Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"There's someone besides me who's been waiting for you to wake up," she went on, dropping her voice.

Harry looked as if he immediately knew exactly who she meant: Hermione, of course. He closed his mouth, and pressed it into a thin line. "I don't want to see her."

Narcissa looked at Harry, who raised his chin defiantly. And in that moment, she thought, he actually did, in some way, resemble Draco.

In his stubbornness, if nothing else. "Not even for a minute?"

"No."

"You're going to have to see her eventually-"

"Not alone."

"She loves you."

Harry now looked terribly uncomfortable. "I don't think-"

"Of course not, how could you?"

Harry blinked, feeling wretchedly confused and somewhat beleaguered. "How could I what?"

"Think. How could you think of anything, except how horrible this situation is, how utterly awful for both of you?"

"Er," said Harry. "Is this advice? Because I don't really think that…"

"You don't think I know what I'm talking about," said Narcissa, firmly. "Because I don't know you. And in a way, you're right. I don't know you very well, Harry. And the grown-up in me wants to tell you that you're sixteen and you'll get over Hermione and to move on and not to worry. But as a person who has seen you two together, all I can tell you is that in my life, I have never seen anyone look at anyone else the way she looks at you. Unless it's the way you look at her. I wouldn't throw that away if I were you."

Harry, who had gone alternatingly red and white during this speech, stared at Narcissa with wide eyes as she stood up, laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and squeezed it lightly. "Keep it in mind," she said, and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Why me?" Draco asked, as Fleur started to take off his jacket.

She paused and looked at him. "Why not you?"

"Well, you're very beautiful you know, and you could pretty much have anyone. And I'm younger than you. I mean, admittedly I'm fabulously attractive and also very rich, as well as being charming and posh and clever and all-around magnificent and hang on, all that is starting to sound very convincing. No wonder you like me."

"It's because you're a Magid," said Fleur, hooked her foot behind his ankle, and yanked. He fell over backward and landed on the ground, looking up at her. "And I do like you." She frowned at him. "But you are beginning to irritate me." She knelt down next to him, gracefully settling her robes around herself as she did so. "Do you know what happens to those who break a sacred vow they have made to a veela?"

He propped himself up on his elbows, which sank into the wet earth, and shook his head. "If you think that by threatening me you can get me to do whatever you want," he said, and paused, "-well, that's where you're right. But — and I am not saying this because I don't like you — there are plenty of other Magids back at school; I'm hardly the only one."

Fleur put her hands on her hips. "Like who?"

"Well," he said, "What about Harry?"

Fleur looked surprised. "Harry?"

"Why not Harry?" said Draco, who couldn't believe he was saying this. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with him really. I'm not about to rush out and buy the Harry Potter Swimsuit Calendar, but you know, he's tall, and he's got dark hair, and green eyes and girls like that, and — are you unlacing my boots?"

"Well, you can't keep them on, can you?" she said reasonably, yanking off one shoe. "Oh, look you have ducks on your socks! That is so cute. And yes, Harry is also very attractive. But he is far too in love with his girlfriend."

"So am I," Draco pointed out.

She shook her head. "It's not the same."

"Why not?" snapped Draco irritably, as she yanked off his shoes.

"Because she doesn't love you back," said Fleur, and yanked off the other shoe.

"Thank you for that observation," he said, wryly. "Would you like to take a knife and stick it in my chest and twist it around a bit?

Because I don't think you've quote reached your sadism quota for the evening."

In answer, Fleur put her hand on his chest and pushed him down, hard. Drawing back the hood of her cloak, she crawled on top of him, letting her long silvery hair fall down around them like a cage of shimmering strands. "You should not be depressed," she said, poking him in the ribs with her finger. "You are a Malfoy. You are rich and you are famous and when you grow up a bit you will be very good-looking. You have powers most people only dream of, and you are part-veela, which is a very good thing to be. You have nothing to be depressed about."

"What do you mean when I grow up a bit? I'm good-looking now!" he protested, propping himself up on his elbows.

Fleur giggled. Because of the way she was sitting, with her hands on his chest, he actually felt the giggle vibrate through his ribcage.

"And you've no idea what I'm depressed about," he added. "No idea."

"So tell me."

And, rather to his utter amazement, he did, starting with the flight to find Hermione, continuing on through the love potion and winding up with his visit to his father that afternoon. When he was done he felt ever so slightly, although not entirely, better. "And there you have it," he finished. "My father's a maniac and I'm some kind of spawn of the Dark Lord and now I should probably kill you before you can go to the Ministry, but frankly, I'm too tired."

"You wouldn't hurt me," said Fleur, curving her lips into a mysterious smile. "Unless I wanted you to."

"That's optimistic of you. Did you miss the part of the story where I'm evil?"

"Oh, evil," said Fleur, making a dismissive gesture with her hand.

"There is no such thing." She leaned forward and started to run her finger meditatively up and down his sternum. "Things are not so black and white as you make them out to be."

"Oh great, a lecture on moral relativism, just what I don't need. My father says I'm evil and he is the expert in that department, so I think I'm perfectly justified in being worried and okay people usually ask before they do that, what are you doing? Stop!" He grabbed her hand. "Didn't you hear any part of anything that I just told you?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down at him, biting her lip in what looked like either thoughtfulness or vexation, he wasn't sure. She was extremely pretty; probably, in fact, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Beautiful in an entirely different way than Hermione, who was beautiful in the bright flashes of her personality and intelligence that showed through everything she did.

"Are you telling me no?" she said.

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm telling you-" he began, and then broke off. He had a strange urge to laugh, but repressed it. "Sod it. It's not like I've got a lot of virtue to protect. If you want to kiss me, kiss me."

"All right," she said, and leaned forward.

At first, the kiss landed rather awkwardly on the side of his mouth, so he reached up to take hold of her shoulders to pull her into a better position. He sat forward a little, leaning into the kiss, sliding his hands up into her spun-silk hair — her mouth was cool, and tasted of lemons — and was just beginning to enjoy it when a thunderous, explosive noise split the clearing.

He jerked away from Fleur, who, unbalanced, fell to the side, landing on her knees. "Ooof," she said, irritably. "What's wrong with you?"

But Draco was staring past her, towards the dragon-shaped bridge that arched over the now-dry pond. A large chunk of the iron railing had, for no apparent reason, torn itself free and collapsed sideways, landing in a clump of twisted metal on the muddy dirt. That was the noise that he had heard. "What..?" he began.

"Oh,' said Fleur, following his gaze. "Yes, that's because we're both Magids, you know? When emotions are generated between us like that — " She made a very expressive, very French gesture with her hands — "Boom!"