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[ferretface_git]

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 forth from his chest in a shower of bloody rainbows and unicorns and puppies.

He was still a prat. Would always be a prat.

But she'd come to him that night, tears in her eyes, and she'd planted the seed. Over the weeks it had grown in his mind, ugly and untamed, like a weed, until it was practically all he could think about.

That bastard. How dare he?

He hadn't sought out the redhead twat. Not intentionally. But when he'd seen him, something in Draco snapped and he found himself striding across the grass, closing the distance fast, and at the last moment, drawing his fist back to strike.

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[deluminate]

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.livejournal.com]

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?"

[deluminate]

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.livejournal.com]

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?"

[deluminate]

Usually when these kinds of moments came around, there was someone nearby to make sure that this kind of thing didn't happen. Usually Harry was there to hold him back, or Hermione there to cast disapproving glances his way that helped him to just walk away, muttering insults under his breath. This time, however, neither of them were there.

Frankly, Ron was a bit happy about it. He'd been wanting to do this for ages/.

"Yeah right. Draco Malfoy giving a toss about someone else. That'll be the day. Ferret-faced git," he responded, voice gruff as he took a hard knee to the ribs. It was all he could do to try and punch Draco right in his stupid mouth before he was knocked off him again.

[of-badfaith.livejournal.com]

"I've been here for nearly four years. Luna for two. She came here with no one," Draco shouted, Ron's fist colliding hard with his jaw, his head clunking back against the ground. He'd bitten his own cheek, the copper taste of blood filling his mouth.

"All your talk about friendship and loyalty and you haven't got a bloody clue what's happened to her, here. You haven't even bothered to ask!" he roared, planting his hands on Weasley's shoulders and shoving with all his might.

[deluminate]

His vision was becoming obscured, eye already beginning to swell, and when Malfoy shoved him, he fell back onto the grass, landing hard on his tailbone. His hand hurt, his ribs hurt, but he still wanted to cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. It was for what he'd done to him and Harry, for whatever he was planning on doing to Luna.

"You. Are not. My friend!" Ron shouted back, "Just what the hell do you think you're playing at?"

[of-badfaith.livejournal.com]

"Who ever said I was your friend?" Draco said, his pointed face twisting with disgust. Scrambling to his feet, he immediately lunged, curling a hand in the front of Weasley's shirt and reeling back for another wildly aimed punch. He no longer cared where the next blow landed, as long as it caused some pain.

"Look around you, you fool. The war's over. Nobody gives a damn about purebloods or The Dark Lord or any of it, anymore. We've moved on. Some of us have even grown up," he said, aiming for the ribs, this time, "Don't take it out on her that you can't manage it."

[deluminate]

He took one to the jaw, vision still swimming as he reeled from the force of it. The shot to his ribs nearly hit just where his knee had not to long ago, and Ron groaned and pushed back with both hands on Malfoy's shoulders as he shoved him away. Half blind, he swung at Malfoy again.

"You don't get to take the high ground here! You don't get to pretend everything alright just because you've tricked someone into being your friend!" he shouted back, voice gruff and pained.

This wasn't supposed to be about the war. The war that was still so fresh in Ron's mind despite him not even having been at the final battle of it. But now Malfoy had brought it up and all he could think about was Fred. And Tonks. And Remus. And all the others who'd died back home. And maybe it wasn't Malfoy's fault-- directly, anyway-- but right now, it was good to have a face to put to all of that.

[of-badfaith.livejournal.com]

He only had a moment to feel smug, only a moment of deep, visceral satisfaction when his fist connected with Weasley's jaw, another to his ribs, before he was stumbling back, Weasley's fist crashing into his cheekbone, stars bursting out across his vision.

"I tricked her? I'm not the one who sent her home in tears. Why don't you go ask her which one of us has hurt her the most, lately," he sneered, still shaking away the haze in his vision, his next blow off-center and halfhearted.

[deluminate]

Malfoy's next blow hit him square in the shoulder, a great deal less force behind it than the one that had nearly blinded him at the start of their fight. But instead of swinging wildly again, he moved backwards out of Malfoy's reach.

"Tears? What are you talking about?" he managed, trying to catch his breath.

[of-badfaith.livejournal.com]

Taking another wobbling step back, Draco barked out a laugh and said, "It's impressive how clueless you are. Really. Takes a rare kind of talent."

He sniffed, drawing the back of his hand across his face, blood smearing along the way.

"You might think she's being made a fool of-- that she's wasted over a year of her life, but next time you broach the subject? Try and use a little more tact. If that's even possible, for you."

[deluminate]

"Oh, come off it. That didn't happen," Ron replied, wiping at his own face, and wincing when he grazed the already bruised skin near his eye. Malfoy wasn't above lying and saying something like that just to get a reaction, though.. there was something that made Ron suspect that might not have been the case. Or maybe he just wanted to be sure Malfoy wasn't telling the truth.

"...it didn't. Did it?"