Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"Gin," said Harry's voice cautiously, "It's me. I'm, um, out here with Malfoy. Would you mind letting us in?"

If Harry had asked Ginny to set the house on fire, she probably would have done it. She opened the door and looked mistrustfully at the two boys standing on the doorstep — Draco, looking startled, and Harry — tired and pale but so familiarly Harry, with the same green eyes and untidy hair and lightning-bolt scar. He was taller, too, and he was holding his Firebolt in one hand.

"It's good to see you, Ginny," he said, although he looked a little wary. "Everything all right?"

Ginny felt her lip trembling. "Harry," she said. "Oh, Harry. We've been so worried. Hermione — "

Ron appeared behind Ginny, saw Harry, and then saw Draco. He didn't smile, but said, "You two had better come in."

Draco looked at Harry, who was looking startled at this unusually cold reception. Harry shrugged, and they both stepped over the threshold and followed Ron and Ginny into the kitchen.

"I bet you must have passed the owl we sent in midair on your way here," said Ron. All four of them were sitting around the Weasley's kitchen table, drinking tea. Draco was also methodically working his way through a jar of peanuts. Harry, who wasn't hungry, had just finished exchanging information with Ron and Ginny regarding the events of the past two days, from the news in the Daily Prophet to the contents of Hermione's letter to Harry. "Pig was too tired to go all the way back to Ireland again, so we had to get a municipal owl from the post office in town."

Harry barely appeared to hear this; he seemed lost in thought. "So, when she left…she seemed odd to you?"

"I told you that already," said Ron with a hint of impatience. "I mean, besides the sizeable weirdness involved in her going off with Krum in the first place yes, she seemed odd."

"I think he used a love potion on her," said Ginny firmly. "I know they're illegal, but he's got a lot of money and knows a lot of people, I bet he could get hold of one."

"But if all he was trying to do was get her to fall in love with him, then what's all this misdirection stuff about them going to Bulgaria, when he's right there in London? And if he's in London, then where is Hermione?" said Draco.

"Maybe she doesn't want us to know where she is," said Harry.

"Maybe she wants us to leave her alone."

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Draco. "Look, if she's really been in love with Krum all this time, then-" He broke off. He had been about to say "then she would have seen Krum in the mirror of Erised and not you," but he didn't know if Ron and Ginny knew about the mirror, and it was rather personal to Harry. Odd to know something about Harry that they didn't. "Well, then, why didn't she stay with him in Bulgaria when she had the chance two years ago? Instead of having Ron come and retrieve her? She couldn't have been having that great of a time."

"She was only fourteen then," said Harry quietly.

"Why is it," said Draco, his voice rising impatiently, "that out of all of us, YOU are the only one who seems prepared to believe that she left here of her own free will?"

"I don't," said Harry irritably. "I'm just don't think that haring after Viktor Krum in a mad jealous rage is going to — "

"Haring after Viktor Krum in a mad jealous rage is exactly what you should be doing!" retorted Draco. "The question remains: did she or did she not run off with Krum? And who's going to know the answer to that better than the Man Himself? I suggest we find him, posthaste, and ask politely. And if that doesn't work, we'll hold him down and threaten to shave off his eyebrow."

Ron cleared his throat. "I agree with Malfoy," he said, looking slightly sick to his stomach, as if the words "I agree with Malfoy" agreed with him about as much as a double helping of Cockroach Clusters. "When we read in the paper that Viktor Krum was in London after all, we got right back in touch with Percy and he told us that all the international Quidditch players are staying at the World Quidditch Club off Diagon Alley. I think we should go there and talk to him — "

"I've been there," said Draco. "With my father. There's a lot of security, I mean those Quidditch stars, they're real celebrities. We can't just stroll in."

"Well, I thought I could pretend to be Percy," said Ron hopefully. "I mean, we do look a bit alike, and I could say I'm Percy Weasley and I need to see Viktor Krum — "

"Why?" interrupted Draco. He was looking at Ron with narrowed gray eyes. "Why do you need to see Viktor Krum?"

"Well," said Ron, "I hadn't worked that bit out yet, but — "

"This," said Draco, "is why you should let me do the planning."

"You?" said Ron, standing up and glaring at him.

"I'm the one in Slytherin," said Draco coolly, standing up as well and returning the glare. "I'm the shrewd, underhanded one. I come up with the cunning plans around here, not you. You wouldn't know a cunning plan if it painted itself blue and danced naked on a harpsichord singing 'Cunning plans are here again'!"

"That is not true!" yelled Ron, losing his head somewhat. "I have come up with very cunning plans!"

"You're in Gryffindor!" sneered Draco. "Your idea of a cunning plan is 'Everybody on the count of three'!"

Ron lunged at Draco — just as Harry stepped between them. Ron collided with Harry, knocking him into the stove and bruising his own elbow in the process. A number of pots and pans clattered to the floor, and the mirror that hung over the stove shouted "Watch what you're doing, clumsy!"

Ron rubbed his bruised elbow. "Damn it, Harry," he said wrathfully.

"Why'd you do that?"

Harry stood up, looking furious. "All right, Ron. We need to talk.

Outside. Now."

Still rubbing his elbow, Ron followed Harry out into the dark garden, leaving Ginny and Draco standing alone in the kitchen, looking nonplussed. Harry and Ron had walked about ten feet from the house when Harry whirled around and said angrily, "What the hell is up with you, Ron, letting Malfoy get to you like that? You know he's just trying to annoy you! He probably doesn't even have a plan!"

"What the hell is up with me?" Ron demanded. Usually when he was angry he flushed as red as his hair, but he seemed to have passed beyond mere anger into a livid state of fury in which each freckle stood out on his white face like an inkblot. "What the hell is up with you, Harry? Did I give you permission to bring Malfoy to my house?

Did I? You know what his father did to my father! You know how my family feels about the Malfoys! What do you think my parents would say if they knew he was here?"

Some of the color had drained out of Harry's face. "Ron, I didn't think-"

"Yeah, that's just it, you didn't think! You don't ever think any more!

What's happened to you, Harry?"

"Other than my girlfriend running off with a seven-foot Bulgarian Quidditch player?"

Ron threw up his hands. "Don't even try to pass this off on Hermione running away," he snapped. He was positively shaking with anger. "You show up here, all buddy-buddy with Malfoy, 'Oh, Malfoy's my roommate, Malfoy's my bestest friend, Malfoy's gonna be my brother, Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy.' And you know what kind of person he is!"

"He saved my life," said Harry.

"He just saved your life to get in Hermione's pants," said Ron in a cold voice.

"Didn't work," replied Harry, trying to grin.

"You don't know that," said Ron flatly.

Harry's grin disappeared. "That's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny!" yelled Ron. "I'm trying to make you wake up and see sense! He's not your friend!"

"I know," said Harry.

Ron paused and looked at him in surprise.

"He's not my friend," said Harry. "I don't know what he is. I do know that I can trust him, at least where Hermione's concerned. And where I'm concerned. He was willing to die for me. You can't say that about a lot of people." Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was already standing up in an alarmingly Gothic manner. "You're my best friend," he said. "You know why? Because I chose you to be my friend. I didn't choose to have Malfoy in my life, but he is and not much I can do about it."