron winced at the use of his first name. "I'm Draco Malfoy." Ron's body was shaking slightly, still stunned and tingling from Malfoy's kiss.
"Why do you keep doing this?" He asked before he could stop himself, in a quiet, vulnerable voice. He shouldn't care why, he should just want it to stop! But deep down, he had to admit that he was curious. Albeit frightened. Malfoy looked surprised, and he had to consider a moment before answering.
"That's not important, Weasley," he sneered, stepping forward as his usual cold mask was slipped back on. Ron cringed at their nearness before realizing that he still needed Malfoy's help to walk. He grudgingly allowed Draco to take him up to the hospital wing, wincing every time their bodies bumped against each other.
Author's Note: Ewwww. What a crappy chapter that was. Eh. My heart's not really in this story anymore... I did this for you, my reviewers! Show your gratitude by giving me long, well-thought-out reviews. Or any kind of review at all, really. And read and review my other stories, too! Pwetty pwease?