Rubbish Day

Ron Weasley doesn't get this.

This is Harry Potter territory. Hermione Granger territory. They fit here better - they would be right for the job. Ron Weasley is just that, another of the limitless hoard of Weasleys. A middle child, kinda average and pretty much nothing the in the scheme of things.

He got lucky enough to make friends with the Boy Who Lived in first year and Harry, dumb sot that he can be, still hasn't wised up to the fact that it was nothing more than that. Just luck. If Harry had happened to sit down in another compartment he'd probably be visiting Seamus Finnegan's family over the summer.

Ron doesn't let on that he knows this, though - he plays dumb, which isn't all that hard, or that much of a stretch, considering. He figures that if everyone knows that he knows, they might all stop pretending and it'll be more than obvious. More than staring everyone in the face. If he admits to it then everyone will start saying it and he just couldn't stand that.

Not after years of being the extra Weasley. The middle Weasley. The one everyone knows is just riding along on different people's coattails. He'd suspect himself a cabbage child, if he didn't have the hair and freckles.

Even Draco Malfoy would fit better here. And he does - leans into his shiny new badge, leans forward eagerly in his seat. Leans over Ron, whenever he has the advantage of stairs, and tries to make his authority that much more real. Ron suspects that Malfoy's authority really does carry more weight. After all, not many Slytherins are so dumb as to ignore the Malfoy heir outright. But it's a given that most Gryffindors know Ron isn't going to come down on them hard.

Hermione is the scary prefect and Ron is the fun one, but that also means Ron is the one that no one really pays attention to. Ron's not as stupid as some people think - he understands how these things work. He just doesn't know how to change them, or if he even wants to.

He tries to feel comfortable, but he can't get rid of the feeling that someone's going to nick his badge and tell him it was all a mistake. It was supposed to be Harry's, not his.

Malfoy smirks at him from across the car and shines his badge absently. He hasn't stopped doing it since the meeting started. Ron would suspect that he's as insecure as himself, if he didn't know what a pompous son of a bitch Malfoy is. No way would Malfoy ever believe himself unworthy of an honour. Even at a school he despises.

Ron nods in the appropriate places and pretends to be listening. Hermione will fill him in on the details, with all the notes she's taking. He isn't sure, but he thinks she's got a flow chart in there somewhere. Something to do with complaints and procedures. This prefect business is just two steps away from being a Ministry job, with all the rules and regulations.

He's so caught it in trying to look interested that he doesn't notice everyone shuffling out to patrol the train. He doesn't notice he's all but alone in the room until Malfoy crumples up a sheet of paper, tosses it at him and starts out of the room.

He catches it just before it smacks into his forehead. Sheer dumb luck.

"Oi!"

"What's the problem Weasley? I was just handing you the rubbish. Isn't that your job?"

"My job?"

"Taking care of the rubbish, like that Mudblood Granger? You know that's the only reason you got to be a prefect, don't you? To make sure she doesn't get out of line. They'd have chosen your precious Potter but not even Dumbledore would give a badge to a nutter like him."

Ron isn't aware of having got to his feet, or of throwing his books to the side. All he knows is that he's got his wand out and aimed right between Malfoy's eyes. "Rubbish, Malfoy? The only trash I see is right in front of me."

Malfoy has his wand out and starts to yell out a curse, but he's cut off.

"Stop it! Both of you." Hermione storms into the room, her hair bouncing against her shoulders, like a great, overexcited Puffskein. "We're all prefects and we have to set an example-"

"What kind of example does our beloved senile Headmaster expect a Mudblood like you to set, Granger?"

Hermione's eyes narrow and the hand holding her wand shakes. "You have duties Malfoy, I suggest you attend them."

"You can't tell me what to do, Granger."

Ron remembers something the seventh year who ran the meeting said. "Course not, Malfoy but as your partner, she was just offering a friendly suggestion. We prefects are equals, right?"

Malfoy takes a shocked step backwards, like he's been slapped. "You will never, never be my equal, Muggle lover."

"And I'm bloody glad of that, mate."

Malfoy spits in disgust and stalks out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Hermione folds her arms over chest, and stares at him. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What did he say to you?"

"Oh, nothing." Ron looks out the window at the blur of the countryside. They're not to far from Hogwarts, he suspects, not that the view is all that enlightening.

"Ron."

He runs a hand through his hair and tugs a little, at the ends. "Just that I was made prefect to make sure you didn't get 'out of hand' or something equally gittish. You know Malfoy."

Hermione snorts and he looks up, surprised. "Oh, likely."

"What?"

"As if you'd ever be able to control me." She smiles and he can't help but smile back.

"Suppose not, at that." Ron puts a hand on her shoulder. "Go on then, Granger. You've got duties to attend to, don't you? Don't worry, I'll be right beside you, to make sure you don't go mad with the power."

"Shut up Ron."

"Right."