Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

Draco stood where he was, feeling awkward. He looked down at the floor and saw the sword at his feet. And blinked at it. Its hilt was devoid of any stain, as if it had drunk swallowed up the blood spilled on it. He suppressed an involuntary shudder, bent down, and took the hilt in his hand. When he straightened up, he saw that the others were still standing together. Sirius had his hand on Harryś shoulder, and Harry was talking in a sharp, excited voice, audible even across the room, "The cloak? They took my dadś cloak? We have to get it back — "

"What we have to do is get out of here before his minions get back," said Sirius, trying to turn Harry around to face him, but Harry pulled out of his grasp.

"Itś the only thing I´ve got that belonged to my father — "

Sirius looked surprised. "Harry, this isn´t like you."

Draco crossed the room to them before he was quite aware of what he was doing. "Heś not exactly rational," he said, meeting Siriuséyes, which were dark with doubt.

"I´m fine," said Harry, flushed with anger.

"You know you´re not."

Sirius reached out and put his hand back on Harryś shoulder, and this time Harry didn´t pull away. "Harry, I´m so sorry about Jamesćloak. There are other things I could give you that belonged to your father, though." Now Harry did turn and look at Sirius as his godfather reached into a pocket of his trousers and drew out something about the length of his hand, which looked like an intricately decorated little silver thimble, complete with a strap.

Harry looked at it. "Is that a thimble?"

Sirius smiled, the lines deepening at the corners of his eyes, then handed the object to his godson. The moment it touched Harryś hand it seemed to leap into life, and suddenly began to expand in size. Harry jumped as it grew and grew and became the scabbard for a longsword, carved all up and down with an intricate and beautifully colored design of leaves, birds and animals.

Draco didn´t really look at it; he was looking at Harryś face, which had gone first very red, then white, and now the color was coming back again, and he simply looked amazed. Something else had changed in his expression, too, some of the fierceness seemed to have died out of his eyes.

Hermione was smiling nervously. "Itś your Key, Harry," she said.

Harry didn´t say anything. He looked at it mutely, then at Sirius.

"Itś a scabbard for a sword?" he said.

Sirius nodded. "For the Gryffindor sword."

"But the sword is broken," said Harry. He walked a little ways away, bent down, picked up the broken sword, and came back to the group. He showed it mutely to Sirius, who stared at the blade, broken almost in half just above the crossguard. "Not much use," said Harry flatly, "a scabbard without a sword."

"The swordś just a sword," said Hermione, "not a Living Blade. We can get you another sword."

Sirius was still staring at the shattered blade. "Harry, what happened? How did you break it?"

Harry hesitated. He looked over at Draco, who looked back at him steadily. "Tell them what happened."

"Which part of what happened?" asked Harry, shoving the broken sword into the scabbard and buckling it around his waist.

"Everything," said Draco. "Go on, tell them. Don´t leave out anything."

Harry looked a little dumbfounded, but nodded, once, slowly. Then Draco turned around and walked away, not really looking where he was going, found the opposite wall and leaned back against it. He slid down it slowly, by degrees, until he was sitting on the floor with his hands locked over his knees, having put the sword down beside him. He couldn´t hear what Harry was saying to the others but could watch and imagine. He saw them all staring at Harry as he spoke, riveted and shocked. At a certain point, Sirius paled, Ron swore, and Hermione gave a little scream and clapped her hands over her mouth. Draco heard Ron say loudly, "But thatś impossible!" and saw Harry shrug, then Hermione went to put her arms around Harry and Draco lowered his head down on his knees and swam for a while in the peaceful blackness behind his eyelids.

He vaguely wished Ginny were around. There was something exhausting about Harry, Ron and Hermione when they were all together. The automatic wordless communication between them was almost as swift as the telepathy he shared with Harry, and he was so used to seeing it arrayed and deployed against him that he felt automatically defensive and weary when he faced it. Sirius being there didn´t help either. Normally it would have, but not after what Draco had done.

"Draco."

Sirius´ voice. Draco raised his head. Sirius was kneeling in front of him, his dark eyes very somber. Behind him, Draco could see Harry, Hermione and Ron, still clustered in a small group, as they so often were at school, heads bent together: red, brown, and black. He said, "What?"

"Are you all right?"

He stared. "Shouldn´t you be asking if Harryś all right?"

"Harryś obviously fine. You, however, have looked better."

In a small voice, "I figured you´d be hacked off at me."

"Hacked off?" Sirius sat back on his heels. His eyes were on a level with Dracoś. "It strikes me that you´ve had to make a lot of difficult choices these past few days. Choices nobody should have to make, especially not a boy whoś barely grown. I have to ask myself if I would have done what you´ve done, if I had been faced with these decisions when I was your age."

"And?"

"And I think I would have. I hope I would have. You´ve done better than anyone could have expected or asked of you. I´m proud of you."

Draco stared at Sirius for a moment. No one had ever said that to him before. Not once, not ever. "I didn´t have a choice," he said.

"Thereś always a choice," said Sirius. "When we say thereś no choice, we´re just comforting ourselves about the decision we´ve already made." His voice was, for a moment, bitter. "Even under threat or torture there is always a choice. And you´ve made the right ones. Draco…" He rested his hand on the boyś shoulder.

"Being a good person…it doesn´t mean adhering to some random set of rules you´ve imagined, or imposed on yourself. It means doing each right thing because it is the right thing; because it protects the people you care about. If thereś one thing I´ve learned in my life itś not to be afraid of the responsibility that comes with caring for other people. What we do for love: those things endure."

And his eyes darkened. "Even if the people you did them for don´t."

Sympathy tore out of Draco what anger or condemnation would not have. His throat tightened, and he burst out, "I told Harry about his parents — that was wrong of me- "

Sirius silenced him with a gesture. "I know you´d rather cut your own hand off than hurt him. You did the wrong thing but for the right reasons. Maybe you saved his life. I did the wrong thing; I should have told him myself, before."

"So you forgive me?" said Draco, raising his chin up and looking squarely at Sirius. For reasons he couldn´t place, Sirius´ forgiveness for hurting Harry meant nearly as much to him as Harryś had.

"I would forgive you if my forgiveness were required in this instance," said Sirius. "But it is not."

Draco looked at him. The backs of his eyes felt hot, and his throat felt too tight. He remembered Sirius hugging him earlier, in Slytherinś library, and how odd that had been; the only people in his life who had ever embraced him out of sympathy had been Sirius and Hermione, and neither time had he really known how to respond. In the silence, while he tried to figure out how to react, Draco heard Ron again, speaking clearly.

"Manticore blood? Thatś the weirdest thing I´ve ever heard."

"Itś not that weird." Hermioneś voice. "I remember that manticore blood and skin has have healing properties from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."