Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

Disappointment.

He had thought Harry had come after him.

And Harry hadn't.

A cold miserable anguish lanced through him like a sharp steel point, and made his voice harsh when he spoke. "You shouldn't have come after me," he said.

"Where are you going?" she demanded. "Where do you think you can run to?"

"I was pretty much concentrating on 'away from you', and figuring I'd fill in the rest of it later."

"This from the guy who thinks Gryffindors can't plan?" Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "You can't go," she said. "This is your house, where you belong. Where else are you going to find people who can help you?"

"Maybe I don't want help," he said, knowing he sounded as if he were about seven, but unable to help it.

"Maybe that just proves you need it," she said.

"And you're completely objective about whether I stay or go, I suppose?"

"God, you sound just like Ron," she said, sounding surprised rather than critical. "Of course I'm not objective. But I'd be telling you this even if — even if I wasn't in love with you."

"You're not in love with me," he snapped. "This is just a spell. A spell that makes you think you care about me. But you don't."

Hermione looked as if he had hit her. "Don't say that. I'm still your friend."

"Is that why you came bolting after me? Friendship?"

"I'm not the only one who came running after you!" she snapped.

"Everyone's worried — "

"So where are they?"

"Looking for you!" she shouted. "But they don't know where you went, idiot. I'm the only one who can find you, because of this-" And she drew out the Epicyclical Charm, on its thin gold chain, holding it up between them. "I always know where you are," she said. "I don't get a choice about that, and neither do you."

"Why should you get a choice?" he almost shouted. "I don't! I don't get a choice about my family or my life or my destiny, if I've even really got one. And I don't get a choice about loving you, even though I personally think you were put here on this earth to give me pain. I mean, I know I'm not a nice person, but what the fuck did I do in my past life to deserve this? I must have run down a cartload of nuns while driving a stolen carriage on my way to sell drugs to school children."

Hermione took a shuddering breath. "When I find out how to take this spell off — if there's some sort of way to reverse love, or change it — do you want me to use it on you, too? So you won't — "

"So I won't love you any more?" He was looking at her in sheer disbelief. "God, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. This — this isn't even you," he said. "This isn't what you're like. That potion is turning you into someone else." He laughed, not pleasantly. "It's ironic, isn't it? The you that I love, loves Harry. This you — this is someone I don't even know." He looked at her, and something in the expression on her face made his voice soften slightly. "Never mind," he said. "It's not your fault."

"I just thought-"

"Forget it," he said, walked up to her, and put his hands on her shoulders. She bit her lip. She knew perfectly well that if he were to kiss her, she would kiss him back. She had always prided herself on her self-control, and now, not to have any, was more terrifying to her than to be suddenly blind, or suddenly deaf. She hated it, and somewhere under the potion-induced love, she could tell she was beginning to hate him, too, for what he could do to her.

He pulled her towards him, and put his arms around her — but made no move to kiss her. Just held her there, his face in her hair, his hands clenched into fists against her back. It was a very awkward hug — the first really awkward thing she had ever seen him do — as if he'd never hugged anyone before. Maybe he hadn't.

The moment she raised her own hands — to embrace him or push him away, she wasn't sure — his arms went rigid and he shoved her away from him. She felt a sudden sharp pain at the back of her neck, glimpsed a flash of gold as he stepped back from her, and saw the Epicyclical Charm glittering in his hand. He had yanked it off her throat.

"Now you can't find me," he said.

"You idiot," she exclaimed, and launched herself at him, grabbing hold of his sleeve and hanging on tightly. She raised her voice, and shouted, "Harry! Ron! We're over here! Harry! Anybody!"

"Hermione, shut up," he exclaimed, trying to wrench his arm out of her grip, but she hung on with determination. "Let me go."

"No," she said.

He looked at her. "I'm sorry, then," he said, and raised his hand, the Charm on its chain looped around his fingers, and pointed it at her -

— "I'm sorry, Hermione," he repeated. "Stupefy!"

She didn't even have a chance to look surprised, just fell backwards, unconscious, onto the grass. He wanted to drop down next to her, make sure she was all right, but there was the sudden sound of running feet on gravel, and he looked up and saw Ginny, standing on the path, staring from one of them to the other. "You knocked her out?" she said, looking utterly amazed. "Draco, what on earth-?"

"Had to," he said briefly, and started to back up toward the wall, feeling behind him for his broomstick. The sound of more running feet was audible now — Harry and Ron, he thought dismally, as his hand closed around his Firebolt. He mounted it, and looked back at Ginny, standing next to Hermione on the wet ground.

"When she wakes up, tell her — " Draco began, and felt his throat close up suddenly. Ginny was looking at him, her expression unreadable in the half-light. "Oh, forget it," he finished wearily. "For once in my life, I've got nothing at all to say."

And with that, he kicked off, leaning forward to grip his Firebolt tightly, soaring upward, vanishing into the night sky.

There was just enough illumination in the cell for Lucius Malfoy to see the circle he had drawn on the floor in his blood. They would not, of course, let him have a wand; he had had to bite one of the veins in his wrist open with his own teeth to get what he needed. But it was far from the worst thing he had ever been forced to do.

Moving carefully, he sat down in the center of the circle, arranging his robes carefully around him. Then he held his hands out before him, in the left hand his son's Epicyclical Charm held loosely, its dull gold glittering in the faint light. "Vocatio," he whispered, and paused. Did he still remember how to do this? Yes. Yes, of course he did. "Vocatio," he began again, the words of the Summoning spell coming more easily to him now: Master, I have something for you…

References:

1) "Probably on account of that one time you beat him up for seven years straight when we were in school." Buffy 2) "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." — Real Genius.

3) "I may be a cold-blooded piece of toast, but I've got impeccable timing." Buffy.

4) "I'm storming away; it doesn't work if you come with me" — Buffy, "Dopplegangland"

5) Lycanthe: The concept comes from Tanith Lee's Lycanthia, in which Lycanthes are symbols scratched in snow to keep werewolves away. I have retained the crossed-X shape.

"Enervate," Ginny whispered, and Hermione's eyes fluttered open.

For a moment she looked dazed, her eyes reflecting stars and moonlight, and then she sat up and clutched at Ginny. Startled, Ginny nearly fell over, but hugged her back. "It's all right, you're all right," she said.

Hermione continued clutching at her arm, and Ginny saw that the glittering in her eyes wasn't the reflected night sky after all, but tears. "Is he gone?"

Ginny replied flatly. "He's gone."