Never Let Go

I rested my head against Ron’s back, his frame easily covering mine as we stood near the back of the greenhouse during our Herbology lesson. It wasn’t my intention to sleep through class. I happened to like Herbology. Plants, magical and muggle, seriously interested me, but on that Tuesday morning, I wasn’t physically capable of staying awake so early in the morning.

And that was all because of Pansy.

The fucking pug had spent the entire night messing with me. She threw water at my face, charmed my trunk so that it galloped around the dorm like a damn horse would, and when she ran out of ideas, she threw jellybeans at me. What kind of a person throws jellybeans at people at four in the morning? That made no sense to me, none whatsoever. I mean it’s just stupid and childish and I honestly don’t understand how she managed to stay up the entire night just to fuck with me.

It didn’t make sense. I mean, if you’re enemies with someone and have a long feud going, then, yeah, I see why someone would willingly stay up all night. But when you’ve only known someone for a little over a day and a half, it’s stupid to put yourself through that, but apparently messing with me was worth it. And when the sun rose at six in the morning, I climbed out of bed to go shower and was greeted by Pansy, whom was wearing a satisfied smirk on that damn face of hers.

At that moment, I seriously considered taking her head in my hands so I could bash it into the concrete walls that enclosed us. The damage done would be enough to send her to the Hospital Wing and get her out of my hair for a few days, but tempting as it was, my conscious refused to let me do so. I would have to find another way of getting back at her. I’d juts have to figure out, how it was that I’d go about it.

I spent a considerable portion of my morning, pondering about how I’d mess with her. I thought about it in the shower, as I got ready, and even as I walked to the Great Hall for breakfast, but the thought that had consumed so much of my time, vanished the moment I had my coffee. After that, all I could think about was taking a nice long nap. Where I took that nap, didn’t matter. I was tempted to rest my head on the wooden table and skip my only class of the day. If it hadn’t been for Jade and Chey, that’s what I would’ve ended up doing, but thankfully for me, they kept pinching me until we reached the greenhouse.

Once there, we maneuvered ourselves to the very back. Chey started talking to Jade about some record she’d just gotten in the mail and I was left to my own devices. So I stood there, struggling to keep my eyes open as other students began to pour in and when Ron approached us, accompanied by Harry and Hermione of course, I was happy because I knew I’d be able to nap on him.

Perhaps another wouldn’t have been able to find a comfortable spot on his back, but my head instinctively made its home between his two shoulder blades and within a manner of minutes, I was drifting into a peaceful sleep. The fact that I was standing did nothing to deter my napping. I was the sort that could sleep standing up, as well as in uncomfortable positions. Those were skills that I’d picked up in my years as a wrestler, because sometimes when you’re at a tournament, the only place to sleep is a deserted staircase or cramped seat.

I slept through all of class. Not like it was a big deal though. It was only the first day of class so it was probably just the professor going over what they’d learned the previous year. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself when I woke up.

“No offense Emi, but sleeping through class is wrong, even by my standards.” Ron stated as they walked out of class together. “You sick or something?”

“I wish. Then I’d be able to take some potion and get better.”

“If you’re not sick, what’s wrong with you? You finally lose your mind?”

“Oh, Ronniekins, we both know I lost my mind ages ago.” I patted his cheek.

“Oi!” he exclaimed. “Don’t call me, Ronniekins.”

“But Ronniekins,” I pouted.

“Call me, Ronniekins, one more bloody time and I’ll chuck you into the Black Lake.” he threatened.

“You’re being a grouchy little ginger.” I mused aloud. “You eat breakfast?”

“No.”

“Ah, that’s why you’re being such a grouch. You’re always a real dick when you’re hungry. Well, come on then, let’s go get some food in you before you get your ass beat.”

“Why would that happen?”

“Because you’d annoy me and I’d have to put you in your place.” I joked. “That a good enough answer?”

Ron shrugged. “This mean you’ve got a free period next?”

“More like a free rest of the day. I should probably study since Snape and Slughorn already assigned work, but I'm not gonna fuss over that today. I’ll worry about that the night before they’re due. What about you?”

“Done already,” Ron replied. “I’ve only got one class on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I don’t have any on Thursday and have two Monday, so it’s not so bad.”

“It’s not.” I agreed. “My schedule’s kind of like yours, but I have one class on Thursday. It’s, gonna be my favorite though, I can feel it.”

“Thought DADA was your favorite.”

“I like it, but it’s not my absolute favorite.”

“Then what is?”

“Muggle Art.”

“Art? You don’t seem the artsy sort.”

“Well, I am. I'm actually pretty good at artsy stuff.”

“You were never artsy growing up.” Ron argued.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be artsy now. You know what. I’ll sketch something for you, that’ll prove that I'm artsy.”

“Sketch?” he seemed unconvinced by the word. “Why don’t you just say draw? Sketch makes it sounds like you’re gonna make some masterpiece.” Ron mumbled, the lack of food in his system making him more annoying as time passed.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, if you don’t stop acting like such a prat, I'm going to take those freckles off your damn face.” I threatened.

“Don’t mean to,” he muttered. “Just haven’t eaten, is all.”

I rummaged through my bag in search of an apple, I’d stashed in it during breakfast.

“Here it is!” the apple was pulled out. “Eat this. It’ll make you less irritable while we head over to the restroom.”

“Restroom?” his eyes widened. “No one said anything about a restroom.”

“Well, I have to get out of this damn uniform. Can’t sketch in this,” I motioned to the ensemble that had me feeling like I was imprisoned.

A groan left Ron’s lips. “Ah come on, Emi. That means we’re going to have to go to the dungeons and no, come on, just stay like that. The uniforms not so bad, not really, I think.”

“Trust me, if I had to go back to the dungeon, I’d stay in these clothes all day. But I stashed some clothes in my bag before I left so we won’t have to go see those pureblood idiots anytime soon.”

“Doesn’t make sense to get changed, though,” Ron undid his tie. “You have to wear your uniform to meals during the week, only time you can go casual is on weekends.”

“Why are you being so impossible right now?” I stopped walking.

“Because I'm hungry and liable to kill someone if I don’t eat soon,” Ron answered honestly.

“Then you go to the kitchen and I’ll get changed and meet up with you.”

“But –” he began to whine.

“If you keep whining, I'm going –”

“Don’t you know whining is all Weasley’s good at.” Draco stood a few feet behind us, accompanied by his two goons. “Isn’t that right boys?”

The two massive teenage boys agreed with their leader.

“Shove off, Malfoy.” Ron didn’t bother masking his disdain.

“Why don’t you shove off and leave her alone.” Draco stepped towards us, his head hung high in the air and his nose slightly scrunched. “We don’t need you spreading that virus all you, Weasley’s, seem to have. And you, didn’t I tell you not to be going around making friends with the wrong sort? You’re a Malfoy. Act like it.

Punch him in the face. That’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to punch the smug from his face, but just as my right hand was balling into a fist, I remembered what I’d told Harry. I’d promised to be an informant if he needed me to and hitting Draco would seriously minimize the chances of that happening so I tried my best to contain my anger.

“Why do you have to be so rude for?” I opted for asking a question instead of verbally abusing him.

“What?” Draco clearly didn’t expect that response.

“Why do you have to be so rude?” I repeated. “Ron and I were just standing here, minding our own business and you waltz over here like you own this place and insult us. That’s not rad. And I don’t get why you have to be so rude for? Do you get off on that or something?”

“The only rude one here is you, fraternizing with a filthy blood traitor as if you were some mudblood.”

“Don’t use that word!” I snapped. “What is it with you people degrading others? Does it make you feel strong? Does it make you feel powerful? Because you’re not,” I placed extra emphasis on my last words. “Bringing others down doesn’t make you any better a person or more powerful. It makes you seem weak.”

“Weak?” he snarled and drew out his wand. “Care to say that again?”

Ron raised his wand in defense.

“Ron, put your wand down.” I told him.

“Are you mad?” Ron kept his wand at the ready. “He’s got a wand pointed at you!”

“I know, but just put it down, please.”

“No!” his jaw clenched.

“Please, Ron.” I placed my hand on his forearm.

Hesitantly, he lowered his wand.

I then redirected my attention to Draco. His wand was only a few feet away from my face. I could see its tip clearly and it took everything I had, not to take out my own, but I couldn’t fuck things up. Draco had to see me as being different from him, but not an enemy even though I was friends with his foe.

Ronald’s Point of View

“Are you mad?” that ferret wasn’t to be trusted. “He’s got a wand pointed at you!”

Maybe she thought Draco wouldn’t do anything to her since she was his cousin, but I knew better than that. Draco was a slimy git that didn’t care about anyone other than himself and he wouldn’t hesitate in hurting someone if it meant he’d have his way. That’s how all those Malfoys are. They don’t care about family or loyalty. Only thing that matters to them is money and power. That’s it.

And this thing that was going on between us was just another way that Draco wanted to make himself feel more powerful than he really was. He’d been doing things like that ever since his dad got locked up in Azkaban, but I honestly didn’t expect for him to go after Emilia. She’d just got here. You’d think he’d go after someone like Neville or me, but her? That just didn’t make any sense.

“I know, but just put it down, please.” She implored softly, her grey eyes staring intently into mine.

I hate it when she looks at me like that. Those eyes are just so . . . annoying! That’s a lie. They’re not annoying. She’s got nice eyes. Nicest ones I’ve ever seen, but I hate when she looks at me like she wants something, because whenever she gives me that damn look, I give in. That’s how it’s always been. Was like that when we were small and even now, I always fall for it. Don’t know why.

Alright maybe I do, but it’s not like its . . . bloody hell . . . it is.

“No!” my jaw clenched, I wasn’t about to let Malfoy hurt her.

“Please, Ron.”

And then she put a hand on my arm. She didn’t know what that did to me. No way, she’d have known that with just a touch, I’d do whatever she wanted me to. That’s why I dance with her even though I hate dancing. It’s that touch. It’s that look she gives. That smile. And putting all three together made me lower my wand, even though I really wanted to hit Malfoy with a nasty curse or two.

“That’s right Weasley, listen to your superiors.” Draco lowered his wand, feeling like he’d done something other than look like a bloody prat. “It’s good to know that even a blood traitor understands that a witch from money, is a witch that better be listened to.”

Money, always mentioning money, that’s the only thing he has more of than me. He doesn’t have friends, just goons that follow him around because their parents are spineless bastards that kiss his dad’s ass. If it wasn’t for that, he wouldn’t have anyone wanting to be around him. Because no one in their right mind would want to hang out with a git like him, if there wasn’t something in it for them.

“That’s it, Malfoy. You, me, right now, let’s do this.”

I could hear Emilia gasp beside me. “He’s not worth it.”

“Just shove off! No one cares what you think!” I yelled before I even realized what I’d said.

I’d never screamed at her like that. Not even when we were little and fought over pastries did I shout at her like that and I could tell she was thinking the same thing. The look in her eyes told me that she was confused about what was going on and a bit scared . . . of me. That was something I’ve never wanted her to feel towards me.

Some blokes might fancy having birds be afraid of them. Probably makes them feel like they’re manlier for it and yeah, I’ll admit that I’ve wanted to have birds look at me like that to, but not Emilia. Not her.

Malfoy didn’t say anything. He just looked over at Emilia who was staring at the wall with her nostrils flared. He had her eyes. The exact same grey, but unlike hers, his eyes were cold and distant, like he had no soul. But her eyes were different. They were nice. She’s got good eyes.

“Are you going to let that blood traitor talk to you like that?” Draco hissed.

“Why don’t you mind your own damn business?” I snapped. “This has nothing to do with you so go terrorize some first years.”

Malfoy scoffed. “You’re acting mighty brave right now Weasley, but you and the rest of your filthy family will get what’s coming to you. Mark my words.”

“Give it a rest, Malfoy. Or do you want me to bring back the amazing bouncing ferret? I’ve mastered the spell, you know, could give it a go right now.”

Thought Malfoy was going to do something or at least send his goons on me, but all he did was snarl and walk away. Figure I can claim this one as a victory. Not often I get one of those against Malfoy, but my celebration was short lived. I soon remembered what happened.

“Look, I'm sorry, alright. Don’t know what got into me. Bet it’s my stomach. You know how it gets when there’s nothing in there,” I joked, hoping that it’d be enough to get out of the mess.

She didn’t smile or laugh or do anything.

“You’ve never talked to me like that before.” Emilia whispered. “You talk like that to other people. You act like that to other people, but not to me, never me.”

“I know. It’s just I was . . . I was heated.”

“So whenever you get heated over something you’re going to blow up on me? Is that it?”

“That’s not it.” I was annoyed at myself for not being able to say what I thought without making a mess of it. “I’m sorry, alright. Don’t ask me to explain myself. You know I can’t do that. I'm not good at that sort of stuff.”

“And I'm not good at accepting half assed apologies.” Then she turned and started walking away.

“Where you going?”

“Somewhere far away from you.” she didn’t even bother looking back.

“What happened to going to the kitchen?” I chased after her.

“Go by yourself!”

“Awe come on, Emi, don’t be so dramatic!”

Why I said that, I don’t know. I get that it was a stupid thing to say. I understood that just as the words were leaving my mouth, but for some reason, my mind enjoys messing with my life. Thinks it’s a good bit of fun, I reckon, but it’s not. Because I'm always left looking like a git and most of the time, I don’t really care about that. I don’t think I’m actually a git and I don’t feel like one, but as Emilia raised her hand in the air and stuck her middle finger at me, I felt – for the first time in my life – like a git; a bloody stupid git.