Chapter 2: In Which Draco arrives at the Weasleys

Draco was feeling at his all-time low. He had just endured a long lecture from his father about being extremely careful about his powers. On top of that, he kept imagining the Weasleys' home as Hagrid's hut, or a hole in the ground. It was illogical, but he could not help it.

Draco said goodbye to his parents, threw some Floo Powder into the fireplace, stepped in, and said 'the Burrow'. He could actually, of course, just appear in front of the Weasleys' house, but it would have raised some awkward questions since he was not allowed to Apparate yet.

Draco stumbled out of the fireplace and found himself face-to-face with five of the Weasleys. Arthur and Molly Weasley had smiles on their faces to welcome Draco. Percy, Fred and George's smiles were rather strained.

The full impact of what Draco was facing hit him then. He would be spending more than a month with this bunch of redheads, in a house probably no bigger than his drawing room, with no company but that accursed Ron Weasley. It could not get any worse.

He was wrong.

Ron Weasley, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had just entered the kitchen.

Draco groaned inwardly.

"Welcome to the Burrow, Draco," Mrs. Weasley said warmly. Draco managed a faint smile, trying hard not to smirk. This family would be his source of food and shelter for the upcoming weeks and he supposed he had better be civilized to them. "Ron, show Draco where he's going to sleep, will you?" then she addressed Draco. "You'll have to sleep in Ron's room with Harry, Draco."

Draco heaved his trunk over to Ron, who turned and stomped up the stairs. The house, from what Draco could see, was not as bad as he thought it would be. The kitchen was rather small with just two armchairs and no couches.

Draco climbed the stairs, right behind Harry, Ron and Hermione. Draco had just finished the fourth flight of stairs and was wondering how long he would still have to go, when they climbed the last flight and came to a door with peeling paint. A plaque on it said 'Ronald's Room'.

Draco entered the room and blinked. Its walls were covered head to toe in Chudley Cannon posters. The room had a sloping ceiling and was, if possible, smaller than the kitchen. The kitchen had already been less than half the area of Draco's bedroom. This was less than a quarter.

Ron pointed to one of the two sleeping bags on the floor. "You'll have to sleep in that."

Draco did not acknowledge the statement. He set his trunk on the floor. Ron's bed was in a corner of the room. There was a sleeping bag next to the bed. The other sleeping bag was situated as far away as possible.

Draco gestured to the posters. "Your Quidditch team."

"Yeah." Ron waited for Draco to tell him his, but he did not.

Suddenly there was a loud 'bang'.

Draco, startled, looked up, the source of the noise all too apparent.

"That's the ghoul in the attic," Ron explained, feeling more and more downcast. Draco would use what he had seen here to tease him at school, he was sure of it. "He drops pipes and things when he feels like it."

"You should get rid of it," Draco said indictively. Now not only did he have to stay here, he had to have a ghoul with him as well.

"How?" Ron demanded.

"Owl the exterminator. Problem solved." Something occurred to Draco then. "I thought this stupid summer program was between different Houses. Why are you two bozos here?"

Harry started, and Ron opened his mouth to say something, but thought the better of it. Instead he just shrugged. "Beats me. We're having dinner in ten minutes in the garden. I'm sure you can find your way there." Ron, Harry and Hermione left the room, leaving Draco to his own thoughts.

Six weeks in this bloody, wretched place, Draco thought miserably. Six weeks of constant contact with those three. . .Draco sighed. This is going to be a bloody nightmare.

*                    *                    *                    *                    *

Wormtongue cowered under the penetrating, evil red eyes that beheld him. Nevertheless, he delivered the news that he knew would bring his Master into a rage.

"He is under the care of Arthur Weasley, Lord," Wormtongue said.

"What?" Lord Voldemort started to raise his wand, but then decided not to. Instead, he smiled. It was an evil grin that turned Wormtongue's backbone into jelly. "No matter. He is not with family. . .and when I attack. I will kill Albus Dumbledore's most precious confidant, Arthur Weasley, his family and, of course, the boy. There might even be a double kill. . ."

A Death-Eater stepped forward. "Lord, I think it is clear that someone must have informed Dumbledore about your. . .intention."

"You mean a traitor," the cold voice stated. "He will be found. I already know who it is."

*                    *                    *                    *                    *

"More pancakes for Draco, Molly dear!" Arthur Weasley called, setting two more on Draco's plate. Mr. Weasley had insisted on Draco sitting next to him at breakfast. Draco had complied, unwillingly. Then Mr. Weasley had piled all sorts of food on Draco's plate with the intention of 'fattening him up'. Draco did not need 'fattening up'. He liked being slim. He did enjoy the attention, though.

"Mr. Weasley, I really can't eat any more," Draco said politely but firmly. "I'm not a bug breakfast eater and this is all really too much! You're wasting Mrs. Weasley's delicious pancakes on me, I really can't eat another bite." Draco would usually never have admitted anything cooked by a Weasley was good, but it wouldn't hurt to curry some favour, would it? It seemed to be working, anyhow.

"He's right, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said, glowing a bit at the praise. "I personally think ten pancakes is too much." Five were still on Draco's plate. He had made two of them disappear and the other three were in his stomach.

Harry and Ron shared a look. Ron's eyes voiced the same question Harry's bore; why is Dad being so nice to Malfoy? As far as both of them knew, Mr. Weasley had never liked the Malfoys and thought Draco was a spoilt brat. He had even gone so far to say that were Draco his son, he would have knocked some sense into him long ago. Now Mr. Weasley was spoiling Draco. It was baffling.

"Are you sure you don't want more?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Very sure, Mr. Weasley, thank you." Draco did not know why Mr. Weasley was being so nice, but he enjoyed being fussed over, so he was not complaining.

Since when has he been so polite? Harry wondered. The Malfoy he had seen had never been as polite as this. Since when has he not minded Mr. Weasley? Draco had insulted Ron's father so many times Harry had lost count. Very odd, Harry decided.

"Malfoy probably realizes how important it is to be civilized to us," Ron said when Harry had voiced his thoughts after breakfast. "We can decide whether to give him food or not."

"Surely you wouldn't do that?" Hermione asked, frowning. "I know he's Malfoy and all---"

"Course not!" Ron scoffed. "Though I wish we could. Imagine what we could make him do. . ."

"His father would probably sue you," Harry said. " 'Blackmailing our son: one thousand Galleons'."

Mrs. Weasley popped her head in. She was frowning. "Ron, where are your manners? Leaving Draco down in the kitchen all alone. . .he offered to wash the dishes, you know." She said this in a you-should-follow-his-example kind of voice, then continued, "He did more harm than good, but it is the thought that matters, after all."

Draco entered the room, a smirk on his face. He sauntered over to his trunk and was about to open it with a flick of his wrist, but fortunately remembered where he was in time.

"What are you trying to do? Gain my parents' favour?" Ron asked heatedly. "Don't waste your time. They think you're a lost cause."

"Really? Then why was your father all over me during breakfast?" Draco unlocked his trunk, opened it, took out the book he had bought a few days ago, and, ignoring the three, began to read.

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