Draco's out of bed.Warnings:
The boys belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.Author’s Notes:
An angstier take on Ron is Draco’s parole officer
, written for the insomnia
prompt at rondracodrabble
Ron opened his eyes, instantly awake. He didn’t know what had woken him, though grey, early-mrning light filtered through the curtains his mum had sewn him. His clock said it was just past five.
He got up in perfect silence – he might not be an Auror any more, but he still had the skills – and checked Malfoy’s little room. The bed was empty.
Ron stole downstairs, wand in hand. Malfoy had better not be trying to escape his custody; he’d be sent back to Azkaban if he did, and the Dementors were a lot less forgiving than wizard parole officers.~*~
Malfoy was in the sitting room, standing at the window. He was hugging himself as he stared out into the foggy street. He looked frozen, but his eyes were moving, his face pale but animated; as if he were looking at something
, but not something Ron could see.
“Draco.” The name dropped unbidden from his lips at the sight before him: at Malfoy too thin in his second-hand pyjamas. (He’d slept naked rather than use his prison duds, and Ron hadn’t been able to deal with it.)
Malfoy didn’t turn around. Ron moved towards him, and said his name again.~*~
Malfoy’s only reaction was to clench his arms around himself. He was too thin; his shoulderblades were too obvious, his elbows pointed enough to hurt. They stuck out awkwardly, like the wings of a damaged bird, as he hugged himself.
Ron reached out, and Malfoy spun. His face was grey; his pallor not the creamy one natural to him, but the complexion of someone who’d spent far too long inside, someone whose health was distinctly precarious. Ron had thought he was used to it; but with that expression, Malfoy’s glittering eyes were the only way to know he was alive.~*~
For a moment, Ron felt unable to speak. Malfoy did it first.
Ron would’ve expected Malfoy to sound dreamy, or confused, or vulnerable; something that matched his expression, that asked for help. But he sounded almost as prickly as usual, like he was about to complain of Ron bothering him.
“Yeah,” he said, playing for time. “Er, I woke up and wondered where you’d gone. You weren’t in your room.”
Malfoy’s face – clenched, somehow. “I was just looking outside, not running off.”
“I know.” Ron raised his hands.
Silence. Ron retreated from the standoff, and went back to bed.
Continued in Abandoned Hope