Chapter 4 Which Twin?
Draco didn't know why he was so curious about it, but it was really starting to bug him that he didn't know which twin was currently residing in the cellar. His Malfoy heritage seemed to have a voice of it's own, though, and it kept saying things like, "He's a Weasley. We're mortal enemies." "Filthy blood-traitor!" and "Poorer than dirt!"
Draco didn't understand why he cared.
It went on for a whole day. Libby must have realized there was something wrong and decided to keep quiet. Draco was constantly pacing in his room, muttering and occasionally kicking or throwing something. At one point he threw an ink-well at the wall, and then dumbly stared at the splattered black liquid that was sluggishly dripping down the pale gray. He said nothing when Libby cleaned it with a wave of her hand, and he continued to pace.
It was getting dark when he noticed the house elf turn to leave.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
Libby jumped slightly when he addressed her."Mist-triss Lest-trange ordered Libby to-to feed the blood-t-trait-tor prisoner. Libby was going t-to gather the plat-te and glass," she finally managed.
"Oh," Draco said. He hadn't thought about it, but of course Weasley had to eat. "What's he been eating?" he wondered. He was slightly curious as to whether or not all the Weasleys ate like pigs or if that was just Weasel-bee.
"What-t Mist-triss ordered. A slice of bread and t-two glasses of wat-ter.
Draco gaped at her. "A day?" he squeaked out.
Well, if he did eat like his younger brother, then Draco felt really bad for him.
Wait, he wasn't supposed to be feeling bad for the git!
But for a little over a week, for that to be his diet-?
Surprising himself, he quickly said, "I'm not
hungry this evening. I want you to bring my meal to him."
Libby looked about as surprised and shocked as he was feeling. What in Merlin's name was he doing!
Before he could change his mind though, he glared at the elf. "You heard me, now go!" He snapped. And Libby disappeared with a loud crack.
"Oh bloody hell…" he groaned. "I am such an idiot."
Fred was just settling down to try to sleep, when he heard the familiar crack! of apparition. Oh. He'd forgotten the house elf came down to take his dishes at about this time of night.
He watched her warily scoop up the dishes and then apparate away after a moment. He'd given up trying to speak to her after the first three days. She was apparently not supposed to talk to him.
He had just closed his eyes when the house elf came
back. His eyes snapped open and he stared at her.
"Why'd you come back?" he asked. And then he saw what she had with her.
Food. Real food. He could smell it. Fried chicken mashed potatoes, a biscuit with honey, green beans with cheese on it and a glass of milk.
It was at that moment Fred realized just how starved he was.
"What-why-?" he asked, not able to get a full sentence out.
The elf didn't respond, just turned on the spot and disappeared, leaving the tray of food behind.
That night, Fred slept better than he had since he'd first been there, his stomach full.
The next day, a few Death Eaters were hanging around, so Draco stayed in his room reading his already well-read books again.
He'd been arguing with himself still, about the Weasley boy.
It wasn't until later in the day, when Libby came and told him the coast was clear, that he shoved caution aside and made his way downstairs.
Weasley was awake this time. He was sitting with his back to the wall, his knees hugged by one arm, the other hidden.
He remembered himself being in that same position two nights ago. He shuddered at that memory, and tried to think of something else. And then Weasley realized he was there.
He looked really surprised to see him there. Draco wondered why.
"Malfoy? What're you doing here? Is Baldy-no-nose getting so desperate he's recruiting junior Death Eaters now?"
Draco flinched a little at that, but he quickly covered it with a sneer. "Why shouldn't I be here? I live here!"
He almost laughed at the incredulous look that appeared on the ginger's face.
"This is your house?"
"Watch it, you're drooling all over the place," he snickered.
"No-I mean-it's huge! Have you ever tried to play Quidditch in your living room?"
The question threw Draco for a moment. " Wha-Quidditch? Oh, you're talking about the Drawing Room."
It was the only place he'd been before getting dragged down here. "No, Father would never approve for one thing, but if you want to play Quidditch indoors, I can think of other places to do it." His speech ground to a halt as he realized what he'd said.
But Weasley laughed and said, "Really? That would be fun. Do you have a broom I could borrow, or better yet, let me go home and get mine so you won't have to worry about sharing."
Draco scoffed. "I'd be mental to fall for that."
"Oh, and I was under the impression you were already mental."
Draco rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but the twin's voice stopped him. "Why'd you come down here anyways?"
Draco sighed, afraid he was about to make a big fool out of himself.
"I, well, I uh…Iwaswonderingwhichtwinyouwere."
The older teen blinked at Draco. "Come again?"
"I wanted to know which twin you were." Draco gritted his teeth, regretting this conversation immensely.
"Well, " he said a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I am Gred. You may have heard of my brother Forge."
Draco was about to give a snide remark when something clicked.
"You're hurt." he stated. It wasn't a question.
Weasley looked at him, incredulous. Then he seemed to recover his composure, and said, "Even if I was, why would you care?"
"What happened?" he asked, not answering.
The older boy regarded him warily before saying, "One of the Death Eaters that attacked Diagon Alley, the one who needs a new toothbrush, decided it would be fun to stomp on my arm. I'm afraid it's a bit broken."
Deciding he had already gone this far, why not farther, he called, "Libby!"
She appeared at his side and before she could start stammering questions, he said, "The prisoner has a broken arm. Heal it."
She nodded and then apparated into the cell. Weasley didn't do anything at first, probably not trusting Draco, but when Libby held out her hands, he slowly held his arm out to her. Without uttering a word, she waved her hand and Draco winced when he heard a loud crack as the bone knitted and set. Weasley had let out an "OUCH!" but as Libby backed away, he tested his arm, bending it and moving it around, and he seemed satisfied with the results.
"You can go back to what you were doing Libby. Thank you."
Libby nodded and apparated away. Draco looked back at Weasley who was looking back at him with a strange look on his face.
Draco turned and almost left again, when he heard him say, "Fred. My name is Fred." Draco nodded, somewhat surprised, that Fred had decided to tell him.
“What day is it?" he asked quickly.
"August third," he said replied. "Why?"
"George and I were gonna open our joke shop this week. Y'know, for all the students shopping for school. I wondered if he was still gonna do it, without me and all."
Draco hesitated a minute, then replied, "I have to go to the Alley tomorrow, and I can check if you like."
The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to bang his head up against the wall. Why did he keep doing that?
"Would you? Well, thanks Malfoy," Fred said grinning. Draco was taken aback. He never would have thought that a Weasley would actually thank him for anything. Especially when he was in a locked cellar, with him being the “bad guy” and all.
Mental. He was totally mental.
Nodding once more, he quickly turned and left, not trusting himself to talk anymore. If anyone found out he'd been friendly with Fred Weasley, he'd be in huge trouble.