A/N: Another one! We're capping this story at 15 chapters folks. I'll try to do it justice as the story concludes.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
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Draco sat unblinking, glazed eyes trained on the overflowing plate of food Mrs. Weasley had placed before him.
Jibes, jokes, and laughter saturated the air as the Weasley clan plus two gathered for breakfast. Even after being here for two weeks, Draco was still unaccustomed to the general feeling of merriment that hung around the family.
Ever since his and Harry's abrupt arrival, the pair had been nothing but cared for, well fed, and included. Harry was instantly right at home, undeniably at ease with his friends and school house mates. But old habits died hard as the mutual feeling of leeriness between the Weasley boys and Draco persisted.
The pale haired boy had had no problem keeping to himself, content to sneer from afar. It wasn't as easy to avoid Mrs. Weasley and her motherhenning.
Under the careful ministrations of Molly Weasley, Draco's injuries had been healing quite nicely. The garish handprint around his throat had all but faded, a few traces of lingering yellow here and there. All minor cuts and scrapes had scabbed and flaked. The double black eyes had taken on the faint yellow that his neck had. The only injury that seemed to last was his right ankle, which stubbornly refused to take all his weight, forcing Draco to walk with a slight limp.
Molly tutted and fussed over it constantly, bracing it with several strips of cloth each day. The binding forced the joint to be stiff enough to where Draco could move it, but only just enough to get around.
"Not hungry this morning, dear?"
It took Draco a moment to realize the words were being directed at him. He blinked owlishly, glancing up at the plump figure that had appeared over his shoulder seemingly without a sound.
Mrs. Weasley was making her way around the table, doling out second and third portions to the others. A gentle frown creased her brow as she inspected the utterly untouched food on the Malfoy boy's plate.
Her frown only deepened as Draco quickly turned back to face his plate, refusing to meet her eyes.
Suppressing a sigh, Molly moved along the table, sliding a few more sausages onto George's plate.
Draco had been a squirrelly character ever since he had been well enough to hold his eyes open for longer than five minutes at a time. Molly shuddered as she thought back to that grisly day two weeks ago when Narcissa Malfoy's head had popped up into their grate, begging for safety for her son and Harry.
Arthur and Molly had been dumbfounded to say the least. It was the last face they had ever expected to see in their fireplace and it was the last thing they ever expected to hear from said face.
However, being the type of people that they were, the Weasleys never even considered turning her down.
Arthur had prepared for the reception while Molly had raced upstairs to prepare a room for the two boys. Not knowing what sort of condition they'd be in, Molly had set out a few clean bandages, some tinctures and ointments, and a petite vial of pain-killer potion. Nothing could have prepared her for the state Draco arrived in.
By the time she had finished treating him and gotten both him and Harry sleeping soundly, she was utterly spent.
She had wept on her husband's shoulder for the boy.
His chest and abdomen had been a mess of bruises. A few of his ribs had some give to them, belying cracked ribs. Thick red stripes, obviously from a cane or rod of some sort, cut across his shoulders and upper back. Fierce discolorations marked his arms, shapes not nonidentical to the one around Draco's neck. She had had to reset his nose and two of his fingers, wiping tears from his eyes even as she fought back her own.
She didn't know how long Arthur had held her as she tried to fathom what kind of monster would do that to his own child?
Once Draco was alert enough to realize where he was and what family he was surrounded by, he had shuttered himself off. He wasn't cruel, he wasn't mean; he just simply wasn't anything. Molly tried desperately to break through the stony facade, but she quickly found that Draco Malfoy was a tough nut to crack.
No matter the efforts that the Weasley parents, Harry, and occasionally the children, made to engage Draco, he was resolutely shut off. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone, he all but hid between mealtimes, and he flat out refused to look Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the eye.
Molly didn't know if it was out of shame or anger or, Merlin forbid, fear.
She shook herself out of her musings abruptly as she finished her round of replenishing plates. She went back to the stovetop, dropping more eggs into her skillet so that there would be some ready for her husband when he returned from the Ministry.
Speaking of…
"Good morning everyone!" Arthur cried jovially, striding through the kitchen door.
Seven echoing calls of well wishes rang. The eighth mouth remained resolutely shut.
Draco disinterestedly pushed his found around his plate with his fork. The eggs were so brutally mushed, they no longer resembled food; the sausages didn't take long to follow. Nimble fingers picked apart the dry toast as the raucous racket rose at one of the Weasley twins' joke.
When he'd destroyed all he could of his breakfast, Draco silently pushed his chair back from the table. He collected his plate and his glass of milk and went to move around the corner of the table and place the dish in the sink. He kept his eyes trained on his plate of mangled food, taking extra care not to accidentally drop the dish.
So focused was he, that he didn't realize that there was a tall balding figure in his path.
Draco jumped backwards as Mr. Weasley spun around at the unexpected bump from behind. He was just in time to snatch the plate up as it fell from the young Malfoy's fingers. He could do nothing, sadly, about the glass of milk that slipped from the boy's fingers.
A bang followed by a dreaded tinkling sounded as the glass shattered, throwing milk and shards of glass every which way.
All noise ceased at the sound of the shatter.
Everyone froze.
Arthur sighed.
And that was all it took.
Draco dove for the floor, trembling fingers plucking glass shards from the floor. Swirls of bright red began to mix with the pale white of the milk as the sharp pieces of glass sliced into Draco's fingers and palms. But the pain didn't stop him.
He flinched backwards as Arthur Weasley squatted down in front of him.
The balding man's face was startlingly blurry and it was then that Draco realized that there were tears clouding his vision. He swiped them away angrily, wincing as one of the shards protruded from his closed fist and sliced across his upper cheek with the motion.
With his vision cleared, he could now see Mr. Weasley's hand reaching out towards his face.
Draco reared backwards, falling onto his bottom in an attempt to evade the grasping hand. But Mr. Weasley would not be deterred. He shifted his feet as he edged closer to the distraught boy. He didn't, however, expect Draco to move so quickly.
Faster than anybody could blink, Draco had scrambled to his feet and bolted out the door Mr. Weasley had entered not five minutes before.
He faintly registered a cry of "Malfoy!" as he streaked across the yard and into the rushes surrounding the quaint home.
Bog water splashed up his calves as he pressed on, not knowing how long he ran or where exactly he was running to. It wasn't until his lungs were blazing and his heart was a fist boxing against his ribcage that he finally slowed to a stop.
His crazed dash had led him to a small patch of grass amongst the wetland. The grass was soft and tall and he sank gratefully onto it as he fought to recover his breath.
Draco flopped onto his back and closed his eyes against the bright morning sun.
"Of all the stupid, idiotic things," he thought to himself. The memory of that dreaded night sprang to the forefront of his mind, unbidden. Flashes of spilled drinks, his own clumsiness, falling witches and wizards, his father's livid stare across the room…
Draco's eyes flew open.
No.
Lucius Malfoy was not here. He was hundreds of miles away. Far enough away that he couldn't hurt Draco. Couldn't reach him. Couldn't touch him.
The pale haired boy didn't know how long he laid there, staring up at the mountainous clouds as they rolled by. Judging by the escalated temperature of the sun, Draco guessed it had to be at least midday by now. But he didn't care. He wasn't ready to go back. To put the truth into words, Draco didn't know if he could get back even if he tried.
His blind sprint that morning had been just that: blind.
He hadn't paid any attention to where he was running. He just knew that he needed to get away. And so here he was, stranded in the rushes, with no one but the flies and frogs to keep him company.
Draco sat up, gasping and pulling his hands away from the earth at the sudden pain in his palms.
Turning his hands so they were palm side up, he huffed a short breath of disbelief. He was still holding handfuls of the broken glass. Draco quickly turned his palms back down and shook his hands to relieve them of the injurious objects. He lifted them to eye level for inspection; there were a few minuscule pieces that stubbornly stuck to the inside of his cuts.
Draco knew he wouldn't be able to force them out without the proper tool. He let his hands fall back to his sides. Nothing he could do about it now.
Just as he was about to lie back on the springy earth, a sudden rustling in the fens startled him to alertness. He slowly drew his feet under him, ready to bolt at the drop of a hat. A familiar burn was starting to spread through his legs as he held the crouch and just when he thought he could take it no longer, the reeds parted.
Out tumbled the smallest Weasley.
Draco straightened out his knees, confused by the sudden appearance.
Ginny Weasley stumbled her way up onto the hillock, tripping over the long tangles of grass. Draco watched blank faced as she approached. What on earth was she doing out here?
His question was answered in the form of a small green bundle that was inescapably shoved into his arms. Ginny dropped to the ground, pretzeling her legs beneath her. She stared up at the older boy until he followed suit.
Draco gently lowered himself, his right ankle protesting loudly as it recovered from the shock of his sudden sprint earlier. The redhead glanced pointedly at the bundle in Draco's hands; Draco obliged.
Untying the simple knot, he unfolded the cloth to reveal three breakfast scones, five cold sausages, and a few pieces of mismatched fruit. The little Weasley's hand shot out and snatched up the one red apple. She quickly bit into it and chewed contentedly on the sweet taste.
Gingerly, Draco selected one of the scones and broke it in half, taking a small bite of the crumbly food.
Ginny didn't say anything, but her pleased smile said enough.
When all of the food was gone, Ginny folded up the napkin and placed it in her pocket. She stood, brushing off the seat of her pants, and began to cast about for some of the long-stalked flowers that grew on this particular patch of grass.
Accepting that she was no threat to him, Draco reclined once again in the grass. Eventually, Ginny came back to join him, her hands full of the wild flowers. He briefly looked over to watch as nimble, well-practiced fingers wove the stems in and around each other, creating a thicker strand with each added flower.
Draco turned his gaze back to the rolling clouds, content to leave Ginny to her own devices. With the gentle breeze drifting through the rushes and the rhythmic sounds of the frogs in the bog, Draco felt his frayed nerves begin to relax for the first time in two weeks. His eyes slipped shut of their own accord.
Once again, Draco found time had slipped from his fingers.
He flinched abruptly as something fell on his face. Blinking rapidly, Draco sat up, catching the offending object as it slid down his face into his waiting hands. His brow creased slightly as he recognized the object.
Bright blue eyes cut sideways to the knoll's other occupant. Ginny's eyes were determinedly cast down at the new project in her hands, but her slowly reddening cheeks gave her away.
Draco twirled the impeccably made flower crown in his hands.
Instinct told him to rip it apart or perhaps cast out into the marsh, just to be spiteful. But something stopped him. What offense did he hold against the youngest Weasley?
Just that, in fact. She was a Weasley. And Malfoys weren't supposed to like Weasleys. His father had always spoken the name was nothing but contempt and disgust. It was only natural for Draco to copy the attitude and show them antipathy them too.
And after all, being at school with a few of the redheaded clan had proved to be nothing but trouble for Draco.
But Draco hadn't been in school with this one. This one was shy, didn't talk much, and knew to make herself scarce around the Malfoy boy. And yet, she had come out to find him, brought him lunch, and now had made him a gift out of wild flowers.
Draco would deny it to his very last dying breath that he ever did, but ever so gently he perched the flower crown on top of his pale blonde hair, feeling it slide down to rest on his forehead.
The scarlet of Ginny's cheeks deepened as she caught the motion out of the corner of her eye.
Of course it was then at that moment that Draco heard a voice calling somewhere off to their right.
"Ginny! Draco!"
The girl bounded to her feet instantly. "Over here, Dad!"
They traded calls back and forth for a few minutes before the leader of the Weasley clan burst through the rushes. "There you two are," Arthur huffed, out of breath from his frolic. Ginny met him halfway down the small slope and threw her arms around his middle.
"I found him," her muffled voice floated back to Draco.
Arthur returned the hug. "So you did. Good girl."
Draco slowly got to his feet careful not to use his hands or put too much pressure on his right foot. Arthur came the rest of the way up the hill and, much to Draco's astonishment, enveloped the young boy in a hug as well.
"Glad you're okay," Arthur said softly.
For the second time that day, unbidden tears threatened to spill down Draco's cheeks.
Was this what a father is supposed to be like?
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As always, thanks for reading! I appreciate your feedback! If there's something you would like to see, please don't hesitate to ask. Two chapters left!