Worth A Thousand And One

Draco was angry. Hissing, spitting mad. At least, that was what he kept trying to tell himself. He had kept up a steady stream of invective and struggled to the best of his ability while tied up down the full length of the corridor with no appreciable affect on the two men hauling him along. They had merely laughed in his face then gently tossed him down on a bed before making tracks to the door. Just before the door swung shut, he had been hit with an unbinding charm that slowly unraveled the ropes from around his wrists and feet. Since then, Draco had been prowling the room trying to recover the feeling and dexterity in his limbs and determine just where in the bloody blazes he was and what the men who had captured him and Potter wanted. Oh, and trying to convince himself that he was angry, not terrified to the marrow of his bones. After several minutes of walking and chafing his sore hands and wrists, Draco determined there was no other way out of this bedroom suite other than the door he had been unceremoniously hauled in through. There were also no distinguishing features or particularly useful items he could use as weapons to defend himself. With a sigh, Draco sank down into a crouch with his back against the wall furthest away from the door. He tucked his chin into his arms folded across his knees and stared at the door. at least he would see the bastards coming this way. Even if he couldn't figure out how he would fight back yet; he wasn't going to let them do anything they wanted unopposed. Draco looked at the bed. A giant fluffy monstrosity with a black draping and gold tassels. Draco shuddered and looked back to the door. He would fight to the best of his ability and retain his honor (and chastity.)

Unsure of how long he had been asleep before being moved to this room, Draco had no idea how long they had been missing. Had his father found out yet that he was gone from Hogwarts? Would his father be able to find him in time before these men did something awful? During the war, during those horrible months of virtual imprisonment in their family home by the Dark Lord; the Malfoys had become closer than they ever were. Like a pride of lions watching each other's backs lest the circling hyenas find a weakness, the Malfoys had withdrawn into a tight circle of trust only between themselves. A slight glance or hand motion had been all that was required to communicate between themselves at the end of that period of time. Draco had also discovered another secret at that time: Mother and Father were no longer lovers. Maybe had never been lovers. They were friends, allies, and showed their best and hardest side to the world, but there was no romantic love between them. They were bound by honor and marriage vows and Draco. On the heels of this revelation, Draco also found out about his great-great grandfather's curse on the family and was relieved and horrified all at the same time.

The door swung open. Draco was paralyzed for an instant before shooting to his feet. "Potter? What the bloody hell is going on?" Potter was standing in the open doorway with a look of resignation on his face. Behind him were the silhouettes of the two kidnapers. Draco still couldn't make out individual features. Every time he tried to concentrate on their faces or hands, his eyes would slide away involuntarily. Some sort of obfuscating charm that Draco was unfamiliar with. 

"Malfoy, are you a virgin?"