Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

It was nearly sunset, and the sky above the camp was beginning to darken with faint lines like the markings inside a seashell. Draco was walking so quickly away from the tent that it took Ron — whose long legs usually allowed him to move faster than anyone — several moments to catch up.

"Malfoy," he said. "Hold up."

Draco kept walking.

"Malfoy," said Ron, more sharply, reached out, and put his hand on Draco's arm.

Draco whirled on him. His face was expressionless, although if Ron had known him as well as Hermione or Harry did, he would have seen by the look in his eyes that he was spoiling for a fight.

"Why are you pretending that I'm not here?" snapped Ron.

"Wishful thinking?" Draco suggested.

Ron ignored this. "I want a word with you, Malfoy."

"That depends," said Draco. "Are you going to say something useful, or are you just going to glare at me and be cryptic?"

"Back in the forest," said Ron. "I was watching you."

"I never knew it gave you pleasure to gaze upon me, Weasley, but far be it from me to interfere with your harmless pleasures. Come around my tent tonight, I'll let you watch me take a shower."

"I was watching you when you were in the garden," said Ron. "I saw you talking to the veela. Then you walked off. You walked off," he repeated, his voice rising. "You should have come back for Harry and me. At least for Harry."

Draco smiled. In the mood he was in, the idea of a fight with Ron gave him a thrill of dark elation. "It's not your business what I do, Weasley," he said. "Is it?"

"It is my business," said Ron. "These are my friends we're talking about. And maybe you can fool Hermione — she's got a massive blind spot where you're concerned- and you can fool Harry, because he trusts everyone, and you can even fool Charlie with your stupid dragons, but you can't fool me, Malfoy. I know what you are."

"And I know what you are," said Draco. "An inbred cretin with an inferiority complex the size of Brighton. Tell me, when are you going to admit that this is all because you're jealous?"

Ron went white. "I'm jealous? You're the one who's in love with Hermione. I bet it just killed you that she chose Harry, didn't it? And you just couldn't wait to take the first opportunity that came along to cut him out-"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Come on, Weasley, you're not any better at psychological warfare than you are at cunning plans. I suggest you get out of here before you get hurt."

"What are you going to do?" sneered Ron. "Hit me with your rolled-up copy of Witch Weekly?"

"Oh, I'm not going to hit you," said Draco, his voice alive with menace. He was looking at Ron with an expression that Ron hadn't seen on Draco's face for a while now. "I wouldn't bother hitting you.

None of us can be bothered with you, haven't you noticed that? You think it's killing me to see Harry and Hermione together? I think it's killing you. You've never mattered, your whole life you've never mattered; the only thing that has ever mattered about you is Harry.

If anyone at school knows your name, it's because of Harry. If you've ever won a point for your house, it's because of Harry. If you've ever passed a class, it's because Hermione helped you. The only thing that's ever been special about you, Weasley, is your friends. And now they've got each other and they don't need you anymore, or want you around-"

"Shut up!" yelled Ron, clenching his hands into fists at his sides.

"Just shut up, Malfoy, or I swear, I'll rip out your throat!"

Before Draco could respond, there was a rustle behind them and Ginny burst out into the clearing. "What's going on?" she demanded.

"What on earth are you two yelling at each other about?"

Ron ignored her. "One of these days," he said to Draco, "They're all going to realize what you're really like — Harry, Hermione, even Sirius. And I'm going to be there to watch."

"Ron," said Ginny, sounding shocked. "Don't-"

But Draco cut her off. "It's all right, Ginny," he said, still looking at Ron.

He turned on his heel and walked away, vanishing quickly from sight as the black of his clothing blended into the darkness of the gathering shadows.

Ron was looking at Ginny. "Don't you go after him, Ginny-"

But she was already gone.

Ron sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, watching her go.

"Narcissa!"

Sirius came skidding around the hallway corner to find Narcissa, her hair in businesslike plaits, wearing a patched robe and a determined expression, pointing her wand at one of the huge gold-framed family portraits that lined the corridor. When she caught sight of him, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Sirius! What?"

Sirius skated to a halt in front of her and leaned his hands on his knees, catching his breath. "This house is far too big," he complained. "I think it crosses an international time zone. When it's three o'clock in the drawing room, it's six o'clock in the library."

"Harry and Draco are all right," said Narcissa, immediately.

He straightened up. "How'd you guess?"

"Because you wouldn't cracking jokes, otherwise. Did you hear from them?"

"From Charlie Weasley," he said, handing her a letter. "They're with him at that dragon camp he runs. Not all that far from here, actually. He says they're all perfectly fine. And goes into quite a bit more detail, actually…read it."

He watched some of the lines of strain vanish from her face as she read the letter. When she was done, she handed the letter back to him and smiled. "Well, goodbye," she said.

Sirius blinked at her. "Goodbye?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're going to go rushing off to Harry, aren't you? To make sure he's all right. It's fine. You should go."

"No," said Sirius. "I'm not."

Narcissa blinked at him. "You're not?"

"No," said Sirius. "Okay," he admitted, "I really, really want to. But I won't."

"Why not? There's no harm in being protective."

Sirius sighed and leaned back against the wall. "I know," he said.

"And most of me wants to rush down there, drag him back here, and lock him in his room until he's thirty. But the only effect that would have is that he'd get loads of practice using his Magid skills to break out. I have to show him I trust him, Narcissa."

"Hasn't he just betrayed that trust?" she asked, looking curious.

"Not really." Sirius looked thoughtful. "He's being true to his nature.

The impression I get is that he thought his friend was in trouble -

not just his friend, but his girlfriend. He's never learned to go to adults for help, and I think that by this stage, he's too old to learn it.

He's not just any boy, he's Harry Potter. He might be a child, but he's got adult-sized problems, he always has, and so far he's dealt with them on his own. And dealt with them well. All I can really give him is support, and maybe a modicum of discipline. He's never going to have an ordinary life; there's no point in my treating him like he's an ordinary teenager."

"It's not easy," said Narcissa, sympathetically, "being godfather to a hero, is it?"

"No," said Sirius. "I'd much rather he was some swotty little weed who never left the library."

Narcissa laughed, "Sirius! You'd hate that!"

Sirius grinned. "Yeah, I would." He looked at her curiously. "I meant to ask before," he said. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"I was marking the objects I want to sell," she said calmly, and touched the tip of her wand to a painting of a dour-looking, pale man in a long black cloak. Immediately, the frame began to glow a faint blue color. "Take that, Uncle Vlad."

"You're selling off the paintings? Why?" asked Sirius. It was on occasions like this that it was recalled forcefully to him that he really didn't know Narcissa all that well. Although she did look fetching with her hair in plaits.