Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

Ron returned her look with a very peculiar expression indeed. "Sure, if it's important."

"It's important," said Hermione, and yanked Harry after her with such suddenness that his glass flew out of his hand; she saw Ron catch it in midair out of the corner of her eye. She was vaguely aware of Blaise calling after them, something about the boys outside throwing snowballs at unwary snogging couples, but Hermione paid no attention. She pushed the front door of the Three Broomsticks open, pulled Harry after her, and didn't stop until she was at the foot of the stairs.

"Okay," said Harry, once she had paused. She turned to look at him; he seemed bemused. "That was a credible imitation of a bat out of hell.

What's wrong?"

Hermione looked at him, realizing she was out of breath. The cold wind was already striking color into his cheeks, and in the dim light coming from the Three Broomsticks, his eyes were very green. "I just…wanted to be alone with you," she said lamely.

"Okay," said Harry again, very reasonably. "Why?"

She opened her mouth to respond, then paused as a group of giggling Ravenclaw girls pushed past them and began mounting the stairs. With a sigh, Hermione looked up and down the street for somewhere they could go. The year before she and Ron had always gone around to the alley behind the Three Broomsticks to talk and be alone…she glanced to the left and saw that the small iron gate that barred the way was still there. She gestured for Harry to follow her and led him quickly towards the alley entrance. She opened the gate with a quick Alohomora, and then she and Harry were through the gate and he was closing it behind them. It was a narrow, dead-end alley, lit only by the lights coming from the windows of the Three Broomsticks. The cobblestones underfoot were slick with a sheen of ice and there were empty butterbeer and Dragon's Blood vodka boxes stacked haphazardly against the walls.

Harry looked around, confused — at the bare stone walls, the shadowy darkness, the narrow strip of starry sky overhead. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked, and turned to look at her. The wind blew his black hair across his face and in the sharp-edged moonlight, she could see herself reflected in his eyes.

For a moment, she stood there, unsure. She had only wanted to get out of that room, to be alone with Harry. But now they were outside, in the bitter cold air, the sky above full of stars and wind and she had nothing she could say to him. And the night was lovely. Everything seemed powdered with diamonds, even the narrow dirty alleyway and the empty boxes stacked against the wall. The starlight tipped Harry's hair with silver, glazed his bare skin with platinum where the collar of his shirt fell away from his throat and starred each pitch-black eyelash with jewelry light.

Her body trembled when she looked at him, as if it knew things she didn't know.

He had been looking down at her, half-inquiring, half-amused, and then whatever he saw in her eyes drove the amusement from his expression. He caught his breath, and she saw the pulse at the base of his throat begin to pound, his blood stirring as hers did.

"Hermione…" he began, and despite all her misgivings she pulled him close, hard against her, and kissed him.

Draco looked at her without surprise, as if he had expected to see her there. "Hello, Ginny," he said. "Sneaking off to Hogsmeade, are you? I'm afraid I'll have to report you."

She smiled. She couldn't help it. He was beautiful in the starlight, even more so than usual. His silver hair and eyes reflected the pale light like mirrors, and the shadows described the fine bones of his face. Seamus was handsome, but…realizing she shouldn't be thinking of Seamus, she thrust the cup she was holding in her hand towards Draco awkwardly. "I brought you some hot tea," she said. "I thought you might be cold out here."

Coming closer, Draco took the cup from her politely. "Thank you," he said. "Nice of you to think of me, especially when you're busy with your date and all."

"Well, I.."

"Or were you bored?" His light eyes raked her face with amusement.

"Dancing with Captain Cardboard not all it's cracked up to be?"

"Don't. Seamus is a wonderful guy and…"

"You know, I hit him with a teakettle once and he cried like a baby."

"Draco, he was a baby. He was four. Let it go."

"I've let it go. It's gone. Look, if you're happy I'm happy for you. We can…double date." Draco looked at his cup of hot tea, and then drained it in one gulp, as if he were hoping there might be alcohol in it. (There wasn't.) He crumpled the empty cup and tossed it towards a rosebush. It landed among the brambles, and a small flower fairy climbed out along a branch, looked disapprovingly at Draco, and vanished with the cup in hand.

"Well, thanks for being happy for me," Ginny said. "Really."

"Think nothing of it."

"Now that I've got Seamus, we can be friends again without Blaise minding," she added, brushing a stray curl of hair behind her ear. She was aware that she was provoking him, but for some reason she didn't feel she could stop. "Isn't that wonderful?"

"Right." His silver eyes were long and unreadable. "Friends."

"I mean, that was part of the problem, wasn't it? Blaise. She doesn't like me."

"I'm not sure she likes anyone," he said, which was no kind of answer.

"She must like you," Ginny said.

"I wouldn't bet money on it," said Draco, made a face, and sat down on the nearest stone bench, leaning on his hands. He stretched out his long legs in front of him, and looked moodily down at the tips of his boots, which gleamed, black and polished, in the moonlight. "I think half the reason she goes out with me is her parents. They're a piece of work." He sighed. "I'd rather not talk about Blaise, actually."

"Do you mind missing your Pub Crawl?" Ginny asked him.

Draco shrugged. "Not so much. I really just wanted to be alone." He checked himself at her expression. "It's all right — I was getting a bit lonely. Sit down."

Ginny bit her lip. She knew she should go back inside — she had told Seamus she was going upstairs to get another cloak, as she was cold, and she wasn't sure how long that excuse would hold her. "All right," she said.

"Just for a minute," and she sat down, as far away from him as she could, which on the tiny bench wasn't very far at all. "I'm glad you're better," she added, conversationally. She saw him begin to smile, and added quickly, "Harry was really worried, and he's been so down lately…"

"Uh-huh," said Draco neutrally. "He seems better though, doesn't he?"

"I suppose…well, you could see into his head if you really wanted to, couldn't you? You tell me."

"I probably could," he said. "But I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

Draco shrugged. "I respect his privacy." He tilted his head up to look at the sky, his eyes thoughtful. His silver hair streamed starlight. "Or maybe I just don't want to know what he's thinking."

"Don't you trust him?"

"Of course I do. But you can't always control what you think. What you dream about, what you want. If you could, there would be no need for such a thing as self-restraint."

Ginny shivered, and Draco moved closer to her, as if on instinct. She wondered if he realized how close they were sitting. "Harry has plenty of self-restraint," she said, in a voice that sounded thready to her own ears.

Draco looked at her, almost as if he were surprised. "No, he doesn't," he said.

"Of course he does! Think of the things he's done. What kind of self-control it must have taken to bring Cedric's body back to school — when he knew what he was facing — and when he was in the Chamber of Secrets, with me-"

"Right," Draco interrupted, a bit irritably. "Thank you, I can do without a rendition of Harry's Potter's Greatest Hits."