Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

"I think you do," said Draco, even more quietly. His voice was sugar syrup poured over shards of ice. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"I don't see," said Ron, fighting down the urge to back away, "where you get this idea you have some insight into my private life — "

"You think you can make me look stupid? You think I'd let you?" Draco interrupted, his very slow and soft. "Your private life is hardly going to stay private the way you've been behaving. Luckily for you I'm more observant than most, but even the most clueless Hufflepuff would figure you out eventually. You wear your heart all over your face, Weasley.

Which, in your case, is a bad move."

"Just because you're a liar, Malfoy, doesn't mean everyone is," Ron snarled. Rage was beginning to take the place of the shock that had paralyzed him. He spoke without thinking or stopping to consider the fact that Malfoy was right.

"I'm not talking about everyone — I'm talking about you," Draco said. "You saved my life — and I owe you."

"You've a funny way of showing it," Ron muttered, perplexed by this new turn the conversation had taken.

"I'm trying to help you, Weasley," Draco said. "That's why I'm telling you that I know."

"There's nothing to know!" Ron half-shouted.

"Not yet," said Draco, and Ron felt a whoosh of relief in his stomach that was almost painful. So he doesn't know, not really. "You do know what I'm talking about," Draco added. "Let me offer a little guidance. Forget about it."

Condescending bastard, Ron thought, staring at the blond boy, whose attitude had settled into a smug sort of curious calm. Why doesn't he just forget about my sister, then, if it's meant to be so easy?

"Go on and glare at me like you hate me," Draco added with a shrug.

"Doesn't matter to me, as long as you take my advice."

"Why do you care?" Ron heard his own voice crack, rage making his skin prickle all over. "You don't give a fuck about me, Malfoy, and you never have. Am I supposed to believe this show of solicitude is for my benefit?

First off, you're a liar, and second off, you're wrong, and third off — third off, you have no idea what you're talking about. So just…sod off, will you?

Go mope around after my sister or whatever the hell it is you do for fun."

A look of astonishment flashed across Draco's face — he had not expected Ron to react this way, and Ron felt a vicious jolt of pleasure at having surprised him. The astonishment was gone in a moment, and Draco's mouth settled into an even thinner line. "Fine, Weasley," he drawled. "I suppose it's as I long suspected, and your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others."

Ron glared at him. "Twenty points from Slytherin," he said.

Draco's mouth opened in surprise. "For what?"

"For interrupting the meeting," Ron said savagely, "and for just generally being a grade-A, all-around arsehole. I'm going to go back in there now, and you are going to come with me, and I swear to Merlin that if you say one more word, I'll take a hundred points from Slytherin. Let's see how the rest of your house likes you then."

Draco lowered his eyelids, hiding his expression. "I guess absolute power really does corrupt absolutely," he said, and there was an undercurrent of mirth in his tone that made Ron itch to smack his face. Instead, he spoke quietly but firmly.

"One hundred points," he repeated.

Draco said nothing after that, and followed Ron to the door without making another sound. Ron wanted to feel triumphant as they reentered the prefects' meeting room, but all he felt was an odd sense of…disappointment. For an insane moment there he'd thought that Draco really did know everything, but he hadn't, not really, and the burden of secrecy felt even heavier than it had before. He almost would have preferred it if Draco had in fact hauled off and punched him in the face, which would not have been unexpected. With a sigh, Ron picked his wand up, and began to speak.

"Who did you get?" Hermione asked of Draco as they filed out of the prefects' room. The other students were pouring off down the hall, glad to be done with the meeting, chattering amongst themselves as they opened up the parchments that would tell them what student they would be buying a gift for. Wanting to wait for Ron, who was gathering his Quidditch things together, she paused outside the door. Draco leaned against the wall beside her, and looked over her shoulder as she unfolded her own piece of parchment and glanced at it. "Oh, I got Ron. That'll be easy."

"Yes, a large pair of pliers to remove the stick from his — "

She interrupted him hastily. "Who did you get?" she repeated.

Draco unfolded his parchment, looked at it expressionlessly, folded it back up, and shoved it in his pocket.

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Oh, come on, aren't you going to tell me?"

Draco shook his head slowly. "Life is a meaningless lottery of chance," he said. "I just keep telling myself that."

Hermione snorted. "I'm getting this feeling you got Seamus Finnigan."

"Bingo," said Draco briefly.

Hermione burst out laughing.

Draco looked cross. "It isn't funny."

"Uh-huh," replied Hermione agreeably. "What's important is that you believe that."

Draco was spared answering by the meeting room door banging open — it was Ron, looking businesslike with a sheaf of parchments under his arm, and Pansy, carrying the empty box that had held the students' names. She looked as sour as she always did. Ron nodded at her briefly, and she headed off down the hallway. Ron looked at Hermione and rolled his eyes.

"Having fun with Pansy?" Hermione said, her mouth curving into a sympathetic smile.

"She's a regular breath of vile air as usual," said Ron with a shrug. "At least she agrees to head up practically every committee known to man.

Makes my job easier."

"Yes, thank God she's agreed to lighten your load of crushing responsibility," said Draco sarcastically. "And once again, I wonder why they ever let you have this position in the first place. Was it one of those

"Collect twelve crisp packets and become Head Boy' mail-in deals?"

Ron ignored him, and spoke to Hermione. "I'm off, actually — I've got to head into Hogsmeade. You need anything?"

Hermione shook her head. "No." She smiled. "If I don't see you by the match, good luck and all that."

"Thanks." And Ron jogged off down the corridor, vanishing from sight amongst a knot of approaching Ravenclaws. Hermione looked after him thoughtfully, then turned back to Draco.

"I've been doing that research we talked about, and I found out some things I think you might want to know," she said, pitching her voice low.

"Do you want to hear something really weird?"

"I always want to hear something really weird."

Hermione smiled. "Can you come to the library with me?"

He nodded, and they walked to the library in silence, keeping a good distance between them so that it was not obvious to the casual observer that they were together. Only when inside the library did Hermione relax.

She was always comfortable there, in her safe, known place. It was decorated for Christmas now, as was the rest of the castle, the long dark wood tables adorned with tiny Christmas trees bearing singing sugar angels. Tiny red, gold and green circular lights levitated in the air like will-o-the-wisps, darting back and forth above their heads. She looked over at Draco, who was watching the flitting lights with Seeker-like concentration, the gold, scarlet, and emerald colors reflected in his eyes.

He glanced sideways, as if he felt her gaze on him. "So, what did you find out?"

"Look at this." Hermione reached into her bag, withdrew a small gilded volume, and spread it open on the table in front of her. She flipped to a bookmarked page, and tapped it excitedly with her finger. "Does she look familiar?"