Draco stared wide-eyed at Molly Weasley, who dusted her hands off on her apron and looked at Draco questioningly. He took a cautious step back toward the doorway. He would face many, many things unarmed, but facing Molly Weasley after he had just been fighting with her son, was not one of those. If he turned and ran, he might be able to get back down to the cellar before she turned her full anger on him. He had only wanted to sneak up to the kitchen for some ice to put on his knuckles, maybe indulge in a sneaky dram or two of firewhiskey. And now Molly Weasley, who surely hated him as much as her children, was confronting him. Shit.