Basilisk

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or places etc. they all belong to J.K. Rowling and her people. I do not own Rugrats either!

A/N: The Tri-wizard Tournament still took place while they were in their fourth year. Although, Harry did not take part and Cedric wasn‘t killed, he in fact won the competition.

Chapter Three: Dress to impress

The last show of the tour was upon him and Ron had mixed feelings about the whole thing. In one respect, he was sad the tour was coming to and end; being on stage was where he felt most comfortable. On the other hand, he was glad to be going home. The tension on the tour bus had increased between Harry and him and Ron didn’t think he could take much more of it. Every time he saw Harry talking to Hermione, he felt jealous. Being in such close quarters with everyone was starting to annoy him and every little thing his friends did got on his nerves. By some miracle, Ron had managed to keep his temper and had not become extremely angry with any of them. He had managed this by avoiding everyone as best he could. He had hardly spoken to Harry since the day his mother had last called and he terribly missed the conversations they used to share.

Once the final show was over, Ron headed straight back to the tour bus, intending on sleeping through the whole journey home. Due to most of the tour staff being Muggles, the band couldn’t just Apparate home. Luckily, they weren’t playing to far away from London, were Ron shared a flat with Harry. Ron just hoped things wouldn’t still be weird when they arrived home. At least Hermione wouldn’t be there, he thought. He then immediately felt bad, Hermione was one of his best friends and he knew she would never do anything to hurt him, not intentionally anyway.

Two and half-hours after finishing the final show, Ron was crawling into his own bed, in his own bedroom, in his own flat. It felt great to be back in his own bed again and it wasn’t long before he was sleeping soundly.

Before he knew it, it was Saturday and Ron was awoken by the smell of bacon and eggs invading his senses. Still in his boxers, he padded into the small kitchen. Harry was stood with his back to the door, listening to some pop song Ron hadn’t heard before on the radio, as he tended to the frying pan. Ron stood in the kitchen doorway watching as Harry swayed his hips and sang along to the music. He longed to just go over there and wrap his arms around Harry, to dance with him.

After a few minutes, Harry picked the pan up off the stove and turned, almost jumping out of his skin when he noticed Ron standing there.

“Shit, Ron! Don’t so that!” Harry shrieked, just managing to keep hold of the frying pan.

“What?” Ron asked, desperately trying to keep an innocent look on his face and not burst out laughing at Harry.

“Just stand there, you frightened the shit out of me,” Harry replied, as he began to dish out eggs and bacon onto two plates.

“Sorry,” Ron said, although the smirk on his face clearly showed that the apology was not sincere.

The tense atmosphere that had formed between the two friends on tour could still be felt in the air, but since arriving home two days ago, both boys had made an effort to get along. Neither had brought up the subject as to why the hostility between them had occurred and Ron was grateful for this. He couldn’t tell Harry that he was in love with him, the other boy would freak and then there friendship really would be over. It felt good just hanging out with Harry again though; they hadn’t spent much time together over the lat week.

“Thanks,” Ron said, as Harry handed him a plate of food. He noticed that Harry had cooked his eggs just the way he liked them, with the yolk broken.

They sat in the living room to eat their breakfast, watching Muggle cartoons on the television. Ron had found a liking for Saturday morning cartoons one weekend a couple of years ago, when he had pulled an all-nighter one Friday, and cartoons had been the only thing on from about 6am onwards. Now he always tried to be up early on a Saturday morning to watch them, though he did have to admit that didn’t happen very often, Ron liked to sleep.

Harry sat at the opposite end of the sofa as the two boys began watching Rugrats. Every so often Ron would send a sideways glance in Harry’s direction. Each time the dark haired boy would have his eyes glued to the television. This happened a few times during the first half of the cartoon; however, on the fifth time it happened, Ron wasn’t the only one looking to the opposite side of the sofa. The sound of the television died out to nothing and all that could be heard was the subtle breathing of each boy. Emerald green eyes held his gaze and Ron was suddenly finding it hard to continue breathing. He averted his eyes and the world caught up with him with a smack. What had just happened? Neither boy said a word about the incident, and Ron quickly grabbed the empty plates, taking them into the kitchen. He didn’t want to return to the living room, so decided to wash and put away the plates, he would usually have just left them on the kitchen counter.

After clearing away the dishes, Ron retreated to his room. Opening his wardrobe, he tried to pick out something nice to wear for the date he had later that day. Most of his clothes, however, he had taken on tour with him and were currently sitting in the wash basket in the spare room. Flipping open his cell phone he hit the number four, which was speed dial for Draco.

“Hello,” Draco answered in his usual drawling tone.

“Draco? I need help! I have absolutely nothing to wear for my date. Will you come shopping will me and help me find something? Please?” Ron whined.

“Hello to you to,” he heard Draco mutter. “Sure, I guess I can do that. I fancy buying myself something new anyway. I’ll meet you in an hour at The Leaky Cauldron, okay?”

“Okay, see you,” replied Ron.

“Bye,” said Draco. Ron snapped shut his phone and, grabbing a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt, headed to the bathroom.

Three quarters of an hour later, Ron walked into the living room seizing his jacket off the coat rack.

“Are you going out?” Harry asked. It looked as if Harry hadn’t moved since Ron had left the room, for he was still sat in the exact same position.

“Yeah, I’m meeting Draco to go shopping. You’re welcome to join us if you like?” replied Ron, as he zipped up his black hooded jacket.

Harry shook his head, “Nah, think I’ll just stay here and watch cartoons.”

“Okay, well I’ll see you later,” Ron said. He picked up a handful of Floo Powder off the mantel, stepped into the fireplace and called, “The Leaky Cauldron.”

Looking around the dusky pub, Ron searched for any signs of white blond hair that could only belong to a Malfoy. Not spotting any, Ron bought himself a Butterbeer and took a seat at the back of the room. He preferred drinking in wizards’ pubs rather than Muggle ones, there was now too much risk of being noticed when out in the Muggle world and Ron had never been one for too much attention. The band had become very well known in the past two years and it wasn’t uncommon for it’s members to be stopped, or photographed, or even followed, when in Muggle London; or anywhere else Muggle in Britain.

Ron was half way through his drink, when Draco appeared, taking a seat opposite Ron at the table.

“Hi,” Ron greeted.

“Hi,” replied Draco. “So, where do you want to go for your clothes? Muggle London or Diagon Alley? Or we could go to both?”

“I don’t know. Both? I’m not really sure what type of clothes I should wear,” Ron said, as he downed the rest of his drink.

“Where are you going?” asked Draco.

“Some restaurant called, Laverne de Montmorency. Have you ever been their before?” replied Ron.

“Yes, that’s where I took ‘mione for our second year anniversary. It’s quite a posh place, so you’re going to need some new robes,” answered Draco.

Ron groaned. He didn’t do posh very well; he just hoped he didn’t make a fool of himself in front of Hunter.

The two boys set off, deciding they would go to Diagon Alley first, heading straight for Madam Malkin’s robes for all occasions.

“I won’t need dress robes, will I?” Ron asked, with a look of horror on his face. The last time he had worn dress robes was during the Yule Ball in the fourth year of Hogwarts and they had been the most hideous robes imaginable. “I swear that night mentally scarred me for life.” Draco chuckled as they neared the shop.

“Hello, dears, how may I help you?” Madame Malkin greeted them as they entered the shop, causing the bell above the door to jingle.

“Hello, Ron here needs some smart robes, he’s got a date tonight,” Draco replied, flashing a cheeky grin at Ron, who felt his cheeks turn a soft red colour.

“Well, dear, come on, onto the stand you go,” she smiled. Ron followed her orders, stepping up onto the small round platform that had a mirror surrounding one side. Draco took a seat behind the platform facing Ron.

“Any particular colours you would like, dear?” Madame Malkin asked.

“Black,” Ron quickly replied. Black was his favourite colour, one that he often wore, as he hated wearing anything else.

Draco sighed. “He wants to try something in blue,” he said. Madame Malkin nodded and wondered off between the racks of clothes.

“What did you do that for? You know I hate wearing anything but black,” Ron whined.

“Ron, both the jeans and the t-shirt you are wearing now are blue and the colour brings out your eyes. You do want to look good tonight, don’t you?” smirked Draco.

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but couldn’t think of a good come back. “Yes,” he mumbled.

“Then trust me,” replied Draco.

Madame Malkin soon returned using her wand to float a variety of robes, which she hung on an empty rack near the platform Ron was standing on.

The first set of robes she handed him were made of the softest silk fabric that Ron and ever felt and were midnight blue in colour. After slipping them on, Madame Malkin uttered a few spells, adjusting the length of the robes and making it a snug for around the chest area. Ron stared at himself in the mirror. The robes were beautiful and Draco was right, the blue did make his eyes stand out.

“They look fabulous, Ron,” Draco said.

The second pair were of robes that were handed to Ron were made of velvet and were a baby blue colour. When he had them on, he stared at himself in the mirror again. These robes didn’t make him feel anywhere near as nice as the first set had. The fabric felt rough against his skin and the thickness was making him feel rather warm. Ron also decided he didn’t like the colour of these robes; they were far to light for his liking. He scrunched up his nose.

“I liked the first ones better,” he said, pulling on the neck to try to cool himself down.

“Me too,” replied Draco.

Half an hour and four different robe types later, Ron and Draco finally left the shop. Ron had decided to purchase two sets of robes; the first ones he had tried on and a similar pair in black. He had had to whinge at Draco for at least ten minutes however, before the blond had allowed him to buy the black set. He had also had to promise he would wear the blue robes for his date and not chicken out and opt for the black ones.

After browsing through Diagon Alley and finding nothing worth buying, the two friends headed to Muggle London. Ron wished he had brought a hat with him and hoped any groups of fans, or worse, paparazzi did not hound them.

Having both grown up in pureblood wizard families, it had taken Ron and Draco awhile to adjust to the many Muggle customs. However, both boys had discovered many things in the Muggle world that they now could not live without, for example their mobile phones.

Ron and Draco spent the next two hours looking around the shops of Muggle London. Ron bought a couple of new t-shirt supporting the names of Muggle bands that he liked and Draco bought himself a new pair of jeans and a small pair of diamond earrings for Hermione. Passing a small side street café, the boys decided to get some lunch and rest their aching feet. They placed their orders at the counter as they entered the café and took a seat in the back corner of the room. The place looked like a typical back street café, with red and white checked tablecloths and a piece of see through plastic over the top, so that if anyone was to spill something it could be easily wiped away instead of staining the fabric.

“I’m glad you asked me to come shopping today, Ron, because I really wanted to talk… well ask you something,” Draco said.

Ron felt his stomach lurch at the serious expression on Draco’s face. “Sure, is everything okay?” he asked, worry creeping into his voice.

“Yeah, everything is fine. It’s just… well you’re Hermione’s best friend, right?” Draco replied.

“Right, both me and Harry are,” Ron said. Draco’s seriousness was unnerving him slightly.

“Well, what do you think she would say if I asked her to marry me?” Draco said, so fast that Ron only just caught what he had said.

Ron was shocked. Of all the things Draco could have asked him that was not what he most expected. “I don’t know, I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Ron replied. He noticed Draco’s face drop and added, “I know that she loves you, and that you make her happy. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen ’mione as happy as she is when she is with you. I don’t think she’ll turn you down if you ask.”

Draco smiled, “I love her too, very much. She makes me feel like I’m the luckiest guy on the world. What am I on about? I am the luckiest guy in the world. So we’d have your blessing, if she says yes, to get married. I mean, I know Hermione sees you as a brother and your opinion is very important to her, it is to me too. I wanted to make sure you were okay with me asking her.”

“Draco, of course I’m okay with it. Whatever would give you the idea that I wouldn’t be? Nothing would make me happier that to see you two get married; you’re perfect for each other. Just… look after her,” Ron replied.

“I will, I promise,” Draco said, as the waitress came over with their meals and they began eating.

“So, have you got her a ring?” Ron asked, tucking into his steak and kidney pie. Draco nodded, pulling a little black box out of the inside pocket of the jacket he was wearing.

“My grandmother gave to me before she died. She told me I was to give it to the person I wanted to spend my life with, the one who made me happy.” Draco explained. Ron stared at the ring; it was beautiful. It was made of white gold and had a beautifully crafted diamond on it, with green and silver flecks around the edge.

“Think she’ll like it?” Draco asked, frowning as a noisy bunch of teenagers entered the café, disturbing the peace.

“Of course she will. It’s beautiful,” Ron answered, totally oblivious to the teenagers who were now staring at the two. “When are you going to ask her?”

“I don’t know… soon. I thought I might take her out and ask while we’re in a nice restaurant, but then I thought it would be more romantic if I cooked for her and asked her at home,” Draco said, his frown deepening.

“Do it at home, I think…” Ron trailed off, looking up at the three teenagers, two girls and a boy, who had just approached their table.

“Urm…” one of the girls began, her cheeks blushing a dark red colour which blended in with her auburn coloured hair. “Me and my friends were wondering if you would sign this…please?” she asked, holding out a piece of paper and a pen.

“Sure,” Draco smiled, taking the pen and paper and beginning to sign his name. Ron did the same once Draco was finished and three teenagers thanked them, leaving them to finish their lunch. Ron was hoping that would be the only time they were approached today, but realised he had thought to soon when he heard a squeal.

“Oh my god, its Ron and Draco from Basilisk,” came from the other side of the café as a teenage girl dragged a boy, who appeared to be her boyfriend, across to their table.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it’s really you,” she said, a beaming smile on her face. “We came to see your concert last week, it was totally awesome.”

“Thanks, I‘m glad you enjoyed it,” Draco answered. Ron just smiled at the girl, not knowing what to say. He still didn’t know how he could get up on stage in front of thousands of people and play his guitar, when he couldn’t talk to any of the fans face to face.

“Would you mind if I asked for your autograph?” she asked, searching in her bag for some paper.

“Of course not. Would we, Ron?” Draco replied, sending Ron a ‘bloody well speak’ look.

“No, of course we don‘t mind,” Ron smiled, taking the paper and pen off the girl and repeating the process of writing his name, before passing it over to Draco.

“Thank you, so much,” she said, excitedly, as Draco handed it back to her. She stared at the paper as she and her boyfriend walked towards the counter.

“Two years and you still can’t talk to fans, Ron.” Draco said, shaking his head and laughing.

“It’s not funny, Draco. I always think I’m going to make an arse of myself,” he replied.

“You make an arse of yourself by not saying anything,” Draco countered. “Come on, let’s get going.”

They paid for their meals and left the café, waving at the girl and her boyfriend who were now sat at a table waiting for their food. The decided their next port of call was the music store further down the street. Ironically, when they got there one of their songs from their latest album was blaring out of the large speakers within the crowded store. Harry’s voice washed over Ron and he realised he hadn’t thought about the other boy for most of the day. The shopping trip had been a good idea, apart from having new robes for his date; Ron had managed to get his thoughts off the mind-boggling subject that was Harry. Now however, standing in the store listening to Harry’s voice, the subject was creeping back into his mind. ‘How is Harry going to take the news about Draco asking Hermione to marry him?’ Ron thought.

Draco’s voice invaded his thoughts. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“What? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Ron replied, smiling at Draco, who gave him a dubious look before dragging him over to the DVD section. Draco had found a liking for watching films since he discovered the television and to everyone’s surprise had become an obsessive fan of any type of romantic film. Everyone had assumed he would have liked horror films best, but soon discovered that Draco hated these with a passion and would only watch them when forced, providing he had a pillow, or Hermione, to hide behind.

They spent another hour trolling through shops, stopping occasionally to sign autographs for fans. Once they had had enough, they made their way back to The Leaky Cauldron and flooed home.

When Ron entered the living room, he was surprised to find it empty, in fact the whole flat felt empty. He called out for Harry a few times and, getting no reply, figured the other boy must have gone out.

Dumping his bags in the sofa, Ron began to shuffle through the post that was left on the coffee table. Seeing that there was only bills and junk mail, he took his new purchases into the bedroom. Laying out the two sets of robes on his bed, Ron tried to decide which ones he was going to wear. He had promised Draco he would wear the blue, and they did bring out his eyes, but he knew he would feel more comfortable in the black.

Ron spent the next few hours idly wondering about the flat. He couldn’t find anything to do and his nerves about the date were starting to make him feel queasy. When 4.30 finally strolled around, Ron hopped into the shower, taking his time to wash himself and thoroughly shampoo his hair. After showing and spelling himself and his hair clean, Ron spent the next twenty minutes trying to style his mop, but nothing was working out right. When he had finally tamed his red locks into something at least half-presentable, he briefly contemplated wearing eyeliner, however, decided against it. He was going to a posh restaurant, not the local mosh pit.

Once back in his bedroom he stared at the robes that were still lying on his bed. With a sigh, he pulled the midnight blue ones over his head, feeling the glossy silk caress his skin. When he was dressed and ready to go, he headed into the living to get his phone and wallet. Just as he entered the room, the fireplace roared as green flames appeared and Harry popped out, stopping dead when he caught sight of Ron.

Harry cleared his throat. “Wow, Ron, you look… wow,” Harry breathed.

“Thanks, Harry,” Ron smiled, tucking his belongings into his pocket. “Well, I’m off. I’ll see you later,” Ron said.

“Have a good time.”

Ron just caught Harry’s sombre tone, as he Apparated away.