When Ron Was A Prick

When Ron Was A Prick

"Let me help you with that."

Harry scratched his head, and there was Malfoy, at his elbow, easing his school bag off of his shoulder.

Hermione looked clinically puzzled, and Ron's eyes bulged, almost popping out of their sockets. Harry was quizzical, even incredulous.

"Malfoy?"

"I prefer Draco."

Malfoy had a gorgeous smile, Harry absently noted.

"It means Dragon and snake in Latin, plus..."

Harry hated people who rambled, they reminded him too much of Voldemort.

"Yes, yes," he absently mumbled as he waved his hand around, as if to choke Malfoy's train of thought.

"Harry, we have potions next. This way."

Steered by firm hands, the brunet barely avoided a collision with the wall. Ron's jaw was rapidly becoming unhinged. Hermione had pulled out a dusty leather volume, and was in the middle of concentrating.

The three marched down the hall as zombies, accompanied by a sunny and chattering Draco Malfoy. Students cowered; and dug up their ice skates to use in Voldemort's lair.

Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, a little voice echoed of conspiracy. But he really couldn't be bothered to analyze the voices in his head. Not now, when Draco's hand was on his forearm, with its long, elegant fingers and manicured nails reflecting the dim lantern light.

Potions was a radical experience. Snape was all furrowed brows and menacing looks. But no amount of horrendous scowling could remove Draco Malfoy from his post of hanging on to Harry Potter's arm, and thus Snape resigned and moved onto more miniscule tasks, such as adding some hair grease to Longbottom's potion.

The evil Potions master chuckled at the initial explosion, before resuming his strict glare and sentencing Longbottom to hell.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, rumors were flying around and some even bounced off the walls. Harry got an earful before hurrying up to bed, wanting to drown himself under fluffy blankets and soft pillows.

His afternoon nap composed of silky blond hair and intense grey eyes. He wasn't entirely sure of why he wanted to curse Hermione as she dragged him out of bed, and into the library - to research this new development in the battle of Potter vs. Malfoy.

Ron followed in their wake, looking boggled. His eyes still remained independent of their sockets.

After numerous collections of yellowing pages smothered in dust had undergone consultation, a grand total of nothing had been concluded. Hermione looked quite disgruntled, and snapped at a first year who had the audacity of glancing at her hair.

The next day was even stranger. Malfoy dragged Harry to a corner of the Great Hall, and conjured up an intimate breakfast for two.

Ron was puzzled at the lack of effort Harry put into resisting. It was Hermione's turn for the wide-eye syndrome, as she whispered words of denial and clapped her hands over her mouth in shock.

Divination was quite interesting, though Harry felt something was amiss. How curious was that none of the Gryffindors had grey eyes? Grey was such a fascinating colour. More people should have grey eyes.

All in all, Harry felt Divination had been quite an odd class. Trelawney kept on rocking back and forth, while muttering The Nile is not just a river in Egypt. Harry had briefly wondered what other rivers were named The Nile, and the implications of such an infringement upon copyright laws.

For the next week, Draco Malfoy lavished attention on Harry Potter - just as Millicent Bulstrode lavished attention on her breakfast, lunch, dinner, and three other inter-meal snacks. It was becoming a routine, and Harry Potter always did like patterns.

Ron Weasley was stifled with frustration. His best friend had been sucked into the evil tar-trap called Draco Malfoy, and his other best friend, the smart one, only giggled every time he mentioned of the unorthodox situation.

Giggling was not going to defeat evil. Thus, he felt it was only within his job description as a best friend to warn Harry about Malfoy.

Harry. Malfoy's out to get you!

Huh?

He is! He's in cohorts with evil. Evil's not fond of you.

Frantic blinking: What proof do you have?! Evil likes me! Voldemort makes it his goal to visit me at least once every year. Except once. And he sent a trusted servant - Pettigrew!

Harry. Be rational. Voldemort visits you like the Mafia visits people who owe them money. Or like a selfish bastard visits his dying parents in a retirement home, slipping arsenic into their tea...

Ron! What are you talking about? You don't have any evidence against Malfoy!

Rapid brainstorm: well, I heard him talking to Zabini. About how he was going to...kill you. Yes, that's it. Kill you.

Oh. Well, maybe he was just bragging. Those Slytherins, they like to boast.

No. I think he is really planning to, uh, kill you.

Darn. If you say so, Ron. I'll owl and tell him to stay away from me.

And thus ended the friendship of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

The esteemed Draco Malfoy was seen on the arms of many available bachelors during the course of the next few weeks. In the great hall, his melodic laughter mingling with the annoying guffaw of Justin Finch-Fletchley was like a knife stabbing Harry in the back.

The poor boy hero gritted his teeth and managed not to punch Justin. The next time a snake lands in front of the ignorant Hufflepuff, instructions will be for killing.

Harry also spotted Malfoy in the Gryffindor common room, playing TwisterTM with Seamus and Dean. Sitting as fair away from the trio as possible, Harry threw them spiteful looks.

All that happiness was disturbing his endeavor of properly doing Divination homework. He never liked the game TwisterTM anyway. All that twisting.

And what's with the way Terry Boot was looking at Malfoy? Those lascivious looks were hardly suitable for an environment like Hogwarts. As a prefect, he should have consideration for the hordes of children milling around.

Though, the worse had to be Blaise Zabini. Evil does not lend itself to wandering hands. And apparently, evil was also not good at closing the doors of broom closets!

The-Boy-Who-Lived was quickly becoming very enraged.

Harry decided to have a talk with Malfoy about his questionable morals as of late. He could keep one little tiny secret from Ron. One meeting was not going to disturb the good-evil balance of the universe.

Terry Boot is a sexual predator.

Hmm.

Seamus gets drunk all the time, and Dean is hardly better than a Muggle.

You don't say.

Justin's fat.

A chuckle

Zabini has a lisp.

Raised eyebrow: what's your point?

They're hardly suitable for you.

How so?

A blush and a fumble: just because.

A smirk: and if so, who is?

Insane urge to twiddle thumbs: no idea

Well. If you don't know, I guess I'll just have to experiment mor...

A rushed kiss, complete with wet slurping sounds and sloppy tongues.

An astonishingly clear conclusion: Me. And please, if you are really trying to kill me, do it in a nice way, not like a knife...

Another kiss. This one, softer and slower, less saliva and more reassurances.

-Finis-