Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

Draco could see the dim outline of broken pillars and a cracked marble floor. He turned and looked at Hermione, who was still looking blank, stunned, and miserable. "Can you make it down the stairs?"

"I am perfectly fine," she said, in a clipped voice.

"Okay…" He looked at her, bewildered, shook his head, and started down the steps. She followed him, walking slowly. He had to resist the urge to hurry her forward in exasperation. I don't know what she's been through, he reminded himself. Anything could have happened to her — anything at all. He cast a sideways look at her.

She looked all right — tired, of course, and with that mother-of-pearl shine under her eyes that meant that she'd been crying. There was a cut on her lip that looked as if she'd bitten it, but other than that she seemed unhurt. "Hermione," he said suddenly, turning towards her. "Look, you don't have to talk to me, but just tell me if you're all right. Just nod, will you?"

"Such concern," said a voice behind them. "How very endearing."

They both turned; Draco quickly, Hermione more slowly, as if she dreaded what she might see.

Salazar Slytherin stood at the foot of the stairs.

Lupin looked up at the knock on his door. "Just a second," he called out, glancing around hastily. He hadn't really had time to straighten up his office since he'd discovered it wrecked the day before. He'd swept most of the shards of adamantine into a corner, and spent some time separating his papers into "ruined" and "not ruined" piles. A few spells had fixed the windows, and returned the nymph-who-looked-like-Lily's snow globe to something resembling its former condition (although the snow in the globe now had a tendency to look rather blue.)

Lupin reached out and yanked a copy of the Daily Prophet towards him, covering the pages of the book he was reading, or trying to read. It was the book the centaur had given him in the Forbidden Forest, and so far he'd had no luck trying to decipher what language it was written in. He'd tried Trollish, Mermish, Giantish, and even Elvish, to no effect.

"Come in," he called.

It was Fleur. She came in smiling, the light catching her silver hair, turning it to tinsel. "'Ello, Professor! You wanted to see me?"

"Fleur," he replied, with weary caution. "Yes. I wanted to ask you something."

She smiled at him. "Yes?"

"Do you know where Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are?"

Her smile vanished, to be replaced by a pout. "No, I do not," she said. "Why would I?"

"Right." Lupin rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was fairly sure he could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. "Have I mentioned that I know perfectly well that they sent you over here the other day to trick me into leaving my office? It seemed possible to me that they might have let you in on the rest of their plans."

"Maybe," said Fleur, batting her eyelashes, "It was just because I like you."

Lupin sighed. "Fleur," he said. "I told you. I'm a werewolf. That veela business doesn't work on me. Besides, I'm twice your age and I'm your teacher."

"I could take a different class," suggested Fleur.

"I'd still be a teacher here at this school," said Lupin. Now he was positive that he was getting a headache.

"Well, actually, as to that," said a voice from the corner.

Both Lupin and Fleur turned around. It was Sirius, of course, his head and shoulders visible in the fireplace. "I need to talk to you, Remus," he said.

Relieved, Lupin turned to Fleur. "If you'll excuse us?"

Fleur gave Lupin an appraising look. Then she gave Sirius an appraising look. Whatever it was she was thinking caused her to smile broadly. She turned around, twitched her shoulders, and walked out, shutting the door behind her.

"Pretty girl," said Sirius.

"Quite," said Lupin, in a tone that suggested that that avenue of conversation was closed. "Are you back home, Sirius?"

"I'm at the Manor, with Narcissa," said Sirius, who looked tired. "We got back last night. I've sent the Aurors packing for the moment, and I've been up all night. I owled Dumbledore — "

"So did I."

"And I've owled Harry's friends — I sent a message to Ron Weasley last night, since he's Harry's best friend I thought he might have an idea where he's gone."

"What does Dumbledore say?"

"He seems to think Harry's all right," said Sirius. "He's not worried."

"Good," said Lupin, trying to sound more optimistic than he felt.

"Did you go to the Forbidden Forest?"

"I did," said Lupin. He reached for the book and carried it over to the fire, where he showed it to Sirius and explained what the centaur had told him. Sirius looked at the book and shook his head.

"Never seen anything like it," he said. "Not even during my Auror training. Are you sure that's a language? It just looks like squiggles."

"Oh, it's a language," said Lupin. "It's got recognizable patterns. But I'm damned if I've ever seen anything like it before. And considering that I only have half my books here, and half of those have been ruined-"

"Speaking of books," interrupted Sirius. "Look, I've just been talking to the Ministry about you — "

"About me?" said Lupin, thunderstruck.

"I'd really like you to come and stay with us here at the Manor."

Lupin stared. "What does that have to do with the Ministry?"

Sirius sighed. "The Aurors have been over this place with a fine-tooth comb — they've taken Lucius' papers, and all the Dark Arts items he collected. But they haven't touched the library. There are thousands of books in the library here, many of them the only editions still in existence. It would take them months to sort and catalogue, and several of the Aurors have admitted that they've never seen half the languages represented here. So I thought of you.

The Ministry is willing to pay you to assist in cataloguing Lucius' library-"

"I'm not an Auror," Lupin protested.

"We don't need an Auror," said Sirius. "We need someone who specializes in Dark Arts studies. An academic. Someone like you."

"I've got a job here, Sirius. I can't just leave."

"This job pays better," said Sirius. "And Dumbledore's happy to let you go. He said he's already found a replacement willing to take over your class."

"Who?" said Lupin, looking curious.

"Snape," said Sirius, grinning more than ever.

This time Lupin grinned back. "I can just see Fleur trying to lure him out of the office…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"So you'll come?"

"Of course I'll come."

"This is an interesting turn of affairs," said Slytherin, in his harsh, inhuman voice. He stood very calmly at the foot of the stairs, looking tall and pale and deathly. He wore different robes than he had earlier; these were a much richer green, and fell in thick folds to the hem, which was edged in gold. I wonder if he dressed up to impress me? thought Hermione, feeling ill.

She glanced quickly at Draco, expecting to see him looking horrified, shocked, or simply amazed. But he looked none of those things.

There was a look on his face that was strangely like — recognition. As if he'd bumped into someone he knew, someone he hadn't expected to ever see again.

"You," he said, staring at Slytherin. "I know you. But — you're dead.

And you're short."

Slytherin gave him a cold smile.

"Oh yeah," said Draco, in the tone of one remembering something.

"Platform boots, right?"

"Draco," hissed Hermione warningly. "Don't."

"So," said Draco, who seemed to be warming to his theme. "How'd that selling your soul to the Devil thing work out for you in the end?

Because I can tell you, from where I've been standing, it didn't look like a terribly bright move."

"You," said Slytherin, not moving, "you know who I am, then?"