felt bad about this, but things had gone too far now.
"Weasley," Draco said, with all the warmth of an arctic breeze in December, "if you dare to finish that insult, please know that I'm going to do my utmost to beat you to a bloody pulp."
Ron whirled around. He seemed at a complete loss for words to find the topic of their conversation standing directly in front of him. But then, a hard glint came to his eyes.
"Malfoy, I'd offer you my sympathies over the death of your mum, but that would only work if I felt sorry about it."
Harry said a foul word. Hermione gasped.
Draco smiled.
"Thank you so much," he announced. And then he punched Ron in the face.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Everything seemed to happen all at once.
Harry vaulted the table, either to go to Ron's aid or to break up the fight. Hermione rushed forward to assist him, but was sharply told by Harry to keep away, lest she take an elbow to the face.
He probably should have followed his own advice.
Ron, having attended the Weasley Family School of Scrapping, had only stared at Draco in dumbfounded amazement for a moment before he retaliated with a hard shove to the chest. Or at least, attempted to.
He was half a head taller than Draco and had a longer reach, but even so, it soon became apparent that he was not quite as quick.
Draco sidestepped him, which meant that Ron's shove met thin air and he unfortunately collided into Harry, who was unintentionally clothes-lined.
"Ron, you git," Harry wheezed from the floor, massaging his throat.
Ron turned, growled at Draco with renewed ferocity and made to tackle him around his midsection, but Harry intervened by sticking his foot out. Ron tripped, fell forward with a great deal of flailing arms and would have violently clipped his chin on the edge of the table, had Draco not pulled it out of Ron's way at the last second.
Hermione's wand hovered over the chaos. She couldn't decide between Stunning them or hosing water over them.
And then Madam Pince turned up.
**
Half an hour later, the three boys (two resigned, one unwilling) were seated with Ginny in the Great Hall, having been dispatched by Madam Pince from the Library with extreme prejudice.
The Great Hall was empty save for a Hufflepuff third year who had been reading the day's paper at his House table and humming a Weird Sisters tune. He clutched his copy of the Prophet tightly to his chest when he spotted Ron, having already lost the previous day's edition to the Gryffindor prefect.
"Private conversation. Rack off," Ron said to the unfortunate child.
Harry gave the startled boy a kindly look to compensate for the lad' s interrupted peace. The boy blushed and then continued on his way, smiling slightly.
Such was Harry's appeal.
Ginny listened, her brown eyes enormous, as Harry relayed Hermione's news, with no help whatsoever from an indifferent-looking Draco. The boys looked a mess.
Harry was his usual dishevelled self, but had undone the top buttons of his shirt and was rubbing at his neck. Draco' s school tie was hanging out of his trouser pocket and had looked distinctly wrung out. His white school shirt was completely untucked and there were buttons missing. The worst was Ron, however, who sported a black eye (it was red, going on purple) and a rip in the sleeve of his shirt.
Harry felt decidedly odd telling Ginny such personal information about Hermione, with Draco sitting across from them. Malfoy had his arms folded and a let' s-see-how-you-handle-this sneer on his pale face, but Harry managed the story without too much throat clearing.
The youngest Weasley paid attention and did not interrupt. Occasionally, she would glance at Draco, as if to make sure he was indeed sitting there with them at Gryffindor table and was not merely a figment of her imagination.
Draco and Ron were still staring daggers at each other.
"Where's Hermione now?" Ginny asked, after Harry was finished.
"Gone to the kitchens to get some ice." Harry cast a surreptitious look at Ron' s rapidly swelling, right eye.
"Does it hurt much?" Ginny inquired of her brother. She didn't sound particularly sympathetic.
Ron scowled at Draco. "No, because he hits like a girl."
Ginny snorted. "Last time I hit you, you almost cried."
"That was three years ago, if you' ll recall. And you didn' t hit me in the face."
"It was inexcusable, what you said to him," Ginny frowned at Ron. "Mum would be appalled."
Mention of the 'm' word didn't go down well.