Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

"Perhaps," said Lucius, examining his nails, "the impetus simply hasn't been there before. All sorts of things could trigger it. Rage, of course. A desire for revenge. Grief over a terrible loss of some sort…"

"Bastard," Sirius seethed, unable to hold himself back any more. The desire to leap over the desks and smash in Lucius Malfoy's leering, smug face was almost more than he contain. "If you think…"

"That will be enough," said Lucius, and the smug mask flickered. Beneath it, Sirius could see the other man's hatred of him, as cold and immovable as a Durmstrang glacier. "You are a fool for coming here, Black," he said softly, and around him the Death Eaters pressed closer. Their faces, like Lucius' were set and frozen. "You may be shielded by powerful magics and more powerful friends, but they cannot always be there to protect you, nor will their protections last forever. If I were you, I would not return here again. There is nothing here for you, Sirius Black, or for your werewolf pet."

At that Lupin, who had been almost entirely silent up until this point, stepped forward, placing a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "Why, Lucius?" he said quietly to the blond man in front of the desk. "Not that I expect you to tell me, but why? What larger purpose is this serving? What can one boy mean to you, even a boy who used to be Harry Potter's best friend?

He's just a child."

Something flickered in Lucius' face, at the back of his arctic eyes. "Ronald Weasley is the same age as my own son," he said coolly, looking straight at Lupin for the first time. "And as you can see he has not been spared either. In war, there are no innocents."

"Are we at war?" Lupin asked flatly. "I hadn't noticed."

"Indeed," said Lucius. "And by the time you do, you will already have lost."

Harry, sitting crosslegged on a sofa in the middle of the Gryffindor Tower common room, looked at the fireplace with an expression of polite inquiry. "What did you want to talk to me about, Sirius?"

Sirius smiled at his godson.

"Look, it's about Ron," Sirius said. "I didn't say anything before because I didn't want to worry you unduly, and also I know this isn't your favorite subject at the moment."

"I-" Harry began, indignation and sheepishness chasing each other across his face.

"I know all about it," Sirius said. "Everyone knows all about it, Harry.

Which I wouldn't normally tell you but unfortunately it pertains to the discussion at the moment. Ron," he said heavily, "has not yet come home to the Burrow."

Harry's green eyes opened wide behind his glasses. "He hasn't?"

"No," said Sirius. "And it's been kept quite quiet. I know Arthur and Molly have not even told Ginny. This afternoon I went to the Ministry and spoke with Lucius — "

Harry's teeth set visibly. "Lucius," he said, and managed somehow to make the simple two-syllable name carry an unsettling freight of rage and hatred. "Why him?"

"It was his Whirlwind Charm," said Sirius. "And he's quite high up in the Ministry of course, under the current regime. It is his considered opinion," Sirius went on tensely, "that Ron has simply run off. Legged it for France, or some such nonsense. He thinks Ron is ashamed to face you after what he did, and he also says…"

Sirius trailed off reluctantly, but Harry was more than happy to supply the rest of the sentence.

"He says Ron is afraid of me," Harry added coldly. "Because I'm Harry Potter and I'm dangerously unstable and all that."

"Pretty much, yes," Sirius agreed. "Not that Lucius himself is going to make the cover of Sanity Fair any time soon, but this afternoon didn't seem to be the time to bring that up. Obviously, something's going on. If something's happened to Ron, are they covering it up? Do they want something from Ron? If they're trying to get at you — "

"Then why no blackmail messages?" Harry said, his eyes blank with tension. "No requests for money, no severed toes arriving in the post?"

"Exactly," Sirius said. "Think, Harry. The last time you saw Ron…"

"Same as you," Harry said. "It was at the party."

Sirius sighed. "Bloody hell, maybe he did run off," he said.

Harry's eyes flashed. "He didn't," he said. "He wouldn't do that, and he's not afraid of me. At the party, when Draco called him over, he took everything Draco threw at him and just accepted it. He didn't fight back at all. He knows what he did wasn't right, he wants to make it up to me…he wouldn't just run away."

Sirius narrowed his eyes at his godson; Harry returned the look, his eyes even more intently green with the blue shadows around them. "You miss Ron?" Sirius asked.

"All the time," Harry said. His tone was not welcoming of further questions about his feelings. Sirius did not pose any.

"And Lucius — Lucius didn't say anything to you about Ron?"

Harry shook his head. "Not that I can recall. He whirlwhinded everyone away — after that, everything's a bit of a blur. Next thing I remember, really, we were up on the tower."

Sirius blinked. He suddenly recollected Percy, leaning against the corridor wall, pointing down the hall at the door through which Lucius had disappeared: The Department for the Regulation of Memory Charms…

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Harry. "So you don't remember anything from the casting of the Whirlwind Charm to the point where you were up on the tower?"

Harry shook his head. "I hadn't thought about it, but no."

Sirius expelled a breath. "And Draco?"

"If anything important happened, he hasn't mentioned it to me."

"Can you get him? I'd like to talk to him, too."

Harry nodded somberly. "Okay."

For a moment Sirius waited for him to get up and fetch Draco, before he realized that of course Harry didn't have to do that. Instead he watched as his godson's eyes unfocused, as his hands uncurled and went loose in his lap. He could see the rapid pulse that beat at the base of Harry's throat, the tensile energy in the slender hands and set jaw. There was a strength in Harry that ran through and through him like coils of steel wire. Lately it had been more evident. Sirius was glad to see it; James, much like Harry though he had been, had had none of that strength. He had been able to be brave when needed, of course, but he not had any capacity for ruthlessness of purpose or action. Sirius wondered now if Harry did. If he could be cruel if he had to be.

Harry's eyes came back into focus, dark lashes sweeping down to cover the expression in them. "He's coming."

"That's good." Sirius paused a moment and then plunged ahead with a question he was fairly sure would not be well received. "How does he seem? His spirits, I mean, not his health. Madam Pomfrey keeps me updated on that."

A spark of green fire between lowered lashes; Harry spoke evenly. "Well, I think he's sick of being stuck in the infirmary. And I'm sure he wishes Snape would hurry up with the antidote. But he's fine."

"He's fine?"

"He's fine." Harry's voice was still even. "I think he's tired of stupid questions about how he's feeling, but he's fine."

Before Sirius could reply to this, the portrait door opened and the subject of their discussion came in. Sirius wasn't sure what he had expected, but Draco looked much as he always had — perhaps a little thinner, more tired looking. He wore a red sweater that hung slightly loose and his eyes were dark smoky gold in the firelight. He nodded at Sirius and came to sit next to Harry, who moved slightly aside to make a place for him without having to look to see where he was. Sirius found himself clearing his throat. He wasn't exactly sure why but the pair of them made him nervous suddenly, two sets of eyes — green and gray — fixed on his with polite inquiry.

"Harry already explained to me what you were talking about," Draco said helpfully. "And now, I don't remember being taken upstairs either. I had thought it was just me, but apparently not."