Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

Some of the anger had faded out of Ron's expression. He looked tired now, leaning against the side of the house with his left hand cradling his bruised elbow. "I just don't get where Malfoy's trustworthy."

"Two reasons," said Harry. "One: Hermione loves him and as we all know, she is not stupid."

"You're losing me again," said Ron. "Why is it okay that Hermione loves him?"

"I said she loved him, I didn't say she was in love with him. She loves you, too, if it comes down to that, and I'm not beating the crap out of you, am I?"

Ron sighed. "You're either hugely self-confident or woefully deluded," he said, "and I'm not sure which."

"The second reason," said Harry, holding up a finger, "and the most important…" He pulled his jacket open, unzipped an inside pocket, and took out a very battered object, which he handed to Ron.

Ron stared. "The Sneakoscope….the one I bought for you in Cairo! I didn't even know you still had it."

Harry was smiling. "It never goes off when Malfoy's around," he said. "Ergo…he's trustworthy."

"Ergo….it's broken," said Ron, but smiled grudgingly back.

"Nuh-uh," said Harry. "It's gone off a couple other times. When Malfoy and I were talking to Lupin; and I'm pretty sure there was stuff he wasn't telling us."

"Really?" said Ron, interested. "Like what?"

"Well, different things. And when we went into his office he shoved his copy of the Daily Prophet into his desk. I think he didn't want me reading about the Dementors vanishing."

"Well, he knows you're sort of…allergic to Dementors," said Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry, "But I can't believe he thinks I'm as fragile as all that. I mean after everything I've been through — " He glanced at Ron.

"Everything we've been through, I should say. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you." Harry looked faintly embarrassed now, but plowed ahead bravely. "When Sirius and Narcissa get married, Malfoy'll be my brother, technically…but you're my brother, really. I mean, if I could choose a brother, it'd be you."

Ron was now slightly pink around the ears, but looked pleased.

"Well," he said. "I mean. Same here."

Harry looked at him and grinned. "Now what? Do we share a manly embrace?"

"Nah. I think we're too inhibited." He hit Harry lightly on the shoulder. "I think we do that instead."

"Right," said Harry, and hit him back. "And then I think we'd better go back inside, before your sister eviscerates Malfoy with a toasting fork."

In terms of his assessment of the success of Draco and Ginny's interaction, Harry was not far off. As soon as Harry and her brother had left the kitchen, Ginny walked over to the table, sat down in a chair, crossed her arms, and glared at Draco.

He looked back at her, unfazed by her glare. He was used to being glared at. "You look different," he said.

"Good different or bad different?" said Ginny, with unwilling curiosity.

"Good different," said Draco. "You just got back from some foreign exchange program, didn't you?"

"Yes," said Ginny, playing absentmindedly with her tea saucer.

"Have you traveled much?"

"Not unless you count the time my father tried to sell me to itinerant trolls."

Ginny frowned at Draco, who was looking back at her with a look of bland amusement on his face. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"If I was trying to be funny," Draco assured her, "you would be rolling around on the ground laughing."

"Still think a lot of yourself, I see," said Ginny. "Same old Malfoy."

Draco's eyes flashed. "Still in love with Harry, I see," he said with soft malice. "Same old Ginny."

Going scarlet, Ginny slammed her tea saucer down on the table and stood up. "No wonder Hermione picked Harry over you," she said as nastily as she possibly could. "You're hateful."

And she stormed off.

Draco watched her go. "Was it something I said?" he yelled after her, but she was out of earshot, so this was unsatisfying.

At that moment, the screen door opened, and Ron and Harry came in. Ron looked pointedly at the empty space where his sister had been sitting. "Where's Ginny?"

Draco had wiped the look of anger off his face and was looking innocent. "She ran off," he said.

"What did you do to scare her away, Malfoy?"

"Nothing," said Draco blandly, "She is afraid of her love for me."

Ron looked as if he were about to say something, but Harry interrupted him. "Can we return to the matter at hand?" he said. "As in Hermione, and where she's got to?"

"Right," said Ron and Draco together.

Harry took a deep breath. "Okay. We're going to have to look through Hermione's stuff. See if there's any clue as to where she might be. But I, uh, don't want to do it. Draco…how do you feel about going through her stuff without permission?"

"I feel pretty okay about it," said Draco.

"Somehow this is not surprising," said Harry.

"Right then," said Draco, and got up. "I'm off," and he took off running up the stairs. They heard him open the door to Hermione's room, then close it behind him. Then there was silence.

Harry and Ron looked at one another. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry, and got to his feet. They clattered up the stairs together and paused in front of the door to Hermione's room.

"Malfoy!" yelled Harry. "Did you find anything yet?"

"No!" Draco yelled back. "But I read her diary and tried on all her clothes."

Rolling his eyes, Ron pushed the door open. Draco was standing in the center of Hermione's room, his arms crossed over his chest and an odd expression on his face. The room was beautifully neat, as Hermione's room always was. Her trunk lay, untouched, on her bed.

Harry grinned, he couldn't help it. "You couldn't do it!" he crowed.

Draco looked very cross indeed. "I tried," he said. "I tried to go through her stuff, but I got these weird twisty feelings in my stomach."

"On Earth, we call those scruples," said Ron.

"Oh for goodness sake!" said an impatient voice. It was Ginny. She squeezed between Harry and Ron and stalked into the room. "Let me do it. I'm a girl, she's a girl, it's for her own good. Now back off, Malfoy," she snapped, and Draco, to his own surprise, did so, giving Ginny space to unlock Hermione's trunk and rifle through it. She did so, and, finding nothing, turned her attention to the desk, the drawers of which turned out to be mostly empty. Under the desk, however, she found a crumpled piece of paper, which she unfolded, read, and handed wordlessly to Harry.

He looked at it, and bit his lip. It was the letter that Hermione had started writing the day before and never finished, unable to find the right appellation for Harry. All it said was: dearest Harry…darling Harry…Harry, my love.

He looked up, and met Ginny's eyes across the room. "You don't really think there's the slightest chance she went off with Viktor of her own free will, do you?" said Ginny, sounding tired. "Harry? Do you?"

He looked down at the paper again, then folded it up and put it in his pocket. "Let's go talk to Viktor Krum," he said.

"Hooray!" said Draco. "Let's go kick Viktor Krum's ass."

"We are not going to kick his ass," said Ron. "We are going to pump him for information."

"Right," agreed Draco cheerfully. "And if that doesn't work, then ass-kicking makes a solid backup plan."

"Speaking of plans," said Harry, and turned to Draco, "What was your brilliant plan for getting us into the London Quidditch Club?"

"Er, hello," said Harry to the security wizard at the front desk of the Quidditch Club, which turned out to be a large and extremely beautiful hotel-like building off of Diagon Alley. It was set back from the road, but they had recognized it immediately as they flew over it by the flag that fluttered from its roof: two crossed broomsticks on a red background, surrounded by a circle of golden stars. "I'm Harry Potter, and I want to see Viktor Krum."