Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

Sirius straightened up, cradling Harry in his arms, then looked up and over at Lupin. "I haven't carried him since he was a baby," he said, "he hardly weighs anything, even now."

Lupin said something back, so softly that Draco didn't hear it, and then both of them turned, and began to walk back towards the lights of Malfoy Park.

Sirius turned and looked back at Draco. "Are you coming?" he demanded.

"We're taking a carriage."

Draco shook his head. "I'll Floo back on my own," he said. He wanted to be alone to think for a bit.

Alas, it was not to be. No sooner had he reached the door of the Inn than Snape stepped out of the shadows and accosted him. "Mister Malfoy," said Snape. "A word with you?"

Draco gazed dispiritedly at his grim-faced Potions professor. "I don't suppose," he said, "that if I passed out right here, you'd be likely to carry me home?"

Snape's eyes had narrowed, and he raised a black-gloved hand. "What," he said coolly, "is that?"

Draco looked where Snape was pointing, and felt a shock like a punch at his heart — the right sleeve of his shirt, where his cloak fell away from it, glittered with threads of silver that seemed to glow in the moonlight.

Blood. He pulled his cloak closed quickly but it was too late; Snape had seen.

"Professor…" Draco began.

"Let me see your arm," Snape said.

Draco didn't move. "It's not what it — "

"Let me see your arm, Mister Malfoy!" Snape barked, and Draco jumped.

"We may not be at Hogwarts, but I can still take points from your House!"

This seemed monstrously unfair to Draco, who gaped. "But it's Christmas holidays!"

"Yes," Snape concurred. "And my Christmas gift to you will be that I will not immediately take points, but will instead give you a second chance to show me your arm." He tapped a booted foot on the snow. "I'm waiting."

With a rebellious glare, Draco stepped forward and threw his cloak back over his left shoulder. He held his arm out towards the Potion Master, who took hold of it — much more gently than his fierce expression might lead one to believe he would — and peeled back the sleeve of Draco's sweater.

His immediate sharp intake of breath was loudly audible in the still air.

Reluctantly, Draco glanced down and saw what Snape was looking at: a long, shallow gash ran along his forearm where he had thrown up his arm to shield his face. The gash itself didn't look serious; what had caused Snape to gasp was that the blood leaking from the wound was dark red-silver, the color of mercury seen through scarlet glass.

"What is this?" Snape demanded. "Is this the first you've seen of this? You don't seem surprised."

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. It's nothing."

"I find it very unlikely that it is nothing." Snape dropped Draco's arm, took hold of his shoulder, and steered him forcibly back towards the Inn.

Draco stumbled slightly on the uneven snow but Snape didn't slow his rapid pace until they reached the nearest lantern, where he paused, turned, took hold of Draco's shoulders, and thrust him under the bright pool of light cast by the lantern. Draco blinked in the sudden bright light and tried to twist away, but Snape held him fast, his coal-black eyes studying Draco's face with an unblinking intensity. "How long has this been going on?" he demanded finally.

Draco tried to hold his professor's gaze, and failed. "How long has what been going on? The blood thing? Because — I can explain that."

"Really?" Snape cocked an eyebrow. "Do go ahead."

Draco fidgeted. "I, er…."

"Yes? Overdosed on Jelly Glow Worms? Got sozzled and ate a pack of fairy lights? Tried to practice on of those charms on yourself that assures you'll light up a room with your smile, but got one of the incantations dreadfully wrong?"

"Well, if you're just going to be sarcastic…"

"Explain yourself, Mister Malfoy, and truthfully. It is cold, and I would like to go back inside."

"Well, so would I," Draco muttered. "Look, I don't know what it is. I'm meant to see a mediwizard, and I will, it's just…"

"Then you told Madam Pomfrey about this?"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean sort of?"

"I mean, I told her, sort of, in that way where I didn't actually."

"I rather thought so." Snape released his hold on Draco's shoulders, and out of nowhere, it seemed, produced a white handkerchief. He handed it to Draco. "Bind this around your cut," he instructed. "And then tell me how long this has been going on."

"How long what's been going on?" Draco demanded, doing as instructed.

"The funny-looking blood thing? I don't honestly know. A few weeks maybe. It's not serious — "

"The hell it isn't serious. You're ill. You know that. I'd say you look like you're suffering the effects of a serious Dark curse or hex — "

"I haven't been hexed."

"Can you be sure of that?" Snape demanded.

Draco nodded. "I'm sure." He suddenly felt very tired. "It's not a curse or a hex — or if it is one, it's not one that I've been able to detect, and you know I'm not ignorant where Dark magic is concerned. I don't know what it is."

"Well, you look like death." Snape spoke bluntly. "I shall speak to Sirius Black immediately."

"No!" Draco bolted upright in alarm. "No — don't do that. Not Sirius."

"It is out of your hands, Draco. And Black is your guardian. Were we at school, I would speak to Dumbledore — "

"The wedding is the day after tomorrow," Draco said desperately. "Guests start arriving tomorrow for the rehearsal dinner. Can't it wait two days?'

"I cannot help but feel that with some unknown magic affecting your health, it would be irresponsible of me not to — "

"Please," Draco said. "I'm not that sick, I'm not dying right now. It would ruin the wedding — my mother would panic — and for what? For me to find out that there's something terribly wrong with me a few days earlier? I already know that. Thanks but no thanks."

Snape looked hesitant. "Does anyone else know about this? Does Potter?"

"Harry? He knows a little. Hermione knows. She's looking into it."

"Oh, indeed," Snape said acidly. "You're well taken care of then, aren't you?"

"Please," Draco said again. He could think of no elegant argument, and no grounds on which he could logically appeal to Snape. Snape was probably right; Sirius should know. It was just that Draco hated the idea. Once everyone knew, it would become real. Something with which he would have to cope. And there would be mediwizards and infirmaries and people panicking and none of it would help — of that he was sure — and he wouldn't be any use to Harry after that. "Isn't there anything…"

"Very well," Snape said, unexpectedly.

Draco blinked at him. "Pardon?"

"I said very well. We will wait until after the wedding. It will give me time…" Snape removed the handkerchief from Draco's arm, folded it, and slipped it into his pocket. Draco watched with wide eyes. "It will give me a chance to run some tests on your blood. I'm hardly a mediwizard, but I can certainly detect if a potion has been used on you."

There was a long pause. "Thanks," Draco said finally.

Snape's coal-black eyes glittered. "Do not thank me. It is unnecessary. I will return to my laboratory and run some tests on the blood. It will give me an excuse to miss the rehearsal dinner."

Draco found himself almost smiling. "Glad I could help out."

"I do not enjoy parties," Snape ruminated. "Unless, of course, there is karaoke."

"Right," Draco said tactfully.

"In any case, you should return to the house. You should not be out in the cold when you are ill. Shall I Apparate you back?"

Draco shook his head. "I'll take a carriage. It's fine. Thanks again."

For a moment, Snape seemed to hesitate, and Draco had the thought that Snape might pat him on the shoulder — but the moment passed, and the thought with it. Snape released his hold on Draco's arm, nodded briefly, and Apparated away, leaving Draco standing in the snow under the lantern, lost in thought.