Chapter Twenty: Christmas

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco Malfoy and carried him into the house. The prefect clung to his shoulders, crying quietly, his head buried in Harry's neck. When they reached the kitchen, with Fleur trailing behind, it was Ginny who first spotted them.

"Harry, what -?" she said, rising from her chair, leaving her quill and parchment on the kitchen table. She'd clearly been writing a letter.

"Get Mrs Weasley. Mrs Malfoy. Tell them Draco's back." Harry laid Draco on the kitchen table. Draco curled up in the fettle position, his burns fully on display. Ginny stood watching the prefect, unmoving. "Go, Ginny!"

Ginny, overcoming her shock, picked up her letter and said, "Right." She scrambled out of the kitchen, her footfalls making loud thumps! on the stairs in the outer hallway.

Harry glanced across at Fleur. "Can you contact members of the Order? Arthur? Sirius? Call off the search party."

"Should I contact Professor Snape? 'E is Draco's godfat'er, yes?"

Her question made Harry flinch. He didn't want the man who planned to murder Dumbledore going anywhere near Draco. It didn't matter that Snape had taken an Unbreakable Vow for Draco, Harry still didn't trust him.

"Yes," Harry heard Draco rasp.

"But he's a Death Eater!" Harry burst out.

Draco groaned. "No. I need him. Get Severus."

Harry turned his gaze onto the ashy fireplace. "Fine. Floo him first, Fleur. Tell Snape that Draco was burned and needs help."

Fleur kneeled by the fireplace and began a series of Floo calls. Harry moved to stand in front of Draco. He held the prefect's hand and whispered soft endearments to him.

Not five minutes later, Mrs Malfoy appeared in the kitchen doorway. She released a broken sob and entered the room, her hand rising to her chest, her gaze taken by her son. Mrs Weasley came flying in next, wand at the ready, with a few potions poking out of her pockets, her daughter scuttling behind her.

"Draco, what happened?" Mrs Malfoy asked softly, before her attention swept onto Harry, who immediately released Draco's hand. "Was this part of your plan, Potter? To rescue us? Look at my son!"

Harry stepped towards one of the few kitchen cabinets near the back of the room.

"I didn't mean for this," he replied.

"Calm down, Narcissa," Mrs Weasley ordered. She moved to stand beside the kitchen table, and as she began to examine Draco's back for a closer inspection, she went on, "I'm sure Harry never wanted this to happen."

"No. It was my fault," Draco said, his voice raspy again. He tried using his elbow to push himself up but failed, coming to rest on his side again. "Mine. Just mine."

"Now, now, we'll talk once you're feeling better. First, let's take some of that pain away and heal those burns, shall we?" Mrs Weasley pocketed her wand and brought out some of the potion bottles. "Narcissa," she called to her, "Can you assist? My Fred and George were always getting themselves accidentally burned when they were children. Silly boys."

Narcissa maneuvered herself to stand in front of Draco. "What are you giving him? Numbing potions?"

"Yes. If your son isn't allergic?" Mrs Weasley tentatively asked. Mrs Malfoy responded that he was not, in which case Mrs Weasley then smiled and handed over three bottles. "Numbing Draught. Wound-cleaning Draught. And a Calming Draught."

Harry watched from beside the cabinet as Mrs Malfoy fed Draco one potion after another, and Mrs Weasley ordered her daughter to bring them more Numbing Draughts from the bathroom on the Third Floor Landing. As the Numbing Draught was kicking in, and Draco's face was wiped of tears and dirt by his mother, green flames soared out from the fireplace.

Professor Snape walked out, his dark robes fluttering and completely unaffected by the fire. He was holding onto a brown, grimy bag. His gaze settled on Draco, his expression hardening into a scowl.

"Foolish boy," he muttered.

"Potter supplied us with a portkey so that Draco and I could take sanctuary here. The portkey was this bracelet - here!" Narcissa indicated to the bracelet on her wrist, which glinted in the dull candlelight of the kitchen. "Draco was meant to grab my arm once we reached Burns Alley. The portkey was to go off from here. But Draco didn't - he let go of my arm, Severus!"

"Because he had other plans, Cissy. I know quite enough about Mr Malfoy's heroics." Professor Snape set his bag on the table and opened it to reveal a collection of bottles and held together in a wooden rack. "He never intended on following you. The moment you left via that portkey, he used his broomstick to fly to Gringotts in London. At the behest of Albus Dumbledore."

"Why would he do such a thing?" Mrs Malfoy asked.

Harry wondered that as well. He had planned for Draco and his mother to arrive safely, not for Draco to arrive injured. Dumbledore gave him a mission. Was this it - something to do with Gringotts? And how does Snape know?

"The Headmaster needed Draco to investigate a Vault, one he could not access himself." Snape brought several bottles out from his bag. The bottles contained a thick, orange paste inside. "Albus agreed to give the location of Twelve Grimmauld Place to your son, but only under the understanding that your son would look into the Vault before he arrived here."

"He's just a boy, though," Mrs Weasley remarked. She looked like she considered the entire matter absurd. "Why is Dumbledore giving missions to teenagers!"

Fleur scoffed. She had been sitting by the sink in silence since she had contacted the search party, ordering them to dismantle.

"But 'E is not a boy, Mrs Weasley. 'E is a Veela like me."

Mrs Weasley huffed.

"I believe it is more to do with his status as the heir to the Malfoy-Black name, that intrigued Albus," Professor Snape said. "What have you given Draco? I trust you at least managed to find a Numbing Draught?"

Narcissa was the one who answered. "I've given him a Numbing Draught, a Wound-cleaning Draught, and a Calming Draught. About five minutes ago, Severus."

He nodded. "Good. Then we can start to administer the burn-healing paste. Take these bottles and rub the paste into his back."

Harry had seen packets of burn-healing paste being applied before. When Cedric Diggory had burned the side of his face during the First Triwizard Tournament, the Swedish Short-Snout dragon having attacked him, Madam Pomfrey had needed to use the awful-smelling paste on the boy in order to heal him.

"Oh, Draco, you should never have given me that bracelet," Mrs Malfoy said. She rubbed the paste into his skin, covering the burns. As she continued her task, she looked up at Professor Snape again, and asked him, "Do you know who did this to him? Was it one of those blasted goblins from Gringotts?"

Harry wanted to ask why Draco's mother felt that the goblins would attack her son, but he quickly decided to hold his tongue. And he was more interested in what Professor Snape had to say, anyway.

"Sirius informed me this morning that Draco was missing. When he did, I immediately went to Albus, who confessed the whole thing and told me about the ordeal. He did not, however, tell me which Vault held his interest." Professor Snape closed his bag and took to holding it again. "I do know that Yaxley and the Carrows were in Knockturn Alley. They saw your son coming out of Gringotts and attacked him. Lestrange had alerted them by then as to your disappearance."

"And how do you know that Draco was attacked by Death Eaters?" Harry asked, stubbornly, glaring at the professor. "How did you hear about it?"

"Because after that incident in Diagon Alley, Lestrange, Yaxley and the Carrows went to the Dark Lord to inform him. Consequently, the Dark Lord called for a meeting at Malfoy Manor." He grimaced. "I had to join. I should warn you, Cissy, your sister is not happy that you snuck out of the Manor."

Narcissa raised her eyebrows. "Bellatrix can suffer the Dark Lord's wrath, I care not."

"Yes, well, I think we can all discuss this while Draco is put to bed," Mrs Weasley said. "I think he'd benefit from a good night's rest, don't you, Mrs Malfoy?"

"Yes. I - I agree," she stuttered. "Which floor will my son be sleeping on?"

"The First Floor Landing," Harry answered, although now he wished that Sirius had been the one to inform Mrs Malfoy. "It's my room, but there's an extra bed in there. And I can keep watch over Draco throughout the night for you."

Mrs Malfoy gave him a tolerable look. "You will call me immediately when he wakes?"

Harry nodded vehemently.

"His wings will need to be examined before he is put to bed. I daresay they will have been damaged," Professor Snape said, cutting in. "If you delay until the morning, his wings could heal incorrectly. We have no idea which spells Yaxley and the Carrows cast."

"An incendio, by the looks of 'ings. A powerful one," Fleur said, pointing out the obvious. Even Harry knew that the Carrows had cast the burning charm at Draco. "It would damage 'is wings, if 'e called 'em out to protect 'imself."

"Draco, sweetie," Mrs Malfoy said, laying a hand on his shoulder, "Can you take out your wings?"

"We need to inspect them, Mr Malfoy," Snape reiterated.

Draco gave a small whimper before he maneuvered himself into lying on his stomach on the kitchen table. As he shrugged his shoulders, and the edge of a wing popped out of his back, he gave such a loud cry that Harry thought he might claw through the table from the pain. His left wing was a twisted, broken thing. Narcissa returned to her spot behind her son and seized him by the shoulder, holding him back from trembling and falling off the table.

He clutched the kitchen table harder as he pushed the other wing out. Slowly. Agonisingly. The tip was curled inward and blackened by burns. His skin was burned off in places, leaving his thin bones at the base almost clear, vulnerable to snapping. A first-year could chop off the wing in it's current state.

"Mum, stop!" Ginny screeched. She was still standing near the doorway of the kitchen, holding her hand over her mouth, as Draco shook and sobbed, new tears now pouring down his face. "I mean, look at him."

Harry cringed. Where is Sirius and Arthur? Surely they've dispersed the search party by now.

"If we stop, then his skin will heal poorly and he'll have scars, Ginny, dear." Mrs Weasley turned to the young prefect sitting on the table. "It's painful, but in the long run, your recovery will be smoother, boy. No pain in the long run."

"I know they look ugly," Draco said, though his eyes were still pinned shut.

Hearing his words, Ginny turned and ran out of the room, clutching the letter she'd been writing. Dumbledore doesn't like us writing to people outside of this house. So, who's she writing to?

"Your wings are beautiful, Malfoy. Long. Powerful. Terrible as 'ey look now, I 'ink you'll fly again," Fleur declared from her chair. "Mrs Weasley," she said softly, "You should talk with Ginny? She is very young. 'Is must be so frightening for 'er."

Mrs Weasley sighed. "Are you okay to heal his wings and help Draco to bed?"

"We will be fine," Mrs Malfoy reassured her. "Go, comfort your daughter."

Mrs Weasley left, and Professor Snape and Mrs Malfoy slicked Draco's wings up with the paste, as well as gave the prefect a cup full of Skele-gro to mend the broken bones in his left wing. Harry showed them to his room on the First Floor. He then proceeded to put on the kettle in the kitchen, while they redressed Draco into a set of pyjamas and placed his bookbag beneath his bed.

Sirius and Mr Weasley returned through the Floo just as Mrs Malfoy was pouring herself a cup of tea. It was decided that Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fleur, and Ginny would leave for the Burrow and return come the morning in order to prepare Christmas dinner. Sirius was adamant that Professor Snape spend the night and sleep in the spare room on the Third Floor Landing, though, arguing that Draco could need medical attention during the night.

Knowing that, Harry excused himself and quickly went to his room. Mercifully, sleep came quickly to him, although that could've been because he'd been up since 5 a.m.

The next day was Christmas. And that meant Christmas dinner, for which Mrs Weasley intended on hosting fourteen people, including herself. The entire day was manic.

When it was finally time to sit down for dinner at the kitchen table, Harry chose the seat beside Sirius. Draco chose the other chair next to Harry, much to Harry's happiness. Ron and Ginny Weasley made to sit opposite Harry, and Mrs Malfoy sat opposite her son. Mrs Malfoy sat beside Mrs Weasley, followed by her husband, Fred and George. Fleur, Bill and Remus sat next to Draco.

"Is Tonks not coming?" Fred asked loudly, looking at his mother as he helped himself to a bowl of sprouts nearby.

"No, no. I think she's spending the holidays with her mother," Mrs Weasley replied, before sending Remus a stiff glare. "I did invite her."

Remus picked up his glass, though Harry knew not what he was drinking. "I hardly think it's my fault, Molly. Tonks has a mind of her own. If she chooses not to come, then that is her choice."

"Oh, poppycock, Lupin. You know that perfectly well."

Mrs Malfoy leaned inward to them. "Excuse me. Who is Tonks?"

Mrs Weasley then went on to explain that Tonks was Nymphadora Tonks, the daughter of Andromeda Tonks. Mrs Malfoy's eyebrows peaked high at the mention of her sister.

Harry was so involved in their exchange that he nearly didn't hear the fireplace roar behind him. He turned in his chair, and saw Professor Snape entering the kitchen, wearing his usual attire, a set of black robes, dress shirt and trousers. His hair seemed less greasy than normal, however. He's definitely washed it, Harry thought.

Sirius stood up, and motioned with his hand to the spare seat beside him at the head of the table.

"I had Professor Snape stay over last night," he informed the dinner party. "Here, Severus. I saved you a seat." Professor Snape took off his robes. He placed them over the back of the chair and sat down. "Come, Severus. Eat - eat! You must be starving." Sirius lifted one of the many plates of potatoes on the table and brought it towards the Professor for him to take some. "Molly went to the trouble of roasting so many potatoes, I fear we'll have enough until New Years."

Mrs Weasley, who had been engaged in pulling a Wizard cracker at the other end of the table with her husband, evidently heard her name mentioned. She looked across just as the Wizarding cracker burst with a bang! Vibrant blue smoke enveloped Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fred, and George, before flowing to the floor to reveal that Mr Weasley had won a pack of muggle cards, the kind used in games of Snap.

"It is Christmas, Sirius Black," she shouted across the table. "And I'd like to see you cook a dinner for fourteen people."

Sirius held up his glass of eggnog to her. "I could never outmatch you in the kitchen, Molly, dear," he replied, before turning to Harry. "Honestly, I fear I am only good at making tea."

"You were, however, excellent at Potions back at school," Professor Snape cut in.

Sirius put down his glass. "You were better, Severus."

"Let me rephrase, then. When you paid attention, you were excellent."

Harry frowned, and turned away from the conversation, not wishing to hear anymore. Since when does Snape compliment others on their abilities? He wasn't entirely sure that he liked the idea of Sirius and the Potions Master getting along so well.

Beside him, Draco appeared locked in a discussion with Bill and Fleur over employment benefits for Gringotts employees. Harry couldn't tell what was so interesting, but he was glad that Draco was seemingly enjoying himself.

"I suppose you're happy that Draco's here, now?" Ron asked. Harry turned to see the Gryffindor prefect use his fork to stab a potato on his plate and then cut viciously into it.

"Yes, I am." Harry poured himself some more eggnog. "Why? Something the matter?"

"Nothing. No, not at all. But I'm wondering if you two are gonna stay friends when go back to school?" Ron brought a slice of potato to his mouth and chewed on it quickly.

"I'm still friends with you and Hermione. It's just, I spend a lot of time with Draco." Harry swallowed. He was basically sitting in front of his entire family. Draco and he hadn't even talked about what they were. "We're friends."

"Yeah, we'll see if that lasts."

Harry was about to spit out an angry retort. Ron had abandoned him to hang out with Seamus and Dean in their fifth year, after all. Draco seized his hand underneath the table, however, stunning Harry, to the extent that he was left with his mouth hanging open and turning to the blond prefect. He couldn't remember a time when Draco had held his hand; it was usually the other way around, Harry always trying to reach and hold Draco's hand.

"If Harry wants to abandon his friendship with me when we go back to school, that will be his choice," Draco said, stubbornly. "But I would think that both of us want to ensure Harry's happiness. Wouldn't you say, Ronald? If Harry wishes to remain my friend, then I'm not going to discourage that and make him unhappy."

Ron grunted. "Just don't hurt him, ferret. I'm giving you one chance."

"And I am thankful for that," the blond prefect said. "I also apologise for everything that I've done to you and Harry in the past. Much, of which, I'm not proud of."

Professor Snape scoffed. "Draco, you hardly need to apologise."

"I do, Severus," Draco snapped at his godfather. He turned back to Ron and said, "And I am sorry. Particularly for all the comments I've made about your family over the years. They were unkind."

Draco brought his mug of hot chocolate to his lips, and then he continued eating, although he was consciously looking at the Gryffindor prefect opposite him. Harry was observing Ron, too. In fact, most of the table had become invested in their discussion now.

Fred and George were staring at Draco in disbelief and whispering to one another. Mr Weasley looked impressed and oddly touched, like he hadn't expected in his wildest dreams to be eating with two Malfoys, let alone have one apologise to his youngest son. The only ones who did not seem to be paying attention were Mrs Weasley and Mrs Malfoy. Mrs Weasley had a hand on Mrs Malfoy's shoulder and was discreetly chatting to her, the two mothers seemingly having their own private exchange.

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, Malfoy. Err, thanks. For that."

He gave Draco a mild grin, his face growing as red as his hair. Harry chose not to bring that up.

After dinner, Professor Snape, Sirius, Arthur, Remus and Mrs Malfoy left for the drawing room to discuss the state of Malfoy Manor, and of it's current inhabitants. Draco offered to assist Mrs Weasley with the dishes, to the surprise of everyone. Harry didn't know why Draco wasn't following his mother into the drawing room. I'll talk to him about it, he promised himself.

Remus was the first to leave that afternoon, stating that he had Order business. Then Bill, Fleur, Fred and George went. Ron and Ginny left by the Floo in the evening, although only once Ginny had sent off her letter by owl. Mr and Mrs Weasley said their goodbyes after, with the promise that should Sirius need anything, he would be certain to contact them. And Professor Snape agreed to spend one more night at Grimmauld Place.

With everyone else gone, Harry returned to his room. He found Draco lying on his stomach on his own bed, shirtless, his wings exposed but curled inward to his back. He was reading a book. As usual.

"Splendid evening, wouldn't you say?" Draco muttered, his head turning to peer over his shoulder at Harry. "Ronald seems to think you'll stop being my friend the moment we return to Hogwarts."

"Ignore Ron. He's only afraid you'll hurt me," Harry explained.

Draco snorted. "That isn't going to happen. I owe you. If it weren't for you - if you hadn't given me a way out - who knows what I would have done." He went back to staring at his book. Harry had to wonder what he was even reading. "I was thinking of quitting Hogwarts, you know. I thought that, if none of the other pureblood families would help us, then mother and I should become muggles. Convert all our money into muggle money. Disappear from the wizarding world entirely. That sort of thing."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You don't know the first thing about being a muggle."

"I know a little from Daphne Greengrass. I know what telavasions are."

He flipped through a page of his book, ignorant of the smile that Harry was sending his way.

"Every time I think you'll react like the Draco Malfoy I knew last year, you go ahead and surprise me. You were nice to Ron tonight when I wouldn't have been."

"Yes, I could see that famous temper of yours rising, Potter. So I thought I'd step in." Draco turned to face him again and grinned. The kind of grin that went from cheek to cheek, lighting up his entire face. "Honestly, though, I do miss seeing you all riled up. Your face when you're annoyed -"

"Good to know you haven't completely changed," Harry retorted, sniggering.

He smiled again at the prefect. Draco looked comfortable lying on the bed, in spite of his orange, pasty skin and his wings looking sore and pinkish, even red in places. The tip of his right wing looked like it would never grow back, forever gone. Do wings even grow back? If a thestral lost it's wings, would they grow back?

Dismayed, Harry gathered his book of Advanced Potion-Making and settled on his own bed. As eleven p.m. rolled around, though, with at least two hours having passed between them in peaceful silence, Draco rose from his bed. Harry made to ask when the prefect intended on going to sleep, but then he got out his bookbag out from underneath his bed and, to Harry's complete astonishment, started to pull off his trousers.

"You're getting undressed?" Harry spluttered, embarrassed. "In here?"

Immediately after the words left his mouth, he felt stupid. Draco was perfectly welcome to undress all he liked. It was his room, too, and Harry couldn't expect him to leave for the bathroom on the Third Floor Landing every time he wanted to dress. It was only at Hogwarts that Draco needed to hide the Dark Mark on his arm.

"Do you have a problem with my nakedness, Potter?"

Harry hurriedly shook his head. "No, not at all. I've just never seen you...umm, naked."

He adverted his gaze and stared at the ceiling. Which was very white. And not nearly as interesting and striking as the man who was currently on the other side of his room.

"You're shy?" Draco chuckled. "You know I've seen you undressed before, right?"

After a good, few moments had passed, Harry looked back. Draco had his pyjama bottoms on. And only the bottoms. They were clinging to his hips, barely staying on, and Harry almost choked on his own breath as he contemplated the idea of running his hands over his slim hipbones.

"You've looked? When?" he asked accusingly.

Draco scoffed. "In the dormitory, of course, Potter. Can you blame me? You're striking - everything about you is bloody attractive. And how do you think I felt when you said that you wanted to do things with me?"

Harry got up from his bed and approached the prefect. He was taking a leap now. "I still want to do things with you, Draco."

The prefect frowned. "This is my first night here. I wasn't even sure if you still, well, fancied me," he said, bumbling over his words. It was endearing to hear. "And with my burns -"

"We can just be friends, I'm all right with that. You never did accept my friendship earlier this year, anyway," he said reassuringly, not wanting to rush the Slytherin into anything. "Your recovery is more important than any relationship."

That had apparently been the wrong thing to say, given Draco's frown. "I have a bit more on my mind than friendship, but if being friends is all you want -"

"No, no, definitely not," Harry ushered, his hand moving from to grip Draco's upper arm. He started making small stroking motions up and down his arm, trying to convince the man of his intentions. "What I mean is. I don't want to. You know. Go too fast."

"Is this about me refusing to shake your hand earlier this year?" he asked, still frowning.

"No, this isn't about the handshake, Draco. You were burned. You arrived here with literal burns, over thirteen hours late from when you were supposed to be here." Harry moved closer and gripped his arm harder. "Everyone here suspects that we're barely friends. Ron didn't want me to wait for you outside yesterday, even though he knows that I like you. And I can't -"

"You were worried." Draco said the words like he didn't fully believe them, like he still couldn't believe that Harry cared for him. "I didn't think this would continue."

"Did you think I'd stop caring the moment you stepped into Grimmauld Place?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows. "You apologised to Ron tonight, you went out of your way even though you're in pain. You're - you are..."

Harry leaned forward, placing his forehead against Draco's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"I promised myself I'd give you space. Let you settle in." Harry pulled himself away from Draco and gave him a look of what he hoped was fondness. "But I can't seem to get you out of my head. I don't want to be away from you."

"Oh, Harry."

Draco raised his hand and slid it around Harry's neck, wherein he began caressing the back of his neck with his fingers, grazing his hair, tickling his skin, creating sensations that left Harry's thoughts running wild.

"I thought you'd want to go slow."

Draco groaned. "I don't want to go slow. I want you, too."

The last time at Slughorn's Christmas Party, Draco had told Harry to kiss him. On the cheek. Harry didn't want that; he was desperate for something more now. Closeness. Comfort.

"Kiss me. Please." Harry could hear the sheer wantonness in his own voice. "Not on the cheek. Not like last time. Properly."

"Properly, huh?" Draco asked, teasingly.

Draco leaned in. He was unhurried, keeping an inch between their lips for a moment, as if he was enjoying the tension. Or perhaps, he imagined that Harry might change his mind. The notion that Draco was still hesitant made Harry reconsider and think about closing the distance, but no sooner did he imagine himself titling up on his tiptoes to kiss the man, Draco then brushed his lips against Harry's.

A whimper left Harry's throat. The kiss was chaste, and not at all wet like his kiss with Cho Chang last year, with the combined snogging and tears and despair from Cedric's death. Draco hasn't kissed anyone before, he remembered then. Is this his first kiss? Overwhelmed by the idea, Harry dug his fingers into Draco's arm and concentrated on keeping the kiss chaste and slow, even sucking on Draco's lower lip to make him sigh softly.

Testing Harry's resolve, Draco wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him closer, bringing them chest-to-chest with one another. Harry sunk into his hold, welcoming the closeness. The tension. It was both infuriating and addictive, standing so close to Draco and yet being unable to hold him. He wanted to wrap his arms around Draco, but he couldn't because of the prefect's burns.

Harry didn't want to stop kissing him. Draco pecked him once more on the lips, though, and then pulled back, his breathing hoarse. Harry got a good look at him. The Slytherin looked wrecked. His face and chest were a little flushed, and his lips were trembling. His very swollen, red lips.

"Potter, you -"

"Yes, Malfoy?" he encouraged.

Draco shut his eyes, as if he couldn't bare to look at Harry. "I thought we were getting preparing for bed?"

"Oh." Harry didn't know how to respond to that. He stepped back from the prefect, wanting to give him space. "I'll just get ready for bed, then?"

"All right." Draco walked towards the door and opened it. "I'm just going to brush my teeth in the bathroom upstairs."

The prefect left without saying another word, leaving Harry alone, feeling completely bewildered by the situation.