Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

"And maybe you resent me for that?" said Hermione softly.

"I think I do," said Harry slowly. His hands were knotted together, as if he were nervous. She wanted to go to him, but held herself back. This was the most he'd said to her, the most open he had been, in months. "Maybe I blame you for teaching me how to be vulnerable. You did, you know.

Years ago. There's all sorts of ways Voldemort could get at me, besides you…Ron. Sirius. Draco. But if it hadn't been for you…"

"What makes you think what happened to Draco has anything to do with you in the first place?"

Harry blinked. "Well, what else would it be?"

"I absolutely guarantee you that there are people out there who want to kill Draco for reasons that have nothing to do with you," said Hermione in a heartfelt tone. "Trust me."

Harry seemed unwilling to accept this. "But…"

"Self-centered, aren't you?" Hermione asked gently. "Not everything is about you, Harry."

Harry didn't smile. He was gazing down. "Look," he said, and held out his right arm, the sleeve pulled up. "Look at all that blood. It's on my hands, that blood."

Hermione looked more closely at Harry's arm, then wrinkled her nose.

"That's not blood," she said, with authority. "That's pumpkin juice."

"It is not, it's blood."

"That is pumpkin juice. From where I threw it at you this morning.

Honestly, Harry. It's orange."

Harry looked offended. "It is too blood."

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand, lifted it up to inspect the stain, and then to his apparent immense surprise, stuck out her tongue and gingerly licked the skin. "Pumpkin juice," she said.

Harry looked at her, his mouth twitching. "I can't believe you did that."

"Kind of makes all that whining about blood on your hands seem a little affected, doesn't it?"

"Mmm,'" said Harry. He was looking thoughtful. "You know, come to think of it, I think you spilled some pumpkin juice here as well," he added, and pointed at his neck.

"Really?" Hermione smiled. "Well, in that case," and she stepped closer to him, and put her lips against his neck, and very gently kissed him there.

He tasted of soap and salt. "Definitely pumpkin juice," she said.

"And here," he said, and indicated his face. She touched her mouth to his cheek — the skin there was as soft as it had been the first time she had kissed him, when he had been fourteen. "And here," he said, and touched his lips, and she stood on tiptoe and put her arms around him and kissed his mouth.

He folded his arms around her and held her tightly while they kissed, so tightly she could barely breathe, his hands knotted into fists against her back. "Oh, Harry," she said, when they had broken apart. "I'm so sorry about everything."

"Don't," he said, and leaned back a little so that he could look at her.

"Don't apologize, you haven't done anything you'd need to apologize for."

Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were on hers, full of concern, but more than that they were animated and alive and he was present.

Present as he had not been in a long while. He was really there. Lately touching him had been like touching a hollow shell, something reflexively animate but certainly not familiar, but now she was holding her Harry again, feeling just as he always had, solid and limber and a little gawky.

He was cold, his cloak still wet with melted snow, his skin chill against hers, but he was hers, her Harry, whom she adored.

He let her go. She kept hold of his wrist as she stepped back. She could feel the blood pounding in it under the skin. She smiled up at him, and he smiled back. "We should go to class," she said, her voice very soft.

"Oh, right. You run along," he said.

She blinked. "You're not coming?"

"Well, I would," he replied patiently, "but someone's stuck my feet to the floor."

"Oh!" Hermione felt herself flush. "Oh — oh — I forgot. Oh, dear," but he was laughing, and as she took her wand and removed the hex on him, she found that she was laughing too.

They went a little ways down the hall, Seamus walking in front of her.

Ginny looked fixedly at the back of his head, feeling unaccountably guilty.

And for what? She thought. I haven't done anything! By the time Seamus slowed down and turned to face her, she was beginning to feel rebellious.

"I wanted to talk to you about Malfoy," he said, brushing his thick wheat-colored hair out of his eyes with his left hand. She had never previously noticed that Seamus was left-handed. Then again, there were a lot of things about Seamus she had never previously noticed.

"What about Malfoy?" Ginny asked, her voice flat and uninviting.

"Do you know if he owns a shovel?"

She blinked, thrown. "What?"

"Or a spade? A trowel, even."

"Why do I have the feeling that this has nothing to do with, say, Herbology?"

Seamus smiled at her, but his eyes were serious. "I wasn't going to say anything, mainly because Malfoy pretty much threatened to rip my liver out, but he doesn't seem to be in any kind of liver-ripping shape right now, so…"

"So what?"

"What's between you two?"

"There's nothing between us," Ginny said. This was somewhat true. One-sided feelings didn't count as "between".

"Well, what's going on then?"

That was a trickier question. Ginny decided to dodge it by being flippant.

"Why? Suddenly decided you fancy him yourself?"

Seamus raised an eyebrow. "I don't think Malfoy likes me that way, or at least if he does he's playing it very close to the chest."

Ginny giggled despite herself. "Sorry. I was just winding you up. It's only that, well, you don't know him, Seamus."

"I do actually," Seamus said. "We used to play together on opposite Junior Quidditch teams back in prep school. He was a little cheat, one of those kids that will do anything to win. Whatever it took. Every time he was Beater, someone wound up with a bloody nose or a cracked elbow."

"Well," said Ginny weakly, "things are different now."

"Look, I know his mum is marrying Sirius, and so maybe Harry feels like they have to get along now, but I'm telling you — he isn't trustworthy and he isn't nice. He's one of those people who will smile and stab you in the back. Ginny…"

He reached for her hand then, but she took a step back. "I still don't understand why you're telling me this. Did Draco…did Malfoy tell you there was something going on with us?"

"No. He just threatened to beat me to death with a shovel if I ever hurt you."

Ginny gasped, then recollected herself. "Oh. That's…very weird."

Seamus shook his head. "You must think I'm stupid."

"No! No. Look, Seamus…" Ginny knotted her hands together. "If you think I'm not being fair to you…I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have agreed to go to the Yule Ball with you."

Seamus looked at her for a moment in surprise and then smiled. His eyes were not precisely blue: they had a green cast, like blue water in a green glass. "Relax," he said. "All I did was ask you to the Yule Ball; we're not getting married. I'm not angry with you. I just wanted to…"

"Warn me?"

Seamus shrugged. "All right, maybe a little bit. Draco Malfoy is not a nice person. He was a pretty revolting kid and I haven't seen any evidence that he's changed."

"That's not fair. He has changed, a lot, this past year. He's different."

"Different than he used to be? That's faint praise. Look…" he added quickly, seeing perhaps some resistance in her expression. "It's all right. I just want to take you to the Yule Ball. I don't need to hear any more about you and Malfoy, if there ever was a you and Malfoy."

"Well, there certainly isn't now," said Ginny firmly.

"Good," said Seamus, and slung his rucksack over his shoulder. "I'm off to History of Magic — you want to walk with me?"