"A why is very interesting being both a question and an answer in one."

Ron sat in study silently, feeling somewhat alone. He wasn't, of course, Harry and Hermione sat directly next to him, chatting on about their project with one another. They already had a creature picked out, a carbu . . . something, Ron couldn't fully recall the name. So, he stared longingly at the pages of a book Malfoy had practically enforced upon him, seeing as he was somehow done with all of his work for the day. He tried not to think of Malfoy too much, it made his brain hurt, for reasons that he couldn't quite understand.

But, it seemed that the more he tried to forget him he thought of that silky blonde hair, smug face, and pale skin. And soon, he would be the only thing he thought about, a single thought that burned through the rest of them. A melody stuck in his head. He didn't know why, he didn't want to think about why. He was just always there, lurking behind some shadowy corner in his brain.

"What do you think Ron?" Hermione said, staring up for her shared parchment with Harry. They both stared at him expectantly, eyes wide, smiling faces. What was it they said? "Huh?" He said, feeling as if he was just caught doing something bad.

"Do you think we should use the primal and rather barbaric method of a cage for catching our creature, or finding a spell that would hyper-extend the creature for a short time so that we could transport it?"

"I- whatever you think is best, I haven't got a clue," he said nonchalantly, trying his best to forget anything and everything he had been thinking of previously. "How's working with Malfoy going?" Harry asked, a smile spread amongst his face. Everything came rushing back like a tidal wave. How was he supposed to answer that?

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either (for multiple reasons). It was more some hazy, dreamlike middle ground where everything was here and then, known but entirely unknown. "Terrible," Ron settled on regretfully. "Feel for you mate, I don't think I could stand to be in his presence for more than two seconds." Harry said, taking up his quill and beginning to write on the parchment.

"Have you two gotten anything done? The project is due in six weeks," Hermione asked, her brows kitting together in genuine concern. "Hardly, it's difficult to do anything with the bloody git," Ron said, simultaneously lying and telling the truth. They really hadn't gotten anything done. Every time they actually started reading it would end in either an argument or an insult-ridden side conversation.

It left them considerably behind everyone else in the class. "You must try and put aside your differences for the assignment. Honestly Ronald, I dislike Malfoy as much as you do but its not worth failing over," she said, returning to her assignment alongside Harry. "I know," he said, faining exasperation. Did he know?

At that moment, it felt like he knew absolutely nothing. Least of all how to properly work with the likes of Malfoy.

___

What about a cockatrice? I've seen a few before in a zoo," Ron said, staring at Malfoy taking down notes from across the table. He hand worked quickly, the dark veins in it becoming more and more visible by the second. Ron always wondered what he was writing, it felt like sometimes he was taking notes about absolutely nothing, just recording random thoughts. "Weasley, they breath fire, I'd rather not suffer third degree burns for a school project," he said, his hair draping over his eyes.

At that point Ron was annoyed, it felt like every idea he gave him he turned down. "Maybe than you'd look better," he said, tapping his quill viscously against the table. "I dare you Weasley, this is not a subject you want to tread on," he wouldn't even look up, just kept writing. "A bogle," Ron said,

"impossible, to difficult,"

"okay, than a gnome,"

"to much searching,"

" a pixie," Ron said, purely infuriated, his face had grown hot.

"too fast," Malfoy said with a smirk. It was official, Ron had lost it.

He stood up, thankful that the library was completely empty. "What do expect us to do then? Sit here in silence forever? Fat lot of good that does!" He balled his fists, causing them to turn a milky white color.

"Would you please sit down," he said comfortably, not really asking, but demanding. "No! Not until you pick something!"

"Bloody hell Weasley, I have a creature picked!" He said, turning towards him at last.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Ron asked, sitting down slowly. "I was going to until you started spewing random things,"

"funny," Ron said, "what is it?"

"A camazotz," he said, his voice forebodingly deep.

"which is?"

"A demon bat, they live in the deepest parts of the forest. Caves specifically," Ron took a moment to think about this, every horrifying possibility coming to mind. The very word "demon," sent a chill crawling down his spine. "Great, just great," he said, making a frown deeper than he ever thought possible.

"How are we meant to catch it?"

"Haven't gotten that far yet," Malfoy said, his face plain, devoid of emotion. For a second, Ron thought it was petrifying how he could change emotions so quickly. "What are you writing?" Ron asked quickly, without truly thinking about what he was saying.

He was curious, to much for his own good. And, he had positively nothing better to do than sit in a library. Mine as well interrogate Draco Malfoy while he was at it, right? He looked up at him again, grey eyes boring into his own. "I don't see how that's any business of yours," he said, placing his quill back into the ink block.

"I'm just wondering," he said innocently, for it was the whole-hearted truth.

"well don't, don't wonder." Malfoy said defensively. And, Ron thought that maybe he was going crazy, but he could've sworn he say something change in his eyes. Some switch flick, illuminating the soft white light behind his shroud of darkness.

For the smallest measure of a moment he was another person, vulnerable and tired. His eyes belonged to that of another, someone hidden, someone trapped. "Can I see?" he asked, wondering for a second if he was talking to the mask, or to the hidden one. Malfoy looked purely astonished, his eyes agape with horror.

"I- what? Have I misheard you, because I thought you asked if you could see what I was writing?"

"I did," Ron said, he didn't know what he was saying. He felt that he had no control over his mouth anymore, and his subconscious was spilling out unwillingly. He was amazed at how fast his "hate," hurried off.

He tried to find it, grapple for it with clawed hands and bared arms, but it always seemed too out of his reach. "No, absolutely not," he said, becoming less angry with every lingering stare that they stole at one another. "Suit yourself Malfoy," he said, facing down towards the book that he was reading, which was completely and utterly pointless at that time. So, he waited until Malfoy wasn't looking, and as soon as he took a quick glance at the book he had open, Ron grabbed the parchment and made run for it. "Weasley, give that back!"

Malfoy shouted, chasing him around tables and seemingly never-ending bookshelves. Ron dodged table-lamps, and writing utensils, and the librarian who was screaming at them with a vehemence that mad him nervous. What was he doing? Merlin, what in Godric Gryffindor's name was he doing? It wasn't like him, to steal things and run.

But, he had to see it, he had to. With that, he leapt behind a shadowy bookshelf, shielding himself for a brief time. He pulled out the semi-yellowed parchment and read with an unbridled excitement that made him jumpy.

Pleasant Things

Why must you be so tantalizing?

Yet barren and fretful

A distance that cannot be crossed

With that of a dreams kiss

For I have fear

That I shouldn't have anything to miss

Ron stared at the words, and continued to stare even when Malfoy ripped the paper out of his shaking hands. "Happy now?" He said viscously, stomping off to grab his bag. He didn't seem legitimately angry, more hurt and surprised than anything. Ron only watched him go, his cloak dragging on the floor behind him. the entire time, he had one thought.

One, single thought that floated in his head, expanding like a balloon. What are you?