Back to Chapter 2: See the Unseen

Disclaimer from Chapter 1 still applies (i.e., I own nothing)

And must I now begin to doubt,
Who never doubted all these years?
My heart is stone and still it trembles
The world I have known is lost in shadow.

If Malfoy is a spy, Ron mused, he�s doing a lousy job at infiltration.

Ron spent the last few days bringing Malfoy his meals, as he gave no indication that he wished to leave his room. The bruises had since faded away, and the twin scars on his cheek and jaw were not too noticeable, so Ron felt there was no further reason for Malfoy to seclude himself from the world. His father wasn�t likely to search for him at the Burrow, that was certain.

Fred, George and Ginny never mentioned their unexpected visitor, which led Ron to wonder if they even knew he was staying with them. While it made Ron a bit excited to know information only his parents were privy to, it was quickly becoming annoying having to trudge up and down the stairs, playing house-elf to Malfoy.

So, after the third day of conveying a tray of Molly Weasley delectables, cajoling Malfoy to eat (which he sometimes did�eventually), and having otherwise not-quite-pleasant discussions, Ron simply stopped requesting to help. Since he had been such a helpful son over the past few days, his mother agreed that Ron needed a break from dealing with the sometimes-prickly Slytherin and took up Malfoy�s breakfast tray herself.

After his own breakfast, Ron returned to his room. Stretching out on his stomach in bed and using a Divination book as a makeshift table, he started scribbling a letter to Harry.

�You know, your room is ghastly.�

Ron looked up to see Malfoy standing awkwardly in the doorway. �The Cannons are the best!� he said defensively. �So, they may have hit a tiny slump. Just you wait, Malfoy. Soon, the Cannons will start winning, and then you�ll change your tune.�

�The Cannons winning, which I must say is doubtful, won�t make these walls any less blinding,� Malfoy said, squinting.

Ron shrugged. �And how�s the invalid?�

�I�m alive. Walking, as you see. Breathing, too.� Malfoy frowned. �I didn�t see you this morning.�

�No, you didn�t,� Ron replied equably and continued writing. �How�d you know where my room was?�

�Your mother told me where you were.� Sighing, Malfoy admitted, �You�re the only one in this house with whom I can have a halfway decent conversation�and I cannot believe I just said that.�

Ron, who had dropped his quill in shock at that surprising confession, choked out a laugh. �Neither can I.�

�This doesn�t mean we�re friends, Weasley.�

�Whatever, Malfoy.�

Malfoy looked a little lost leaning against the doorframe, so Ron took pity on him. �So, are you coming in or going out?�

If possible, Malfoy looked more indecisive. It was only at that moment when Ron truly realised how traumatic this situation must be for Malfoy�first being attacked by his father, and then immediately forced to live with a family he always looked down upon. He must feel quite out of his depth. Sighing, Ron folded his letter and slid it into the front cover of the book before setting the book aside. �Well, it�s a nice day. I say we go outside.�

�In these?� Malfoy indicated the large pyjamas hanging off his lithe frame. �Really, Weasley. While you are known for wearing just about anything in public�I mean, tawdry red dress robes complete with lace trim; what were you thinking?�I most certainly won�t.�

Ron rolled his eyes, but couldn�t deny his fashion sense could be lacking. His options weren�t exactly unlimited, and besides, only a Malfoy would turn up his nose if his sleeve cuff sported three buttons rather than five. �Fine, fine. Come on, then. We can raid my brothers� wardrobes,� he said, brushing past Malfoy, who hadn�t moved from the doorway, to lead the way down the hall to Charlie�s old room. If they didn�t find anything there, they could still try Bill�s room.

As Ron passed, he caught faint traces of a curious combination of scents. Ron suppressed a laugh. Who knew Malfoy smelled of oranges and cloves?

�I hope you don�t mean those twin brothers of yours,� Malfoy remarked from behind him.

�No, I wouldn�t set foot in their room if my life depended on it.�

Entering Charlie�s room, Ron made his way to the dresser and opened one of the top drawers. After rifling through the various items of clothing, he held up a bright red shirt with golden snitches on, asking, �How �bout this?�

�No. Just�no,� Malfoy answered vehemently.

Ron sighed and continued rummaging until Malfoy placed a hand on his arm to halt him�

�because he was running. A mile from the Manor and through a forest, away from something frightening he fled. Tears spilling down a cheek that throbbed and breathing heavily through a sore throat, he scrambled past trees, and over hills and gullies.

�No��

Ron jerked back to see Malfoy quickly back-pedalling to stand a few feet away, his hands up in a placating gesture. Ron responded quickly. �Er, sorry. You startled me.�

Malfoy again looked troubled. �Are you unwell? Not that I care or anything.�

Ron nodded hastily.

�Well then, I think I can take it from here, Weasley.�

�Right. I�ll just, uh, wait in the hall.�

Ron hurried out of the room, and leaning his back against the hallway outside, closed his eyes and allowed his head to knock against the wall. This was getting to be too much.

Well, thought Ron, at least I know Malfoy�s not a spy. Trelawney, eat your heart out.

A few minutes later, Malfoy emerged with sensible choices in trousers and shirt, though why he chose a turtleneck on a summer�s day was beyond Ron�s comprehension. Shrugging to himself, Ron followed Malfoy as he stopped back at his room to put on his shoes.

�How many members of your charming family are home?� Malfoy asked while sitting on his bed, lacing his shoes.

�Just my mother. And you can lay off the wisecracks about my family any time now, Malfoy,� Ron replied, aggravated.

Malfoy sighed, but held his tongue.

It was a rather warm day, but curiously, Malfoy did not seem to be suffering from the heat or even perspiring as they took a turn about the garden.

They had been walking with minimal conversation for a few minutes, time spent mostly with Ron pointing out various items of interest in the Burrow�s surrounding yard and the Quidditch pitch on the hill, when Malfoy stopped suddenly. Nodding towards the shed situated by the dirt road leading away from the Burrow, he asked, �What�s in there?�

�That�s our shed. We used to have a car, but we lost track of it. Now it just holds my dad�s smaller things. Random knick-knacks, most of which I don�t understand,� Ron said, neglecting to mention the fact that most were Muggle items.

Malfoy smirked and began striding in the direction of the shed. �Well, this I have to see.�

Ron unlatched the door and ushered Malfoy in. Malfoy immediately began to inspect the various contraptions and cords littering the shelves in the rickety structure, the late afternoon light spilling through the shed�s single window giving sufficient light for his explorations. Bending down to touch the buttons on the dusty microwave sitting on a low shelf, he inquired, �Do you know the function of this device, Weasley?�

Ron shrugged. �I haven�t a clue.�

Malfoy paused, then looked up sharply. �These are Muggle, aren�t they?�

Ron nodded. �Yeah, my Dad loves Muggle artefacts. Especially things which have to do with�now, what was it, again�eckeltricity. Mum thinks he�s mad.�

Malfoy mouthed the foreign term, the word forming awkwardly on his tongue. He took a moment to look again around the shed. �So, which ones do you know about?�

�In the house, we have a fellytone�er, wait�telephone that you use to speak to people over long distances. It�s like firecalling, only you can�t see the person.� Malfoy raised his eyebrows at that, only to lower them when hearing Ron continue, �I used it to talk to Harry once. A bit strange, but it worked all right, I think.�

�Hmm,� was Malfoy�s response.

The light dimming as afternoon faded into early evening, Malfoy continued to examine the contents of the shed with a curious eye, running his fingers hesitantly over this gadget and that.

It was half-six when Arthur Weasley stuck his head into the shed. �Molly told me you two were out here. She wanted me to tell you dinner will be on soon, boys.� Noticing Malfoy fiddling about with a coffeemaker, he said excitedly, �Oh! Like my artefacts, do you, Draco?�

�Yes, Mr. Weasley, they are very unique. Your son here seems to know absolutely nothing about your artefacts, however,� Draco replied, with a twitch of an eyebrow in Ron�s direction as he gave an exclaimed �Oi!� �Would you be so kind as to tell me what this does?�

And that was all the opening Arthur needed to run off on a thorough explanation of the mechanisms and utility of all the Muggle things he owned.

Ron, meanwhile, stood by, not quite sure what all the fuss was about. While he thought some of the ways Muggles found to live comfortably without magic ingenious, his interest in such things was far from his father�s obsession with all things Muggle. But it seemed that his father might have finally found someone with which to share said obsession, and the most unlikely kindred spirit imaginable. It certainly looked as though their discussions would cause them to miss dinner entirely�something that Ron was not at all interested in, growing boy that he was.

So, shaking his head in wonder, Ron left them to it.

Bounding over shrubbery on a moonlit night, his mind overflowed with the joy of the chase. Now, where was he? He raised his nose slightly into the air.

His head filled with the heady scent of his partner, of citrus and spice�

Author�s Note: Clove-studded oranges have been used throughout history to scent and purify the air. Of course a pureblooded Malfoy would want everything surrounding him to be pure. Narcissa Malfoy must have left her pomander ball at home during the Quidditch World Cup. ;-)
Song lyrics: �Javert�s Suicide� from Les Mis�rables.

Chapter 4: Touch the Untouched