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Old 08-27-2011, 03:40 PM   #126 (permalink)
steflegan
Ravenclaw
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Join Date: Feb 2011
Location: Orlando, FL
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Hogwarts RPG Name:
Melina Morninglory- "Glory"
Second Year

Ministry RPG Name:
Violet Downing
Minister's Office
Ravenclaw
WizWorld Universal / Tom Felton for President

Chapter 35: Teenage Troubles



Draco wasn’t ready for breakfast just yet. He excused himself and headed upstairs. He smelled. And Draco did not ever smell.

He counted in his head: thirty-six hours since he last showered. Nearly a personal record. And a lot had happened in those thirty-six hours. He stripped off his filthy clothes and drew himself a glorious bath. Easing into the hot water, Draco felt his muscles instantly relax. He sunk in, right up to his chin, and closed his eyes. How easy it would be to just fall asleep right then and there. But he wanted to get back to Hermione and make sure she was all right.

He stayed for a time, stretching each one of his grateful muscles and relishing the peace and quiet. Lying there, he had time to process all that had happened in the past thirty-six hours. He wanted so much to believe that the people here would give him a chance, but he was doubtful as to whether they could, or even should.

But they didn’t matter anyway. All that mattered was Hermione. Hermione. Not Granger, not Mudblood. Just her beautiful name, as it should have been all along. He cursed himself for all the pain he’d caused her over the years. Why would she even want to be with him? The only thing he knew for sure is that he wanted to be with her, and that he’d spend his whole life making up for his actions.

Did he love her? No, it was too soon and too chaotic for that. But someday…

Love was something he wasn’t sure he believed in. Perhaps his mother’s love. Suddenly thinking of her was a stunner to the heart. His mother. He loved her as best he could. He knew she loved him. The last thing he ever said to her was a scathing insult. What if he never got the chance to say anything else? Guilt and grief racked him as he thought of how scared she must be right now. How he wished there was any way possible to tell her he was all right. He was a horrible son. How had he expected her to react any differently about Hermione? She hadn’t had the epiphany that he did. How could he have said what he said to her? Tears worked their way down his cheeks. Crying was becoming a habit.

Shaking himself from his thoughts (for the insistent rumbling of his stomach told him that food was now a necessity), he found an adequate bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo, and went at cleaning the last thirty-six hours off of him. In the end, he didn’t smell as good as he normally did, but at least he was clean.

He dried off and slung his towel low on his hips. It was at that point that he realized he had no toiletries whatsoever. He chuckled wryly. It’s not as if I was thinking about hygiene while I was running for my life. Surely someone had things he could borrow. Professor Lupin was here; he wouldn’t mind, would he?

Draco began tiptoeing through the hallway, peeking his head into the bedrooms to sort out which may belong to Lupin. He pulled the door open on the far bedroom and jumped back with a yelp at the sound of a girl’s scream.

Ginny had Apparated over with her brothers only moments before. She was in her room, unloading the things she’d brought from home when her door was opened. She screamed at the sight of a man in a towel at her door. It took a moment to realize who he was.

Merlin’s pants!” She instinctively went to cover herself but realized she wasn’t the one half-naked. Draco Malfoy was standing half-naked in her room, his face a mixture of surprise and mortification.

“I was just looking for…a toothbrush, and I…I’m just going to go now,” he stammered. He made for the hallway quickly.

Ginny snapped out of her shock. “Wait!” she called after him. “We have toothbrushes here!”

“No-no-no, I’m sure I’ll find one elsewhere,” floated a voice from down the hall.

“You won’t. We keep the extras in here.”

Ginny heard him sigh heavily and trod back over to her room. She headed swiftly to the bathroom to fetch a new toothbrush and, when she came back, there he was, still in that towel. She made sure to look at his face when she handed him the toothbrush. “Here.”

He snatched the toothbrush from her hand. “Um, yeah, okay.” He gave her a nod of his head and disappeared back into the hall.

Ginny sat down on her bed, trying not to think about Draco’s body and failing miserably. She always thought of him as lean and sort of lanky. Probably all that black he wears. But he was surprising muscular. His chest and abs were well-defined, his arms and shoulders lean and subtly sculpted. She wondered how muscular the rest of him was. A blush as red as her hair blossomed on her cheeks, and she chastised herself for even thinking such things. She had a feeling, though, that the image would be burned in her brain forever.

“Um,” called the voice. “You wouldn’t happen to have any extra clothes in there too, would you?”

Oh Merlin.

****

Molly was cleaning up the breakfast dishes when Harry popped his head into the kitchen.

“Mrs. Weasley, have you seen Ron anywhere?”

She stopped washing dishes at once. “What? He’s not still asleep upstairs?”

“No,” replied Harry. “He didn’t sleep upstairs at all. He was going to sleep on the floor next to Hermione.”

Oh dear. What had happened last night? Draco was there in the morning, but not her son. This couldn’t mean anything good. “I’m afraid…Ron may have left the house upset. Or, perhaps he went home. Go ask one of the children.”

“Sure,” he said, then paused. “Why would Ron have left the house upset?”

Molly’s voice was nervous. “Oh-well, it’s just that Dra-well, let’s not worry about that right now. Please ask if he was at home, and come and tell me right away.”

Harry returned a moment later with a concerned look on his face. “He didn’t go home, Mrs. Weasley.”

Molly’s anxiety mounted. “Harry, is there anywhere Ron would go if he was angry, upset? If he wanted to be alone?”

Harry shook his head. “When he’s upset at school, he just walks around the grounds or gets something to eat. Maybe he went to a pub? Or maybe The Leaky Cauldron? That’s not too far from here.”

“I’ll have Arthur go and check there,” said Molly, now more troubled than ever.

“You think he’s okay though, don’t you?” asked Harry uneasily.

“I-I’m sure he is,” replied Molly, trying to convince herself that he was.

****

Harry’s instincts had been spot-on. Ron had been in the Leaky Cauldron, but had left a few hours before. Well, was kicked out, more accurately.

He’d walked all the way there in the middle of the night in the freezing cold. But the cold didn’t even bother him, given how much he burned with hatred. He’d finally needed warmth and food, and found his way to the restaurant.

A couple of firewhiskeys and a bar fight later, Ron found himself stumbling home with a busted lip and a serious headache.

****

“Your mother is going to have your hide for this.”

Arthur had met Ron halfway home. At first, he thought the boy was just incredibly tired. But when he got within half a metre of his son, the smell of firewhiskey assaulted him.

“Have you been drinking?”

Ron’s head was throbbing, and the very last thing he wanted right now was his father’s angry voice in his ear.

“…scaring your mother and I like this, not knowing where you were- what if something had happened to you?”

Ron’s eyes were downcast. “I’m sorry, Dad. I was just angry.”

“Just angry?” his father exclaimed incredulously. “You get some fresh air when you’re ‘just angry’ and no, your trek all the way to the Leaky Cauldron does not qualify as getting fresh air. You don’t drink until you’re stumbling drunk, and you certainly don’t get into a pub brawl! What is the matter with you, Ron?”

Ron sighed, but his senses cleared slightly when the reason for his anger resurfaced. “It’s Malfoy,” he spat. “In Headquarters like a bloody hero. Acting like he cares about Hermione. What a bunch of dragon dung!” His father didn’t bother to correct his language.

“Last night, I slept on the bloody floor next to her while he slept in some fluffy bed upstairs. She woke up with a nightmare, and who do you think she wanted? Not me. Not me! How is that even remotely fair?! She was in his arms, Dad, and she was happy!” Frustrated tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

Arthur sighed heavily. Now he understood. He put his arm around his son. “Ron, Hermione’s been through a terrible time. I can understand why you’re angry. I’m angry too, if you want to know the truth. I’m not ready to just welcome Draco in and forget everything he’s done to you and to our family. But I’m sure things will go back to normal very soon. Just trust in Hermione.”

“They’d better,” Ron grumbled under his breath as he and his father reached Grimmauld Place.

Arthur reached for the door and turned to his son. “I’ll try to hold off Mum for you.”

****

She was not to be held off.

“Ronald! Merlin’s beard, what happened to you?!”

Molly rushed to her son, squeezing him in a bear hug and taking his face in her hands. “Oh my stars, just look at you!” His face was pale, his flushed cheeks chapped from the cold. Dried blood remained in the place where his lip was split. “What happened?”

“Well, I-”

“Well, he-”

“Ronald Weasley! You’ve been drinking!! Arthur, you can smell it on him, I’m sure!”

Well, yes-”

“How could you have done such a thing?! And were you fighting as well?!”

“Well, I-”

“That’s enough! You get up those stairs and clean yourself up. Then you get in that bed and sleep it off. And when you wake up, I’ll deal with you. You are in more trouble than you can imagine, young man!”

“Yes, Mum.”

Knowing it was best not to say another word, Ron trudged up the stairs to do as he was ordered.
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Last edited by steflegan; 08-27-2011 at 03:45 PM.
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