Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley
Summary: Draco and Ginny have a tete-a-tete, much to Ron’s dismay.
Word Count: ca. 500
Author’s Note: Written for Sid’s Writing Challenge at the D/G Forum. The prompt was Tea Time Trauma.
Spoonful of Sugar
Ron blinked, trying to erase from his mind the scene that was taking place in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. Futilely, he blinked again, several times, but the picture remained the same. His little sister, Ginny, was bustling around the old, dreary kitchen making tea for Draco Malfoy. Ron watched in disbelief as she laughed at something Malfoy said, and turned her back to the Slytherin while she stirred something into a cup. Poison, Ron thought hopefully.
When Lupin had brought a wounded Malfoy to the Order’s doorstep some weeks prior, Ron had known it was a Bad Idea. The slimy, evil, conceited git would find some way to spy on their activities, he had protested without avail. Lupin had rebuffed his concerns by emphasising the extra security placed on Order Headquarters, which made it the only place to store such a high profile prisoner as Malfoy. Ron had been forced to bite his tongue. Now, he thought with grim triumph, now they would have to listen to him. The Death Eater had obviously found some way to enchant Ginny, which proved his innate capacity for wrongdoing.
Ron narrowed his eyes as he watched Ginny place the cup in front of Malfoy and ruffle his hair affectionately when she retreated. Silencing an outraged squawk, he burst into the kitchen and glared at Malfoy who was seated quite innocuously at the dining table. His right arm was bound in a sling – broken, Hermione had pronounced when they brought him in. She had set about healing the bones quite nicely, but he still had to wear the sling to prevent his arm from jostling too much. Ron entertained fantasies of aiming a well-placed kick in Malfoy’s direction.
“Yes, Ron?” Ginny queried, still stirring. “Would you like some tea?”
“Would I like – ” Ron spluttered, looking at her incredulously. Malfoy smirked at him, and Ron reminded himself that Malfoy was little better than a hostage these days. Violence on Ron’s part would be far too easy an avenue of retaliation, and it wouldn’t be as satisfying as trouncing the prat on a battlefield.
“Tea, Ron?” Ginny offered again, glancing at him as if to ascertain whether he still had all his marbles. She seemed to have come to the conclusion that he didn’t, because after raising her eyebrows at his bewilderment, she continued preparing the brew.
“NO!” he shouted in surprise when she took a seat beside Malfoy at the table. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and Ginny looked at him curiously. Ron failed to detect the glint of mischief in her eyes.
“I had no idea you hated tea with such passion, Ron,” she remarked, and the tips of his ears went red.
When Ginny linked her fingers with Malfoy’s a moment later, and murmured softly in his ear, Ron collapsed weakly into a chair.
“I think I will have some tea, thanks,” he mumbled in a strangled voice.