Кассандра Клэр: Draco Sinister

Draco was now seriously alarmed. Given Harry's already-proven abilities to conjure up hailstorms of owls and blue snow, he was afraid it might at any moment start raining toads. Or bricks. Or sharp, pointy objects.

"Potter," he said, "I want you to know something. Ultimately, this is for your own good."

"What is?" said Harry, looking at him in bewilderment.

"This," said Draco, and kicked Harry, hard, in the ribs.

"Uck!" said Harry, or something very like, doubling up and gasping.

When he got his breath back, he looked up at Draco in fury. "You asshole, Malfoy," he said, got to his feet, and punched Draco in the eye.

It was not in Draco's nature to take a pummeling without fighting back. He swung at Harry and hit him in the jaw. It was ultimately, however, a losing proposition; Draco was taller and had the greater reach, but Harry had the strength born from blind fury-not just at Draco, but at life in general. By the time Lupin and the rest of the class had poured out of the room to see what was going on, Harry was sitting on top of Draco and hitting him with both fists.

"'Arry!" squealed Fleur, who didn't like to see boys fighting unless it was over her. "You will not 'it Draco! You will ruin 'is face!"

"HARRY!" bellowed Lupin, his voice dripping icicles. "DRACO. YOU

WILL EXPLAIN YOURSELVES."

Harry stopped hitting Draco and stared from him to Lupin, looking dazed.

"IN MY OFFICE NOW!" said Lupin.

Harry got up, and so did Draco. Both of them were bleeding, although Draco looked a deal worse than Harry. They reluctantly followed Lupin down the hall to his office, aware of the curious stares of the other students at their backs. Lupin yanked the door of his office open, ushered them inside, hissed "SIT DOWN AND DON'T

MOVE UNTIL I GET BACK," and slammed the door.

It was suddenly very quiet, except for the gentle ticking of the clock on the office wall. Draco looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye. Harry looked at Draco out of the corner of his eye. And saw that he was grinning.

"What's funny, Malfoy?" he said with a mixture of curiosity and indignation.

"Kept you from burying us all in a mountain of shrapnel, didn't I?"

said Draco, who could only grin out of one side of his mouth, which gave him a lopsided and vaguely psychotic air. "Distracted you at the crucial moment. Feel better now?"

Harry, who did indeed feel better, looked down at his bleeding knuckles, then back up at Draco, and felt also suddenly guilty.

"Malfoy," he said haltingly, "I'm really, really sorry that I-"

"Forget it!" said Draco cheerfully. "The look on your face when I kicked you in the ribs, that was so worth it!"

Harry's feeling of guilt vanished. "There's just no point apologizing to you, is there?"

Draco waved a dismissive hand. "I don't ever apologize, why should you?"

"You don't apologize? Like you don't faint?"

"Right," said Draco.

"What else don't you do?"

"I don't cry," said Draco. "And I don't dance. Hate dancing." He shuddered. "And I don't think Hermione's in love with Viktor Krum, either."

Harry winced. "Can we not talk about that?"

"Come on, Potter!" said Draco, who had wandered over to Lupin's desk and was casually examining the objects that lay on it. "Think about it. It makes no sense-" He broke off. "Hey, Potter, look at this."

Harry came over to see what Draco was looking at, and glanced over his shoulder. A large and rather musty-looking book sat open on Lupin's desk. Harry touched it gingerly; it had a thick leathery cover and the pages were old, yellowed and powdery. The book was open to a page which showed woodcut illustrations of various objects —

something that looked like a gauntlet, then a rather nasty-looking skull, and underneath both those things, a drawing of a sword. It wasn't detailed, but the jewels in the hilt were very definitely green.

The heading across the top of the page read: Daemonic Artifacts: A User's Guide. The Living Blade. The writing beneath that was very hard to read, being splotched with bits of candle-wax and the occasional suspicious-looking brown stain.

…For which this blade was at one time or still is, any part or partition of the body or spirit of a demon… whosoever possesses such a blade must know its nature. Such a blade can be borne; but at great cost to the bearer, whether that cost be of body, or of soul in the nature of an Exchange. Whosoever comes across such an object must know that it is a Talisman of Purest Evil, and should only be dealt with in a manner pursuant to its destruction.

"Purest Evil," said Harry thoughtfully. "That sounds bad."

"What sounds bad is that he's going to destroy my sword," said Draco, looking furious. "I never should have lent it to him…what was I thinking?"

"You don't know he's going to destroy your sword," said Harry reasonably. "It might not be one of these…Living Blade things."

Draco looked at Harry. Harry looked sheepish. "Okay, okay. It probably is. But if it's a Talisman of Purest Evil, do you really want to keep it?"

"Hell, yes," said Draco.

Harry shook his head. "I do not understand you, Malfoy."

The office door opened, and they both jumped back several feet. It was Lupin of course, looking very grave. He came into the office, shut the door behind him, and sat down behind his desk. He looked from Harry-who was cowering against one wall-to Draco, who was cowering against the wall opposite, and said, "I'm sorry I shouted at you. You…alarmed me. I'm not much of a fan of physical violence, and Harry, I rather thought you weren't either."

"Oh, he's not usually," said Draco cheerfully. "But Hermione stomped all over his heart with hobnailed boots, so he's a bit edgy."

"Hermione..?" Lupin echoed, looking astounded. Harry, who had gone red, scowled and said nothing. "All right," said Lupin. "Never mind. I've always thought it was unfortunate," he added, "that one's Magid powers, which are so closely tuned to both one's wizarding skills and one's control over emotions, tend to kick in right around adolescence, when one had very little of either. Harry, stop scowling.

I'm sure Hermione would never, er, do anything to…" He trailed off.

"All right, that's none of my business. But if you're really upset, Harry, maybe you should talk to Sirius?"

"Oh," said Harry. "No. I don't think so."

"Actually, that's not that bad of an idea," said Draco. "He could beat up Viktor Krum for you, Potter."

"Viktor Krum?" repeated Lupin, raising his eyebrows.

"Hermione went to Bulgaria with Viktor Krum last night," said Draco, who seemed determined to act as Greek Chorus. "And she wrote Harry a letter, but I've been telling him I don't think she meant it, because I mean if you've ever seen pictures of Krum he's only got one eyebrow and Potter here might not be winning any beauty competitions, but-"

"That's impossible!" said Lupin, who was looking both exasperated and amused.

"It isn't," said Draco. "He really only has the one eyebrow."

"I meant," said Lupin, "that Hermione er, running off with Viktor Krum to Bulgaria is impossible."

Harry looked startled. "Why do you say that?"

"Because," said Lupin, "Viktor Krum is in London. He led the Bulgarian Quidditch team to a stunning victory again Switzerland just this morning. I heard a play-by-play on the Wizarding Wireless.

He is most definitely," Lupin added, "and certainly, NOT in Bulgaria."

"Percy, come on," said Ron, exasperated. "Can't you be helpful, just this once?"

"Percy, please," added Ginny, looking entreatingly at her older brother, or at least all of him that was visible — which was his head, floating in the fireplace. Ron and Ginny were kneeling in front of the fireplace, trying very hard not to cough from the soot.