What are you?

Stay Away

 The day went by quietly. Classes were as they usually were, breakfast was good, well, it was really quite delicious (judging by the two massive plates of food that Ron had scarfed down). He slept well, actually, he slept amazingly (but he didn't want to admit that to himself). Part of him thought it was because of the scarf, the tenderness of it, the smooth knit edges. It felt like a dream, in fact, it was a dream.

Ron spent his night tossing and turning in bed, trying his hardest not to think about the piece of forbidden cloth under his pillow. He couldn't stop wondering about what Harry and Hermione would have said if they saw it. Probably something along the lines of "are you mad?" Or "that's repulsive!" Either way Ron knew it would be something gut wrenchingly similar.

The very idea of it made his stomach turn. That's why when the snowy sky of the morning peaked through his window he shoved the thing into his bag. Almost as soon as he acquired the object he intended on giving it back. He didn't want to, not at all. Something in the way it made his heart skip a beat and his cheeks grow hot was just too terrible to pass up.

But, he had to. Ron knew that Draco would question him, and, after the fiasco the night before he couldn't handle anymore questions. So, he sat in divination, waiting for class to end so he could corner Draco into some empty class and give him his scarf back. It was the right thing to do after all. But, something felt strangely off that day. Every time Ron stole a glance at Draco, he looked down, staring at his hands intertwined pensively.

He hardly even looked at him. Yet, he talked to Crabbe, and Goyle, and worst of bloody all . . . Pansy. He was fine with them, peachy. Ron felt a twinge of annoyance deep in his chest, something so raw and painful that he just wanted to hide in his dorm room. "Uh hello, Ron?"

Ron was caught off guard by Harry's voice, and realized suddenly that he was gripping his quill a little too hard. He felt ashamed. "Yes, sorry. I'm just . . . tired." He said, focusing back on his parchment. He had no idea what they were doing.

He hadn't for a while honestly, because all he could seem to think about was Draco and the fact that he had a certain Slytherin scarf in his bag. "Me too, but could you help me with this maybe? It makes no sense." He asked, tapping his finger on the top of the paper. Ron found it hilarious that Harry would ask HIM of all people to help with charms work.

He was terrible at it. But, he couldn't let him down, he guessed. "Yeah of course Mate," he said, focusing somewhat reluctantly on the paper. He decided that maybe it wasn't the best time to give his scarf back. 

___

Ron sat at lunch, barely touching his rather big piece of shepherd's pie. He couldn't stop watching Draco. And, for a fleeting, infantile moment, he didn't care if anyone noticed him. But that moment left as quick as it came, and he decided it would be best to take a few bites. "What's gotten into you Ron?

You've hardly touched your food," Hermione asked, staring at him with genuine concern. He felt like everyone was asking him that, like it was a question especially brewed for him. What's wrong Ron? What's the matter with you? Are you daft?

He knew they said it because they cared, but, it felt like the question just made him more "wrong," if that's what you could call it. He just couldn't seem to stop . . . thinking. Maybe that's what was wrong. But then he looked up at where Draco was sitting, refusing to eat his food, staring off into nothingness. And his brain was scrambled.

"Oh I had a huge breakfast. I'm not that hungry," he said, tapping his fork against the food. "Well that's surprising, I think that's the first time I've heard you say you're not hungry,"