An Ideal Death-Eater

"Charlie!" Ginny squealed as she threw herself at the redheaded man walking through the front door.

"There's my little smoke puff!"

The rest of the Weasleys hung back when Ginny's feet went flying as she was swung up into the air. "I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you, too." Charlie suddenly grinned. "Come over here, Ron, and give us a squeeze."

"That's okay, I don't feel like getting clocked in the face by Ginny's feet."

Charlie put her down and stomped over to give Ron a bear hug. The fact that he was now several inches shorter than his baby brother didn‘t seem to faze him in the slightest. "Aww what's the matter? Is ickle Ronnikins too grown up to hug his big brother?"

"No, I just can't breathe is all," Ron managed to choke out.

"Eh, you're a tough little chap."

"Little?!"

Ron was dropped and exchanged for Mr and Mrs Weasley. "So what are you making for tea, Mum?"

Molly hauled back and smacked Charlie on the head. "In the house less than five minutes and all you can say is ‘what's for tea'?"

"Sorry, Mum," Charlie rubbed his temple and grinned ruefully. "Harry! Good to see you."

Harry crept backwards, attempting to avoid the seeking arms. Fortunately for him, Charlie settled on a handshake and a dizzying blow to the back.

"Don't kill the poor boy, Charlie," Mrs Weasley admonished.

"He can take it, can't you Harry?"

Harry only nodded and sat down on the couch. Charlie was soon next to him and Ginny settled herself on her brother's lap.

"Tell us about the dragons, Charlie. I want to hear all the news."

Ron groaned. "Ginny is the one you should have smacked, Mum. I don‘t think I can handle another lively discussion on the differences between the horns of a male and female Gre— "

"Ronald! Our brother can talk about whatever makes him happy. I don't tear out my hair every time I hear you talk about the Chudley Cannons do I?"

"But that's Quidditch. You like Quidditch!" Ron was feeling offended and would soon be so mired in his childhood habits that it would be impossible to talk with him.

"Come on, be nice and stop arguing with everybody. Your brother is home now." Harry felt it was his duty to pull Ron out of his infantile behaviour before it got out of hand.

"That doesn't mean that Ron will stop acting like a baby. In fact, he usually acts like more of a baby when the big boys are here," Ginny interjected in a mischievous tone.

"Do not," Ron pouted.

"See?" she pointed out, bouncing on Charlie's lap with glee.

"Enough, you two. It's time for tea, your Mum says." The normally quiet Mr Weasley raised his voice enough to be heard and there was a stampede as the four young adults raced each other to the kitchen and the wonders it contained.

*~*~*~*~*

"That was your best meal ever, Mrs Weasley," Harry sighed, rubbing his contented belly.

"Yeah, Mum. That was great!"

"It was only steak and chips with a bit of egg. Nothing fancy really." Molly blushed at the complement and sipped her tea. "More eggs, Charlie?"

Charlie waved his one hand while resting the other on top of his solid stomach. "No, I'm all right."

"Harry?"

"Uh uh, I think I was still full from earlier."

Ginny stood up from the table and started clearing away the dishes. "After I do these, I think I'll take a bath and go to bed. I'm awfully tired for some reason."

"You do that dear, I'll help you."

Mrs Weasley rose from her chair and followed Ginny over to the sink. Ron leaned over to Harry and whispered. "Wanna play chess for a bit?"

"Sure. But why are we whispering?"

Ron shrugged as he looked out the window at the first snow of the season. "Don't know. Let's play in front of the fire though, it's nippy tonight."

Harry agreed and soon they were involved in the match to end all matches. Ron actually looked confused for a moment when he realised that Harry had put his king in check so quickly.

"How did you do that?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes.

Harry shrugged. "Don't know; it just seemed like the thing to do."

"Hmmn, better watch my game from now on. Next thing I know, you'll have my queen," he muttered to himself, not really paying attention to the board. "Knight to D5."

The knight moved up and over one space to the right obediently. It was only after a moment that Ron realised his mistake and flushed. Harry grinned good-naturedly as he ordered his bishop diagonally to capture the black queen. She screamed something profane at Ron before she was swept off of the board.

"You were saying?"

Ron gritted his teeth. It was only chess, nothing to get upset over, he told himself. But his inner voice was hollow and the words didn't sink in completely. "Rook to A4."

The game went on for a while longer before Ron smiled triumphantly. "Checkmate."

Harry sighed and flipped his king over on its side. "Well done, Ron."

"Thanks, Harry. You may have captured my queen, but I won the game."

"No need to be smug about it," Harry groused. He had the odd feeling that Ron wasn't referring to just chess with his last statement. Ron grinned though and the suspicion melted away.

"Sorry, Harry. Just got carried off with it is all."

"Quite all right."

"Oi, you fellows! Mum's made cocoa so come into the kitchen," Charlie shouted to them from the doorway.

Harry smiled and stood up from the floor, offering out a hand to help Ron up but he waved it away.

"You go ahead, I'm going to clean up first."

Harry shrugged. "If you say so. Want me to bring you some back?"

Ron shook his head and Harry walked off towards the brightly-lit kitchen. The fireplace in front of Ron was mostly embers now, but he stared into it as if it held all the secrets of the world.

*~*~*~*~*

"Where's Ron at, love?" Mrs Weasley asked Harry, her eyebrows raised in concern when he walked into the kitchen alone.

"Oh, he said he's going to clean up first and then he'll be along."

Molly studied Harry carefully before going back to her cocoa. "There are biscuits here if you want them. Just chat with us for awhile, you've been at school all year and we didn't get to see you for very long this summer."

"All right, though there isn't much to tell, it's been a fairly dull year so far. Except for Hermione and Ginny taking falls out on the Quidditch pitch, of course."'

Arthur shook his head sadly. "I'm only glad that the girls weren't more seriously injured. Is poor Hermione still laid up in the Infirmary?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, but she should be able to come to the Burrow in a few days or so."

"That's good. I was so worried about her when Ginny and Ron sent me that owl."

Molly sniffled and Arthur leaned over to cover her hand in his own. "She'll be all right, Moll. Don't worry about that one, she's tough as dragonhide even if she is just a little girl."

"I'm convinced that this is the year of the falling Weasleys," Charlie added to the conversation. "Why just last week I fell off of the Opaleye we're trying to break into saddle."

Harry's eyes widened. "You've an Opaleye out there?"

Charlie didn't get a chance to answer though as he was thumped soundly by his mother. "Why didn't you tell me that you fell off of a dragon? And what were you doing trying to saddle one in the first place? You know they don't take well to riders."

"Mum, I didn't think— " Charlie was saved from having to explain this to his mother by the sound of a tremendous crash from upstairs. It took only a minute for the four to glance at each other in question before they all took off running up the stairs to the top floor behind Ron who had been closer.

"Ginny?" Mr Weasley shouted. "Ginny, are you all right?"

A door opened at the end of the upstairs hall and the sleepy red-haired girl rubbed a hand over her eyes. "What's going on?"

"Oh thank heavens!" Mrs Weasley shouted and clasped her baby close.

"Mum, I'm fine. But what was that noise?"

During this time, the boys had all been creeping toward the bathroom with their wands drawn and followed by Mr Weasley. He stopped them before they were able to open the door.

"If there is something dangerous in there, I had better go first," he said quietly. Charlie nodded and pushed Ron and Harry behind him with Ginny and Mrs Weasley peering around from back of them.

Carefully, Mr Weasley turned the knob on the bathroom door and creaked it open enough for him to see inside. He stood there for a moment, blocking the path before pushing the door all the way against the wall.

"A boy has fallen through our roof, Molly." Arthur tilted his head to the side in puzzlement as Mrs Weasley pushed him out of the way to see for herself.

"Sweet Merlin! It is a boy!"

Harry was able to peek over Mr Weasley's shoulder just enough to make out Draco Malfoy's still form lying on the tiled floor.

Mrs Weasley stood there blinking for a moment before she seemed to come to herself again. "Arthur, Charlie, pick him up and take him down to the second landing. Put him in Percy's room. Ginny, you come with me."

She was about to make her way downstairs when Ron stopped her. "Mum, do you know who that is? That's Draco Malfoy!"

Mrs Weasley turned on her son, fire in her eyes. "I don't care if it is You-Know-Who! He's obviously hurt and needs my help."

"But Mum— "

"No, not another word. He came into my home for one reason or another and if you don't want to help then go to your room."

Ron narrowed his eyes and sullenly huffed down the hall, slamming his door. Mrs Weasley humphed and dragged Ginny downstairs with her. Harry was still speechless, but he shook it off to offer his assistance.

"I'll open the door for you."

Mr Weasley and Charlie grunted in thanks as they lifted Draco up by the arms and feet and took him down to the first storey corridor. Harry followed them and opened the door while the two puffing men placed Draco on Percy's bed.

"What'd I tell you Dad, it's the year of the fallen," Charlie stated sagely as he let Draco's shoulders fall to the bed with a thump. "Except he isn't a Weasley though, is he? Wonder what he was doing on our roof in the first place."

"He had a broom, but it's broken now. I saw it when we picked him up," Mr Weasley commented while dusting himself off. "A Malfoy, in my own house. Thought I would never see the day."

Charlie jerked back when he went to dust off his hands. "Dad, take a look at this!" He held his palms up so his father and Harry could see the fresh blood that was staining them.

Harry looked down, frowning as he noted the red and brown stains starting to seep through Draco's shirt. "We need to turn him over, I think the wounds are on his back."

Mr Weasley and Harry flipped Malfoy over on his stomach. Mr Weasley pulled the bag from Draco's shoulder and lifted his shirt.

"Oh my— oh." These were the only intelligible words that escaped Mr Weasley's lips. Charlie peered curiously around his father's back while Harry and Mr Weasley remained silent.

"What is it?" Charlie stopped at the sight of many crisscrossing lines in red striped over Draco's back, some half healed and others newly broken open. Not much else could be seen for the blood that had congealed in places, obscuring the pale flesh beneath.

"W-who do you think did this to him?" Harry managed to stutter at last. He didn't receive an answer because Mrs Weasley came bustling in with bandages and potions; Ginny was behind her carrying a bowl of warm water.

"Now, let's just take a look— " Mrs Weasley froze in horror, almost dropping a bottle of purple fluid. "What happened to him?"

"We don't know. Charlie just pulled back and there was suddenly all of this blood." Harry swallowed. "It wasn't there before."

Mrs Weasley composed herself and poked one of the slashes with a gentle finger. "I think these were sealed over when he put the shirt on and opened again when he fell." She shook her head and sat on the bed beside Draco. "Ginny, bring me that water and a cloth. I have to clean these wounds out before he can be healed up."

Ginny handed her mother the bowl with shaking hands and collected the bottles she was given in return.

"Charlie, I want you to stay and help me. The rest of you go downstairs; I'll call if I need help." Mrs Weasley nodded to his wife and herded Harry and Ginny out of the room, closing the door.

*~*~*~*~*

"Help me get these clothes off of him," Mrs Weasley asked Charlie as she started snipping Draco's shirt away with a pair of scissors.

"What are we going to put him in? Mum, do you realise how insane this is? A Malfoy at the Burrow." Charlie touched his mother on the shoulder in order to receive some sort of acknowledgement. She only stared back at him coldly.

"I don't care who it is. This boy needs our help and I'm going to do it. Look at him. Do you see these marks? I would bet my life that they were made by a whip. A whip, Charlie. Merlin only knows what the boy has been through."

"But he isn't some stray Kneazle you and Ginny have taken in, this is a Malfoy! There are probably a hundred Death Eaters out looking for him now. If they find him here . . ."

"Go to that wardrobe and get a pair of Percy's pyjamas, he can wear those until I find something better," Mrs Weasley commanded as if she hadn't even heard her son.

"Mum, aren't you listening to me?"

She turned then to look up at her son. "I'm listening, now bring me those pyjamas."

Charlie pursed his lips, but didn't say anything else as he strode over to the wardrobe and laid hands on a pair of striped flannel bottoms. "Here, you won't be able to put the top on him until after those wounds are sealed, though."

Mrs Weasley took the flannels and set them aside. "Help me get his trousers off."

Charlie obeyed and they managed to pull the pyjamas up over Draco's hips. His mother clucked silently to herself. "The poor boy doesn't even have any shoes on his feet. Hand me my wand."

Molly put a warming charm on Draco's feet, which had started to turn blue with frostbite. "Out in the snow and wind with no shoes, no cloak or gloves; he must have left wherever he was in a hurry and fell off his broom from exhaustion."

She soaked a cloth in the basin and bathed the wounds on Draco's back, the water quickly turning from clear to pink and then a deep red. Charlie busied himself by folding Draco's trousers but stopped when a paper and several small leather bags dropped out. He picked up the bags and saw that they were full to brimming with Galleons so he closed them up and put them on the trunk at the end of the bed. The paper was different though and he glanced once at his mother before unfolding it. She more than likely wouldn't approve of him snooping through other people's things.

Charlie scanned the first few lines and gasped aloud. His mother echoed this closely and they both looked up.

"What?" they said together. Charlie decided to go first though.

"Take a look at this, Mum. It fell out of his pocket." He handed the paper over and watched the horror spread over her round, usually pleasant face.

"Merciful . . . oh!" Molly closed her eyes and held the paper to her breast. "How could a father— " She snapped her eyes open and briskly wiped them with the back of a freckled hand. "He is not going back to that place, even if I have to smash Lucius Malfoy's thick head with my skillet. I couldn't live with myself if I let— he‘s only a child."

Mrs Weasley brushed away another tear and handed the parchment to Charlie. "Put this back in his pocket, I don't want him thinking that we've been going through his things like scavengers. And don‘t you dare tell the rest about what we‘ve discovered."

Charlie nodded. "I won‘t. But Mum, do you know what the Tir nOg curse is?"

"No, but I'm sure it's something dreadful. I'll ask your father, if he doesn't know, maybe Hermione will, as she'll be coming to stay in a few days. Ron and Harry always go on about how bright she is and how much she knows." She picked up a jar of salve and was about to apply it to Draco's wounds when she stopped and motioned Charlie over. "I almost forgot this, what with that horrible letter. Come take a look."

Mrs Weasley moved out of the light so that Charlie could see what she was pointing at. At first there were only thin lines from the whip, but underneath there were bits of . . . paint? No, a tattoo.

"Mum," Charlie gasped. "He has an entire Seize Quartiers on his back!"

Molly nodded. "I didn't notice at first because of all the blood. But look, you can see a bit of fleur-de-lis over here, and there's a lion."

"Who would have their lineage tattooed on like that?"

"Mmmn, Draco Malfoy apparently; although I have a feeling that it may have been his father's doing. Heaven knows that I wouldn't want that hideous thing on my body."

Charlie shook his head. "Disturbing."

Mrs Weasley agreed and they were both quiet for a moment while she applied the salve and bandages. She started to pull the mangled shirt out from under Draco, but when she came to his wrists she sucked in a breath.

"It only seems to get worse as I go along. Charlie, why don't you take this bowl downstairs and send Ginny up with some fresh water and tea. I have the feeling I'm going to be here a while."

He sighed and trudged dutifully down the stairs to find Ginny. "Gin-love, Mum wants you upstairs." Charlie shook his sister's shoulder to wake her from where she had been dozing in front of the fire. She yawned, stretching small, ivory fingers above her head.

"All right, I'm up. What does she want?"

"Just for you to make her a cuppa and bring some fresh water." Charlie handed her the washbasin and Ginny gasped, staring into the swirly red depths.

"Is he dead, then?"

"No, just— I'll let Mum tell you. I'm worn out from being in Rumania one minute and merry old England the next. Not to mention the littlest Malfoy tumbling through our roof like Father Christmas. Which means, dear sister, that I‘ll be rooming with the twins instead of in Percy‘s room once everyone's flown home. "

"That would wear anyone out," she laughed lightly. "You just get some rest and I'll see you in the morning." Ginny kissed her brother on his scratchy cheek before she made her way into the kitchen.

*~*~*~*~*

It was so dark out tonight, he couldn't even see the stars or trees. And his broom . . . Draco opened his eyes suddenly, body arched backwards with a jerk. He wasn't on his broom. Where was he!

The room was lit by the soft, warm glow of a candle placed on an unfamiliar table. He seemed to be on a bed of some sort, but it wasn't his. Oh God, had Father found him? There was a woman at the table, greying auburn hair spilling over the arms she had folded under her head. She looked familiar, but Draco couldn't place where he'd seen her before. It didn't seem to matter anyway, she was asleep. And the oddity of a large, cast-iron skillet beside her hand didn't really sink into his foggy brain.

Now was the chance to leave.

Draco pushed up from his stomach and set hesitant feet to the floor. The bed was soft and warm, but he couldn't risk staying there any longer, Father could be on his way. The blood had been washed from his arms and his old clothes stripped off. Draco could feel the stiffness of bandages over his back when the muscles rippled. His wrists were tended to as well. Whoever that was had seen to his wounds.

The bags of Galleons were sitting on top of his trousers, apparently untouched, but his tunic and bag were no where in sight. A glance out the window told him that it had stopped snowing, but was more than likely still biting cold and would remain that way even though the sun was close on the horizon. Father was probably right on his heels and it wouldn‘t do for him to be caught so close to freedom. The snow didn't seem so frightening anymore. He quickly donned his trousers, tucking the small bags of gold into his pockets carefully.

The window was unlocked and Draco slid it open easily, an icy blast in the warm room making him shiver. A look around the room showed that his trusted Cloudstriker IV was in pieces and tucked into a corner. He would just have to do things the hard way. Draco had already placed one foot out of the window and was seeking purchase on the slippery roof below when a voice made him freeze.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Pulling his foot out of the window, he turned toward the doorway and took in the form of a middle-aged, balding red-haired man in his night robe. Draco started and suddenly he knew where he was.

"Well?" the man persisted, arms crossed over his chest.

"Good evening, Mr Weasley."

Arthur spared a glance at his sleeping wife and then it was back to Draco. "Mr Malfoy, my wife was awake most of the night tending to your wounds, the least you can do is tell her you're leaving."

"O-of course, sir." Draco could be unfailingly polite when it suited him, but the stutter in his voice annoyed him and it came out as more of a sneer. Mr Weasley frowned deeply at this and walked over to wake his wife.

"Molly, your patient is up and about," he said with a gentle shake.

"Hmmn? Oh, oh he's awake?" Mrs Weasley sat up quickly and looked towards the bed. "Where did he go?"

Arthur nudged his wife. "Over there, dear, by the window."

Draco straightened up as she turned to look at him, seeming ready to bolt at any moment. But Mrs Weasley didn't notice and she pattered toward him, arms out. She also didn't notice the wide, panicked look in his eyes as she embraced him in a firm, but careful way.

"My dear boy, I was afraid you'd be out for days! Would you like some tea? Well, of course you'd like some tea after all you've been through, poor mite. Come downstairs with me. Or would you rather I bring it up here to you?"

There were so many words spilling from her lips so quickly that it made Draco's head spin. "Um," was all he was able to manage.

"Molly, give the boy a chance to let things sink in before you pepper him with questions."

But Mrs Weasley wasn't listening to her husband as she clasped her hands in sudden inspiration. "Oh, pepper! I'll make a Pepper Up Potion! That'll warm him, come with me." She grabbed a bandaged wrist without thinking and Draco hissed in pain. Mrs Weasley let go and put a hand to her lips.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear." So she grabbed his arm instead and dragged him down the stairs into the kitchen. Mr Weasley followed them and she left both at the table, humming to herself as she pulled out the potion and a various tea things.

"She gets carried away at times," Arthur explained as he sunk into a chair beside Draco. He merely nodded, still dumbstruck by Mrs Weasley's ‘attack'. It was a few moments more before he was able to speak at all.

"It isn't as if I'm not— " Draco paused, willing himself to say the proper words. "Grateful, for what you've done. But, why am I here?"

Mr Weasley looked surprised. "You mean you don't remember?"

Draco shook his head. "The last thing I remember was being on my broom."

"We don't know much more than you do, I'm afraid. But when we found you, you had fallen through the upstairs roof."

"Fallen through the roof!" Draco's eyes widened just a fraction. Mr Weasley nodded and Draco looked down at the well-worn table dully. "Am I anywhere close to London, then?"

"London is only ten miles or so from here."

Draco acknowledged this and closed his eyes. It wasn't far at all. He couldn't risk hailing the Knight Bus, but a long walk would do no harm. He rose to leave.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Mr and Mrs Weasley, but I'm afraid I must go now. I'll pay you for the roof and— "

"You certainly will not!" Mrs Weasley glowered from below him and to the left, spoon in hand. Her fierce protectiveness, combined with the fire in her eyes made her seem ten times more threatening than even his father and Draco stared for a moment before regaining his senses.

"But I— "

"Sit," Mrs Weasley commanded, pointing the wooden utensil at him.

Draco complied, feeling very apprehensive at being cowed by such a small, dumpy woman.

"Honestly!" she started prattling as she set out the tea things. "No shoes or cloak and he thinks he can walk to London! In the snow!"

Draco looked down at his feet and curled them under his chair in embarrassment, then realised he was also half-naked and crossed his arms over his chest. Decent people didn't walk about with no shoes or even a shirt to cover them. Mr Weasley chuckled.

"Let me get you a shirt, at least." He left the table and went up the stairs, his footfalls soft in the quiet house. Mrs Weasley had taken a seat next to him and proceeded to pour some Pepper Up into a small cup.

"Here dear, drink this."

Draco looked at the cup, remembering the feel and sight of steam blowing out one's ears and shook his head. He really needed a cigarette. "Can't, I'm— allergic."

"Oh," Mrs Weasley looked disappointed. Draco felt a twinge of guilt and dug his fingers into his arm from disgust while she spoke. "Well, I suppose a cuppa would do you just as well. You aren't allergic to tea, are you?"

"No, of course not."

"Good, good." She made up some tea with cream and sugar, handing it to him. "You drink up and I'm going to take a look at these." Mrs Weasley pushed up her sleeves and gently peeled the bandages from around one wrist while Draco lifted the cup in his other hand obediently. She clucked softly and rubbed a bit of purple salve into the wound. "Terrible, terrible."

"It's really nothing, Mrs Weasley. I'll be fine."

Molly placed the cloth over his wrist again, tying it off with a knot. "Now, it's time we had a little talk." She narrowed her eyes at him and Draco had a distinctly uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"If it is about the roof— "

She waved her hand as a cup of tea was poured and she took a sip. "It isn't about the roof, dear." Molly seemed to think for a moment before taking another taste of her tea. "Those wounds on your wrists are from a rope, aren't they?"

"Um."

"Don't lie to me."

"Yes, Mrs Weasley."

"And the ones on your back from a whip?"

Draco was too intimidated by Mrs Weasley to do anything more than nod. He hated this feeling; he hated feeling, period. The woman had no right to pry into his business. Not to mention that she'd brandished a spoon at him earlier as if he, Draco Malfoy, were no more than a common house-elf.

"That's what I thought. I would ask who did this, but I don't think it necessary." She paused, taking another drop from her cup before muttering passionately. "The next time I see Lucius Malfoy, it will be with a wand in my hand."

Draco's eyes widened. "No, you can't! If he— Mrs Weasley, don't tell him where I am. It's enough that I'm in your house, but after what I've done— " He cut himself off, not allowing himself to reveal what he was about to say. Too much had been said already. Damn these soft-hearted people; they'd be the death of him.

Mrs Weasley patted his hand. "Don't work yourself up so. I'm not saying a word, and neither is anyone else," she said slowly, looking at the doorway. Mr Weasley stood there, carrying a shirt in one hand, which he handed to Draco.

"I won't say anything about this. I have the feeling that it is better if I don't. However, I would like to know what is going on," he said with a very pointed look at Draco. He swallowed, knowing he would have no peace until he told them something.

"My father wanted me to— do something. But I refused so I, ah, ran away."

Mr Weasley lifted his eyebrows and took a seat beside his wife. "I believe there is more to the story than that. If we are to help you, we need to know what we are you helping you get away from."

Draco closed his eyes. "Sir, don't make me say things that I'll regret."

Arthur gazed at him for a moment, measuring, before he took a slip of paper out of his pocket and set it on the table in front of the boy. "I believe this is yours?"

Draco could feel the blood drain from his face. It had been foolish to take that from his father's journal in the first place. Now his father could kill him for several things, not least of which was revealing concrete proof of Malfoy allegiances to the Weasleys.

"Where— " His head was spinning and Draco raised a hand to his chest, making himself breathe slowly. "Where did you get that?"

"I found it in the hall, actually. I didn't realise it belonged to you until after I read it."

"You— read— " Draco couldn't breathe; he tugged at his neck, pulling in ragged breath after ragged breath. "He will kill me now."

"No," Mr Weasley stated firmly, uncharacteristically firm. "He will not."

"Dear." Molly turned to her husband. "I'm going to owl Professor Dumbledore. Perhaps he may know— "

"No!" Draco shouted before he was able to restrain himself. "Don‘t interfere," he whispered in a more subdued way. "It would be better for you and your family if you just let me go. I'll hide, move to another country, Father won't be able to find me."

The heat was building in his chest, burning every thought to ashes. Draco's nose was watering and it took more self-control than he had to keep the tears at bay. One slipped down his cheek anyway and hid in the light whiskers covering his face. Draco put a hand up and it came away wet. He looked at it, confused; he‘d never done that before. At least not that he could remember.

"What's happening to me? What did you do?"

At that moment, there were footsteps behind him followed by a yawn.

"Oh, hullo Mum. Couldn't sleep eith— " Ginny stopped, hovering somewhere above his quivering shoulders, he could almost feel her breath on the back of his neck. "Mum? Dad? What's going on?"