Chapter Three

Ron sat alone in his new room. All the main colors of the Hogwarts House color's were found around the room. His bed, in which he lay on, was covered in a deep red coverlet with forest green satin and velvet-like pillows. Variations of blue paintings were scattered around the four walls to probably create an atmosphere of serenity, yellow touches of trims
and lettering were placed decoratively around the room to accent all that blue.

The journey to this room went beyond the fight. It started that damned summer's afternoon. It was rooted in his mother's death. He wished she were still here to comfort him. He missed her heinous jumpers and her yells. He missed her. Ron didn't know what came over him earlier on but he knew he didn't ever want to do that again.

After Percy's cruel punishment of writing his letter, his brother left the grounds after helping him pack his things. He was then
escorted to the Infirmary, passing the concealed cot that he assumed to be Malfoy's, before being led beyond Pomfrey's offices. At the end of a dark hallway where a small light overhung, was a door. It hid this place. His last stand.

Ron had already unpacked. It helped him from thinking about what had happened. But he made quick work by himself and now he was stuck with visions of death. He may have killed someone because he couldn't rein in his feelings. He could be sent away, to Azkaban, forever for nearly killing a fellow student.

This was Malfoy's fault. He provoked him. He should have known not to touch him in that manner. He should have known that Ron was teetering on the edge of a cliff. Malfoy should have stayed in his dorm.

Ron heaved himself into a sitting position. Draco Malfoy was not at fault. He was. The victim didn't bring on their death, the
perpetrator did. And he was fully to blame. Because of his inability to control himself, shame and regret and woe punished him.

Why did things such as this have to happen to him? He had always tried to stay out of trouble's way. That is to say, as much trouble as one could avoid when being friends with the Harry Potter.

The door to his seclusion opened after a knock was sounded. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore entered. McGonagall stayed near the doorway while Dumbledore headed toward the set up chessboard.

Ron looked toward both teachers in recognition. So, the lecture was finally to begin.

"Mr. Weasley," McGonagall spoke as she closed the door, "you are here because it has finally been settled as to the handling of this delicate situation. This room has been used before for students who need careful watching over. Magical sensors are set up to monitor your actions and emotions. It appears to us that you have not dealt with the hardship you had to face so suddenly. You will be kept here, away from the others, totally, today and tomorrow. Observational purposes. After this trial period you will be allowed visitors with the permission of Madam Pomfrey, Professor Dumbledore, or myself." She placed emphasis on Dumbledore by glancing towards him. He seemed to be having a game with himself. His antics, how small or deliberate, always made Ron feel much better and more at ease. 

"You'll have someone come in, Pomfrey, who will help you readjust and cope. A bathroom is out the door and on your left, behind the red and green tapestry."

Ron remembered the gorgeous relic. But why was he allowed such a slack punishment? Or was this even a punishment?

"I have come here to check on you. I was terribly afraid when I had heard what had happened. You and Malfoy get into many quarrels but never had I thought you two would escalate to anything more than a few punches and words. I know you would never be that violent without some reason?" Her eyes had softened and her voice had quieted. Ron wanted to hug her for it.

"Many in Gryffindor are worried. You may leave whenever you deem suitable, as long as you get the approval of Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster. Please get well soon. You have such great potential." The Gryffindor sponsor added, as she exited the room.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, was staring intently at the board. "Regular Muggle's chess. The other two thought Wizard's chess would be too barbaric. Women." He joked, as he looked over at the broken young man before him.

"However, there seems to be more focus on strategy than seeing two pieces obliterate the other."

Indeed, Ron thought to himself.

"If there is anything you need, anything at all, you may come to me. I want to ensure your future."

Ron sat idly by while an old urge hit him. He rose from his seat and sat opposite the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He took over the white side. He hadn't played in months but he hadn't lost his skill either. A brutal hour passed by, in the end Ron was triumphant.

"Good to know those 50 points I awarded you in your first year weren't given to you in vain. Farewell."

As Dumbledore opened the door, Madam Pomfrey entered with his dinner tray. All that had occurred through the day seemed to misplace his hunger. For once, he had one to speak of. He didn't consume or inhale his food but he ate a quarter of his vegetables.

But once he had enough with the sight and smells of the food, Ron wanted to leave. He didn't need help. He could handle himself quite well. He wanted to leave. There wasn't much else for him to think of as he got up from his chair, walking quickly to the door and opening it.

If they were really planning on watching over him, then they may want to rethink the whole unlocked door concept.

Ron crept down the hallway. The room that was in front of him, at the end of the hall, was blanketed in moonlight. One cot stood use. He needed to know. Malfoy may not be dead, for they would have surely told him if it was so, but he could be on the brink.

Slowly, the broken yet curious young man slunk passed Pomfrey's office and quarters. He strode towards the bed and pulled back the
screen.

Malfoy seemed asleep, not unconscious. The moonlight streamed across his midsection, casting his face into shadows. Ron retrieved a nearby chair and sat the chair, along with himself, next to his fallen enemy.

Desperation overcame Ron as his inability to express his regret, his secrets, or his apologies came back to frustrate him. He hated not
speaking up but he just couldn't. He was told not to and when he did, chaos erupted.

He couldn't comprehend time but Madam Pomfrey came out, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"You must go to bed."

Ron turned to meet the nurse's gaze. What she saw broke her heart.

"He's not dead. Close to it early in the day. Plenty of bruises, scratches. He had a bruised Adam's apple, cracked jaw, and a few broken bones. You could have killed him."

Now that's what Ron wanted to truly hear. Accusations, reprimands, guilt trips. They all were what was to come. He may be mentally
unstable but he harmed a student. Unconsciously, Ron grabbed Draco's hand. He pleaded silently to the older woman to let him stay a bit longer.

"I'll give you a few minutes. I have to watch, of course."

Ron nodded, turning back to the helpless boy. How could I? Ron wondered.

The other occupant of the room moved a few feet behind Ron. She thought Ron and Draco were secretly together. Why else would the boy grab his hand?

It didn't make any sense. How could two enemies fall in love, only to end in tragedy such as this? Was Ron a batterer or was his a victim elsewhere and Draco just so happened to be the only who cared to take the hits?

She had to find out or Ron and Draco's future would crumb, together or separately.

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