Happiness Is an Angry Weasley

Weasley has definitely been avoiding me. I know for sure this time.

How do I know this?

Well, perhaps it's because when I walk into the Great Hall, he immediately leaves.

Or perhaps it's because he was mysteriously ill the day we had Transfiguration together.

Or it could even be the fact that I walked into a crowded corridor, looked up and saw him on the other end, saw his eyes widen, and saw him turn around and run in the opposite direction.

And I mean run in the literal sense.

The one thing he couldn't avoid, though, was the patrol on Tuesday night.

I walked through the hall smirking to myself. I had thought of a plan that was pure evil, pure genius, pure... Slytherin.

When we met in front of the prefects' office and meeting room, Weasley didn't meet my eyes. "I thought I could patrol the floor above and you could check the dungeons," he muttered, looking anywhere but at me.

I smirked. I couldn't help but be amused by the idea of my truly brilliant plan which I would execute tonight.

"Alright," I said. He looked up out of pure surprise.

"What?"

"I said alright," I repeated slowly, raising my eyebrows as if he were the one acting abnormally. He gave me a calculating look, shrugged his shoulders, and turned to walk the other way.

I did go to the dungeons, but I immediately took a shortcut and backtracked through the upper hallways until I knew I had to be ahead of Weasley. I hid in an alcove in the wall behind a tapestry and waited.

I'm a genius, you know that?

Weasley is now off guard completely. He thinks I'm giving him space. Ha. How wrong he is.

When Weasley walks by, I'm going to sneak behind him for a couple of steps, and then drag him into the empty classroom next to the alcove. There, I will confront him and convince him that he cannot resist me as he has been trying to.

Or, that was my plan.

Weasley passed by.

I stepped out quietly.

I followed for a couple steps.

I pointed my wand at the door to open it as soon as I had grabbed a hold of him.

Three.

Two.

One.

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It had all happened so fast that I was kind of in shock of it myself. I had grabbed Weasley's arm, opened the door with a spell, and dragged him in.

I pulled him a bit too hard, I think. Since he wasn't expecting the sudden backwards force, he toppled back onto me and we both landed on the floor of the classroom.

As I fell backwards, I grabbed for something to keep me up and all my hand reached was the door knob.

The situation currently?

I'm sitting on the floor. I'm holding a door knob. Ronald Weasley is sitting across from me.

We are not in a classroom.

We are in a broom closet.

Damn it all.

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"What the hell were you thinking, Malfoy?"

"Isn't it obvious? I thought this broom closet would make a nice place to rest."

"Malfoy."

"I thought the non-flying brooms were a lovely decoration."

"Malfoy."

"Don't the spider webs in that corner give it a quaint feel?"

"MALFOY! ...spider?"

"Yeah, over there... wait, Weasley, are you afraid of spiders?"

"Shut up Malfoy. Open the door."

"I can't."

"Neither can I, I dropped my wand."

"That's not the problem."

"What do you mean?"

I threw the doorknob at him.

"Bloody hell, that hurt," he cursed.

I smirked in the dark.

"...is this the doorknob?"

The smirk was trying to turn into a laugh. "Yep."

I heard shuffling and then felt his foot against my leg. More shuffling and then I yelped in pain.

"You bastard, you kicked me!"

"Oh, that was you? Oops."

"You're a bad liar. Sit down."

"You can't tell me what to do, Malfoy!"

"What else are you going to do?"

Silence. I would've smirked if my leg wasn't throbbing. That was going to bruise. Damn Weasley.

More shuffling and then he sat down. "Don't you have your wand, Malfoy?"

I felt in my pocket. Sure did. "Nope."

"Fuck."

"Language, Weasley."

"Fuck you."

"I see you're the gentleman I expected."

Silence for a moment. Very small amount of shuffling. "I'm giving you the finger."

I grinned. What an idiot. "Lovely."

Neither of us spoke for a while. This isn't helping. How do I start a conversation with an angry Gryffindor who I'm trapped with in a small space? He could easily hurt me. Again. I rubbed my leg where I could feel a bruise forming.

"You know, I didn't know this was a broom closet," I said nonchalantly.

"And that is supposed to help the situation how?"

"I don't know. I was hoping we'd have more room. And light. And that you wouldn't have kicked me."

I heard him stifle laughter. So hurting me is funny, is it? I would've kicked him if I wasn't trying to convince the big oaf to like me.

"What happened to your wand?" I asked.

"I had it in my hand when you nearly yanked my arm out of its socket. It's probably right outside. Or it could be in here and I just can't see it because it's bloody dark."

I smiled. "There might be a pull string light or something from the ceiling."

"I already felt around for one. I'm not as stupid as you think, Malfoy."

"Hm."

"What?"

"Just thinking."

"Thinking what?"

I pulled my legs up close to me so they wouldn't be where he expected. "You underestimate how stupid I think you could be."

He kicked out and missed me, but hit a broom that fell on my head.

"BLOODY EFFING..." I stopped and threw the broom, managing to hit him with it as well.

"MALFOY!" he shouted as the broom finally clattered to the floor.

"You started it."

"You pulled me in here."

"Touche."

"What?"

"Idiot."

Silence again. Why couldn't I stop insulting him? I was never going to get anywhere at this rate.

He broke the silence. "I think I'm bleeding."

"What? Where?"

"My head where the broom hit it."

Ouch. I felt guilty. Stupid Weasley. I reached into my pocket and felt my very expensive Chinese silk handkerchief. I sighed and threw it at him.

He jumped and gasped. "It's a handkerchief, not a banshee," I said, my voice full of amusement.

He muttered something I could barely make out.

"You thought it was a spider?"

"Shut up Malfoy."

More silence. This was going nowhere.

"Why did you pull me in here?" he asked.

"I told you, I thought it was a classroom, not a-,"

"Why did you try to pull me into a classroom, then?" Clever Weasley.

I didn't know what to say. I shrugged, then realized he couldn't see it. "Why were you avoiding me?" I asked, averting his question.

"We hate each other. Now answer my question."

"Maybe I don't want to hate you." Hm. That was actually a good answer I thought.

Weasley didn't seem to think so though. "Maybe the feeling isn't mutual."

For the first time in this whole plan, I felt like maybe I didn't have a chance. My confidence level dropped for a moment. But just a moment. "Come on Weasley, you can't resist my natural charm."

He chuckled at that. I'm making some headway here. If only I could see...

"Tell me something, Malfoy," he said.

"What?"

"Why should I trust that you want us to... stop hating each other for non-evil reasons?"

I thought about it for a minute. I couldn't possibly tell him it was because I was developing a crush on him. I hadn't even convinced him he was gay yet.

"Perhaps because I'm not nearly as evil as you seem to think I am."

He snorted. "So says the son of one of You-Know-Who's top Death Eaters, who is most likely a Death Eater in training himself."

So that was it. Of course they all thought I was going to follow my father. I suppose I should straighten that out. I should've known Weasley wouldn't be into the bad boy persona.

"I prefer not groveling at the feet of a hypocrite, thank you," I said, glad he couldn't see my face. I was getting a little uncomfortable with the conversation. I didn't want to reveal too much information about my family and their ties. He may be a bastard, but Lucius Malfoy is my father.

"Hypocrite?" he asked.

"Voldemort is a half-blood," I said. He didn't seem surprised.

"i see."

Silence again. This was going to drive me mad. I hoped Filch showed up soon.

I couldn't stand it. I had to say something. "How's your injury?"

"I think it's stopped bleeding," he said. Ew. I didn't want to touch that handkerchief any time soon.

I noticed a small line of light coming through the crack in the door. I moved towards where I thought Weasley was and ended up bumping my head on a shelf. "Ow," I said, rubbing my head and still trying to find him.

Weasley laughed and I could tell he was more to my left, so I turned more and moved towards him.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" he asked.

"I see a crack of light coming in. Hold on." I found his shoulder and moved him so that I could see one of his eyes. "Where's it hurt?" I asked.

He held up his hand and I continued to move him until I could see a smear of red. Ew. It was gross. I squinted in the dark to examine it and could tell it was just a small cut.

"I think you'll live," I said, sitting next to him against the wall.

"Here's your ha-,"

"Keep it," I said quickly. Ew, blood.

He snorted. "Afraid of a bit of blood, Malfoy?"

"It's gross. I don't want your Gryffindor germs getting all over me more than they already are from grabbing your arm."

He laughed at that. A real laugh, not as mad as the hysterical laughter in detention, but a normal laugh. It was nice.

Alright. Too many Gryffindor germs in an enclosed area. I'm getting sappy.

I felt his eyes on me and turned and could see one of his blue eyes in the crack of light. "What?" I asked, uncomfortable with the stare.

"I found the crack of light," he covered quickly, turning to look off into the dark.

I tilted my head and looked at him, now seeing the other eye. The same shade of crystal clear blue.

He turned to me and looked thoughtful and confused at the same time. "Malfoy," he said.

"Hm?" I asked, realizing I was staring at his lips. I couldn't stop though. It was like some sort of odd Slytherin magnet was stuck to them, and I couldn't tear my eyes away.

To my surprise, he leaned towards me a little. I held my breath, waiting for the contact.

And Filch opened the door.