"Ron, stop being rude!" Mrs. Weasley chided, glaring at her son. "You know perfectly well that this is hard on everyone, but blaming people isn't going to make anything better, and I think we should focus on the fact that we're all alive and safe, thanks to Harry."

Ron didn't respond to this statement but slowly turned his chair away from the table so that the rest of the family was looking at his back, and Mrs. Weasley sighed in frustration. "Well then," she continued, "I assume that you no longer wish to be a part of this conversation, so you can leave until you find a way to make some serious attitude adjustments."

Ron snorted sarcastically. "Brilliant observation, mum," he said darkly and jumped up from his chair to slam into the other room, where Harry heard him collide with something and then swear loudly.

Mrs. Weasley looked away tearfully, and Harry shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to say in the awkward silence. Mr. Weasley saved him the trouble.

"Harry, why don't you go talk to him," he suggested quietly. "He won't listen to us, and you're his best friend. You know this kind of behavior really isn't like him, but he's probably just dealing with the shock of what's happened."

Mr. Weasley was referring to the events that had occurred earlier that morning, which undoubtedly would have left anyone in shock, but Harry knew guiltily that Ron was upset for a very different reason.

After reuniting with the rest of the family, Mr. Weasley had immediately investigated the threat that Harry had reported, and what he had discovered was far worse than any of them could have imagined.

Healer Brinkworth, whose portrait hung majestically on the wall of The Leaky Cauldron, was asked to visit his other portrait, which was conveniently located in the Weasley's kitchen, and he returned with the heart-breaking news that the Burrow was in ruins.

"I couldn't stay for long," he reported sadly. "My picture was nearly shattered on the floor, but what I did see is enough to tell you that the Burrow isn't the Burrow anymore. There's dark magic everywhere. I wouldn't recommend going near the place "

The Weasley's were devastated, but none more than Ron, who seemed quite willing to use the disaster as a tool to relentlessly make Harry feel guilty about the entire ordeal without even saying a single word.

"I…I, er…yes, of course I'll go talk to him…" Harry now stammered to Mr. Weasley, unsure of how to get out of the situation without making himself appear even guiltier than he already seemed. The elder Weasleys mercifully hadn't asked him about his source, but he could tell that they were suspicious. "I'll just…I'll just head in there now, and, see what I can do." He slowly rose from his seat and headed toward the other room, aware of Mr. Weasley's eyes on the back of his neck, and when he entered the sitting room, he saw Ron perched in an armchair by the window, moodily staring out at the busy street below.

He cleared his throat, and Ron looked up in annoyance.

"Go away," he snapped. "I have no interest in talking to you, or haven't you noticed?"

"How could I not?" Harry replied. "The word glacial comes to mind…"

"Then take the bloody hint, why don't you?" Ron spat, turning away again, but Harry closed the door and walked over to his friend, taking the seat next to him.

"Ron, he saved your life. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Malfoy. He really went out on a limb for you, you know."

"You've told me this already," Ron interjected. "I don't know how to make it any clearer that I don't give a damn."

Harry sighed, mentally forcing himself to remain calm.

"You're sitting here right now because of Draco Malfoy, and you know that's true. He could be killed for what he did. The Death Eaters already suspect him."

Ron smirked unpleasantly and stared at Harry with a grim expression.

"Oh, excuse me while a shed a tear," he said sarcastically. "I mean, come ON Harry. This is Malfoy we're talking out, MALFOY."

Harry kept his tone as even as he could.

"He's different now, Ron. I mean…I know better than anyone how he used to be, so shouldn't I know better than anyone what he is now?"

Ron pursed his lips together tightly and shook his head in incredulousness.

"I don't get it, Harry," he muttered. "I mean, are you gay? That doesn't even make any sense. And it's not really important. I guess. But, Malfoy? What happened to your parents, Harry? To Sirius? Almost to me? NONE of them can be trusted. I thought you knew that."

His expression was so full of disappointment that Harry almost felt stung by it, and an immense feeling of sadness rose in the pit of his stomach.

"I don't really know what I am," he responded truthfully, looking down at the floor, "and I understand why you feel like this. Believe me, I understand, but please just try to hear me out, okay? I'd do the same for you."

Ron grunted in a non-committal way, and Harry took that as permission for him to continue speaking.

"I've learned things about Malfoy that I…well, that I never thought I would ever learn, things that I never would have believed to even be possible. He's…he's…well, he's been through a lot, a lot more than we ever gave him credit for, and…everything in his life, everything you hate him for, was planned out for him since, well, since birth I guess, but in the past few months, he's shown me how much he wants to change, and you wouldn't believe how far he's come. He's not the same person. Or maybe his is. Maybe he's exactly who he's always been, only now he's finally letting himself see who that really is. I mean, Ron, you KNOW me. You know I wouldn't put everything on the line for someone I didn't trust, and I DO trust him…and, well, he's a part of my life now, but I want YOU to be a part of it too. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose my best friend."

He broke off, and Ron shifted in his chair, looking unsure of what to do or say in response. Finally he turned to Harry, and his face looked slightly softer in the afternoon light.

"Harry, I don't care that you're gay, or…something. I'm not like that. It's just that he's a Death Eater," he said. "It's in his blood. That's what he's always going to be. I know that's not who you are, so just…just tell me you'll never see him again, and I will TRY to move past this."

"No!" Harry sputtered, feeling frustrated. "Ron, listen to yourself! If he can't call Hermione a mudblood, then you can't say being a Death Eater is in his blood. You are who you choose to be. That's something that I thought you would know."

There was an awkward silence, and Ron couldn't seem to find a retort. He looked down at his trainers and cleared his throat, avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Ron, I'm not asking for a miracle. I mean, I'm not asking you to be his friend. I'm just asking you to accept him…you know, from a distance. Can you try to do that? Can you just try?"

Ron sighed deeply.

"Harry…I can't. I can't trust him. I just…can't."

Harry felt something shatter inside of him, and he rose from his seat, knowing that he had said everything he could to change his friend's mind.

"Then…that's it, I guess," he said dejectedly. "But keep this is mind, Ron. Make sure that you're seeing the difference between what you want to be true and what actually is true. You don't like him. You don't want there to be good inside of him, because then everything you know is turned upsidown. If you were really my friend, you wouldn't be so selfish. You would at least give him a chance…for me."

He glanced once more at Ron's face and saw that it was twisted into an expression of confusion, as if he were fighting a battle in his mind.

Harry opened his mouth, but then closed it again, realizing that the ball wasn't in his court anymore, and that there was nothing left to say. He started walking toward the door.

"Harry, wait," Ron said quietly, and Harry turned, his heart speeding up a bit. "I…I've lost enough without losing you too." It looked as if it was taking every ounce of strength that he had to say those words. "I…well, I guess I can…I guess I can try."

Harry's breath caught in his throat.

"I thought you said that you couldn't believe him…that you couldn't trust him."

Ron looked up and met Harry's eyes.

"I thought you said I could."

-

"I'm extremely disappointed, Draco," Lucius said icily, glaring down at his son. "Your loyalty is faulty. I always knew you were an incompetent little fool."

Draco hung his head in humiliation.

"I will not have you ruin the reputation of this family, do you hear me? You don't deserve this, but you're getting a second chance."

Draco felt his breath catch in his throat, and fear started to creep through his body. In his world, a second chance usually ended up being less of an opportunity and more of a punishment.

"You will come with me," Lucius continued, "and you will undergo training until you learn to control your ridiculous fancies. You will not see anyone, and you will not communicate with anyone unless you have my explicit permission. You will be under constant supervision. Is that clear?"

Draco suddenly found himself having difficulty breathing. Every rational thought in his mind commanded him to nod his head obediently, but every emotion, every instinct, told him not to.

"I said, is that CLEAR, Draco," Lucius spat. "Answer me, you ungrateful, worthless, little brat."

But something curious was happening to Malfoy. He felt something inside of him snap. Slowly, he shook his head.

"No," he whispered, his legs shaking slightly. "No."

"What was that, boy?" Lucius demanded, and Draco took a step away from his father.

"I said no," he spoke more clearly, raising his head. "For once, you listen to me. Ever since I was little, ever since you started telling me that I wasn't good enough, I wanted to please you. I wanted to make you proud. I wanted to be half the man I thought you were. Most of all, I wanted to be accepted, to feel like I belong, and now, finally, I do. The thing is that it isn't here. It isn't with you. I'm never going to BE you. I'm never going to do the things that you've done, and saying that makes me twice the man that you will ever be."

"You insolent little-" Lucius raised a hand to strike his son, but Malfoy was quicker. He whipped his hand beneath his robes and pulled out his wand, aiming it at his father.

"You wouldn't dare," Lucius sneered, but Malfoy held his gaze.

"Try me."

"You have nowhere to go, you stupid boy. You won't last five minutes before the Death Eaters find you."

Malfoy shrugged.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

Without another word, Draco turned and sprinted towards the door. Once outside, he continued to run, unsure of where he was going or what he was going to do. He simply…ran, disappearing into the darkness of the night.