Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

She should have been pleased, she thought. But instead she was -

terrified. He walked across the room to her and leaned on the back of her chair, looking over her shoulder at their reflections in the mirror. She could see his face reflected, and thought he even looked a little older. Less like himself, and more like a photograph of himself — or a photograph of James.

He saw her looking at him in the mirror and smiled. "What?"

"You're taller," she said, without thinking. "How could you have gotten taller in only two weeks?"

"Concentrated effort."

"And you're so brown," she said. "And you have freckles on your nose."

"I know," he said, looking downcast. "Are they horrible?"

"No. I like them. But you look so tired."

"Three days of gut-wrenching misery and turmoil will do that," he said, frowned and squinted upward. "I think I got a white hair, actually. I was going to name it after you."

"Oh, very funny," said Hermione. She swiveled around in the chair and looked up at him. "I'm sorry you were worried," she said, more seriously. "I've spent the past six years worrying over you, so I know what it feels like."

Harry didn't look as if he had heard her. "I got away from Charlie for a few minutes because I wanted to tell you something," he said.

"Actually, I wanted to show you something."

She smiled at him. She hoped it didn't look like a nervous smile.

"And I bet you say that to all the girls."

Harry didn't smile. Apparently he wasn't in the mood to be teased.

He had the expression he always got when he was trying to work up the nerve to say something serious. No, she prayed. Not now. Not anything serious. Not now.

He reached a hand into his jacket pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper, which he handed to her. It was creased and shiny from being read and re-read. Hermione took it curiously, unfolded it, and blinked.

It was the letter that she had written while under the Imperius Curse, telling Harry that she was leaving him for Viktor. She had no memory of writing the words, and saw her own shaky handwriting with wonder: I saw Viktor this afternoon, and realized that I have really loved him all these years… you will always be a dear friend of mine…. Please don't try to contact me.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, looking up at him in horror. "You can't tell me that you believed one word of this for even one minute!"

"Well, that's just it," said Harry. "I did."

Hermione was dismayed. "You did?"

"At first I was just shocked. I didn't want to believe it, but every time I told myself it was impossible I started to worry that I was rationalizing. Being arrogant. Making assumptions about you, like I used to…assuming that you felt a certain way about me, when really- "

"But the Mirror, Harry-"

"Yes, but we weren't speaking then, were we?" he said simply. "And I thought, maybe you seeing me in the Mirror just meant you wanted out friendship back the way it was, and not…anything else."

"And then what?" said Hermione, exasperated. "I was just too embarrassed to correct your mistaken impression that I loved you, so I went along with it?"

"Well," said Harry, looking as if he felt rather small, "Yes."

"Harry, if you thought that, you're a complete dunce," said Hermione, firmly. "Let me guess. Ron convinced you that you were being an idiot."

"Actually, it was Malfoy."

"Draco?" said Hermione faintly. Oh, why did Harry have to bring him up? Of all the things she didn't want to talk about.

"Yes. He was…for some reason…utterly positive you weren't acting of your own free will. He called me a lot of names…kicked me around a bit…well, you know how he is. But I think it was just what I needed. I was…"

"Being utterly ridiculous?" said Hermione, with a wan smile.

"Afraid," said Harry. He took a deep breath, and said hastily, "I've learned enough about myself, Hermione, to know what really scares me. And that's just one thing. The idea of losing my family — again.

And that's Ron, and Sirius…and you. You're my family, Hermione.

You're everything to me."

Hermione burst into tears.

Harry looked utterly appalled. "Hermione — "

Hermione shook her head violently. She was temporarily incapable of speech, which on reflection was probably not a bad thing.

Awkwardly, Harry reached out and stroked her hair and the side of her face, and she fleetingly wondered why it was that Harry was awkward with her, even now, when Draco never was, never made a single move that didn't seem purposeful and meant, or a single hesitant gesture, and why did she have to think about him right now when she should be thinking of nothing but Harry?

"I'm sorry," he said gently. "After all you've been through, and I'm blithering on about letters and Malfoy and nothing very important…"

"I don't want to talk about Malfoy," interrupted Hermione tearfully, stood up, and kissed him. She felt his hands slide up her arms, the familiar pressure as he cupped the back of her head, reaching up to pull the chopsticks out of her hair and tossing them aside, letting her hair fall down around them. He was still Harry, so familiarly Harry in that way that wrenched at her heart, the feel of him the same, the fine slender bones of his hands and wrists and face, the untidy hair that brushed her hands. She slid her fingers lightly down his back, knowing she ought to touch him, but feeling as if she hadn't any right…

This is worse than the Cruciatus Curse, Hermione thought miserably.

This is awful.

"Hermione," said Harry softly, pulling away from her.

"What?"

"You're crying."

"I'm sorry…"

"No. Don't be." He pulled her closer to him, threading his hands into her hair, and kissed her eyes and the tip of her nose. "It's all right," he said. "I'm never going to not trust you again."

But it's not all right, Harry, she thought miserably. It is very much not all right.

They both heard the door being opened at the same time, and turned their heads to see Charlie enter, carrying what looked like a pile of clothes. He glanced at them, and said resignedly, "At it again, are we?"

"We're not 'at' anything," said Harry, with dignity, although he stepped away from Hermione. "We were just talking."

"That's right," said Charlie, with a grin. "You just got to talking, suddenly tripped, and fell on each other's lips. Happens all the time." He tossed the pile of clothes onto the bed, and said, "Hermione, I've brought you and Ginny some old t-shirts to sleep in.

I'm sorry if they're a bit ratty, but it's all I've got. Harry, get along with you. Back to the boys' tent."

"Goodnight, Harry," said Hermione, a little too quickly. She felt, rather than saw, Harry look at her with a quizzical expression on his face, but she didn't return his glance.

He bent and kissed her lightly on the temple. "Sleep well," he said.

Remus Lupin had never before been to Malfoy Manor, but he if he had, he would have been astonished upon arriving there, battered leather case in tow, to see how much it had changed.

The giant spiders were gone, as was the vicious attack topiary, the spiky portcullis, the magical land-mines and the Jigsaw Hexes. The Bottomless Pit was still there, although Aurors from the Ministry of Magic had surrounded it with blinking signs that read "Danger: Approach And Risk Hurtling Through Empty Space For All Eternity."

The Venus Flytraps and black hedgerows starred with malignant-looking flowers had been replaced with neat herbaceous borders that would one day sprout daisies, if Narcissa had her way.

When Lupin Apparated into the drawing-room, he found Sirius waiting for him there, wearing a white shirt, black trousers, and an ear-to-ear grin. "Harry's all right!" he announced, by way of a greeting. "So is Draco."