Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Sakura ❯ Year Five: Chapter Nine ( Chapter 9 )

Disclaimer: My name is not J.K. Rowling nor am I part of the wonderfully talented Mangaka quartet known as CLAMP.

Title: Sakura

Pairing: RWxDM

Warnings: Yup…it's still Slash, Angsty Ron

Spoilers: OOTP

POV: Ronald Weasley; passive

 

Chapter 9

 

He stared blankly at the stone wall in front of him, all its cracks and grooves etching themselves into his memory. Beneath him he felt the chill of the floor, made of the same stone as the wall, seep through him, deepening his feelings of anguish and humiliation. Closing his eyes he brought his head forward so that his chin was touching his chest and taking in a quick breath he brought his head back again. Pain filled the back of his head as it once again met with the hard wood of the door behind him. His eyes flew open and he looked up at the ceiling, trying to suck the tears threatening at the edge of his vision back in.

They were doing what?

Even running it had seemed he couldn't out run the wave of whispers and murmurs already flooding the halls. Every student he had passed looked at him, all in shocked disbelief or disgust, sometimes a mixture of both. Around every corner he heard mention of his and Malfoy's names, most often in context with something vulgar. It seemed that even people he couldn't remember ever seeing his entire life were able to point him out within seconds. Suddenly he wished that he could be rid of his trademark Weasley red hair and freckles, or that he had never joined the Gryffindor quidditch team, or that he'd walked a little behind Harry more often.

But I thought they hated each other. Maybe they were just fighting.

He suddenly wished with such intensity it scared him, that he had never even met Harry Potter. He wished that he had never sat next to him on the Hogwart's Express that first time.

I'm sure any idiot can tell the difference between fighting and shagging.

It didn't take to long for the story to change and become exaggerated. By the time he reached the fifth floor people were already relaying grotesque details that obviously never happened. Ron did his best not to look at any body as he continued down the halls, trying to find someplace were the rumors hadn't yet spread, someplace he could think.

That's so gross!!

He accidentally bumped into another student. All Ron could make out of him was that he was big because before he could turn and apologize the boy shoved him so hard that he went flying forward onto the floor. His nose connected with the marble floor, blood spurt out of it and tears sprung to his eyes as pain shot through his face. All he could make out of the boys remark was “Fucking queer” before the laughter erupted from the surrounding students. Red faced and burning with anger and shame Ron stood up and continued down the corridor, holding his nose and trying to stifle the bleeding.

Finally he made it to the seventh floor and finally he heard the bell announcing the start of the next lesson ring. All students disappeared from the corridors, except Ron. He kept walking, passing the portrait of the fat lady who called after him, scolding him for not being in class.

He walked until he came to the moving tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. He watched the ridiculous attempt of trying to teach the trolls ballet for a few seconds and turned to look at the wall across from it. He walked passed it, concentrating on a place to get away from everything. When he reached the end of the hall he turned and walked passed the space of wall again, still concentrating. He turned and walked passed it a third time and when he turned again there was a door. Without hesitating he opened it and went in. What he got was the room he was sitting in now, no bigger than a broom closet.

And there he still sat, staring at the wall, dried blood caked onto his lips and chin. He looked at his watch. It was nearly diner time. He didn't think he'd be able to survive a meal in the great hall, and he wasn't very hungry, but he figured he had to get up and do something, anything. He stood up and exited the room.

Walking down the corridors he could still hear hushed whispers as he walked passed, these from the paintings hung on the walls. Ignoring them as best he could, they were only paintings after all; he entered a bathroom that was empty.

Turning on a faucet he washed the blood from his face and hands and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He wasn't surprised to see his red eyes and red cheeks against the paleness of his skin, causing an odd looking complexion. As he stood there looking at himself he heard the bell announcing the end of lessons for the day and the start of dinner. Through the door behind him he could hear the students filing into the corridors.

He stood there until it sounded like most of them had dispersed before he turned and walked through the door. The faster he got this over with the better. As he thought, the few students that he passed grew silent as he came within earshot only to pick up their hushed conversations when they thought him far enough not to hear. Slowly he made his way down.

When he reached the marble staircase that lead to the Entrance Hall, the noise from the great hall reached his ears and he suddenly wished he had stayed in the Room of Requirement. Walking down he saw groups of students outside the doors meeting with each other. Most of them stopped talking as they saw him coming. He tried to look calm, tried to look normal. He walked by the doors and glanced in. All four of the house tables were full.

Panicking he picked up the pace and kept walking. He reached the great double oak doors and without a second thought opened them and walked outside, only to be hit with a wind so cold he felt as if the blood in his veins had frozen instantly. It was snowing so heavily that Ron could barely make out anything only inches from his face. Swearing at his stupidity he tried to wrap his school robes tighter around himself.

He squinted his eyes, trying to see through the snow. He thought he could almost make out lights coming from the direction of Hagrid's hut. Knowing that he couldn't go back in now without looking like a fool and the image of the full dinning hall still fresh in his memory Ron set out through the ankle deep snow for the game keeper's hut.

It felt like it took an eternity before he finally reached Hagrid's front door and by the time he did he was shivering so uncontrollably he thought he would fall apart. He brought his hand up and weakly knocked on the door. Almost instantly he heard Fangs excited barking on the other side. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself as best he could. He heard the heavy footsteps of Hagrid making his way to the door.

“Get out the way Fang,” he heard Hagrid's gruff voice and the sound of him pushing the huge dog to the side. The latch of the door clicked and Ron knew that there was no turning back.

The door swung open to reveal the massive form of Hagrid, covered in fresh injuries from Merlin only knew what. He looked at Ron in surprise. Ron had a sudden frightening vision of him bellowing a great yell and beating him over the head until he was neck deep in the frozen ground.

“Ron?” Hagrid looked around, squinting his eyes as he tried to see through the falling snow. His questioning tone and the fact that he seemed to be looking for Harry and Hermione made Ron feel slightly easier…though not much.

“Wha' yeh doin' ou' here by yerself?” he asked focusing back on Ron. “An' dres' li'e that? Are yeh tryin' the catch yeh death ou' here o' what?”

Ron tried a smile through his chattering teeth but due to his present misery and the cold he found it impossible. “J-jus' w-wanted t-to s-s-say…hi,” He managed to stutter.

“Well come'n side then,” Hagrid said stepping aside to make room, holding Fang by the scruff so to keep him from jumping on Ron. “C'mon then, b'fore yeh freeze teh death ou' here.” As soon as Ron was inside he shut the door. Already Ron could feel the warmth seeping in through his wet clothes.

“Si' down an' I'll make yeh some tea,” he said as he threw a blanket over Ron's shoulders. Ron did as he was told, sniffing the fabric as the large man turned his back to him. Reluctantly, mostly for the warmth, he pulled it tighter around himself and settled himself in the wooden chair, closing his eyes.

Here was something normal. As he heard Hagrid put the kettle on the stove he tried to picture Harry and Hermione sitting around the table with him, Fang's huge drooling head set in Harry's lap rather than his. He tried to think of what they'd all be talking about. Christmas most likely, he thought, or something stupid Malfoy did during Hagrid's lesson earlier that day. At the thought of Draco Ron opened his eyes and felt a twisting in his stomach.

The chairs across from him were empty and Fang was still drooling on his leg.

Hagrid moved into his line of vision and placed a large steaming mug in front of him. “There yeh go,” he said sitting down at the table beside Ron. “Tha'll warm yeh up.” Ron just stroked the big dogs head and didn't respond. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for what felt like an eternity.

“Missed yeh teh'day,” Hagrid said finally. “Thought yeh migh' be sick again bu' here yeh are.” Ron still didn't reply so Hagrid continued, “Harry seemed migh'y steamed `bout sumthin' though.” Again Ron said nothing. “`Ermione was pre'y quie' as well.” Nothing. “Yeh bes' be drinkin' tha' b'fore it ge's cold,” he said nodding toward Ron's mug.

Numbly Ron picked it up and took a sip, not even flinching as it burned his tongue and throat. Hagrid stared at him for a while, not saying anything. Finally he broke the silence with a great sigh:

“Is there sumthin' yeh wan'ed teh tell me?” Ron flinched, jostling Fang in the process, almost as if Hagrid had just raised one of his massive hands to strike him. Harry had told him after all. He felt a tear he didn't even know he had been holding slide down his cheek.

“Well yeh know there's nuthin' wrong with it,” Hagrid said quickly. Another tear broke through the dam. “I's jus',” Hagrid sighed. “I's jus' I wish yeh coulda trusted us a bit more an' told us.

A small strangled sob managed to escape as Ron felt the hot tears tumble out his eyes and run down his face. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to stop their flow.

“Yeh know, insteada us findin' ou' the way we did.” Hagrid continued awkwardly.

“The way who did?” Ron finally asked, still unable to look at Hagrid.

“Well I'm assumin' tha' Harry an' Hermione found ou' the same as me,” the big man said though he was starting to sound fairly unconfident.

“How'd you find out?” Ron asked in a small voice. Something told him he already knew the answer. After all if Harry hadn't told Hagrid…

“Well from the other students o' course,” he answered. “I's all they bin talkin' `bout” This prompted Ron into a miserable groan. He put his head down, burying his face in his elbow, mumbling something.

“Sorry didn' catch tha'.”

“`Arry's the one who told ev'ryone,” he cried, lifting his head and looking at Hagrid for the first time.

Hagrid didn't say anything. He stared at Ron unbelievably until Ron, unable to look him in the eye anymore, put his head back down and continued to cry. A few seconds later he felt one of Hagrid's hands rest on one of his shoulders. A wave of relief rushed through him as the realization hit him. Hagrid didn't hate him or think him disgusting. Well yeh know there's nuthin' wrong with it.

Hagrid sat there in silence. Finally after Ron managed to calm down into hiccupping breaths the half-giant asked, “Do yeh wan' teh talk abou' it?”

Ron told him everything. He started with the detention, describing Malfoy's strange behavior, and told him about the kiss. He continued with explaining the next day, about how Malfoy cornered him in the bathroom and what happened later that night after their second detention, leaving out the finer details but giving Hagrid enough so that he knew the basics of what had happened. He went on to tell him about the night in the unused classroom and the month that followed. He explained to him about how he wanted to tell someone, that he felt horrible for lying and keeping it secret, but felt so dirty and vile that he had been unable to. Finally he described what had happened earlier that day. When he finished, Hagrid was nearly in tears himself.

“Malfoy, he didn',” Hagrid paused trying to think of the right way to say it. “Well he didn' force yeh did `e?”

Thinking about it Ron couldn't think of a time when Draco had really forced him into anything other than the first few kisses. But the first time he wasn't holding onto Ron and when Ron pushed him away he walked away. Even the second time when he had held onto Ron's hands he had let go somewhere in the middle of it all. Ron could have pushed him away at anytime, but he didn't. All the other times Ron gave in. Ron let him. While Ron didn't really feel comfortable doing any of it, he really couldn't say that he hadn't wanted to either. He couldn't say that he had been forced. Ron explained this to Hagrid who sighed in relief and nodded his understanding.

“What're yeh goin' teh do abou' Malfoy now?” Ron was quiet for a while, thinking about it.

“I don't know,” he said finally. “I don't want to keep doing it but at the same time I really don't want to stop either.” He ran his fingers over the rim of the now empty mug. He looked at Hagrid. “Does that sound mental to you?”

Hagrid nodded. “Ay, `course it does.” Smiling though he continued, “Bu' it makes a lota sense too.” Ron managed to smile a little for him then. “Yeh want s'more tea?” Ron nodded and handed him his mug as Hagrid stood up to grab the kettle off the stove.

“What am I gonna do `bout Harry and Hermione?” Ron asked. Hagrid paused for a second before he finished with the tea and turned around.

“I don' know,” he said putting the steaming mug in front of Ron again. “Bu' I'm certin tha' if yeh tell `em wha' yeh told me they'll unde'stand.”

Ron nodded. “I hope so.”

“Now yeh bes' be finishin' tha',” Hagrid said looking at his watch. “I's getting' late. Don' want yeh missing curfew and getting yerself inter trouble.”

Ron took a sip from his mug to keep himself from moaning in displeasure. If it was going to be just Harry and Hermione he had to worry about then he didn't think he'd be so apprehensive but he was going to have the entire Gryffindor common room to deal with. He felt a sickening feeling creeping in his stomach as he remembered Harry's reaction and the stares from all the other students.

Hagrid might have been confident that Harry and Hermione would listen to him but he had to admit the he did not share such thoughts, though he sorely wished he could.