Chapter Seven



Draco was floored, figuratively. Literally, he was shell-shocked. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it.

It made too much sense. It was obvious.

Malfoy got up. His anger towards the redhead was pushed into the far recesses of his mind. He was bitter. He wasn't able to walk properly because of Weasley. However, he could only blame himself. He provoked Weasley…why was he pitying him so? What was this feeling that panged in his chest? It seemingly gripped his heart each time he looked into the face of Weasley.

He cautiously sat down on the edge of Ron's bed, back towards the boy. Malfoy was slightly disgusted with himself. Not but a few moments ago he wanted to force himself on Ron and a few days ago he desired him.

//I wanted to actually rape him a few moments ago// Malfoy, for the first time in his life, was disgusted with himself. Yet another reason to hate Weasley.

He turned around and looked at Weasley. He appeared to be so frail and frightened. He was lost. Draco could see it.

"Did this happen once? Twice? How many times did it happen?"

Ron, who was still unable to speak, rolled the sleeve that Draco had notice all the way up. Draco counted the lines.

"Eleven times?" He sounded skeptical.      

Ron nodded his head. The two boys remained quiet while they tried to figure out what was going on, what had just happened, and what the future would hold.

Draco stared blankly into the unlit fireplace. He hadn't noticed how cold it was but once the whole situation was out in the open, Draco's slight frame shivered.

"It's February and you have no fire." He whispered. With a flick of his wand, he lit the fire, more for himself than anything else.

Ron crawled to the edge of the bed, and sat on the other corner of the bed. He turned to watch Malfoy, the firelight twinkled across his features. Something about the fire warmed up Malfoy's features and that certain something else twittered in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm going to have to tell. You know that, right?"

Ron nodded. He couldn't believe what he was feeling. He didn't want to admit to having such thoughts so early. Was he aloud to feel that way? And first of all, what was he feeling? Was there, after divulging his secret, a sudden truce that had developed between them?

"Do you want me to come back?" Draco quickly kicked himself mentally. What was going on here? He was over Ron. His fantasy had fizzled. He had no desire for Weasley. So how come he wanted to desperately return?

Ron was just as confused. What was feeling? He had once again retreated further into himself. He seemed skittish about being around Malfoy. He knew his secret and he knew what he went through. Malfoy had the upper hand now and that wasn't sitting well with Ron. He shrugged his shoulders. He could come if he wanted to.

"I'm going to go now." The mood had changed. The anger between them had faltered. The rivalry had unexpectedly evaporated. It was strange. They were far from friends but they could be enemies no longer.

Draco headed to the door. He hadn't meant for any of this to happen. When he came to this room to check on Ron, he didn't mean to check on him. He meant to make fun at him. He meant to shout at the broken young man again. But that didn't seem to happen. It seemed that Draco gained a tiny bit of awe – no – respect…no…he couldn't pinpoint the feeling but he recognized it as something that was never there before.

He shuffled to Pomfrey's office. She was preparing herself for whatever Quidditch injuries that the players may have sustained. He walked in and cleared his throat, catching her attention.

"Mr. Malfoy? What are you doing out of bed?" She swivelled around in her chair to face him.

"Why would I still be in bed? I was restless. I went to go see Weasley." He sighed. The dizziness returned. He hadn't noticed it
while with Ron but now, probably because of recent events, the tilt of the world came back. "How much longer does this dizziness continue?"

"Once you master walking again, the dizziness you have will cease. Now, why were you with Mr. Weasley?"

"I was bored." He spoke slowly. He sounded a bit harsh but it was more out of frustration of the nausea. Though, the woman was rather thick not to realize that he was bored and the only entertainment he had was Ron.

"Well, did you two resolve your issues?"

"No. But I know what's going on. He told me what happened to him over the summer. He won't name names and he wasn't specific but he's hurting…badly."

Madam Pomfrey was genuinely concerned. "He's not grieving?"

"Yes but that's not what the problem is. Someone's been hurting him. That row about two weeks ago was my fault. I provoked him." Reality was starting to get him hard. Draco was losing his composure. Look at what Ron does to him. Yet another reaction that goes against a Malfoy's nature and all because of Ron. "If I had known what was going on – what was happening to him, I wouldn't have done what I did. I didn't mean to upset him. I wish he would have told someone. His stupid friends. He has enough family members to confide in."

"Calm down. Here, sit down." She got out of her seat and helped her patient rest.

Draco sat down reluctantly and regained his breath.

"What happened?"

"He cuts himself. He keeps a tally of how many times he was hurt. I mean-" His voice choked on the word. It was even too vile for him…after he saw what the aftermath could be.

"Tell me. I need to know so I can alert Albus."

"He's been raped…eleven times."

The woman stood shocked. Ron couldn't…he was such as sweet…he was…shattered and not himself anymore. She believed Malfoy.

"Did he say that?"

"In so many words, yes."

"Wait here. I'm going to go and check on Mr. Weasley and his wounds."

Draco jumped out of the seat only to sway and fall back down. "I'm going."

"No you are not. Now stay." She said with conviction.

Because he was still swimming in his light-headedness, he obliged the nurse. In a flurry of robes, Draco was left to his own devices. He closed his eyes and let his body sway with his sickness. He heard feet shuffle past the office and out the door.

"How could this have happened?" He questioned aloud. Why did this have to happen right when Draco was ready to sinfully partake in Ron?

He was being selfish but that's how it was. Just when he wanted Ron, this happened.

"Why am I calling him Ron all of a sudden?"

That was the real question at hand. When had he decided to soften his thoughts about Ro-Weasley? And why did he have this sudden need to go to him?

It was awful. He wanted to hate Weasley, a part of him still did, but it was so hard to do that when he knew what R-Weasley was dealing with. How can anyone want to hate someone who was dealing with what the redhead was dealing with? He pushed himself up and wobbled over to his cot. He tried to get cozy; it was nearing dinner and he doubted he could eat at a time like this.

"Malfoy says that Mr. Weasley was raped and when I went to check on Weasley I saw…" The healer's voice drifted to Draco who was trying to go to sleep. He heard the distinct rumble of Dumbledore's voice travel down the corridor that led to Weasley's room.

Malfoy placed his hands over his eyes and tried to sleep. He didn't know what to do with himself or the situation. All he knew was that if he was in that situation, he would have killed the bastard that would even think of doing that to him…

If Ron had took that advice, he should kill the blonde. He felt horrible. His skin crawled about that fleeting thought he had about taking Ron, punishing him. Was he really that disgusting?

Before he could delve into that answer, comforting sleep overtook him...

He didn't dream. He hadn't even noticed he was asleep. He thought he had just closed his eyes but the faint moonlight told him otherwise. The Hospital Wing was empty…yet again. It seemed that no injuries were sustained during the Slytherin-Hufflepuff match, which was highly suspicious. His food tray was still beside his bed but he doubted he would touch it. Draco couldn't even begin to know how long it was there.

He wasn't tired. He itched to see if Weasley was still alive, was still here, was still willing to allow Draco to stand in the same
room with him.

He slunk past Pomfrey's office and quarters. He knocked on the door, a luxury he never gave anyone except for his father, and entered quietly. He shut the door as slowly and soundlessly as he could. He noticed that Ron wasn't in bed. It was still unmade but the occupant wasn't on it. He scanned the room and noticed him seated on the floor, looking up into the sky. The moonlight illuminated his pale skin, casting his bloodless countenance in a hauntingly alluring shadow. His hair, which was growing shaggy and passed his ears, was falling away from his tilted face. Those blue eyes were shiny and wide.

He seemed too innocent and unaware of the situation. The Gryffindor twisted around to watch the Slytherin. Once he realized that what had happened was real and that Malfoy wasn't here to taunt him…at least for now, Ron was able to go back to his stargazing.

"Do you remember what happened?" Faint words ghosted towards Malfoy.

"Yes. It seems to be the only thing improving quite rapidly and well."

Ron never chanced a glanced at Draco. He was particularly happy because he had no way of knowing what he would do if Ron did.

"I'll stand here thanks." Draco replied to some unspoken question that was quite similar to `Would you please come over here?'

Ron shrugged, never taking his eyes off the inky sky.

"I told them. Did things go well?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah. Right. You wouldn't know if things should or shouldn't go right. You have never been in that situation before."

Why was he understanding that boy?

The temper tantrums he used to give his Mother and the house elves had enabled him to be an expert in shoulder and head gestures that doubled as answers while he refused to speak ever again.

He went over to the bed and sat down. He knew from experience that he couldn't stand for long periods of time.

"They saw the rest of the scars."

"There's more!"

Ron nodded his head. He didn't want to talk about them at that point.

Malfoy noticed that his dinner table was untouched. "Don't you want to eat something? You had a rough day." He rolled his eyes. He had suddenly become a caring, pathetic twit.

"I can't really eat much."

"Why?" pressed Draco.

"He did things to me during supper. I was supposed to be eating. He threatened me to be quiet. I did. He touched me. A lot." Ron's voice quavered and Draco frowned.

He knew to never touch the subject of eating again.

"So, are they going to alert your family?"

Ron nodded his head. "First there will be a meeting then they come."

"Oh,"

Ron got up and crawled under the sheets.

Malfoy wanted to get up so Ron could cover himself as much as possible but that was impossible. He couldn't hide under the sheets forever, shielding himself from what was to inevitably come to transpire. He was given even more insight into Weasley's nightmare.

"Going to sleep? Good Idea. I did earlier. Very draining day."

Ron was cocooned himself in his coverlet, face towards the window. "You can stay awhile."

"Thank you."

"My voice hurts."

"I can tell. Haven't used it much in a while I bet."

Ron snuggled into the squashed pillows. He didn't need to answer.

Draco moved over to Ron's chessboard and noticed that Ron had stopped in the middle of a game. He was fairly good at chess. In fact he was the best in his House. He made a few moves and decided to head off to his own bed.

"Good Night Weasel."

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