Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

"Visions?" Hermione said, and then, "oh, chess," and to his surprise, she nodded, as if this made perfect sense. Her frozen hair was beginning to unthaw, and drops of water ran down her cheeks like tears.

"What do you mean, 'oh, chess'?"

"There's a theory," Hermione said, "that people who are talented at chess have some sort of latent precognitive ability." Seeing his blank expression, she made an impatient noise. "That they can see the future. Just a little, just enough to visualize the board a few moves ahead. My guess is that the Dark Lord was trying to force you to use your Divining skill, over and over, until you got so exhausted that your mental barriers broke down and you couldn't hold the visions back." She was looking at him now, dark eyes wide, lips pressed together. "What did you see?"

"The Dark Mark," Ron said. "I saw dead bodies. The Dark Mark over the school. I saw the Ministry on fire — "

"Ah," Hermione whispered. "Draco. He burned his father's office."

"Harry leaving us, the runic band broken. Seamus standing under green light — "

Hermione half-closed her eyes. "Tom."

"And," Ron's voice thickened. "Ginny. She'd been strangled."

Hermione shook her head slowly. "Ron, oh, Ron, how awful for you — "

"And," Ron said flatly, "I saw Draco lying on a bed in a stone room, and Harry sitting next to him and crying. He was dead."

Hermione recoiled as if he had struck her, then bit her lip. "Yes," she said, "Draco is dying." Her dark eyes were bright with tears. "But," she whispered. "If Harry was sitting beside him, if Harry will be with him when he dies — "

"Then what — ?"

"Then Harry will live through today," Hermione said, and hugged herself through the thick, damp cloak.

Ron expelled a breath. "God, Hermione," he said. "Do you ever think about anything else than whether Harry will live through the day?"

But she was shivering again. When she pulled the cloak closer around her, he saw that her fingertips, also, were blue. "I'm so cold," she said.

Ron rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. "You need to warm up," he said. "Look, through that door — there's a bathroom there, a tub, the water's always hot. Go soak in the hot water and I'll go get you some dry clothes."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Ron." She slipped the cloak from her shoulders and laid it across his bed. He waited for her to undo the strap that held the flask at her waist, but she left it where it was and walked across the room to the bathroom door. She paused there, and looked back at him. "Your visions — they're true," she said. "But Ginny — that wasn't your sister that you saw. That wasn't Ginny." She smiled at him a little, the first time she'd smiled since he'd found her on the roof. "Your sister is fine," she said, and went into the room and shut the door behind her.

Because her eyes were closed, she felt him before she saw him move, felt the brush of his shirt against her bare arms, and the warmth of his body as he came and stood in front of her. He did not touch her at first, only stood close, so close she could feel his breath against her closed eyelids and the tickle of his hair against her cheek. She tensed all over, waiting for him to put his hands on her, wondering if she had chosen precisely the wrong tool to use against him, offered bait he would neither want nor understand

She heard his breath escape between his teeth in a low hiss. Then he reached out, and placed his hands on her hips, just above the loosened waistband of her jeans. His fingers were cold against her skin. She opened her eyes.

He was looking down at her, his eyes very blue. Strands of light hair fell across his forehead and his expression was absorbed, almost anxious, not at all fierce; the look of someone leaving a half-desired isolation for unknown country. "Seamus?" she said, wonderingly, and he kissed her.

"Oh, Tristan!" Rhiannon flew across the room to her beloved. Her frail taffeta gown was shredded where the Dark Wizard Morgan had torn it.

Beneath its inadequate covering, her bosom heaved and trembled like two dishes of aspic being served for dinner during a storm at sea. "I thought I would surely never see you again!"

"Yes, yes," Tristan said, holding her at arm's length. "Don't fuss yourself, darling — and do be careful of my hair, there's a poppet."

Rhiannon turned to her beloved's companion, the frightfully handsome Lord Sebastian d'Oursine. "How can I ever thank you for keeping my Tristan's spirits up during his dark time of captivity?" she gushed, heaving in his general direction.

Sebastian scratched at his neck, where there were a number of dark red marks. Signs of the torment he had endured? "Well," he said in a measured tone, "there were some touch and go moments "

"More touching than going, really," said Tristan, and they both sniggered.

Lord Sebastian looked at Tristan adoringly. "God, you're clever," he said.

"Get over here, you clever, sexy bastard."

It was only as Tristan detached himself from her grasp that he might sidle over to Lord Sebastian and begin kissing him in a decidedly unbrotherly fashion that Rhiannon began to twig that something fairly unusual was going on.

"You know, Sirius, the only thing worse than reading rubbish is reading rubbish aloud. Are you trying to punish me? Have I done something to offend you?"

Sirius, lying stretched out along the couch with the garishly bound book held above his face, looked sideways at Remus and grinned. "I remember Lily used to read these, but I don't remember them being quite so racy back then."

Remus rolled his eyes. "What's it called?"

"Trousers Undone," Sirius read, "The Erotic Journey."

"And that's Ginny's book?"

"She seems to have quite a collection of them." Sirius tossed the book aside and it landed on the coffee table, the illustration of a shirtless blond man in tight breeches face-up. "What are you up to, Remus?"

Remus, who had been going through the contents of a large cardboard box, shrugged. "I told the Ministry owls to get all our old records from my house and bring them here. I meant official Order membership records, but they took me literally." He held up a vinyl disc. "Look — the Bay City Rollers."

Sirius wrinkled his nose. "That one must be Snape's."

Remus heaved another one out of the box. "Hey, remember when we used to listen to Chocolate Frog?"

"Yeah, before they sold their umlauts to Doxy Fr vous and went mainstream," said Sirius. "Peter had such a crush on that lead singer, what was his name, Nigel Heslop?"

"Yeah, he used to dress like him. Remember those stacked-heel lucite boots with the goldfish inside that were enchanted to swim around?"

"In retrospect," Sirius said, "perhaps we should have known he was going to sell out to the Dark Lord."

Remus was about to reply when the door to the study swung open. It was Charlie Weasley, a bemused look on his face. "Speaking of drugs," he said, "Aiden Lynch is in the fireplace. He's got a mad hangover and says he has to speak to one of you right away. Something about Harry being in Prague?"

As it turned out, it was only one thestral.

It landed on the roof between Harry and Draco with a soft sussurating beat of leathery wings, and was still. Its fleshless black hide clung to its protruding skeleton, and the eyes that regarded Harry and Draco were as white as smoke.

"Ugly bugger," Draco remarked offhandedly, "isn't it?"

The thestral gazed at Draco steadily. It had a look on its face Harry did not particularly like.

"Don;'t insult it," Harry said. "What if it bites you?"

"It won't," Draco said, and held a hand out to the beast. It continued to stare at him for a moment, then lowered its head and brushed the back of his hand with its muzzle. 'Thestrals like me."