Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

Look behind you.

Harry turned slowly. And froze. And took a step back. They were shoulder to shoulder now, facing Slytherin. Who stood with his long arms crossed, one white finger against his chin, his eyes black and unreadable.

Finally, Draco found his voice, or at least a voice. It sounded a little squeakier that he would have liked. "You followed me," he said to Slytherin.

"I did not," said the Snake Lord, uncrossing his arms and propelling himself off the wall. "I came here for the Heir of Gryffindor. I was not expecting to see you." He looked from Harry to Draco and back again. "I must say I´m not at all sure what to think," Slytherin went on, and his voice was low. "Here is my Heir, trying, to all appearances, to kill the Heir of Gryffindor. Which is admirable behavior on his part, and should be applauded. And yet. And yet I have to ask myself. Why did he not just run our enemy through while he was chained to the wall? Why release him, and not just release him, but arm him with weaponry? It makes no sense."

Draco didn´t say anything. He stood with his hand tight on the hilt of the sword. He didn´t move, because he couldn´t.

It was Harry who spoke, Harry who looked at Slytherin with two smoldering green coals of eyes, and spoke in a voice that was deadly. "I told him that the only reason you were ever able to kill Godric is that you snuck up and stabbed him in the back. Itś in the history books. You´re famous all right — a famous coward. And I asked him if he wanted the Slytherin line to be famous as cowards forever."

Slytherinś eyes flicked away from Harry. Draco got the feeling that he hated Harry so much that it actually hurt Slytherin to look at him. He looked at Draco instead.

"So he baited you," he said. "And you let him."

Draco cleared his throat. "I wanted a fair fight."

"A fair fight. Thereś no such thing." Slytherin shook his head. But his eyes were amused. "Very well then. Leveler heads than yours have allowed themselves to be swayed by such mockery. I suppose it speaks well of you, that you wish to defend the honor of our House.

So. Carry on."

Draco gaped at him. "What?"

"You heard me," said Slytherin. "Carry on." He leaned back against the wall. "Itś rather amusing."

Draco stared.

"Do as I say," the Snake Lord said.

Draco looked at Harry. Who raised his sword, and shrugged. He looked pale, but not with fear or consternation. His face was set and a little distant. So his fatherś ghost had looked, when met in the afterlife. Harry met Dracoś eyes steadily. How long can we stall for?

Automatically, Draco raised his arm, and saluted. Harry returned the gesture. Stall? You mean until the others get here?

Harry feinted towards him. Thatś what I mean.

It took Draco a moment to respond, and block him. The swords rang against each other, striking sparks. I can´t believe we´re going to do this. Then he broke off, as Harryś sword came at him again, this time cutting from above. Draco blocked him, without much enthusiasm.

Harryś eyes met his over the flashing metal. Like you mean it, Malfoy.

Fine.

Harryś blade cut low, and Draco sprang away from it, crouching as he came down as he had been taught by his father, and thrust his own blade in under Harryś guard. The tip of it lightly cut the material of Harryś shirt, before flicking away.

Harry blinked. Maybe not that much like you mean it.

Draco glanced at him quickly. Did I hurt you?

Doesn´t matter. An infinitesimal shake of Harryś head. Cut me if you have to cut me.

From the corner of his eye, Draco could see Slytherin, watching them. He was smiling.

Well, said Draco, if you're going to be like that about it — and with a grin he brought his sword up, hard, with all the force of his arm behind it. And Harry raised his own sword to reply. In midair they struck together. Braced for the expected sound of the blades ringing together, the grinding of shattered metal that followed took Draco completely by surprise. He stumbled forward, caught off guard, as his own Living Blade (mistaking, it seemed, the sincerity of his intentions) cut through Gryffindor's sword as if it had been made of glass. His blade shattered in half, Harry swore, startled, and put up his free hand to catch Draco and steady him.

Together they stood as still, staring down at the ruined sword. The blade had broken into three parts that lay now about Harry's feet. It was destroyed.

"Well," said Slytherin, breaking the stunned silence with a hiss of barely-concealed delight, "Who would have thought that Godricś blade would be made of such shoddy stuff? I told him those cheap Gypsy tinkers were no good, but would he listen? And now look." He voice had reached a pitch of amusement that grated on Dracoś nerves like needle sawing across violin strings. "Kill him, Draco," the Snake Lord added, waving an imperious arm.

Draco looked at Harry. Harry looked back. His hair was pasted to his forehead in sweaty black question marks. He didn´t look the least bit worried. In fact, he looked as if he were trying not to laugh.

Damn that shoddy Gypsy workmanship.

Draco felt his hands shaking. Adrenaline was still surging through him in explosive bursts. Oh shut up, Potter.

If only this thing came with a warranty.

I MEAN it, shut up.

"Heś unarmed," said Draco, pitching his voice louder so that Slytherin could hear him.

"Yes, and doesn´t that make it much easier to kill him?" Slytherin pointed out. "Consider it a shortcut."

"Itś dishonorable," said Draco shortly. "That was the whole point of this."

"He fought you. His weapon was inferior. It was a fair fight. The fight is over. Kill him."

Draco shook his head. "Get him another sword."

"There is no other sword that can stand against a living blade," snapped Slytherin, sounding impatient.

"Then we could duel another way. Get me another sword. Whatever you have to do to make this a fair fight."

"We could wrestle," said Harry, looking innocent.

Draco fought the urge to kick him in the ankle. "I wasn´t taught to take advantage of an unarmed opponent-"

"You were taught to do as you should!" shouted Slytherin, losing his temper at last. "Do you expect me to think that your father taught you to show mercy to your enemies? The Malfoy family has not lasted a thousand years on that philosophy!"

Dracoś face twisted into a snarl. "I won´t do it," he said, jaw set, eyes intractable. "I am not a coward. Maybe you had to kill Godric by sneaking up on him. But I am not like you."

"You," said Slytherin, his eyes on Draco, full of light and hate. "You are exactly like me, and your duty is to me, and to the line which made you what you are."

"Who are you to think you know what I am?" said Draco, in a voice as sharp as crystal, and as transparent. Scorn was in it, and rage, and fear, and a little of the wild delight of rebellion.

"You defy me?" Slytherinś eyes scraped over Draco like knives.

"This should be impossible," he said, clearly and a little feverishly.

"The enchantments on you are what they are, perfect. I can only conclude that it is you who are defective."

I´ve been telling you that for years. It was Harryś voice in his head, amused and detached and gentle, and it didn´t really matter what he said, just that he said something. The sound of his voice was like sanity, an anchor to reality. Draco looked at him and saw that Harry had let go his broken sword and was looking at him, his eyes dark and brilliant green, and over Harryś shoulder he could see Slytherin watching them both.

"You don´t know what I am," Draco said again, his voice soft with menace. "I don´t even know what I am. But I do know what I´m not.

I´m not your Heir." As the Snake Lord, his face white as bleached bone, took a step towards him, and another, Draco raised the sword, pointing the tip of the blade towards Slytherin, his feet balanced lightly, as his father had taught him. "I´m not your general. I´m not anything belonging to you," he said, and felt something inside him lighten, a weight lifting at last.