Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas
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- Название:Draco Veritas
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"I knew it," she said, "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it all this time…"
An indefinite period of time passed for Hermione while she sat on the stairs with her hands over her face, struggling to not cry. In reality, of course, it was less than a minute before Harry came up the stairs and sat down next to her, Draco and Ginny having prudently disappeared into the living room.
"I´d give you a handkerchief," he said. "But I haven´t got one. And I ripped the bottom of my cloak off to make a bandage for Dracoś arm.
But, If you wanted…"
She looked up. "I´m not crying," she said.
"Oh," Harry said. There was a momentary silence. "If you wanted to have a cry, I could go away," he offered.
"Harry…" She looked more closely at him: under the dirt and bruises, he was slightly wan-looking with tiredness, but he seemed healthy enough.
The same reserve was in his eyes that she remembered, the same distance.
In fact, he looked more closed off than ever. But his expression was not unsympathetic. She realized with a start that this was the first time she had been alone with him since they had ended their relationship. It seemed a thousand years ago. "I don´t want to have a cry. I want to go wake Charlie up and Portkey ourselves back to Hogwarts before anything terrible happens."
"If she had expected any resistance, she didn´t get it. "Good," said Harry decidedly. "I´ve been wanting to talk to Dumbledore. Although I ought to talk to Sirius first, is he here?"
Hermione shook her head. "Back at Lupinś house. They´re both fine, though. Everyone is, except…"
Harry looked at her narrowly. "Except who?"
"Ron," Hermione said finally. She tensed, not sure how Harry would react.
But he looked merely surprised.
"Heś not back yet?"
"No. And Harry — I know about Pansy. Charlie told me."
"Better him than me," said Harry, his tone almost flippant. Then, at the look on her face, his voice softened. "I´m sorry," he said. "But I´m also glad you weren´t there at the reception, when Draco let everyone know what happened. It was pretty horrible."
"Oh, poor Ron," Hermione said softly. "He must have felt miserable. I mean, Pansy. He never even liked her. And to find out she was just trying to get at him for whatever reason, it must have been…"
"Awful," Harry said shortly. "I thought I wanted to hurt him a lot, but I guess I really didn´t after all."
"Why did Draco do that?"
"Because." Harryś tone was clipped. "I asked him to."
"Oh," she said. Then, unable to help herself, she added, "Harry, be careful what you ask him to do. He´d do anything for you. It wouldn´t be fair."
"Fair?" Harry voice was bitter; she looked at him in surprise. "Whatś not fair is that the more I try to protect the people I care about, the worse it gets for them. I tried to keep Ron away from the dangerous parts of my life, and he decided I didn´t care about him anymore and turned his back on me. Whatś not fair is Lucius Malfoy alive and walking the earth while my parents are dead and buried…"
"The Ministry will deal with Lucius — "
"He doesn´t seem like someone whoś afraid of the Ministry." Harryś tone was cold. "He stood there and told Draco that he had a month to live and maybe two weeks before the pain got too bad for him to walk anymore — and he laughed while he was saying it."
Nausea rose up in the back of Hermioneś throat. "Oh my God, Harry."
Harry seemed to recollect himself. Some of the fierceness went out of his expression. "Itś okay," he said. "He won´t die. We got away, so…he´ll be fine. He said Snapeś figuring out what the poison is, and Dumbledore will help us, and… he´ll be fine."
Hermione was dubious, but then she had always been more of an alarmist than Harry, and he seemed so sure it was hard to doubt him. She glanced down, and started — "What happened to your hands?"
"Oh. I cut them on some glass." He held them out to her, and she took out her wand and ran the tip over the broken skin. The cuts vanished. Harry nodded appreciatively and drew his hands back. As he did so, his sleeve rode up and a spark of whitish light lit around his wrist. He frowned. "I don´t suppose you can do anything about this handcuffy thing?" he asked.
"An adamantine bracelet, very clever," she said, touching it lightly. "No, Dumbledore will have to get it off for you. Lucius must have been pretty keen to stop you doing magic — then again, you are the big, scary Harry Potter," she teased.
He smiled wanly, to her relief. "I guess I am," he said.
For a moment, he looked very young to her — disheveled as if he´d just come off the Quidditch field, his clothes torn and stained, his glasses hanging crooked again. "I missed you," she said suddenly.
"I know," he said. "I missed you, too."
With a little sigh she leaned forward, and rested her head against his shoulder as she had done so many times in the past. For a moment he laid his hand gently on her back, holding her to him, and they sat together without moving. She inhaled the scent of him: sweat, blood, faint traces of soap and wet wool. "Thank you," she whispered.
His voice was muffled. "For what?"
"Coming back to me," she said.
Apparently it was the wrong thing to say. He went rigid all over as if his muscles had turned to iron, and pulled back from her.
"Harry. I didn´t mean — "
"You were right." He got to his feet, keeping his face averted so she could not see his expression. "We´d better get back to Hogwarts quickly. Itś not safe here."
As she looked up at him in astonishment, he turned around and headed up the unlit stairs towards Charlieś room. After a moment, not knowing what else to do, she rose to her feet and followed him up into the darkness.
"You must be cold," Ginny said nervously. Harry and Hermione had disappeared up the stairs and she was alone with Draco in the living room. She had left for a moment to change out of her soaking wet cloak and dress, and upon returning had discovered him sprawled across the couch as though he belonged there, his head on one of her motherś crocheted white doily pillows. "Do you want me to make some tea before we go?"
A faint mumble was her only answer. She turned and saw that he was asleep, or seemed to be. His cheek rested on the palm of his hand; the lashes of his shut eyes lay along his cheekbones like a fringe of tasseled black silk. In his face she could see the child he had been, the child who had faced her in the Manor library and told her how poor and repulsive he thought she was. There were hollows in his face now he had not had when he was twelve, of course; he had had a heart-shaped childś face then. Now it was more the shape of an expensive catś: wide across the cheekbones, narrowing out towards the jaw. He turned slightly as she watched him, his exhaled breath stirring his hair. "Draco," she said softly.
"Are you asleep?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her through his lashes. "I was getting there."
"Oh. Sorry."
"No, itś all right." He propped himself on his elbow and looked at her. "I wanted to ask you something anyway."
"All right. What?"
"Come over here and sit down, will you? You´re making me nervous hovering over there." She looked at him, surprised, and he smiled. "And no, that wasn´t what I wanted to ask you."
"All right," she said again, and not without misgiving went to sit on the couch. He slid his feet off to make room for her and half-sat up, propping himself against the cushions.
"I wanted to ask you," he said, "when you got your Time-Turner back?"
Ginnyś heart banged hard against her ribs, and almost without her volition her hand flew up to protectively clutch at the chain around her neck. Dracoś eyes widened.
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