Chapter Eight- Sympathy.

Ginny came down to dinner giggling. "What's so funny?" I asked her.

"Percy."

"Huh?"

Hermione poked me in the arm. "Don't talk with your mouth full."

"My mouth isn't full."

"Not yet it isn't."

I put down my spoon and leaned across the table to look at my sister. "What's so funny about Percy?"

"Oh, it's nothing really, he just sent me this letter..." She broke out in another fit of giggles.

I frowned. "Since when did Percy write funny letters?"

"You'd have to read it."

"Have you got it?"

She pulled a crisp piece of Ministry parchment out of her bag, or what had been a crisp piece of Ministry parchment before it had got into her bag. She paused with her arm half-extended. "Ron? Promise you won't get mad at him?"

I said, "Of course not," before I snatched the letter out of her hand, because she really did sound concerned. It was short, which was unusual enough, because...well, compared to way he writes, Perce doesn't talk much at all. One of these days he's going to give Hermes a hernia.

"Ron!" Hermione sniffed. "That was rude."

"I promised, didn't I?"

"Go on and let him read it," Ginny said, leaning across the table. "But, Ron, please, don't be angry..."

"I won't be." I flattened the letter against the table and started reading.

"Blah, blah, blah," I muttered. "What's so funny about this?"

She reached out and flipped the paper over. "Here, the next paragraph...start there."

I looked up at Ginny, who smiled sort of uneasily for about five and a half seconds. Then we both busted up laughing.

"Let me see that." Hermione snatched the letter away from me (speaking of being rude, and all) and scanned it quickly. Her jaw dropped. "Ron, this is horrible! He has no right to say all this about you...and why on Earth would he think you're on drugs?"

"Search me." I said once I managed to breathe properly again. "I've never understood how Percy thinks."

"But the things he said about you...!"

"He says that stuff all the time," Ginny said. "It would be weirder if he didn't say anything."

"Besides, it's better if he's on about this stuff than...you know, other stuff."

"I suppose..."

Percy, as far as I knew, had never heard anything about my sex life, and I was very grateful for that, because as far as I'm concerned those two are mutually exclusive. Although, when I think about it, he and Penny must do something in the evenings...not that I would really want to know. Anyway, if he wanted to think I was on drugs, he was welcome to it, because that I could deny with a clean conscience. I hadn't had much of anything to deny recently, though; after nine weeks of virtuous living, it seemed like even the biggest dunderheads in the rumour mill had got the idea, and I could actually be seen in someone's company without being accused of...well, you know what. Even Seamus had shut up. It bordered on miraculous.

Harry finally decided to put in an appearance, and started serving himself before he even sat down. "Where you been, mate?" I asked him.

"Dumbledore," he mumbled, and then started stuffing himself. And that said it all, really; he wasn't allowed to tell what went on when he got dragged into the Headmaster's office, so we'd given up asking. Quite a conversation-stopper, that was. Between swallows he managed to ask, "What's new with you?"

I shrugged. "Not much. Percy thinks I'm on drugs."

"Mwhuh?"

"Don't talk with your mouthful."

"Lay off, Hermione." She tut-tutted us and went back to her book. "He wrote a letter to Ginny and he thinks I'm on drugs. Dunno why."

Harry swallowed again. "You think he knows about...?"

"Nah. If he knew about that I probably would've gotten a Howler." I glanced at Ginny; I had something to tell Harry, but there was no way I was doing it with her in earshot. (Hermione was reading, and anyway, she doesn't really count, being Hermione.) "Oi, Gin, how's things with you and Neville?"

She nearly choked on a carrot. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've been looking at each other awfully funny the last couple of days..."

Her ears turned red and she tossed her hair over her shoulders. "I don't know what you mean..."

"Oh, you know, the big dewey eyes, the pouty lower lip...you might want to mention that's not a good look for him..."

"Ronald Weasley, you are impossible." She stuck her tongue out at me and left the table.

Harry frowned. "What was that about?"

"Decoy. Bet you a Sickle she goes and tells him all about it." I pulled his plate out of his reach. "Will you stop and breathe for a minute? I need your advice."

"About what?"

"A girl."

"A girl?"

"Keep your voice down!"

He smirked at me. "You want advice from me about a girl? I may have to write this down."

"Yes, yes, it's very ironic, will you let me talk?" He made a "go ahead" gesture with one hand, and I took a deep breath. "Okay, she's a friend of Ginny's in Ravenclaw, named Allison. She's really sweet, she's got a sense of humor, and yes, before you even ask, she is very attractive, so shut up."

"I wasn't going to say a word." He glanced over his shoulder at the Ravenclaw table. "Where is she?"

"She's not there, now quit looking."

He blinked at me. "What's with you, Ron? You haven't been this worked up about somebody since fifth year."

"Yeah, and I haven't kept anyone more than two weeks since then, either."

"What about Michael?"

"Forget him," I said, "we're talking about Allison."

"Okay, okay...she must really be something."

She definitely was; to start with, she looked at me like a normal human being and not a side-show attraction. Ginny had introduced us on the last Hogsmeade weekend, and she'd just smiled at me and shaken my hand like I'd never done anything dumb. "I don't want to screw up this time, Harry. I want to do things right, for a change."

"That's great, Ron, but I don't know how I can help you.'

"Well, you're doing the whole Man of Virtue thing, saving yourself and all that...what would you do?" I never did find out, it turns out, because Harry had barely opened his mouth when Lucius Malfoy started screaming.

Every single person in the Great Hall jumped about six feet out of their chair. Well, except for Draco Malfoy, who sat at the very end of the Slytherin table and didn't seem to be moving or breathing. Then every single person in the Great Hall jumped up to get a better look at the Howler, and I couldn't see much of anything except Ginny trying to coax Neville out from under the table.

"I HAD THOUGHT," Malfoy continued, in a tone that should've had icicles forming on the rafters, "THAT YOU WOULD HAVE MORE RESPECT FOR THE NAME YOU CARRY THAN TO CONSORT WITH FELLATORS AND CATAMITES. IT GRIEVES ME TO FIND I WAS MISTAKEN. WHEN YOU CHOOSE TO APOLOGIZE, I MAY ELECT TO BE MERCIFUL; UNTIL THAT TIME YOU MAY NO LONGER CONSIDER YOURSELF MY SON. LET IT NEVER BE SAID THAT ANY TRUE MALFOY LOWERS HIMSELF TO THE VICE OF FAGGOTRY."

There was a beat of complete silence, and then everyone started talking, at a whisper; it sounded like a den of snakes. Quite a few people were laughing about it, although some of the younger students looked confused. Harry shook his head in bewilderment. "That was...interesting."

"That was horrible." Hermione finally put her book away started fiddling with her utensils. "It's almost enough to make me feel sorry for him."

"Nothing is enough to make me feel sorry for him," I said. Although I suppose it would be horrible to be outed like that—worse than getting caught by a professor, at any rate.

Harry raised his eyebrows at me. "After all the crap he's given you about boys, I'd've thought you'd be laughing your head off."

"It's Malfoy. He doesn't matter."

Hermione shrugged. "It makes a certain amount of sense, for him to lash out at others because of his own underlying insecurities. Although it does raise questions about his obsession with Harry."

"Huh?"

"What obsession?"

"Oh, you know—he always goes out of his way to insult you, he follows you around between classes, that whole Quidditch thing..."

"That's not an obsession, that's just Malfoy being an ass," I said.

Harry frowned. "He follows me?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Why are you arguing with me?"

Because he follows me. "I'm not arguing."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I am not."

"You just did!"

"Actually, he was just contradicting you."

"Oh, hush up, Harry."

I tossed my fork down. "Look, Hermione, Malfoy's not obsessed with Harry."

"How do you know?"

"I know because I know Malfoy!"

"I thought Malfoy didn't matter."

"Shut up, Harry."

"Ron," she said oh-so-reasonably, as if she were explaining the Charms homework to me, "he's obsessed. Everyone thinks so. Doesn't that imply something to you?"

"Yeah, that everyone's stupid."

"Ron!"

I grabbed my bag and stood up, because I wasn't about to get a lecture from her on this, like she could learn love and hate from a table in a textbook. "I'll see you later, Harry," I mumbled, and left. Hermione just clucked her tongue and shook her head. Sometimes I have to restrain myself from strangling her.

I found Malfoy in the entrance hall, walking very slowly and very stiffly, with his eyes fixed over everyone's heads. Most of the people in the hall ignored him, but a few of them were pointing and whispering, or laughing like asses. Justin and I had gotten the same treatment after the Greenhouse Incident; I still got it from some of the stupider ones, from time to time. Malfoy, being Malfoy, should've been setting bits of them on fire or threatening some horrible retribution from his father...although that'd have probably gone over like a lead balloon just then. But he was just walking past them like they weren't even there, with his face so completely blank that it hurt to look at it, and his eyes fixed over their heads at the middle distance.

I tried, experimentally, tapping him on the shoulder. Just to see what he'd do, mind you. "Malfoy?"

Instead of turning around, like a normal person, he ran. I had to chase him.

Well, I didn't have to chase him. I could've just ignored him, because he was a crazy person, and they do that sort of thing all the time. But I sort of had an idea that maybe the blankness wasn't a good thing, and maybe Malfoy shouldn't exactly be alone just then, or at least left unattended around wands and pointy objects. Not that I cared if he topped himself, because he didn't matter, but...well...look, it's a principal thing. Death equals bad, and all. That's not the important bit, anyway.

The important thing is he ran, and I chased him, and I bet those twits in the entrance hall got a good kick out of the whole thing. I came close to catching him a couple of times, but he was crazy and kept dodging out of the way. And, okay, I wasn't exactly watching where I was going, and I sort of...fell on a trick staircase. But just the once, so don’t believe a damned thing Peeves says. He probably pushed me.

Eventually Malfoy ducked inside a classroom and slammed the door behind him, and I stopped with my hand on the knob. For all I knew, he was waiting to hex my head off on the other side. I stepped behind a convenient suit of armor and pointed my wand at the door. "Alohomora."

It swung open, and a white-hot curse flew out and scorched the opposite wall, leaving behind a greasy, sour smell. When it wasn't followed by friends, I stuck my head into the doorway; the classroom was completely dark. "Malfoy?"

Another curse, though this went wide and hit the doorframe. I got the impression of a bunch of desks and chairs in dusty stacks in the brief flash of light. It occurred to me that I was an easy target, silhouetted against the doorway, when a third curse sailed over my head. In or out, I told myself, and stepped fully into the darkened room. "Malfoy, where are you?"

"Go the fuck away." His voices sounded funny, choked and hoarse.

"Will you quit trying to kill me for a moment?"

"No."

Well, at least he was honest about it.

"Why did you follow me?" he asked, sullenly, like I'd just taken his sweets away.

"I just wanted..." ...to make sure you were alright suddenly sounded like the worst possible way to end that sentence. Because I didn't care about Malfoy one way or another. He did not matter.

While I groped for words, he snorted. "To point and laugh? To rub it in? Punish me for..." He trailed off, like he was having trouble breathing. Oh, shit, I thought, what if he is topping himself in here?

"I think the morons downstairs are taking care of most of that," I said, feeling my way along the wall. The curses, and his voice, were coming from the far corner of the room. "They'll get bored with it eventually."

"How do you know?"

"Well, they did with me..." Most of them, anyway. And the ones left didn't matter. Much like Malfoy. Who had better not be dying on the other side of the room while I stuck my hands in cobwebs that could very well still be occupied...I don't know how these sorts of things happen to me.

He was quiet for so long that I thought he really was dead, until he asked softly, "Why are you here?" He didn't sound quite so sullen anymore.

I felt something crawl across my hand. A big something. I shook it off hard and backpedaled a few steps before I answered him. "Are you going to kill yourself?"

He snorted again. "Of course not. Malfoys don't go around laying open veins and arteries all willy-nilly without a good reason."

And being called a disgusting pervert in public by your own dad isn't a good reason? "They also don't fuck boys, I understand."

"So you are here to make fun of me."

"I'm just making an observation."

"Well, don't."

I groped a few more feet along the wall, biting my lip when I felt the tickle of silk across the backs of my hands. I could hear Malfoy making weird hiccuping noises, and I called out, "Are you sure you're not dying?"

He seemed to think for a minute. "No."

Damn it all. If he were just being melodramatic about it all I'd kill him. I finally came to a corner—that wall had to have been fifty feet long—and felt the smooth slate of a chalkboard under my fingers. "Then why're you hiding in here?"

"Malfoys don't hide."

"What d'you call this, then?"

"You chased me in here."

"I was chasing you because I thought you were going to jump out a window."

"How touching."

Why the hell was I doing this, again? Principals, that's right. "I'd do the same for anyone."

He went quiet again. I called his name a couple of times, but he wouldn't answer me. Or couldn't, but I was starting to think maybe he wasn't dying—I wasn't that lucky. I found out for certain when I stuck my foot out and hit something that yelped, then kicked me in the shin. "Ow! Malfoy, what the fuck is your problem? Lumos." I stuck my lit wand out in front of me to find out.

He was crying, or he'd been crying, and his face was red and puffy from it. Three shiney wet tracks shone on his face, one down each side and one under his nose. He climbed to his feet and stared me down with his chin in the air, arms folded. "Well?" he asked. Brittle-sounding.

"I...er...I..." Think, Weasley, what would an intelligent person do right now? "I'll just, er...I'll go." I exited as fast as I could, keeping my eyes on the door rather than the boy behind me, or the line of broken spiderwebs along the near wall. I shut the door behind me and sank to the floor. "That went well," I muttered to myself. Though it was hard to tell, in hindsight, which of us was more embarrassed.

A few moments later, I heard another set of footsteps coming down the corridor. I jumped to my feet and came face-to-face with Virgil Moon. You know, hand cough person. The weirdo. He stopped about five feet away from me and asked, "Is Malfoy in there?"

My razor-sharp intellect leapt into action, and I pressed myself flat against the door. "No."

Moon nodded. "Well, when he comes out, tell him that Professor Snape wants to talk to him, and not to die, or it'll be ten points from Slytherin."

I stared at the back of his head as he walked away. Thank Merlin I don't have to share a dormitory with him.

After about ten minutes, Malfoy came out under his own power. He'd cleaned his face somehow, and he looked more or less normal (well, for him anyway) if you didn't count how his eyes were all bloodshot. We just sort of looked at each other.

"Er," I said, "Professor Snape—"

"I heard."

"You did."

"Yes."

He looked at the carpet, so I looked at the wall. There were two big black marks in the stone, that overlapped, so they looked like a figure eight. I couldn't right away think of a curse that would scorch stone like that, although knowing Malfoy it could very well have been some kind if illegal Dark magic that we weren't supposed—

"Thank you."

My head snapped around, but he was already walking away. I called out his name, and he turned around.

"What?"

I stared with my mouth handing open like a genius. "...er...never mind."

He frowned a bit, then went around the turn in the corridor and he was gone.

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