Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

Rhysenn.

Draco's eyelids flew open.

It was morning, and the infirmary was full of light. It took a moment for him to realize who had spoken, and that he was not dreaming. It was Charlie Weasley, standing at the foot of his bed. His hands were on his hips and he looked bemused. Draco suspected he had come directly from feeding his baby dragon, since his face and dark blue work robes were dusted with soot.

Draco sat up gingerly against the piled pillows, and found he could move without much pain. There was a dull ache in his shoulder, but nothing else. "Well," he said reasonably, "where else would I be?"

"Not you," said Charlie, and poked at something with his foot. Draco got up on his knees and peered over the edge of his bed. Harry was there, lying curled on the floor, asleep on his folded Invisibility Cloak. His cheek was pillowed on his hand.

"Go 'way," said Harry and curled himself into a tighter ball.

"Get up, Harry," said Charlie. "Dumbledore will be here any second."

"Nerble," said Harry, his face buried in his arms. "Splurgit. Argh."

"What was that?" Charlie looked as if he was trying not to laugh.

"He said to leave him alone," Draco translated. "He's having a dream about Professor Sinistra."

"He is?" Charlie demanded, clearly fascinated. "Well, she is awfully-"

"I am not," protested Harry, sitting up. His hair stood out wildly, as if he had been electrocuted, and his face was lined with creases where it had pressed against the folded cloak material. "Malfoy, you sodding liar."

"Got you up," pointed out Draco, unfazed. "Now get out of here, before Dumbledore gets here and you get in trouble — or not," he added hastily, as the curtain was drawn back and Professor Dumbledore entered, followed by Madam Pomfrey and Draco's head of House, Professor Snape.

Draco sat back on his heels, and rubbed his shoulder ruefully. "I just want everyone to remember," he remarked, "that I've lost a great deal of blood.

I might be delirious."

"It's all right, Draco," said Dumbledore, his eyes kindly and serious as they rested first on Draco, then on Harry. "While we might frown upon students breaking into locked infirmaries in the middle of the night, the urge to be with one's friends in times of trouble is both admirable and understandable. Neither you nor Harry will have points taken from your Houses. Now do get up, Harry. Just looking at you is making my bones ache."

Harry got up hastily, and rubbed at his eyes in an effort to appear more awake. "Thanks, Professor."

Dumbledore waved a hand, and four high-backed chairs appeared around the bed. Dumbledore sat down, and Madam Pomfrey, Snape, and Charlie followed suit. Harry sat down on the foot of the bed, covering a yawn; to Draco's surprise, nobody moved to stop him.

"Before you tell us what you know, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore began, "why don't we tell you what we know? Now. We were first alerted to your plight when a Hufflepuff first-year student came racing into the Great Hall yesterday morning, announcing that she had found Draco Malfoy lying in a snowbank, quite dead. As you can imagine, this caused something of a stir."

"Mass suicides among the fifth-year girls, I imagine," said Draco cheerfully.

"Perhaps the mourning was not quite so extreme," said Dumbledore, "although there was much concern at the Slytherin table, and several Gryffindors made remarkable scenes." At this, Harry became very interested in a bootlace. "As you can imagine, much haste was made to reach you. You were, as reported, lying in a snowbank, inert and drenched in blood. It is very surprising, in fact, that the blood loss did not kill you. Coupled with that, it is even more surprising that the cold did not finish you off. You were nearly frozen when the Hufflepuff girl found you while she was on her way down to the greenhouse. She held you to warm you up. She had Muggle first-aid training. Fortunately for you."

"Sure," said Draco, leaning back against a pillow. "That's her story."

"We brought you back here, where it was discovered that the source of your injury was a puncture in your right shoulder. The injury was deemed non-magical in nature, and both your hypothermia and blood loss were quickly treated. You may thank Professor Snape for providing us with a potion that is usually used to treat vampire attacks, which restored to you the blood you had lost…"

"Vampire attacks?" Draco echoed, thinking of Rhysenn again, her white skin and red lips. She had said she wasn't a vampire, but…

"You were not bitten by a vampire, Draco," said Madam Pomfrey. "You had no bite marks on you. But we would love to know how you did come to be injured. Do you know who attacked you?"

There was a long silence. Draco looked over at Harry, who was looking pale and serious. He did, however, look better than he had. His eyes no longer swam in blue hollows.

"I was outside," Draco said slowly. "I was heading down to the Quidditch pitch to, uh, meet someone — "

"Who?" Snape's question snapped towards him like a striking cobra.

"Me," said Harry promptly. "Because we were going to, uh.."

Draco floundered, then found his footing."…Work on our homework for our DaDA project and…"

"It had to be done at night, because…"

"Constructing a Locator Charm requires star charts," Draco finished weakly.

"And you couldn't do that from the Astronomy Tower?" Charlie demanded.

"Too crowded with people snogging," said Draco firmly. "Terrible working conditions."

"But I was late," Harry continued, "because I, uh, overslept, and…"

"And I was practicing a bit of magic on my own," Draco said, warming to the theme. "To, uh, get ready for our project and.."

"And he threw a curse that rebounded and hit him in the arm," said Harry with relish.

"I did not," said Draco.

"Oh, yes you did," said Harry.

"I think you're remembering what I told you wrong, Potter."

"Then why don't you tell us how you got that hole in your shoulder, Malfoy?"

Draco gritted his teeth. "I threw a curse that rebounded and hit me in the arm," he muttered.

"Careless of you," said Harry with obvious delight.

"Perhaps a Priori Incantatum might be in order here," said Snape silkily.

"Draco didn't use his wand," Harry put in quickly. "I…I assume."

Draco raised his left hand. "No wand," he said.

"Magid spells," said Snape darkly. "Both out of bed sneaking around after dark. Using curses. Filch would string you up in the dungeons by your thumbs for this."

Harry looked mildly horrified.

"May I remind you," said Draco, "that detention is a time-honored form of punishment."

"And detention you shall have," said Dumbledore. "Both of you, commencing when you return from Christmas holidays. As well as twenty points from each of your houses. I will consider the damage done to you physically, Draco, and you mentally, Harry, by the results of this escapade to be the rest of your punishment."

Both boys looked at the ground. Draco was the first to speak.

"Headmaster…" he began slowly. "Won't the…what will the other students….won't they wonder about…"

"Me?" Harry clarified.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled briefly. "I trust you two to fabricate a story they'll believe," he said. "I have the utmost faith in you both."

"Thanks, Professor," Draco said, not exactly sure what he was thanking him for, but feeling grateful nonetheless. For the vote of confidence, perhaps. "And…we're sorry."

Both Snape and Charlie looked to Dumbledore, who shrugged, and rose creakily to his feet. "Very well," he said. "I would like to see you in my office later, Mr. Malfoy, when you are fully recovered." He looked at Harry, and then back at Draco. "Alone," he clarified.

Draco felt himself flush. "Of course, Professor."