Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

There was a short, acute silence. Ron and Ginny glanced away, as did Lupin. And Harry looked merely astonished. Finally he said, in a startled sort of voice, "I don't hate him." He looked around, a bit defensively, and shrugged. "I don't."

Sirius looked over at Lupin, unable to conceal a slightly triumphant smile. Ron looked dubious. And Ginny suddenly bolted to her feet, announced in a strangled sort of voice that she wanted to check on Hermione, and left the room.

As soon as the library door shut behind them, Hermione wrenched her arm out of Draco's grasp and glared at him.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Taking you to your room," he said, and started to walk down the corridor.

She followed him, scowling. "You know we shouldn't be alone together."

"Correction. You shouldn't be alone with me. I can control myself perfectly well around you."

"Oh, so that was just me last night," she began waspishly, realized how she sounded, and stopped. "Never mind. It's not your fault, I know you didn't choose this."

"Just what Freud would have said, only possibly without that know-it-all attitude."

Hermione was relieved to note that the love potion did not prevent her from becoming very, very angry. "What is your problem?" she snapped. "As if we don't have enough to deal with."

"We?" he echoed, and stopped dead, glaring at her. "This is not my problem. This is your problem. These are your friends. These are your lies. You," he said, and now his voice snapped with anger, "have to realize, Hermione, that there are repercussions. There are consequences to your actions. There are-"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Forget it," he said. "I'm leaving, anyway."

"Leaving?"

"Leaving," he said, and started to back down the corridor, away from her. "I've got an errand to do."

She stared at him. "You can't just go," she protested. "Sirius-"

Draco shrugged. "So cover for me."

"What?"

"Cover for me. I've been covering for you since yesterday. Now you cover for me. I'll be back later, maybe tonight. Just.. stall them if they ask for me."

"Where am I supposed to tell them you've gone?"

"You're clever," said Draco. "You'll think of something."

He turned and began to walk away from her, down the corridor.

"I won't make up lies for you!" she called after him, her voice cracking a little.

He glanced back at her over his shoulder, and shrugged. "Really?"

he said, with immense disdain. "And here I thought you loved me."

Knotting her hands into fists of rage, she watched him go without another word. Then she turned around, and realized, to her horror, that she was completely lost. She stared around her. She was in a hallway lined with portraits, much like the other dozens of hallways in the Manor. And she had been so preoccupied by her argument with Draco that she had no recollection whether she had come from the left, or the right. With a mental shrug of despair, she turned right and walked down a narrow corridor, trying to remember if any of the portraits looked familiar. It was hard to tell — portrait after portrait of pale, blond, arrogant-looking Malfoys stared back at her.

And they all, she thought hopelessly, looked rather the same.

She turned one corner, and then another, and came out into a hallway she was positive she had never seen before. And there, standing in the middle of the hallway, was Ginny.

Ginny glanced up and saw her, and her eyes darkened. She started to turn around to walk away, but Hermione, who was starting to feel as if everyone had begun to hate her, caught at her hand. "Ginny, don't."

"Leave it alone, Hermione. I don't want to talk to you."

"You don't understand. It really wasn't what it looked like."

Now Ginny looked anxious. "This is really isn't the time to-"

"Well, when is the time?" Hermione snapped, her voice rising. The pain in her head made her own voice sound shrill in her ears. "I have to explain to you, otherwise I'll be panicking all the time that you'll tell Harry. And you can't tell Harry, you have to promise me-"

"Hermione, no," Ginny interrupted, shaking her head at Hermione, but Hermione ignored her.

"Ginny, I promise you, I swear that this is important. I've never lied to him before, do you think I would lie to him about just anything?"

"Hermione! Shut up!" Ginny exploded, but it was too late. The door she had been standing in front of opened, and with a shock that felt like the bottom of her stomach had fallen out, Hermione saw Ron standing there, staring at both of them with astonishment. Behind him she could see the familiar room, the desk, the rows of books, the glass windows — somehow she had come in a full circle and wound up back at the library. And it was quite evident from the expression on Ron's face that Lucius' library did not have soundproofing. "What," said Ron, looking from Hermione to his sister, "are you two yelling about?"

"I," said Ginny tightly, "was not yelling."

Hermione cleared her throat. She was beginning to feel something she had never felt before in her life.

Stupid.

"It's nothing," she said.

"The hell it's nothing," said Ron, and broke off as another hand took hold of the door he was holding and swung it wide.

Harry.

She could vaguely see the shapes of Lupin and Sirius behind him, couldn't make out their expressions, and didn't really care. She was looking at Harry, and seeing not just Harry when she did, but the wreck of the fragile structure she had been trying so hard to preserve.

This can't be happening.

"You're lying to me?" Harry said, looking at her with surprise and a dawning sort of dismay. "Lying to me about what?"

"Are you sure about this?" asked the wizard guard, looking anxiously at the boy in front of him. His face was familiar to him from pictures in the Daily Prophet, and of course the resemblance was there, as well. But the pictures hadn't shown such a cold, set expression. Nor had it shown the fear in the boy's eyes. "If you don't mind my saying, you don't look all that well…"

"I'm perfectly fine," said the boy, in the ringingly superior tones of someone used to getting his own way. Although he was wrapped in a floor-length black travelling cloak, and it was not a cold day, his teeth were chattering. "I'm authorized, is that correct?"

"Well, of course you are, but-"

"And you'll be watching?"

"Yes."

"Then let me in."

"All right," said the guard, and took out his wand. The lock on the heavy iron door was less a lock that series of magical wards that required a sequence of spells to remove. The process took several moments, during which the boy stood glaring at him, pale and impatient-looking.

"Are you done yet?" he demanded.

"Yes," said the guard, and pushed the door open. The boy went through without looking at him, and the door shut behind him. As it did, it became transparent, so that the guard could watch what transpired in the room, although its occupants could not see out.

It took Draco's eyes several moments to adjust to the half-light inside the cell. There were no windows, nor were there any lamps.

The light that there was seemed to come from the walls, dimly blue and phosphorescent. By its glow, he made out the shape of the small, square room, a mattress on the floor, and a low table set against a wall. A man sat at the table, holding a book in his lap. He had raised his head when the door opened, and his eyes fell on Draco with a cold and calculating look altogether lacking in surprise.

"I knew you'd come eventually," he said.

Draco felt his hands knot together tightly under his cloak.

"Hello, Father," he said.

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