Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

Snape got to his feet, switching the radio off as he did so, and almost before he knew what he was doing he had turned and walked out of the kitchen, had raced down the corridor to the front door and thrown it open, letting in the cold night air.

And there was Sirius, still standing in front of the door, head bowed, less like someone who was waiting than like someone who had nowhere else to go. His head whipped up as Snape opened the door, his eyes lighting with surprise and anger and — hope.

Snape clutched the knob of the door hard in his hand and snarled, "All right, Black. Tell me why you´re here in ten words exactly, or I´ll activate the Repulsus Charm thatś on this porch and it´ll hurl you halfway to Hogsmeade."

Sirius looked as if he were counting to ten and finding it insufficient. "Because I need your help," he ground out, through gritted teeth.

"Thatś five words."

"Because I need your help, you very smug total bastard," he snapped, losing his temper. "You want me to beg? Is that what you want?"

"I know you´d rather die than beg me for anything," said Snape.

"I would," Sirius agreed. "But I´m not the one whoś going to die."

There was a short silence. Then Snape stepped out onto the porch, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Talk," he said.

In several short sentences, Sirius told Snape about Lupin, and what had happened to Harry and Draco. "If I can help Remus," he finished, "then he can tell us more about Slytherin — heś been being Called to a location, he must know where it is. Don´t look skeptical -

— I looked it up — no oneś ever been brought back from being Called before. It could work. It might be my only chance to get to Harry before itś too late. And I can tell by your expression that you don´t believe me," Sirius´ voice climbed several degrees in pitch, "and I´m telling you, Snape, that if you send me away from here without even hearing me out, I swear to you I will hunt you down and I will make sure that you spend the rest of your life sucking all your meals through a straw — "

"That won´t be necessary," said Snape.

Sirius paused, and blinked. "What?"

"I was wrong about you once," Snape said, taking a secret and surprisingly satisfying pleasure in the dumbfounded expression on Sirius´ face. "I´m not wrong often." He swung the door behind him wide. "I´m not planning on being wrong again."

Sirius looked from Snape, to the door, then back at Snape, as if he couldn´t quite grasp what was happening. Then, with a sharp twitch of his shoulders as if he were shaking off some dark shadow that clung to him, he walked over the threshold and into Snapeś house.

Harry felt a keen shock of disappointment as soon as they stepped through the door. They were outside the castle in a sense, but not really outside. He found himself in a space between two very tall walls that rose up and up, making a corridor that ran from where they stood to an open door in the far wall at the opposite end. It was thickly overgrown with long, prickly grass. He craned his neck back and looked up and around — the castle seemed bigger than he remembered, and much less tumbledown — the battlements were hugely forbidding in the darkness, and there were dark shapes ranged along them.

Guards, he thought, and Draco and Fleur followed his gaze upward, and nodded. Fleurś face was pale with fear in the moonlight. "We must be very careful of those," she whispered. "Those are shapechangers. They are Slytherinś creatures. Each possesses several shapes, and one must dispatch them in each shape before they can be killed." Then she pointed across the narrow walkway towards the door in the far wall. "We are going there," she whispered. She looked at Harry. "You go first."

They went forward in a line: Harry, Fleur, and then Draco. The grass tugged at their clothes. It was prickly, limp, and strangely clingy.

Harry shuddered, shook his head, looked up — and nearly yelled out loud.

Three dementors were looming over him, their black cloaks turned gunmetal gray by the moonlight, their scabbed, rotting hands outstretched. His yell choked itself off in a gasp and he scrabbled backwards on his hands, his heart slamming against his ribcage, his mouth going dry. He glanced around wildly for Fleur and Draco, but saw them nowhere.

The dementors were advancing slowly towards him. Harry scrambled up to his knees, thinking desperately — happy memory, happy memory. He cast his mind back to the night before, lying on the couch in the Burrow with his head in Hermioneś lap, her hair falling down around them. Listening to her quiet breathing. He shut his eyes. Hermione — and the tight knot of cold around his ribcage eased a little bit — but then he thought of her as he had last been with her, in the Weasleys´ kitchen, her small hand in his, freezing cold with her terror, and a black wave of fear for her swept up and over him like a dizzying tide and -

Hands came down heavily on his shoulders, pulling him roughly backward.

The kiss, he thought, they´re going to perform the kiss -

Kiss you? I hardly know you, came Dracoś amused voice, cutting through the cold fog in his brain like a sharp knife severing a skein of wool. Harry blinked his eyes open, and saw Draco standing over him.

Get up, Draco told him, sounding less amused this time, and Harry got to his feet. His hands were still shaking but the cold fog seemed to have lessened. Come on, and Draco grabbed him by the shoulder and propelled him forward. Harry took two steps, and the grass twined itself up around his legs and oozed against his skin. He yelled. Dracoś grip on his shoulder tightened. Think about something else, he told Harry urgently, and keep moving forward, and he dragged Harry, hard, by the shoulder, towards the far wall, the grass clinging limply to them both.

Whatś going on? Harry demanded, panting.

Nightmare Grass, Draco replied shortly. Makes you see whatever you´re most afraid of. Trick is to walk right through it and ignore the pain; it goes away after a little bit. The slower you go, the more nightmares you get.

And it doesn´t bother you? Harry demanded incredulously, thinking that this seemed unfair.

That potion Snape gave me helps. Also, I knew what it was. That helps too.

Don´t tell me. Your dad used to grow it back at the Mansion.

Got it in one, Draco replied shortly.

Didn´t your father ever consider putting in maybe a tennis court or a nice gazebo instead?

Don´t knock it — my Dark Arts background just saved your hide, Potter. But don´t worry, I´ll be sure to call in your expertise as soon as we have to deal with, say, a small box of puppies.

Harry was about to retort when he caught sight of Fleur, lying in the grass on her back. She seemed to be involved in a battle with her own hair, shrieking and flailing with her arms at nothing. Draco knelt down next to her and touched her shoulder gently. She yelped and hit out at him, screaming in French.

Draco caught one of her arms and Harry seized the other. It wasn´t easy holding on to her — she was kicking and screaming and seemed inclined to bite as well. They dragged her quickly from the grass to the dirt at the foot of one of the walls. She went instantly quiet, and pulled away from them, gasping and wide-eyed. She stared up at Draco, who was closest to her. "You´re all right?" she said, in a quavering voice. "You're not dead?"

Draco blinked. "No."

Fleur took a shuddering breath. "What was that?"

"Never mind," said Harry, and craned his neck back, pointing up to the dark shapes on the silvery battlements. They were no longer still, but moving slowly, purposefully, torches raised… the guards.

I think they heard us yelling, he thought.

You mean they heard you yelling. Draco glanced up, then held out a hand to Fleur and helped her up. You all right?