A Weasley Tradition

Chapter 8: Explanations II

Disclaimer: don't own it

A/n: I'm back! Camp was great, thanks to all who reviewed, and without further ado, on to chapter 8!

"Ron, is that who I think it is?"

Weasley started to laugh insanely. He had lost his mind, Draco decided. There really was no other explanation for it. Yes, this was an odd situation, but Potter's question did not warrant that kind of response. Weasley had to be insane.

"Harry…" Ron was saying, between deep breaths "your hair…Fred and George…breakfast…" and fell into renewed fits of laughter to the point he became impossible to understand.

Potter caught on when he looked at Granger's head, her normally bushy brown hair a violent shade of purple. He too burst out laughing. It didn't take long for everyone else at the table to figure it out. No one's hair was a natural shade. Not that fire red could really be considered a natural shade in the first place, but still.

Everyone had cracked up by this point, the Weasley seniors looked like they were laughing against their better judgment, and the identical boys Draco assumed were the culprits stood leaning against the doorway, identical smirks on their faces. Their hair, Draco noted, had escaped the colour changing experience.

And there he sat, sprawled out on the Weasley living room floor, not laughing, because quite frankly, he didn't find it amusing in the slightest. He cleared his throat so the attention would return to him, before remembering that this was one of the few times he didn't want everyone to focus on him. Damn. Too late now. All heads turned in his direction. Draco had never seen a room sober up quite that quickly before.

"Ron, is that who I think it is?" De ja vu. Draco noticed that Weasley, well, the one that had just purchased him, looked very uncomfortable. After what seemed like an eternity he finally responded.

"Well, err, who do you think it is?" Oh, brilliant response, Draco thought. Surely he could do better than that.

By this point Granger thought she should join the conversation, it being impossible for her to go more than five seconds without saying anything and all.

"Well Ron, it almost looks like Draco Malfoy, but, not the same you know? A little different in the face, definitely shorter, but, that's who it appears to be. But that's impossible; it can't actually be him, can it?"

"See, that's where you're wrong Granger…"

Ron turned to look at him so sharply and gave him such an intense look that he stopped mid-sentence.

"I haven't told you to speak yet. Don't put in any of your input until everyone else is finished talking."

Draco couldn't decide whether the astonished look on 2/3 of the golden trio was from discovering that he really was Draco Malfoy, or from their friend giving him an order, much less him actually following it. Probably a healthy mixture of both.

Not that it mattered. Right now, what mattered was the most recent expression Granger's face had taken on. She looked just like she did about two seconds before she had slapped him, way back in third year. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Hell, last week seemed like a lifetime ago. Draco pulled himself back into the situation at hand before he could travel any further down memory lane.

This time the Mudblood's anger wasn't pointed in his direction. Weasley took an involuntary step back.

"Ron there had better be a good explanation for this." Despite the intense glare she was focusing on him and the aggressive stance she had assumed, her voice was calm, almost unnaturally so.

"Alright you lot, clear out," came a voice from across the room. The twins were shepherding the family out of the kitchen and into a less…confrontationally occupied room. But why there was confrontation at all Draco didn't know. He should think that Granger would be happy with her friend's choice of slave.

And for some reason he wasn't sure of, the words Granger and slave used together in the same sentence rang a bell. That's right! She started that whole thing saying that 'the use of house elves was unethical' or something. He remembered now. Back in fourth year. It only ever had a few members, and it could have quite possibly been the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard of. And Draco had heard his fair share of ridiculous things in his short life.

He was surprised that she even agreed to come here for vacation knowing Weasley would be purchasing a slave, or unpaid servant, to be politically correct. It was just like the difference between Muggleborn and Mudblood. Granger was a Mudblood, and he was a slave. There was no need to try and be polite about it.

He pondered his thought process. Most people would suddenly have an 'understanding' for the other side. But not in his case, and he wondered why. He now considered himself lower, and grudgingly accepted it. So, would he care if someone treated him as an inferior? He had to think about it. Yes, he decided, he would most definitely care, and more than likely rebel.

So why did he still have no sympathy for the lower class, even though he now occupied it? And that's when he realized he had not sympathy for them, but empathy. He did in fact understand what it was like to be beneath others, he had always understood. He simply did not pity them; they weren't people, at least not a person like him.

So did that mean he wasn't fully human now? Was he actually below Potter and his gang? Logically, the answer had to be yes, if he was sticking with the same way of thinking. But there had to be a way to come up with the answer he wanted without having to do any rearranging of his thought process. He'd always been able to do it before.

And he found it. Literally he wasn't below them. But they thought so, and they made up most of the population. So what they thought became fact, so only they're opinions mattered. So yes, he would care if someone treated him as an inferior, but he wouldn't blame them.

Well, now that that was all worked out he had a reality he had to get back to. He saw Weasley take another step back.

Something in his mind clicked, and he heard a small voice, well, at least he thought it was a voice, tell him that he should protect his master.

The bond between them was very slight. He wasn't forced to follow any order, he didn't have to kneel in his master's presence, and since Weasley had chosen not to use the poneatis charm, even though he could punish him for not following an order, the bond could not.

But apparently it was kind enough to offer suggestions as to how he would act in certain situations. Great. And just when he though it couldn't get any better, there ended up being another perk to this whole slave business.

Granger was getting more and more aggressive, her voice was now raised and she was asking over and over again was this what she thought it was. He once again had to wonder why she was angry at all. If she knew that Weasley was getting a slave…and now everything made sense. She hadn't known, thus the confusion on her and Potter's part, the twins letting them work out the confrontation they obviously knew would exist, and Weasley's nervousness in the Leaky Cauldron. Everything was coming together.

If there had been any doubt as to what was going on it was erased when Draco glanced at Potter. He was staring at Draco, not even attempting to hide his confusion. Granger had undoubtedly read about the practice of slavery, and he had heard through the grape vine that Potter had been raised by muggles, so of course he wouldn't know anything about ancient pureblood practices.

Well, the mudblood had obviously figured it out. Weasley's stammering and repeated it's-not-what-it-looks-likes probably only confirmed her suspicions.

"Oh yeah Ron?" She took another step forward and simultaneously shoved him in the chest. "Yeah, well, what is it then?" She shoved him again. "What is it?" Her voice had been gradually rising the entire time, so she was practically shouting at this point.

A low thrumming noise had been slowly building inside Draco's skull, and the intensity had increased thrice fold as soon as Granger had pushed Weasley. He had just been ignoring it before, but now it was almost painful.

"Protect your master," again came the voice that he wasn't sure existed or not. It was more like someone was putting thoughts in his head. But it was there nonetheless.

"Look, Hermione," Weasley was saying, "it's a tradition, it's been in my family for centuries." It almost looked as if he was going to say more, but Granger didn't give him a chance. She struck him hard across the face, and the thrumming noise in Draco's head became officially painful.

He clutched his head, hissing in sharply as he did so. He knew all he had to do was try to 'protect' Weasley and the sound would go away. Even though Draco knew he wasn't in any real danger the bond didn't, or it just didn't care.

He stole a quick glance at potter, his lime green hair already beginning to return to jet black. It looked as if he wanted to intervene, but didn't have the guts. Didn't say much for Gryffindor courage now did it?

Weasley resumed trying to explain. "It isn't forever Hermione, and his family is paid."

"Do you think that matters Ronald?" she screeched. "Do you really think it matters?" She struck him again, and this time Weasley visibly winced.

The noise in Draco's head was almost unbearable now, he had to do something.

"STOP," he screamed. Or at least he tried to scream. His throat had closed up, and nothing but a hoarse whisper came out. Seeing no other option and hoping what was left of his much abused pride would survive it, he jumped in front of Weasley, throwing out his arms in a protective gesture.

Well, that got their attention. It must have looked ridiculous though. He barely came up to Weasley's chest, not very intimidating.

Granger stopped her ranting, and Draco's head stopped pounding. She looked at him briefly, and then looked at Weasley with what could only be described as pure and utter disgust.

She turned on her heel, walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. She grabbed a handful of floo powder, threw it into the fireplace, set her destination for the Leaky Cauldron. A funnel of emerald flames appeared, and without hesitation, or even a glance over her shoulder, she stepped in.

Draco wondered if she knew that her hair still couldn't be mistaken for anything other than purple.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Ron ran his fingers through his hair, just one of the many mannerisms he had picked up from his best friend.

"Ron?" He turned to look at Harry. "What the hell just happened?"

Ron didn't reply for several seconds, giving Malfoy a chance to finally be able to speak a complete sentence.

"Shouldn't we, err, go after her or something?" His question wasn't answered, but the attention of the other two boys focused on him. Ron suddenly remembered something.

"Mum?" he called out. "Could you come here for a moment?" She poked her head nervously into the room. She did a quick scan to make sure nothing was being thrown, and cautiously stepped in. Normally she did not stand for any kind of arguing in her house, but she knew that her son had to tell his friends, and for once she let the conversation take its own course.

"It's alright Mum; the argument's over. Hermione left in a huff though."

She nodded. "I'll send Bill to try and persuade her to come back." At the boy's stricken looks she quickly added, "Or take her home. Now what was it you wanted Ron?"

"Malfoy, come here." He hesitated. Ron stamped his foot and pointed in front of him. "Now." Malfoy scowled, but slunk over reluctantly.

"Oh dear, this isn't Lucius Malfoy's son is it?"

"The one and only," Ron replied.

"Your father won't like this at all." He merely rolled his eyes.

"Dad'll get over it. Anyways, could you take a look at his hand for me? I healed the infection, but I don't know how to fix a cut that big."

She gently took Malfoy's left wrist, and turned over his hand so the palm was facing up. "Oh my, this is quite a nasty hash. Let's see the, oh yes. She spoke one of the many variants of the spell that mended cuts, the ones that Ron could never keep straight. Malfoy's palm instantly knitted itself together.

"You're going to have to learn how to do this yourself Ron. He's yours, not mine or anyone else's to take care of."

"I know, I'll get those spells down sooner or later." She shot him a doubtful look. "Right then, I'll just leave you boys to discuss things."

Harry waited until she had left the room, and immediately turned to Ron. A worried expression crossed his face, mixed with a slight fear. The look made Ron's heart clench. He hated seeing his friend anything but happy and content.

"What is going on? What do we have to discuss? Why is Hermione so angry? And what on earth is Malfoy doing here?" His voice had raised almost a whole octave, and there was a slight note of desperation in his tone.

Ron placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, which seemed to calm him down a bit.

"Harry, I think you should sit down. It looks like I've got a lot of explaining to do.

A/n: Well, I hope you liked it. I would apologize for not updating, but it isn't actually my fault this time. I know I said I would get three chapters done at camp, but I simply did not have the time I thought I would. So chapter nine may take more than a week to get up, but no more than two weeks. In case you were wondering about the hair colour thing, if you can remember way back into chapter four, Ron found Fred and George making breakfast. Well, now we all know what they were actually doing.