Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

Her eyes told him something else.

"What…about?" Harry was aware that his voice sounded a full octave higher than usual.

She laughed. "How would you react if I told you that it's because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since your birthday party, and that I just had to see you again?"

"I don't know," said Harry, very nervously. "Why, is it the sort of thing you're likely to say?"

Rhysenn chuckled, reached up, and stroked his cheek. She let his fingers linger there, and he felt himself shiver uncontrollably as if he were cold, although he wasn't. "You're awfully cute," she said, the low timbre of her voice sending a pulsing vibration into his ears. "Did you know that?"

"I've been told I don't," said Harry, and glanced around even more nervously. "Isn't it rather bad taste to be hitting on someone in a graveyard?"

"Well," said Rhysenn, and shrugged, "Look at it this way. You were depressed a minute ago, weren't you? And now you're not."

"No," Harry agreed, "Now I'm afraid."

"I get this feeling," she said plaintively, "that you don't trust me."

"I don't." He tried to take a deep breath, but her heavy perfume seared into his lungs and throat, and he coughed. "Why should I? And, more to the point, what do you care what I think? I thought it was Draco you were supposed to be bothering."

"Bothering?" she snapped, and pouted. "You call this bothering? I'm trying to be helpful."

"You could be very helpful by going away."

She lifted her huge gray eyes to his. "You don't really mean that," she said, and Harry was unpleasantly surprised to find that he didn't. No part of his mind trusted or liked her, but something in the buried, reptilian part of his brain was urging him to let her stay and keep touching him with those hands that seemed to lace a shivering cold pleasure across his skin. He thought of Hermione, and what she would think, and felt terrifically guilty and ill all at once. "And why do you believe what Draco tells you?" she whispered.

"Because I trust him," Harry said shortly. He realized he was quite wedged into the doorway of the mausoleum at this point and could not possibly escape without pushing her away. And somehow the idea of putting his hands on her body, even to shove her away, seemed like a bad one.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Her breath ruffled his hair, and his shivered, his thoughts flying every which way like startled birds. This had never happened to him before — usually when faced by danger or uncertainty his mind sharpened to alertness. Now his thoughts felt fuzzy and muffled.

"What…" he began groggily. "What are you trying to say?"

"I told you all your friends would betray you," she whispered. "Don't you remember?"

"Draco," he said a bit groggily. "He wouldn't….and he can't lie to me."

"Are you sure?" Her hand was softly stroking his cheek now.

He nodded, which was not a good move because it brought his face into further contact with her hand. "I'm sure."

"And what makes you so sure? That he's trustworthy? Do you know something special? Something that other people don't?"

Harry tried to reply, but his voice had dried up in his throat.

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" she asked. Her eyes, again, spoke to him, saying very different words, words that he could almost hear inside his head. I know what you'd really like…we could go somewhere, somewhere quiet, and if you liked, we could have sex.

Harry jumped away from her so violently that he banged his head on an ornamental carved angel. "Ouch," he exclaimed. "What did you say?"

"Oh, your poor head," she said, her eyes dancing with suppressed mirth.

"Let me see," and she closed in on him and touched her fingers to his temple, and stroked the skin there. Harry winced, and tried not to breathe, but even with his mouth clamped shut he seemed to be inhaling the perfumed scent that rose off her hair — it was like jasmine and sandalwood mixed with something stronger. She wasn't beautiful, not really, but it didn't matter; he found that his heart was pounding like a jackhammer in his chest, and his throat was dry. He was very conscious of her shoulder brushing his, the swell of her breasts under the tight material of her top, the soft dent in the center of her bottom lip…

"I…" he began hopelessly. "I don't think I…"

"Shhh, Harry," she whispered, moving even closer, and he felt her exhale against him, her breath stirring his hair. If she got any closer, he thought half-hysterically, they wouldn't have to go anywhere to have sex. There was a tightness inside his chest that seemed to be growing and growing in intensity, and a radiating darkness behind his eyes. He felt ill and weak and at the same time conscious of a painful excitement. "I won't hurt you, Harry. You'll like it…"

"Get away from him," said a sharp voice, cold and irritable, cutting through the gray fog in Harry's brain. "Right now."

Harry opened his eyes (he hadn't even realized they were closed, but they were) in time to see Rhysenn take a step back and turn around, her dark braids swinging. "Oh dear," she exclaimed, sounding like a little girl deprived of a birthday treat. "Draco."

Harry dragged his gaze up and away from Rhysenn. He was not surprised at all to see Draco standing a few feet away with his hands in his pockets, looking very annoyed indeed. His light gray eyes were fixed on Rhysenn.

"Honestly," he said. "Have you no shame?"

She smiled. "Are you jealous?"

"No," he said shortly. "Just short on patience."

"I was only having a little fun," Rhysenn said cheerfully, flouncing towards Draco with her skirt swinging. This was a great relief to Harry, who found her continued proximity unnerving at best. "I was looking for you. I wanted to thank you. You saved my life."

Draco gave her an irritated look. "It was a reflex," he said. "Anyway, I thought you were immortal."

"I am, but I can bleed. I can feel pain. I can feel a lot of things."

I bet she can, Harry thought irritably.

Yeah, and you were really fighting her off, Potter, Draco muttered back.

You shut up and let me deal with this.

Rhysenn's dark eyes narrowed. "Are you two…talking in your heads? I heard you could do that, but I never thought — "

"Who told you that?" Draco snapped, looking suddenly fierce.

"It's not true," Harry interjected — his voice came out on a gasp, but at least the dizziness in his head was fading.

Draco shot him a look, and then returned his gaze to Rhysenn. "Why did you follow us here, Rhysenn?" he demanded. "Did you get bored standing around in your little cage? Voldemort not pushing enough food pellets through the bars?"

The bright color in Rhysenn's cheeks vanished. "What did you say?"

"You heard me." Draco began to walk down the steps, and Rhysenn almost took a step back before she seemed to recollect herself. "Call me crazy, but I think if you had a little wheel installed so you could run around in there, you wouldn't be so driven to chase teenage boys around the British Isles. You could work off some of that excess energy."

The color had come back to her face in a flood. "That cage does not hold me," she hissed, his voice a flat whisper.

"I notice you don't deny you work for Voldemort," said Draco coldly. His eyes were chips of gray ice. He looked, Harry thought, rather like his father. "Want to tell us a little about that?"

"Who has told you these things?" she demanded. "Where did you learn them?"

Draco shook his head. "I'd tell you that, see, but I really don't want to."

Rhysenn's fingers curved into claws. "You stupid boy," she snapped. "The Dark Lord will destroy you, and whatever minion betrayed him to you!"

"In that case, I'll just tell him it was you, shall I?" Draco suggested equably. He cocked an eyebrow, and glanced up at the lightening sky.