Prisoner 63

King Of The Clouds

A/N: wow guys! This is my fastest growing story yet, thanks so much for all the support, it really means a lot. I'm glad you all enjoy it! I think I'll always end up apologising for the infrequent updates: I'm sorry! Hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently soon. This story is fully planned to have 19 chapters total, so get ready for a wild ride!
Enjoy!

Draco was reading again. He felt like he'd been doing a lot more reading recently, mostly because it was all the boy seemed to want to do.

He was reading the same novel they'd been working their way through in the dark, damp cell in Azkaban prison, a fantasy novel about a boy who took on magical powers and saved his world. A childish story, his father never failed to point out, and one that he always disapproved of him reading, but one that Draco always refused to give up nonetheless. It was a nice story, with a heartwarming tone and message, despite its childishness.

The boy was watching him intently as he read aloud, eyes scanning Draco's face, sometimes looking down to the white pages with stamped letters of ink across them, and periodically looking around the room, slightly paranoid. He seemed relatively calm whenever Draco looked up to check on him, his bright green doe like eyes watching Draco eagerly.

They'd been left alone since Draco had cut his hair off. His mother hadn't made any more surprise visits, and neither has had his father, much to Draco's relief, although the knew it couldn't be long until he did. Dinner was quickly approaching as well; where the Malfoy family usually sat around a large dining table and Draco tried to cope. Dinner was always stressful, with his father becoming agitated whenever Draco didn't use proper manners, or didn't say anything, or talked too much.

The boy didn't say anything at all really, the odd 'no' or 'Draco' here and there, but that was it. And he most certainly wouldn't have table manners; in fact Draco doubted he would even pick up a knife or fork. Not to mention he could hardly walk. The whole ordeal was stressing him out a little too much.

Finishing his sentence, Draco looked up again, to see him looking towards the door. His eyes were open wide, and he was perfectly still, arms still habitually wrapped around his chest in a strait-jacket like fashion. Draco frowned, looking towards the door, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Eventually Draco heard the small pitter-patter of steps that belonged to one of the house elves. He must have heard it far before Draco did.

A knock rung out on the door and the boy flinched, but remembering what Draco had said about knocking, didn't panic. When the door opened though, he gasped in fright and scrambled closer to Draco, staring terrified at the house elf standing in the doorway.

Draco couldn't help but feel like he was about to laugh. Dobby the house elf had to be one of the most unthreatening creatures to walk this planet, and yet this boy was absolutely terrified of him. "It's alright, that's just Dobby, he's harmless."

Dobby looked mildly confused, yet at the same time, fearful. "Dobby was sent to tell you that tea is ready, Master Draco. Master Malfoy wants you in the dining hall."

"Thanks Dobby. And don't punish yourself for frightening him, he's scared of a lot."

The house elf nodded and quickly scuttled from the room. Draco turned back to the boy, moving to get off the bed, intending to go to dinner. This was met by a large protest from the boy in the form of a loud cry, moving one of his arms to point at the still open book. "Harry," he said.

"We can't read, alright? We've got to go to dinner," Draco replied, surprised that he'd said another word, the main character of the novel's name.

The boy's eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown, clearly not liking the idea of leaving the book behind. He looked back to the book, and picked it up with a shaking hand, eyes scanning across the words. Draco raised an eyebrow. So he could read, then.