A/N: A billion and one thankyousomuch's to those who reviewed! Reviews really do make my day, and are the only reason I bother posting my stories online at all! And in reply to the reviewer dementoricecream, they should be able to do that! But I left that out purposely - it'll be made clear in the coming chapters! ; )

SEVEN:

It hadn't even been an actual kiss. That thought - that undeniable truth - was the only thing keeping Ron sane. Because... because, well, it was Draco bloody Malfoy who had been sitting next to him on that bench when he'd had that curious feeling - that pleasant sort of fluttering in his stomach - before leaning in for a snog. Malfoy.

If it really had been a kiss, if their lips had met... Ron didn't want to think about it. He really, really did not want to think about it.

But he had to. So the most comforting and acceptable thought he could form in his head was that it - what he and the Slytherin had done - hadn't been a kiss. Sure, the redhead had been able to feel Draco's body heat as he'd leaned in, had been able to practically taste the mint on the blond's breath...And, okay, that wasn't really helping.

The point was that Ron hadn't technically touched lips with Malfoy. He hadn't. And the truth was that the redhead hadn't even really been thinking of the Slytherin in that moment when they had most definitely not touched lips; he'd been thinking of Hermione. What happened wasn't normal, was certainly not anywhere near the vicinity of being right, but Ron was sure that if he could just talk to Draco for a moment he could get things at least sort of straightened out.

So the Gryffindor had tried. Tuesday morning, the morning after that unfortunate it-was-so-a-mistake incident, he had forced himself out of bed. Admittedly, getting over the horror of the situation (he'd almost kissed Malfoy, a bloody male, a freaking Slytherin) he was currently in had taken a while. He'd crawled out from under his thick covers far too late for breakfast. Still, he'd manged to get dressed and comb his hair before heading out for his first class of the day.

Most of the day had gone by slowly. Ron had gone to class, had carefully not listened to lectures pertaining to the upcoming N.E.W.T's, and had eaten a roast beef sandwich for lunch. It wasn't until Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid that Ron had gotten his first chance to speak to Malfoy.

When Hagrid had revealed the little white birds hopping around in their cages (he couldn't remember what they'd been called but they hadn't maimed him by the time class was over, which was nice) and had called for the class to split into teams of two Ron had shouldered his way through the crowd of shuffling seventh years as quickly as possible, heading for Draco.

It had not ended well.

Ron had ended up working with Pansy Parkinson and had hardly managed to make eye contact with his intended target, never mind talk to him.

The redhead, however, was not going to let that spectacular failure deter him. Or so he firmly told himself.

Now here he was in the Great Hall, sitting at his House table and poking disinterestedly at his food. Next to him was Dean, who was turned towards Seamus and chuckling at some joke the teen had made. Ron was all for Finnigan's jokes - they were funny - but decided it would be in his best interest to ignore them for now. The after class detention Flitwick had given him Friday because he'd laughed at one, and what had happened when he'd gone up to his bed for a nap after that detention was still too fresh a memory.

Ron wasn't very hungry. He didn't feel like eating; didn't feel like being in the Hall period. However, the redhead was on a mission. He was fairly sure that the blond he was looking for would amble in sometime during dinner, and he was going to be here to take advantage of that opportunity.

Just as this thought left his mind, just as he was reassuring himself that yes he would definitely be able to confront the Slytherin, despite the humiliation of having almost kissed him, and then the added humiliation of being not-so-casually brushed off during Care of Magical Creatures... Malfoy ambled into the Great Hall and over to the Slytherin table. And Ron's resolve crumbled a little. He couldn't do it. Couldn't make himself stand up; couldn't make himself walk over to the blond and demand his attention.

Great. He turned away; went back to his meal.

"If he doesn't hurry up he's going to miss dinner," muttered Hermione, and Ron looked up from his rather harassed looking bowl of soup. There was no doubt the girl was talking about Harry.

She was right, of course. The redhead let his eyes drift over to the Hall entrance. He wondered where Harry was. And wondering where Harry was made him wonder about the mysterious meeting with Dumbledore the bespectacled boy had mentioned the day before. What could Harry possibly have to talk about with the Headmaster? Was he in trouble? Had he noticed anything suspicious going on around the school?

No. No way. That was impossible. Harry would have mentioned something if that were the case. Or, at least, Ron was pretty sure he would've mentioned something.

"You're right." He looked back up at the entrance. "But... Oh, there he is." Both Harry and Pansy Parkinson stepped into the Hall at the same time. Harry seemed to be talking animatedly, waving his hands around and trying to make eye contact with the girl. The Slytherin looked annoyed. She hissed something at Harry and hurried away, towards her House table.

Well, that was interesting. Ron took a moment to look carefully at his friend, who was already headed for the Gryffindor table, when his attention abruptly shifted. Back to Draco.

Parkinson had slumped down into the seat nearest Draco and was hissing something into his ear. She completely ignored the food tray that had appeared in front of her. And as Ron watched the blond, who hadn't even begun to make a dent in his own food, pushed his own tray away.

"Hullo, Ron," the redhead heard Harry acknowledge, and he nodded but didn't spare his friend a glance. His gaze was still aimed at the Slytherin table, at Malfoy.

He saw Pansy and Draco stand. They ignored the loud, rather crude jibes and howls that Millicent shouted at them before she burst into raucous laughter, and headed briskly for the exit.

Ron guessed that this was probably the best chance he was ever going to get. Draco was nearly alone, away from all the Slytherins, and he'd had some time to cool down.

Right then. In a rush, Ron pushed his unfinished dinner away and stood. "I'll see you guys later," he said, and only afforded his friends a sort of half-glance before hurrying away from the Gryffindor table.

He saw it as Pansy and Draco exited the Great Hall, and he followed.

-----

Draco had to privately admit that dodging Ron in Care of Magical Creatures might not have been the best of ideas. Sure, it was reasonable. His decision to avoid the oaf was justified. But...Well, he really needed his wand back.

He'd left his broken, spell-o-taped wand laying on that bench overlooking the Quidditch playing field. He hadn't even realized he'd left the thing behind until later that night while tossing and turning in bed. And once he had realized he'd been much too mortified and annoyed to go back and get it immediately.

So that morning he'd gotten up early, when the sky was still gray and the air frigid and chill. He'd taken a quick shower, thrown on his school uniform and robe, and had hurried out of his House with his book bag slung carelessly over one shoulder.

The yellowed grass had crunched loudly under his feet as he'd walked, and he made a mental note to himself that should have been obvious in the first place. November mornings were cold. Really cold, in this case. And it probably wasn't a good idea to go traipsing around the school grounds on cold November mornings without a coat - or at the very least some heavier robes.

Once he'd made it to the Quidditch Pitch he'd hurried over to the Slytherin stands, counting in his head until he had reached the spot where he and the Weasel had been sitting the night before.

And the wand, of course, had been gone.

That redheaded Weasel had taken it. Or at least that's what the blond assumed; it made sense that the dullard, being the dullard that he was, would take it.

Classes had been hell.

Here he was already at dinner, sipping at his soup while carefully avoiding looking at any of the other Slytherins, and his ears were still ringing from all that yelling McGonagall had done when he'd told her he didn't have his wand with him.

Well, okay, maybe saying that his ears were still ringing was a bit of an exaggeration. The point was, however, that the woman had a mouth on her. A very loud mouth.

Stupid Weasley. It was bad enough that the Gryffindor had gone and fucked up the tenuous truce the two of them had come to this school year. Did the redheaded git have to go and take his broken wand also?

Well, apparently so.

So caught up in thoughts of Ron, Draco nearly yelped in surprise when Pansy plopped down next to him. She wasted no time grabbing or even looking at the dinner tray that appeared in front of her. Instead, she leaned in close to the blond and began immediately whispering.

"Harry bloody Potter just came up and talked to me while I was on my way here," she hissed. And then, "Harry Potter. Can you believe it?"

"What?" asked Draco, quite confused. He resisted the urge to glance over at the Gryffindor House table. "Potter?"

"That's right. The right git went and asked me if he could talk to me. Said he just wanted to ask me a few questions or some rubbish like that."

"Questions?" Frowning, Draco thought back to the day before. Hadn't Potter tried to confront him about something during Potions? "I wonder why..."

"Does he think I'm daft? I wasn't going to go off to some secluded corner with him." She leaned closer still. "Everyone in this school hates us. For all I know he could've had his group of friends lurking around somewhere, waiting to beat on me. You know, like Millicent and all them."

"Er..right." Draco wasn't really convinced that Potter would've beat up on Pansy, or that he would've had someone else beat up on her. Still, he had to admit that it was more than a little weird. Why in the world was that scar-head asking them questions, butting into their business?

It was odd. Very odd.

"Harry Potter," Pansy said again. "I can't..." She trailed off. Draco shot her a questioning look; her eyes, however, were no longer on him. She was looking at the rest of the Slytherin table.

Though the two of them had been speaking at a low volume, everyone seemed to be sneaking glances at them. Some of them were sneering, others snickering. Even as they watched one fourth year Slytherin whispered something to his neighbor, causing the both of them to break out in laughter while they pointed at the two traitors.

Draco suddenly wanted to leave. This was more attention than they usually got from their house mates at meals, and it was making his skin crawl. Maybe they were just playing games. Or maybe the blond was in for another date with Blaise and his fist.

"I'm going," Pansy said, and the spark of life that had come into her again when she was explaining what had happened with Potter was suddenly gone.

She and Draco stood at the same time. They ignored the insults and howls and laughter being aimed their way and left the Hall.

When they were standing in the Entrance Hall, next to the marble staircase that led up and away to the rest of the castle, Draco let out a deep breath he hadn't even been aware of holding.

And then a large hand came from behind; latched onto his forearm.

"Malfoy," the owner of the hand said. "I really need to talk to you."

-----

Draco jerked away from the hand gripping his forearm and spun, breathing hard. "Weasley! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Ron's eyes widened. "Er...," he started, but was cut off before he could say anything useful.

"Don't touch me."

Ron raised his arms in an 'I surrender' gesture, surprised at the blond's violent reaction. Sure, he hadn't exactly been expecting sunshine and roses - he had almost kissed the guy. But this was a little overboard, in his opinion. "Okay, okay," he said, watching in amazement as the Slytherin glared daggers at him and backed away a few steps. "Sorry. Can I just..." He trailed off and shot a nervous look at Pansy, who was standing next to Draco and looking at the two of them in a way that suggested she was pretty sure they had both gone loony. "Can I talk to you alone, Malfoy?"

At this, Pansy let out a surprised gasp and stepped slowly away. Draco shot a look at her. "Where are you going?"

"You're not pushing me at him again so that you can have time to get away." Pansy eyed the tall Gryffindor before adding, "If this is who Potter sent to beat you up then you deal with him." She turned away and started for the stairway that led down into the dungeons. "I can't believe this," she muttered quite loudly - but she didn't seem to be talking to anybody in particular. "Now I have to worry about Granger attacking me, too."

"What?" Ron watched, confused, as the girl disappeared from view. Hermione was beating up on Pansy? That didn't make any sense. And Pansy thought he was going to beat up Malfoy? Huh.

The redhead turned to Draco in search of some sort of explanation, but was met with the sight of a very baffled looking Slytherin. The blond was blinking stupidly at the spot where his fellow Slytherin had been standing a few moments before.

Deciding to ask about what Pansy had said at a later time, Ron plowed ahead. "Listen. I..." And now that he had Malfoy with him, now that the other boy was standing still in listening distance and not punching him or glaring at him or running away very quickly he couldn't get the words out. Couldn't even figure out which words needed to get out.

What was he supposed to say? What could he possibly say that would justify what had happened?

"Iwasthinkingabouthermione," he said in a rush, when he saw that the blond had stopped blinking dumbly at the spot Pansy had vacated and was now staring at him with narrowed eyes.

"Wait." The Slytherin looked like he was part curious, part incredibly angry at the redhead in front of him. "What did you just say?"

"When, uh..." Ron started, but then took a deep breath to steady himself. "I was thinking about Hermione. When, you know, when I did that to you."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Granger?" spat Draco, looking suddenly furious. "Are you serious? I look nothing like that bucktoothed-"

Ron decided to cut him off before he deserved a punch in the nose or something. "I didn't say you looked like her, Malfoy. I said I just happened to be thinking about her when it happened." When the blond looked like he was going to open his mouth to bellow something unpleasant again Ron grabbed at his arm and pulled him behind a nearby statue of a hunchbacked wizard. That way, at least, they wouldn't be out in the open - in the perfect position for anyone leaving dinner to see.

He was surprised when Draco screeched and wrenched his arm away. "I said don't touch me." He was breathing fast now, and his eyes looked wild. "Did you not understand the first time or something? Don't -"

"I get it," Ron said quickly. He was a little concerned for the Slytherin. The blond looked absolutely terrified. He held up his hands again before slowly bringing them down and stuffing them into his pockets. "Sorry. I didn't think. I wasn't thinking."

Draco eyed him wearily. "You know," he said once his breathing had calmed down, "I shouldn't even allow you to talk to me anymore. This right now? It's a privilege. How could you...I mean, you-"

"I know what I did." Ron looked down at his feet, trying to get his thoughts in order. "I'm sorry. I was just...I guess it was just everything that happened with Harry and Herm, and you were just there..." He trailed off, wondering what else he should say. "If you'd like you can punch me in the stomach and we'll call it even," he offered finally.

Draco looked at him thoughtfully. "Just forget it, Weasel. This...whatever we were doing before. Sitting next to each other in class and getting locked in closets together? Maybe it's good that you did what you did." His face flushed a little and he hurriedly added, "I mean, so that we could put a stop to being friendly and civil and all that. It isn't natural."

"Fine," said Ron, feeling rather disappointed and not knowing why. What was wrong with him lately? "So then we'll just go our separate ways." He felt really stupid, saying that. Like they had been the best of friends or something. Right.

"Right," the blond agreed, finally looking up and meeting Ron's eyes. "Just give me back my wand and then we'll go our separate ways." He snorted.

"Wand?" For a moment, Ron had no idea what Draco was talking about. And then he remembered. After Ron had stupidly leaned in to kiss him the Slytherin had stormed off, leaving his broken wand behind on the bench. Ron, though, hadn't thought to take the wand with him when he'd left the Quidditch Pitch, embarrassed and angry at himself, for Gryffindor Tower. Malfoy must have just assumed that he had grabbed the wand. "Er..." he began, about to say that he'd left the thing on the Slytherin stands. He hesitated. "I don't have it with me right now," he said instead.

Why in the bloody hell did I say that?

"Well," said the blond, sounding annoyed. "When can you give it to me? I need it for classes."

"Tomorrow morning," answered Ron. "I'll meet you here before classes."

"Tomorrow morning?"

Ron nodded, clenching his hands into fists within the confines of his pockets.

"I guess that'll do," Draco allowed, and the Gryffindor carefully ignored the way he brought up slim fingers to brush the tendrils of soft platinum hair away from his eyes, the way he bit at his lower lip with perfectly straight teeth.

Ron's stomach seemed to be twisting suddenly; he felt ill. Why in the hell had he promised Draco his wand back when he didn't even have the stupid thing? Again, he wondered what was wrong with him. Because, honestly, there had to be something wrong with him. "Okay," he said, not knowing what else to say.

Malfoy nodded; turned to go. And then the Slytherin stopped and spun to face Ron again, as if he'd abruptly changed his mind about something. "Even," he said, and Ron's mind was still working that out when Draco punched him in the arm. Punched him hard.

Draco sneered and walked away.

"Stupid Ferret," Ron said, once the blond was out of sight. "I said stomach!"

Rubbing at his throbbing arm he dodged around the wizard statue and headed up the marble stairs, towards his House.