Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

"Outside manipulation? Outside manipulation by whom?"

Charlie opened his mouth, then shut it again. He knew perfectly well that there was no reason not to say the name, but was reluctant all the same.

"Well," he said, "the obvious."

"Voldemort?" snapped Dumbledore, and Charlie flinched. "Unlikely."

"Unlikely why?" Charlie demanded. "Ron and Hermione have always been among Harry's greatest protections. If they were taken away — "

"If Voldemort wanted them taken away, he would kill them," said Dumbledore flatly, and Charlie shivered. "Such a ruse as this would never occur to him. He is not like a human man. There are no thoughts like our thoughts in his head, no feelings like our feelings in his heart."

"But he must have felt once," said Charlie. "He was born a human man, like the rest of us."

Dumbledore reached out a hand and gently stroked Fawkes' head, and the phoenix hummed again. "You mean when he was Tom Riddle," he said.

"Yes, perhaps then, he knew human feeling. If not love, then he knew jealousy and yearning and rage. Not just this blind grasping after power.

Not this passionless killing."

Charlie felt a faint surprise stir in his heart. "Are you afraid of him?"

"I would be a fool not to be wary," said Dumbledore. "And yet I do not think he was behind this current…situation."

"Then who?" Charlie asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not know, Charles…I do not know."

Everything after that happened very fast.

The girl-who-looked-like-Hermione-but-wasn't gasped once, and Ron spun around. His eyes widened hugely in his white face, and he stared at the real Hermione, who gaped back at him. The moment hung suspended between them, like an airplane with its engines cut, waiting to plummet.

Released from the grip of Ron's hands, the girl bolted to her feet. Ron spun back around and reached for her, but she was too quick for him -

she tore her sleeve out of his reaching grasp and raced for the door. She avoided Draco but slammed straight into Hermione, knocking her down.

This barely slowed the girl's hurtling forward progress — she stumbled, righted herself, and flew down the corridor, vanishing around the corner so quickly she almost skidded and fell.

Ron immediately flung himself after her, but Draco was too quick for him.

He grabbed Ron by the arm, and barked at Hermione, "Go! Go!" She didn't need to be told twice; she sprang to her feet and bolted after the girl, dragging her wand out of her sleeve as she ran. Ron tried to pull away, but Draco spun him against the wall so hard that the breath was knocked out of him. He gasped and his knees buckled; Draco caught him with an iron grip on his upper arms, and held him fast. "Who is she?" he hissed, and shook Ron, hard. "Who is she really?

Ron stared at Draco defiantly. "I have no idea."

"Bollocks," said Draco, and slammed him back against the wall again. Ron regarded him blindly, as if he wasn't there, as if the grip on his arms didn't hurt. "Who is she?"

"I don't know," Ron said, woodenly. "That's what I was trying to find out."

"You're lying, Weasley."

"Think whatever you want," said Ron, looking away from Draco, "I'm telling the truth."

Draco stared at him, taking in the blank, stunned expression on Ron's face. "So you don't even know who you've been shagging, do you? That must be nice for you. She could have been anyone. Anything."

"Don't," Ron said, but his tone was hopeless, as if he didn't expect mercy, and wouldn't have thought he deserved it if it were offered.

Draco leaned his face in close to Ron's, and spoke in his ear. His tone was conversational. "You know, there are two simple rules of friendship, Weasley, and you've broken both of them. The first one is: you don't screw your best friend's girlfriend. Two: you don't screw your best friend's girlfriend." Draco grinned without amusement. "I recognize that's only one rule, but since you apparently failed to catch it on the first go-round, I thought it was worth restating."

Ron dragged his eyes back to Draco's face, and looked at him with dull loathing. "I don't see what it's got to do with you, Malfoy."

"It has everything to do with me."

"Why? You hated me before. Now you get to hate me with Harry for company. What's the difference? Aren't you glad I turned out to be just what you always thought I was?"

"If you're waiting for me to thank you for living down to my expectations of you, you'll be waiting a long time," said Draco shortly. "Even I expected better of you than that."

"You would have done it," said Ron, his voice flat.

Draco's muscles stiffened. "I would have done what?"

"The same thing," Ron said. "If she'd wanted you."

It was a moment before Draco could speak. When he did, his tone was sharp and cold as an icicle. "Might I point out," he said, "that she didn't want you either. Snap out of the dream state, Weasley. She never wanted you."

Ron laughed. It sounded less like a laugh than a gasp of pain. "But you're not denying it," he said. "Are you?"

Draco slammed Ron back against the wall, hard. "One more smart word out of you," he snarled, "and trust me, Weasley, eternity with Satan and all his hellish minions will be nothing compared to five minutes with me and the pointy end of my wand."

"Let him go." It was Hermione's voice. Draco turned and saw her standing in the doorway. She was very pale but seemed composed. She was clutching her robes tightly around her, as if she were cold. Draco immediately wondered just how long she had been standing there. "He doesn't know anything."

"How do you know that?" Draco asked, and gave her a hard look — but it seemed to be the real Hermione, not the pajamad imposter. She had the same tear tracks under her eyes, the same tangled hair, the same clothes.

"Because I do," she said tiredly. Her eyes glanced over Ron, who looked quickly away. "We need to go talk to Harry now — that's what's important."

"And the girl…?"

Hermione shook her head. "She got away. She ran too fast for me to catch her, and then she turned a corner and she just…disappeared. If I didn't know better, I'd think she had an invisibility cloak."

"So she's gone. Wonderful," said Draco, and added, in a low voice, "assuming of course, that it even was a she." Ron flinched but didn't look at him. With a shrug of disgust, Draco released his grip on Ron and stepped back. He looked the other boy up and down once, as if taking his measure. Then he smiled. "You saved my life," he said. "And because of that, I won't hurt you. Not now. But if you come near me again…if you come near Harry again…"

"That's for Harry to say!" Ron burst out suddenly, and just as quickly subsided, as if he were sorry he'd spoken.

"I can't speak for Harry," Draco said. "Actually, sod that. I can speak for Harry. One of those fun side effects of lying to someone and stabbing them in the back, is that usually, afterwards, they're not too eager for your company. But if you want to give it a try, by all means — "

"Draco," Hermione said from the doorway. "Please don't." She held her cloak even more tightly around herself. "We need to go."

Out of the corner of his eye Draco saw Ron wince. As if he had finally truly felt the way she was looking at him, or not looking at him — but then perhaps it had just been her use of that one word, we. A we that obviously didn't include him. Draco felt a savage satisfaction. Good, he thought.

"Later, Weasley," he said, and gave him his most arrogant smile, the charm of which, he felt fairly certain, would be wasted on such stony soil.

Ron, drooping against the wall, kept his eyes on his shoes as Hermione and Draco walked out of the room.

Once in the corridor, Draco fell into step beside Hermione, who was walking quickly and purposefully, her arms crossed. He gave her another hard look. "It really is you, isn't it?"