Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

He spun around immediately, his heart hammering against his ribcage — but Ginny was gone. She must have concealed herself with the Cloak. Clever girl.

He raised his head, and straightened up, drawing arrogance and poise around himself like a cloak of his own. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the servant. "What are you doing here?"

"I come with a message," said the servant, gazing at Draco.

"I´d really rather have some more Mai Tais," said Draco.

"The Snake Lord says you are to have no more beverages," said the servant in humorless tones. "He wishes to see you. I am to bring you.

Come."

Draco glanced back at Fleur, and the blank space that was (hopefully) Ginny. He reached down and grabbed his cloak up off the floor. "All right. Letś go."

The servant led Draco to a room he had not seen before. It was high-ceilinged, and the walls seemed to have been hollowed out of one giant block of stone. There were no windows, and the walls were lined with shelves holding books and a variety of magical and beautiful objects. There seemed no reason behind their selection or the design of the room. Grimoires of Dark Magic sat side by side with books on household charms and spells. An Egyptian cat of clean and elongated lines contrasted with an ornate red, black and gold Russian icon. A miniature painting of a knight on horseback hung above the desk where Slytherin sat, his hands crossed in front of him. He sat in shadow, so that Draco could barely see his face.

The servant let himself silently out, closing the door behind him.

Draco came to stand in front of the desk, his hands in his pockets, feeling awkward. His head was pounding rhythmically. "You wanted to see me?"

Slytherin looked up at him, and didn´t smile. Not that Draco would have expected him to. "I did."

"Why?" said Draco, feeling suddenly twelve.

"Why do you think?"

Draco hesitated. "Look," he said finally. "You don´t ask me a question unless you already know the answer. So letś just pretend you asked me, I didn´t know the answer so I lied, you caught me, you told me off, and now we can cut right to the point. Why did you want to see me?"

"Do you ever worry," said Slytherin, pushing his chair back from the desk and standing, "that with such a sharp wit, you will one day cut yourself on its edge?"

"I have enough to do worrying about being cut up by real sharp edges, thanks."

Slytherin got up from his desk and walked around to stand by Draco. Draco flinched back as Slytherinś hand came up and landed on his shoulder. "Come over here by the light," said the Snake Lord, and Draco followed him reluctantly to the fire, where Slytherin stopped, his hands on Dracoś shoulders. "Raise your eyes to me," he said.

Draco raised his eyes, and saw, with a dread near to revulsion, his own face reflected in Slytherinś eyes, inches away. The Snake Lord held him there like that for a moment, searching Dracoś face with his eyes. Draco glanced away, desperate to look at anything else, and his gaze swept over Slytherinś desk. There were heaps of blank parchment there, stacks of Dark Magic books, and next to the books…

A wave of nausea washed over him. In between one stack of books and another, lay a sword. Or, part of a sword. The blade, to be precise. Long and shimmering, the color of moonlight on water, as long as the blade of Dracoś sword and with the same groove running down the middle. Only this sword didn´t end in a hilt. It ended in a lump of bloody tissue that was only somewhat recognizable as a section of a human wrist.

Without being able to help it, a gagging sound escaped from his throat.

Slytherin turned and looked over his shoulder. His eyes lit on the blade, and he smiled. "You recognize that," he said.

Draco nodded reluctantly. "Last time I saw it, it was part of Wormtail."

"The Living Blade turned out to be more useful than the servant it was attached to," said Slytherin, reaching out to run a hand along the blade. He lifted it briefly, watching the light run down its surface like water, then put it down. "Do you know, Draco, how a Living Blade is made?"

Draco shook his head. "No, but I have a feeling you´re going to tell me."

"Even I do not know all the secrets of fashioning such an item. But I know that the blades, after cooling, are thrice-washed, in the tears of a phoenix, in human blood, and then in the blood of unicorns."

Draco felt himself jerk so violently that he almost expected his heart to stop. Slytherinś eyes fastened on him again.

"You don´t like that," he said. "What part of it? The unicorn blood?

Unicorn blood is very useful. It can prolong life, even save it."

"Then why don´t you give some to Fleur?" said Draco, between his teeth.

"The time will come soon when I no longer need her," said Slytherin.

"And will there be a time when you no longer need me?"

"That depends on you. What have you being doing lately, Draco?

Sulking in your room and drinking enough for a regiment, at least according to your servant. You seem to be able to hold your liquor, which is certainly an estimable quality, but not what I was looking for when I made you the general of my armies."

"What were you looking for? I haven´t got any experience to speak of. I haven´t even got any experience not to speak of."

For a moment Slytherin just looked at him, steadily. He did not seem angry, which was something of a change of pace. "When I was your age, I was eager to experience battle. I assumed you also would want to see how a war was fought, very badly."

Draco refrained from replying that if Slytherin's plan was to fight a war very badly, then he couldn't see why the Snake Lord had any use for a general in the first place. "It's just…"

"It's just what?"

"The world isn´t like it was when you were…first alive. There are different weapons, different laws, even magic has evolved, changed -

" He broke off, not sure why on earth he was telling Slytherin this.

"I count upon that," said Slytherin, nodding. "They have forgotten me. I am a legend now, not real, not a threat. When I fall upon them with my army, they will have no means with which to resist me. It will make my earlier accomplishments pale by comparison. Those like you and will live forever. And the thousands who were murdered to buy that immortality will be a testament to our greatness."

"Murder. You say it like itś nothing."

"Muggles. Mudbloods. Those who resist. Only they will die."

"Everyone will resist. Itś not like it was in the old days. Nobody in the wizarding world expects to be ruled. Not anymore."

"If everyone resists, everyone dies."

"Why don´t you just kill me?" Draco demanded, raising his chin.

"What do you need me for that you have to keep me alive when you know — "

"That you aren´t to be trusted? You cannot fight me. It would be impossible."

"What do you need me for?"

"The Prophecy states that I shall rise to power with my descendant at my side, and that together we will bring destruction and chaos to the wizarding world. Now, prophecies are not immutable. I know that. But when I built the line that resulted in your birth, mixing my blood with the blood of creatures I fabricated out of elements of dark magic, I created something unique. I had always intended this moment. When I have opened the Orb, when the bargain is fulfilled, then I will make you my Source. And when that happens, I will command such powers, I will do such things, that I will be the terror of the earth."

Slytherinś eyes were glowing with a weird black light. Draco almost couldn´t bear to look at him. "Aren´t you afraid?" Draco asked, his voice unsteady.

"Afraid of what?"

"I don´t know." Draco looked down at his shoes. "Retribution."

"No." Slytherin said. "I am afraid of nothing."