Relax Upon Your Rules, Part 5
Chapter 5. In which we discover the Sorting Hat doesn't always get it right…
Breakfast at the Gryffindor table was very subdued. Harry lifted his head and looked around the hall. Actually, it was pretty subdued everywhere. For a moment, his eyes rested on the Slytherin table. Draco wasn't there. Harry wondered if he was still in the Infirmary with Ron - Ron - he squeezed his eyes shut.
"He's probably camping outside the Infirmary. Poor sod!"
Harry looked up quickly. Seamus was sitting across from him. He was talking to Dean and nodding towards Draco's empty seat.
"Wait." Dean suddenly looked worried.
Everyone was looking now.
"Do kisses while one of them is unconscious count?"
Harry looked down the length of the table; everyone seemed uncommonly interested in this conversation. He began to suspect that perhaps he wasn't the remarkably observant person he thought he was.
"No, definitely not." Seamus was shaking his head adamantly. "They both have to be fully conscious and acting of their own free will or it doesn't count." Noticing Harry's wide-eyed stare, he suddenly turned towards the other wizard and asked, "So, Harry, when are you going to join the sweepstake? If you have some insider information that you might be willing to share, I may be able to offer you a discount."
Harry leant down and started to bang his head on the table. Seamus nodded approvingly.
~~~
The next five days were a difficult, anxious time for everybody. Madam Pomfrey found herself swamped by a constant stream of concerned enquiries from the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws; the Slytherins naturally kept their distance.
On the second day, Dumbledore smiled as he watched Neville Longbottom whispering the latest report from the Infirmary into Pansy Parkinson's ear. Miss Parkinson was doing a remarkable job of pretending he wasn't there and she wasn't listening, but the old wizard nodded absently as he watched her right hand reach out and give the boy's sleeve a slight tug before he walked away. And Dumbledore was particularly heartened by the way the entire table leant forward as one, and listened intently, as the dark haired girl began to talk.
The Weasleys of course, were keeping a constant vigil at Ron's bedside. Ginny, had been excused from lessons, and Bill and Charlie had both arrived at The Burrow during that first night, and had brought her and the twins back to Hogwarts with them the next morning.
Three others joined them before classes, between classes and after classes; indeed if it hadn't been for a rather stern lecture the first day from Professor McGonagall, it would have included during classes too. The other students had quickly recovered from the shock of seeing Harry Potter and Hermione Granger flanking Draco Malfoy, as they made their way to the Hospital Wing each day. The Slytherins had decided to pretend that they couldn't see them.
Actually, it had come as a bit of a shock to Draco to find himself being welcomed to the Infirmary by Weasley's family. He had expected to be met with hexes and threats, at the very least. But now, he suspected they were all under strict orders from Mrs Weasley to play nicely with him. And he had a feeling that the twins in particular, were having a hard time restraining their natural impulses. But the rest of the family had been nothing but kind to Draco.
He could still recall his own feelings of dawning horror, when he had woken up that first morning to find himself surrounded by Weasleys. Heart thudding in his chest, Draco's whole life had just started to flash painfully past his startled eyes, when Mrs Weasley had stepped forward, pushed the twins firmly out of her way and had kissed Draco on the forehead.
Oh, well that explained it - clearly this was all some sort of weird dream.
"Draco dear, good you're awake. Would you like a cup of tea?" And suddenly he was sitting up, holding a steaming cup in his shaking hands.
Or perhaps not.
Thankfully, everyone's attention, including his own, was soon directed back to the occupant of the other bed. Weasley looked just the same as he had the night before, when Draco had fallen asleep holding his hand. Draco blushed at that; had they all seen him? And then he didn't care. Besides they must have seen him and they hadn't murdered him in his sleep - that was a good sign - right?
Madam Pomfrey had appeared then. "Aah, Mr Malfoy you're awake. Excellent." Everyone seemed unaccountably pleased to see him awake.
She walked to his side and peered closely into his alarmed face, "We seem to have nipped that nasty case of - of…" her voice trailed off and she started to look slightly panicked.
"Arseitis!" A voice in the background supplied.
The medi-witch seemed momentarily nonplussed, then with a slight twitch said, "Quite."
And, before he could say a word, Draco found himself surrounded by a screen and his clothes were being handed to him. More disturbingly, the old witch had paused to cup his face and mumble, "poor dear," before leaving abruptly. Clearly, the entire world had gone mad while he'd been sleeping.
Draco had wasted no time in dressing; loathe as he was to leave Weasley, he suddenly felt like an intruder, and he really needed some time alone to think. But he needed something else too. Taking a deep breath, Draco peered shyly around the edge of the screen. All the Weasleys had their backs to him. For a moment, he was tempted to just slip out unnoticed, but he couldn't; he needed to say something to Mrs Weasley first. Stepping out from behind the screen, he cleared his throat timidly. Several redheads turned in his direction. Draco took a hesitant step, and then, slowly approached Mrs Weasley, who was smiling kindly at him.
"Thank you." His voice felt rough, as if he hadn't used it for a long time. Ducking his head, he suddenly felt lost; what was he supposed to do now? Part of him was shouting run, but a louder, more persistent part was screaming need to see him.
Molly's smile widened as she watched him, and then, she reached forward and took hold of his hand. "Come on, love. I'm sure you're anxious to see how he is." And she led Draco over to her son's bed, past the curious stares of the rest of her family.
As he looked down at Weasley's sleeping face, Draco was overcome with the need to reach out and touch him. Aah, sod it - his reputation was shot anyway. Lifting a trembling hand, he brushed a red strand off the pale forehead and was startled by a snigger. Looking up, he was confronted by a grinning Ginny Weasley on the other side of the bed. If Draco had been surprised by her laugh, then he nearly fell through the floor at her wink.
"Ginny -" Her mother's warning voice soon wiped the smirk from the girl's face, but she continued to stare defiantly at him.
Shaking his head slightly, Draco turned his attention back to the boy in the bed.
"There's been no change." Mrs Weasley had moved closer now, a comforting hand on his back. "But that's a good sign - shows he's fighting it."
Draco turned, a look of grim determination on his face. "He's going to be fine." His tone brooked no argument. Then, not even realising that he'd taken hold of Weasley's hand as he spoke, Draco looked back down at the boy and said. "He has to be."
~~~
On the fifth day, his heart stopped.
It was late afternoon, and Dobby had appeared in the middle of Professor McGonagall's lesson, jumping anxiously from foot to foot.
"Dobby is sorry, Professor McGonagalalalgall," (Dobby had no problem starting to say Professor McGonagall's name, he just found it hard to stop) "but the headmaster is sending me." He ran over to Harry's desk and pushed his huge nose into the boy's startled face. "Harry Potter is needed in the Infirmary."
And there it was, right there - the moment that Draco's heart stopped.
It hadn't taken long for it to start beating again though, and so rapidly and loudly that Draco thought his chest would explode, and that McGonagall would yell at him for making so much noise.
Dobby meanwhile had turned his sorrowful eyes to Hermione. "Miss Hermoaney too."
Then he tip-toed rather dramatically over to Draco's desk, and placing a hand at one side of his mouth stated loudly, in what he clearly believed to be a discreet whisper, "Master Draco must come also. But Dobby is not to let anyone else know that."
There were a few nervous sniggers and Draco would have blushed had he not been too concerned by what the sudden summons might mean for Weasley. Turning worried eyes to Harry, he was on his feet instantly and heading for the door without waiting for permission to leave; Harry and Hermione hard on his heels.
They didn't speak as they ran to the Infirmary; unable or at least unwilling to speak their fears. When they reached the large wooden doors all three paused. Taking a collective breath, they stood silently (apart from the sound of their strangled breaths), staring at the implacable wood; what lay beyond it?
Draco felt Hermione slip her hand into his, and looked down to meet fearful eyes. He noticed that she had taken hold of Harry's hand on her other side; with a quick, tense nod they stepped through the doors.
As they walked into the ward, voices greeted them - happy, joyful voices, and then one voice emerged from the babble; croaky and low, but unmistakable and Draco stopped.
Harry and Hermione halted a few steps ahead. Turning back to him, the look on their faces was proof enough that they had heard him too.
Before either one could say anything, Draco shook his head, and speaking quietly, so as not to draw attention to them from the crowd around the bed, said, "I can't, he wouldn't want me here."
Harry stepped forward and started to say something, but Hermione interrupted him. "He's right Harry. Ron doesn't know, it would seem odd."
Then walking back to Draco, she took both his hands in hers, and leaning up, kissed him on the cheek. "But soon Draco…soon."
Smiling shakily at her, Draco gave a hurried nod to Harry, then turned abruptly, and walked quickly out the doors.
~~~
Although Ron had been declared out of danger, he was far from being well enough to leave the Hospital Wing; a fact that he bemoaned on a regular basis to anyone who stood still long enough. This, included the specialist summoned from St Mungos to discover how he had managed to contract a disease that he had supposedly been immunised against on a regular basis since birth. It had only taken a handful of tests to ascertain a genetic doobrey (Ron couldn't recall the correct medical term for it) was the culprit and even less potions and waves of a wand to correct it. Ron was naturally relieved that it was nothing serious and even more pleased that it could in no way be blamed on his close association with Muggles.
Ron knew Hermione and Harry (in spite of his father's pureblood ancestry, Harry still thought of himself as Muggle) had felt guilty about the whole 'flu thing, feeling somehow that they were to blame. So, Ron was more than happy to be able to tell them that Healer Peligo had said that, not only had they had no hand in his recent illness, but that his proximity to them, had in fact, likely helped to boost his immune system to Muggle viral agents, and thereby, had in all probability, aided his recent recovery. Or, as Ron had put it, "See. Harry, every time you snotted on me when you had a cold, you were actually doing me a favour." Disgusting as that imagery was, Harry and Hermione had both smiled in relief at his words.
Once all the tests and incantations were over, Ron was more restless than ever; feeling the need to move, to stretch muscles that had lain inert for the better part of two weeks, and he was frustrated by Madam Pomfrey's orders to rest; being still just didn't sit well with Ron. And, to his utter surprise he had come to the realisation that he didn't actually like being popular either; waking up, Ron was appalled to discover himself the centre of so much attention. It was funny really. After all, he'd spent so much time feeling envious of Harry's celebrity, thinking that it would be really cool to be the one in the spotlight for a change. But it turned out that he hated it. As he'd mumbled to Harry at the end of his second week of convalescence, "I don't know how you put up with it, mate." Harry had just shaken his head and grinned (he'd only been trying to tell the pillock that for the last seven years).
Ron couldn't believe the number of visitors he'd been getting and from every House; the day Pansy Parkinson had walked in he'd literally fallen out of his chair. Annoying really, as Madam Pomfrey had chosen to take that as conclusive proof that it was too soon for him to be out of bed. Bloody Slytherins, they were all out to get him.
Parkinson had sniffed snootily down at him, dropped a large bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans on his head and mumbled something about thinking she might find Draco there, before wandering out again. Draco - yeah, as if! Ron was half-way through the bag of beans before it suddenly occurred to him - shit, she had - she'd really thought Draco would be there - with Harry. And it all came flooding back.
Pushing the bag of beans away, Ron had slumped down under the bed covers - perhaps Pomfrey was right, maybe he should stay in bed for a while longer.
After that, he couldn't help but notice how often Harry and Hermione mentioned the blond git. Bloody hell, that meant Hermione was in on it now and obviously approved. And now Ron knew, just knew, that they were going to try to convince him too.
Oh hell.
He wondered how difficult it would be to fake a coma.
~~~
Ron had been out of the Infirmary for a week and everyone was talking about the upcoming Halloween Ball that Dumbledore had announced the day before in breakfast.
Standing up and waiting for silence, the old wizard had stated that in recognition of a very recent, joyous event - he had paused then to nod in Ron's direction and everyone had started to clap, much to Ron's acute embarrassment - there would be a School Ball at Halloween, instead of the usual feast. And, much to the joy of the lower years, unlike the Yule Ball, this one would be open to all. A loud cheering had broken out then.
A day later and girls were still walking around in clusters, talking excitedly about what they were going to wear, and how they would have their hair on the night. Ron couldn't help but think that if they ever decided to put as much effort into their magic, then Voldemort would be well advised to run screaming in terror at the first sign of a pigtail.
Thankfully, partners weren't compulsory. Ron was very grateful - well, he'd not been well, a boy couldn't be expected to ask someone to a dance when he'd not been well - he didn't have the strength. He tried not to think about who Harry would be going with.
He stopped walking and looked up. He was outside McGonagall's classroom. How did he get here? Ron couldn't even remember leaving the common room.
Suddenly, he remembered the last time he'd stood alone outside this room; a fact that was brought home even more forcibly, when he heard the same two voices that he had heard then floating out the door. Shit, not again. Ron's brain said run, but his heart - stupid, bastard thing - said stay; to his utter self-disgust Ron found himself edging closer to the open door. Bloody brain was such a wuss.
~~~
Inside McGonagall's classroom, Harry grinned as he watched Draco pacing nervously back and forth. He had a feeling that the blond boy might have finally reached breaking point.
"Saturday, Harry. It has to be Saturday or I'll never do it." Draco turned to look at Harry, eyes shining with emotion. "Saturday at the Ball I'm going to go for it."
A shadow suddenly fell across the floor as someone walked swiftly past the open door, followed by the sound of running feet. Momentarily distracted, Harry idly wondered who it might have been, then he shifted his attention back to the tense boy in front of him.
"Him, Draco," Harry grinned, "Saturday you're going to go for him."
The other boy blushed and grinned back. Then, fixing a determined look on his face, he gave Harry a quick nod then walked from the room, a definite spring in his step.
Harry shook his head slowly, a smile on his lips. Oh boy, Ron wasn't going to know what hit him.
~~~
Ron was breathless by the time he reached his dorm. He had run all the way, spurred on by his desperate need to be alone. Slumping onto his bed he let out a groan, he felt sick. He'd just heard Draco Malfoy declare his intention 'to go for it' at the upcoming Ball. That could only mean one thing - Malfoy and Harry were going to go public. Ron hadn't stuck around to hear anything more. He decided that he really would have to stop listening at doors (and that was the last time Ron let his heart over-rule his brain).
It was no good, he'd have to get out of going to the Ball. There was no way he could stand by and watch them together. The thought alone made him want to vomit - and this time he knew it had nothing to do with the Muggle 'flu. What was it with him and Balls - bad thought Ron, very bad thought! He shook his head grinning ruefully. But it was true; he did seem to have the worse luck when it came to ba- dances.
Ron had tried, he really had. He knew Harry wanted him to be friends with Draco. It had been obvious from the moment he'd woken up in the Infirmary. Harry had taken every opportunity to talk about the blond boy, telling Ron how much the Slytherin had changed. Harry had even tried to tell Ron that Draco had been worried about him while he was ill. Yeah, Ron worried would recover and come between Malfoy and his boyfriend more like.
And, then, Harry had actually dragged Malfoy along with him on a visit. Ron had nearly fallen out of bed when the blond boy had popped out from behind Harry. What was Malfoy trying to do? Give Ron a coronary? It had quickly turned into the most excruciatingly uncomfortable twenty minutes of Ron's life - and Merlin knew Ron was no stranger to embarrassment.
But he'd tried. For Harry's sake he'd tried. The problem was the more Harry talked, the more he attempted to include Draco in their lives, the harder Ron fell. He didn't need his best friend to tell him how much Draco had changed. Ron could see it in every smile, in every nervous glance. This wasn't the cocky Slytherin they'd grown to despise over the years. Where was the arrogant know-it-all who had hidden behind his father's name for so long? - evaporated along with the snide remarks and sneers. In their place was a rather quiet boy, anxious to know Ron and be accepted. No, Ron didn't need Harry to tell him that Draco just wanted a chance. The problem was Ron didn't want to give him a chance, didn't want to accept him - well, not as a friend. And Ron couldn't accept him as Harry's boyfriend. Not when he was pretty sure he was quite possibly, nearly certainly, almost definitely in love with the little bastard himself!
Ron groaned again and turned his head into his pillow. If only he could forget the dreams.
Ever since Ron had woken up in the Infirmary, he had been haunted by the memory of dreams he'd had while sick. They must have been dreams - but they felt so real. Dreams of Draco holding his hand and talking softly to him, pleading with him to get well so Draco could finally tell Ron how he felt. The feel of long fingers sifting through his hair. Of soft lips on his temple, warm breath on his face, tearful words of prayer… 'don't leave me, please don't go…'
And Ron was beginning to wish that he hadn't listened to those pleas, hadn't fought so hard to stay; some days Ron wished he hadn't ever woken up.
~~~
For two days Ron got away with it. Every time the subject of the Ball came up, Ron would suddenly remember that he had to be somewhere else and leave quickly.
On the third day, a parcel arrived from his mother with the morning post.
Ginny had immediately started to snigger and then Ron heard her mutter to Hermione, "Merlin help us not more dress robes!"
Ron he lost his appetite as a wave of deja vu swept over him leaving him feeling sick; he stared forlornly at the box in his hands.
Harry nudged him, "Go on, mate. They can't be as bad as last time."
Ron wasn't convinced but he lifted the lid slowly and peered nervously into the box.
The first thing he noticed was a distinct lack of frills or lace. He heaved a sigh of relief - so far so good. The next thing that caught his attention was the colour - they were a deep midnight blue - not bad. Ron lifted them out of the box and stood holding them in front of him. A wolf whistle from further down the table caused him to sit down again quickly, blushing madly. He looked over at Hermione and Ginny who were grinning knowingly at him.
"You knew," Ron said with a shake of his head and a wry smile.
Hermione laughed, "Oh, Ron, you should have seen your face."
Ginny reached over to take the robes out of his hands. She lifted them up and held them next to Ron's face. "Hermione and I helped choose them. See, Herm,"and she turned to her friend, "I told you this colour would bring out his eyes."
The blush that had been gradually fading developed a whole new intensity and Ron tried to wrestle the robes out of his sister's hands. "Blimey, Gin, stop talking such rot!"
"Aah, is ickle Ronniekins embarrassed about his pretty eyes?" Letting go of the robes, Ginny leant over further and ruffled his hair. Then, glancing over his shoulder, her smile broadened. "I think someone else is admiring your pretty eyes." And she gave a sly wink.
Ron turned quickly to see who she was winking at. And found himself staring into Draco Malfoy's startled eyes. The blond was blushing almost as much as he was. Ron nodded abruptly at him and then turned back to glare at his sister. But she didn't even notice; she was too engrossed in a heated exchange of whispers with Hermione.
Hermione it seemed, had been equally unimpressed by Ginny's recent antics. Well, it was nice to see at least one of Ron's friends sticking up for him, and he turned to frown at a still laughing Harry.
Ron couldn't make out much of the girls' words but he thought he heard something about 'no hints' and 'disqualification'. Barmy, the lot of them.
Ron stood up and announced that he was going to put his new robes away before class. As he walked out, he resisted the urge to see if Draco was still staring at Harry.
~~~
Unfortunately, Ron knew that the arrival of the robes would mean an inevitable conversation about the Ball. By making sure he only turned up for Transfiguration a minute before McGonagall, and then pretending he had to fetch his Charms book from his trunk before their next class, he managed to postpone the moment until lunchtime. Tempted as he was to duck out on lunch too, Ron knew that his absence from any meal, would look highly suspicious and was bound to warrant comment. So, reluctantly, he decided that this would probably be the best time to let his friends know that he wouldn't actually be going to the Ball.
"I think you'll look very dashing in your new robes, Ron." Right on cue, Hermione started the conversation rolling as soon as he sat down.
Taking a deep breath, Ron readied himself for what he was pretty sure was not going to be a favourable response to his next words.
"Yeah, well goodness knows when I'll get to wear them." He rushed on, ignoring the looks of confusion being exchanged amongst his friends. "I don't know why mum bought them really. I mean, I only wore the ones the twins gave me once before they got too short. And what are the chances of me needing dress robes once we leave here?" Ron grabbed his goblet of pumpkin juice and gulped down nearly half.
Hermione recovered first. "What do you mean you don't know when you'll wear them? You'll wear them for the Halloween Ball, silly." And she frowned over at him, as if daring him to contradict her.
Okay, here it goes…
"Er, well that's just it - I'm not going to the Ball." Ron smiled weakly.
Hermione had opened her mouth to reply but she never got the chance.
"Yes, you bloody well are!" It was Ginny. She was standing behind Ron, having just walked in.
He turned to face her. "Look, Gin, I-"
She didn't allow him to continue; grabbing hold of the back of his hair, Ginny leant down until their noses were almost touching.
"Now just you listen to me, Ronald Bilius Weasley. This Ball is being given in honour of you surviving a rather nasty little illness, in case you've forgotten. Have you any idea what you put us all through?"
Ron had just started to open his mouth to point out that it hadn't exactly been a picnic for him either, when she carried on.
"We deserve this dance for all the time we spent sitting next to your bed, staring at your ugly, pasty face. So you will stop this 'not going' nonsense, and will turn up on the night in question, looking scrubbed, brushed and happy to be there." She gave a vicious yank to his head, "Is that understood?"
Gulping, he gave a frightened nod, and she finally loosened the death grip on his hair. Ron immediately reached a hand up to massage his abused scalp, checking for a bald patch in the process - blimey, she had a strong grip.
"Good!" Ginny nodded curtly at him, and then moved away to take a seat further down the table.
Ron frowned suspiciously when he saw Seamus clap her on the back and Dean give her the thumbs up.
And that was another thing - just why was everyone so keen for him to go to this ruddy Ball anyway?
~~~
Saturday came around much too quickly in Ron's opinion (so just why Ginny, Hermione and Neville - Neville - had spent the last three days insisting that it would never arrive he didn't know).
Ron sat slumped sullenly over his plate of toast. He hadn't entirely given up on being able to get out of going to the Ball, but there was no denying, hope was fading fast.
Twice when Ron had thought she was in a good mood he had tried to reason with Ginny. The first time she had threatened to share certain naked baby pictures with the rest of the school; the second time castration had been mentioned.
It might have been easier had Ron had any allies, but everyone else seemed to feel the same way as Ginny and never tired of telling him that he just had to attend the dance. At last in despair, he thought of feigning illness, but then remembering the concern his last illness had generated, had felt ashamed for even considering it.
He sat up and squared his shoulders. He was just going to have to grin and bear it - Ginny was right it was the least he could do. And he didn't have to stay for long. Ron was sure even she wouldn't be cross if he said he was tired and left early. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Just then, Ron's attention was drawn to the entrance, where Harry had paused in deep conversation with Draco Malfoy; dark head leaned close to blond, as Harry whispered something in the Slytherine's ear. Draco suddenly ducked his head, as a deep blush spread across his face, while Harry looked up and grinned in Ron's direction.
Fuck, Ron thought, just kill me now.
~~~
If breakfast had been bad, lunch was excruciating. The subject that Ron had so carefully avoided mentioning in front of Harry, was hauled out almost as soon as they had both sat down.
"So, Harry have you asked anyone to the Ball?"
Ron narrowed his eyes and frowned; there was a very good chance that he was going to have to murder his sister. It was either that, or just cut out the middle man, and move in with Gilderoy Lockhart in St Mungo's.
Thankfully, Draco was nowhere in sight, which helped a little, but Ron's stomach still twisted painfully into a tight knot as he waited for Harry's response. At least he wasn't kept in suspense for long.
"As a matter of fact, Ginny, I've asked -"
Oh Merlin, Ron was going to puke all over his plate.
"- no one. What about you?"
Ron couldn't stop the rush of relieved breath that exploded from his throat, causing a flurry of concern from his friends. Luckily, he managed to turn it into a strangled cough and shrugged it off as a stray crumb going down the wrong way.
"Honestly, Ron, you really ought to try breathing when you eat." Ginny shook her head disgustedly. Then, turning back to Harry, she grinned cheekily as she responded to his earlier question, "You'll just have to wait and see."
Harry laughed, shaking his head.
Ron took a deep breath. Well, that bought him a little time; at least they wouldn't be turning up arm in arm. Perhaps he could duck out before Draco made his move.
He was just starting to feel better than he had for days when another thought hit him - even if he managed to avoid the big announcement, he'd still have to witness the aftermath when he woke up the next day.
He stood up abruptly. "Er, I'm not very hungry, think I might go and lie down for a bit."
Ginny grinned at him, "Good idea, Ron - save your strength for the evening's activities."
He frowned at her, a little concerned by the accompanying sniggers of his friends and the knowing looks that seemed to be being exchanged amongst the group. Ron was really beginning to suspect that he might be missing out on something important.
~~~
Later that afternoon, Errol flew to Ron's dorm window.
Well, okay to may not have been the most accurate description - into was probably more fitting.
Luckily for Errol, Ron had been staring out the open window at the time, which probably saved the daft bird's life; quickly reaching out a hand he managed to grab the ancient owl before Errol had finished sliding down the glass. Putting the concussed bird on his bed, Ron untied the letter from his leg. It was from his dad.
Dear Ron
I hope you received your new dress robes. I am a little concerned that you haven't seen fit to let us know, or indeed, thank us - robes aren't cheap, Ron - but I promised your mum I wouldn't mention that, after all you have been very ill and we're all just grateful that you're well again.
Anyway, your mum and I hope you have a nice time this evening at the Ball. I think it was very thoughtful of Professor Dumbledore to hold a dance in honour of your recovery. I hope that you have at least thanked him.
Don't stay up too late - remember you need your rest. And if you go outside - for whatever reason - wrap up warm. Oh, and if you do feel the need for some fresh air, I've heard that just after 10.30pm is a very good time to get the most benefit from, you know, the good things that are, in fact, in air. But don't mention that I said that to anyone - particularly Mr Finnigan or your mum.
Oh, and Christmas will be here before we know it. Harry and Hermione are, as always, welcome to join us at The Burrow. And your mum wants you to invite Draco too. I know he's a Slytherin, but we'll deal with that. He will always be welcome here (I'll have a word with the twins).
Well, Ron, enjoy yourself son.
All my love
Dad
Apparently, the entire world had gone mad. And just why was Ron's mum inviting Draco for Christmas? Was she trying to put him back in the Hospital Wing? Ron paused to think, and then something awful occurred to him. Bloody hell, she knew!
It was the only possible explanation. His mum, knew about Harry and Draco. That had to be it and what was worse - she was obviously fine with it. And what about Ron's dad? Did he know too? Bastards. Every last one of them. Right now Ron hated them all - Harry, Draco, Hermione, his mum - his entire family - the entire freaking school. Everyone in fact who was okay with this.
Because, it had just occurred to Ron, that if they were okay with Harry and Draco, then they would probably have been just as okay with him and Draco.
Ron put his head in his hands and shook it. Fuck. It could have been him - it should have been him.
Something else occurred to Ron a little while later - why wasn't he allowed to tell Seamus about his dad's musings regarding the best time to obtain fresh air? Or his mum? And why was his dad talking about fresh air in the first place?
He wondered for a moment if his dad had been drinking before he wrote the letter? Perhaps the strain of the last few weeks was beginning to take its toll. This made Ron feel suddenly very guilty. He glanced at Errol on the bed; clearly that pathetic bunch of feathers wasn't up to a return journey.
He walked over to his trunk and took out some parchment and his quill. He began to write a reply, starting with an apology for his failure to thank them for his new robes. He'd take it to the owlery when he'd finished and get Pig to deliver it.
~~~
It was dark by the time Ron reached the owlery, which probably explained why he failed to notice the figure huddled in the corner, ruffling the feathers of a magnificent Eagle owl that was perched on his knee.
Walking to the centre of the cavernous room Ron squinted up into the rafters. Where was the annoying little squirt?
"Pig!" He waited for the inevitable mad flapping of wings, that usually followed such a summons; he didn't have to wait long.
In spite of having the little lunatic for almost four years, Pig had never grown. This had surprised everyone; they'd all assumed he was a bit of a runt, who would grow in time. But Pig was still the small, excitable ball of feathers, that he had been that first day. And Ron wouldn't have him any other way. Of course, he'd never admit it, but Ron was exceedingly fond of the mad sod, and would be devastated if anything ever happened to him.
He smiled now, as he watched the little bird fly down towards him, tooting madly.
"Come 'ere, you silly brute." Ron grabbed the owl as it flew wildly about his head. Holding it close to his chest, he stroked its feathers affectionately.
"How are you, runt? Miss me?" He held the bird up to his face. Ron hadn't seen him since before he was ill and he'd really missed the little guy. Pig cooed contentedly into his hair. "I missed you too."
Ron held him in front of his eyes, "Tell anyone I said that and you're hippogriff chow!" And he kissed the little owl on the beak.
"Ahem."
Ron spun round at the sound. And found himself face to face with a somewhat awkward looking Draco Malfoy. Ron couldn't speak and felt the rapid advance of a blush that had started somewhere around his knees.
"Er, sorry." Draco found his voice first. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I just came to see Hermes." And he cocked his head toward the owl now resting on his arm.
Ron still couldn't trust himself to speak but he did manage a small nod of acknowledgement.
Draco walked towards Ron smiling. "He's a cute little thing, isn't he?" And he nodded towards the small owl that was currently attempting to gnaw Ron's thumb off.
Coming to his senses, Ron realised he would have to say something. "Yeah," he said. "He's not bad - for a mental case." And he smiled affectionately at the small bundle of feathers that was pecking viciously at his skin.
Draco was standing in front of him now and reached out to stroke the little owl behind the ear.
Ron found himself mesmerised by the long, pale fingers - wish he'd stroke me like that…
The blond boy turned to look at him, startling Ron from his thoughts. "You're looking well -" He suddenly broke off and blushed, "I mean - er - you know - since your illness. I mean you seem to have recovered well." He looked away and started to stroke his own owl furiously, earning himself an annoyed nip on the knuckle; clearly Hermes didn't appreciate the rough treatment. Neither boy noticed.
Ron was panicking - what do I say? What do I say? Aargh.
"Thanks." Ron knew his face had to be crimson, but luckily the other boy wasn't looking at him. Merlin, he had to get out of there quick.
"I have to go-"
"Ron, will you-"
They both laughed, embarrassed.
Ron shrugged, looking awkward, "After you," he said politely.
"No, no." Draco shook his head still blushing, "you go first."
Ron rubbed the back of his neck grinning, "Er, well. I should probably go - got to get ready for the Ball and everything."
Draco nodded, "Of course, me too." Then he smiled shyly, "See you there?"
But that look was too much, and Ron could only nod abruptly, before he hurried from the room, wanting to murder his dad for ever putting him there in the first place (he'd worry about the fairness of that thought later).
It wasn't until he reached the common room that Ron realised he still had hold of Pig and the letter lay forgotten in his pocket.
Bugger.
Well, there was no way Ron was going to risk running into Malfoy again; he'd send it from his room window, and he trudged wearily up the stairs.
This was rapidly turning into one of the worst days of Ron's life.
~~~
Ginny marched up the stairs to the owlery, a determined tilt to her chin. She was attempting to track down her wayward brother and Parvati had said that she'd seen him heading in this direction. If the big git thought he could hide out here and miss the Ball, he was very sadly mistaken - she'd been practising her Bat Bogey hex especially.
She stepped into the room and frowned. Draco Malfoy was apparently attempting to knock the wall down using only his head. Ginny started to grin; something told her that she may have just missed Ron.
Malfoy was mumbling something.
"Fuck. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What was I thinking? 'See you there?' Aargh!"
Ginny hitched herself up into one of the alcoves that ran around the room and settled back to enjoy the show. Malfoy had started to kick the wall now too. After a few moments, when she wondered idly if Dobby had access to popcorn, she decided to join in the fun.
"Either the grey blandness of that wall has really offended your aesthetic sensibilities, or you have just had an encounter with my brother."
Malfoy turned abruptly at the sound of her voice, a look of abject horror on his face.
~~~
Draco bit back a groan, could his day possibly get any worse?
"Well I think that look pretty much says it all," The Weaslette said. "So what did he do then? Or was it what he didn't do?" And to Draco's horror she waggled her eyebrows in a very suggestive manner.
Apparently it could.
"Er, he - I -" Draco's voice trailed off; shaking his head slowly, he looked down at the ground.
Please just let me die now.
Weasley's sister took pity on him. "Don't worry, I'm sure it will all work out in the end. After all," she went on. "They do say anticipation is the strongest aphrodisiac, and just wait 'til you see him in his new dress robes." This time she winked at him.
Oh Merlin, Draco thought, I have to get out of here.
"Er, right, erm," he stuttered out. "I'm going now - that is I'm er - going to go." He nodded at the exit and then strode quickly towards it, half afraid that the redheaded girl would try to stop him. Draco was beginning to think that the entire Weasley clan should come with a health warning - do not attempt to operate heavy machinery, walk in a straight line or think while under the influence.
~~~
Ginny grinned at Malfoy's retreating back. She had a sudden wicked thought (and Seamus would never know). "Actually, you know," she said slyly. "Those robes - he looks really rather sexy in them. In fact, if he wasn't my brother…"
She paused to let that last comment sink in. And by the way Malfoy had come to an abrupt halt, she was quite certain that it had.
"They'll be falling all over themselves to get at him," she carried on. "Parvati had a very predatory glint in her eye as she watched him walk by earlier and I could have sworn Justin Finch-Fletchley winked at him at lunch."
There was a definite stiffening of the shoulders at that. Ginny tried not to giggle. This was so easy.
"I just thought you should know," she said. "I'd hate to see you miss out just because you waited too long. My advice would be to get in there early, before the vultures descend."
A slight twitch to the shoulders was the only sign that Malfoy had heard her, but there was definitely a renewed sense of urgency in his step as he hurried off.
Jumping down from her perch, Ginny rushed to the top of the stairs and shouted after the rapidly retreating boy. "I certainly wouldn't leave it much beyond 8pm - probably 8.15 at the latest! Hermione's definitely been eyeing his arse even more than usual!"
Malfoy jumped the remaining five steps and sprinted round the corner.
Sighing happily, Ginny folded her arms across her chest and leant back against the wall.
My work here is done, she thought contentedly.
(It had been remarked upon on more than one occasion, and by more than one person, that there was a good chance that the Sorting Hat may have made a bit of a cock-up when it came to Miss Ginerva Weasley).
Part 6