Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

There was no question of Draco disarming Lucius, of course, his reach wasn't great enough, and anyway every attack maneuver he had ever learned had been taught to him by his father.

But I could still try, he thought…he recalled an extremely fancy move he had learned from his father a year ago and had been practicing in secret, involving a beat, a feint in quarte, a feint in sixte, and a lunge veering off into an attack on the opponent's sword hand. He launched into the sequence and saw Lucius' eyes widen in surprise; felt as brief thrill of victory as the tip of his sword nicked Lucius' hand — before his father, swifter and with greater reach, lunged forward and slammed the flat of his weapon against Draco's wrist. Draco stared in dismay as his numb fingers released his blade.

It clattered to the flagstone as his father, pale and angry-looking, took hold of the front of his son's shirt and shoved him up against the wall. Draco's head hit the stone with enough force to blacken his vision.Lucius drew his arm back and placed the tip of his sword against the boy's throat. "Try to use my own maneuver against me, will you?" he demanded, his voice sharp in Draco's ear. "That was stupid, very stupid. A s if I would teach you a move I don't know the countermove to, you should know better. You were just showing off, weren't you, boy, it's your besetting sin. Just remember-" The sharp tip of Lucius' sword nicked his son's throat and Draco felt the blood begin to flow — "a smug scholar is only a fool, but a smug swordsman is a dead man."

Draco shut his eyes. "Yes, Father."

"Yes, Father, what?"

"Yes, Father, I understand."

Lucius took the blade away, but the cold expression did not leave his eyes. "Do you?" he said. "I really wonder. Sometimes I even wonder if perhaps you want to die."

"No, Father. I don't want to die."

Draco opened his eyes and stared down at the black water fifteen feet below him. He was standing at the edge of the old rock quarry behind the Weasleys' house. He had discovered it quite by accident; flying over, he had seen the moonlight glint off the water and had descended to take a look. From the air, it had looked even more like the moat that Mr. Weasley claimed it was. Up close, it more closely resembled a long, cleft pit in the ground, falling away suddenly and sharply before his feet, studded with uneven rocks. The bottom of the quarry was flooded with water, which gave back his own reflection, dim and cloudy, backlit by a full white moon. From this angle, thrown into relief, Draco thought that he looked like his father: tall, cold, remote…

"Going swimming, Malfoy?"

Draco spun around, nearly stumbling; regained his balance, and stared.

Harry stood about ten feet from him, near where Draco had left his Firebolt, under the shade of a cluster of trees. Draco had always thought that people who claimed that they couldn't believe their eyes were overstating, but at this moment he actually could not, did not want to, believe that he was really seeing Harry.

But he was. As Harry stepped out of the shade, the moonlight traced the hollow under his eyes, the shape of his face, his set, stubborn expression. He had his hands in his pockets, but his posture wasn't casual, he was glaring at Draco with a challenging expression in his eyes.

"Potter," said Draco wearily. "You again. And no, I'm not going swimming. I don't know how to swim, for starters, and Charlie's clothes weigh about a ton. What are you doing here, anyway?"

Harry didn't open his mouth, but Draco heard his voice echo inside his head. What do you think I'm doing here?

Draco's jaw dropped. "How did you do that?"

Harry looked pleased. Neat trick, isn't it? Lupin re-opened up that mental link we had from the Polyjuice potion..I suppose we could have done this all along if we'd bothered to try. Don't worry, he added, his mouth curling up at the corners, I can't read your mind any more than you can read mine.

"I wasn't worried," Draco lied.

Harry's mouth curled up even further. Yes, you were. But fear not, your fantasies about Professor Flitwick in a leather bikini are completely safe from me.

Draco snorted. Professor Flitwick?

See, there you go. You can do it too. It's a Magid thing, you know.

Draco sighed. "Yeah, I guess I can, but so what?" he said out loud, and saw a vaguely hurt expression cross Harry's face. "Listen to me, Potter. This is not a good place for you to be right now. Go Apparate yourself back home."

You think I don't know why you want me to go? You want to get on with drowning yourself in peace. Well, I won't leave.

"What I do doesn't concern you."

Damn right it concerns me-

"Dammit, Potter, talk out loud!" Draco yelled, his frayed temper snapping. "Get out of my head!"

Harry took a step back, now looking more than just vaguely hurt, but not a whit less stubborn. 'Fine, but-"

"But nothing!" Draco shouted. "You know, it's a mystery to me how you've managed to stay alive all these years, walking blithely into horrible danger every chance you get. I bet you think it's charming and amusing and heroic. Well, it isn't. You're just stupid, is what you are. You're stupid, and you're going to die in a stupid, wasteful way

— and if it wasn't for other people, you'd already be dead a hundred times over. And you know it. And that's what I can't believe. Because your life actually means something, Potter, you were put on this earth for a reason, and you just want to throw it all away. You make me sick."

Harry's eyes sparked angrily. "Me throwing my life away? That's rich, coming from you. There's no point being jealous of me when-"

"Who says I'm jealous of you?"

"You are," said Harry calmly. "Just like I'm jealous of you."

"Well, of course you're jealous of me," said Draco. "I dress well, I speak beautifully, I have a great sense of humor, I can dance, I'm introspective, fun, creative, playful, and passionate, plus I have a knowledge of fine wines and am a devastatingly handsome heir to millions."

Harry eyed him narrowly. "Thanks, but I'm already in a relationship."

"Very funny," said Draco sourly.

"Can we talk about something else, Malfoy? Like the fact that your hands are shaking and you're thinking about killing yourself — "

"I wasn't going to do it," snapped Draco. "Everybody thinks about — "

"I don't," said Harry firmly. "Not ever."

Draco looked at Harry, who had his hands stuffed in his pockets and was looking at him with the same sort of steady searching expression he sometimes got when looking for the Snitch. He opened his mouth to say something, when he felt a sudden bolt of cold shoot up his left arm and, glancing down, saw the sword twitch in his grasp. He glanced back up at Harry, his heart beating more rapidly now. "You're still stupid," he said harshly. "Walking into traps-"

Harry looked puzzled. "Walking into traps? What traps?"

"Me," said Draco, and the sword in his hand twitched hard against his hand, like metal drawn to a powerful magnet. "I'm the trap. I thought you knew that."

Harry took a step toward him. You wouldn't hurt me.

"Oh, yes," said Draco. The sword jerked again in his grasp, more insistently this time, like a dog wanting to be let off its leash. Draco glanced down at it, then back up at Harry as a cold certainty spread like poison through his veins. "Yes, I will. I don't want to, but I will.

Get out of here, Potter. I'm warning you."

"You're making a big fuss about nothing," said Harry, taking another step towards him. Draco couldn't quite believe how obtuse Harry was being. He wanted to cut and run, but his legs felt as if they had been filled with lead and there was a strange and increasingly terrible buzzing in his ears. It's the potion, he thought, Snape's potion, draining out of my blood. I'm losing it, losing my grip -