*Forgive my hiatus! I was so busy with school things that I couldn't write my fan fictions! Enjoy, guys!*

Chapter Eight

Draco's eyes ran over Ron's sleeping form while he softly intertwined his fingers in the gingery mop that hung over Ron' s closed sapphire eyes. He was worried about him. The corners of Draco's mouth turned down as his eyes roved over the bluish circles under Ron's eyes, the newly defined collarbones, the now-bony wrists, the weak fingers, the trembling limbs.

Draco turned to their alarm clock. 6:00 a.m., the clock read, red lights flashing in a way that could blind you if you looked long enough. He closed his eyes, laying his head back onto his pillow with a silent sigh. What has gotten into Ron lately? Draco shook his head, no idea how to answer the question he asked himself, and sat up to get out of bed. Ron still slept soundly, to his relief, so he left the room, closing the door carefully behind himself.

Unsure of what to do, he texted Ginny, who he knew would be up at this ungodly hour, getting ready for work.

Draco: I'm worried about Ronald. Something's off. Come over tonight?

Ginny: Whts wrng?

Draco rolled his eyes at her shorthand text language, but proceeded. Ron was more important than his pet peeves.

Draco: He hasn't been eating much, and it's always ridiculously healthy things. I haven't seen him eat a crisp or a biscuit in weeks.

Ginny: Diet?

Draco: It's more than that. Worse. He looks like death. Like I did when he and I first got together.

Ginny: Ill come 4, k?

Draco put his head in his hands, needing support. He wonders if it's his fault. He wonders what he can do to help him. He worries that he can't do anything, no one can do anything, and he'll have to watch Ron fade away slowly, but never completely, leaving a haunting shadow behind. Draco shook his head free of that morbid thought and stood to make himself some tea. He didn't let Ron see him drink tea; he thought it was haughty and overly-British of him.

After the kettle let out a quickly-stifled scream, Draco poured the steaming water into a mug and placed the little satchel of leaves in. Ron still slept. Draco had an idea. Maybe if he cooked breakfast, Ron would eat. Ron always made breakfast. Draco, smiling, sips his tea as he gets to work. Pancakes? Draco can't cook pancakes. Bacon? They have none. Omelets? Draco shrugs and pulls the yellow egg carton from the refrigerator, along with a carton of mushrooms and peppers

And, without fail, the scent of food awakens Ron Weasley, but that doesn't mean he was happy about it.

"Drac, wass all of'dis?" he grumbled sleepily, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Draco smiled, stood on tiptoe to kiss the ginger's nose, and scraped an omelet onto Ron's plate. "I woke up early and I made breakfast. I may be a spoiled brat but I can still make an omelet." He chuckled to himself, watching has Ron sat down, but refused to touch the food. His smile turned into a frown. "What's wong?"

"Not hungry," was the mumbled response, no hint of apology in his tone. Draco turned to the utterly messy kitchen he created, trying to impress this man that sat in front of him with no expression. He began to tear up. He could feel the pressure behind his eyes, feel his throat constrict, see his vision blur.

"I'm sorry," he said thickly before retreating into the bedroom. Ron's eyes watched as he ran away, slamming the door behind him.

Ron clenched his hands into fists. "Goddamn it!" He laid his head on the table. He made the man he loves cry on his quest to make him happy. He couldn't help but let tears glide down his face to collect on the table, leaving a small puddle. His hands trembled beside him. God, he felt weak. He stood to go talk to Draco but he decided that he should leave him alone, give him space. Instead, he wrote a note.

Going to the grocery. We need milk.

Love, Ron

He nodded with such a grave finality that anyone watching would think he just finished a great ballad, a tragic odyssey, a romantic love letter. Leaving the note behind, he alked out of the apartment, making sure to strengthen the spells on it to protect his Draco, who was still locked in the bedroom.

Oh Draco needed Ginny. Ginny would know what to do, wouldn't she? She is his sister, after all. She had to be able to help find out what was wrong.

Draco suddenly felt the effects of his terrible rest the night before and dozed off, only to wake to the sounds of Ginny and Ron arguing. He decided it best not to intrude.

Ron looked at Ginny as she scolded. "You look like you died and came back to life, Ron! This isn't healthy!"

"I'm fat! You, Fred, George, Percy, Harry; you're lucky! You lot have your fame, your good looks. I had nothing until I had Draco! I want to keep him!"

"He's worried about you, Ron. What if you aren't the one that loses a loved one?" Ginny turns away, tucking her hair away. "Just, remember we love you, alright?" The quick swish of an apparition fills the apartment, and she is gone. Draco stands to go talk to Ron, peering out from the doorway.

"Ron?" he called weakly. "I just wanted to tell you that I think you were perfect the way you were before all of this. I know you think you're fat; you aren't. You probably feel like a wuss because everyone thinks bulimia and anorexia are girl things. They aren't. They can affect everyone. I know. I didn't eat for a long time, Ron, because I couldn't eat near my father. You saw where that got me. Now don't be a hypocrite, Ronnie. Please eat."