Back to Chapter 1: Expect the Unexpected

Standard disclaimers apply. See previous chapter if you�re all that interested.

You don't know why they had to go this far,
Traded your worth for these scars,
For your only company.
And don't believe the lies that they have told to you.
Not one word was true
You're alright, you're alright, you're alright.

Ron was unable to sleep a wink that night, or early morning, as it were. After having the door practically slammed in his face, he slowly made his way back to his room and again lay in bed, lost in thought, until he heard his parents stirring. Realising he may be able to winkle some information from his father, and eager to finally have something to do�as solving a mystery and perhaps uncovering a spy were definitely more productive than anything he had done so far during this summer holiday�Ron hurriedly showered, dressed and clambered downstairs.

Arthur Weasley was sitting at the dining room table, the Daily Prophet in one hand and buttered toast in the other. He noticed Ron entering. �You�re up early, son.�

�Yeah,� Ron replied, plopping down in the seat next to his father and procuring a slice of toast for himself.

�Since you�re here, though, I must impress upon you the seriousness of this situation. I�m sorry, Ron, but I have to ask that you refrain from telling Harry or Hermione about Draco�s presence here.�

Ron sighed and rested his chin in his hand, disappointed but not surprised. Why is it that all the truly interesting things that happen must always be kept secret? Ron supposed it would be up to him to find out what happened to Malfoy, and if necessary, stop any evil plot he may have up his silk sleeve. It would be difficult without Hermione�s quick logic and Harry�s gift for stumbling across important information, but Ron was excited to have this puzzle to solve on his own.

So, Ron munched on his toast and eagerly waited for Malfoy to make an appearance. The morning progressed, and his father went to work. Unfortunately, Malfoy didn�t come downstairs. His brothers and sister broke their fast as well, and went off to do whatever it was they did during the day. Still Malfoy didn�t leave his room. However, Ron did see his mother taking a bowl of soup upstairs.

When she returned, Ron looked at her expectantly. �So, how�s Malfoy?�

�He�s still a bit traumatised, the poor dear.�

Ron made a face. Malfoy was neither poor, nor a dear. But knowing his mother would close up if he started insulting �the poor dear,� Ron composed his face and asked politely, �What happened to him?�

�I think that�s a story for him to tell, Ron. But I�m sure you can imagine what his home life is like�� Molly shook her head.

Ron made a non-committal sound in response. He supposed he wouldn�t put it past Malfoy, Sr., to abuse his own son. Realising he had spent hours at the dining room table, Ron moved to the sitting room, and choosing a chair facing the stairs, flipped leisurely through a Quidditch strategy book.

Hours passed and with still no sign of Malfoy, Ron decided to take the initiative. His mother was bustling around the kitchen, so he asked, �Mum, do you want me to see if Malfoy needs anything?�

�Oh, Ron, how kind of you. Bring down his soup bowl if he�s finished, and tell him lunch will be ready soon.�

�Sure, Mum!� Ron answered as he hurried up the stairs.

Malfoy was sitting up in bed, staring out the window, when Ron slowly opened the door.

He cleared his throat. �So, you�ve chosen the side of the Light, have you, Malfoy?� Ron threw out there, eager to see what Malfoy would make of it.

�Go away, Weasley.� Not much, apparently.

Rolling his eyes, Ron answered, �You�re not king of this castle. This is my home, and I�m not going anywhere.�

And with that, he boldly sat at the corner of the bed and crossed his arms. It was then that he noticed the soup bowl on the floor by the bed, untouched. �You didn�t eat,� Ron pointed out.

�What of it?� Malfoy snapped, his voice slightly hoarse.

�I�m sure my parents wouldn�t wish for you to starve to death under their own roof,� Ron replied, his tone indicating that he didn�t much care whether Malfoy starved or not. �I also don�t want my Mum�s feelings to be hurt by your refusing to eat her food.�

�I�ll do as I wish,� Malfoy responded haughtily. He was sitting up straighter in bed, his nose upturned slightly, but any attempt to look lordly was marred by his still-healing face.

Ron frowned, and then with a sudden thought, grinned maliciously. �I can force-feed you, you know.�

�You wouldn�t dare,� Malfoy hissed, his eyes narrowing into slits.

Ron gave him a hard look. �Don�t tempt me.�

�Listen, Weasley, it wasn�t my choice to seek asylum at your humble abode.�

�Oh, I�m sure it wasn�t,� Ron replied, his interest in uncovering the truth for once overpowering his instinct to respond to Malfoy�s insults. And realising Malfoy was just trying to divert his attention, Ron was forced to satisfy himself with clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. �But you�re still stuck here, so you�re going to have to get used to it, and to us.�

Malfoy looked away.

�Do you want to talk about what happened? It must have been hard for you,� Ron said softly, trying a different tactic. Sitting surrounded by crisp white sheets, white-blonde hair slightly tousled and wearing what looked like a pair of Ron�s own old pyjamas, Malfoy looked much younger and almost�vulnerable. Ron mentally shook himself.

�What do you know about it?� Malfoy looked as though he was trying to remain unconcerned, but wasn�t entirely succeeding. Ron could see the slight panic in the Slytherin�s cold grey eyes.

�I have a brain, Malfoy...�

Malfoy snorted, muttering, �Could have fooled me.�

��and I do use it on occasion,� Ron continued as if Malfoy hadn�t interrupted. �No one told me anything, if that�s what you�re worried about, but there aren�t many explanations for why you�re not recovering with your own family.�

�No, I don�t suppose there are,� Malfoy said quietly.

There was a moment of silence.

�Well, if you�re smart, you�ll try eating something. Unless, of course, you�d rather my mother forced it down your throat,� Ron said, slightly amused at that thought.

�Fine,� Malfoy replied wearily, reaching over the side of the bed to awkwardly lift the bowl.

�Here,� Ron said, getting up to help keep Malfoy from spilling soup on the sheets. Their fingers brushed along the sides of the bowl and Ron quickly raised his head to look into�

�grey eyes reflecting fury. �You dare defy me?�

Ron gasped, blinking rapidly, his eyes darting around the room. The bright room. Percy�s room. In the Burrow. He was in the Burrow.

�Something the matter, Weasley?� Malfoy looked slightly worried, though he tried to conceal it.

Ron rubbed his eyes and shook his head in an effort to banish those disturbing images from his mind. �N-no,� he answered quickly, getting his breathing under control. �Nothing.�

Malfoy gave Ron a dubious look, but let the comment pass, instead picking up his spoon and testing the soup. He wrinkled his pointed nose. �Cold.�

�Well, it wouldn�t be if you ate it, oh, three hours ago,� Ron replied, relieved at the change of subject.

Malfoy gave a half-hearted sneer, but continued to eat quietly.

Twenty minutes later, Ron left the room with an empty soup bowl and a bemused expression on his face at the fact that he just had a halfway-civilised conversation with Draco Malfoy.

Author�s Note: Song lyrics from �Simon� by Lifehouse.