Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

Just don't move.

But Malfoy -

Just stay where you are, Harry! Draco shouted, his internal voice so loud that Harry staggered back, momentarily dazed. When he could focus his eyes again, he saw that Gabriel had drawn Draco close, one arm around the boy's back as if in the parody of an embrace, the other under Draco's chin. As Harry stared in horror, the vampire bent and sank his teeth into Draco's exposed throat.

The first thing she was conscious of was pain; the second, the taste of blood in her mouth. Ginny gasped in air, and almost fainted again at the pain that lanced through her. It felt like a dagger had been plunged into her side. I must have broken at least one of my ribs, she thought, and then, Where am I?

She was lying on something hard, her head pillowed slightly higher, her legs folded under her — she could feet shooting pains in one of her knees.

Slowly, she opened her eyes- blinked, shut them, and then opened them again.

Blackness. Not darkness, but blackness. She could see nothing at all.

Terrified, Ginny cried out in terror, struggling to sit up — and felt arms suddenly come up around her, catching her by the shoulders, fingers digging in. "You're alive." In the darkness, she did not know the voice.

Terror was a live thing pounding inside her chest.

"I'm blind," she whispered around the blood in her mouth. "I'm blind."

"No." She heard a faint scraping sound, and then, to her immense relief, light bloomed all around her, illuminating the inside of what looked like a box made of veined black marble. There were no doors in the box, and no windows. It was a crypt, without any means of escape. "You are not blind.

But I thought you were dead."

She knew the voice now. Twisting away from the grip that held her shoulder, she turned to look at Tom.

He was leaning against one of the marble walls, his face intent as he stared at her. He was thickly covered in blood — his hands, his shirt, his lap, even his hair. But he seemed unwounded. With a jolt, she realized he must have been holding her as she lay unconscious. Her stomach lurched at the thought.

"You tried to kill yourself," he said. Even in the dim light, the poison-blue of his eyes was visible.

She wiped her hand across her mouth; it came away bloody. "I tried to kill you."

"And yourself in the process," he said. "I was impressed, Virginia." His voice was curving, serpentine. "I had always thought you to be both weak and stupid. Now I see I was only half-correct."

Tom, you sweet talker, Ginny thought wryly. "Like you care if I die," she snapped, backing as far away from him as she could get.

"If you die, I die," Tom said. "Therefore I attempted to save you." His face twisted, suddenly ugly. "Treachery prevented me. Lucius' treachery. I will kill him, slaughter him — " Tom ranted on as Ginny's thoughts whirled.

Back at the Parkinson's she had wanted to die — but now, treacherously, she was glad to be alive. Not grateful to Tom for having saved her, but glad to be alive. She thought of poor, dead Pansy and felt a stab of pity. "I will boil his blood, peel his flesh from his bones, and drink from the goblet of his empty skull!" Tom finished, shouting.

"So you aren't going to kill me," Ginny said.

Tom was panting. "No, you stupid little — " He broke off. "I cannot kill you without harming myself," he said. "We are bound. My life tethered to your worthless one."

"Lucky me," Ginny said.

"If ever we escape from this crypt, you will be lucky," Tom said, his blue eyes dancing over her with a bleak amusement. "You will remain the one person in this world I cannot harm or kill. I shall have to think of another use for you."

Ginny, remembering the scene on the landing at the Parkinson's, felt herself cringe back from him. The kisses — his hands on her — there had been a sort of tortuous pleasure in it, like the pleasure of biting down on a broken tooth.

He seemed to read her mind. "Don't worry," he said, with a curling sneer.

"If I raped you now, in the state you are in, it would kill you. Normally I wouldn't mind — " He laughed at the expression on her face. "-but I have hardly the strength now." He sobered, his expression blackening. "I weaken as you do — we will both die here, I expect, trapped in this vile crypt. Such a waste."

Ginny knew he didn't mean her. She also knew he was likely correct — she was still dying. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. "Tom — " she began.

But he had jerked upright, staring at the ring on his left hand. "He is calling me," he hissed. "How dare he — take hold of me, Virginia! Take hold of me!"

Ginny only cringed away from him. With an oath, he seized her by the wrist. She cried out, feeling the bones grind together in her hand. Then a tugging began inside her, as if she had seized hold of a Portkey. A moment later she was hurtling through space, Tom at her side.

Draco's body stiffened all over instantly, and Harry saw his arms go limp, swaying at his sides as the creature fed on him. Harry flung himself forward but the other vampires were too quick for him; he found himself being seized and dragged backward, flung to the ground. His arms were jerked behind his back, his wrists held. All about him was the low sound of the vampires' sibilant whispers. Their laughter rose around him -

And abruptly stopped. In its place rose a discordant hissing of startlment and fear. The grip on Harry's wrists loosened and he managed to pull himself up to his knees, chafing his bloodied wrists and staring with the rest of them, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Gabriel had pulled back; Draco himself was standing upright, pale but steady on his feet. Harry could see the puncture wounds on his throat, dark as blood-drops but there was no blood — Draco's shirt was torn where the vampire had clawed it with long nails, but there was no blood there either — and Gabriel himself was on his knees, his puffed and distended face turning black, his razored hands tearing at his own throat.

Draco was looking down on him, his gray eyes flat as mirrors. "I told you," he said. "I told you what would happen."

Blood gushed in hideous freshets from Gabriel's torn throat. His eyes bugged as his head whipped from side to side, mouth open as if he were entreating help from his fellow monsters. But the other vampires only backed towards the tunnel, gurgling in horror, their hands held out as if to ward off an army of crucifixes.

It was Harry, in the end, who got to his feet, drew his sword, and approached the agonized vampire. He was struggling feebly now, like a dying insect, blood running from his prone body in rivulets. Harry raised the sword and drove it down, piercing Gabriel's heart. He gurgled once and died, flames leaping from his corpse. Within seconds, he was a pile of ashes.

Harry raised his head and looked at Draco, who met his eyes with a sort of quiet desperation. It was then that Harry saw that Draco was bleeding. It was just that the blood had no color. It ran in pale silvery rivulets down over Draco's collar, staining his shirt with a bright phosphorescence.

If he had not known before, if even after what had just happened he could have denied it to himself, Harry knew now. He looked at Draco's poison-tainted blood and something inside him cracked and broke. He felt it inside himself, slicing at his internal organs with its razored shards.

He wondered if it was his heart. But hearts were meant to be soft, not hard and brittle. He stared at Draco in horror. "You're not cured," he said. "You never were."

When Draco replied, his voice was soft and even. "Turn around," he said.

"There's still one behind you."

Harry spun and saw that there was, indeed, still a vampire hovering in the mouth of the tunnel, red eyes hanging on the spectral gloom. The sword was still in Harry's hand, he tightened his grip on the hilt. If the thing took a step towards them he would kill it. He felt like killing something.