Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

The Slytherin girl's eyes narrowed. "You think that Head Boy badge makes you important, don't you, Ron," Blaise said, in a purring sort of voice, reached out, and stroked her finger gently over the silver front of his badge. Ron, looking like a rabbit trapped in headlights, didn't move. "Isn't that… sweet."

She dropped her hand, smiled, and flounced away, her heels clicking on the stone floor. The infirmary door slammed behind her.

"Nice girlfriend you've got there, Malfoy," said Ron acidly.

"Thanks," said Draco. "I made her myself."

"See you later, Malfoy," said Harry with finality, waved at Draco, and took hold of Ron's arm. "We're off to practice."

"And I'm off to class," said Hermione, reaching to pick up her rucksack from the side of the bed.

"Actually," Draco said quickly, "could you stay for a second? There's something I wanted to ask you."

"Oh," said Hermione, and straightened up. "I…" She glanced towards Harry, who nodded emphatically. "Sure," she said, and sat down in the chair by the bed. "What did you want to ask me?"

Ginny pricked up her ears, trying to hear Draco's answer, but Ron and Harry had already started walking away, and she had no choice but to follow them. Glancing back, all she could see of Hermione and Draco was their shadows, thrown into sharp relief against the white curtains.

"Right," Draco said without preamble, as soon as Harry and the others were out of earshot. "Now that they've all gone, why don't you tell me what the hell is up with Weasley?"

Hermione blinked at him in surprise. "Ron? What about him?"

Draco's lips curled into a disbelieving smile. "You can't honestly say you didn't notice something odd about his behavior just now?"

Hermione shook her head. She tried to think. She'd been worried about Draco, and concentrating on him, also on Harry, since she'd been worried about him as well — he tended to get lightheaded when he skipped meals.

Ron…? "No," she said. "But I'm sure you'll tell me."

"Tell you what? That your redheaded sidekick is acting bizarrely? And you missed it? I suppose you've been having so much fun playing the exciting

"What On Earth Is Up With Harry' game that you've missed the even more exciting sequel, 'Bugger It, Something's Up With Ron As Well!'"

"Well, what is wrong with him?" Hermione demanded, exasperated.

Draco looked smugly unconcerned. "I wouldn't know. That's your job, isn't it? He's your friend."

"How do you manage to say that as if it's an insult?"

"It isn't my fault if you choose to be all buddy-buddy with an overgrown gingery lummox who'd lose a battle of wits with a stuffed iguana."

"You think I won't smack you just because you're in hospital, don't you?"

Hermione demanded calmly. "Think again."

She was gratified to see that Draco scooted back several inches. "I've no idea what bee Weasley has in his bonnet," Draco said. "But I do know something's bothering him. None too surprising he wouldn't tell you, I suppose."

"Ron tells me things!" Hermione snapped.

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly. "Has he ever told you he resented Harry for being famous and getting all the attention?"

"No, but I know he did. I don't think he does anymore, by the way."

"Has he ever told you that he resented you for having broken up with him, and then gone right over to Harry?"

Hermione looked at Draco in amazement. "No."

"You don't think he resents it just a little?"

"No, I don't. And do you know why?"

Draco shook his head.

"I didn't break up with Ron," Hermione said. "He broke up with me."

Draco sat forward with such suddenness that she felt the bed bounce. "No way. No way did Weasley break up with you."

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, casting her mind back to that night the winter of fifth year, Ron standing in front of the Gryffindor common room fireplace. The shadows turning his red hair black. I don't think we should do this any more, he had said. I think it was a mistake. I thought we felt one way about each other, but I was wrong.

"He did — it was his idea."

"What did you do?" Draco asked. He looked bewildered, and his fair hair was standing up around his head in licks like little silver flames. He looked about ten.

"I cried," said Hermione. "I thought we were supposed to be together.

Everybody did. Even Harry, I thought. It just seemed like we fit as a couple. I would be with Ron, and Harry would be with Ginny, and we'd all get married and have Christmas together every year."

"How revolting," said Draco.

"Well, yes, and the big problem there was that Harry didn't love Ginny, and I didn't really love Ron — and I guess he didn't love me either. We were just trying to fit into these molds that people had made for us with their expectations. So I cried when Ron broke up with me — but I was relieved, in a way. I was always terrified that our dating would ruin our friendship somehow, and then when it was over, and it wasn't ruined, I felt like a huge weight was off me. We tried it, and it didn't work, and now there would be no more pressure. Although Mrs. Weasley wasn't any too happy with me that year. I don't think she believed Ron that he had broken up with me."

"You worried that dating Ron would ruin your friendship?" Draco asked, looking curious. Hermione looked at him sideways — he was a very unlikely Agony Aunt, and he had never seemed remotely interested in her past history with Ron before. But he seemed sincere enough. "Didn't you worry that with Harry?"

"No." She felt herself blush. "But I guess that's what being desperately in love will do to you." In the back of her mind, she was seeing that day in front of the Mirror again, Harry standing there soaking wet and saying all those unbelievable things to her — and she'd barely believed them, even when he'd kissed her and she'd tasted the rain on his mouth — that night, alone in bed, she'd cried again, piercingly and terribly and as if she'd never stop. There were reasons she had for crying, but they were deeper reasons she herself did not quite understand.

"If only you'd figured out that business about being in love with Harry a bit earlier," Draco said, his voice betraying no emotion. "Would have saved you a lot of trouble with Ron."

And with me, his eyes said, although his mouth didn't.

"I don't think of it as trouble," Hermione said. "It was something I had to do. But of course I wish we'd figured it out earlier."

Draco shook his head. "Hard to imagine two people could be any blinder," he said. "Would have thought that little exercise in futility would have taught you something, but apparently not."

Hermione looked at him in surprise, stung. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that sometimes I can't tell if you're both honestly stupid, or you just don't see things you don't want to see."

Hermione glared at him. "Well, we've figured it out now, thank you."

"Sure you have."

"This from the guy who's got his own love life all sorted," Hermione snapped. "Do you think Blaise notices that you look sick every time she touches you?"

"No, but you apparently do," Draco snapped right back.

"It's a bit hard to miss!"

"Right," he said. His cheeks were flushed with annoyance, his gray eyes burning. "Especially if you're watching."

"I am not — " Hermione began, and checked herself as Madam Pomfrey stuck her head around the side of one of the hanging sheets, and glared.

"Do not excite the patient," she said severely, and walked away sniffing.

Draco said something unintelligible.

"What?" Hermione demanded sharply.

Draco flashed her a vexed look. "I said," he said through his teeth, "that this was not what I wanted you to stay and talk to me about."

"I didn't bring it up. And I'm not sure I even want to hear what your problem is any more!" she snapped, and started to stand up.