Song: "You Are the Wilderness" by Voxhaul Broadcast.
14 | Snake and Lion
Hermione and Blaise had left the room once Draco had lain himself to bed, his fever shooting up once again for he failed to drink his medications.
"Malfoy," she said between her gritted teeth. She and Blaise were walking down the hallway. "Ever so stubborn. Ever so proud to take his medications."
The Slytherin beside her regarded her with raised eyebrows. "You know, to be honest, Gryffindor girl, I'm surprised you lasted this long."
"What do you mean?" She asked him, fixating her gaze at the end of the hallway.
"You loathe Malfoy. You hate him."
She shook her head in dismay. "To be honest, I'm surprised I lasted this long,
Ron looked up to her and instantly stood up, his sudden change of expression baffling her. "What took you guys so long?" He asked.
"His fever shot up again." She informed him. "Stupid Malfoy didn't take his capsule."
He nodded at her response, sitting down slowly. She looked at Harry, whose eyes were fixated on his almost empty plate, obviously thinking of something.
"Harry?"
His head shot up to her.
"What were you lads talking about?" She asked, sitting down to the seat between the two of them. "Pretty sure Blaise and I interrupted something."
"It's nothing." Harry and Ron said simultaneously.
She smiled up at them, noticing their odd behavior. "Well, with the put off demeanor you have right now, I reckon its something."
Ron looked down at his lap, choosing to not answer her question. Harry quickly glanced at him and decided to respond for his sake. "It's really nothing," he assured. "So, are you going to start staying here?"
"Staying here?" Zabini asked her, suddenly interested with their conversation.
"Well, she started to say. "Shacklebolt asked someone from the MLE to monitor Malfoy twenty-four-seven. Gather information about the whereabouts of other Death Eaters. Ask him about what the three of them have been doing for the past three years. Journalists from the Quibbler and the Daily Prophet have been bombarding the Ministry with questions, and Kingsley just wanted give them their piece of mind."
"Gather information regarding other Death Eaters? There aren't any of them frolicking around Britain anymore."
"Seriously Zabini, why do even continue trusting the media with information?" Ron scoffed, but he didn't come out as rude towards him or anything. He sounded like he was tired of the media withholding information. Now though, he was a bit grateful that he is involved with the Ministry now, as it caused him to know more about things like these.
"Look, I forgot to bring my suitcase with me." She informed them. "If you don't mind, I'll just go to my flat to get them, while the three of you wait here."
"I'm fine with it." Harry said.
On the other hand, Ron stood up with a sheepish look on his face. "Look, Hermione, can I talk to you for a minute?"
She blinked her eyes, judging that, by his tone, this conversation will not go well. "Oh, sure."
The two of them went into the kitchen—a very palatial one, indeed. Hermione crossed her arms, her back to the countertop, having the presumption about what this talk was going to be about.
"Look," He started, his voice low. "I understand that you want to take part in this case. Believe me, I do. It's just that. . ." He searched for the right words to say.
"It's just that what?"
"Are you sure you want to stay here? We can always ask someone else in the MLE to do it. Who knows what Malfoy will do to you."
She sighed. "Believe me, Ronald. No one else will take my place. The MLE has a lot on their plate right now and, seeing as I'm the most qualified person to take Draco on, I'm going to do this."
He took a step back away from her, his face looking like he had just seen a ghost. "Draco," he murmured. "You said Draco."
"What?"
"You said Draco, Hermione. Are you two in first-name terms now?" There was a harsh edge to his tone.
"What's this about, Ronald? She asked him, uncrossing her arms.
"Are you two...friends now?"
"No! We are certainly not." She felt quite offended at his statement. Why was he suddenly asking all these questions? She felt like he knew something she didn't. "Look, I've got to get my things now. I don't want to be out very late. So I'm going to be hasty about it." She moved past him to leave.
"Wait!" Ron looked at her with a certain defeat; anxiety, even. His shoulders sloped and his eyes kindled with some kind of melancholy, as if the Dementors had sucked out all the jovialness in him. If something was really bugging him, why couldn't he just tell it to her straight away? And why the secrecy?
She stopped in her tracks, her brown eyes piercing at him. "Is there something else you want to tell me, Ronald?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Look at you, it's like your tongue's up in a twist." She said. "Is there something else you want to tell me?"
His eyes lingered with hers for a second too long, but then suddenly, he straightened his posture, pulling back his shoulders as if he'd just taken a dose of Felix Felicis. "Nothing else," he replied.
"Are you sure?"
"I am absolutely sure. There's definitely nothing else." He smiled wanly at her.
Even though she wasn't entirely convinced, she just nodded at him. Thinking that, if there were something else, he'd tell her eventually, when he is ready. She then sauntered out of the kitchen, patting Harry's shoulders once.
"I've got to get a move on," she informed them, noticing the sound of thunder outside. "There's thunderstorm a-brewing, and I need to be back before rain hits the ground."
"Do you want me to come with you?" Harry offered, his conversation with Zabini put aside for a moment.
"No, I'm fine," she assured him. "If you could just clean up the dishes, though, if you don't mind."
He shook his head, smiling. "No, I don't mind."
"Alright, I'll be back in an hour."
- - - - - - - - - -
"Come on, where is it?" He frantically looked from underneath his bed.
Five minutes after Blaise and Hermione left his room, Draco had subconsciously placed his hand in his robe pocket, just to check if the page was still there. When it was nowhere to be found, he had basically turned his bedroom upside down, anxiety striking him.
He just hoped that no one would find it before he does.
"Come on, where are you?"
He never should've taken it out from inside his pillowcase. He should've never even placed it inside his pocket, just sitting there, as vulnerable as him. And now, worst case scenario, someone might have found it, and, if the person was smart enough, he or she might have already deduced who the owner of the bloody page was.
His fever was shooting up again, Granger had said. If anything, it added to the adrenaline he was feeling right now, and it increase the need for him to find her picture.
It's not anywhere on the floor, on his duvet. He even tried looking in the loo, even though he vividly remembered not going into the loo before he and Blaise had gone downstairs.
Someone might have found it by now, he thought to himself. If it were Blaise who had found it, he'd abruptly go up and give it to him personally. He can't imagine the page being in the hands Harry or Ron—or even worse, Granger herself. He just might prefer to be locked up in Azkaban, so he can never have to look at her face again.
He heaved a breath, telling himself to calm down. "You just have to go downstairs." He muttered to himself. "Just go downstairs non-chalantly, and ask Blaise to help you look for it. Right."
Draco slowly sauntered down the steps, looking down at every inch of the living room's floor area, the muffled voices of the three boys distant and incoherent.
"Ah, blast it." He scolded himself.
It's not on the stairs. It's not in the living room, he thought. Might as well go to the dining room.
He inhaled deeply, ignoring the migraine he was feeling. When he got to the room, he was surprised to see Blaise, his friend, play wizard chess with Weasley. The three of them looked like they were having a great time. The table was cleaned, the dirty dishes where nowhere to be found, and, instead, a chessboard was on top of it.
He looked away at the sight, jealousy running through his veins. He'd never seen Blaise smile like that; and knowing that his witty remarks nor his mischievous pranks at Potter or Weasley had been the cause of that grin, he found himself scowling at himself.
"Why the face, Malfoy?" Harry asked him. Ron and Blaise looked up from their intent game, their laughter dispersing into the air.
"Nothing, Potter," he tried his best to act demeaning. "I'm just—"
"—looking for something, mate?" Ron asked him, his tone oddly kind. The fact that he had just call him his mate, it made his stomach churn with anxiety.
"None of your business, weasel." He turned to look at Blaise. "Can I talk to you for a second, Zabini?"
He glanced over at Ron, who was looking at him expectantly.
"You go," Ron told him. "It'll just be a second, after all."
Draco pierced his eyes at him, turning around to walk to the living room. Blaise followed him suite.
"Don't tell me. . ." He said, his face filled with suspicion.
"Have you seen the page lying around?" Draco asked him, pacing back and forth.
"What? Why?"
"Yeah I know, you can say 'I told you so.'" He hissed at his friend.
"Whoa, whoa! Just calm down." Blaise put his arms at Malfoy's shoulders and looked at him in the eye, trying to stop him from pacing. "I haven't seen the page."
He groaned at his friend's statement. "It could be lying anywhere! Have you seen the way Weasley talked to me? He must have found it. I'm bloody sure of it."
Blaise shook his head incessantly. "The two of them haven't been acting weird at all, mate. We we're just playing wizard chess and—"
"I can see that."
"—I can assure you that they don't have it, mate." He assured him. "They look pretty normal to me."
"That's because I'm a bloody good actor, that's why." A voice said behind them.
Draco and Blaise turned around. Ron was there, a few feet in front of them, breathing slowly, like a dragon about to blow fire. Malfoy met his angry eyes, and even though he felt his blood running cold, he told himself to stand his ground.
"Good news, Malfoy. I found what you were looking for." He fiddled for something at his back pocket, never taking his glare off of him. He held the page up in the air, exposed, all for the four of them to see. Harry stood curiously near the base of the staircase, not knowing what was going on.
"Give that back to me," Draco growled.
"Sure, mate." Ron nodded, putting his arm down. "Not after I beat you up!"
Draco's eyes widened at this. Suddenly, the man before him starting walking towards him so fast. Ron was a bull that was rubbing his hooves on the ground. He was a lion about to latch on his prey, and even Draco, who wasn't really scared of him before, felt like he was an animal being cornered.
Oh bloody hell, he thought.
He staggered back, trying to maintain the distance between the two of them. His back met with the cool stone that bordered the fireplace.
"Oi, Weasley!" Blaise tried to block his way.
"Sod off, Zabini." He said, his eyes fixated on his prey, and on his prey only. He had his wand to his side, and when he got close enough to touch Draco, he forcefully placed the back of his arm on his neck, locking him in place. He held up the page so that he could see Hermione's face, and Draco didn't even look at it.
"How long?" Ron growled.
"What?"
The Gryffindor pushed the Slytherin's back on the stone, making him wince in pain.
"How long have you kept this picture?" Ron asked again, his eyes boring into him with so much intensity that he felt like his eyes could disintegrate him with laser.
"I'm not going to tell you." Draco hissed.
Ron placed the tip of his wand on his temple. "Really?"
Draco laughed at him devilishly. "Why the wand, weasel?" He taunted him. "Who was it who told Granger that I wasn't even worth a jinx, huh? Who was it who told her in our third year?"
"How long?" He pressed, his wand making a dimple on his temple.
"I'm not going to tell you!"
Ron hissed at him, releasing him with so much force. He then pointed his wand at Zabini. "Tell me," he began. "Or I'll break him."
He knew that Weasley was just bluffing, but he couldn't help but feel like he might actually do it. He scoffed. "Come now, Ron. I know you won't even hurt a bug."
"I'll hurt your friend if you don't answer."
Draco looked over at Blaise, whose eyes looked very frightened. He had his arms held up to a surrender, looking at him as to say: Come on, Malfoy. Just tell him.
"Ron," Harry said slowly. "Ron, stop this."
"I'm not going to stop until Malfoy tells me," he shouted. He looked over at Draco once more with so much ire and hatred, heaving heavily. "Last chance, Malfoy."
Draco didn't budge from his spot. His eyes kept on glancing back on forth from his friend to his enemy, and he still couldn't swallow his pride.
Ron ticked. "Have it your way, then," he said, turning to Blaise. "Sectum—"
"Five years!" He shouted, his guilt getting the best of him. "I had it for five years!"
The angry Gryffindor's head shot up to him, lowering his wand. His nostrils exhaled air, like a chimney exhaling smoke. He had eyes seething with anger, eyebrows shooting up, and broad shoulders that that went up and down as he inspired and expired.
Draco's shoulder's slumped. For the second time in third time in his life, he lost. He got defeated.
Ron sauntered up to him, his face looking for an explanation.
He sighed, succumbing to him. "It was from the fifth yearbook."
"Do you love her?"
"I'm not answering that."
"Fine," he replied, his voice turning into a hoarse whisper. "But tell me this: are you just trying to seem pitiful, so you can get her to stay here?"
"I don't know what your talking about."
Ron pushed him again to the wall. "I've got a deal for you," he started. "You don't touch her, or hurt her or even go near her, and I'll keep this bloody little secret of yours between the four of us."
"What, scared I'll steal her?" Draco tantalized.
"It's the deal, or it's me jinxing Zabini."
''Are you threatening me?"
"It appears like a threat, isn't it?" Ron asked him. The two of them glared at each other for minutes. Draco knew full well that he doesn't want Hermione learning about his secret, nor does he want his friend to be jinxed. The choice was clear. Besides, it's not like he hadn't done a great job avoiding her and being cruel to her all these years.
"Deal," he said.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
1, 000 BLOODY READS, EVERYBODY. THANK YOU SO MUCH!
I'm worried about Ron's temper, don't you say? I'll be updating after a week!
Solemnly swear that you're up to no good?
-Ally