Chapter Ten



Ron was sitting in the dark, the fire still roaring strong. That afternoon was such a change of pace, relaxing. His friends, little
did they realize, helped Ron immensely. They were able to visit more often and since that first visit. They had been by each chance they could get in the past three days. He was a bit more secure in his old skin, even though that old skin was what attracted his tormentor.

He shouldn't think of him. He shouldn't be worried about him…but he was. He would be here. Once his family found out…they couldn't stay quiet about this. His tormentor would be furious.

His breathing hitched and his world constricted. His mouth went dry. His family was in danger. He always moaned in his ear that if he told anyone, those dearest to him would suffer the consequences.

A knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Weasley, open up. Hands full."

Ron dropped his deadly thoughts and returned to the bliss of knowing that there was still some time before his rapist would find out. There was still some time to spend with Draco. Yes, he had decided on calling him Draco…if only in his mind.

A smile tugged at his lips…the first true one in weeks. He was excited, if only a little bit and if only inside. He rushed over to the door and opened it. Draco stood with two trays in his hands.

Ever since their fight, the two students still saw the other. Ron never understood why Draco continued to show up after the fight. Each visit was filled with a horrible silence that was occasionally filled with forced words and strained ideas. They had gotten over it, obviously, much to Ron's enjoyment. It showed that there was progress.

"You could have used magic." Ron suggested as he took a tray. He knew that the one he took was his since the portions were much smaller than the other tray.

"True but Pomfrey thrusted these in my hands and shooed me here." Draco didn't make that excuse up in the least bit. For some odd reason, even for her, Pomfrey cornered him once his food tray was brought out and forced him to give Weasley his tray, while his was still in his own hands.

"Oh," Ron stood in the room, trying to transcend verbal meaning and mentally ask Draco to please join him.

"Yes, well…" Draco felt very awkward. He wanted to go inside and make sure that Weasley was perfectly fine but then that fight from earlier in the week was boiling inside him nevertheless.

"I'm sorry…about that morning."

Malfoy looked over at Ron to see his eyes staring intently at the food in front of him.

"I don't accept your apologies. You should know that from the first attempts." Draco instantly regretted what he said. Actually, no he didn't. He didn't accept a Weasley's apology especially one who doesn't need to explain his irrational behavior considering the trauma he had been through.

"That's fine. What else should I expect from you?"

To Draco, it appeared that Ron was talking to himself more than him. Weasley appeared to be trying to question motives…question possibilities. He seemed to be trying to justify his suppression.

Draco had tried that all this afternoon.

"I am going to stay…to make sure you take a few bites of everything. You need a square meal."

Ron perked up slightly. "Um…sure. I guess. There's really nowhere to sit."

"There's the chessboard."

"We're not eating on my chess set. That's an atrocity against the game itself."

"Really enjoy the sport, do you? Where else are we going to eat? And don't you dare say the bed or the floor. I don't eat on either."

"Fine." Ron rolled his eyes. Why did he have to fancy a picky, spoiled prat?

"Thank you."

Ron grinned a little wider. It was nothing like his usual big and bright smile but it was rather fetching to Draco.

"You're welcome?" Ron didn't know how to respond to a nice Malfoy. "I've kept the fire lit."

"Good. That should help you. A warm surrounding should help breathe some life into you. But eating will do that as well." Draco set the tray on Ron's bed and cleared the chessboard, taking each piece off with care. He piled them on the nearby bookcase.

"I don't do the eating bit well."

"That's why I'm here. I know you must be bored here. Eat something. Gain a few kilograms? Ounces? Pounds? Troy pounds? A couple of stones, perhaps?" Draco was kidding. He never was a funny person.

"Funny." Ron chuckled. He sat down on the usual white side of the chessboard while Draco sat on the other side. There was barely room for both boys and their plates but the intimacy and closeness was something that both young wizards wanted and detested.

Draco watched Ron. "Are you going to take a bite of something or will I have to force you?"

"Did you forget? I told you why I don't eat."

"Because of him? Well, that's stupid. Don't get me wrong, it's a good reason, but don't let him kill you while he's not here. That would be quite pointless." Draco leaned back and crossed his arms.

He hoped that Ron would listen to him. There was no reason to – Draco had always been the perpetual devil whispering in his ear, never leaving the subconscious shoulder of Ron. He muttered evil things and constantly put Ron down. It must be very hard for him to deal with Draco's turnabout.

Ron mirrored Draco's actions. "Why don't you eat?"

"I ate breakfast and lunch. I can afford to miss a meal. You, on the other hand, can't. How much longer do you have? With that and the cutting, I really think this is more about extinguishing your pain the easy way than forgetting about his actions."

Ron was shocked. He was aghast. There was nothing more to it. Shock was a new emotion for Ron. He had lost that with each encounter but it was reappearing now, at this point in time, and with the person who caused it sitting across from him, it was fulfilling yet sickening.

"Don't. You have no clue as to what I've been through." Ron was confused and a bit upset. How dare Malfoy assume…?

"I don't? I don't understand?" Malfoy tried to keep a rein on his anger but how dare Ron assume what his life experiences are? "I surely don't understand wanting to end it all – end the leash that constricts around my neck as Father's control tightens. As each day that leads to the archetypal showdown of good versus evil passes, I'm forced to swallow hypocrisy. I'm forced to swallow pain, giving and receiving. I certainly don't understand about being forced to do, believe, in things when I shouldn't. I may not have been raped but I have been stripped. Not naked like you but every thought, perspective, image, identification, persona…you name it, it has been taken and replaced with horror. You are so right. I don't understand."

Ron trembled slightly as the eyes that stared back at him went deadpan, devoid of anything emotional. They reminded Ron of the old days. He began to regret allowing Malfoy into his room, into his life, his mind, and possibly his heart.

"You still don't understand." A tremor arose throughout Ron's body.

"Whatever Weasley. Eat."

"No."

Silence. Deadly, tense silence.

"Eat."

"No."

"Eat."

"No."

Silence.

"I can't believe this but I'm glad I'm leaving. I'm glad to know that I can wipe my hands clean of you. I leave tomorrow. A nice Friday
away from you. I can finally wipe my hands clean of you."

The blonde didn't move. He didn't falter such as Ron was. Malfoy's cool demeanor was frightening and welcoming. To Ron, it was a beacon…an unwanted beacon.

"I'm glad you're glad."

"Don't lie to me. You haven't been glad for ages."

"So? Why do you care?"

"I have no idea."

"Then leave it." Ron leaned forward. This was going downhill fast. His seeming crush on Malfoy was fading fast.

"I used to be jealous of you."

Ron shook his head. "Did I hear wrong?"

"No. I used to be slightly jealous of you. I care because I actually want to be jealous again. Make me jealous."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Make me want to hurt you again. Make me tremble in anger as I watch you be happy. Make me remember those times. Don't you miss it? I was jealous of you simplistic way of life. I wanted what you had, that is to say, I wanted your lucky breaks. I wished I could laugh like you. Make me want to be in your situations, your happiness. I loathe this new you. Where's the old Weasley? You are Ron to me now. I hate that. I want Weasley back. I want to punch you; I want you to claw at me. Make it hurt.

"I'm sick of this moping around. Why do you do it? You must not be Weasel. He would never be this pathetic. He would have destroyed this man who hurts you. He would have alerted everyone."

"I can't harm my family. He would kill them. The old Ron can't protect them from that." Ron was trembling at Draco's harsh words. How could he be so cruel?

Draco's mind wasn't whirling; it wasn't rushing about trying to form words and string together ideas. He was finally free of it all, for once. It felt good to slam into Ron. He wanted to shake some sense into Ron and if he couldn't do it physically, grip his shoulders and shake, then he would verbally do so.

"I hate this pathetic Ron. The old Weasley was annoying. He was loud and rude. But I respected him enough to grace him with my time, effort, and wit. This new comparison pales in his sight."

"I'm not brave enough." Confided Ron.

"Weasley must still be there. With all this self-afflicted pain and agony, I'm surprised you're even here. Granted Weasley would be off with Mudblood and Scarhead, at least this new person is alive. Don't you see? He's in there, struggling to keep you alive. He wants out. I want him out now. I want to fight. I want you to fight this peril. I want you to fight back. Do this for someone. If not you're family – if not your Housemates or teachers or friends – do it for me. I want to test my quick wit and strength against you. I believe in you. You may be skeptical. I sure am! But you have to do it. Too many people care. In my own way, I care."

Draco had never been able to let these things out. His father would never allow such an outburst of emotion. Catharsis was something that was never permitted. Draco never meant for Ron to hear, to know his feelings, but he was tired of seeing Ron waste away. He wanted his chance at taking Ron and there was no possible way for him to do that when Ron was no longer the virile man that Malfoy dreamt about.

Shock and relief waved intermittently through Ron. He never thought that Draco would care. He never thought that he held Ron in such high esteem. Everything seemed so far away. Every injury suffered was not so notable. Every tense moment that ticked away wasn't so hard. Every flash of pain slowly vanished. Every hate was dulled a little. And every new feeling was intense. The redhead couldn't understand this but didn't want to stop it.

Draco cared about him.

Ron ate a bite or two of each well represented food group. Each bite was vile as the nauseating impressions flickered. When he stopped mid-bite, he looked at Draco, who was watching him still, mouth pressed in a thin line. He ate.

He actually ate his dinner. Not all…there was still a bit of bread left but his broth was gone. Vegetables, gone. Fruit cocktail…gone plus some heavy syrup floating in the container. Ron noted that each bite wasn't so difficult. He knew that he could associate eating with company, comfort, warmth from the fire and from his dining partners again. It was still painful but it was endurable.   

"Thank you Weasley."

"You don't have to…"

"What? `I don't have to'…what?" Draco was sickened with his food. He would have to sneak off and nip some chocolate from Pomfrey's office.

"Leave. You don't have to."

"Good." He relaxed. Weasley still wanted him here.

The two sat quietly, letting reality settle along with food – or lack thereof.

"It was on Harry's birthday. He hates Harry so much…I was alone, writing to Hermione, hoping she could come earlier. He said he'd ruin our lives if I spoke…so I didn't…I haven't…until now." Ron sighed heavily. He wanted to share with Draco his Hell. He wanted to make sure that Draco knew what had happened, why he was this way. His eyes began to glaze over as he realized the pain he would soon relive. He was willing to go through the tears if it meant getting better. If it meant that Draco could have it the way it used to, then it was all worth it.

"Go ahead," murmured Draco, "I'm listening."

"It's been six months. The first two weeks…almost everyday." His voice cracked as his mind's eye watched…remembered being slammed, face first, against a wall. His cheek pressed close, tears streaming freely and openly. "It was so painful…it burned those first few times. I wanted to vomit. I think I did." He placed his hands on the chessboard.

What was Draco to do? He now had more insight, more unwanted insight, into the harsh world that is Ron. Could he just go off, lay in his bed, knowing what he did, so unaffected? Draco was learning too much, too soon. But being with Ron, fulfilling his deserved fantasy, was worth it.

Ron's tears welled and spilled faster and harder as the pain, the overwhelming scope of the situation had finally taken its toll in
front of Draco. And the other boy wanted to help.

Slowly and cautiously Draco laid his hand on the table, creeping it towards Ron's hand. As easy as he could, Draco lowered his hand on top of Ron's. He yanked it back.

"I'm sorry." He understood. Placing his hand on top was probably a little too advanced.

Ron regretted his body's instinct and convinced it back onto the table.

Draco seized this opportunity. Once again, he placed his hand on the table and, watching Ron's reactions, eased his hand under Ron's palm. With just his fingertips, he brushed the clammy palm gently. He saw Ron shiver and he pulled away, afraid that he had hurt Ron.

"Don't." Ron privately disclosed to Draco. He gazed into Draco's gray eyes. "It tickled. Please, continue." He pleaded.

How could Draco refuse him?

He replaced his hand. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just don't know what to do with the other hand." Draco encapsulated Ron's hand, his left stroking his palm with the other lay partially on top.

Amazingly, Ron relaxed. He stared at Draco, who stared at him back. What was going on? Could it be possible that Draco felt something other than guilt or regret or obligation? Ron couldn't tell truthfully but he let the sweet embrace touch and calm him.

When Ron was settled, Draco excused himself, taking the trays with him. The two didn't need to trade any words; they understood.

Draco dropped off the trays next to Madam Pomfrey's office door and retreated to his bed. This was his last night…he couldn't have been anymore depressed. With the actions that just transpired, how could he leave just yet?

"I see you ate with Mr. Weasley."

It was the only healer Hogwarts officially had. Draco didn't want to talk to her as of now. He could tolerate her at this point but right now, he just wanted to bask in recent events.

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

"Not if you don't want to stay the extra night or weekend." She knew she was right about the affairs called love. "He held your hand every night while you were unconscious. I could tell he was extremely sorry."

Weasley held his hand! "Really? For three days straight?"

"Not straight." How little (or much) she knew. "Each night or longer."

"I want to stay the weekend. I believe his family will be coming. He'll need all the…"

Should he say support? Ron's whole remaining family was coming. Wasn't that enough?

"He'll need all the support he can get. I'll just say you had a dizzy spell and I want to keep you for observation." She hurried off.

Draco finally appreciated the woman's talents.

.......................................................................................................................................................................................................