'Well,' said Ron, 'I hadn't worked that bit out yet, but — '
'This,' said Draco, 'is why you should let me do the planning.'
'You?' said Ron, standing up and glaring at him.
'I'm the one in Slytherin,' said Draco coolly, standing up as well and returning the glare. 'I'm the shrewd, underhanded one. I come up with the cunning plans around here, not you. You wouldn't know a cunning plan if it painted itself blue and danced naked on a harpsichord singing 'Cunning plans are here again'!'
'That is not true!' yelled Ron, losing his head somewhat. 'I have come up with very cunning plans!'
'You're in Gryffindor!' sneered Draco. 'Your idea of a cunning plan is 'Everybody on the count of three'!'
Ron lunged at Draco — just as Harry stepped between them. Ron collided with Harry, knocking him into the stove and bruising his own elbow in the process. A number of pots and pans clattered to the floor, and the mirror that hung over the stove shouted 'Watch what you're doing, clumsy!'
Ron rubbed his bruised elbow. 'Damn it, Harry,' he said wrathfully.
'Why'd you do that?'
Harry stood up, looking furious. 'All right, Ron. We need to talk.
Outside. Now.'
Still rubbing his elbow, Ron followed Harry out into the dark garden, leaving Ginny and Draco standing alone in the kitchen, looking nonplussed. Harry and Ron had walked about ten feet from the house when Harry whirled around and said angrily, 'What the hell is up with you, Ron, letting Malfoy get to you like that? You know he's just trying to annoy you! He probably doesn't even have a plan!'
'What the hell is up with me?' Ron demanded. Usually when he was angry he flushed as red as his hair, but he seemed to have passed beyond mere anger into a livid state of fury in which each freckle stood out on his white face like an inkblot. 'What the hell is up with you, Harry? Did I give you permission to bring Malfoy to my house?
Did I? You know what his father did to my father! You know how my family feels about the Malfoys! What do you think my parents would say if they knew he was here?'
Some of the color had drained out of Harry's face. 'Ron, I didn't think-'
'Yeah, that's just it, you didn't think! You don't ever think any more!
What's happened to you, Harry?'
'Other than my girlfriend running off with a seven-foot Bulgarian Quidditch player?'
Ron threw up his hands. 'Don't even try to pass this off on Hermione running away,' he snapped. He was positively shaking with anger. 'You show up here, all buddy-buddy with Malfoy, 'Oh, Malfoy's my roommate, Malfoy's my bestest friend, Malfoy's gonna be my brother, Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy.' And you know what kind of person he is!'
'He saved my life,' said Harry.
'He just saved your life to get in Hermione's pants,' said Ron in a cold voice.
'Didn't work,' replied Harry, trying to grin.
'You don't know that,' said Ron flatly.
Harry's grin disappeared. 'That's not funny.'
'I'm not trying to be funny!' yelled Ron. 'I'm trying to make you wake up and see sense! He's not your friend!'
'I know,' said Harry.
Ron paused and looked at him in surprise.
'He's not my friend,' said Harry. 'I don't know what he is. I do know that I can trust him, at least where Hermione's concerned. And where I'm concerned. He was willing to die for me. You can't say that about a lot of people.' Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was already standing up in an alarmingly Gothic manner. 'You're my best friend,' he said. 'You know why? Because I chose you to be my friend. I didn't choose to have Malfoy in my life, but he is and not much I can do about it.'
Some of the anger had faded out of Ron's expression. He looked tired now, leaning against the side of the house with his left hand cradling his bruised elbow. 'I just don't get where Malfoy's trustworthy.'
'Two reasons,' said Harry. 'One: Hermione loves him and as we all know, she is not stupid.'
'You're losing me again,' said Ron. 'Why is it okay that Hermione loves him?'
'I said she loved him, I didn't say she was in love with him. She loves you, too, if it comes down to that, and I'm not beating the crap out of you, am I?'
Ron sighed. 'You're either hugely self-confident or woefully deluded,' he said, 'and I'm not sure which.'
'The second reason,' said Harry, holding up a finger, 'and the most important…' He pulled his jacket open, unzipped an inside pocket, and took out a very battered object, which he handed to Ron.
Ron stared. 'The Sneakoscope….the one I bought for you in Cairo! I didn't even know you still had it.'
Harry was smiling. 'It never goes off when Malfoy's around,' he said. 'Ergo…he's trustworthy.'
'Ergo….it's broken,' said Ron, but smiled grudgingly back.
'Nuh-uh,' said Harry. 'It's gone off a couple other times. When Malfoy and I were talking to Lupin; and I'm pretty sure there was stuff he wasn't telling us.'
'Really?' said Ron, interested. 'Like what?'
'Well, different things. And when we went into his office he shoved his copy of the Daily Prophet into his
