Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"No!" She placed the palms of her hands flat against his chest, and stared at him, trying desperately to communicate some of the intensity of what she was feeling. "Thatś not true! You´re not responsible for other peopleś actions. Just being what you are -

even if you are the Heir of Slytherin — that doesn´t make you evil."

"It does in my eyes," said Draco, his voice very bitter. "It does in Harryś eyes, and Hermioneś eyes. It does in the eyes of everyone with eyes. Thatś exactly what it makes me."

Ginny shook her head. "Itś not what you are that matters. Itś what you do, what you´ve done. Haven´t you done enough — haven´t you proved you aren´t like your father? Didn´t you stand up to him, didn´t you save Hermioneś life, just like Harry would have-"

"Oh, bloody Harry!" he yelled suddenly. He was paper-white with rage, his eyes blazing with a gray and stellar fire that was frightening to see. He so rarely yelled that this was, in fact, alarming as well. "I´m not Harry! I will never be Harry! If I ever acted like him, it was only because of a spell. Can´t you get that through your head?"

"Listen to me. Every bit of goodness in you does not come from Harry. If you don´t believe yourself, believe me. I can feel evil in people. I felt it in Slytherin when he came into our house. I never felt it from you. You´ve often been a hateful, miserable git, but you were never evil. So you can just…stop. Stop with this whole "I´m the Dark Prince of Evil" business. Because you aren´t. You´re just a person, Draco Malfoy, just a person like anyone else. And your problem isn´t that you´re evil. Itś that you´re scared. You´re always running away. You ran away from the Manor when you thought Harry and the rest of them didn´t trust you any more, and then you ran away from me when I told you to go home. You even ran away from Snape. You kept the sword because it gave you a reason to run away from Harry and Hermione and all the things in your life you can´t face, and then you tried to run away from the darkness it conjured up but you can´t, and all you´re doing is running away from yourself and falling farther and farther away from anyone who could help you. You had what you wanted, you know? A family, people who cared about you. And you ran away from it! 'Oh, I´ve got to go, I´m a danger to everyone else, I´m so evil, somebody smash me in the head already, blah blah blah.´

What a bunch of self-indulgent crap!" She poked him hard in the chest with her finger, and he actually goggled at her in astonishment. "Who says you have to sit here while these huge events you´re so excited about blow up all around you? Why don´t you fight? Because I don´t know about you, but I´d rather make a mistake and do something than be frightened into doing nothing!"

She caught herself up short, gasping as if she´d run a marathon.

What on earth had she just said? She´d been shouting — at Draco -

her ears were still ringing. Astonished, she raised her face slowly and saw him, looking down at her, the oddest sort of expression in his eyes. "Draco-" her voice cracked. "I´m so-"

— Sorry, she was about to say, but before she had a chance to say the word, before she had barely a chance even to think it, Draco caught her by the arms, pulled her forward, and kissed her hard.

It was nothing like the brief and icy kiss they had shared in her bedroom. Possibly from their proximity to the fire, possibly from the alcohol in his blood, possibly from something else altogether, his skin was no longer cold, but the temperature of her own burning blood. She felt the heat of his hands on her shoulders, scorching as his fingers ran down her back, burning through her dress. Her insides seemed to liquefy, transforming into to molten metal, and the heat ran through and through her, scorching her veins, turning her bones to glass.

When he lifted his mouth off hers she felt lost, and caught at him, a short involuntary clasping at his shirt, but he had only moved to pull her closer (although, she thought, surely they couldn´t get any closer, it felt to her already as if every inch of their bodies was touching) and his hand slid somehow into the nonexistent space between them and began to fumble with the fastenings of her clothes. It was a very slight fumble, but noticeable, and rather endearing. It meant he was nervous. Good. So he should be.

That made her giggle. She let go of his shirt and giggled helplessly against his mouth, leaning into him. He pulled back a fraction, and the gray eyes looked down at her, half-lidded and sleepy and curious. "Nobody I´ve kissed has ever laughed at me before," he said, amused.

Ginny couldn´t answer. She was still spluttering. It wasn´t that funny, and yet she couldn´t quite stop giggling. Nerves, she thought to herself. Do shut up. But it was no use.

"Letś see how long you can keep that up if I do this," he said, with a wicked sort of smirk, and his mouth went to her ear, and did something very interesting there that made her knees turn to water.

Oh dear. Now she felt as if she were going to faint. His lips traveled down to her throat, and did something there that was even more interesting and she found that she wasn´t giggling any more, only clutching at him, her hands winding into his hair, which was impossibly fine and delicate and soft, as his mouth moved back up to hers, and all thought dissolved, or at least all ability to separate thoughts into cogent threads of consciousness. All that mattered was his mouth on hers, his heart pounding against her own, and she wanted to drown in it, wanted to drown in him, in the hard grip of his arms on her back, the softness of his mouth, the pressure of his body —

"Ów long are you two planning to continue with this?" came an irritable voice from the vicinity of the bed. "Because I was trying to sleep through it, but quite 'onestly, you are making a great deal of noise and it is very embarrassing."

Ginny felt as if someone had just doused her with an enormous bucket of ice-cold water. She leaped back from Draco with a little scream, and whipped around.

Fleur Delacour was sitting up in the bed, the blankets tangled around her waist, although one long slender leg was visible poking out from beneath them. She wore a luminous white nightgown that had slipped partially off her shoulders, and her silver hair showered down around her like a sheet of sparkling glass. She looked astoundingly beautiful and Ginny loathed her with a passion so intense she found herself completely unable to say anything.

Instead, she just gaped.

Draco of course was under no such restriction. "Bugger," he said, with feeling. "Fleur. I´d forgotten all about you."

"That much," said Fleur, looking imperious, "was obvious."

Draco shook his head. Looking at him, Ginny was startled to realize she had managed to get more of his clothes off than she thought.

His shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, a fact which didn´t seem to bother him at all as he stood there, gazing at Fleur irritably. "Well, you should have said something," he snapped.

"Like what? "Voila!?´ Please. You were busy." Fleur swung her leg back and forth impatiently and the tiny silver chain around her delicate ankle glimmered in the firelight. "I thought you were partial to brunettes, Draco," she added with a glimmer of a smirk. "This is a fascinating new development. She does have the cutest little freckles. But," and she opened her eyes very wide, "Can she make you go Boom?"

Ginny had had enough. She rounded on Fleur. "You will not talk about me like I´m not here!"

Fleur narrowed her beautiful eyes. "I am sorry," she purred, in a voice so syrupy you could have poured it on a waffle. "I think I 'ave forgotten your name."