Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

There was a step on the stair then, and Ginny craned her head to see who was descending the gold spiral staircase above them. It was a woman — she caught sight of a long, shapely leg terminating in a red stiletto heel. As the woman reached the foot of the stairs, her full splendor was revealed.

Long and ink-black hair, a red leather corset and black garter belt decorated with a pattern of gold wasps, a thick gold choker around her slender throat. Rhysenn Malfoy, Ginny knew. And also -

"Lady Stacia," Sebastian cried, leaping eagerly to his feet.

Stacia waved a slim had at him. "Relax, Sebastian," she purred. "It is not yet time for your daily spanking."

Meekly, Sebastian subsided back onto the chaise from which he had sprung. Ginny noticed that Tristan was also gazing at Rhysenn-Stacia with his mouth open. She felt a flash of annoyance. Even in a romance novel, Draco still couldn't be bothered to pay attention to her, and only to her.

"Really, Tristan," she snapped.

He jumped, then looked petulant. "You should talk," he said. "After that incident with Sven…"

"I couldn't help it,' Ginny said, no longer knowing whether she spoke as herself, or Rhiannon. "There's just something about a pirate… "

"Well, he was hardly the last of them, was he?" Tristan said hotly. Ginny realized she rather liked him angry — he seemed more like Draco that way.

In fact, if she looked away from his upper lip -

Ginny snapped her fingers, and pointed at Tristan. "You!" she announced.

"Go and shave, this instant."

Tristan opened his mouth to protest, then seemed to think better of it. He stalked from the room. After a moment Sebastian got up and followed him, looking shifty. Ginny had no time to spare for him, however. She turned on Lady Stacia and glared at her accusingly. "You know," she said, "if I'm going to hallucinate Passionate Trousers, it seems unfair that you should be in my hallucination. You're my least favorite character."

"I know," said Lady Stacia, cherry lips curving into a grin. "But this isn't a hallucination, pet. At least, not exactly."

"Then what is it?"

"You are dying," said Stacia. "Your body is suffering, bleeding out its life.

Your dreaming mind lives its own struggle, fighting to make peace with itself, to find a kind of sense in your life. To discover a last meaning which might carry you across that final breach."

"When Draco died," Ginny said, "he saw a river."

"He was murdered," said Rhysenn. "He saw the lands of the unavenged and slaughtered. You have taken your own life, in good cause. It is a noble death you will find."

Ginny looked around helplessly. "And this — this is the way my mind is trying to make sense of my death? With Passionate Trousers?"

Rhysenn examined her nails. "Each must find his or her own meaning, I suppose," she said. "Besides, the meaning you found in that book was only the meaning you gave it. The characters were what you dreamed into them. A Draco who would love you forever and for all time. A Ginny brave enough to fight for love, to find adventure — "

Ginny was shaking her head, red curls flying. "Tristan isn't Draco," she protested.

Stacia lowered her hand and smiled a thin and curling smile. "He is what you always wanted Draco to be, isn't he?" she said. "It seems likely you will not live to see the real Draco again. So why scorn this last comfort?

This is meant to be what you always wanted, after all."

"But it's not," Ginny said. "It's ridiculous."

"Perhaps you don't know what you want," Stacia suggested, flicking the tip of her whip idly against her boot. "Concentrate, dearest. What is it you want more than anything else? What is your happiest memory, the greatest day or night of your life?"

Ginny half-closed her eyes, lulled by the snakelike rhythm of Stacia's voice. "Well, there was one night, I thought — but it didn't turn out the way I wanted in the end."

Stacia reached forward and chucked Ginny under the chin. "Now it can, dear — now it can."

As soon as the door shut behind Hermione, Voldemort turned to Wormtail. "Take hold of the Diviner," he snapped. "I do not want him trying to rush after the girl when his strength returns." Avidly, Wormtail bent and seized Ron tightly by the arms and yanked him upright. Ron was astonished at the strength of Wormtail's metal hand. The grip on his arms felt like hot bands of iron were contracting around his skin.

Voldemort eyed Ron thoughtfully, then glanced at Wormtail. "The boy, also, must be prepared for the Ceremony. His blood is required."

He needs your blood, Rhysenn had told him. Lucius glanced at Ron with slight interest. "Will the ceremony require all his blood?" he asked.

"It hardly matters," said Voldemort. "If he is in the room when the Ceremony is performed, he will die regardless. There are magics too powerful for any human being to experience and survive. This is one of them." His tone was indifferent. "It is the death I had planned for Harry Potter. It is only fitting he meet his end while watching me ascend to ultimate power."

"But Harry isn't here," Ron said. His body still felt board-stiff, but there was note of lashing triumph in his voice. "You never managed to capture him, did you?"

Voldemort slitted his red cat's eyes. "You are mistaken, Diviner. Even now Harry Potter approaches the castle. I have sensed his approach. I have seen him in the Mirror, making his way here. He is stubborn. It will not be long now."

Ron felt the look of horror that passed over his own face, though he tried to hide it. "Harry? Coming here? Alone?"

"Not alone, precisely — Lucius' son is with him," said the Dark Lord. "But he hardly poses a danger, half-dead as he is. I am not concerned. If they keep on at their present pace, they should be here by nightfall, just in time for the Ceremony." Voldemort smiled. "Let's just hope they don't find their way into the tunnels," he added. "That could conceivably delay them quite a bit. There are some nasty…nasty things down there." He licked his lips, his scarlet eyes seeming to glimmer like pools of blood.

"Very nasty things."

What kind of Diviner am I, that I can't see any of this? Ron thought despairingly. Harry — I've failed you so badly…

The door opened then, and Rhysenn stepped through, her demon's face still and white as a mask. The front of her dress was torn, as if someone had clawed at it with desperate hands….a wave of sick faintness passed over Ron. "It is done," she said. "The girl is dead."

"It's bloody dark down here, Potter. Can't you make that light any brighter?"

"No. If there's something else down here in these tunnels besides us, I don't want it to spot us before we spot it."

"Yes, much better for it to sneak up on us in the dark."

"I'd hear it. Now come on, Malfoy. Try appreciating the view or something."

"What view? We're buried underground. Then again, I suppose for someone brought up in a cupboard, this must be a scenic vista of unparalleled beauty."

"It is beautiful. Look at the way the walls glitter — and the stalactites, they look like they're clustered over with gems, all red, blue and green. It's like being inside a jewelry box."

"Is it?"

"You sound a bit wistful. Can't you see for yourself?"

"Of course I can. Great view. Prettier than a Polyjuice prostitute."

"What? Ow. OW! You made me walk into a stalactite, you pillock."

"Hey, I'm not the one who frequents brothels."

"I wasn't frequenting it. I just wound up there. It was an accident. I'm not even sure how it happened."

"Isn't that what Neville Longbottom said when Millicent caught him naked with the Pulsating Peonies?"

"Neville had a knack with plants, is all."

"I'll say."