Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

"But you did. It's how you got to the Burrow that night. Isn't it?"

"I was worried! I heard about the Whirlwind Charm — and when I owled Mrs. Weasley, she said that Ginny wasn't back yet — and I thought I could find her — bring her back safe — "

"She already was back safe when you showed up," Draco pointed out coolly.

Seamus looked stung. His eyes were wide, and very blue: a darkly saturated blue, like morning sky. "I was worried," he said again. "Did you

— does she know?"

"I didn't tell her, if that's what you mean." Draco did not point out that he had not told her because she would likely resent him if he did, and because he had no desire to add to her current overburdened emotional state. And because, somewhere in the far back of his mind, he was forced to admit to himself that with things the way they were it might not be so bad to have someone around who could always find Ginny if necessary.

"Thanks," Seamus said. "Look, I'm sorry. I'll tell her."

"Please yourself," said Draco, and turned away.

"Wait — " Seamus' tone was urgent. He took a step forward, his hand held out.

Draco took a swift step back, away from Seamus' hand. "Don't even think about it, Finnigan," he said pleasantly. "Touch me and I'll punch your eyes through to the back of your head so you can watch me walk away smiling."

Seamus dropped the hand. "Look. If we could just get along with each other, it would make things easier on everyone. I was wrong about the Tracking Charm. I'm sorry. If we could just be civil to each other — "

"No," Draco said.

Seamus looked astonished. "What?"

Draco stared hard at the other boy, so hard that Seamus swallowed nervously. When he spoke, it was in measured cadences. "Finnigan," he said. "I fear we are not understanding each other. Let me be clear with you. I think you are a tosser. A wanker. A weasel-faced, rubber-necked broom jockey with all the charm and charisma of a week-old head of lettuce. A control-obsessed maneuvering swine who, when not spending hours building up unsightly muscles, puts Tracking Charms on his girlfriend because he doesn't trust her not to run off with the first guy she sees who does not resemble a condom full of walnuts. Trust me. This is not one of those situations where a beautiful friendship is going to spring from the ashes of a great hatred. Because, in fact, I enjoy hating you. It gives my life color, complexity, and depth. It brings my soul joy. You're a creep, Finnigan. Live with it."

Seamus' eyes opened wide with astonishment. For a moment there was nothing: no movement, no sound, not the crackle of snow underfoot, not the brush of wind in the leafless branches. Only the look of hurt and shock deepening in Seamus' steady blue eyes.

Finally, Seamus spoke. "So that's the way it is, then?"

"That's the way it is," Draco said.

"Fine," said Seamus flatly, and without another word, turned around, and walked back towards the castle.

Draco leaned back against the nearest tree and watched him go, the calm satisfaction of a job well done humming pleasantly in his veins.

"I cannot shake the feeling, somehow, that I am responsible for sending a child to his death."

Snape turned away from the potions table, where he had been testing the temperature of several bubbling cauldrons. "What did you say, Headmaster?"

The older man, looking out the window at the darkening sky, did not reply for a moment. Finally, he said, "It was nothing, Severus."

"Ah." Snape returned his gaze to his cauldrons. After a moment, he spoke again: "Was it about Harry?"

"No. Well, perhaps. As you have often observed yourself, everything is about Harry. In some way or another."

"Sirius has given him the news about Weasley, then? I am surprised he is still here."

"You know why he's still here. I do not, however, expect that he will stay.

Once there is more definitive news…"

"And you feel confident in letting him go?"

"I feel confident that I could not force him to stay." Dumbledore inclined his head. His tone was remote. "I think, perhaps, that at this point I have given him everything that I can give him. Perhaps I have had all the time with him that I am allowed. I wish I could have had him for longer. But I think that I have gone beyond the point where there is anything else I can tell him. The question now is whether or not he will choose to listen to what he has learned."

"Potter has never been much of a listener," said Snape, selecting a vial of rosy liquid and pouring it into the leftmost cauldron. The liquid turned black. Snape muttered and made a check mark with his quill on a nearby tablet of parchment.

"In his lessons, no. I think he absorbs things through experience."

Dumbledore sighed. "If I could give him armor, I would give him armor. If I could make him invincible, I would make him invincible. But his greatest weapon remains his essential humanity. It is the one thing he has that our enemy never will. He is armored in his own human frailty, in his heart's knowledge of what he does have: his father's bravery, the sacrifice of his mother, the love of his friends, his own good sense. I can offer him no better or further protection. And yet…"

"And yet what?"

"And yet there is a cutting edge to every gift, isn't there? James was also foolhardy and Lily impetuous. And though his friends love him and he them, love is also a curse, it its own way."

"If Draco dies — "

"If Draco dies, Harry will be no use to anyone, not now and perhaps not ever again."

"Rage can be used."

"I do not think he would be angry. I think he would break apart. And it would take a wiser hand than mine, and more time than we have, to put him back together. And yet…"

"And yet what?"

"And yet how to separate them? For they must be separated. This most recent issue has changed all of my plans."

"You think they are too close, then?"

"Yes." Dumbledore ruminated. "It is good for neither of them."

"I am glad," said Snape, some sarcasm creeping into his tone, "to see you finally take issue with whether or not being led around by Harry is at all good for Draco."

"I do not think he is led. I think he chooses to follow, which is a different issue entirely. And in some other time — as in the past he has been — Harry would be the best thing that ever happened to Draco. But now.

Given what we know…No. Harry must face this next step of his journey alone."

"He will not like that."

"Probably not."

"It will break their hearts," Snape said.

"Heartbreak teaches us about ourselves," said Dumbledore. "A broken heart spills all its secrets."

"I thought your policy was not to intervene," said Snape, waving his wand at the furthest cauldron. Its flame flickered and went out.

"It is," said Dumbledore. "I will not intervene."

There was a beach, and water that ran up and up the shore of the beach, never receding. There were clouds overhead, heavy and iron gray, that struck together like blocks colliding. And the sands of the beach were deserted, and along them blew the bits of a red plastic child's bucket, torn to shreds now, tumbling in every direction… and there was more, but he could not see it, it was not his dream to see, it was not a dream at all…

A hurricane tore through Harry's mind, catapulting him swiftly and instantly out of a previously dreamless sleep. He bolted upright in bed, the covers falling around his waist in a tangled welter, and tried to catch his breath.

He had no recollection of what he had dreamed, or even if he had dreamed. What he did have was a feeling of intense but remote misery, spearing sharply through him, bewildering in its strength. And he knew, without needing to examine why, that this was Draco's pain and desolation. Draco's thoughts and feelings, even filtered through Harry's own consciousness, had an unmistakable shape and color of their own — a psychic fingerprint unlike anyone else's.