Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

She heard Ron say suddenly, and very sharply, "Don´t touch that!

Itś a trap!" but it was too late; with a great rumbling and grinding noise, the floor seemed to open up under Hermioneś feet. She heard Harry next to her shout in surprise; then the earth lurched again and she was tumbling down into darkness with Harry beside her.

* * * * *

Sirius strode down the corridors exuding far more confidence than he felt. It seemed to be working, as well. Gray-robed minions hurried past him in great numbers, but not a one of them stopped to glance at him. It seemed to him, in fact, that they were all hurrying in the same direction with some sort of purpose, although he couldn´t guess what that might be. Nothing good, he expected.

He had confidently claimed to Harry and the rest that he knew exactly where he was going. In truth, this was not the case. He thought he recognized the corridor he was in, with its many shadowed doorways, as the one he had been in with Lupin and the banshee woman, Raven. Yes, surely it was the right hallway. The flagstone floor seemed familiar, as did the curling-serpent torch brackets and the arched, almost oval wooden doors set in the wall at intervals. And there — surely that was the door Raven had shown Lupin through, carved of dark oak, brass-banded. He paused in front of it and then, before he had a chance to move, the handle of the door suddenly slid up, and it creaked open from the inside.

Sirius backed up along the hallway, and stared.

Through the door came a trio of young women, clad in filmy white, two carrying lanterns shining with a soft pale light, the tallest playing a little harp that echoed a strange, sweet music. As they drew nearer, Sirius recognized them as veela. Up close, their resemblance to Narcissa unnerved him, as if he faced herwas facing her, refracted through some sort of distorted mirror. Like her, they were all tall and pale and slender, with waterfalling silver-white hair and upturned blue-gray eyes. They paused, their silver robes swirling around their slender bodies, and giggled to each other.

"Quel homme attirant. Que devrions-nous faire avec lui?" smirked the first.

"Je pense que nous devrions le manger," purred the second.

They advanced towards him en masse, smiling, and Sirius began backing away. He did not like the looks on their faces, nor the cruel, cold smiles on their red mouths, or the way the one on the left was hungrily licking her lips as she looked at him. He had absolutely no idea what they had just been saying, but was quite certain it wasn´t good.

Suddenly another female voice cut into the scene, this one oddly familiar. "Shoo! Shoo! Get away from 'im! Leave 'im alone, you bunch of tarts!"

Sirius turned, and stared. Standing in front of him, barefoot and wearing a white nightgown, was Fleur Delacour. Her hands were jammed firmly on her hips and she looked furious. She had stretched one hand outstretched out imperiously, and to Siriusśurprise, the veela cowered back away from her.

Then he remembered. It was no wonder they were afraid of her. She was Slytherinś Source.

The tallest veela bared her teeth, and said in a wheedling voice.

"Fleur….pourquoi est-ce que tu ne nous laisses pas seuls et nous laisses avoir notre amusement?"

"Parce que je le dise!" barked Fleur, imperiously tapping her foot.

"Because I say so! Now go!"

With a few parting hisses and some baring of teeth, the veela turned and vanished off down the corridor as if pursued by Furies. Fleur watched them go, looking a bit like a Fury herself. Her silver hair was crackling around her head like charmed tinsel, and Sirius was reminded that she was a Magid, and her anger was a powerful weapon indeed.

He took a step back, and her gaze flicked over to him. "Are you all right?" she asked, her tone melting into sympathy. "My cousins, they get…a little overexcited."

Sirius nodded, mind whirling.

Her eyebrows drew together. "I 'ave seen you before," she said. "I know you. You are a friend of Professor Lupin. I saw you in his office, you were in the fireplace."

Sirius nodded. "I´m Sirius Black."

"The professor…is he all right?" said Fleur, widening her dark blue eyes. "Is 'e 'ere?"

"Heś 'ere…I mean here…heś with the other werewolves," said Sirius, not one to pass up an opportunity for extra information. He knew from Harry what Fleur had done, but also knew from Draco that there was more to the story. He tended to believe that she sincerely wished to make up for her mistake. Also, she seemed so weak she hardly posed a threat. "Can you lead me there?"

She nodded slowly. "I can. It is down this 'all, as a matter of fact.

You were not far off." She looked up and down the corridor with weary trepidation. "If 'e catches me…"

"I´ll say that I threatened you," said Sirius, with more confidence than he felt. "They think I´m a big bad vampire, 'round here."

Fleur nodded slowly, as if she was too tired to ask more, and led the way down the hall. It turned out to be a short distance to the iron-bound door he remembered; Fleur rapped upon it once, then pushed it open, letting Sirius walk in ahead of her. She came after him, shutting the door firmly behind her.

* * * * *

Draco, with Ron right beside him, raced to the edge of the black hole in the flagstone floor into which Harry and Hermione had vanished, and peered down into it.

He saw a void of blackness narrowing down and down into nothing, with a faint glimmer of light at the end that might have been daylight, or might have been a reflection off water. "Harry!" he yelled, his voice bouncing off the sides of the hole. "Hermione!"

Ron added his voice to Dracoś. "Hermione! Harry!"

A very faint, echoing shout answered them. Draco listened as hard as he could, but wasn´t sure whether it was in fact an answer, or merely an echo of their own voices. He glanced sideways at Ron, who was as white as his shirt. "How did you know?" he hissed. "That it was a trap?"

Ron shook his head. "I just did," he said, his voice flat and dead.

Draco felt a sudden, sharp tingle in the scar on his palm. He glanced down at his hand just as Harryś voice spoke inside his head: Hey, Malfoy. You up there?

Yeah. Dracoś shoulders sagged with relief. Hermione and you both all right?

We´re fine. Waist-deep in water, but fine. Ron…?

Didn´t even lose a freckle.

Tell him we´re okay.

Draco glanced over at Ron, and nodded curtly, once. "They´re all right."

Ron looked at him narrowly. "How do you know?" Then he shook his head. "Never mind. I think I can guess."

How did he know that it was a trap? came Harryś voice again, bemused and astonished. Ron, I mean.

Draco shrugged. I don´t know. He says he just did.

There was a short silence, then Harry spoke again. Hermione says heś a Diviner.

"You´re a Diviner?" said Draco to Ron, incredulously. He knew from his father how very rare Diviners always had been, and how sought after their skills were. That Professor Trelawney, who had only a hint of Divining power, had managed to secure and maintain a professorial position at Hogwarts on the strength of her minor talent, bespoke how rare the gift was.

The redheaded boy looked defensive. "I guess so."

"Looks like you´ve got a trumpet to blow after all, Weasley," said Draco with a grudging amount of respect. "And you saved me from falling down that hole. Grabbed my arm. Rather a mysterious action on your part."

"I was reaching for Harry," said Ron, looking deeply disgusted. "I was reaching for Harry, and I got you. Now how are we going to get them out of there?"

"Ropes," said Draco, "we need ropes, or cords, or something — "

"Hermione said no magic, though," said Ron worriedly. "Not inside the castle."

"I know. Bugger." Draco cast about for an idea, and his eye fell on the heavy tapestries adorning the walls. "What about those," he said slowly, jabbing a finger towards them. "We could cut them up into thin strips and tie them together. Make a rope that way."