Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

Draco's surprise, he had no urge to pull away, despite the fact that he usually didn't much like being touched — the gesture was oddly fatherly. "I meant in here," said Snape, tapping Draco's left temple with a thin finger. "There are the war wounds of enchanters carried.

I have them myself. You are fighting a battle, young Mr. Malfoy.

Even if you don't quite know it yet."

"I don't quite understand," said Mrs. Weasley, as she rejoined Ron and Ginny at the breakfast table, bearing a plate of toast. It was nearly eleven o'clock and they were breakfasting late, but Mrs.

Weasley had thought it advisable to let her exhausted daughter and youngest son get a little extra sleep after what they'd been through the past week. As a consequence, there were only three of them at the breakfast table, Mr. Weasley having already departed for a meeting at the Ministry. "What exactly is the situation with the Malfoy boy? Sirius said he was missing…?"

"He's missing," agreed Ron blandly, reaching for the toast. "That's the situation."

"I remember seeing him at Flourish and Blott's several years ago, with his awful father," mused Mrs. Weasley, half to herself. "He looked a pale, underfed little thing…"

"He's grown a lot since then," said Ginny in what she hoped was a neutral tone, and reached for the jam.

"Is he at all like Lucius?" asked Mrs. Weasley. "Not to speak ill of the dead, but…"

"Yes, he's just like him," said Ron, at the same time that Ginny said, "No! Not at all."

Mrs. Weasley looked startled.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You'll have to forgive Ginny," he said to his mother in a world-weary tone. "She fancies him."

The jam spoon flew out of Ginny's hand. "Ron, be quiet," she said, glaring at her brother.

"Well, you do," said Ron. "You fancy the pants off him. Admit it."

Ginny was conscious of her mother watching this exchange with a lively interest, and blushed bright red.

"I thought you fancied Harry," said Mrs. Weasley cheerfully. "I am behind the times."

"Harry's old news," said Ron, with a grin that was half malice, half mischief. "Discarded, kicked to the curb, The Boy Who Got Dumped.

Not that you were ever going out," he added to Ginny, "but you know what I mean."

"Ron," said Mrs. Weasley in a quelling tone, although her eyes were dancing. "Leave your sister alone."

Ron turned to her, looking injured, "But Mum, he's a Malfoy!"

"So what?" said Mrs. Weasley. "Don't be so medieval, Ron." Ron goggled at his mother like a stranded goldfish while she reached serenely for the teapot. "You'll have to learn to get along with him, won't you?" she said to her son. "If he's going to be Harry's stepbrother."

Ron mumbled something that sounded like "Not if he never turns up again."

Ginny glared at him, and turned to her mother, "That's a good point, Mum. If Harry likes him — "

Ron made an impatient noise. "Harry doesn't like him."

Mrs. Weasley looked curious. "Wouldn't you describe Draco as a friend of Harry's?"

"No," said Ron. "I would describe him as a twat in pretentious trousers."

"That," said Mrs. Weasley, in a tone of voice that meant she was not to be argued with, "is not the impression I got."

"What, you're a fan of the leather trousers too, Mum?" Ron asked, misinterpreting her on purpose and grinning as he did so.

Mrs. Weasley looked surprised, then smiled. "Leather trousers? You know, Sirius used to have leather trousers back when he had his motorcycle. Before…well, you know. When he was doing his Auror training at the Ministry. Sometimes," she added, looking faintly misty, "he even wore them to work."

"MUM!" exclaimed Ron, looking appalled.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. "Never mind. Now, what were we talking about? Oh, yes I had a question for you two. What do you think of Professor Lupin?"

This abrupt change of topic made both Ron and Ginny blink in surprise. Ron recovered first. "Lupin? He's great," he said. "Best teacher we ever had."

Ginny nodded agreement. "He always has chocolate. What's not to like?"

"He asked me the oddest question," said Mrs. Weasley. "He wanted to know if we had any Hufflepuff ancestors."

Ron and Ginny exchanged glances; Ron spoke first. "What'd you say, Mum?"

Mrs. Weasley turned a bit pink around the ears. "I didn't say anything. Luckily your father was talking to Sirius or he would have started going on and on about how the Weasley family weasel looks a lot like the Hufflepuff badger, and how the Burrow used to be a castle — "

"And the wine cellar used to be a dungeon," said Ron in a bored tone. "And the rock quarry out back used to be a moat. It's all nonsense, anyway."

"Well, there are manacles on the wall down in the wine cellar,"

Ginny pointed out.

"Yeah," said Ron, his voice dripping sarcasm, "because Fred and George put them there so they could chain up Percy when he was supposed to be babysitting."

Mrs. Weasley was horrified. "Fred and George chained up Percy?"

Ron looked as if he was aware he had said something he shouldn't.

"Well, it was all in good fun and they never used the leg irons — "

Ron was saved further explanation as, with a soft *pop * Mr. Weasley Apparated into the kitchen.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley jumped up, startled by the sight of her husband. Ginny, too, looked at him curiously; she had never seen her father look so disheveled. His robes were creased and untidy, his red hair standing up every which way, his face crumpled into lines of strain and dismay. "Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said again, hurrying towards him. "What's the matter? What are you doing back from London so soon?"

"The meeting was over," said Mr. Weasley tonelessly. "They've chosen a new Minister of Magic."

Ron swiveled around in his seat to stare at his father. "Who is it?"

Mr. Weasley swallowed visibly. "Well," he said slowly. "Me."

Hermione, Sirius and Lupin were eating breakfast in the library when Harry wandered in, tousle-haired and yawning. Hermione glanced up and smiled when she saw him, although her smile faded a bit when she realized how tired he looked. The indigo sweater he wore rather unhappily matched the blue shadows under his eyes.

"Hey," he said, glancing around in surprise, "how long have you guys been awake? How come nobody came and got me up?"

Sirius glanced up from the papers he was perusing. "We thought it was better to let you sleep."

"It must be three in the afternoon," said Harry irritably, came over to Hermione, kissed her rather perfunctorily on the ear, and threw himself down in a chair. "Where's Narcissa?"

"She had to go to the Ministry; there's an inquest into Lucius' death," Sirius replied.

"Don't they want to talk to you, too, Sirius? I mean you were actually in the cell where he…"

"Exploded?" Hermione finished for him, sweetly. She felt a bit guilty about not being more sorry that Lucius was dead, but couldn't shake the feeling that, assuming that they managed to get Draco back safely and in one piece, it was the best thing that could have happened for him.

"Don't remind me. Yes, I'll be going to the Ministry tomorrow." He flipped over a page, sighed irritably, and glared over at Lupin. "Are you sure this translation key you gave me is correct? I can't make any sense out of this spell…"

"You've got a translation key for the Parseltongue?" asked Harry curiously.

"I managed to take the Parseltongue spell off the book," said Lupin, pushing the diary towards Harry and Hermione. "The problem is that the most useful part of the book, which is where Slytherin listed all the spells he used, was doubly encoded…he was apparently very suspicious that someone might try to steal his spells. He wrote in Mermish, Trollish, French…"