Isolation

35. Water

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Draco flicked his wand to ignite the candles and the bundle of logs in the fireplace until the kitchen was illuminated with the amber of the flames. He tucked his wand back into his pocket, careful to keep the base just above the seam in case the occasion called for a spell or two, and then shifted his attention back to Weasley. His long-time rival looked like shit, and that was being generous.

Weasley seemed almost distorted; deathly pale with blood-red cracks in the whites of his eyes, and more haggard than usual, even by the infamous Weasley standards. His eyes were alive though, staring somewhere past Draco's head while his nostrils flared and his knuckles turned white. There was something else too; something that was a little off. Draco couldn't decide if it was in his posture or in his expression, but Weasley looked slightly unhinged and precarious.

"Leave," he spat suddenly. "Just go, and leave us alone."

Draco couldn't help but scoff. "Why would I do that? This is my cousin's house and she invited me-

"You didn't even think of Tonks as your cousin until it bloody suited you!"

"That's irrelevant," he retorted, deciding it was time to broach the inevitable and watch Weasley squirm. "Besides, I think Granger wants me here."

Draco saw an instant change in Weasley's stance at the mention of Hermione; the muscles in his face tightened, his breathing elevated, and something dark flashed in his eyes. It was so amusing to watch, to see him struggle with his words and fidget with agitation. Granger or no Granger, watching a weasel in distress would forever leave an appeasing sense of satisfaction in the well of his Slytherin gut.

"Come on, Weasley," said Draco provokingly. "Let's hear your shite insults and comebacks, or if you want to have a little cry, I'll happily observe-

"YOU DON'T DESERVE HER!" he blurted furiously, slamming his balled fist down on the table. "YOU DON'T! YOU DON'T BLOODY DESERVE HER!"

Draco didn't flinch despite the element of truth he found in that comment. "Neither do you."

"I deserve her more than you!" shouted Ron. "If you actually cared about her, you would let her be with someone else! Someone who actually gives a damn about her-

"Oh please, Weasley," he rolled his eyes. "If you think I'm going to be some wet Hufflepuff and give her up because of some pathetic moral bullshit, then you may have just beaten Longbottom in the dumb fuck race-

"You know she shouldn't be with you!" Ron accused. "You must've...I don't know, you must've tricked her-

"For fuck's sake, Weasley, if you had a brain you'd be dangerous. Granger's a big girl, and she can make her own decisions," he said, pausing to smirk. "And she decided she wanted me. Not you."

Ron sucked in a harsh breath through his bared teeth. "I was her first!" he yelled. "We are more than you think! We-

"I know. She told me," Draco replied calmly, smothering the stab of jealousy and relishing the shock on Weasley's face. "Although the fact that it was you makes the prospect questionable. You can barely use your wand, so I doubt you can even locate your dick."

Rage ignited Ron's cheeks with a red-hot flush, and he flipped the table on its side, removing that physical barrier between them and then stalking close enough to Draco that he could feel his incensed panting against his face. Draco straightened his back and lifted his chin to give himself more height, lowering his hand until his fingers grazed his wand. Just in case.

"You are sick," seethed Ron. "The things you have done-

"Take a fucking step back, Weasel," he interrupted, his tone low and menacing. "Now."