Cw for reference to past torture, underage drinking, and slight (period typical) homophobia.
Draco sits and stares at the clock. It's been three and a half minutes since he last checked it. Only one week out of the six-week holiday has passed he's already bored out of his mind. Malfoy Manor feels like the most isolated place on the planet: the only people he's seen all week have been his parents and the staff floating around. Neither make for particularity dynamic conversations.
He digs around in the draws under his bedside table, searching for a quill and some presentable paper. There's a half-chewed quill lying at the bottom next to a small stack of unopened square paper. He tears the plastic off and presses the quill to the paper.
To Daphne
Please send help I'm losing my mind the only people I've spoken to all week are my parents
He scribbles it out, then crumples the paper up for good measure. He gets out a fresh piece of paper and decides to adopt a less child-like approach.
Dear Daphne,
I hope your holidays are going swimmingly so far. I was wondering if you would like to meet up at some point this week? (As friends- I'm aware of you and Pike.) I am free anytime.
Do not feel obliged to reply. Pass my regards onto your parents.
- Draco.
02/08/97
He seals the envelope, satisfied with the dignified yet somewhat dry letter. Ulysses happily takes the letter in its beak. Draco opens the window and lets it fly out to Daphne.
The warm summer air brushes against his face as he walks down to the shack at the bottom of the gardens. It's become a little hidey-hole, an escape from the suffocating memories that go along with Malfoy Manor. His father is barely speaking to him: their relationship has been strained ever since the end of May when he became a Death Eater. So, Draco sits alone in the muddy alcove and closes his eyes.
When he returns to the manor a few hours later, Ulysses is perched at the window with an envelope in its beak. It looks like Daphne has replied. He tears open the letter.
Dear Draco,
(Your owl is staring me down right now I'm kind of scared). Blink twice if you're being held at gunpoint (joking but what was the deal with that letter?) I'd love to meet up but my parents aren't too keen on me going back to your place, apparently you're too 'involved' with the Dark Lord. didn't have a problem with that six months ago but oh well.
Pansy is having a get together this week so it would be pure conceidience (sorry I can't spell) for you to stumble upon it and tag along. It's on Wednesday noon at Diagon Alley and so far it's me, Pansy and Crabbe (she has a thing for him I can't possibly see why) and maybe Millicent.
Don't even mention Pike, he hasn't even got in touch with me yet? It's been a whole week I don't know what he's waiting for.
How's your holidays going, been up to anything?
P.S. My holidays have been going swimmingly thanks but I can't tell if that was a pun to that time we went swimming in Feburary or not.
- Buckets of love, Daphne xx
02/08/97
Draco smiles as he reads through it in Daphne's voice. He imagines her pulling a face on opening his formal letter, rolling her eyes then scribbling out the response. He gets out his quill and starts to formulate a reply.
Dear Daphne,
Sorry about that one, I didn't know the level of formality we were going for in letters. The get-together sounds great, I'll see you on Wednesday if all goes to plan. Maybe Pike is just busy? Also can I invite Blaise along?
The holiday is not going great, I've been stuck in Malfoy Manor doing fuck all with the only people to speak to being my parents. What about you?
And no, there was no pun intended but very funny.
- Draco x
02/08/97
He hands it to his owl, stroking its head. "Sorry," he mutters. "Lots of flying, I know."
The evening draws to a close, so he decides to call it a day and wraps himself under the duvet.
In the morning, Ulysses is sitting on the little balcony outside Draco's window with another letter in its beak.
Dear Draco,
It reads. Draco's frown relaxes as he recognises the rounded font.
I've been practicing doing potions with my sister and that's pretty much it. It's been alright, nice to finally have a break from school.
Pike being busy my arse, he's got the social life of a 90 yr old widow without me, but yes please do invite Blaise (maybe he can stop us from third wheeling the entire time).
See you Wednesday x
- Daphne xx
03/08/97
He writes a short letter to Blaise copying over the details of the meet up and gives it to Ulysses to send.
Draco clutches his jacket around him as he does something between a walk and a jog down Diagon Alley and to the Leaky Cauldron. He's already ten minutes late thanks to his father suddenly lecturing him on the 'right sorts of people to be hanging around with'. He rounds the corner and sighs with relief as he catches a glimpse of Crabbe through the grimy windows of the Leaky Cauldron.
The inside of the room is filled with background noise and smoke is hanging in the air. Most of the people sitting around the edges of the room are balding middle-aged men enjoying a pint. Then there's Pansy's group, chatting around the central table with frothy glasses of butterbeer.
"Hi, Draco," Daphne says, standing up to hug him. "Good to see you."
Pansy and Crabbe are sitting around the table and give him various grunted hellos.
"Blaise didn't show then?"
"Yeah, he did," she says. "He's gone outside for a minute, he doesn't like it in here."
"It certainly has an atmosphere to it."
"That's for sure." She glares at Crabbe and Pansy. "I'm glad you came so I'm not stuck here watching these two grope each other the whole time."
"We can hear you," says Crabbe, folding his arms.
"I know."
"Draco, what colour would you say my hair is?" Pansy asks. "Because Crabbe said it was brown, but it's blonde right?"
"See what I've had to put up with?" Daphne rolls her eyes.
"Shut up, Daphne. Draco. Brown or blonde?"
"It's brown," Crabbe says.
"I don't know," Draco shrugs. "It looks brown to me, but I would say that wouldn't I?"
"Told you so."
"Biased judge," Pansy sniffs.
"I'm going to see if I can find Blaise," Draco says, making an effort not to retch as Pansy giggles at Crabbe playing with her hair.
"Count me in," Daphne says. "You two come outside when you're done doing whatever the fuck this."
"Will do," Pansy says, giving her the middle finger.
They exit the stuffy tavern and go back out onto the cobbled streets.
"He was just around here-"
"Blaise," Draco exclaims, spotting Blaise in the entrance to a back alley, easily recognisable from their thick nose ring and shaved head. "There they are."
Blaise's eyes light up as she spots Daphne and Draco coming over.
"Hello," it says.
"Hey, Blaise," says Draco. "You alright?"
"Yes, thank you. Are you?"
"I'm all good," he nods. "It's nice to get out."
"Fuck off," Daphne gasps, fixing her eyes on something behind the other two.
"What?"
"That's not Harry bloody Potter, is it?"
"Oh, you're kidding," Draco groans. "Why the fuck is he here on the exact same day as us?"
"It looks like he's been shopping," Blaise points out, catching a glimpse of a large bag he's carrying through the crowds of people.
"Smarmy prick," Draco mutters.
Harry looks straight at him, either by chance or otherwise, and his smile drops. To Draco's dismay, he starts walking over.
"Piss off, Potter," Daphne says as he comes into hearing distance.
He pays her no attention and goes straight up to Draco, facing him no more than a metre away.
"Why did you help us?" he asks, his voice loaded with confused accusation.
"What are you talking about?" Blaise says, but Draco knows precisely what he's talking about- the trio's capture and short stay at Malfoy Manor, Draco's mouth kept firmly shut, going out of his way to help them.
"You didn't have to," Harry says. "You told me to stun you rather than let us be captured, and you gave me your wand. You basically risked everything. Why would you do that?"
"I didn't do it for you," Draco says through gritted teeth, without thinking through his words properly. He's furious at him for bringing this up in front of Blaise and Daphne, as good as humiliating him.
"Who was it for then?" Harry asks. "For Hermione? For Ron?"
"Do you want to know something, Potter?" Draco says viciously. "The problem with you Gryffindors is that you think no one else on this planet has any fucking morals other than yourselves. Now just because I don't cry when I step on a bug like you do, doesn't mean I enjoy seeing someone I've known since I was eleven get tortured into unconsciousness in my fucking dining room."
"Don't act like-"
"Let me finish," Draco snaps. "I didn't protect you because I didn't want you to die, because you know what Potter, I wouldn't mind if you died, in fact, if you did I might get some bloody peace for once. Assuming you want to continue with your childish narrative of Gryffindor good Slytherin bad, then I'll entertain you; I don't care if you live or die, I saved you for myself."
Harry looks like he's biting back a very nasty insult but is somewhat satisfied by Draco bothering to give him an answer, however taunting its delivery.
"If you hate me so much then why didn't you just hand me in and have it done with?" Harry hisses, his jaw clenched. Draco just rolls his eyes. He's forgotten how easy it is to wind Potter up.
"Don't flatter yourself," Draco drawls. "If I wanted you dead, I'd have killed you myself years ago. You're not important to me Potter. Get it in your thick head that one fucking person on this planet doesn't have their life revolving around you." A lie, Draco thinks, but it sounds convincing enough. "I was saving myself the eyesore of your guts over my carpet, and my God you have a pitifully inflated image of yourself if you thought it was ever anything more. Does that answer your questions?"
"Thank you, Malfoy," Harry says sarcastically. "I'm lucky to be graced with such a moving response."
"Just fuck off, will you?" says Draco. "I came here to talk to my friends, not to have your bitch-ass up in my face for saving your pathetic life. Try grateful, it might suit you."
Draco turns on his heel and walks down the street, trusting Blaise and Daphne would follow.
"What was that all about?" Daphne says, staring at Draco once they catch up to him. Even Blaise looks confused.
"It's nothing," Draco says. "He's trying to stir things up, that's all."
"Alright," Daphne shrugs. "Tell me later if you want."
"There's nothing to tell."
"Sure there's not."
"Crabbe and Pansy are coming," Blaise says, observing the two stagger out the door of the tavern hand in hand, still gushing over each other.
"Give me strength," Daphne sighs.
"Technically those two are the third wheel now," Draco points out. "They're outnumbered."
"They seem to be enjoying themselves," says Blaise neutrally.
"You won't be saying that when they're down each other's throats while you're trying to eat," Daphne laughs, patting their shoulder as he pulls a face.
"Where are we off to now?" Pansy asks, approaching the group.
"The field behind the apothecary?" suggests Blaise.
"Sure," she says.
"Sounds like a plan."
The small party make their way down the cramped street and across to the field. Although it's well into the evening, the sun isn't close to setting, its golden rays falling upon the grass as the group chase each other to the far end of the field.
Draco closes his eyes and lets the sun hit his face. A gnawing pain from Harry's reminder doesn't stop throughout the evening. Whoever he sides with, he's letting down someone and betraying someone else. There is no winning for anyone. Least of all himself.
"Daydreaming?"
"Hm?" Draco snaps back to reality to see that Blaise has sat themselves next to him while the others continue loudly arguing about one thing or another.
"Oh, it's you," Draco says.
"Yes, it's me," Blaise replies. "Wotsit?" They hold open a packet of crisps towards him.
"No thanks," says Draco. He leans back, stretching his body out and basking in the late evening sun. "Had a nice summer so far?"
"Not really, no."
Draco gives her a look, but she doesn't elaborate, instead crunching on the last of the wotsits. "Your social skills are in the fucking gutter," he says with a laugh. "Come on, at least try and have a bit of small talk. Humour me. What have you been up to?"
"Hmm."
Blaise thinks back to what socially acceptable activities they've been doing in the last week. "I pierced my belly button."
Draco raises his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Yes. I was running out of other places so I thought might as well."
"Let's see."
Blaise lifts up their shirt to show him the small silver stud. "It hasn't got infected, so I'm quite pleased with myself."
"Yeah, it looks good," Draco nods. "Weird place to do it though."
"I'm full everywhere else," Blaise says, gesturing to their face and ears.
"You have loads of space on your ears," he says.
"I already have three on each."
"Yeah, make it four."
"Where's the fun in that?" Blaise smiles.
"Didn't it hurt?" asks Draco sceptically.
"No, I was drunk."
"You drunk-pierced your belly button?"
"Yes."
Draco laughs at this. "That explains a lot."
"Have you been doing anything?" Blaise asks, continuing the requested small talk.
"Nope," Draco says with a sigh. "This is the first time I've been out of the grounds of my house since school ended. I've been so fucking bored."
"How come?" Blaise says, fiddling with the hemming of its shirt. "Why haven't you gone shopping or flying or something?"
"My parents are being really pissy with me," Draco says. "I can't be arsed getting into an argument with them over it."
"You should come round to mine," Blaise suggests.
Draco looks up in surprise. "To yours?"
"Yeah," says Blaise. "My mum is God knows where, probably off with her new husband, so the house is empty. You should come round for a few days, then we can be bored together."
Draco considers this.
"I don't know if I'd be allowed," he says after a pause.
"Draco, you're turning eighteen in a few months," Blaise points out. "Just come round. They aren't going to come and drag you back kicking and screaming, are they?"
Draco lets out a short laugh. "I wouldn't put it past them."
Blaise looks as though he's about to launch into a pre-prepared list of all the reasons why Draco should come, so he quickly cuts into the silence.
"I'll come if you pierce my ear," he says.
Blaise grins. "Deal."
"What are you two whispering about?" Daphne says, leaning over to them as Pansy and Crabbe seem to be attempting to French kiss.
"Draco's coming over to mine for a few days," Blaise says. Draco rolls his eyes at them- no filter as per usual.
Daphne's face lights up with a sly grin. "God, finally," she says. "I thought the two of you were never going to get it off."
"Daphne," Draco exclaims as she starts laughing.
"Fucking hell, I'm joking," she says at their disapproving glares.
"We'd give it a better going than those two," Blaise mutters, staring over at Crabbe and Pansy who are awkwardly tangled up and kissing each other with more tongue than lip.
"Blaise, you're really not helping," Draco snorts. "But you do have a point. What the fuck are they trying to do exactly?"
"Kiss I think?" suggests Daphne. "I feel like I should be giving them some tips or something. It doesn't feel morally right to leave them like that."
Blaise shakes his head and turns back to Draco. "Do you want to go now?" she says.
"Now?" says Draco, then sighs wearily. "Fuck it, why not."
"Are you two going to leave me with them?" Daphne says, pulling a face.
"Do you want to get something pierced?"
"What?"
"I'm piercing Draco's ear," Blaise explains. "That's the bargain. If you want to come, I'll pierce you too."
"Oh," Daphne says with a giggle. "You pair of bloody fairies, piercing each other's ears. What next, are you gonna do each other's make up or something?"
"Next he's going to pierce my dick so later when I'm shagging them until they can't walk, they'll be able to feel me scraping against the walls of his rectum," Draco offers.
It has the desired effect because Daphne gawks at him for a second, speechless.
"Couldn't have put it better myself," says Blaise, holding back a laugh. "Cheerio Daphne. Have a good summer."
"Alright," she grumbles, glaring over at Crabbe and Pansy who look in no position close to stopping. "Leave me with these two, why don't you?"
Blaise and Draco walk back to Diagon Alley, then apparate to Blaise's house. Draco makes a mental note to write a letter to his father when he gets there. There can't be anything dramatically wrong with staying over at Blaise's for a few days. Hopefully he'll see it as a few days with Draco out of his hair.
They appear in what looks to be the main room of the house. Draco does a once over, admiring the expensive decor as they make their way upstairs.
"You never told me you were rich rich," says Draco, passing by a dozen rooms before reaching the main staircase. The place is oozing with wealth, yet there's not a servant or house elf in sight.
"I'm not," Blaise says, leading him up the stairs. "All this was paid off years ago. We don't have nearly enough money for servants and when it's bad we don't have enough for heating in winter. My mum doesn't even do food shopping anymore because she's always off somewhere else. She sends me money through the post every month and that's it."
"Oh," says Draco. "That sounds shit."
"It's not all bad," Blaise shrugs. "I spend whatever spare she gives me on getting unbelievably pissed."
"Sounds healthy."
"Yeah, well. Few years off my life won't matter."
Blaise opens one of the doors on the second floor and shows Draco into a large room. It has the most personality out of everywhere he's seen so far, various bits and pieces strewn around the floor, posters on the walls, a desk with general clutter on it, clothes spread around, a record player in the corner with stacks of vinyls surrounding it.
"I didn't imagine your room would be like this," Draco says, gazing in wonder at the plastic stars stuck on the ceiling. All of a sudden, he feels like he hardly knows his best friend at all.
"I'm not a clean freak, if that's what you mean," Blaise says. They grab two bottles off the desk and collapse into one of the purple beanbags in front of the unlit fireplace. "Do you want a drink?"
"What is it?" Draco asks, eyeing the cloudy bottle suspiciously.
"My own creation," says Blaise, flicking off the top on hers. "Vodka with a bit of lemonade or something. It might be orange juice, actually."
Draco nestles into the other beanbag, finding the ambience of the messy room strangely comforting. The sun is almost fully down by now, and the only light source comes from candles attached sporadically to the wall, setting the room into a dim orange glow.
Blaise takes a long swig of xeir drink, handing Draco the other bottle.
"I think I'll give it a miss," says Draco. "I'm not a big fan of alcohol. Makes me depressed."
"Suit yourself."
"Can I use some paper to write to my father?" Draco says, watching them down their drink at an alarmingly fast rate.
"Yes," says Blaise, looking perfectly content on her beanbag, drink in hand. "Paper's in the draw."
Draco finds the paper and scribbles out a quick note to inform his father of his whereabouts, then gives it to Blaise's owl who swoops off with it.
Draco tries to count the stars on the ceiling but loses track around thirty-five.
"Is this where you bring all your one-night stands?" he teases.
"No, I use the room next door," says Blaise, cracking into a smile. "I don't let any old slut in here, you know."
"Why the hell am I here then?"
"Ear thing," Blaise says, waving a finger to his ear. The alcohol already seems to be taking its toll, xer speech looser than normal.
"Are you going to let me pierce your gay ear or are you still trying to kid people into thinking you sleep with women and enjoy it?" Blaise says with a snort, looking between Draco's left ear with a small collection of studs and rings on and untouched right ear.
"I was thinking up here," Draco says, ignoring him and pointing to the left ear between his highest and second-highest piercing.
"Yeah, okay," she says, getting up to grab a piercing set lying haphazardly on the floor. "You sure I can't tempt you with a nose or tongue piercing or something a little more interesting?"
"I'm sure."
Once Blaise has successfully pierced Draco's ear, they sit and chat well into the night, Blaise getting increasingly drunker and giving more and more open responses to Draco's questions. Draco has to restrain himself from embracing his Slytherin nature and asking Blaise things they most definitely will regret answering in the morning.
"I'm going to bed," Blaise eventually mumbles, dragging themselves over to the bed in the corner. "If you want a bed you gotta sleep next door."
"What, in the bed you've been slutting around in for God knows how long?" Draco scoffs. "No thank you."
"Have I ever told you," they start with a dazed grin, words slurred, "how fucking annoying you are?" With that, they sink resolutely into bed.
Draco rolls his eyes at Blaise's standard charm in action. He curls up on the floor on the comfiest part of the carpet, rests his bed on the beanbag, and goes to sleep.
Draco is woken up by a quiet but consistent humming coming from somewhere. He sits up, taking his sore neck off the purple beanbag, then remembers agreeing to stay with Blaise for the night.
"You woke me up, dickhead," he says, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and looking at Blaise facing their mirror.
When Blaise turns around, Draco takes a few blinks to register the relatively plain school kid as whatever the fuck has possessed his body overnight. He's got a blend of black and violet eyeshadow on, unfilled long wings of eyeliner, dark lipstick, and the white T-shirt has been replaced by a black button-down tucked into baggy high waisted jeans, and if that wasn't extravagant enough, they're wearing chunky
laced boots to top it off.
Blaise catches Draco staring, speechless, and can't help but grin.
"Which slur do you think Daphne would call me if I came to school like this?" he says, hooking her thumbs into her belt loops.
"What the fuck Blaise?" Draco says, squinting to get a good look. "You look so... different."
"I look hot," Blaise says, readjusting her nose piercing.
"Yeah, well, you could say that."
"I look fuckable," Blaise continues, smirking at themselves in the mirror, satisfied with the eye makeup. "No wonder I'm such a bloody slut, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off myself either."
"Fucking hell, calm your ego," Draco scoffs. "I'm sure many people can restrain themselves quite easily."
Blaise does a little spin, kicking some clothes to the side. "Not you though," they say with a smug smile, knowing exactly how to wind Draco up.
"As you already know, I'm in a relationship," Draco says, not rising to the bait.
"But if you weren't."
"How desperate are you for validation?"
"I don't need your validation to tell me I'm hot, because I already know it."
"You're not my type."
"Bullshit."
"You're too, what's the word?" Draco muses, scratching his chin. "Oh yes. Fucking annoying."
"Fuck you."
"You wish."
Draco dodges the sock thrown at him, grinning wildly.
"You've got a letter from your dearest papa," Blais says, noticing her owl with a letter at its feet. "Probably telling you to stop being such a faggot and drooling over your best mate with some eyeliner on."
"Shut up and give it here," Draco says, a dull concern in the back of his throat for how his father has reacted to his latest venture. Blaise tosses him the letter, and he tears it open.
Only two lines.
Draco.
Return to Malfoy Manor with immediate effect.
It's not signed off, but Draco recognises his father's rough handwriting.
Blaise peers over expectantly. "What does it say?"
"It says 'return to Malfoy Manor with immediate effect'," Draco quotes.
Blaise pulls a face. "That's cold," he says. "At least he doesn't sound mad at you."
"I guess so," says Draco, rereading the letter one last time before ripping it up and throwing it onto the fire's stone-cold ambers. "I should go back."
Blaise's smile fades. "Okay."
"Come round again any time you want," Blaise says on the way back down to the hall where Draco can apparate from. "Write me a letter, turn up one day, whatever suits you."
Draco can't help but feel his tone sounds slightly pleading.
"I don't think I'll be able to come back if I'm honest," he says. "Unless I make a run for it."
"Well, you know where I am," says Blaise. "In this fucking house every fucking day."
"Whoring yourself out to anyone who gives you a second glance," Draco adds with a smirk.
"That too," Blaise nods. "Sex and drinking, what a physically and emotionally sound way to spend the six weeks."
"At least you look hot while you're doing it."
Blaise grins at his attempt to lighten the mood. "Aha," ze says. "So you admit that I'm hot."
Draco rolls his eyes. "Sure."
Blaise bounces up and down in celebration. "Knew it."
They get to the main hall's fireplace, and Draco stands ready to apparate back to his house. Well, not exactly ready. The letter from his father gave him no bearing on what his reaction will be when he returns, and to what level he's pissed him off.
"If you break up with your..." Blaise tails off, trying to think of an appropriately ungendered term for boyfriend that isn't as formal as partner without resorting immediately to whore, slut, or bitch.
"Boyfriend," Draco reluctantly mutters. He knows Ron doesn't mind being called that, but to say it aloud to Blaise feels he's given in. And it annoys him because Blaise's smile grows even wider.
"This feels like progress," Blaise says. "Finally you're taking a running jump out of that closet. Good for you."
"Says the one with fucking eyeliner on," Draco retorts.
"Glad you like it," ze says, fluttering their lashes. "Anyway, if you break up with your boyfriend, you know where I am."
"Oh yes, the first thing I'll do after I break up will be to come and get shagged by you on your slut bed," Draco as sarcastically.
"I can't wait," Blaise says. "Enjoy the rest of your holidays, I suppose."
"You suppose, fuck off."
Draco takes his wand out, preparing himself for the apparition. "Have fun with your sex and alcohol."
"I absolutely will."
"I'll see you at school next probably."
Blaise leans on the fireplace's frame and gives him a lazy wave. "See you." A second later, she's standing alone in her house, staring at an empty fireplace.
It's dark when Draco arrives at Malfoy Manor. He took a few detours on the way, savouring the freedom while he can.
"Where's my father?" Draco demands one of the staff hanging around the foyer.
"His room, sir."
Draco stomps up to Lucius' bedroom, bracing himself to be insulted, interrogated, screamed at, even to be hit, although he's certain that he has to do something more drastic than an unplanned sleepover to get himself hit nowadays.
"Father?" he calls, knocking on the door to the room. Maybe he's already asleep. "Dad? I'm back."
Just as Draco turns to walk away, thanking the world for small mercies, the door clicks open.
"Oh, hi," Draco says as Lucius stands there in his usual black robes, bags under his eyes and looking like he hasn't slept for days.
"Explain," Lucius orders, the strained word coming out of his mouth in a scratchy snarl.
"Blaise asked if I wanted to stay over at his for the night and I said yes." Draco doesn't know if there is much more to explain.
Lucius gives a long sigh, looking positively furious, but his tone betrays no anger, just exhaustion, like Draco has run him to the ground.
"My house is not a hotel," he says. "Do you think I have time to be worrying about you when I'm working myself into an early grave so the Dark Lord doesn't snap veir fingers one day and kill us all?" His eyes crinkle with fatigued disappointment. "You're staying put for the rest of the holidays. Now go to bed."
Draco opens his mouth to speak, to utter an apology, to ask why the hell he wasn't angry, to protest the punishment, but nothing comes out. He walks back to his room, feeling dejected and small.
He does as his father told him, wraps himself under the duvet, and closes his eyes.
It's nearing two weeks since he last saw Ron and his heart aches for him more than ever before, more than he thought was possible. He longs for their soft touch and their laugh to light up the room so badly it hurts. It's so incredibly lonely all by himself.
He pulls one of the pillows from underneath his head out and hugs it tightly, imagining it's Ron lying asleep with him instead of being alone in the dark, empty room. In less than a minute, he's asleep, the pillow held against his chest for the rest of the night.
"Fred, I'm not falling for it." Ron's shout is muffled by the duvet they hide under. He heard someone, presumably Fred, come into their room about ten seconds ago, no doubt to set up another prank.
They've been doing this every day of the holidays, Fred and George, to entertain themselves.
Ron burrows themselves deeper into the covers.
"We're going in five minutes," he hears Ginny shout from the bottom of the stairs, followed by a loud banging.
"Wake up," Harry says. The noise increases and seems to reverberate through the house.
"Fuck me, what is that noise?" Ron says with a theatrical groan, pulling the covers off.
"Ron, get your arse up, we're going on a family outing right now," George shouts from outside his door, banging on it twice.
"George, don't swear," Molly Weasely yells from downstairs. "Everyone get to the front door, shoes on, we're going. Family outing, come on, chop-chop."
Harry grins at Ron's dishevelled hair sticking out at every angle.
"Have fun with that one," he says.
Ron doesn't have the energy to glare at him as throws on a jumper. "Isn't she making you come?"
"I don't think so. It's a family outing, after all."
"Nah, you're not getting out of it that easy."
"Mum, where are we going?" Ron shouts downstairs as he pulls on socks and careers down the stairs at full speed. "Can Harry come?"
"You'll see when we get there, and yes, Harry's coming," says Molly, checking through her backpack a third time.
"Fred, piss off," Ginny squeals as he knocks her bag onto the floor by dashing past to chase after George.
"Ginny, watch your mouth," Molly says sternly. "Okay, come on everyone, out the door, out we get. Have we got everyone?"
She does a quick headcount, then opens the door satisfied with the number of red-headed children counted, and they head off outside.
Parallel to Ron's misadventures, Draco does the opposite, constrained to the manor for the next five weeks. He settles for sending letters back and forth to Blaise, tiring his owl out, while Blaise sits alone, drinks, fucks whoever wants it, and occasionally lingers in the main hall staring at the empty fireplace in the distant hope that Draco will reappear.
It's not long for Ron, but arduously long for Draco, until they're packing their suitcases up for the start of their last year at Hogwarts.