The Corresponding Emotion

"Now, the first thing you need to keep in that thick head of yours," said Malfoy, "is mystery."

"Mystery?" asked Ron.

Malfoy took his eyes off the road for a minute, looking at Ron as if he were trying to explain broom magineering to a Muggle. "Yes, mystery. You and Potter have been together so long, he thinks he knows everything about you, and is thus bored. But if you let him think there's still something about you that is different and exciting, then he'll have a reason to pay attention to you again."

"But I'm not any different than I was before I left England," said Ron. "I'm just me."

"Unfortunately," said Malfoy. "But you need to make him think there is something new and exciting about you, or something that's always been there that he just hasn't noticed yet."

Ron stared out the window, trying to think of what he had to be mysterious about. "How?"

"What do you think Potter is expecting you to do the first time he sees you?" Malfoy asked.

"Er... I reckon he's expecting me to er..."

"Blow up and start yelling at him? Cause a scene?" Malfoy's lip curled slightly in amusement. "Try to hex him into belching slugs?"

Ron snorted. "Probably."

"Then you mustn't give him the satisfaction," Malfoy said. "You need to pretend you're over him, that you've moved on and you're just here to settle the business of a break-up."

"He's not that stupid," said Ron.

"He thinks he's in love with that girl, of course he's that stupid," said Malfoy irritably. "And if he's expecting you to curse him and pitch a wobbly, and you don't, the next thing he'll expect you to do is beg." Malfoy reached over and poked Ron hard in the arm, emphasising each word with another poke. "You. Must. Not. Beg."

Ron swatted Malfoy's hand away. "If I'm not supposed to fight with him, and I'm not supposed to beg, then just what the sod am I supposed to do?"

Malfoy threw up his hands in exasperation. "Haven't you been listening to anything I said? You have to be mysterious. Don't tell Potter how scared you were on the plane -"

"I wasn't scared!"

" - or about Nott robbing you and taking your wand, or about sleeping outside the consulate, or anything else that's happened to you since you got this stupid idea in your head to chase him down."

"Can I tell him about the fire ants?"

Malfoy ignored that. "Make him think you've been having loads of fun without him, living it up and enjoying life. He won't be expecting it, and he'll want to find out why you're so happy without him."

"But I'm not happy," said Ron.

"Then pretend, Weasley," said Malfoy, gritting his teeth. "And you can start by pretending that we're here together."

Ron scratched his head. "But we are here together."

"Not together, you idiot. Together together."

"What would I do a stupid thing like that for?" Ron blurted.

"Because," said Malfoy, "can you imagine what Potter will do when he realises that you're supremely happy with me of all people? He'll go stark raving mad with jealousy, trying to figure out what I've got that he doesn't." He smirked, drumming his thumbs against the steering wheel. "I could give him a long list of things I've got that he doesn't, but that's beside the point. He'll be so busy trying to figure out why you're so much happier with me than you ever were with him that he'll forget all about his Quodpot Girl and focus on you again."

"But you're not gay!"

Malfoy's cheeks flushed ever so slightly pink. "Even more reason for Potter to go ballistic."

Ron frowned. It all seemed so complicated, and he and Harry had never played these kind of games before. There had never been a confusing flirting phase between them; it had just sort of naturally happened, neither one of them really knowing how, and all this talk of mystery and jealousy made Ron feel very uneasy. He didn't have any better ideas, though, so there wasn't much to do except go along with Malfoy's plan.

"Okay," Ron said reluctantly. "So what next?"

"What's next is that you think of this like a war," Malfoy said. "Don't go into it without a strategy. We're going to be very careful about how you approach Potter for the first time - you choose the field of battle, not him. And never, ever let him see how much you desire him. Never tell someone you want them. It ruins everything."

"Ruins things?"

"And you need to learn how to pout. Like this." Malfoy put out his bottom lip just the slightest bit in demonstration.

"Pout? Why?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "So you can keep him constantly wondering what it is you really want. Tell him yes when you really mean no, and no when you really mean yes, and make him figure it out on his own. Don't make it easy for him. Easy is boring, and boring is bad. Do you understand?"

"No," said Ron.

Malfoy huffed in a nearly Hermione-like fashion. "You don't?"

Ron grinned. "Stupid git."

The resort was more beautiful than Ron could have imagined. The afternoon sun was bright and warm but not unbearably hot because of the light breeze, and everything seemed to be covered in a layer of nearly tangible quietness. He wandered around the main lobby area while Malfoy went to check in. With its gleaming floors and immaculate fabrics, it was a place that should have made him feel very much out of place in his rumpled clothes and scuffed shoes, but somehow he didn't. Glancing back at the reception desk, he thought Malfoy might be occupied for a few minutes, and he had a sudden urge to get a peek of the ocean.

Ron crossed through the lobby and down the hall to a large veranda with a quaint, open-air café that afforded a spectacular view of the ocean. He'd only been to the beach a few times back home, but this looked nothing like an English beach. A wide expanse of cream-coloured sand stretched along the water as far as he could see, separated from the resort itself by gently rolling sand dunes covered in softly waving sea grass.

"Brilliant," he whispered to himself, and for a moment he forgot why he was there in the first place.

And then out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of brilliant green, and he was jerked back to reality as he realised that Harry and his girlfriend were sitting across the room, laughing and talking animatedly in a way that made Ron's heart lurch up into his throat. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but part of him desperately wanted to know what had them so amused, so he tried to make his way over to them without being seen.

There was a large potted plant just a few feet away from their table. Ron nonchalantly strolled over and ducked behind the plant, peering through the leaves to get a better look at them. Harry was still glasses-free and sporting a shirt that would have suited Gilderoy Lockhart better, and Jennifer's sandaled toes were sliding up his leg under the table, rubbing slowly back and forth. Harry ducked his head and gave her the sort of shy grin that Ron was sure he'd be the only one to ever see.

Jennifer laughed and took a sip of her iced tea (Ron's nose wrinkled up at the very idea), and Ron caught a glimpse of the very large diamond on her left hand. Ron leaned on the plant a little more, straining to hear a bit of their conversation.

Then Harry looked up and for a moment Ron was absolutely sure Harry had looked right up at him.

Ron froze, then ducked down behind the pot, his heart pounding.

"What's wrong, Harry?" he heard Jennifer ask.

"I - I think I just saw Ron," Harry said uncertainly. There was the barest hint of a tremor in his voice.

Bloody hell! Ron thought, frozen to the spot.

"I'm sure it's just your imagination," she answered, making soothing noises. "Don't you want dessert? You hardly ate any of your lunch."

There was a squeak of a chair being pushed back, and Harry said, "I'm going to go look. Wait right here, all right? I won't be but a minute, I promise."

Shit shit shit shit! Ron thought in a panic, trying to imagine what Harry would say if he saw Ron lurking behind the potted plant like a Colin Creevey-ish fanboy. He jumped to his feet and bolted, but he only got three steps away before he crashed headfirst into a waiter with a dessert cart.

There was a nasty squelching sound and the clang and crash of metal and glass as Ron landed face first in an elaborately decorated cake, and filling and frosting and fluffy meringue exploding all around him. Shrieks and startled exclamations echoed all around the room as he crawled out of the ruins of the cart, wiping frosting from his eyes and dashing out of the room. He prayed that Harry hadn't seen him, and he had never wanted to be able to Apparate more desperately than he did at that very moment. Even the crushing humiliation of a Slytherin chorus faded in comparison to the humiliation he felt just then.

He'd ruined everything.

"HOW am I supposed to help you if you insist on acting like a clown!" Malfoy said as Ron stripped off his cake-encrusted shirt and threw it into the bathroom sink. "What - what the hell were you thinking, Weasley? Didn't you listen to anything I said on the way down here about being mysterious and calm and not letting Potter know how desperate you are to get him back?"

"I wasn't expecting to see him right then, okay?" Ron yelled. "I just wanted to get a look at the ocean, and there they were, sitting there all laughing and talking and being couple-y!"

Malfoy threw up his hands. "How could you be so stupid? I always wondered if you had two brain cells to rub together, and I suppose I know the answer to that one, don't I?"

"I - it was just - well you saw her, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I saw her, and unlike you, she wasn't covered in dessert and crawling across the floor!"

Ron gritted his teeth and started rinsing out his shirt. "That's not what I meant, Malfoy."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I saw her," he said. "She was..."

"She was what?"

Malfoy shrugged. "You saw her."

Ron threw the shirt back into the sink. "Fine, I get it. I see what you mean - I'm not good enough to compete with her. I got it - "

"I didn't say that!" Malfoy protested.

"You don't have to, okay?" Ron stormed out of the bathroom, plopping down on the edge of a bed to yank off his ruined shoes. "I can't do this - I can't play this stupid game. I'm supposed to be this stupid airhead who says yes when he means no, and no when he means yes, and I can't do it, okay? Happy? Smile! Sad? Frown! Use the corresponding face for the corresponding emotion! I've only got the emotional range of a teaspoon after all, I don't have room for anything that isn't real!" He threw his shoes into the bathroom. "But you? Oh no - you want this carefree, sexy, manipulative - "

"It's not me who wants it!" said Malfoy, sitting down suddenly beside Ron and making a frustrated gesture. "I don't want that!"

"Then what do you want?" snapped Ron.

"I want you..." Malfoy floundered.

Ron's chest tightened uncomfortably. "You want me?"

"I want you... " Malfoy's hand closed around Ron's upper arm, squeezing ever-so-slightly, and when his eyes locked with Ron's, Ron couldn't look away. "I want you... to ... make Potter suffer. I want you make him feel like even though you're right there in front of him, he can't have you." His hand loosened its grip on Ron's arm and fell away. "That's all."

Before Ron could reply, Malfoy had stalked out to the balcony and was leaning against the railing. A strange and uncomfortable feeling was building up inside Ron, and he briefly considered going out to ask Malfoy what he meant by that. But as he watched the wind ruffle Malfoy's hair, silhouetting him against the greyish-blue of the Atlantic, he thought he wasn't sure if he wanted Malfoy to explain, so instead he went into the bathroom and took a very long shower.