Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

"Nothing," said Harry hastily. Then he seemed to shake himself, as if brushing off cobwebs. "Actually…there is something I was wondering."

"That much is obvious."

Harry locked his hands across his knees. "It's about my parents."

Sirius looked at his godson, but his expression was hidden by his falling dark hair. "Yes?"

"Where are they buried, Sirius?"

Sirius felt his heart skip a beat. "Why do you want to know?"

"Don't answer questions with a question."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I need to know why you want that information.

What are you planning?"

Harry snorted. "Just some necromancy. A little raising of the dead, some human sacrifice."

"Harry-"

"Look, it was Draco's suggestion. He thought it might help me get closure."

"That doesn't sound much like something Draco would say."

"Well, he did, all right?" Harry's face was flushed with annoyance. "What, you don't believe me now?"

The annoying thing about teenagers, Sirius thought without being able to help himself, was that they took everything so personally. "I believe you, Harry. I'm just worried about you."

"They're my parents." Harry seemed to be working himself into a state. "I have a right to know where they're buried."

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them slowly. "Doon's Hill," he said, and in his mind's eye saw gray-green grass stretching all around him, a hillside blown by wind and studded with tombstones faded by years of rain. He saw a group of robed figured huddled around two joined headstones, a wizard standing by and murmuring the words of a prayer.

"Venite, benedicti patris mei, percipite regnum, quod paratum est vobis ab origine mundi…" He saw it so clearly, although he knew that this was a fantasy — he had, himself, obviously not been able to attend James and Lily's funeral. But he had been to other funerals, he had been to many, many others. "In a wizarding cemetery."

"Have you ever been there?" Harry's voice was calm and steady.

"Once," said Sirius.

"What's it like?"

Sirius wondered what to say. It was very pretty? It was pleasant? I never want to go there again? "It's a graveyard, Harry."

"Where is it?"

"Near Godric's Hollow….if you want to go, I'll take you. After your N.E.W.T.s."

"But that's months away!"

"Harry…I understand why you want to go, and I also understand why you're upset, but closure isn't a simple, easy thing. And there's a reason why no one has brought you there yet…"

"What?" Harry's eyes were bright in the dark room, his black hair fading into the shadows around him. His face was pale, marked like a ghostly fingerprint against the darkness.

"Because it isn't safe. As far as I'm concerned, it's safe for you to be at school, and here at home with me, and that's it. I don't even know about the Burrow anymore. I love you very much, Harry, but I'm not a blood relation of yours, and unless a blood relation is with you, Dumbledore's magic can't protect you. If we go, we're going to have to bring the Dursleys — "

"No! No!" Harry exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "That's like — I won't go with them. How can you even — "

"But, Harry — "

"You don't understand," said Harry, and the wretchedness in his voice made Sirius pause. He sounded not just angry, but as if he had made a bleak realization. "You don't understand and you don't want to. You don't care — I thought things would be better if I lived with you, but you're no different than the Dursleys, you lie to me about everything."

"What are you saying, Harry? You want to go back and live with the Dursleys? Is that it?"

Harry made a little gasping sound, as if Sirius had hit him. Immediately, Sirius regretted what he had said — he hadn't meant it to sound as it had, but before he could apologize or even speak, Harry turned around and raced out of the room. Sirius heard the sound of his boots clattering on the stairs, the door to the boys' dormitory being flung open, and then silence. He waited there for several minutes afterward, sure that Harry would come back.

But he didn't.

Her heart broke as she thought of Tristan, who she had last seen being borne away unconscious, draped over the saddle of the beautiful but wicked Lady Stacia, cousin to the Dark Wizard Morgan, who was rumored to have an entire closet full of enchanted leather corsets with which she bent unfortunate wizards to her evil will. When she had drained them of their vital energies, Lady Stacia disposed of her victims in an bottomless pit which her sniveling minions had toiled years to dig for her.

Rhiannon burst into loud tears of grief. Her muffled sobs drew the attention of the captain of the pirates, a burly dark-haired man who was striding the heaving foredeck of the HMS Manly Intent shirtless, despite the fact that it was freezing out and ice was forming on his chest hair. She had heard the other pirates refer to him as "Sven," so Rhiannon was fairly sure that this was his name. (She was very beautiful, Rhiannon, but not so bright.)

Sven strode towards her as the surly waves lashed the heavy deck and Rhiannon struggled uselessly against her bonds, disarranging a great deal of her clothing in the process. His dark green eyes seared into hers. "Look upon your homeland for the last time, my adorable prisoner," he growled, his eyes hungrily stroking her nearly-naked body with their mesmerizing gaze…

"Hey? Ginny? You awake?" a voice called from behind the curtain drawn around her bed.

"Yes," she squeaked, putting "Passionate Trousers" down hastily and pulling her covers up. It had been a boy's voice, and muffled — Ron possibly? It was too young-sounding to be Charlie. "You can come in."

The curtain was drawn aside, and Ginny saw to her surprise that her visitor was not Ron after all, but Seamus Finnegan. She blinked, but it was very definitely Seamus, from his tow-blond head to his scuffed trainers.

What was he doing here?

He took a few halting steps into the room. He had his bookbag slung over his shoulder and was carrying a quill; he must have come directly from class. He paused at the foot of her bed, looking uncomfortable. Ginny regarded him with even more surprise. Seamus hardly ever looked uncomfortable. Usually he was too busy telling dirty jokes.

"Hey there, Seamus," she said kindly, hoping to put him at his ease. It didn't work. Seamus just looked more uncomfortable. A thought struck her. "Are you here because you're ill?"

Seamus twisted the quill he'd been holding between his fingers. "No. Not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"Not at all." Seamus put down the quill, and said, "I was wondering if you'd like to go to the Yule Ball with me."

Astonishment rendered Ginny momentarily speechless. She stared fixedly at poor Seamus until he began, finally to blush. Then she said quickly, "But — you're a Seventh Year! You're meant to be able to go to the Pub Crawl! And I can't go to that."

"I know," said Seamus patiently. "That's why I asked you to the Yule Ball."

"But why would you want to spend the evening with a bunch of sixth-years when you could go to the Pub Crawl?"

"I don't want to spend the evening with a bunch of sixth-years," said Seamus, even more patiently. "I want to spend the evening with you."

"Oh," said Ginny. And then, again, "Oh. Right."

Seamus just looked at her. His blush had gone away and his expression was quizzical, even amused, but she could see he was still a little nervous.

It was endearing. Draco was never nervous. She tried to imagine Draco asking her to the Yule Ball, and failed utterly. Even had they been dating, Draco would never have asked her to the Yule Ball. He would simply assume they were going together, and show up at the foot of the Gryffindor Tower stairs, looking fabulous and not even a little worried that she might not be overjoyed to see him. Insecure was not in his repertoire and it could be a little annoying. But then of course he might do something amazing and romantic for her, like conjuring a pair of fragile glass slippers out of a couple of socks. And when Draco did something romantic it never seemed awkward or staged or preplanned, it just grew naturally out of whatever he was feeling and was done with candor and grace.