Please Be There If I Remember

Chapter Forty: Pandemonium

When the person let go, Draco whipped around and pointed it in their face. He blinked when he saw who I was and lowered his wand.

"Malfoy, what the hell," Ron hissed.

"What else was I supposed to do when some random person grabs me and drags me into an unknown hallway?" Draco hissed back.

Ron put his hands in his robe pockets and shrugged. Draco stared at him for one moment before spinning the wand around his fingers and into his pocket.

"What do you want?" He asked, empty mask on his face for he wasn't exactly sure what emotion to display.

Ron looked like he didn't quite want to be there, but clearly something was stopping him from just standing up and sprinting off since he was still standing there, a conflicted look stuck on his face. His eyes wouldn't meet Draco's.

"I was just wondering why you let me go that day."

Draco assumed that it must have really been bothering him if he felt so inclined to actually stop Draco to ask him about it.

He shrugged at the phrase, still not sure why he did it himself.

"It was the right thing to do," he said awkwardly. Saying to hell with it in his mind, he also added, "And I thought that Harry would want his best friend back with both his hands intact."

Draco then wanted to slap himself. You basically just told him everything, you dolt. Now he knows that I know about Harry's hand and that we've talked! You idiot, Draco, idiot!

Ron, who didn't seem to be aware of Draco's inner monologue and utter turmoil, looked as if he didn't know what to say in response.

He shifted on his feet before finally gathering the nerve to look at Draco.

"Thanks," he eventually said. "For...that. No matter the estranged reason," he added.

Draco knew that Ron still didn't quite believe him, but he definitely thought that maybe something had changed with him to make him let him go after being specifically told by Umbridge to get them.

Draco smiled softly. Not a smirk, but an actual smile, and Ron almost fell forward when he shifted onto his other foot.

He was about to walk away when Ron uttered, "Malfoy, wait."

Draco stopped mid-turn and turned back to him with a raised eyebrow. Ron stared at the ground at the scrutinising gaze. "You have that quidditch game against Hufflepuff soon, right?" At his nod, he remarked, "Well, Gryffindor has a game against Ravenclaw at the end of the month, and...I was wondering if you want to practice together again?"

Ron looked like he wanted to throw himself into a wall the way his face was morphing into the same colour as his hair at the question. "I wouldn't dare to ask anyone else in my house, and asking Harry would be even worse. You're the only person I would know to do it who won't laugh in my face publicly. At least, you didn't last time. But," he said, stepping forward. "You can't tell anyone about it. If you do, I'll—I'll hex your face off, or something!"

Draco almost laughed at the strange, half-arsed threat, but made sure he kept his mask clear of any amusement for he was sure that Ron would run away if he saw it. Surprisingly enough, Draco thought that behind all the talk of seeming like he was above everything, Ron just didn't want to be shadowed by Harry. For that reason, he agreed.

"Sure, Ron. I need the practice without Flint breathing behind my neck every time I fly, anyway. Tonight at the pitch at eight?"

Ron blinked harshly in the dim light and remarked, saying, "Well that went better than expected," under his breath before nodding and scurrying off. Draco watched him leave with an odd expression on his face before shrugging it off and walking to his next class.

I guess I'll be going to the quidditch pitch tonight.

~*"*~

Practising with Ron had been the most intriguing experience Draco had experienced since waking up with no memories. Ron finally appeared to believe Draco, and he knew that letting him go, even with Umbridge breathing down his neck, had been a huge part of that realisation.

He had even gotten him to laugh a few times, which Draco saw as a huge accomplishment. (They were mostly jokes at the expense of himself and his atrocious throwing style, but a laugh was a laugh, so he saw that as a win.)

Ron had also grudgingly given him a few tips to fix his flying style, telling him to focus more on shifting his weight when turning instead of mostly using the handle. Draco now found making the necessary turns more sharp and clean by leaning into the corner, even if his heart had momentarily stopped when his body had flown sideways, his shoulder the closest thing to the ground and the world tilting at a sickening ninety degrees.

Ron had snickered at Draco's terrified face and Draco proved him wrong by doing it again and again until he could no longer tell when he was upright and almost fell to the ground when he stepped off his broom at the dizziness that welcomed him.

Ron was the one to finally end the night, clapping him on the shoulder really awkwardly and saying, "You're alright mate," before walking off.

Draco took it as the compliment that it was, glad that they had finally come to a mutual agreement and—if he was being optimistic—an acquaintanceship of sorts.