Poisoned Flowers - Ron Weasley x OC

Chapter 12

You sighed with relief. Though the pulsing was not nearly as bad as before, it felt nice for it to stop. You'd returned to the hospital wing only a few minutes ago, just as you were instructed to do every morning this week. Last night had drained you of any tears. An old wound was simply split, and you were left with an aching skull worse than before. The worst part, really, was the inevitable reminder of your fate.

"You should be all back to normal in a few day, dear. You can always come for more if you need it." Madam Pomfrey patted your shoulder.

"Thank you," you said softly, turning to leave. Transfiguration started in about an hour, and you'd really like to catch up on anything you were behind in.

You walked down the corridors, the light tap of your shoes and distant conversation accompanying your thoughts. You were embarrased, honestly. Breaking down in front of people was humiliating, degrading almost. You were sure that Ron didn't think the same. There wasn't really much reason to feel the way you did. He wouldn't judge you for this, right?

You sighed deeply.

"Tabitha!" came a voice from your right. You shuddered, looking in the direction it had come from. Goyle leaned on a doorway, Crabbe by his side. "Come here!"

You certainly didn't want to see them. Goyle was... really creepy sometimes.

Your feet remained soldered on the spot. "Why?" you said somewhat hoarsely. And why would you? They had no respect for you.

"Draco will be here any minute," he nodded. "Come here." Crabbe bit his lip with a smile.

"We're not friends, you and I." You shifted your stance, feeling slightly nervous. What did they want with you? To slut shame you?

"He'd want you here. Any minute he'll be back," he smiled grossly, and you looked across either side of the hall. Nobody was there. You should probably head to class...

It would be nice to see him again, though. You felt you should thank him another time. He had departed from you in a sense, a break, but he came back with no hesitation in your time of need. It would mean more to tell him what that meant to you while you had a clear mind.

"Okay," you said with soft uncertainty, stepping forwards and following Goyle into the empty room. It reminded you of the one you'd been caught with Draco in once before, except smaller. "What is it?"

They didn't respond.

Crabbe, short and fat, pulled an orange bottle from his jacket. Firewhiskey. He took a wincing swig. Goyle snatched it from him, doing the same.

"So, tell us," Crabbe began, "are you good? Y'know... In bed?"

It took you a few seconds to process what had just been said.

You blinked hard. "W-What?!"

A deep red painted your face.

"Malfoy refuses to tell us, but we can see," Goyle smiled as he explained for Crabbe. He took a step towards you, tall and thick frame looking upon your own. He pressed the bottle against your chest, and you grabbed it in automatic reaction. For a moment, his fingers lingered. They were slightly touching the fabric covering your breasts, and you stepped back, mouth hung agape. What? It was not hard to tell what he was implying, rather it was impossible to comprehend.

You caught your breath before finding air to talk. You suddenly felt very small and vunerable, as if they towered over you.

"D-Did Draco say that?! That's not true! I've never slept with him!" Your voice was high, alarmed. You hadn't even noticed that you'd taken the bottle. You refused to believe he would say that about you.