Chapter Text
This rural diner was worse than any other restaurant Draco had encountered on this trip.
Unlike the roadside diners frequented by truckers, this remote eatery, nestled deep in the Appalachian Mountains, exuded something far more primal than diesel – the raw, untamed essence of lumberjacks. The air, thick with the smell of burnt frying oil and the mingled scents of sweat and tobacco from the men, completely annihilated Draco’s appetite.
Two waitresses navigated the space: one was overly enthusiastic, her eyes seemingly glued to Draco and his companions, as if a single glance their way would summon her to their table. The other, older woman, was utterly indifferent, carrying an air of profound weariness with everything in the diner.
The diner’s decor, far from being tastefully refined, was matched only by its questionable hygiene. While Draco shifted uncomfortably against the greasy tabletop, his good friend Pansy was cloyingly snuggled up to her boyfriend, Ethan. They openly fed each other and exchanged whispered jokes, completely oblivious to their surroundings.
Draco idly listened to the conversation coming from the couple across from him. Most of the time, it was Pansy talking, with Ethan occasionally chiming in.
They had only officially started dating two months ago and were deep in the throes of a honeymoon phase where nothing else seemed to matter. This made Pansy’s original pitch to Draco sound particularly unreliable.
“You have to come with me, Draco. Otherwise, Ethan is the only one I know in that whole group, and I don’t know anyone else. I can’t spend the entire trip just talking to my boyfriend; I’d die of boredom.” That’s how Pansy had convinced Draco back then.
The road trip vacation to a forest cabin in West Virginia had been initiated by Ethan’s friends, who were also providing the accommodation. Unwilling to spend an entire vacation without seeing or interacting with his girlfriend, Ethan naturally wanted Pansy to come along. Draco, meanwhile, had joined the group as Pansy’s friend.
Draco sighed internally, putting down the spoon he’d been stirring his mediocre stew with, deciding not to force himself to eat any more. He casually left a tip and told the couple across from him that he was leaving.
“Okay, I’m just gonna step out and get some air.”
Pansy had known all along that Draco—ever the pampered brat—wouldn’t be able to stomach this environment for long. She caught his eye and gave a soft, knowing huff; it was part acknowledgment of his departure and part playful jab at his high-maintenance nature.
With practiced ease, she gestured toward the okra on her plate, silently commanding Ethan to feed her. Ethan, momentarily looking up from his doting duties, offered Draco a friendly smile before returning to his attentive task of feeding his girlfriend exactly as she instructed.
Draco simply arched an eyebrow, entirely unfazed. He was long accustomed to Pansy’s sickly-sweet displays of affection, which were carbon copies of every relationship she’d ever had. Her “type” had never changed.
Ethan was certainly handsome and possessed a sun-kissed, athletic build, but that wasn’t what had won Pansy over. It was the way his entire world seemed to revolve around her—the sheer, unadulterated devotion in his eyes. That was exactly the kind of person Pansy craved. Draco knew she took a particular delight in watching men bend to her every whim and fastidious demand.
In an attempt to squeeze in as many customers as possible, the diner was packed with tables, leaving the aisles cramped and narrow. Draco picked his way through cautiously, taking care to avoid the lumberjacks’ protruding elbows and the legs sprawled carelessly across his path.
He wasn’t trying to hold this place to the standards of a high-end establishment; he just couldn’t help but notice that the layout was a blatant fire hazard. Then again, he mused, in a backwater place like this, official regulations were likely viewed as mere suggestions rather than actual requirements.
“Watch your ass, Malfoy. Though we’d be more than happy to step up for that pretty thing of yours again,” someone called out from behind. The words were laced with a crude, unabashed mockery.
It was Jack. He was busy judging the way Draco picked his way through the aisle, delicately avoiding the locals as if he were performing some sort of high-stakes ballet. Jack found the sight privately hilarious.
At the very top of the list of “worst things that can happen on a trip” was discovering that one of your travel companions was an absolute prick who went out of his way to target you for no reason. Draco’s expression darkened, his irritation at Jack’s remark plain to see.
Jack’s loud comment had clearly drawn an audience. Now, most of the eyes in the diner were fixed on Draco, scrutinizing this fair-skinned, delicate young scion of wealth.
The locals knew nothing of high fashion or designer labels; they only saw a young man in casual clothes that were so fine, so comfortable, and so impossibly clean that he looked utterly alien in those surroundings. His long, striking platinum-blond hair, which fell over his shoulders in elegant curls, was a spectacle to them. In a place like this, a man with hair like that was a curiosity—and to some, a target for silent contempt, dismissed as nothing more than “pussy.”
Draco ignored them. These were unrefined lumberjacks whose paths would never cross his again, and he knew better than to think he could single-handedly change the backwards prejudices of a cloistered town.
Instead, he simply shot Jack a sharp, contemptuous glare. He made no effort to hide his disdain, nor did he have any qualms about making an enemy of the man.
Draco had never been known for his patience; his friends often remarked on the particular brand of arrogance that came with being thoroughly pampered. Raised on a steady diet of praise and indulgence, he had always been the cynosure of his world, perpetually enveloped by the attention and goodwill of those around him—a true prince among men.
Jack, however, was entirely unfazed. He continued to laugh with a boisterous sense of schadenfreude, clearly delighted at having successfully rattled Draco. He failed to notice Pansy at the next table, who was now fuming, or Ethan, whose expression had soured as he stood ready to defend his girlfriend’s best friend.
It was then that Henry—the man who loved playing the group leader and who had organized this trip—hissed a sharp reprimand at Jack. He clearly had no desire to cause a scene in such a place.
Draco scoffed internally. He knew exactly what kind of game Jack and Henry were playing—a pair of self-important idiots. He strode out of the diner, the door swinging shut with a loud, protesting creak that effectively cut off the prying eyes and the stifling noise of the room.
Outside, the summer sun was relentless, yet the moment he moved out of its direct glare, a breeze from the high mountain peaks swept over him with a delightful chill. Pausing in the shade at the edge of the dense forest, Draco let the fresh air wash over him, finally purging the cloying scent of grease from his senses.
If it weren’t for this group trip, a brainless ox like Jack would never have even entered Draco’s social circle. He took a steady breath and gradually cooled off. Today his mood was truly foul, and it wasn’t just because of Jack.
With a grim set to his jaw, Draco pulled out his phone and hoisted it skyward, desperately hunting for a signal. But the tiny icon remained stubborn; no matter how he angled the device, the dreaded “No Service” symbol stared back at him.
It was as if this town had been cast adrift, forgotten by the rest of civilization.
The isolation only fueled his agitation. He stared fruitlessly at his message thread, aching for a new reply to materialize beneath the last text he’d sent. The lack of connectivity always left him on edge; even here, in this pocket of the Appalachians that felt like the end of the earth, he couldn’t stop obsessing over the drama he’d left behind in Cambridge.
He scanned the area and decided to wander a bit further, unwilling to abandon the hope of catching even a ghost of a signal. He figured if he couldn’t find a bars here among the buildings, there was absolutely no chance of finding one on the treacherous mountain passes ahead.
At that moment, Draco’s gaze happened to land on a tall figure, and the sight startled him. Unprepared, he suddenly realized someone had appeared there, and in the quiet he almost believed he was seeing some terrifying monster materialize out of nowhere.
The man had been standing in his blind spot the entire time—a truly unnerving realization.
However, the panic evaporated as quickly as it had arrived. Draco forced himself to calm down. It was clearly just a local lumberjack, ordinary and unremarkable.
He looked about Draco’s age. The man wore a plaid shirt and sturdy work pants similar to the lumberjacks in the restaurant, with a touch of dirt and sawdust clinging to them, yet on him the clothes carried a wholly different aura.
The guy stood unusually tall, with beastly, rugged musculature. He was hunched over, loading something into the bed of a pickup parked beside the restaurant. His thick black hair, with a hint of natural curl, was wild and long, almost obscuring one side of his face and leaving only a strong jawline and a sharply defined, cold neck visible.
That tangle of dark hair gave him a primitive, raw aura a subtle undercurrent of inwardness and darkness. Like the silent, hidden forest behind him, there was a depth of shadow there.
Draco’s gaze stayed fixed on the tall figure, and a strange fear crept up inside him. A primal sense of danger made his heart race.
When the lumberjack looked over, Draco instinctively flinched back, a tremor running through him. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but he was sure the other was staring at him with a cold, calculating gaze.
“Ah—” An exaggerated female scream sliced through the quiet air.
Draco turned at the sound, breaking the uneasy eye contact with the lumberjack.
The girl’s voice sounded familiar, and a sense of foreboding rose in him as he guessed who had spoken. He stopped paying attention to the strange lumberjack and slowly walked toward the direction of the voice.
“Are you all right?” Draco asked, his voice quivering.
He saw two girls standing by a wooden post, huddled together and looking down at something. They were also members of this vacation trip, a pair of sisters who had left the restaurant early before Draco. The sisters’ skin carried a warm golden glow, and both had soft brown hair.
Around them stood two bright fill lights, along with some equipment Draco didn’t recognize, and a camera tripod perched on the post.
Draco guessed they had come here to find a flat spot to place the gear. He hoped they hadn’t been bitten by a forest snake.
“Oh, we’re fine. We just saw some good news!” Kayla, the more outgoing of the two, said, waving her phone at Draco. That was the source of the scream a moment ago.
So they’d been looking at their phones. Draco’s worry instantly shifted to relief, and he hurriedly asked, “I have an important message to receive, but my phone has had no signal. Do you have signal here? If I come over, will I disturb your filming?”
“Of course. Come on over, we’re done filming,” the girls replied warmly.
The wind rustled through the leaves as the three of them stood around the post in quiet. Kayla thought for a moment, then played the video she had posted on TikTok. The lively sound of the video kept their atmosphere from being too rusty and awkward.
Draco lowered his head to look at his phone, his lips drawn tight as he wondered what kind of reply might appear on the screen and whether he could bear the reality it might reveal. Kayla’s voice rang in his ear again.
“Malfoy, uh, do you know how much longer it’ll take to reach the cabin? Jack says he doesn’t know either—just follow Henry. I won’t dare ask him more.” The two sisters had been invited by Jack; he’d promised to cover all their travel expenses, so Kayla tried to steer clear of provoking him.
“Tomorrow we’ll be there. I’m just not sure if it’ll be morning or afternoon.” Draco considered for a moment and gave what was the only possible answer in that moment.
During the trip, Draco’s mind wandered; he wasn’t paying attention to the vacation plan, only remembering that today Pansy had complained she hadn’t slept well for two nights, and Ethan had consolingly said it would be better after tonight.
Receiving only a vague reply, the sisters still exchanged excited glances. Kayla and Grace whispered to each other: “We’ll post the video tomorrow night? We’ve gained about 5k followers these past few days, we need to post something new to keep them engaged.”
Grace nodded: “Okay, I can edit the footage into a video in two hours. Then we can shoot some more cabin footage to add at the end as a teaser…” Grace spoke animatedly about her area of expertise. Kayla nodded along, admiringly watching herself on the screen.
In the video, she spoke with energy, delivering lines Grace had crafted about an elite college girl, a vacation cabin, and travel—topics that attract attention and longing. “Hi everyone, I’m Kayla…” “Hi, everyone, I’m Kayla…” The video kept looping, showing not only her slender, beautiful face but also the silhouettes of a few other members.
Draco’s thoughts didn’t seem to be with them; the signal icon finally stabilized, but his mind was a jumble.
Finally, with the phone vibrating, Draco realized he was online. New messages kept popping up at the top of the screen, but the one chat he cared about most didn’t move. The anticipation, anxiety, and fear he had been gearing up for suddenly collapsed, shattered.
Grace finished tidying the filming gear and turned her head, noticing Draco’s unsettled expression. The moment of excitement from earlier had cooled a little.
“We’re in a very remote forest, the signal’s not going to be great,” she said, meeting Draco’s pale gray eyes with a comforting attempt.
Draco took a deep breath, glancing at the surrounding trees and trying to sound calm. “I’m fine. The signal’s not a problem.” He wasn’t familiar with Grace and didn’t want to explain too much here, especially since he wasn’t sure how to describe the kind of confusion he was feeling.
Grace and Kayla exchanged a look, both curious, sensing a hint of irritability in Draco’s voice. Though Draco usually wore a stony expression, his manners were graceful and his features refined, and he treated them with courtesy and gentleness.
Among the five people traveling, Jack was as if a brash, muscle-bragging stray dog; Henry loved putting on airs and trying to boss others around. As for the couple Pansy and Ethan who seemed to share a brain, Pansy was sharp-tongued and Ethan followed her lead.
So, comparatively, they’d rather chat with this slender, model-like Draco. Grace nudged Kayla, signaling the more sociable one to ask how things were.
But then Henry’s call for them came through, urging them to hurry and get back in the car.
Draco could only tap send quickly. Under the message “Have they found Brand yet?” a photo of a restaurant menu appeared beneath it. Before the trip, he had promised to text Narcissa every day to prove he was safe.
He readily helped load the heavy case containing the professional filming gear into the trunk of Jack’s car, ignoring Jack’s jealous glances. Amid Kayla’s and Grace’s thanks, he took his seat in the back of Ethan’s car as usual.
What he wanted most at that moment was to get back into the car and have a moment of quiet.
Once aboard, for some reason Draco felt that something was off about the car. A sense of unease crawled up his spine like damp moss, and he could almost smell a scent in the air, though he couldn’t quite name it.
He asked Ethan and Pansy in the front seat, but they both shook their heads—no. Draco scanned the interior with growing unease, instinctively sensing that something had changed. He tried to pin down what was off, but couldn’t quite put it into words.
Back at the restaurant, the older waitress’s gaze passed through the window as seven young people drove away. She spoke to the younger waitress in a weary, mildly admonishing tone: “You’re always too eager with the tourists.” The younger waitress smiled, in a good mood, showing a bright white grin: “These college students tip generously.”
“Once they leave, they won’t be back; you’ll forget them after one meeting. Don’t get your hopes up.” The older waitress wasn’t convinced, her voice husky, as if warning the younger woman.
Though she spoke, her hands kept moving, quickly packing the takeaway boxes. In a tone of practiced familiarity and warmth, she addressed the dark-haired man in front of her:
“Here you go, Harry.”