Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"No one is afraid of nothing. There must be something…" Draco said, not impressed, but horrified. To lack fear in such a degree seemed to him an entirely inhuman quality, like lacking a capacity for wonderment or surprise.

"No. Fear is born from caring. I care for nothing."

"Have you never loved anything?"

"No. I have never loved anything. Even Rowena was only a part of myself." He turned his eyes on Draco. They shone in the darkness like a catś. "Love is a sickness. Cure yourself, or I will cure you."

Draco looked down at the floor, a finger of cold sliding up his spine.

Love is a sickness. He had thought that himself, lying awake at night in the Slytherin dungeon those last weeks of school, staring up at the ceiling, feeling as if a heavy weight were pressing against his chest. Wondering if it was possible to feel so terrible and continue living. Guilty that thoughts of losing Hermione actually crowded out the thoughts of his father behind bars, which was what he should have been thinking about, but couldn´t. Knowing that he was being stupid, childish, that people loved in their lives over and over, their hearts broken and reformed, yet afraid anyway that he would be the exception, that he, of all people, might have finally encountered something he could not buy or ignore or ridicule away, that something had actually happened to him from which he would never recover. And they had not gone away, those feelings. That he knew now that part of this had to do with Slytherinś rising, that some of the emotions that surged and broke inside him had their birth in a bloody thousand-year-old history, almost didn´t matter.

Reality came to him with a jolt, and he started, alarmed that Slytherin had said anything that struck a chord in him. He swallowed hard, and glanced up. And saw that the door to the room was open, and a servant was standing there, speaking with Slytherin.

Apparently he had been there for a few moments at least, for they appeared to be in the middle of a discourse.

"— finished testing the blood you gave us, Master," the creature was saying. "It is clean of charms and spells, although our results are not without interest. Would you like to come and see?"

Slytherin nodded. "Yes, I would." He turned to Draco. "Wait here for me."

Once Slytherin was gone, Draco was able to relax very slightly. He began to examine the shelves of books, arranged in no particular order, most of which seemed to deal with the Dark Arts. Slytherin had copies of Epicyclical Elaborations of Sorcery, The Necronomicon, How to Raise Demons and the Dead, and something called The Handbook for Evil Overlords, which didn´t look as if it had been read much. At random, Draco picked up a book entitled The Dragon Glass, which fell open to an illustration of red dragons in flight. He had just begun to skim it when the door behind him opened with a soft click, and someone poked their head into the room.

He turned and blinked. There was a woman standing in the doorway; one he recognized from his tour of the armies the previous day. Long, dark hair and an impressive figure, and the telltale upswept black eyes of a banshee. "Raven," he said slowly, plucking her name from some recess of memory. "What is it?"

She straightened up, and walked into the room, trailed by a tall man in a black travelling cloak, who Draco recognized instantly and with an enormous, boiling shock, as Sirius.

He barely heard Raven speaking, saying that two of the Called had arrived that morning, one of whom, a werewolf, had been sorted in with the other lycanthropes, but that this one was a vampire and that consequently there was no place for him. "We just don´t have any other vampires," she sighed, looking exasperated.

"Alphabetically, I could put him with the veelas, but I don´t think thatś such a good idea, do you?"

Draco tried to find his voice, which had temporarily deserted him.

He was staring at Sirius, who he could tell was as shocked as he was, although he was doing an excellent job of hiding it. All those years of Auror training, no doubt. "Leave him here with me," he said finally, his voice coming out slightly shrill.

Raven blinked. "Beg pardon?"

"I said leave him here. I want to ask him something."

"But, Master — "

"I said leave him!"

She jumped in surprise, then nodded, and left, quietly shutting the door behind her. Heart pounding like a jackhammer against his ribs, Draco turned to face Sirius.

Ginny watched as Fleur slowly sat up in bed. She was paper-white and her breathing was just beginning to steady, but she seemed to be improving. She glanced over at where Ginny stood, wrapped in the Invisibility Cloak.

"It is very rude to be invisible when people know you are there," she said coolly.

Ginny let the cloak slide down to her feet and glared. "It is very rude to pretend you don´t know peopleś names when you perfectly well do," she snapped.

Fleur suddenly smiled. "It 'as been nearly two years since I last saw you," she said. "You 'ave changed. A great deal."

Ginny hesitated, not sure if this was going to turn into a compliment or an insult.

"The Ginny Weasley I knew would not 'ave told off Draco Malfoy in such uncertain terms. I was…impressed."

"You were jealous," said Ginny, rather nastily.

"I was not. I was a bit afraid I was going to be treated to more of a floor show than I wanted. I am not a voyeur."

Ginny blushed furiously. "I wouldn´t — we wouldn´t have — "

Fleur leaned back on the cushions and grinned. "Are you quite sure of that?"

Ginny set her chin stubbornly. "He wouldn´t have. He doesn´t really want me."

Fleur gave an unladylike snort. "Thatś not what it looked like."

"He was drunk," said Ginny shortly, hating herself for the vulnerability she heard in her own voice. She deserved nothing better, she thought, for being stupid enough to get involved with Draco in the first place. Not that they were, per se, involved. For being stupid enough to allow herself to have feelings for him, then.

Of course, feelings couldn´t be controlled. She tried to think back -

was there some particular moment that her old hatred had been swept away as if by a fire, and this new feeling had been born out of the ashes? It wasn´t the same feeling she had had for Harry, comprised of sincere admiration and liking. This was more basic, primal even, as if it grew out of some very deep place in her heart that could be neither controlled, nor comprehended, nor solaced in its disappointment. To her horror, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

Fleur reached out, and put an arm around her shoulder. "There is no reason to cry."

Ginny opened her eyes very wide, willing the tears to go away. "You don´t understand."

"I do understand," said Fleur, and patted her shoulder. "Itś Draco.

'Eś special."

Ginny snorted, the tears fading. "And by special you mean sexy.

Don´t you?"

Fleur shrugged. "That is a fact. That boy will never have to worry about being lonely. He probably gets anonymous snog sessions in the mail. He could have any girl."

Ginny smiled weakly, and poked at a pillow with the toe of her shoe.

"Except the only one he really wants," she said, her voice sounding sadder than she had meant it to. "He can never have her."

Fleur looked at her closely. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle. "Draco is only sixteen," she said. "Itś a little early for 'onlyánd 'neveránd all that."

"Not if you´re Draco Malfoy," said Ginny firmly. "But you probably know that."

Fleur settled back among the pillows. "We 'ave only ever kissed, and that is all."

Ginnyś heart bumped against her chest, but she didn´t change expression. "You mean you haven´t — you didn´t — ?"

Fleur shook her head.