Upon the departure of his godfather and cousin, Draco had headed straight up to 'his' room and stayed there for the rest of the day. He tried to avoid all the other inhabitants of Stretham Rectory as if they had the Plague and did not even bother to leave the confines of his room for mealtimes. Eating while surrounded by a bunch of Muggles held about as much charm as a day spent scraping dried flobberworm remains off the desks in the Potion's classroom.
The remainder of Draco's time was spent in bed, wrapped up tightly in the blankets he had been provided with. His attempts at remaining detached and polite in the face of both Muggles and Wizards alike were haphazard at best, and the truth of the matter was that Draco was feeling utterly overrun and not a little heartsick. So, instead of feeling awkward in the company of what he deemed his social and racial inferiors, Draco simply declined to leave his room and wallowed in homesickness.
Even with his father's current incarceration and his late mother's inability to project affection onto anything larger than a diamond bangle, he had always felt cared for at Malfoy Manor. On reflection, this might have had something to do with the fact that at any moment, he had the support of a veritable flotilla of house elves at his very beck and call, but home was home…and this was not.
Determined as he was to disparage everything and anything to do with Muggles, mudbloods, bloodtraitors and, just for safety's sake ginger people all around the world, Draco was forced to admit to himself that residence at Malfoy Manor would have been less than pleasant, empty and hollow as it had been in the time he had spent there after his mother's death. Living at the Manor, all on his own would have been like settling in for a long wait in a custom-made mausoleum.
Grimacing with aggravation at such thoughts, Draco snuggled deeper under the duvet covers, wondering idly whether it was possible for a person to suffocate in such manner and just how long it would take. Feeling inexplicably comfortable and safe in the little cave he had fashioned from his blankets, Draco pulled the pictures of his mother and uncle from where he had stashed them under his pillows.
People usually remarked upon the pronounced resemblance Draco carried to his father, but having said that, he recognize a resemblance to William Black in both his and his mother's features. Not for the first time, he wondered just how closely he was related to this man. His mother and aunt Bellatrix had never mentioned having a brother, which should not have been all that surprising, considering how the pureblooded Wizards tended to deal with Squib offspring. Nevertheless, Draco could not help but feel that had his father known about a non-magical son in the noble House of Black, none of them would ever have ceased to hear about it. And Lucius Malfoy had a way of ferreting out people's dirty little secrets.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at his bedroom door. Not waiting for his permission, the offender entered his room.
"We missed you at breakfast this morning," came the voice Draco recognised as belonging to Faith. Other than the four Muggles he had met on his first day here, Draco had not bothered to learn the names of the countless teenage girls that seemed to roam this place, giggling and whispering to each other every time they saw him.
"Not hungry," he mumbled, still safely entrenched under his blankets, and hoping that she would take the hint and bugger off. It was disgustingly rude for her to be in here without his express invitation in the first place, never mind that the house so conveniently belonged to her and her mudblood friends. She did not answer, and just as Draco began to hope that she might have left, he felt a weight settle at the foot of his bed.
"You can stay up here and sulk all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna get hungry and then you'll have to come down," she commented cheerfully, seemingly unaware of her complete lack of decorum. Draco ignored her and began mentally reciting potions ingredients in an attempt to block her out. Moments later, he felt a sharp pain in his side. The infernal woman was poking him! So shocked was he by her utter lack of manners, that Draco actually emerged from beneath his nest of blankets.
"'M not sulking," he glared at her petulantly.
"Sure you are," she replied grinned at him, halting her finger in mid air, "I teach teenage girls for a living, remember? I know the signs. Staying in your room all day, growling at people, scowling when they trespass on your territory or wish you a pleasant day - they're all classic signs of a good sulk."
Draco glared and hoped she would get the point and leave. If looks could kill, Faith would have spontaneously combusted by now.
"Aw, and now you're pouting. It'd be almost cute really; if I didn't know for a fact that your uncle owned the patent on that look. "
Caught between mild interest at hearing more about his mysterious relative, and disdain at a mudblood on his sheets, Draco closed his eyes and decided to count to twenty. Maybe by the time he opened them again, this annoying person would have left.
No such luck.
"Xander said we should leave you up here to wallow in your self pity 'til you get bored, but I reckon he has the wrong end of it. I think you want to bond with us, you're just too shy."
"Shy? Shy! Malfoy's aren't shy! It's simply impossible for me to associate with you…people!" All the anger at his current situation, that had been bubbling beneath the surface ever since he learnt of his mother's death burst to the foreground and Draco was free to splutter his protests at the dark haired young woman who was now smirking widely at him, "Let's be very clear on this, I don't want us to bond. I don't want to know anything about you, or about your disgusting little friends, or about the stupid things you get up to in your disgraceful little hovel. I don't want to share my feelings, I don't want to get to know you and most of all, I don't want to be here! So kindly get the fuck out and leave me alone! And stop fucking grinning at me!"
Never had he wanted to hex a person so much as at that very moment, confronted as he was by the smug little smile gracing Faith's features, as if this outburst had been exactly what she wanted from him.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're looking at?" he now started to scream at her in seriousness and Draco would have been quite horrified to note how truly unattractive he looked at that moment, with his face screwed up and splotchy red.
"I hate you, and I hate all your stupid little friends and I wish you'd all just -" Draco's tirade was abruptly cut short by the strong hand clapped over his mouth.
Momentarily shocked at the woman's audacity to go so far as to touch him, he merely boggled at Faith over the top of her hand. The normally easy going brunette was glaring back at Draco with an expression so fierce that somewhere in the back of his skull, untouched by rage and bigotry, tiny warning bells began to ring. Therefore, instead of pulling out his wand and hexing her five ways to Sunday - Under-age Wizardry Restrictions be damned – Draco stopped struggling and stayed quiet as Faith shoved her face closer to his.
"Let's get something straight between the two of us boyo," she hissed, and Draco could have sworn that every single hair on his body was standing to attention, "The other's may all be nice easy going people who'll cut you slack and bend over when you feel like kicking them, but I am not nice so you'd better listen to what I'm about to say to you. I don't know who you think you are and I don't particularly care. Your name and your family don't mean two shit's to me and that's final. I know you've been going through some rough stuff with your mom and all, but you're not the first person to lose someone and you sure as hell aren't going to be the last. It isn't our fault and it's not our problem. You're here because we were asked for help, so the least you can do is try and act like a person instead of walking around all snooty like and turning up your nose at everybody. I'm not asking to be to get all buddy buddy and braid hair with the rest of the girlies, but while you're staying in this house, you'll behave like a human being and give the Iceprince McScowlalot act a fucking rest." Here she removed her hand and sat back on the best, still staring straight at Draco, who's jaw was by now roughly situated around his ankles. He honestly could not remember the last time anyone had dared to speak to him like this.
Unfortunately, it seemed like Faith was not yet done, "I'm glad I've finally got your attention, blondie," she said without a trace of humour in her raspy voice, getting up from the bed and moving towards the door "Now get out of bed and take a shower, you and me are gonna go to the market."
Draco could only nod, so lost was he for words. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief that Faith had left his room, when she stuck her head around the door jamb, "One last thing…I ever hear you wish something nasty on my friends again, and you and I'll have a much shorter and far more painful conversation. Now get dressed. You've got exactly fifteen minutes or I'll come back up and drag you outside." With that, she was finally gone, leaving Draco in a horrified stupor.
Merlin, he thought stupidly before gathering himself and rushing into the shower, that woman made McGonagall on the war path seem like a fluffy little kitten! Some things were simply not worth losing limbs over, and Draco felt uncomfortably certain that Faith would have no problem following through on any threat she might chose at any point to make. Fine, he decided as needles of hot water beat mercilessly against his fair skin, he'd go on her stupid outing, he'd even be polite. Polite, but detached. Give her no reason to get angry again and that way she might leave him alone. These Muggles would soon learn that it took more than a scary little woman with powerful lungs to cower a Malfoy.
Slightly more at ease now that he had managed to reassure himself, Draco reached for his bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion which he kept carefully concealed under a stack of towels. If he really was to go out into the Muggle world, he might as well do it armed and looking his most devastatingly handsome best.