Common Ground

In love, it is the weak who strike and the strong who caress. José Bergamín

"'Mione, I don't know if I can do this. I just...I don't know." Ron sat on the edge of his bed, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Hermione was sitting on the adjacent bed that belonged to Harry, looking exasperated.

"Ron, he's your best friend, practically your brother. He needs your support. He won't be able to let himself to be truly happy unless he knows you'll be there by his side, and by the side of whomever he loves."

"I've tried Hermione, I really have. I've been the absolute picture of kindness towards Malfoy since this whole...thing...started. I've not said one word against him - not one!"

"I know you've held your tongue, Ron. But look, Harry knows you hate Draco-"

"Malfoy. I hate Malfoy. And who says Harry loves him? Did he say that? When?"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about, Ron. You won't even use his name!" Hermione threw her hands up in frustration. "He's not the same pson he was back then, Ron, and quite frankly, neither are you. It's not enough for Harry to know that you tolerate Draco. He needs you to give Draco a chance. A second chance."

"Second chance!? Hermione, we've done nothing but give him chances since the first bloody day we got here! He had been horrid to us from the beginning, and then all of a sudden his father goes and gets himself killed by the Dark Lord he serves, and suddenly he's all over Harry; I'm supposed to be happy about this?"

"You know Harry. It's all or nothing for him. He needs to know that you would at least try to give Draco the benefit of the doubt. Just please try, Ron. For Harry. For me."

"Are you finished?" Ron glared at his girlfriend, irritated that she was questioning his loyalty to his best friend.

"Fine. Be like that then. But, if you lose Harry over this, you'll only have yourself to blame. I know you care for Harry, and I know you only want what's best for him. I want that too. But Harry's the only one who can decide that. As much as we try to protect him, Ron, we can't protect him from his own heart. He does love Draco, and I believe that Draco loves him. If you would only watch-"

"If you think I'm going to sit there and watch them paw at each other you're out of your mind."

"-the two of them together. Ron, honestly, you can be so pig-headed sometimes. If you would just open your eyes and see the way that they are with each other, the way that Draco treats Harry. You used to treat me that way once."

"I have no interest in making friends with Malfoy. End of discussion." Ron deliberately ignored the comment about his own shortcoming, too focused on his own building rage to even apologize.

"Then it'll be your loss, Ron. And you will be responsible for the hurt Harry is going to feel over your own prejudices and stubbornness. In love, it is the weak who strike and the strong who caress. But Ron, if you strike this time, it'll be Harry who will be your victim. Not Draco Malfoy."

"Whatever."

Ron watched as his best friend of six years stomped out of the boys' dormitory, slamming the heavy oak door behind her. He fell back on his bed, staring up at the bed's canopy. Hermione had dragged him up there for this discourse after he had made a rather sarcastic remark when Harry had mentioned a gift that Malfoy had gotten him from Quality Quidditch Supplies. He had immediately regretted it, of course, and could remember the flash of torment that crossed Harry's features for that brief moment before Harry left the library.

Ron sighed heavily as he crossed him arms behind his head. He let his mind travel back to Harry's initial revelation regarding his blossoming relationship with the junior Malfoy. It had been on the train back to Hogwarts after the summer holiday. Harry and Ron had been walking back to their compartment after visiting the lunch trolley for some Chocolate Frogs when Draco Malfoy passed by Harry and actually said 'Hello'. Ron wasn't sure if he had been surprised more by Malfoy's gesture, or by Harry's casual reply.

~*~

"Hello Potter." Draco slowed his steps, turning his head to look at the taller Gryffindor, the usual malice lacking from both his tone and countenance.

"Hey Malfoy." Harry let a small, albeit evident, smile cross his lips. Ron didn't see the twinkle that flashed in Draco's eyes.

Ron had watched Malfoy continue his trek to his own compartment, and then turned to stare at Harry.

"What the...Did Malfoy just say hello? To you?"

"Um, yeah." Harry continued up the aisle, Ron following closely behind.

"Is there a reason why you're acting like this is an everyday occurrence?"

"Well, it sort of is."

Ron nearly tripped over his own foot as they reached their compartment door. Ron looked at Harry sideways, not sure if Harry was kidding or not.

"Right. Okay. Hermione, Harry's finally gone round the bend. Better let Dumbledore know he'll have to find himself another savior for the wizarding world."

"Say again?" Hermione looked up from her revised copy of Hogwarts, A History and took the proffered Chocolate Frog from Ron.

"Harry here has taken to having normal, every day conversations with ferret boy."

Harry sighed. "It was hardly a conversation. He simply said 'hello' and I replied."

"Did you hear about his Father? I heard his Mother barely leaves the manor now." Hermione laid the book aside, deciding to take her place in the conversation.

"Bit of poetic justice when you think about it?"

"Can we stop talking about Draco now?"

Ron looked sideways at Harry for the second time in about fifteen minutes that day. Something was definitely amiss.

"Alright Harry, spill it."

"Spill what?"

"First you say 'hello' to the junior Death Eater like it's nothing, and now you're calling him 'Draco' like you're old friends or something!"

"Can't you just bloody well leave it, Ron!?" Both Ron and Hermione flinched at Harry's sudden outburst. Harry quieted instantly and looked up apologetically, running a hand through his thick, dark hair.

"Sorry. Look, you both may as well know this now. Dra...Malfoy and I, well, we've called a truce of sorts."

"You've got to be joking. You and Malfoy? Friends!?"

"Yeah, Ron, I guess you could call us that. I mean, it's not like he invited me over for dinner or anything, but..." Harry suddenly seemed at a loss for words.

"What's going on Harry?" Hermione leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. She had that look in her eye that told Harry she sensed a conspiracy.

"We, um, we sort of talked this summer. Wrote letters, I mean. After his father was murdered."

Ron pressed his back against the seat, a stunned look and not-quite-veiled betrayal playing across his features.

Hermione looked to Ron, then back at Harry. "What did you talk about?"

"Just...things. I don't want to betray his confidence, Hermione."

"HIS CONFIDENCE!?" Ron stood up, his head bumping sharply against the overhead compartment as he towered over Harry who was still sitting.

"Ron, please." Harry wouldn't meet Ron's eyes, staring instead at his hands clasped in his lap.

"Ron, just sit down. Let Harry explain." Hermione had put her hand on Ron's forearm, trying to press him back down into his seat.

"Apparently he's too busy keeping Draco's secrets to explain why the hell he would be writing letters to him." Ron finally gave in to the pressure on his arm and sat back down, rubbing the crown of his head where a small lump was already forming.

"Look, his Father was murdered. By Voldemort. Is it so hard to understand that he might need someone to talk to?"

Hermione cut in, seeing Ron open his mouth to no doubt spew more vitriol. "Well, no. But why you, Harry?"

"I'm the only person he had ever known to lose a parent." Harry was surprised at how quiet he sounded.

"So he initiated the letters?" Hermione looked at Harry in mild bewilderment.

"Yeah, about a week after the news broke. Actually, I hadn't even heard about it at that point. I just got this weird, cryptic note from him and I had no idea what he was on about. I didn't even respond until after Sirius had owled me a copy of the Daily Prophet."

"Why did you write back?"

"I don't know really. Morbid curiosity, maybe." Harry let out a small humorless laugh. He looked back at Ron, who had so far remained quiet, just listening to this exchange between Harry and Hermione and looking dazed.

"It's alright, Ron, really. Don't be angry, ok?" Harry waited for some form of acknowledgement. It never came.

Ron said nothing and continued to stare at the passing scenery. Harry got the unspoken message and turned away. The rest of the journey passed by in silence with the exception of Hermione's occasional mutterings about "stupid pig-headed prats."

~*~

Ron thought about what Hermione had said about watching the two of them together. Truth be told, that was practically all Ron did these days. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around this newfound relationship. Ron had begrudgingly watched the awkward and almost secret friendship as it morphed and changed into the one thing he had been secretly dreading, but knew was inevitable.

The letters between Harry and Malfoy hadn't stopped just because the summer did. Twice, sometimes three times a day, Harry would get an owl from Malfoy. At first, Malfoy never used his own stunning eagle owl, opting instead to use the generic and indistinguishable school owls. Harry had done the same, apparently following Malfoy's lead.

Ron had developed a keen instinct, however, on determining when the letters were from Malfoy, and when they were from Sirius or Lupin. Ron didn't even need to look at Harry's face to know when a letter was from Malfoy. He just needed to look at Harry's hands. If the letter was from Sirius or Lupin, Harry would read the letter with both hands gripping the sides a bit too tightly, like he was afraid that every next line would bring bad news. If the letter was from Malfoy, he would hold onto the letter with his right hand, and his left hand would either be shoved into his pocket or he would be biting his left thumbnail. Ron recognized the nail biting as one of Harry's nervous gestures when he was excited about something, and that made him feel ill.

By the third month, however, the news had quietly spread of their correspondence and Malfoy's owl became very busy indeed. Ron thought he'd seen more of Hedwig in those first few months of school making deliveries to the Slytherin table than he had in their entire fifth year. Ron still felt a twinge of disgust twisting in his stomach every time the owls appeared. But there was also the curiosity to contend with - he was simply dying to know what was in those letters. He was pretty sure that neither Harry nor Hermione realized just how tempting it was for him to rifle through Harry's things and violate that trust. But he hadn't.

Despite Hermione's accusation to the contrary, Ron definitely noticed the way that Malfoy's behavior changed towards Harry. He noticed it the first time he saw Malfoy take a piece of loose thread off of Harry's shoulder with a lingering caress. He noticed it the first time he saw Malfoy push a stray lock of hair off of the silver rim of Harry's glasses, an enthralled gaze in Malfoy's eyes. He noticed it the first time he saw Malfoy's hand brush against Harry's for longer than what was necessary. Oh yes, he had seen the development coming a mile away. Ron wondered if his subconscious hadn't seen it that day on the train. When Ron looked back on it, he could vaguely remember a shine in Harry's eyes when he first spoke of Draco and not of Malfoy.

Ron had also regarded Harry's manner where Malfoy was concerned. There was a certain vulnerability that radiated from Harry whenever Malfoy was present. Harry had always been pretty much exposed to the public, but with Malfoy it was different - this particular openness was given willingly to the Slytherin, handed over to him all wrapped up in a neat little bow. It unnerved Ron, who was still wary of Malfoy's motives despite all evidence to the contrary. It chilled him on occasion to see Harry look at Malfoy like he was about to lay all his worldly possessions at his feet for just one touch. Ron had once overheard Harry telling Hermione that being touched by Malfoy felt like a thousand tiny explosions erupting just under his skin; that he could still feel Malfoy's touch hours after he'd gone. Ron gave a brief thought to just how far Harry had gone with Malfoy, and violently pushed it aside.

What did Hermione mean by what she said? In love, it is the weak who strike and the strong who caress? What the hell was she on about? Hermione had taken quite a fancy to poetry after her Muggle Studies course had devoted a few weeks to it last year. Since then, she seemed to have taken her favorite lines and inserted them into her every day vernacular. She carried around a small book of Shakespeare's Sonnets with her daily workload, sometimes reading it during lunches. When Ron had first come upon her reading the petite leather-bound book, he had stupidly asked what it was and had been subjected to a twenty-minute synopsis on Shakespeare's relevance to the modern notion of love and romance. There was no doubt in Ron's mind that this latest rambling had something to do with one poet or another. He had no clue what it meant, but he had felt the full brunt of Hermione's warning.

He would lose Harry if he didn't make this choice, and soon. Would he be the weak one in their friendship and strike out against Harry, rejecting him for loving Malfoy? Or could he be strong, embracing this new relationship and the happiness it seemed to bring his best friend?

Ron squeezed his eye's shut as the past transgressions of Draco Malfoy flooded into his brain. From that first meeting on the train where he tried to turn Harry against him, to the constant biting remarks about his family's financial status. He would never forget the moment Malfoy had stated, to whom he thought was Crabbe and Goyle, that he wanted Hermione to die. Malfoy trying to scare Harry into a steep fall during a Quidditch match. Malfoy trying to get Hagrid fired and nearly getting Buckbeak executed. The 'Potter Stinks' badges during the Triwizard Tournament. His blatant disrespect towards the murder of Cedric Diggory.

And then, nothing.

When they had returned to school for their fifth year, Malfoy was noticeably subdued. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had had a lengthy discussion one night in front of the Gryffindor common room fire about whether or not Malfoy had gotten his chance to come face to face with Voldemort that summer. Aside from a few sneers and the occasional muffled comment, they had been virtually ignored by the once-relentless Slytherin. By the end of that year, they had almost managed to forget Malfoy even existed. It was only the constant wondering when the Malfoy ambush would arrive that had kept the blond in the back of their minds.

Ron had also witnessed Malfoy's slow but sure separation from the rest of Slytherin house. The beginning of fifth year had seen Malfoy still being flanked by his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, but it appeared to be more out of habit than necessity. Malfoy still held his spot as leader of his yearmates at the Slytherin table during mealtimes, but as the year progressed he had slowly shifted down the table until he was sitting at the end practically by himself. Ron wasn't sure if Malfoy had left them behind, or if his housemates had exiled him from their tight-knit junior Death Eater society. The only Slytherins that seemed to openly converse with Malfoy, albeit lacking the reverence that had existed before, were Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson. Parkinson had ceased her attempts at coupling with Malfoy and had instead turned her attentions to Terrence Nott. Malfoy hadn't seemed the least bit bothered by it, and now Ron knew why.

After Harry's revelation about the letters, Ron had watched the two of them like a hawk. He knew that Malfoy felt more for Harry even before Harry realized it, and it disgusted him to watch Harry fall victim to Malfoy's intentions. Ron had tried to talk to him about it, only to be harshly rebuffed by both Harry and Hermione. When his prediction had finally come to pass, Harry had apologized, but the damage had already been done - Harry and Malfoy were together.

Ron wasn't sure he would have believed that the affection went both ways had he not been witness to the first of many stolen kisses between the Gryffindor and the Slytherin. It had happened just one week after his quarrel with Harry and Hermione, in the stairwell that led to the Slytherin common room.

Professor McGonagall had implemented nightly bed checks due to a rash of first and second years getting caught in the corridors after hours. Never one to let a silly bed check keep him from mischief, Harry had taken to sneaking out under his invisibility cloak to meet up with Malfoy down by the Slytherin dorms. Ron had begrudgingly agreed to go and track Harry down one night when Harry had failed to return in time for McGonagall's impending check. He knew just where Harry would be, and had set out to fetch the other boy before both of them got a month's worth of detention.

Ron had rounded the corner of the corridor that led to the Slytherin dorm, and just before turning towards the staircase he heard soft whispering coming up from below.

"I'm sorry."

A pause.

"I'm not."

Another moment of silence had stretched until Ron decided it was safe to intrude, and he walked in on a scene he would never forget barring a good memory charm.

Harry stood on the narrow stone steps, his body flush against the Slytherin who was pressed against the wall. Their arms were wrapped so tightly around one another that Ron had trouble differentiating which limb belonged to which body. Malfoy's face was nestled against Harry's neck; Harry's chin resting against Malfoy's shoulder. And then he saw it. A barely imperceptible movement by Malfoy that brought his lips to Harry's jaw. The movement continued up to Harry's cheek, and Harry turned his head to meet Malfoy's mouth with his own. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were kissing, slowly and tentatively, like it was the first time. Ron found out later that it had, in fact, been the first time.

Ron had let out an unstoppable gasp, and the two sprang apart so quickly that Ron almost doubted that what he just saw had really happened. Harry said a terse farewell to Malfoy, walked up the stairs to meet Ron, and they walked back to the Gryffindor common room in uncomfortable silence. If the cloak hadn't necessitated such close proximity, they'd have been walking on opposite sides of the corridors. They didn't speak to each other for the following two days, and neither boy broached the subject of what Ron saw. He hadn't even told Hermione about it.

From that point on, Ron tried to treat Harry just as he had always done. He showed the appropriate amount of concern about Harry's welfare, joked with him about homework, and even shared the occasional heart-to-heart sentiments with Harry about his own relationship with Hermione. Harry never attempted to do the same with Ron. There was a new wall between the two friends, and it had the name of Draco Malfoy etched all over its surface. Ron knew that Harry confided in Hermione, and sometimes Seamus or Dean, but there was an unspoken agreement that Harry never talk to Ron about his status quo with Malfoy. Ron didn't mind the existence of this stipulation, but he did feel somewhat guilty and a bit sad that it had been forced between them.

Ron sat up abruptly, awash with an overwhelming need to get his best friend back. He missed Harry, even though he was already there. He missed the shared secrets and the arcane whisperings. He missed the shine of freedom that he used to see in Harry's eyes when they were just hanging out - the shine that was now in the possession of one Draco Malfoy. He did love Harry, and if loving Harry meant that he'd have to make peace with Malfoy, then so be it. Of all the things he had let Malfoy do to him over the years, he wasn't about to let him injure what had become the most important friendship of Ron's life.

He swung his feet off the bed, standing resolutely, determined to fix what he himself had helped damage. He would find Harry, talk to him, and make things right.

Ron walked to the door that Hermione had slammed shut behind her, and headed down the winding steps that led to the common room. He came to the foot of the stairs, and there sat Harry and Draco on the couch by the fire. They turned to look at him, having heard his descent, and Draco then looked to Harry with trepidation in his eyes. Ron took a moment to gather himself, having been unprepared to face the both of them together, and walked casually over to settle on the arm of the couch. He yielded Harry an atoning smile, then turned his attention to Draco.

"Either of you fancy a game of Exploding Snap?"

~~**~~

fini