Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

Harry lowered his hands and looked over at Draco. He said, "How long have you been standing there, Malfoy?"

"Long enough," said Draco casually. "I may be a cold-blooded piece of toast, but I've got impeccable timing."

"Draco — " Hermione began, starting forward.

Ron caught her arm. "Let's hear what he has to say for himself, Hermione," he said.

All the eyes in the room were turned on Draco. He didn't move, didn't change expression, but his silver eyes spat angry sparks. "I've got nothing to say," he snarled. "Except that if you think I'd sell my soul for this, you have even less imagination than I gave you credit for."

"It takes imagination to give you credit for having a soul in the first place, Malfoy," said Ron.

For a brief moment, Draco almost looked as if he were going to laugh. "You'd be surprised," he said.

"Draco," said Sirius, leaning forward on the desk, his low voice tense. "You have to tell us what's been happening. Harry's told us some things that are very disturbing, and we need to know that-"

"You're not my father," said Draco icily, glaring at Sirius. "I don't have to tell you anything. What is it you think you need to know?

That I'm not dangerous? Well, I can't promise you that. Especially if

— "

"Nobody thinks you sold your soul," interrupted Lupin, coming around the desk and approaching Draco warily, as if he were a bomb that might go off. "You're being melodramatic. We're afraid for you, not — "

"Shut up, werewolf," said Draco, evenly. "And don't come near me."

Hermione saw with a sinking heart how very angry he was. She wasn't exactly sure why, but it was hardly the first time she had run up against his pride in a situation where he felt called on to defend himself. She tried to catch his eye across the room, but he wasn't looking at her; he was looking over at Harry. And Harry was looking back at him, with an odd sort of blank look, which she couldn't quite read.

"Malfoy," he said, finally. "If there's really nothing wrong with you -

then give us the sword." He held out a hand. "Give it to me."

Draco took a step back. "Fuck you, Potter," he said, and turned around as if he were going to bolt out of the room. But Lupin — who could move very, very quickly when necessary — blocked his way.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, and reached out to take hold of Draco's arm.

Draco, trying to yank his arm out of Lupin's grip, twisted sideways, nearly colliding with Lupin as he did so.

Lupin gave a sudden yell, as if of extreme pain — he fell backwards, stumbling, and landed on the floor.

Draco backed away from him, white-faced, holding his arm and staring wide-eyed, with an expression that could have been astonishment, or horror, or guilt.

"Malfoy-!" said Harry.

And Draco turned and bolted out of the room, not even bothering to slam the door behind him.

Sirius, who had dropped to his knees on the floor next to Lupin, looked wildly up at Ron, Harry, and Hermione. "Go after him!" he yelled.

They didn't need to be told twice. Feverishly, the three of them bolted out of the library and into the corridor.

Which was empty.

Harry looked up and down the hall briefly, and said, "Split up. Go, both of you," and bolted off to the right. Hermione and Ron dashed to the left, but parted ways at the end of the corridor, Ron racing down the stairs while Hermione turned to the right- before she suddenly paused and thought: What am I doing? I'm so stupid!

And reached for the Epicyclical Charm around her neck.

"Get off, Sirius. I'm fine," said Lupin irritably, pushing his friend's hands away as he struggled to sit up. He leaned back against the bookshelf, cradling his right arm against his chest. "I'm fine!" he repeated, with emphasis.

"What happened?" Sirius demanded. "What did he do to you?"

Lupin's eyes widened. "Draco? He didn't do anything to me."

"Well, it looked like he did. You grabbed him, and then you yelled and collapsed. Did he hit you? It didn't look like he even moved."

"No, he didn't hit me, he didn't even touch me," said Lupin. "It was that."

And he pointed at an object lying on the ground a few feet away that gave off a dull silvery glint.

"He must have had it in his pocket," said Lupin thoughtfully.

Sirius looked askance. "What is it? Is it dangerous?"

"Not to you," said Lupin. "Go on. Pick it up."

Looking dubious, Sirius retrieved the glinting object held it up to the light. It was the silver pendant that Slytherin had tossed to Draco, that had acted as a Portkey, although there was no way Sirius could have known that. He glanced at the odd shape of it-the sideways X, almost, but not quite, a cross.

He walked back over to Lupin, who was still sitting on the floor, cradling his arm. Sirius knelt down next to him, holding out the silver X, but Lupin shook his head. "I can't touch it," he said.

"Why not?"

"It's a Lycanthe," said Lupin. "Old magic. Protection against werewolves."

"I thought it was a crucifix," said Sirius, looking askance. "Crucifixes don't bother you, do they?"

Lupin looked aggrieved. "I'm a werewolf, not a vampire," he snapped. "It's a Lycanthe, like I said. Not a crucifix. Totally different.

Very, very old magic."

"Strange shape," said Sirius, turning it over in his hands.

"Not really," said Lupin, and smiled a funny half-smile. "Say you're walking through the forest at night," he said. "Alone. No help in sight, and you don't have a wand. Then a wolf jumps out of the darkness, straight at your throat. What do you do?"

Without thinking, Sirius threw up his arms — one across his throat, the other crossed over it, protecting his face. Making a sideways X.

"Right," said Lupin. "Lycanthe. Old magic. Like I said."

Sirius blinked and lowered his arms.

"The question is," mused Lupin, "why would Draco have something like that? They were common hundreds of years ago — when werewolves were a problem — but now-"

He broke off as the library door flew open. Sirius leaped to his feet and spun around, obviously hoping that Harry, Hermione and Ron had managed to retrieve Draco — but it was Narcissa.

She was very pale. "Sirius — " she said, uncertainly. She was holding two letters in her hand — one, tied with a green-and-silver ribbon, Sirius knew immediately, was Snape's reply. The other she had opened already, and was holding unfolded in her shaking right hand. Sirius could see, even across the room, that it was an official-looking piece of paper, and that it was bordered with black. "Sirius," she said again. "It's Dumbledore — he and Fudge were on their way here and they were attacked — oh Sirius, I'm so sorry…"

Draco, who had dashed down a little-used staircase he was fairly sure the others didn't know about, emerged out in the garden, and began racing towards the gate where he had stashed his broomstick.

He was halfway there — not running, but walking quickly — when he heard footsteps on the path behind him.

Harry, he thought. He couldn't have said why, but for some reason, was sure it was Harry. It made sense, didn't it, for Harry to come after him — after all, Harry knew —

He slowed to a walk. "It's like you said, Potter," he said, without turning around. "I'm storming off. It doesn't work if you come with me."

There was a short silence, and the footsteps behind him slowed.

Then he heard a voice say, "Draco. It's me."

He whirled around, and saw Hermione, and felt something that he never would have expected he could feel upon seeing her. But there it was.