The Ferret and The Weasel (Lia & Aislashu)

Aislashu

Aislashu

Super-Earth
Joined
Nov 15, 2013
[[AU Setting: No Voldemort return]]

Ron Weasley felt naked without his wand. Naked and absolutely furious. He couldn't believe what he was going to have to put up with. All because of Draco fucking Malfoy. It had just been a stupid little fight!

Only...it hadn't really been little. Apparently Draco had been having a very bad day, and decided to goad Ron much more than normal. At this point of their schooling, the rivalry had been more between Ron and Draco than Harry and Draco. The first year, sure, it had been mainly between the Boy Who Lived and the 'Slytherin Prince', but as people got used to Harry, and with no threat of Voldemort returning, the fuss had died off, and Draco's attentions had turned elsewhere.

And Ron, with his short temper, was an easy target. Their rivalry quickly became infamous, their spats furious. This one had been much different, much more dangerous. With both boys having bad days, and Draco's goading, Ron's temper had more than boiled over.

Neither Harry and Hermione nor Crabbe and Goyle had been able to stop the two boys from erupting, and the fight that had broken out between them had been far worse than normal, with spells and curses flying, hitting some innocent bystanders, causing damage to the hallway.

Neither boy had seen Snape or McGonagall as furious as they had been then.

It had been decided that the boys were to stay over at the castle over Easter Holiday. For that week, they would have their wands taken from them. They would live together. Eat together. They were pretty much being forced to spend the entire week in each others company.

But their punishment was going to start at dinner the last day of school.

McGonagall had them meet in the small chamber off the side of the Great Hall where First Years were usually kept. Once everyone was seated, they were to be brought out, with special places for them in front of the Great Hall, and for the first half of dinner, they were to sit, side by side...holding hands.

Ron was disgusted and furious. And to make things worse, they would then have a small table placed in front of them then, and they were to place their joined hands on the table and, somehow, manage to eat one-handed.

And that was to be how they ate all their meals in the Great Hall during the week.

"This is your bloody fault, you slimy git!" Ron hissed to the platinum blond sharing the ante-chamber with him, fists clenched at his sides as he waited for McGonagall to come get them.
 
It truly had not been his fault. Of course, nothing involving any of the stupid Gryffindor trio was ever his fault. Potter had become boring after a while. He didn't seem to care who Draco was, or why he should be fawned over, and instead seemed to retreat into himself and his house. Granger was always stuck in books and rarely ever paid any attention to the world around her. But Weasley... Well, he was always a great source of entertainment for Draco. Quick tempered mixed with acting before thinking (not that he thought Weasley was capable of the higher thought processes anyway) usually meant that the redhead drew his wand first, and threw the first hex. And that meant that Draco could easily argue self defense.

Today, though, something had set him off. The Slytherin was usually calm, cool, and collected; he rarely showed his temper. But Weasley had said something that grated on his last, overworked nerve and after that, Draco wasn't sure who threw what first. Stunners, tripping jinxes, jelly legs jinxes, and a few more serious ones (if the colors he saw flashing on the outskirts of his vision were anything to go by) all flew in between them without prejudice. And because half of the witnesses had claimed that he had been the one to cast first, he wasn't able to talk his way out of detention with Snape. And Snape hadn't been able to dissuade the headmaster from giving his blessing to this asinine and ludicrous idea of detention that the old bat McGonagall had come up with.

"You keep telling yourself that, Weasley," he hissed back, having to try his hardest to not throw another punch just for the satisfaction of breaking the Gryffindor's nose. "I swear to Merlin if I catch any sort of disease from you, I'll make you wish you had Dragon Pox!"

It didn't take long for the Transfigurations professor to come collect them. Draco's heart beat against the inside of his chest frantically, trying to leap out from is confines. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that it would do him a world of good to stock up on calming draughts for the coming week. "I'm right handed, Weasley. You'll have to be at my left."
 
Ron had been about to open his mouth to retort when the door was pulled open. Professor McGonagall looked at them sharply, as if she had known they were arguing, her lips thinned. But she said nothing, simply inclined her head and lead them through the Great Hall.

It was a long march from the antechamber to the front of the hall, and people turned to stare at Draco and Ron walking side by side. People could be heard murmuring curiously, not sure what exactly was going to happen, though they had seen the two chairs up front.

"Good thing I'm right-handed, too, then. You're actually doing me a favor," Ron retorted, hoping to annoy the pale Slytherin.

They made quite a sight, standing together. Ron, darker, extremely freckled, red-headed, and Draco, pale, practically flawless skin, light blonde. And Ron was a good bit taller than the Slytherin, more built, stocky versus the sleek, lithe Draco beside him.

He turned to face the Great Hall when they were told, and McGonagall moved to stand at the elevated staff table once more, addressing the students.

"Now, if Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley will commence their punishment, the dinner can begin. Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley, you will be able to eat half way through, when your table is brought up."

Ron grit his teeth, but, being the 'brave Gryffindor,' he made the first move, his left hand grasping Draco's and gripping it quite tightly, taking his seat at the same time. Mind, he didn't quite think it through, and so he ended up yanking Draco with him...which ended up with the blond in his lap, and the Great Hall bursting into laughter.

Ron's ears went vividly red.
 
"The bloody fuck do you think you're on, Weasley!" Draco shoved at the redhead's chest while scrambling up and away from the other wizard. He caught a sharp look from his Head of House, though, and quickly straightened himself and his robes. The blond ignored the tittering behind him and kept his back straight, gathering all of the dignity that he could muster in this fucked up situation. Someone was going to pay for this, and they were going to pay dearly for it, too. One good deep breath, and Draco moved the chair to the redhead's right and sat, once more clasping their hands. "You're an idiot," he muttered, once he'd gotten himself comfortable and picked out a nice, blank expanse of wall to focus on. "When someone tells you that you must be at their left, that means, Weasley, that your right hand will be incapacitated." He didn't want to think what else that right hand was ever incapacitated with. Draco shuddered involuntarily.

It's Easter week. Not many are staying on at Hogwarts, thank Merlin. You can do this, Draco. You can survive this attrocious 'detention', and you will survive it if it's the last thing you ever do!

Draco allowed himself to be pulled into his own thoughts with that. He steadfastly ignored the stares from his fellow classmates, the too-cheerful chatter of the professors from behind them, and he ignored the warmth of the large, ape-like hand that he was holding. Instead, Draco listed Potions ingredients, Charms, hexes, jinxes, and even the obscure Runes they had been studying earlier in the week. So inside of his head was he, that the table appearing before them startled Draco. There was a slight flinch that he was sure no one saw, and he covered it further by reaching forward for the glass of pumpkin juice. His mouth felt fuzzy.
 
Ron's ears went even more red at his mistake. He'd been too busy with everything else going through his head to think that through fully.

"Just shut the fuck up Malfuck, how can anyone think with your stupid mouth running all the time?" he managed to mutter back to the blonde. "And so you know, you're going to be on the left tomorrow, then. I'm not going to sit here and try to use my left hand all the bloody time."

Ron just glowered over everyone, especially at Harry when he saw the raven-haired boy laughing. He flicked the boy off and flinched when he heard McGonagall shout his last name, shoulders hunching. He glowered at Harry more.

When the halfway mark passed and their table appeared, he noticed Draco flinch, smirking.

"Afraid of a wooden table now are you?"

He rested their hands on the surface and reached out, grabbing a chicken leg with his left hand and tearing into it.
 
"Yeah, you keep thinking that, Weasley."

Draco ignored the barb about his being startled, because it wasn't worth commenting on. The blond did, however, snicker when he heard Weasley's last name shouted from behind them. That lightened his mood considerably.

He ignored the attrocious table manners as best he could, hoping to not lose his appetite. Soon, though, something just had to be said if he was going to survive this week without starving to death. "Fuck all, Weasley. Cutlery. The shiny things next to your plate. Were you never taught proper use for them?" While he could admit in his own head that using a knife and a fork at the same time in the usual way was impossible due to their joined hands, at the very least he was able to use his fork to eat the shephard's pie that was the other choice for dinner.
 
"You mean outside of stabbing your brothers' hands when they reached for your food, or annoyed you?" he said with his mouth full, a bit of chicken ending up flying out. He took a few more loud, obvious chews for Draco's benefit before swallowing his mouthful. "No. And you're holding my main hand, so deal with it."

He took another bite of the chicken, and made sure to eat a bit more obnoxiously than usual. Though, he was an obnoxious eater to begin with. He'd lost track of all the dirty looks Hermione had given him over the years.


"You know," he said through another bite, pointing the chicken leg at Draco and shaking it like one might a finger, "you're prissy. Like a bloody bird. Or Hermione," he compared Draco to her, just to annoy him.
 
He gave a soft 'ugh' in response, not knowing what else he could possibly say to such poor breeding. "Don't remind me, Weasley." It was bad enough that they actually had to participate in this 'detention'. He didn't need the Gryffindor consistently talking about it in order to bring it to the forefront of his mind. He was doing very well simply forgetting about it as best he could for the time being.

Draco closed his eyes and continued to eat, allowing the droning buzz of conversation drown out the disgusting sounds coming from the boy next to him. Finally, though, dinner was done. The moment that their table disappeared, Draco dropped the heavy hand and wiped his palm down on his robes while thinking of burning them when he got back to the Slytherin common room. Blaise would hel-- Well fuck. The rest of their 'punishment' came back to him, then and Draco was glad that the table was now gone because he would have been sorely tempted to bash his head against the wood.

"Gentlemen." Looking up, he found his head of house hovering over them. "The headmaster has assigned me to escort you to your temporary living quarters." The blond gave another, internal, groan but stood.

"Yes, Professor Snape."
 
He let go as soon as they were allowed to stop holding hands, wiping his own on his robes. He stared up at Snape and nodded sullenly. He got to his feet, following the man as he lead them out.

"Oi Ron! Tell us if he's a cuddler!" Seamus shouted after them, laughing.

Ron's ears went red and he barely refrained himself from giving the Irish boy a rude gesture, fists clenching at his sides. He was going to come up with the worst detention he could think of and give it to Seamus once their Prefect statuses were reinstated after the punishment.

"I'll tell your mum to knit you a Ferret sweater next Christmas," Harry grinned.

He shot the scarred boy a deathglare as he stomped out behind Snape.

"You better tell your bloody beaters to knock him off his broom next game," he muttered, crossing his arms.
 
Snickering, Draco looked between the three Gryffindors. "Trouble in paradise, Weasley?" They had passed several Slytherins on their way to whatever hell-hole-room they were to be shoved into, but his housemates had very smartly kept quiet. Of course, that could have had something to do with his threatening curses the moment he got his wand back... And Draco Malfoy always followed through on his threats.

They were on a fourth floor corridor before Professor Snape stopped in front of a portrait of the Bloody Baron. "The Baron has consented to be your room guardian for the duration of your punishment. Your password is 'faire grâce'." Draco snorted at that, but stopped within seconds when a hard, cold stare was focused on him by the formidable Potions master. "It cannot be reset or changed. You will both spend your free time here, study here, and sleep here. The library is open to you in order for you to borrow books. Good night, gentlemen."

Draco huffed and gave the password, pushing past Weasley to get into the rooms and choose the best bed for himself.
 
"Bite me, Malfuck," Ron hissed under his breath, glaring. They got to the portrait and he just stared blankly at it when told the password. He had no clue what it meant, of course. But it was no more difficult to remember than some of the Gryffindor passwords had been.

With a small sigh, he followed Draco in, and the portrait closed behind them. He stopped, staring at the little room they were to share. There was...one loveseat in front of the fire.

Two chairs at one long desk.

But the worst of it, the absolute, most horrifying thing about the whole room...was one large bed.

One.

Bed.

"They're out of their bloody minds!" he shouted.
 
"Oh fuck all!" Draco threw his hands up and turned right back around, marching out of the portrait hole. There were some things he could make due with. There were some things he would tolerate. And then there were somethings that made him rather slit his throat than have to deal with even the thought. Sharing a bed with a Weasel was one thing he'd rather slit his own throat over. The blond stalked his way up to the headmaster's office and hurled the password at the guardian statue.

"Mr. Malfoy. I say this is a surprise."

"I doubt that. There's been a mistake. There is only one bed in that bloody prison you insist I spend my holidays in, and I won't stand for it. If I have to, I'll go to the Board of Governors and make my case." He had to hold himself back from punching the old man when he smiled at him.

"Alas, Mr. Malfoy, there has been no mistake. It simply stands to reason that there are only so many spare beds to go around. We were lucky to find the furniture that we did."

"That's a crock of shit, old man! We're wizards! CONJUR something!" The old wizard had the gall to simply sit further back in his chair and smile at him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but that's just the way it is. It's only for a week. I'm sure that you are both mature enough to not let something so small as sleeping arrangements get the best of you."

Draco let out a guttural growl of frustration. "I swear to Merlin, Dumbledore, that I will cause hell for this." The blond stalked from the office then, and to the library to seek sanctuary from his fucked up day.
 
Ron simply shook his head as Draco stormed off, sighing. He ran his hand through his shoulder-length red hair, glaring at the one portrait in the room that snickered.

"Bugger off," he muttered, figuring the portrait was there to spy on them. Tittering, the occupant of the portrait left.

Ron looked to the bed and noticed two trunks side by side,and easily recognized his battered, second-hand trunk. The much more pristine, expensive one beside it must be Draco's. Resigned, he walked forward, stripping down and pulling on his sleeping clothes, climbing into the bed. At least it was comfortable.

Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall had sought out Draco in the library, clearing her throat.

"You know the rules, Mr. Malfoy. You're not to go anywhere without Mr. Weasley. 15 points from Slytherin, and make your way back to your room immediately. There will be no more deviation from this."
 
Scowling at the old tabby, Draco wasn't necessarily concerned with the loss of points. Professor Snape would restore them somehow, or he would when he was made prefect again. "No deviation?" he asked, standing and facing the professor. "I don't think this punishment fits the crime, so to speak. I might have conceded forced space sharing. But when a school forces two of its students to share a bed in private sleeping quarters, it goes beyond what any one 'crime' could merit. And aside from that, I needed a book for my Runes assignment and Weasley refused. What was I to do, Professor? Not complete my assignments?"

So Weasley hadn't refused, because Draco hadn't asked. That was hardly the point of anything. "I'm sure that by trying to gather the materials needed for my assignments I've been relegated to the three foot long sofa tonight as the redheaded oaf probably took ownership of the only bed!" Perhaps if he bitched enough, at enough people, something would be done about it.
 
"You didn't pay quite enough attention to your quarters, did you Mr. Malfoy? I am here because the portrait within saw you stalk out of the quarters, followed you to the Headmaster's office, and notified me when you arrived here. Another ten points for lying and cheek."

Professor McGonagall drew herself up, staring down at the insolent Slytherin.

"Remember your place as a student of this school. You are to have more respect for your teachers. You don't believe the punishment fits? The alternative, Mr. Malfoy, was the expulsion of you and Mr. Weasley due to the severity of your confrontation. And if you continue to act in such a manner unbefitting of a Hogwarts student, you will effectively end Mr. Weasley's punishment early when you no longer have a place in this school. Now, return to your new dormitory. And if Mr. Weasley has taken up the bed, I would, if I were you, politely ask him to move. And remember, you are being monitored."
 
He tossed the book he'd been holding onto the table and stalked out of the library, thoroughly frustrated and pissed off. A letter to the Board was most definitely in order now. The blond stalked to the end of the corridor and then slowed his gait. The slower he walked, the less time he would have to spend in that bloody fucking room with that redheaded monstrosity of a wizard. He tried to make it seem as he was walking at his normal pace, because no doubt the damned Transfigurations professor was following him, but for the most part he figured he could take up at least fifteen full minutes by walking.

He thought as he walked, trying to solve the most pressing problem for the moment and that was the lack of proper bed. No wand meant that he couldn't transfigure something quite so big as a bed for himself, but the blond wouldn't mind sleeping on a mattress on the floor at this point, switching off days with the Weasel for the bed. Blaise and Pansy had stayed behind for the holidays, too. Maybe one of them would be able to sneak him their wand to borrow...

Eventually, he had to come to the conclusion that he could no longer put off entering the room. He did so, slamming the portrait door shut and commanding the lights to full brightness. Draco took stock of what was in the room, and what he could make use of. The loveseat's cushions could be removed... The blond did so and laid them on the floor. They still left a good three feet of length that he needed for a proper length bed. Eyeing the back cushions, Draco examined them carefully and realized gleefully that they zipped to the back of the sofa. He removed them and laid them end to end with the other cushions. It would have to do, he determined while admiring his handy work.

Opening his trunk, Draco removed his extra set of sheets and used them to wrap the cushions into place, and then stole a couple of pillows from the bed itself and his extra blanket out of the trunk as well. Satisfied with the makeshift bed, Draco entered the door at the south of the room, which he assumed was the bathroom. Sighing in relief that he was right, he changed and brushed his teeth before returning to the main room. "We'll switch, Weasley. I'll have the bed tomorrow night and you'll take the floor."
 
Ron had been close to falling asleep when the lights had come back on at Draco's demand. He sat up with an annoyed groan, shooting a dirty look at the blond. He watched Draco work in bemusement, then shook his head.

"Have it your way..." he muttered. He watched Draco enter the bathroom, and then looked over, frowning, then staring.

The Room was like the Room of Requirement, it seemed...only worse. As soon as Draco had gone into the bathroom, the makeshift bed pretty much unraveled itself, the cushions rising back into place on the loveseat, those sheets left on the floor.

"Bloody hell..."

When Draco came out and started to talk, Ron simply pointed at the couch which had been put back together. He had a bad, bad feeling the teachers may have anticipated their moves and had applied magic to combat it.

"It's like a fuckin' game of chess you can't win..."
 
Frustrated beyond anything, Draco punched the bathroom door. The blond stood there, contemplating his options. A few minutes longer and the blond firmed himself up, stood up straighter and turned back to face his 'roommate'. "I need you to come with me, Weasley. The portraits are spying on us and I need to talk to Snape." He kept his voice as level and civil as possible while moving to his trunk and pulling out his dressing gown. He was past no one listening to him about this, and Draco knew that Severus would be the one to understand. The Potions master knew Draco's history, and while he didn't want to bother his Head of house (who'd have thought that someone wouldn't see reason regarding forcing two students to commit sexual harassment towards each other?), Draco was now left with no option.

Looking up at the redhead, Draco fought himself to not say anything snippy while trying to find something to say other than "please".
 
He rolled his eyes and frowned, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and shaking his head.

"You realize he had to agree to this, right? And he likely knew everything that was involved? You have to understand that, don't you?"

Even he understood it. He thought he was the stubborn one, but apparently Draco could out-stubborn even him.

"Look, Malfoy..." Ron paused, pursing his lips. "As much as I bloody hate to say this, just...come to the damn bed. What do you think he's going to do? If he hadn't done anything to stop it by now, we're just going to waste our time. AND be out after dark. I'd rather not have them extend this into the bloody school year, how about you?"
 
"It's not that simple, Weasley." Draco wasn't going to go into details with the redhead, but he couldn't believe that Snape knew about this and let it go, knowing what he knew. "It... It's a trust thing, and personal. Just. I need to speak to Professor Snape." He ran his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to pull at it as his anxiety levels rose a bit. The thought that he may have been betrayed by one of the few people who he thought might understand him caused Draco a bit of trouble breathing. He took several large, deep breaths and focused on wide open expanses before he got himself under control.

"Just forget it, Weasley." He'd been stupid to think the bloody Gryffindor would help him, and he could speak to Snape in the morning. "I have some Pepper Up Potions in my trunk." It wasn't the first time he'd gone without sleep, and as the holiday had just started, he really did have homework he could do. The blond rummaged in his trunk and pulled out his potions bag, taking one of the energy potions before gathering his homework and settling himself at one of the desks.
 
Ron stared at Draco, frowning. He may not have been the best at reading people, but...something told him that this was pretty serious. Letting out a resigned sigh, he got to his feet and walked over to his trunk, pulling on his shoes and grabbing his robes to pull over his pajamas.

"Well, bloody fucking hell, if it's that important to you, let's go then," he huffed, pulling his second-hand, ratty robes closed over his too-short pajamas, turning to give Draco a little glare.

"Well, are we going, or did you decide you'd rather do homework?"
 
Looking up, Draco was a bit surprised. He had figured on Weasley shrugging him off and going back to bed. The blond nodded once in thanks, unable to form the words to speak them but he hoped that the redhead understood. As they exited the room, Draco took a better look at the pajamas and robes that Weasley was wearing and made a mental note to purchase some better ones for him as a thank you. Perhaps it was a bit overboard, but Draco was more grateful than a simple nod.

They walked along in silence. It wasn't quite yet past curfew, but nearly so and there were very few students in the corridors. The draft of the dungeons welcomed him, and Draco breathed in the safety of his home for the past six years deeply, letting it seep in and calm him. Down a few more corridors and they had reached Professor Snape's office. Draco knocked solidly and stood back, waiting for an answer.

The door opened smoothly. "Draco. Mr. Weasley. It's nearly curfew."

"Yes, sir. But there is...a situation, and I need your assistance." The Potions master gave them an open once over before nodding and stepping back. Draco entered, and assumed Weasley would, as well. When he heard the door click shut, he took a few more steps forward. "A silencing spell around the two of us?" he requested. The professor just nodded and cast a strong spell.

"Well?"

Draco explained the sleeping arrangements quickly. "We've spoken before about my past, Professor. I'm not asking for a king sized bed and suite of rooms to myself. I'm asking for proper sleeping arrangements that don't fail to make me feel safe."

"You think Ronald Weasley will attack you in the night?" he questioned, eyebrow raised.

"That isn't the point, and you know it." Severus hummed but nodded, conceeding the Slytherin's point.

"I will cancel the spells that the Headmaster put in place for the night, and I shall speak with him in the morning. Know, Draco, that you will have to tell your story once this course of action begins."

"Yes, I understand." The professor nodded and cancelled the silencing spell around them. "Then I will escort you both back to your rooms."
 
Ron sighed and walked on silently, keeping his robes tightly shut around him, glad they hid the ratty pajamas beneath. When they got to Snape's office, he was surprised, and slightly annoyed, that he didn't even get to be included in the conversation. He glowered at them, then turned to follow once they were finished.

"All that, and I don't even get to hear why you dragged me all the way here for?" Ron muttered to Draco, annoyed. "I'd think I at least deserve that much!"
 
He shook his head, keeping his eyes forward as they walked. "I told you, Weasley. It's personal." It was bad enough that he would have to speak to the headmaster regarding his weaknesses, but he'd be damned if he was going to tell Weasley, too, and have it spread all over school by lunch tomorrow. "I'm not trying to play games with it. It's just not something I speak about." They came up to the portrait and Severus gave the password. The Potions master studied the room with a thoughtful look, and nodded before waving his wand several times over. With the last pass, the sofa enlarged to a normal length, over-stuffed one.

"The original spells will replace themselves at precisely half eight. You should both be in the Great Hall by eight so I do not foresee this as being a problem. I will summon you when it is time to meet with the headmaster tomorrow, Draco." The blond nodded.

"Thank you, Professor."

Once they were alone again, Draco laid his robe over the back of the chair and set to making up the sofa with his sheets and blanket.
 
"We're going to be living together a damn week, I doubt there'll be anything personal between us after that," he huffed, frowning.

He stepped inside and watched Snape remove the enchantments. To say he was surprised was an understatements. He shook his head again and made a face.

"Oh, just take the fuckin' bed, then. I don't want to hear about Little Miss Prissy being all sore after having to sleep on the couch." Ron walked over, shooing Draco away from the long sofa and just flopping down onto it. He'd slept on worse things. Actually, the couch was more comfortable than a lot of things he'd slept on.

"Just go to bed already, and don't drag me out again."
 
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