What are you?

Terrible

A week had passed since the "incident." At least, that was what Ron had been calling it. He otherwise tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about anything really, just schoolwork, his project (which was now a one person affair), and of course, food. Definitely not about the letter filled with moonlace petals that he had meticulously hidden behind a stack of random books, or even the green and silver scarf that sat under his pillow.

No, those things were off limits. Reduced to this untouchable, singular part of his brain where everything was just incoherent nonsense. And, Ron was okay with that, or, he thought he was, anyways. He hadn't spoken to Harry much, or Hermoine for that matter. Ever since they found out that he was lying to them, things were just . . . odd.

And, quite honestly, Ron didn't know if it was because of that, or that fact that Professor Dumbledore had completely rejected Harry's piece of crucial information. Did he think he was lying? Ron didn't know, he had given up trying to know anything really. But, regardless, Harry had still been excessively put off by this. the conversation between the two of them went something like- "Ron!"

Harry shouted, barging into their dorm room in a bout of what looked to be a mixture of confusion and annoyance. Ron wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Maybe he would ask about the letters again. Maybe he had found the scarf. Thoughts like this had plagued his mind ever since the incident, and, Harry's constant prodding about had definitely made it worse.

At that thought Ron's chest froze up, his heart nearly springing out from his chest. This feeling, over the course of seven days, had become completely natural to him. "Dumbledore didn't believe any of it. He said that Malfoy was innocent," Harry said in exasperation, taking a defeated seat on his bed. Ron breathed a short sigh of relief, wanting nothing more than to be exited from this conversation.

Any thoughts of Draco were painful. They felt like being stung with the most poisonous, writhing, terrible venom in the wizarding world. Nothing hurt more than thinking of him, absolutely nothing. And, even in class, when Draco would make some random, failed attempt at communicating with him, at apologizing. Ron would leave or look away as fast as humanly possible. Because, well, he would rather have had nice memories of Draco in the past than disgusted ones in the future.

It didn't make much sense to him, but he just knew that Draco was to be avoided, and so, he did just that. He didn't look at him, didn't talk, he didn't even walk within his vicinity. And, he wasn't sure if it made him feel better or abobidably worse. "What, why?" Ron asked, feigning a look of concern.

He was concerned, and he wasn't. He didn't really know what to feel. "He said that he can't prosecute an innocent student over hearsay.' Can you believe that?"
"No, bloody hell mate.

I thought he would at least be surprised," Ron said, taking a seat across from him. Harry had that devious, scheming look that he had when a new plan had sprung into his mind. Ron didn't like it one bit. "And that's the weird part, he did seem surprised. But-I don't know . . . it almost looked like he was . . . expecting it."

Ron was genuinely shocked at what was coming out of Harry's mouth, and he couldn't help but stare at him with indignation. "Expecting it? You think Dumbledore knows that he's going to die? Are you listening to yourself?" Harry stared at him, his face lacking any smile or smirk.

"Think about it Ron, do you think he would have honestly chosen to believe a Malfoy over your story? You did see his father, right?"
"Yes I did, but-"
"Then but nothing, it makes perfect sense."
"Harry, have you gone bloody mad!? How would he know?

And why wouldn't he do anything to stop his own death?" Harry just looked at him for a moment, his face accusatory.
"You don't believe me?" He asked, clearly surprised by this.
"No, quite frankly I don't.