A/N: Time for a new chapter, I think. Hope this one will keep you going for a while, as I'm going on holiday next week so won't get a chance to write. I'm sure you'll all cope without me, but will be back on the case asap.
Disclaimer: I think you all know the drill by now. The characters aren't mine...yada yada. Sheesh.
*****
“I must say, things have changed over the holidays haven’t they?” Malfoy drawled, lazily playing with his wand.
“What’s changed Malfoy? I still hate you, and clearly you’re still the arrogant git you were last year,” Ron replied.
Draco sighed with irritation.
“Honestly Weasley, you automatically assume that I’m talking about you. Huh. You call me arrogant.”
Ron looked confused, then watched as Draco’s gaze slid across to regard Ginny.
“Not such a little girl any more, are you Weasley?” he sneered, slowly eyeing her up and down, coming to rest on her blushing face.
Ron took a step towards him.
“Stay the hell away from my sister,” he growled.
Draco gave a look of mock-surprise.
“You seem to think I have some kind of unseemly interest in ginger street-rats.”
Ron reached for his wand but Ginny put out a hand to stop him.
“Don’t Ron, you know he’s just trying to provoke you.”
He looked at her, reluctant to back down, but finally gave in to her pleading look. With a last glare at Draco he turned away, muttering “Get lost, Malfoy.”
However he could barely move two steps before he heard an acid-tongued voice from behind him.
“You want to keep an eye on that sister of yours, Weasley. Rumour has it she’s becoming quite the school bike.”
Ron froze mid-stride.
“Ron…” Ginny began, but she was unable to finish as he whirled around and, without a second’s hesitation, punched Draco Malfoy squarely in the centre of his nose.
There was a resounding crack, and suddenly blood was everywhere.
“You stubid idiot Weasley, you’b broken by bloody nose! You won’t get away wib this!” and with that he stormed towards the castle, trying to stop the flow of blood with his robes.
“Ron “”
“I know, I know,” he groaned, “that was possibly the stupidest thing I could have done.”
“No Ron. That was fantastic. It was absolutely flipping fantastic!” Ginny laughed, throwing her arms around him. As she drew back she smiled at him. “Thanks for sticking up for me, big brother.”
He grinned.
“Anytime Gin. Especially if it means I get to punch that prat again!”
They walked slowly back up to the castle, laughing and linking arms.
*****
“Mr Weasley!”
Professor McGonagall was standing at the top of the steps leading up to the entrance hall, arms folded. Ron blinked: he could have sworn he saw steam coming out of her ears. Dejectedly he turned to Ginny, who gave him a sympathetic look.
“Let Hermione know what happened, would you? We’re supposed to be doing prefect duty in half an hour and she’ll kill me if I stand her up.”
Ginny nodded, then watched as Ron walked up the steps towards the furious professor.
“Follow me,” she said primly.
Head hung low; he followed her through the winding corridors until they reached a door Ron didn’t recognise. Professor McGonagall rapped smartly upon it and pushed it open.
“In here,” she snapped, and walked into a room that was lit by ornately carved candles, which seemed never to drip. As Ron raised his eyes, he saw several figures seated behind a large oak table. On his far left was Professor Snape, who looked positively thrilled to be there. To Snape’s left sat Professor Dumbledore, whose stern gaze caused Ron’s knees to tremble slightly. Finally, on the far right sat a small, bony woman Ron didn’t recognise. Professor McGonagall pulled up a seat in between Dumbledore and the strange woman, and there was a moment’s silence.
“Ronald Weasley, I am sure that you are aware as to why you are here?”
Dumbledore spoke quietly, and there was a hint of disappointment in his voice.
Ron swallowed and nodded slowly.
“I must say, it is unusual for us to have to deal with a non-magical attack such as this. I certainly wasn’t expecting this sort of behaviour from you.”
Ron could not bring himself to meet Dumbledore’s eyes, so settled instead for watching a spot in his beard, just beneath his chin.
“Mr Malfoy came to see me immediately after the act of thuggery occurred,” came a voice from his left, full of malice.
Ron half expected Professor McGonagall to stand up for him, but instead she merely gazed determinedly on, eyes fixed on a point just above his head.
“Of course Madame Pomfrey was called for, and Draco specifically asked that I inform his mother of the events. She came immediately. No doubt she wanted to see some punishment dealt out to the boy who disfigured her son.”
There was a sniff from the other end of the table, and suddenly it dawned on Ron who the strange woman was.
Narcissa was giving him a glare that could shatter glass, and he quickly averted his gaze.
“Now Severus, I think disfigured is a little harsh, don’t you?” Dumbledore said calmly. “Obviously we all realise, including Mr Weasley I think, that something like this cannot go unpunished, however one mustn’t blow things out of proportion.”
With a glance in Ron’s direction, he added “Perhaps we should first hear what Ronald has to say for himself?”
He felt Dumbledore’s steady gaze rest upon him, and looked up.
“Malfoy insulted my sister sir.”
Professor Snape gave a snort of derision.
“I do not think this was just enough cause to break his nose, Mr Weasley,” he sneered.
Ron stared defiantly at Snape.
“And he attacked me on the train, but that wasn’t so bad. Insulting Ginny wasn’t fair play, Professor,” he stated, looking back at Dumbledore.
“Many things in life aren’t, Mr Weasley,” he murmured. “What exactly was it that Mr Malfoy said to your sister?”
Ron felt his cheeks go hot but refused to break Dumbledore’s stare.
“He said that she was…that she was the school bike, sir.”
There was a cackle from the far end of the table. Ron turned to look at Narcissa, who stared back at him with an evil grin on her face.
“I’m sure you will agree, boy, that there is nothing wrong with telling the truth,” she said, with bitter laughter in her voice.
Professor McGonagall spoke up for the first time since she had entered the room.
“If you continue to talk like that Narcissa, I am afraid we shall have to ask you to leave the school.”
She glared at the bony-faced woman, and Mrs Malfoy sat back in her chair, looking distinctly sulky.
“Well Ronald, it was indeed wrong of Mr Malfoy to act in such a way, but I’m sure you can see that his behaviour is not a sufficient enough excuse to react in the way you did,” began Professor Dumbledore.
Ron lowered his head and nodded.
“Therefore I shall take sixty points from Gryffindor, and you shall serve three week’s detention, every night from six o’clock, starting from tomorrow.”
“Yes sir,” he replied.
“Good. You shall serve your detentions with Mr Filch. I understand that he has had rather a lot to do recently, you could help ease the weight he has to carry.”
“Professor, I hardly think that three weeks with the caretaker will…” Snape began, but Professor McGonagall cut him off.
“I do hope you’re not questioning the headmaster, Severus. You know what trouble that got you into last time,” she said, raising an eyebrow and giving him a meaningful stare.
“Well of course I wasn’t…was just…merely…” he trailed off, finally throwing himself back against the chair and crossing his arms.
“You may return to your common room now, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore said briskly.
“Thank you Professor.”
As he opened the door he turned back and caught an icy glare from Mrs Malfoy, then bolted back to the safety of the Gryffindor common room.
*****
The fat lady swung aside, allowing Ron to enter the common room. As soon as he had both of his feet on the familiar carpet, there was a sudden excited babble of voices. Someone was patting him on the back, and he heard various cries of “Good on you, Ron!” and “You’ve got guts, Weasley!”
Harry materialised before him and grinned.
“Heard all about it mate, Ginny couldn’t keep it to herself for long.”
Ron grinned back, and was ushered over to the sofa by the fireplace. Once he was settled, he began to speak.
“Oh, but they took sixty points from Gryffindor, Harry, and I’ve got to do three weeks detention with Filch!”
Apparently no one minded about the sixty points, and he did not get a chance to wallow in self-pity, as all anyone wanted was a blow-by-blow account of what had happened. Ron kept trying to apologise for the points, but finally gave in and took a deep breath before beginning:
“Well, it all started when we’d just had our Quidditch practise…”
*****