Chapter Five


Draco had heard what he said. He understood that Weasley wanted some closure in his life on one mistake he made. Weasley wanted complete focus on whatever was bothering him so much. Well, Draco wasn't going to give him the pleasure. He was scarred for who knew how long! Pomfrey had said it was temporary and with some hard work it would all pass. Ha! He shouldn't have to work on it. He was normal until now.

He hobbled over to a nearby cot, his particular one seemed too far, too fast. Draco leaned back until his head hit the unused pillow gingerly. He cautiously pulled his legs up onto the bed and tried to relax until Pomfrey would reappear a few seconds later.

"Mr. Malfoy,"

He spoke too soon. He knew she was there but couldn't she see how upset he was? He needed time alone to sort things out.

"Mr. Malfoy." She said more sternly.

"I do not feel up to talking."

"Fine. I just want to know if things went well in there."

"As best as they could. Now can I have a few minutes to recollect myself." He meant to sound more menacing but he was too drained to be the Malfoy he was.

To tell himself the truth, Weasley was supposed to be a bigger than life fantasy of him. With the risk of sounding cliché, he envied Weasley in his first years at Hogwarts. He was a poor boy who managed to love life, live life, enjoy life more than he could ever. With all the money he had at his dispense, Draco could never admit to all the fun Weasley felt. It in itself was perplexing but Draco was a teensy bit jealousy. He had continuous adventures with the boy who, if he had taken his hand when he should have, could have been his friend. That life could have been his but Potter couldn't see that.

Draco sighed as he closed his eyes to the reality of the situation. He was finally able to see Weasley and talk to him and Weasley wasn't having any of it.

"Why did I ever like him?" He whispered to no one. Or at least no one he realized. Madam Pomfrey had took it upon herself to go and check on the weaken boy. She knew her intuition was right. Now, she had to find a way to figure out what happened and how she could help those two patch things up. Young love just wasn't meant to be wasted.

The blonde laid the right side of his face onto the cool pillow. He liked Weasley in his fifth year. Why else would he verbally torment him to the extreme during Quidditch? He loathed the boy that made him realize that he couldn't be a Malfoy. He despised the boy who forced him to never be normal again. With one not-so-simple dream, Draco was thrusted into a world where he was taken. He was forced to endure the sweet pain of surrendering to Weasley. Weasley, that redheaded boy- vixen, made him realize he was gay.

To him Weasley had to have had some quality to bring about something so squashed in himself. He hated himself because he wanted Weasley. May it be sexually or romantically, he wanted Ron…until this exact moment. The boy he saw was paler than usual, freckles too harsh, even for him. His vibrant hair was limp and brittle looking. He was scrawny. His clothes hung to him…and these weren't necessarily that old of a hand-me-down.

Draco smiled. He always wanted to know what that worn fabric felt like under his touch. He wanted to reach out to him. He did it a week ago. He didn't it mean to go so far as to endanger himself but tormenting and alleviating his painful secret became too much of a priority.

But back to that fabric…

How would it feel to gently ease that cloth off of his creamy skin? Draco sighed heavily at the thought. He could just waltz into that room and demand satisfaction.

"No, I can't just do that."

He begrudgingly had to admit: he wanted to take his time with Weasley. He wanted his fantasy and he wanted it done right. Weasley owed him that much. He destroyed his internal infrastructure with one dream. Draco was shattered, doomed to repeat that fantastic slip of the mind each night or each moment he had to himself. He imagined kissing Weasley gently. He imagined moaning and rocking…he imagine comfort.

"How unlike a Malfoy…wanting a Weasley." He muttered into the pillowcase.

But he should like him that much anymore seeing as how he had seen Weasley up front. Was he always like that? Was he always so malnourished? Draco couldn't tell himself the answer. He wanted to find out…

He wanted his dream to become a reality.

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