Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

He raised his wand, and heard his own voice as if it came from far away. "Expecto Patronum!"

His wand jerked in his hand and the familiar silver-white light burst from its tip. Shaking with relief, Harry fell to his knees as the silver light formed itself into the shape of a stag with antlers like forked lightning, which lunged silently towards the Dementors. In the dim light the silver stag shone like a new moon, and the Dementors withered back before its light, almost seeming to evaporate as they retreated into the shadow of the trees. The stag darted after them, turning at the edge of the clearing to look back around at Harry -

Harry raised his hand in a weak salute — and it vanished, plunging into the forest in pursuit.

Still on his knees, Harry turned and looked at Draco, who had stopped twitching but still had his hands clamped over his face.

"They're gone," he said.

"Potter," said Draco, not taking his hands away from his face, "The sword-"

"What?"

"Take it off me — please take it off me — "

Harry reached out and grabbed the hilt of the sword, which Draco had stuck through his belt (and had miraculously failed to impale himself on while falling), and nearly yelled. It was freezing cold to the touch, like ice. He gritted his teeth and closed his hand around the hilt, pulling it away from Draco. He felt the cold that radiated from it with the force of frozen nails being driven into his veins, and yet as he lifted it in his hand he felt suddenly — powerful.

A small, cold voice spoke in the back of his head.

Harry Potter?

The sword was no longer cold. It had assumed the temperature of his skin. It seemed made of his own flesh, only harder, and more smooth.

Harry, said the voice in his head, again.

Harry dropped the sword and jumped back as if it had burned him.

"Harry!" It was Ron's voice. Harry looked up and saw Ron and Ginny coming towards them, looking pale and worried. They were both covered in leaves and twigs were caught in Ginny's hair — they must have gotten stuck in the woods. Both of them were both carrying their broomsticks. "Harry — was that — ?"

"Patronus spell," said Harry briefly. "Dementors."

Ron looked gray. "We have to get out of here," he said.

"Malfoy's leg's broken," said Harry in the same short tone.

Ron dropped his broomstick and looked from Harry to Draco. Then he turned to Ginny. "Can you fix it?"

She shook her head. "I did cuts and bruises last year-but bones, no. I don't want to risk it. If I made a mistake, I might end up giving him two bones in his leg instead of one, or making them bendy, or — "

"Removing them entirely," said Harry, thinking of Lockhart.

"Right," said Ginny.

"So that would be a no," said Ron. "Okay. Harry. Come here. I need to talk to you for a minute."

Harry followed Ron a short distance away and looked at him inquiringly. Ron had his resolute face on, which was sometimes a good thing and sometimes not. Harry admired Ron's determination, but it could be hard to get through to him when he had his mind set on something.

"You're all right?" said Ron, looking at Harry searchingly. "The Dementors and everything…you're okay?"

"I'm fine," said Harry. To his surprise, this was the truth. "They affected Malfoy a lot more than they affected me."

"Which is weird," said Ron.

"I agree," said Harry. "But I'm not sure it means anything. Scratch that. It means something, but I don't know what."

"Well, you're going to get some time to find out," said Ron.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I think Ginny and I should go find some help, and you should stay here with Malfoy. We're not leaving him alone in the woods with a broken leg, much as I dislike him, and I'm certainly not leaving him alone here with Ginny while you and I go off-"

"Even with a broken leg?" grinned Harry. "He couldn't catch her if she ran."

"What if she doesn't run?"

"You're paranoid," said Harry.

In response, Ron's eyes flicked past him. Harry turned, and saw Draco propped up against a tree trunk, Ginny bending over him, looking solicitous.

"Means nothing," said Harry.

"I'm not letting her hang around here playing nursemaid to Malfoy.

Because… well, because-"

"Because playing nursemaid leads to playing naughty stewardess?"

"Harry," said Ron, indignantly.

Harry threw up his hands. "You are not sane on this topic."

Ron shrugged. "I was brought up to hate the name of Malfoy and to look after my little sister. So tell me, what do you think I should do?"

"Does that hurt now?" asked Ginny anxiously, pushing a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes. She had been helping Draco sit up against a tree trunk. His broken leg lay stretched out stiffly in front of him and he held Slytherin's sword across his lap.

"Yes, it hurts," said Draco irritably. "My leg's broken. Of course it hurts. Doesn't anyone know any pain-killing charms? What's wrong with you people?"

"Do you know any?" said Ginny sharply.

"No," said Draco without a trace of embarrassment.

"God, you're annoying, even with a broken leg," she said, but she said it without rancor. "Look, just sit back, will you?" She put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back gently so that he was leaning against the tree trunk.

"Thanks," he said, and shut his eyes.

"No problem," said Ginny softly, looking at him. In a way, she was glad he had his eyes shut, because it meant she could look at him without having to look away. He was pale, probably from pain, making the livid cuts where the branches had torn at his face stand out more clearly against his skin. So did his eyelashes, which were long and dark enough to make Lavender Brown desperately jealous.

"Don't," he said, without opening his eyes.

"Don't what?" said Ginny, shrinking back guiltily.

"Look at me. It makes me nervous." He opened his eyes and studied her expression for a moment, then shut them again as if the sight of her pained him, and said flatly, "Forget it. It won't work."

Ginny was floored. "What won't work?"

He sighed. "I know what you're thinking," he said. "Same thing you were thinking last night. 'Hey, look at Malfoy, all cute and helpless and kinda nice. He's not mean; he's just wounded and bitter. All he needs is love and he'll be fixed right up.' Well, guess what?" he said, unmoved by her horrified expression. "I'm not nice. And I don't need love and I don't want to be fixed. Especially not by you."

"I never," spluttered Ginny, lost for words. "I certainly don't-"

"Good," said Draco. "Put it out of your mind. Because if you want a nice boyfriend, you'd be better off with the one you've got now.

Imaginary Harry Potter."

Ginny was so furious, she wanted to hit him. But he has a broken leg, she told herself. You can't hit someone with a broken leg. She wanted to say something nasty and cutting, something really vicious. She wanted to tell him no wonder your father didn't want you, or Imaginary Harry Potter's better than actual Draco Malfoy any day, just ask Hermione.

But she couldn't.

Instead, she just said, as evenly as she could, "Malfoy, have you ever even heard of tact?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was alarmed to see how dilated his pupils were, whether from shock or pain she wasn't sure.

His irises looked black, ringed with only the thinnest band of silver.

"Tact is just lying for grown-ups," he said in a level tone.

"Is that one of your father's famous sayings?"

"No," he said. "I made that one up myself."

"Bagpipes," said Sirius firmly.

Narcissa shook her head, not looking up from the bridal magazine she was reading. "No bagpipes," she said, reached for a pillow, and put it behind her head. She was sitting up on the bed in their hotel room, surrounded by magazine clippings, books, and pieces of paper on which she had scrawled possible wedding invitation designs.