by Chelsea
behavior! I'm sorry, I got grounded for a week! I was
just ungrounded today. I went online last night because I
had a desperation for you guys, and I find a post that was
dated April 5th. I had my name on it, only in black, and
no email next to it. It said, and I quote, "i will update,
not" I couldn't believe it! That was just rude, whoever
you are. Another rule to add to my list: NO IMPERSONATING
PEOPLE!!!!!! If someone dares to defy
(donchoodaredonchoodare!!), just know that my name is
always in red because I have a password that I enter.
Also, my email address is always beside it. If you have
any problems with me or my mother's choice of punishment, I
have no problem with you sending me hatemail filled with
cuss words and accusations. I recommend you don't sign
your name to it, though, because I'll hack into the Winglin
information headquarters and get your REAL name and
information. We don't want that, now do we? Exactly.
But, on a happier note, I'm finally updating! And I tried
to make this as long as I could, but it didn't work out
that great, so deal.
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Ron woke up that morning, finding himself in a four-poster
bed. It was rather large, bigger than any he’d ever seen
before. He wondered where he was and how he’d gotten there
for a brief moment, but he figured it out almost
immediately afterward. He was in a Slytherin dormitory,
most likely Malfoy’s. He didn’t know how long he had been
there, but he did know how he’d gotten there.
When Ron had gone to meet Ginny, a thought occurred to him:
Why didn’t Ginny just meet me in the common rooms? Then he
thought, She probably had her own reasons. Ron arrived
outside the Trophy Room and stayed there for quite sometime
before another thought grazed his mind: Wouldn’t I have
seen Ginny on the way down here since we’re going to the
same place from the same place? Again he countered it: She
might’ve thought it would’ve looked suspicious. He walked
inside the Trophy Room, looking for something to do. He
decided to look around for his and Harry’s Service To The
School awards they had earned in their second year for
killing the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets when he
heard whispering and a clank.
“Crabbe, you big ugly git! We have to be quiet or
Weasel’ll hear us. We don’t want that remember?” Ron
tensed up. He tried to run, but blindly, and ran into a
suit of armor.
“Guys, get him!” yelled Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle suddenly
appeared and grabbed Ron, trying to knock him out. They
succeeded, and the last thing Ron remembered was Malfoy
coming into view, smirking and saying, “We’ve got her
now.” Thinking back, Ron thought Malfoy’s last words were
a little odd. Why, for instance, did he say ‘We’ve got
*her* now’? And why—
His thoughts were interrupted as the door burst open and
Malfoy walked in.
“Oh good, you’re up. I’ve just been to breakfast. Potty
and Hermione are very worried. Asking everyone they know,
trying to remember what owl delivered that letter. They
even asked Ginny where you went after you’re meeting. Took
all my will power just to hold back from saying ‘I’ve got
him, he’s safe.’”
“What?” Ron asked, in a state of disbelief.
"Yes, Weaslel, you heard right. I didn't kidnap you to
kill you or toture you. No, that would require far too
much effort. I've put you up for ransome. Do you want to
know what I've got you for? What I want?" Malfoy asked
devilishly.
"Surely not money? Like you need any. So tell me Malfoy,
what do you want for me?"
"Well first, I'll tell you why I chose you, Weasel. I
won't lie. You're not the brightest spark, are you?
Nope. So I thought, He's probably the most gullible, too.
So I wrote that note to you, and voi`la! Here we are. Am
I not a clever person?" Ron opened his mouth to answer, but
Malfoy dragged on befor he got the chance.
"Rhetorical question. So, you really want to know what-or
who really, I want want for you?"
"Would you just tell me before I beat you into oblivion,
Malfoy?" Ron answered angrily.
"Now, Weasel, don't take that tone with me. Crabbe and
Goyle are right outside that door there. Now, as for who I
want... Weasley, do you know that any girl-*any* girl-that
I wanted would have me? Any girl in this whole freaking
school, I snap my fingers and, pop! She's here by her own
free will. They'll all do whatever *I* fell like doing; Go
to Hogsmeade, read a book, torment people, have sex...
Anything. Every stinking girl! Except one. Have you ever
heard the phrase 'Men always what they can't have?' This
is when that comes to mind. I believe you're quite close
to the rebel-girl, the one who won't have me, bend to my
every will. Do you know who I'm talking about, Weasel?"
Malfoy's voice suddenly sounded soft, caring, as if it were
butter melted on a kitchen countertop. Still kind of
solid, but partly liquid, too.
Ron was silent for a moment before it dawned on
him. "Hermione?"
"Hermione. In third year she slapped me, remember? Best
moment of my life. She had actually touched me. Not my
favorite way of being touched, of course, but still... I
fell for Hermione the first time I ever saw her. I still
can't figure out why. She not as pretty as half the girls
in this school, though I've never seen her out of those
awful, bulky uniforms we wear. And, it can't be her
intellect. I could have any smart girl I wanted, except
her. You know what I mean, don't you Ron?"
"What'd you call me?"
"You know, it get boring calling you Weasel. But, you *do*
know what I'm talking about, don't you? That *thing* about
Hermione?" Draco sounded extremely strange now. Ron
thought he recognzed the tone when it occured to him: He
himself had used it. It was the tone of voice a man has
when discussing or talking to the one he loved. Ron was
shocked. He felt slightly disappointed, but then
remembered Hermione wasn't his.
"Yeah. It just something about her. Something really..."
he answered, now unconciously changing his voice so that he
sounded like a close friend, not an enemy.
"Special." Draco finished.
"Yeah." Ron agreed. They sat in silence for a while,
thinking of synomyms for Hermione. They both came up with
the same ones: Special, unique, talented, lovable, and
intelligent. Suddenly, Ron realized as he sighed that he
was acting like Draco's best bud.
"I just had a *moment* with my worst enemy, fantasizing
about my best friend. That was weird." he thought aloud,
not thinking.
"You're right. But, anyway, back to the original topic: My
plans for you. I'll keep you in here. Don't worry about
school, I've bribed the teachers. You'll be getting full
marks in every subject until I say. I have a personal
house-elf here at Hogwarts. He'll be bringing you your
meals when you say. You are only allowed to come out of
this room to go to the bathroom. There is one in the first
door on the right out of this room. Even if you try to run
away while I'm in classes, it won't matter. I've got you
bound to this hallway, so you can't go anywhere close
enough to get to someone. I have my own personal
quarters. No one is allowed in except the house-elves,
Crabbe, Goyle, and me of course. And," He looked at
Ron, "Selected guests. You may do what you wish during the
day. I have radios, books, magazines, chess, Exploding
Snap... You name it, I have it. Just call a house-elf,
and ask for whatever you want. He'll bring it."
Ron sat and gaped at Malfoy. He was apparently much more
clever than Ron had thought. But then another on of his
out-of-nowhere things struck him.
"What happens if Harry and Hermione agree to your-er,
*ransom*?" he asked.
"*When* Harry and Hermione agree to my ransom, then I shall
set you free, no harm done. No connection need be made
between your absence and the Malfoy name; I made sure of
it."
Another thought whizzed through Ron's mind, "What exactly
do you want from Hermione? Not, like, er-" he asked, very
cautiously.
"No, not sex. I love Hermione too much to hurt her. I
just want a date. To Hogsmeade, around the lake,
whatever. I just want to be alone with her, try to figure
out what I fell in love with. But, I'd better be going.
Classes start in a few minutes. Just remember: Don't try
to go anywhere today. I shall know."
Draco sat in class, wondering if what he was doing was
right. Of course it is, you bastard, he thought to
himself. He let his eyes stray to Hermione, her eyes full
of worry. How he wanted comfort her, to tell her Ron would
be all right, even better than all right. Ron had every
luxury a sixteen-year-old boy could possibly want. Ron was
being treated better than Draco. His thoughts were
interrupted as Potter's cold eyes met his.
"What're you looking at, Malfoy?" he asked suspiciously.
"Well, Potter, as I was looking at you, I suppose I was
staring at nothing." he replied sarcastically. Just
because he was in love with Potter's best friend didn't
mean he had to be nice to Potter.
"Mr. Potter, I suggest you get to your potion; It as if it
badly needs it. And, Draco, would you step outside with
me? I have a message for your father." Snape had appeared
making his presense known with a sarcastic comment.
"Why can't you just send him an owl yourself? I'm not your
house-elf." Draco answered, being the little rich boy that
he let out only on special occasions.
"Draco, would you please step outside?" Snape was now
giving Draco his look that could kill.
"Fine!" Draco walked outside the classroom with Snape
leading him. "What do you want, Snape?" he asked quite
rudely.
"Why are you staring at Granger like that, Malfoy? If your
father knew that you had a thing for a Mudblood, he would
be angry beyond belief."
"I do not have a thing for her, Snape, and if I find out
you have spread such a perposturous rumor around, you might
find you are no longer the Potions Master at Hogwarts. I
was looking at her because-" he hated lying, but it was the
only solution. He was saved the trouble of thinking up an
excuse for looking at her beacause Snape interrupted him.
"I completely understand, Draco. Completely naturally for
a man your age. You were just wondering what Mudbloods
were like in bed, right? I have wondered the same thing,
boy. Do tell when you find out, you hear?" Snape smiled
meaningfully and walked back in. Draco, relieved but
slightly angered, followed. He went back to his Joyful
Draught and of course, got full marks. The rest of the day
went by quickly, for Snape had given him something to new
think about. If Hermione some how, by some miracle, felt
the same way for Draco, would she have sex with him? It
would be my greatest achievement, he thought, then
instantly felt ashamed. Not an achievement, he corrected.
Something else, something very special. But, if she didn't
feel the same, he wouldn't push her to do anything she
didn't want to do. He would completely respect her
bubble. He skipped lunch to write the ransome letter in
the library. When he was finished, it looked like this:
Dear Hermione,
I have Ron. He is completely safe. I will be sure of it.
His grades are secure, they will not drop. He will be
released as soon as you agree to my ransome: You. I want
one, single date with you. Anywhere is fine. Send your
reply back with this owl.
Draco didn't want to sound criminal, so he avoided the word
kidnapped at all costs. He handed the letter his pure-bred
eagle owl, making sure it had no indication of his
identity. The owl took off out the window, and Draco went
to the Slytherin common room to wait for his reply, which
he knew would be coming soon. Sure enough, his owl flew in
the window next to his chair about a half hour later,
dropping the letter on his lap. It landed for a few brief
moments before taking off to the Owlery. Draco tore open
the letter and read it:
I agree to your ransom. When will we get Ron back? Could
you tell me who you are?
Short, but so sweet. He dashed a response quickly, reading:
Ron will be back with you after our date. We can go next
weekend, if you like. There's a Hogsmeade visit. Don't
bring Harry or anybody else. I just want a date, nothing
else, so you're safe with me. I can't tell you who I am,
bu I can tell you that I've loved you since the moment I
saw you in the first year. I'm in your year, the sixth.
Meet me at the Three Brooksticks next weekend. Is that
okay?
He ran up to a random boys' dormitory and grabbed his owl.
He tied the letter to its leg at told it, "Bring the
response straight to me, okay? Good boy, or girl, or it,
or whatever. Now, go!"