Mismatch

See Part I for Summary and Disclaimers

‘I am doomed,’ Ron thought. He sat silently biting his nails while Professor Dumbledore shifted through some papers on his desk. Professor McGonagall sat to Ron’s immediate right, while Draco sat with Professor Snape to his left.

Poppy Pomfrey stood beside the Headmaster, tutting and shaking her head; her cheeks were flushed with anger.

“Headmaster, this is a situation that relates directly to the health and welfare of a student. I should have been informed directly,” she said, bristling a bit while glaring at Snape. “The very idea of giving an abortion potion without the benefit and support of a trained medi-witch is unthinkable,” she continued.

Snape gave the nurse a sour look.

“If I might point out, Headmaster, both Malfoy and Weasley are of age and as such are under no obligation of discussing their personal lives with a school nurse,” said Professor Snape with an air of contempt.

The Headmaster pinned Snape with a hard look.

“Nonetheless, Severus, and much to my consternation, we are involved. This accident occurred while Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley were attending classes and under our supervision,” Dumbledore said dryly.

“The school can hardly be held liable for Longbottom being a total disaster at potions,” snarled Severus.

Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat in a noisy fashion.

“Headmaster, I believe that we can leave the discussion of how this occurred until a later date, the question now is what are we to do? Shouldn’t their parents be informed of the situation?” she asked.

Dumbledore appeared to hesitate, almost as if he were awaiting a cue.

“No!” said Draco emphatically.

The Professors all turned their attention to Draco. Ron stopped chewing at his fingernails and warily watched Malfoy, for even without his wand he was still quite capable of being dangerous.

“As Professor Snape said, I am now sixteen and by wizarding law able to make such decisions myself, and I don’t want my parents informed. That is my right,” Draco said, snapping his jaw shut.

“But, my dear, such an important decision should be discussed with your family,” began Poppy.

Draco irritably shook himself.

“I already know what my parents would say, I’m just not sure I’m in agreement. I want a few days to think things through,” said Draco, beginning to feel the twinges of a bad headache coming on.

Poppy again broke into the conversation.

“Fine, just remember that if you do decide to use the Keelium Potion, it must be done within a fortnight of conception, otherwise it’s too dangerous to use. And, Professor Dumbledore, I must insist that Mr. Malfoy place himself under my care should he choose to terminate this pregnancy,” she said firmly. “He will need to be monitored closely following the aistristration of the potion to ensure there are no complications.”

The Headmaster looked keenly first at Draco and then at Ron.

“Agreed. Is that acceptable, Mr. Malfoy?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, fine. Can I go now? I’ve developed a headache,” said Draco with his face scrunched up in pain.

“Yes, you are dismissed,” he said gently.

Draco and Ron stood up.

“And what about my wand, sir? When can I get it back?” Draco asked in a petulant tone.

“When you can prove that you adult enough to be entrusted with it,” said the Headmaster in a cool voice.

Malfoy directed an outraged look towards his Head of House. Snape’s expression was bland.

“And, fair warning, Mr. Malfoy, if I ever see such a display again in the school corridors with such reckless disregard for the o stu students safety I will have you expelled, no questions asked,” said Dumbledore with a hard look.

“Yes, sir,” Draco said sullenly.

Ron followed closely on Draco’s heels as he left the office.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco hurried towards the Slytherin Common Room in the dungeons. How was he to explain his outburst earlier? Crabbe and Goyle weren’t a problem, but Pansy, Blaise and the rest of the Slytherin sixth form wouldn’t be so easy to fool.

The last thing he needed would be for any of them to get their hands on the information about his pregnancy, no matter how temporary. Blackmail was almost second nature to most of the Slytherin children by the time they reached their majority, and he was sure someone would try to take advantage of it should they get wind of it.

Thoughts of his reputation in tatters made Draco shudder. He would be looked down upon by all of his classmates were it to come to light that he’d been shagged by a Weasley and was, even now, up the duff.

Draco felt, rather than heard, Weasley close behind him. Damn that stupid Weasel. Didn’t he ever give up? What did he think he was accomplishing?

Draco whirled and Ron almost ran into him.

“What do you think you are doing?” snarled Draco.

Draco looked at Ron surreptitiously from under his lashes. Ron’s face was flushed and his blue eyes were flashing, he’d grown some over the summer and now stood several inches taller than Draco. In fact, if it weren’t for those hideous, tatty robes, he might even be considered good-looking.

Ron’s face took on a mulish expression, which, if Hermione and Harry had been here, would have indicated Ron wasn’t about to be pushed away.

“We need to talk, Malfoy,” Ron said.

“We have nothing to discuss, Weasel, take your skinny freckled ass back to Gryffindor Tower,” hissed Draco.

Ron looked at Malfoy. He looked angrier than he had ever seen him. ‘Well, he does have a right,’ thought Ron. ‘It’s not every day that you face being pregnant, unmarried, and just happen to hate the baby’s father.’

Ron squared his shoulders.

“Look, I know you’re upset, but…” he started to say.

“UPSET? UPSET? You have no idea how I feel,” ground out Draco. “If I had my wand here you’d be under crucio so fast your head would spin.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands off me,” spat out Ron. “You were pretty eager to wrap yourself around me once you had the chance,” he said, getting angry in turn.

Draco started to sputter.

“You pig! You know I was under the influence of a love potion, otherwise I’d never have touched you!” Draco said in a breathless fashion.

“Right, oh right, that’s why you were screaming “harder, harder!” Face it, Malfoy, you’re a born slut!” snarled Ron.

Draco lunged for Ron. He grabbed his hair and attempted to rip every single red hair out of his head. Ron shoved Draco hard up against the wall. The breath whooshed out of Draco.

Draco attempted to gouge Ron’s eyes out while Ron slapped away his hands.

“You even fight like a girl,” said Ron sneering, throwing down the gauntlet with the ultimate male insult.

Draco started to curse in several different languages; he was going to kill the Weasel if he had to use his bare hands to do it.

As they continued to grunt, flail and curse, Ron moved in closer to Draco so that he was pressing him up against the wall. To Ron’s horror, he felt himself growing hard, and tried to detach from Malfoy before he was found out.

Gasping, Ron tried to push away from Malfoy but Draco bit his shoulder as he attempted to pull away. Ron growled deep in his chest and then smashed his mouth into Draco’s.

Draco froze as Ron’s mouth covered his own. He tried to bite Ron but that only served to excite him even more. Ron forced Draco’s mouth open and pushed his tongue inside.

Draco felt hot and cold all over and then moaned deeply. His arms went around Ron’s neck as Ron gripped his buttocks and pulled Draco closer.

Ron mapped out his mouth diligently and sucked lightly on Draco’s tongue. Draco’s hips bucked into Ron’s and Draco could feel his cock lengthening and filling. Some part of Draco was screaming in protest but his body had disengaged from his brain.

Distantly, Ron heard voices. Seconds later he was kneed painfully in the groin.

“Aiihhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” screamed Ron, writhing around on the dungeon corridor floor.

Draco hastily pulled his robes together as several of the third year Slytherins turned thener.ner.

“Bastard!” he spat at Ron.

Draco glared at the group young Slytherins who were now gaping at him.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he growled at them, heading for the portrait opening.

Ron lay on the floor, curled up in a fetal position, gasping in pain and hoping for a stray Avada Kedavra to put an end to his misery. He finally crawled on his hands and knees to the corner of the corridor nearest the portrait and threw up in front of it.

Ron lay against the cool wall of the dungeon corridor and took his wand out of his pocket to utter a simple cleansing spell. There, at least his mouth felt clean again. As his brain started to slowly fire up its synapses again, he wondered why on earth he’d pushed Draco so hard.

Ron groaned. He’d wanted to talk to Malfoy, just talk, and instead he’d ended up pissing him off even more. Leave it to him to make an even bigger hash of things. He staggered to his feet and lurched his way back to the stairs and crawled painfully towards the Gryffindor Tower. He’d have to find a way to apologize. He wondered if Malfoy liked flowers.

TBC