Meeting After a Long Absence
By BeckyTiger

Now, people who live on a steady diet of trashy novels (with lurid covers that Playboy would consider unsubtle), might think that when you see someone for the first time after a long absence, you either fling yourself into their waiting arms after running toward each other with a background of sobbing violins, or you discover that your mental development stopped at the age of seven and start flinging insults at one another. Readers of this type will be pleased to hear that Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy definitely tend toward the second type; and, of course, that means repressed sexual tension, doesn't it?

Not that you would think so from their first meeting in the Great Hall...

Ron ached all over. He had just had a tiring day- his first as Hogwart's temporary groundskeeper while Hagrid took time off for some formal study. At first, the thought of Hagrid squeezing into a desk at a summer course at Steeple College was amusing, but when Ron saw the list of things he had to do, he felt less amused and wondered why on earth he has agreed to take this job.

It was dinnertime, and Ron was predictably punctual; his rumbling stomach saw to that. He had spent his first day out with Fang; repairing a fence, tending a sick unicorn, tracking down an errant flock of imps that were causing mayhem in the greenhouses and collecting some water weeds from inside the Forbidden Forest for Professor Snape, who had actually smiled quite politely and said thank you. Ron speculated that the War had done some irreparable damage to the Potion's master, but accepted the thanks as gracefully as he could, given his shock. He felt he deserved the thanks, too, as the collection had been hampered by the remnants of the flock of imps. For three-inch high wisps of smoke and sinew, they were pretty destructive little beasts. Tomorrow he had a meeting with the centaurs, but the rest of his day would be equally, brutally, as active as his first day had been. He loved this kind of work, though, and was pleased that Dumbledore had offered the job to him.

Over the summer the tables were reduced to just the teachers' table, and Ron cheerfully sat next to Flitwick and chatted about times past. Flitwick had just offered to teach him a very useful charm for navigation in the denser parts of the forest, when the doors opened and Dumbledore walked in with a small blond figure next to him. Ron didn't pay much attention as he gratefully accepted Flitwick's offer, until the pair were right at the table. Then Dumbledore speaks:

"Ah, Draco, here we are. You¡¯ll be working with Flitwick, so just have a seat next to him and Ron, and I will show you to your rooms right after dinner."

Ron's eyes ran over Draco Malfoy. He was still small, still blond, and still, as he turned towards Ron as Flitwick reintroduced them, sneering. He looked Ron up and down, listening to Flitwick explain that Ron had taken over as groundskeeper for the summer.

"Well, Weasley, I remember telling you that you had an ambition to take on menial tasks. I suppose it's a step up for your family, though, isn't it?"

Ron flushed. He hadn't seen Draco in about five years: since the war ended, in fact. They had been hesitantly civil to each other then, and this malice shocked him almost as much as the appearance of Draco out of the blue had. He fell back on reflexive nastiness.

"Really, Malfoy? Am I to guess from your current occupation that you are so stupid you can't even manage the Malfoy fortune, and are now destitute? What a come down- and I don't have any memory of you telling me any such thing. I guess you remember me much more clearly, but I have other things to think about."

Draco turned red, but Flitwick interrupted with a jolly laugh, and soon Ron was immersed in a conversation with Sinistra, sitting on his other side, about the astrological patterns in use in Central Asia and how they compare to European ones as an indicator of cultural interests. Dinner was great, as usual, and Ron ate hungrily. He felt Draco's eyes on him occasionally, but shrugged it off as best he could. It was useless to expect that Draco had changed. The near normalcy that had existed between them during the last days of the War, when Draco had been transferred from Information to Strategy, had disappeared, and Ron was surprised by how disappointed he felt. He guessed that Draco had simply felt the pressure of the War, when the outcome had been too close to call, when every moment they were alive and undetected by Voldemort's forces was a bonus, when staying sane as one's friends and family were in danger was difficult. In the few delicate months they had worked together the hatred of their school days, only two years before, though it felt like a lifetime, had seemed gone. At least to Ron. Clearly Draco had only been marking time.

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