Draco has to be up to something. He is acting too nice, too happy, too not-murdery-intentish.
Malfoy had stayed a second night at the Burrow, though he ate away from the rest of the family. Of course, this is what Ron found suspicious. Mrs. Weasley had stood up for the blonde boy, saying that he didn't feel comfortable eating at the table with everyone; yet he had such confidence walking onto the field.
Draco strode out the door with the same confidence near noon. Still in the torn dress pants, but in a white undershirt this time around.
"Yeah, I'll meet up with you guys in a second. I gotta use the loo." Ron said, waving to his older twin brothers before bolting upstairs. He waited patiently, out of sight, to hear the voices of everyone drift out into the playing field before sneaking back down.
He made sure to avoid the line of vision of his mom, who was in the kitchen at the time, while quietly turning the doorknob to the spare room. Making sure to close the door behind him just as quietly, he turned and looked around the room. The two trunks Malfoy carried were in the corner of the room, a potions book opened on top of one.
"Bingo." Ron whispered, moving across the room and grabbing one of the trunks, throwing it on the bed. It took a moment to get it open, but after a quick glance, it was only things for school. Huffing, he closed it and picked up the other case, not caring about the book on top.
"You've gotta have something-" Spitting through clenched teeth, he opened the lid as fast as he could.
He froze.
"Bloody hell..." Weasley whispered, barely even audible. "Wasn't expecting that kind of something..."
