Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

Next to him, he heard Harry give a little gasp of surprise.

"Wormtail."

Hermione glanced up as Harry suddenly jerked sideways, his head rolling back and forth for a moment before he subsided. She let the book on her lap slide to the floor as she went over and sat down next to him on the arm of his chair.

He was quiet again, as the spell had said he would be; he wasn't supposed to even be moving. He lay immobile, breathing very shallowly, but she could see his eyes darting back and forth between his closed eyelids as if he were dreaming. Where are you, Harry? she thought. What are you seeing? Have you found him? Is he all right?

That feeling was back again, that feeling as if someone had dropped a cold anchor right in the middle of her stomach, or as if she had swallowed jagged little bits of glass. It had different when Draco had been around, closer to her, then it had felt as if she had swallowed burning matches. But this was just as bad — she missed him with a terrible acute sort of ache, and at the same time, desperately didn't want to see him, because she knew what would happen if she did.

She reached forward and gently pushed the hair out of Harry's eyes.

He didn't move, didn't seem to feel her hand, but it gave her at least a momentary sense of ease just to touch him. It was torture to worry about Draco. It was worse torture to worry about Harry. But having to worry about both of them at the same time was the worst sort of torture she could have imagined. If this love potion was meant as a punishment, she thought, it's certainly working.

The cell door clanged shut behind Sirius, clicking as it locked. His arm around Lupin's shoulders, he half-carried, half-dragged him over to the low stone bench that ran along one wall and lowered him onto it.

Lupin rolled over onto his back, looked up at Sirius, and groaned.

"When I said take me to a cell and lock me in, I didn't mean you should lock yourself in with me, Sirius."

"I've sat with you before through the Change. I'll do it again. I can always transform if I have to."

"No…" Lupin struggled to sit up, and Sirius was freshly alarmed by how bad he looked. Pale and sweating, Lupin reached up, plucked off his glasses, and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. "I told you, this is different."

"He's right," said a voice behind them, and Sirius jumped, his heart slamming against his ribcage like an inexpertly hit Bludger. He spun around and saw a face pressed against the bars of the cell opposite -

a gray, wrinkled face set with brilliant red eyes like coruscating jewels. The demon, he thought. Apparently it had recovered from having a wardrobe dropped on it. It looked as if it would have liked to reach a hand through the bars, but the wards Sirius had put up prevented it.

"What do you know about it?" he snapped.

"The werewolf is right," said the demon again, grinning maniacally.

"He's being Called. Stay in that cell with him, he'll tear you apart trying to get out."

"Shut up," Sirius told it, and turned back to Lupin, who was lying flat on the bench, his hands over his face. Sirius shuddered. All around him the dungeon was deathly cold, and every shadow contained monsters.

"He's correct?" Harry echoed, glaring at Wormtail. "What do you mean he's correct? And how did you find us?"

Wormtail gave a cold smile. "Us?" he repeated. "That rather presupposes that I was looking for the both of you, doesn't it? And the sad fact is, young Mr. Potter, that I'm quite as surprised to see you as you are to see me. It was Draco I was looking for."

Harry glanced sideways at Draco, who had gone very pale, but didn't look surprised. "How," Draco said, in a tight voice, "did you find me?"

""At first, my Master watched you through that Portkey he gave you.

Then you very unintelligently left it behind, and we lost you briefly.

Fortunately," giggled Wormtail, and held up something in his metal hand that glittered like a tiny point of fire. The Epicyclical Charm.

"Your father was kind enough to offer this to my Master in exchange for-"

"For being splattered all over his cell like a Jackson Pollock painting?" snapped Draco, his voice shaking. "Your Master doesn't drive a very fair bargain, does he?"

"He is eminently fair to those who serve him fairly," said Wormtail coolly.

Draco took a step back. Harry experienced an odd urge to reach out and put a hand on the other boy's shoulder, but didn't, since he knew his hand would go right through Draco — not a sensation he particularly enjoyed. It was very strange to be present and to feel real, and yet not to be able to affect his environment in any way. He wondered if this was what it was like to be a ghost.

"Give me the Charm," said Draco, looking steadily at Wormtail.

Wormtail looked at him steadily, then did something so bizarre that Harry thought at first he was imagining it. Moving slowly and awkwardly, Wormtail got down on his knees on the grass, still looking steadily at Draco as he did so.

Draco glanced sideways at Harry, and Harry heard Draco's voice in his head: What's he doing?

Harry shrugged mentally. (not that hard to imagine if you think about it.) I've no idea.

Maybe he wants to play leapfrog?

Interesting theory, but I'm thinking no.

Harry felt Draco jump beside him, and looked up to see that a blazing circle of fire had suddenly sprung up around them, encircling the three of them inside a ring of burning grass. It didn't look like ordinary fire, either, but blazed bright gold and hurtful like the sun seen through glass. Harry saw Draco wince, and look away.

Wormtail spoke then, and his voice was his voice, but at the same time, it wasn't. "Draco Malfoy," he said, a faint buzzing undercutting his speech. "You are the Heir of Slytherin. The time has come for you to ascend to your proper place, which is yours by right of blood and inheritance. The time has come for you to accept your patrimony."

Draco looked alarmed. I don't have any children. I don't think I have any children. I'd remember something like that.

Patrimony, idiot, not palimony. It means your heritage, your destiny… look, whatever it is, you don't want it. Tell him no.

Draco turned back to Wormtail. "No."

Wormtail glared. The fire blazing all around them made him look frightening; Harry had never found him particularly frightening before. "My Master is prepared to offer you power beyond your wildest imaginings-"

"That's awfully vague," pointed out Draco. "How come it's always

'power beyond your wildest imaginings' and never anything specific, like top-box tickets to the Quidditch World Cup and a yearlong subscription to Playwizard magazine? I mean, how about something I could use?"

"— power over weather," Wormtail continued, glaring as if he disliked being interrupted, "over the minds of other men, over dragons and other Outside Powers…"

Dragons? Draco looked slightly wistful. Power over dragons…

Malfoy!

Oh, all right.

"…Over life and death. He offers you a chance to share the Dark Throne with him and sit at his left hand."

"And all I have to do is what?" Draco snapped, a sharp edge to his voice. "Give up my soul?"

"Oh, no," said Wormtail. "You don't have to give up your soul. What would my Master want with your soul? Souls are useful only to demons, who have none of their own. No, my master wants your cooperation and your loyalty…that's all."

Draco turned to Harry, his arms crossed over his chest, and raised an eyebrow. "I'm just not finding this guy believable, Potter," he said. "Why do you think that is?"

Harry shrugged thoughtfully. "Well, he lacks credibility."

Draco turned back to Wormtail and smiled. It was the same creepy smile that had spooked Charlie the night before. Harry couldn't have known that, but he felt the back of his neck prickle as if something cold had touched him. "I'd have to say I agree with Potter," he said, his tone unpleasant. "I suggest you leave…and don't forget to let the door hit you in the ass on the way out of town. Of course, with a target that size…"