Fidelity

"NO!" Harry's fist slams on the table and everything on it jumps. Ron just manages to catch his beer bottle before it skitters off the edge. "I will not allow you to come in here and TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"

Harry's face is turning an ugly shade of red as he glares at Malfoy, and Merlin, wouldn't Ron love to pound that cunt into a bloody pulp right now, right in front of the whole fucking Order. Ron takes a swig of beer, fixing his eyes on Malfoy and slams the bottle down hard on the table, getting his attention. Malfoy's eyes lock on his and a smirk creeps across his face.

"Fine, Potter." Malfoy stands, his eyes still locked on Ron's. "Send your people on a suicide mission. See if I care. What's a few less Mudbloods in this world, anyway?"

Immediately, all hell breaks loose. Ron leaps to his feet and lunges toward Malfoy, his fingers finding purchase on the collar of Malfoy's robes. He can hear Hermione yelling at him, begging him to stop as his fist connects with Malfoy's face, knocking him to the ground.

Ron climbs on top of him, pinning him to the floor. "Well, look at you," Ron sneers, his hand tightening around Malfoy's neck. "It looks like I broke your nose, so sorry."

Ron is just about to hit him again, when Harry grabs him from behind, pulling him off.

"That traitor scum doesn't belong here," Ron spits out. "We don't need him."

Harry whirls around, his eyes flashing and Ron can sense a dangerous edge of magic in the air. "Let me handle this, Ron," Harry says quietly.

Ron shakes off Hermione's hand that has been tugging annoyingly at his elbow and he looks over Harry's shoulder at Malfoy. The fuck is laughing at him, baring his blood-covered teeth and Ron can barely contain the urge to pound those teeth right out of him. His eyes flick back to Harry's and they stare at each other, Harry's fiery green eyes boring into Ron's. The kitchen is quiet now and Ron feels like he's on a stage, standing in a tableau while everyone else is watching, waiting for the inevitable moment when Ron backs down. Finally, Ron does. He never can say no to Harry, a fact he realizes that he is starting to resent. Not for years did Ronald Weasley stand beside Harry, loving him and protecting him, just to become his loyal little soldier.

"Fine, Harry. He's all yours."

Ron's eyes narrow as he watches Harry push Malfoy out the door. He pointedly ignores Hermione's scowl and grabs another bottle of beer out of Neville's hand. He can dimly hear the twins congratulating his aim, but he's not interested. Instead, he finds himself walking towards the door that Harry and Malfoy just walked through, following their heated words up the stairs.

He hangs back, watching them. He can still sense Harry's magic crackling dangerously around him, but by the time he reaches the top of the stairs it's starting to fade. Harry's face is in shadow, but he can see Malfoy's clearly. They are no longer shouting now, merely talking and Ron can barely hear their words. Ron creeps closer, stepping out of the shadows and his breath catches as he watches Harry's thumb gently trace the edge of Malfoy's face. It's only the type of gesture, Ron's notes as the blood drains from his head, one would make towards someone you're fond of, someone you... loved. His fingers loosen around the bottle, sending it crashing to the floor.

Ron runs, his legs flying, as he races down the street. He knows he wasn't supposed to see that, that Harry is going to be angry with him and he knows, dismally, as he stops and caves over, out of breath, that Harry hasn't come after him. And he isn't going to.