A bright light stung Draco's eyes as he forced himself awake. The room he was in was nothing but a blurry, closed off box to his newly woken eyes. With a heavy sigh, he interlocked his fingers far ahead of him, slowly bringing them up above his head. He grunted quietly as the stiffness that was once in his shoulders left. The room slowly came into focus as he shifted himself to the edge of the bed.
The walls were wooden, they seemed to be planks. For a moment, he thought he'd been dragged to an old shed, but he tried to rethink the night. He remembered being too tired to walk, so he set his trunks down to sit for a while. He remembered feeling famished and exhausted when a pair of headlight turned his corner. Then the sky suddenly fell into view, then went black for a moment. The next second, awaking briefly, he was being dragged. Then he awoke again, for a moment, and saw a cloud. A cloud?
"How..." he mumbled, though unable to finish his thought. How did he see a cloud? How was he in this shack-like room? How hadn't he thought to steal food before he left?
"I just don't understand why we have to keep him here!" A voice yelled from beyond the door.
I recognize that... Draco thought, but couldn't place the voice. Slowly, he shifted out of the bed. His trunks were placed in the corner by the door, seeing them only made him realize that whoever picked him up had seen him dressed like this.
"At least they didn't try anything." He thought aloud, thinking of the events of only a few days prior. "Unlike that pig."
A woman's voice responded to the first boy, but he wasn't able to hear what her exact words were. He simply shook his head and forced one of the trunks onto the bed. Upon opening it, he found his school uniform and the clothes his father would force him to wear. With a sigh, he took off his cropped shirt and pulled on the black undershirt. Followed by the skirt for pants. The single suit he packed, one his father had most admired, was completely black and was going to be saved for an important occasion. Making what seemed like an entire family of people that he didn't have anything to do with the feminine clothes seemed important enough.
"Right. Wand, then leave." He declared to the empty room. He closed the trunk and picked it up by the handle. Taking a deep breath, he walked back to the corner and set his dunk down. Blindly fixing his hair as he walked to the door, he extended his hand to open it, but was caught off guard.
"Oh! If you're oh-so worried about him, I'll make sure he's still asleep!" It was the woman's voice again, but this time, he'd managed to place it instantly. It was a voice from a howler in second year. The voice of a very specific woman with a very specific family.
He jumped back and grabbed the handle of his trunk again, just to seem like he hadn't heard. The door swung open quickly, he snapped his head in the direction. He was right. In the doorway stood a short and stout woman with unmistakable red hair. Molly Weasley.
"Draco, dear." She said, disturbingly sweetly. A smile replaced the scowl it'd worn just a moment before. "I didn't hear you wake up. How are you?"
"About to leave." He said, finding no reason to lie. He knew full well that the his family and the Weasley's were possible the strongest rivals in the wizard if world. He picked his trunk up and turned back to Mrs. Weasley.
"Not without breakfast." Smile fading a little, she scolded him as though he were her child. "Arthur told me you haven't eaten in the last while."
"And how would he know something like that?" Draco shot, the words had put him on the defensive, though he couldn't tell why.
"Honestly, with how baggy your shirt is, I'm not surprised you're not dead." He felt stupid, not only for going on defence and not thinking about how skinny he'd gotten, but thinking about denying food.
"I doubt your family would appreciate me at the table." He said quietly, lowering his trunk to the floor.
"Well, they're off practicing quidditch, besides Ron, not feeling up to it." She said reassuringly, leaning back to look into the kitchen.
Taking a moment to process, Ron Weasley being there was worse than the rest of the family. Being raised with the words his father had said about them, he'd repeated them as insults directed mostly to the boy. Shame suddenly weighed him, like a brick in his stomach.
"Mrs. Weasley..." He started, knowing what he wanted to say. Looking up to meet her eyes, he was surprised to see her motherly smile, not the scowl he expected. "I'm not my father." He said, finally. "Or... I'm not going to try to be. Ever."
Her smile widened, showing her teeth. "Breakfast?" She asked, after a pause.
Draco couldn't help but feel himself smile too, it was much warmer here than back home.
"Please."
