Cliché

chapter 24: Charades

  Nothing made sense. Absolutely nothing. And yet, everything made sense.

But how could anyone know that sweet little Ernie Malcom would be the one at the end of the string?

"Why?!" Draco repeated.

"I'll answer your questions in a moment. For now, please, sit." Ernie smiled, motioning to the open chairs.

"We're not doing anything! You're going to Azkaban as soon as you release us!" George snarled.

Malcolm's smile twitched, "Don't make me lose my temper. Please, sit." It was obviously not a polite suggestion.

The blonde nodded at the redhead, letting him know to play nice for now, and maybe- just maybe- the kidnapper would too.

Both boys took a seat at the table, and looked a bit unsure of everything. They took in the chipped bowls in front of them, the dusty cups and the unnerving stench.

"I'm so glad you could make it." The Hufflepuff grinned, residing at the end of the table.

Ernie's smile was innocent, and made the boys feel sick.

"This isn't a tea party." The Weasley spat through clenched teeth.

The villain scoffed, "Then why are you here? Why are they here? They came because they received letters from both of you." His eyes saddened, as if he was playing devil's advocate, "Draco, you sent Harry a letter, telling him to meet you. George, you did the same."

"I d-didn't..." Draco couldn't think. He wasn't the one who had sent that letter, but everything was foggy. He hadn't sent that letter... right?

Draco still hadn't grasped that this sweet, caring boy was the one behind the mask.

The mask...

That day, at Poetry night, Malfoy had said,

"Haven't you ever just wanted someone to try? Someone to try to discover who he or she is behind the mask?"

And all that Draco wanted now, was for Ernie's mask to break.

Malcom wasn't innocent. He sure as hell wasn't sweet. He was sick. Sick in the head.

"Let. Them. Go." Draco managed, pushing the confusion out of his mind.

"Let them go? What's the fun in only having a small party when I could have all of you here to create a bigger one? Now, if you all play by my rules, no one gets hurt." Ernie smiled, "Let's eat. Everything looks delicious, doesn't it?"

The blonde's stomach churned. This was all wrong. This boy was psychotic.

"Y-Yes, it does." George's face fell. He needed Fred to be safe. Fred was everything. If keeping his best friend safe meant playing along, he would.

"Draco?"

"Yeah, looks great." The blonde lied.

The food looked as if it had been there for ages. It was old. Old and mealy. Everything had mold and looked ice cold, except a silver chaffing dish, which was steaming. The substance inside smelled like an unfamiliar soup, although the lid prevented any eyes from gazing upon it.

"Let's start with the main course, yeah?"

The captive's shared a sick look as their bowls were filled with a thick, brown substance. Carrots, peas, celery and some mystery meat seemed to be floating around.

Draco knew he and George had to eat it.  It could've been poisoned, like the apple in the orchard, but he didn't care. Draco took the courageous step to try the first bite. It wasn't the worse thing he had ever tasted, but it certainly wasn't good. The soup burned his mouth and he forced himself to chew the chunks.