(Untitled)

[of_badfaith]

It was common knowledge that Draco Malfoy's heart was made of the blackest stone. Or perhaps ice. Frozen solid and frostbitten and shriveled from decades of disuse. And this was no fairy tale. Luna Lovegood had not warmed that frozen little heart of his, nurtured it with her loony brand of love until it had suddenly grown three sizes, springing

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[sixthhandlion]

Ron hadn't sought out Malfoy either. When it came to people Ron would rather not speak to at all, he was at the very top of a very short list. And while Ron didn't go out of his way to avoid the great prat, he'd generally turn round and head in the other direction if he caught sight of him in the rec room or even the kitchen.

This time, however, he didn't see Malfoy. At least, not until the very last second, when it was too late and he was already being punched in the face. He fell over backwards onto the grass, landing hard and very nearly hitting his head in the process.

[of_badfaith]

It was as though his mouth had a mind of its own. As if he'd been unwittingly made the victim of a rather powerful Imperius Curse. Weasley was on his back, upended under the force of a shockingly well-placed right hook, but Draco didn't even have time to gloat. Instead, he loomed, words tumbling from his mouth, entirely unchecked:

"You speak to her like that again, Weasley, I swear, I will end you. Do you hear me?"

[sixthhandlion]

Ron wouldn't admit it, but it had been a hell of a right hook. His head was pounding as he saw stars and he'd likely have a black eye because of it. Explaining all that to Hermione (and Harry and Bill, probably) was not going to be a pleasant experience.

However, Ron wasn't considering any of that at the moment, as he sat up and glared up at Malfoy.

"What? Angry that someone's on to you? That someone finally told her the truth?" he replied, and then without considering whether or not it'd be best to end it then and there, he lunged at Draco's legs and tackled him to the ground.

[of_badfaith]

It wasn't a shock. He landed with a pained groan, the wind knocked out of him for moment, but there was a part of him that relished it. He'd never been much of a fighter. He'd had friends to do the grunt work for him, but now, there was no one around to fight his battles. There was only Draco, and smashing his fist into Weasley's hideous frog face had felt good.

"Oh right, my brilliantly sinister plan to ruin her by sharing a home with her and being there for her through everything. You twat," he growled, wedging his knee up between them and attempting to kick Weasley off of him. "What could I possibly have to gain?"