Jingle Bell, Ron

Part VII

Ron is pacing.

There's no way that just happened. He had to have been cursed. Jinxed. Something.

Did he seriously pout?

He groans into his hands. What even was that? He fakes sickness to leave class to find Blaise to question him—and he ends up in some domestic altercation? With him? With Blaise?

Ugh, and he got shy? Shy! Ron getting shy is not--no.

No.

No. It had to have been a figment of his imagination. There's no way—no. Ron is a man. He doesn't pout.

The dorm door clicks open and Harry's mop of curls peeks through, spotting Ron right away. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Fine," Ron sighs, although he actually feels sick to his stomach. "Just a bit nauseous, is all."

"Noted," Harry nods. "I was going to ask if you wanted to join us in helping the elves take down the Christmas decor. Hermione kind of got the elves wound up in this labor by hand thing and now they won't do it with magic."

"Is that why they're still up?"

"Yeah," he walks in toward his bed. "Someone complained about the mistletoe, but since the elves won't do it with magic, half the school's been asked to help."

"Wait, the mistletoe? What's wrong with it?"

"It's charmed, or something. Makes people act weird when they get caught in its field of magic, is what professor Sprout said."

Ron blinks.

"Right, well, I'll leave you to get better. We'll be back later."

He lets Harry leave with a wave, purses his lips, and then sighs. "Mistletoe, huh."

It doesn't take him long to decide to get up, and before he knows it he's back to the corridor where he left Blaise just a few hours ago.

He can see the mistletoe weaved into the garland on the walls. He doesn't feel any different, but that doesn't mean magic isn't involved in how he acted earlier with Blaise, or if it's taking affect right now.

His feet automatically stop him when he spots the mistletoe dangling a lot lower in the exact spot he ran away from just a few hours ago. He scowls.

"You know you're a lot more clever than people give you credit for."

Blaise's voice is an anticipated bother. Ron had a kindling that he would find him here, and he doesn't know if he feels proud that he was right or mad that...he was right.

"Though I must admit," Blaise pauses, he steps closer. "I thought it would have taken you just a bit longer."

"Did you know?" Ron swivels around, his eyebrows aggressively furrowing. "About the mistletoe?"

Ron's skin prickles when Blaise doesn't say anything, just stares. "No," he says finally. "I did not."

"Liar."

"I truly did not."

"Don't get near me," Ron says when Blaise takes a step closer. He reaches up and yanks the mistletoe from the garland. It fizzles out in his hand. "This is the only reason I acted like that earlier, do you hear me? If anyone else finds out I'll know it was you."

Blaise rolls his eyes. "Finds out about what, Weasley?"

"I'm not a bitch, alright?"

The magic around them twists uncomfortably when Blaise narrows his eyes. "I see."