Chapter Text
“What is this, first year, Malfoy? Nonsense!” said Ron, trying to be as quiet as possible. “Yes, pure nonsense!”
“Not nonsense. A nice bonus left by my amazing attentiveness this late evening,” Draco stretched contentedly, ignoring the urge to yawn.
The two stood in the middle of the Hogwarts classrooms, occasionally looking around and listening to the extraneous footsteps that did not yet exist.
“You understand that I'm not going to do anything?” Ron was about to turn around and leave. He needed somewhere to endure the embarrassment of shame alone, and he didn’t want to continue a series of failures and stumble upon Severus Snape here.
“Oh, so you didn't like my offer?” Draco waited for an answer, but seeing that the boy was silently turning around, he spoke drawlingly again. “Well, it's up to you, but I assure you, you won't like the looks on you by tomorrow morning,” Draco smirked, keeping his eyes on the back of Ron's head. “To think Ron Weasley tried to seduce Viktor Krum! If I had written in the Daily Prophet, it would have appeared on the front pages. Immediately!”
Weasley exhaled the tension built up inside him. He closed his eyes tiredly and for a couple of seconds he imagined how it looked in the eyes of the Slytherin. Walking through the dark corridors of the school, Draco noticed two silhouettes. He, of course, was not interested in them, but the voice of the hated guy attracted him, and he listened to the conversation without much thought. At the Weasley's desperate attempt to ask the Durmstrang student out on a date, he heard a clear “I'm sorry, Ron, but I doubt I have time for this” and retreating footsteps. Draco turned a corner and saw a tall boy leaning back against the wall, two fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“You really don't want to just forget about it, do you?” still not turning around, Ron decided to ask, not losing hope.
Draco fake laughed.
“Stupid loser, you think I'm going to leave you so easily after what I've seen? At a minimum, this must be conveyed to hundreds of people. Unless, of course, you want to agree with me. Only three people will know your failure. Me, you, Krum. I repeat: just the fulfillment of fifteen of my wishes during this year and you can be sure no one will know about this night,” he winked, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his robe.
Ron turned around quickly.
“You said ten!" he exclaimed, wrinkling his brow and lifting his upper lip in disgust.
“Time goes by, numbers increase,” Draco breathed out theatrically, still holding his hands in his pockets, as if bored by Ron's endless doubt. “Think faster. I guarantee that deals with Malfoys are usually extremely profitable.” At the mention of his famous surname, his face was always covered with annoying pleasure.
“I don’t find any benefit for myself,” Ron remarked dryly.
“I said usually, not always,” Malfoy looked haughtily at Ron. “The main thing is that now it works for me. Well, do you agree?” he nodded, at the same time involuntarily raising his eyebrows.
Ron breathed out all the air from his puffed cheeks, clenching his hands into fists. It was hard to resist the urge to punch Malfoy, but he knew it would only make things worse. Plus, he already felt defeated the moment Draco showed up, so he wasn't ready for an attack.
Weasley agreed, humbly lowering his gaze.
“Great, Weasel!” Draco clapped his hands almost silently. “Deal: any twenty wishes, and no one will know a second of your conversation,” he ignored Ron’s indignation, who heard the again increased number, and extended his hand from his pocket, but immediately came to his senses. “I won’t touch you. Deal.”
Caught, defeated, and humiliated, Ron was about to leave, still wary of meeting the Professor or Filch.
“Oh, by the way, now I understand why you are rubbing next to Potter,” Malfoy added purposely. “I was wrong. Thought you liked Mudblood,” he drawled contentedly, fidgeting nervously with the ring on his finger until he saw the boy's reaction.
Ron gritted his teeth and glared at his enemy with real anger. Draco froze in place in fear, regretting the words. He regrets only when he can suffer physically because of them. Without taking his eyes off, Ron quickly approached the guy and pushed, forcing him to slam into the wall.
“Damn it, Malfoy,” the noisy breathing made it hard to say the words. “Trust me, every time I see your face, I wish there was no living space left on it.” Still breathing vigorously, Weasley closed his eyes and swallowed hard to calm himself. “We used to fight in our freshman year at Quidditch, remember? Someday you will be unlucky and I will kill you.”
Draco watched fearfully at the red brows drawn to the bridge of his nose and narrowed eyes. It suddenly seemed that Ron's violent reaction was all that interested him. For the first time in years, he wished he could see more anger in him, despite the fact that at that moment he was desperately worried about his precious face.
“It's not my fault that you take everything to heart,” Malfoy added fuel to the fire with all consciousness.
In the silence of the corridors, it seems that one could hear the gnashing of teeth, but only Draco, who was close enough to the source of the noise, was their witness. Anger crept over Ron's face and body, but he wasn't going to be the instigator of crime today, so he reluctantly pulled away. With fear and even unexpected disappointment, Draco backed away from him, straightening his tie. He immediately wanted to add thirty more wishes, but his own life was more important. Therefore, he unceremoniously chuckled “Idiot!”, repeated the deal and wished to leave as soon as possible.
With a quick glance at the distant white dot, Ron hurried towards Gryffindor Tower, still looking around. Indeed, it was very late. Passing the Fat Lady, he entered the living room. Only a few students were awake. Ron shivered in the cold as he looked out the window. It was November and creeping winter slowly enveloping everything around in.
After wishing good night to the remaining Gryffindors, he famously ran up the stairs and ended up in the bedroom. Quietly changing clothes, he climbed under the covers. Finally, he was able to breathe and think about what had happened. He didn't even know where to begin, and had no idea which was worse, Krum's refusal or Malfoy's noticing. Oh yes. The worst was the acceptance of the Slytherin's proposal. Should have killed him right there. Of course, everyone at school would thank him, Dumbledore would bless him with hundreds of Gryffindor points, and Viktor Krum admired such courage and would take him to the Three Broomsticks himself. Alas, the moment is lost, the blond is tenacious.
“Where have you been?” a sudden voice snapped Ron out of his thoughts. It was Harry.
“Nowhere,” Ron replied.
Harry lay on his side so that he could see his friend.
“Enough. I didn't put my name in the damn goblet, I don't want to be in the tournament at all, it's akin to suicide. You understand this yourself, so why don't you believe me?” Harry was sure that now he would be able to reason with him.
“Maybe you can talk in the living room?” Dean Thomas' sleepy, displeased voice suddenly came up.
“Yes, sorry,” Harry looked at his neighbor, and slightly closed his eyes with his eyelids.
Dean's indignation gave Ron a moment or two to think. Ron hesitated a little, but spoke, only in a whisper.
“I think you want to be always and everywhere, so I thought it was a good option for you,” Ron muttered, immediately regretting it. He smiled unhappily to himself, furrowing his brows. "What a fool I am,” flashed through his mind.
“So that's what you think of me? Do you think that everything that happened to me, to us, is what I aspired to, in order to stand out?” Harry pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. “Think about it better.” This time, he turned to the other side, clearly making it clear that the conversation did not suit him. “And you know, I really wondered where you were at this late hour. Good night.”
Ron was extremely sleepy. The night skirmish with the blond upstart had exhausted him, and it was indeed too late. Yes, the dream was almost with him, while one after another burning thoughts changed in his head.
The tension in the air still hung over them, so he didn’t really want to lie in the same room with his best friend. He knew that Harry was also awake right now and was thinking about it. And he couldn't even say what this Malfoy offered him! Anyway he didn't really want to do that. He would have to tell him why. Reflections again turned to the situation in the corridor. How stupid it was. It's so easy to catch someone's eye, and even a fluffy princess of Slytherin! And getting rejected by Krum is such an experience. And what did he expect? Victor was four years older, and sports fame definitely turned his head! And now, because of him, Ron will have to follow orders from Malfoy. Why did he agree to this? What can this asshole even come up with? He can disgrace him in front of the whole school simply by wishing, but, on the other hand, if Ron did not agree, he would have been tarnished anyway, and not only in front of Hogwarts students.
Thoughts flew one to another, gradually starting to get confused, so Ron, who did not have time to understand them, fell into a dream.
The next day, Ron occasionally looked at Draco, but he did not pay the slightest attention to him at all. If it weren't for the embarrassed smile that crossed Krum's face when they happened to pass each other on the stairs, Ron would have thought he was all dreaming. It would be nice if Draco simply forgot about everything.
For several days, Ron kept his eyes on the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. Ron was already exhausted, although it was his own fault. He kept waiting for Malfoy to come up to him and give him a task, or, even worse, immediately inform everyone about Ron's sympathy for the Durmstrang student (it is worth noting that the Weasley friends, of course, had already noticed this a long time ago. Even Hermione had to get used to this idea).
So often he glanced there that even Blaise Zabini, who was sitting with Parkinson, once noticed this and, slightly throwing his head back and raising his eyebrow, moved his lips in displeasure “What are you looking at?”. Pansy saw this and also looked at Ron, tilting her head towards Blaise and smiling as she said something. Ron immediately looked at the wall behind the Slytherins, and then at the food in front of him, so that they realized that he was not looking at them at all. He was just looking around.
During the week of his observations, which had already stopped closer to the weekend, he noticed Malfoy's habit of looking at the food that appeared on the table every time with disgust before eating it. It even amused Ron.
Popping the last cookie in his mouth, Ron got up from the table with his mouth full and, meeting Hermione's angry gaze because of this, went to the exit. He was on good terms with her, but somehow it didn’t work out with Harry, so he decided to mind his own business and check on Charlie, who had just brought the dragons for the tournament.
Through the double doors, Weasley entered the lobby. He spotted Malfoy, obviously waiting for Ron. His entourage was nowhere to be seen, and Draco himself stood leaning against the wall, wearily watching as his hand slowly turned the ring on the ring finger of the other. Raising his head and fixing his gaze on Ron's blue eyes, he smiled wickedly and walked towards him.