Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

"I'm fine," Ginny said to Harry, who nodded. It was almost entirely true.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle. "Captains greet each other!" she called out, and the two captains stepped out onto the pitch, Draco first and then Harry. They met in the middle and each held out their hand to be shaken.

Harry's cheeks were scarlet with cold, Draco looked pale and composed and untouched by the weather, and Ginny was struck as always by the similarity in their bearing and build, despite the superficial differences of coloring and uniform. Both were tall and slender without being thin, with the light build that made for exceptional Seekers. Each bent his head as their hands touched, and as the dying sunlight flared and faded behind them, she marveled at the incongruity of it — Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, shaking hands. A year ago she would have thought that would be impossible; now she wondered that they managed to keep their manner towards each other so cold and reserved in public. They had faced death before shoulder to shoulder, yet as they broke off the handshake, turned, and repaired to their respective teams, they might never have known each other at all.

As the crowd above them roared and cheered, Blaise stood on her tiptoes and kissed Draco lightly on the mouth, as she always did before games, "for luck." He barely moved or acknowledged the gesture, seeming to accept it as his due, which annoyed Ginny despite the fact that she knew he was in some measure acting. But then he was always in some measure acting. "Some people make scenes," Harry had said to her once. "Draco makes three-act plays."

Madam Hooch's whistle blew, snapping Ginny out of her reverie. She seized her broom and kicked off with the rest of the team. Fourteen players rose up towards the darkening silver sky.

Harry immediately rose high above the rest of them, casting about for the Snitch. Draco flashed upward as well, a blur of green and silver at the corner of Ginny's eye. She pulled her attention away from the boys as something huge and black shot towards her — a Bludger, hit by Tess Hammond. Ginny ducked it as Colin flew in front of her, knocking the Bludger back towards Blaise with a mighty heave.

Blaise elegantly swerved around the Bludger, shooting Colin a vicious look as she did so. Colin looked taken aback and slightly frightened — Blaise was an expert at nasty looks.

"Ginny! Over here!" It was Elizabeth Thomas, the Quaffle in her grasp. She hurled the ball towards Ginny, who caught it, turned, and streaked towards the other end of the pitch. The cold air cut at her face, making her eyes sting. As she neared the Slytherin goalposts three dark figures shot in front of her — Blaise, Graham, and Malcolm. As Chasers, they couldn't touch her, but they could certainly block her way. Colin drove them off with a well-directed Bludger, but precious seconds had elapsed, and as Ginny started forward Tess and Milicent swooped in, furiously hitting Bludgers towards her, and she was forced to toss the Quaffle towards Seamus. Blaise intercepted the throw, passed to Malcolm, and the Slytherins scored, Malcolm swatting the ball through the posts so hard it nearly took Ron's head off when he tried to block it.

There was a discontented rumble from the stands. Nobody liked a Slytherin victory except, of course, the other Slytherins.

Ginny bit her lip, and when the Quaffle came back into play, this time she dove after it fiercely. She swatted it away from Blaise (which gave her no small amount of pleasure) and sped across the pitch, casting the ball towards Seamus. He caught it and headed away with it, and as she looked after him she saw something glint below her — The Snitch.

It shot by beneath her feet, and Harry and Draco rocketed after it, neck and neck, two blurs of green and scarlet. As Ginny turned to look down at the flying golden ball and its pursuers, something flashed out at her from across the pitch. It was like a sudden flash of light stabbing into her eyes, but it was not light, it was darkness — a hard and agonizing and painful darkness, sharpened to a point and driven right between her eyes. She felt her limbs stiffen, cold tearing at her insides like knives. Her fingers gone frozen and lifeless, she could no longer hold the broom. The world turned upside down, the sky at her feet, the glittering ice-covered world racing up to meet her. She screamed once before everything went black.

Racing Harry towards the Snitch, Draco's world had narrowed itself down to just himself and his goal — the tiny golden object only feet away. He heard the rushing of wind in his ears, the pounding of his heart — and then, cutting through everything else, a scream.

Ginny's scream.

He whirled his broom around in midair, almost dislocating his shoulder as the Firebolt jerked sideways. Vaguely somewhere off to his left he heard Harry swear fiercely, but he wasn't paying attention. His eyes were fixed on the scarlet-robed figure on the drunkenly swaying broom — he saw Ginny fight for control of her Nimbus 2000, lose it, and tumble sideways.

She fell without another cry, struck the ground, and lay motionless.

Screams rose from the crowds in the stands. Charlie and George were on their feet, shoving their way through the packed mass of people.

Somewhere Professor McGonagall was shouting. The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams were in disarray; Harry was shouting and Draco supposed he should rally his own team as well, but it seemed a very small thing and anyway it was too late — he had pointed his broom towards the ground at a near-vertical angle, causing him to shoot downward with a speed that would have made even Wronski jealous.

The cold wind sang in his ears like music. He imagined he had never flown so fast, or so hard. He hit the ground on his hands and knees with bone-breaking force, and scrambled to his feet. All around him the other Quidditch players were flying down like a shower of falling stars, red and green. He ran towards the splash of crimson against white snow that was Ginny. He was somewhat conscious of chaotic milling up in the stands, of the sound of yelling voices, and then he reached her and went down on his knees in the snow next to her, and he could see that not all the scarlet that she lay against was Quidditch robes. Blood.

As he reached for her, her dark eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him. There was a blank sort of wondering in her gaze, as if she were both surprised to see him there and had accepted it as inevitable. "Draco?" she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

"Yeah." His voice came out in a whisper. "It's me."

He reached his hand towards her and then something grabbed him violently by the back of his robes and hauled him into a standing position and he whirled around and saw that it was Seamus Finnegan.

The Gryffindor Chaser was white with fury. "What do you think you're doing, Slytherin?" he spat, as if it were the worst insult he could think of.

"Stay away from her."

The rest of the Gryffindor team had landed. Draco saw the Creevey brothers approaching, backing up Seamus, Elizabeth running forward, and Ron, white and stricken-looking, pushing past the others to get to his sister. Tess and Dex were still in the air, but the other Slytherins were on the ground, standing at a distance, staring in surprise. He could feel Blaise's eyes on him, but he didn't care.

He turned back to Seamus. "Get out," he said, enunciating each word clearly, "of my way."

"Why? So you can gloat? What's your problem, Malfoy? We don't want you here."

"Get out of my way," Draco repeated. He heard his own voice as if it came from very far away. "Get out of my way, or I will kill you. I'll break every bone in your fucking body, Finnegan. Don't think I won't."

Seamus paled markedly but held his ground. "I'm not going anywhere."