Eight Days a Week

Chapter 5 - Thursday



Once inside, they watch each other warily for a good three minutes before Draco takes a step closer. Ron puts out a hand to stop him. "Wait. Tell me what's going on. What is this?"

"What do you want it to be?" Draco counters.

"Don't answer my question with another question! You're the one that... steered things in this direction."

"I don't see you running away."

"Malfoy," Ron tries again. "You hate me. And I-"

"Hate me too, I know."

"So why...?"

"I don't know why. It pisses me off. You piss me off."

"This is ridiculous. We should stop this where it starts."

"Yes, we probably should." Ron turns to go, somewhat mollified. "But you don't want to, do you."

The redhead spins back around. "Don't you dare try to get into my head. You don't begin to know how I feel about anything."

"Fair enough. Why don't I tell you what I see then? I see you coming back to me again and again. You hate yourself for it, but you do it anyway. We meet here, in this stupid room, arguing and fighting, because it's the only way you know how to justify being near me. Then you go home and try to convince yourself the only reason you're still thinking about me is because I make you sick. And yet it doesn't change the fact that you can't get your mind off of me."

"Why, you egotistical, little-"

"Everything you thought you knew about me means nothing. There is still this - whatever this is - between us that you can't ignore. I may have only kissed you yesterday, but you've been thinking about kissing me for years. You used to lay awake at night at Hogwarts after tussling with me, wondering what it might be like to touch me in a different way. If I might react the same as everyone else you've touched. You'd jerk off thinking about it, then curse your own name in the morning."

"Malfoy, which one of us are you talking about?"

Draco blinks, coming back to himself, and scowls. "Go on, then. If you're so sure you want no part of this."

"I still don't even know what 'this' is!"

"Shall I spell it out for you?!"


"Dense, guileless Gryffindors," Draco mutters. "Why couldn't you be a Slytherin? We wouldn't even be having this conversation! You'd know."

"Well, I don't, okay?! I'm sorry, but all I get from you are mixed signals! You don't even pretend to like me, and yet somehow you're willing to jump my bones. What the hell is that?"

"That is us. Admit it, the only reason you're still standing here talking to me about this is because you feel the exact same way."

"Alright, I admit it. I don't like you. Never have and I can't imagine I ever will. Yet, when I look at you... when I'm near you... I..."

"You what?"

"I want things I can't have."

"I'm here now."

"Oh, but I want more than that, Malfoy."

Draco frowns. "You can't expect me to make you promises..."

For the first time, Ron is the one to bring them a step closer. "No, I don't expect anything from you but the worst you have to offer. That way I'll never be disappointed." And with that, Ron turns and walks out the door.




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