Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

Harry laughed scornfully. "Dragon's blood? You think Snape wouldn't have identified that? I might not like him much, but the man isn't stupid."

"It's not ordinary dragon's blood," Lucius said. "It's the blood of argent dragons — "

Harry pressed the point of the sword in deeper. "I've never heard of argent dragons."

"No," Lucius said. "You wouldn't have. They've been extinct for over a thousand years."

"Enervate."

Tom awoke with his back against cold marble. His jaw throbbed where Draco had punched him, and there was a deep bitterness in his heart.

With the cold slowness of a snake, he raised his eyes to see Ginny leaning over him, her poppy-red hair showering down over them both. She was biting her lip, an expression of terrified submission in her dark eyes that was balm to his wounded soul.

"Tom," she said. "You're awake."

He caught a handful of her hair, and tugged on it hard. She winced, tears springing to her eyes, but didn't move. "What is this, Virginia? Why are you here? Did they leave you here to guard me, thinking that I wouldn't harm you? I'll tell you right now, they were wrong. I'll break your neck myself and die with you rather than give myself over to their righteous ministrations."

"Would you?" she said, her mouth trembling. "Would you really, Tom?"

She put her hand to his face, her thin fingers hot against his marble-cold cheek. "I told them you wouldn't harm me, but only so they'd leave me alone with you. I want to escape with you, Tom. I want to be with you."

He barked a sharp laugh, pulling harder at her hair. She only inclined her head, her eyes darting, frightened. He strained to feel that connection between them, the blood-bond that had allowed him to feel her emotions, sense the hatred, disgust and despair in her that had fed him like a banquet. But it had gone with the severance of his magic, spilling like blood from an amputated limb. "Little liar," he said. "Why should I believe that?"

"Because you were right, Tom," she whispered. "You and me — we're the same. The others will never understand me, not like you do. And they'll never really want me — not like you do. They'd be happier if I just disappeared."

He chuckled. "I could have told you that," he said. "But I always thought you were too stupid to see it. And what of your boy — the one who wears your ribbon on his wrist?"

She shook her head. "He'll never love me," she said, and when he dragged his fingers cruelly through her hair, added quickly, "And he's dying — he won't live much longer. And when he's dead, the rest of them won't want me around at all."

This was something Tom could understand. "They don't understand the evil in you," he said. "The darkness that runs like black ink through your Gryffindor blood."

She was shaking her head. "No," she said, "not like you do, Tom." She leaned forward, close enough for him to see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. "Thee to me," she said, and she bent to kiss him, with the trembling shyness of a girl who'd never been kissed before.

Her fear, the desire that forced her past her shuddering reluctance, was salve to his gutted pride. He lifted his aching head from the marble, meeting her lips with his own.

It was like no kiss he had shared with her before. Their previous embraces had been like rape, with him taking from her what she did not want to give. This was an exchange of fire. Her mouth burned on his, her small hot hands cupping the back of his neck, her sharp teeth tracing his lower lip. His body responded fiercely, instantly, his mouth opening, tasting the inside of her mouth, his hands winding in her hair, tugging her against him. He had tasted potions before that tasted like this kiss did: fiery, bitter, necessary as breathing. His bones melted and ran, his blood seethed in his veins. His tortured lungs strained for air, but he could no more have pulled away from her that he could have opened his chest and ripped out his own heart.

Black diamonds swam in front of his eyes. Numb, his hands slipped from holding her, his fingers spasming. Against his mouth, he felt her begin to laugh.

Hermione dropped to her knees. Draco was lying motionless on the ground, where the wall curved to meet the floor. She turned him over. His eyes were closed, a pulse beating hard in his throat. "Draco," she said. She could feel the hammering of her own blood in her ears, the adrenaline of terror pumping through her veins. "Draco — "

He sucked in a breath, and began coughing. Relief flowed through her — he was still alive. He shuddered a breath, and opened his eyes. "Sorry about that," he said, "I didn't realize — " He paused then, blinking. "It's darker than I thought," he said, and groped towards her with his hand.

"Hermione — ?"

"I dropped my wand," she said. "Wait." She scrambled to retrieve it, and raised it in her hand. "Lumos," she said, and light filled the corridor again, casting stark shadows against the bare stone walls.

Draco, who had pulled himself into a sitting position, blinked again and looked towards her, his expression troubled. "Can you make it brighter?"

he asked.

The wand trembled in her hand. "Lumos fulmens," she said, and light like the sun leaped now from the tip of her wand, and the corridor was bright as day. She could see the cuts on Draco's face, the shadows cast by his lashes against the tops of his cheekbones, the blank, unseeing look in his eyes. She lowered the wand slowly. "I think my wand must have broken when I dropped it," she said, hearing the sound of her own voice as if from very far away. "I can't — it isn't working."

"Ah." He sounded relieved. Her heart felt like it might crack inside her chest. She crawled towards him, and he jumped when she took hold of his shoulders and pulled him back against her. They leaned against the wall, her arms around him. She could feel the sharpness of his bones, the labored haste of his breathing. "We should wait here," she said. "When Harry comes, he'll bring light."

"I know," Draco said.

"Is it over?" Ginny asked.

Rhysenn lifted her mouth from Tom's and looked sideways at Ginny, reminding the redheaded girl of nothing so much as a cat surprised in the middle of toying with a mouse. Her gray eyes seemed to glow, her thick, black hair, more lustrous than Ginny had ever seen it, fountaining down around her like black water. Her pale skin was absolutely radiant. Ginny half-expected to see blood around her mouth, as if she were a vampire, but her lips were only a little swollen from kissing. They curved into a smile. "Sorry," she said. "I got a bit carried away."

"I could tell," Ginny muttered. She knelt down, and touched Tom's face.

He was breathing, soft and slow, and his skin was cool to the touch. "Is he all right? Did you..take it?"

"He is missing a soul now," Rhysenn said. "Another man would be dead.

But he has a second soul, and should recover."

A horrible thought occurred to Ginny and she turned to Rhysenn, her heart pounding. "Are you sure you got the right soul?"

Rhysenn looked at her blankly. "The right soul?"

Ginny almost screamed. "Tom's soul! Not Seamus's!"

Rhysenn shrugged. "Souls do not have names. They are merely souls."

"Oh, God." Ginny pressed her hand to her forehead. "What if you took Seamus's soul? Then we've murdered him. And we'd better kill Tom before he wakes up, because if he does…"

"I do wish you'd decide whether you want him alive or not," Rhysenn said plaintively. "It's very confusing." Ginny didn't reply. Seeming to take a sort of pity on her, Rhysenn added, "It was an unusual soul, if that helps."

"Unusual? Unusual how?"

"It tasted of paper and ink," said Rhysenn.

Ginny expelled a long, shaky breath. "All right. I think you got the right one." She laid the back of her hand against Tom's — no, she told herself, no longer Tom, he's only Seamus now — face, stroking the soft, peach-fuzz curve of cheek into jaw. "I guess you're free."