Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

Draco patted her back awkwardly. "There, there," he said, or at least that was what Ginny thought he had said — his voice was muffled against Blaise.

"I'm fine. No harm done."

"No harm done? You could have been killed. Were you dueling?" Blaise pulled back. "And if you were, why didn't you pick me as your second?

You know perfectly well I'm better at Slashing Hexes and Transfixion Torments than anyone else in school!"

Ron cleared his throat. "I'll just pretend I didn't hear that."

Blaise twisted around in the circle of Draco's arms, and looked at him.

Then she smiled, a kittenish, amused smile, her eyes sliding down to Ron's Head Boy badge. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said. "I didn't notice you standing there." Her eyes slid to Harry, and then to Hermione, and darkened. She didn't look at Ginny at all. "What is this, a Gryffindor invasion? Come to see if you could finish him off?"

"That's right," said Harry, with heavy sarcasm. "We thought if we showed up here in a big group, we could kill him under cover of broad daylight and nobody would notice."

"Sounds like a typical Gryffindor plan," sniffed Blaise. "What are you all doing here, anyway?"

"Official business — " Ron began, but was cut off by an enormous clang, as if someone had dropped a pile of dishes. Ginny jumped, and leaned around one of the sheets that blocked off the bed. Madam Pomfrey was standing a little ways away, filling Charm packets at the small dispensary on the wall. She had turned around, as well, and was staring towards the far bed where Malcolm Baddock had been lying inert — only he was no longer inert. He was moving, apparently struggling to sit up. On the floor beside his bed lay a shattered glass of water, knocked off the bedside table. With an exclamation of "Good Heavens!" Madam Pomfrey turned and rushed across the room.

Ginny drew her head back inside and turned around. The others were looking at her curiously. "Malcolm Baddock — he's awake," she announced.

Blaise's mouth fell open. "He is? He's woken up?"

Ginny nodded. "Looks like it."

Draco tapped Blaise gently on the shoulder. "Go see if he's all right, will you?"

Blaise didn't need to be told twice. With a distracted glance at Draco, she slid off the bed, got to her feet, and raced out of the small enclosure, brushing by Ron as she went. Ginny did a double take as her gaze fell on her brother — Ron had gone terribly white, and had grabbed hold of a chair back to steady himself as if he were afraid he might fall over. "Ron!"

she said, shocked. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I — don't feel well," he said, his voice tight.

"Well, you've come to the right place," said Draco.

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Ron, and there was no humor in it and no teasing.

Draco looked surprised.

Ginny looked at her brother, worried. "Can I get you some water?" she asked, and he nodded. She Summoned an empty glass and went to fill it at the infirmary's small sink. The sink, against the wall, was near Malcolm's bed. Malcolm was sitting up, quite pale and very surprised-looking, with Blaise and Madam Pomfrey hovering solicitously over him. "What happened to me?" he was asking. "How did I get here?"

"We don't know what happened to you, Malcolm," Madam Pomfrey was saying. She was in the midst of Summoning packets of Charm transfusions from the cupboards across the room; the flew around her head like a small swarm of birds. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I…I was on my way to the prefects' bathroom, and I remembered I'd left my History of Magic parchments in the meeting room, and so I stopped there, and when I opened the door, I…" Malcolm paused and frowned, a line of concentration denting his forehead. "I…"

"You what?" Blaise demanded, and was rewarded with a sharp look from Madam Pomfrey.

"I don't remember," Malcolm announced despairingly. "I don't remember anything after that…" He looked entreatingly at Madam Pomfrey. "How long have I been here? Have I missed the Yule Ball? And the rematch we had with Gryffindor? Tell me they didn't win, the smug bastards…"

Ginny retrieved her water and returned to the others at a swift pace.

When she drew the curtain back, she saw that Harry and Hermione were fussing over Ron, who appeared to be trying to shoo them away. Draco was sitting quietly in his bed, folding the parchment Ron had given him into a rude but amusing shape. "It's true, Malcolm did wake up," she said, handing the glass of water to her brother, who was now very green.

"Someone must have put a temporary stasis spell on him or something."

"Well, who?" asked Draco, looking interested — Malcolm was, after all, one of his own Chasers. "Does he know?"

Ginny shook her head. "He doesn't remember anything."

Ron drained the glass she had handed him, and set it down on the nightstand. "That's too bad," he said. Some of the color was starting to come back into his face — the water must have helped. "Nothing at all?"

"That's what he said," Ginny replied, setting herself down at the foot of the bed. "I wonder what did happen to him?"

"Strange things are afoot at Hogwarts School," Harry intoned.

Hermione was shaking her head. "Things have been very odd lately. I'm glad Christmas is coming and we can all go back to the Manor."

"Right," said Ron, "because nothing weird ever happens there."

Draco made a face at him, but Ron took no notice. He was looking at Harry. "we're meant to have practice now," he said. "Do you want me to take over Captaining?"

"Oh." Harry looked startled. "Uh…"

"Actually, I'm tired," Draco said. "Harry, you go on."

Harry looked as if he were going to say something, but Draco looked at him, and he shut his mouth. Ginny was quite sure that they were talking, in that way that they sometimes did, so that no one else could overhear.

Talking mind — to — mind — she wondered what that was like, if it was frightening and invasive or comfortable and normal-seeming. It didn't seem to bother either Draco or Harry either, who turned to Ron and nodded. "All right. You ready, Ginny?"

"Sure." She threw a last glance at Draco, but he was looking down at his hands. "I — "

"Darling!" It was Blaise, again, tossing the curtains aside. "Malcolm's all right — isn't it wonderful? Of course he has no idea what happened to him, which is too frightful, but Madam Pomfrey says he'll likely get his memory back over time. In the meantime, she says he can't play in the rematch on Saturday…and what are you all still doing here?" She glared at the Gryffindors. "Somewhere, I'm sure a little tiny kitty cat is stuck up a tree.

Why don't you go rescue it? Take all the time you like."

"We were just going, not that it's any of your business," Ron began edgily.

"Blaise, sweetheart," put in Draco, his tone amused, and Ginny silently bit back a gagging noise — Draco calling someone sweetheart? Hermione looked similarly appalled. "Could you do me a favor?"

Blaise sat down on the edge of the bed. "Of course, anything."

"Could you go ask Mark Nott if he'd mind suiting up and playing with us on Saturday? He's a fair flyer and we could really use him. I'd do it myself, but…" Draco made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the infirmary.

"Of course I can," she said, leaned forward, and kissed him. "I'll go right now," and she bounced up to her feet, shooting a death glare at the Gryffindors. "Honestly," she said loudly. "I understand you have to check on Draco for his mum, Harry, but did you need to bring your bodyguards?"

Harry looked deadpan. "I couldn't help it," he said, glancing from Hermione, to Ginny, to Ron. "They're just so cute, bless their little cotton socks."

"Run along now, Blaise," said Ron. "Or would you like me to take points from Slytherin?"