Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

The spirit of Lily Potter turned away from him, and buried her insubstantial face in her husband's insubstantial chest. Feeling as if he had said atrociously the wrong thing, Draco looked fearfully at James, who looked back at him, wavering and half-transparent, and put an arm around his crying wife. "You're a friend of his," he said.

"Aren't you?"

"Sometimes," admitted Draco. "I'm sorry," he added, not exactly sure if he was apologizing, or simply expressing sorrow.

"Don't be," said James. "I understand."

And Draco rather thought that James did understand.

"You're fading," James went on, looking at Draco closely. "Someone is calling you back."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"No. It's a good thing. You can take a message with you."

"I can tell Harry that you-"

"No. Don't tell Harry you saw us. It will just cause him pain. There's a man called Sirius Black; he's Harry's godfather, you might have seen him picking up Harry at platform 9 3/4 at the end of term.

Find him. Tell him to go into his vault at Gringott's and take from it what I gave him just before I died, and give it to Harry. I never told him it was for Harry, but it is. Harry is the Heir of Gryffindor, he'll be needing it soon. And tell Sirius that I-" and then the ground jerked under Draco's feet and a soft implosion sent the world flying at his face like hurtling glass. He would have thrown his arms up to protect himself, but a tearing pain ripped through his chest, doubling him over, and he was coughing, coughing in great wrenching, shattering gasps, coughing and spitting water all over the wet dark grass of the Weasleys' back garden.

He blinked his eyes open. He was lying on his back, on the grass, under a black sky. Harry was hunched down by his shoulder, Ron beside him, very pale under his freckles, with the back of his wrist pressed against his mouth as if he were trying to keep himself from yelling or being sick. And on his other side was Ginny, with enormous eyes, who looked a degree worse than her brother — not just pale but with tear streaks on top of that.

Draco took a breath. He could hear his chest gurgling like a leaky radiator, and it hurt to breathe, but otherwise…

"You're alive," said Ginny, looking and sounding amazed. She turned to her brother. "Ron! You did it!"

"Mmppph," said Ron, still goggling at Draco as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

What's going on? Draco tried to say, but discovered that taking in the air that would allow him to talk made his chest hurt even more.

He concentrated on breathing shallowly, and flicked his eyes towards Harry.

Hey, Potter…

Harry leaned forward so quickly that one of his insubstantial hands went through Draco's chest. Draco glared at him.

Harry looked contrite. Sorry.

Never mind. What happened?

You drowned. Ron revived you.

He did what? How?

Harry grinned. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, Malfoy.

What? Draco's eyes flicked over to Ron, widening. "Oh my God, how disgusting," he said, out loud, before he could help it. This sent him off into another spasm of coughing. When he recovered, he saw Ron glaring at him.

"Well, it was no picnic for me, either, you ungrateful git," he said.

"At least you were dead for most of the experience. Now I just wish I was."

Draco coughed again. He had begun to feel as if he were coughing up his own lungs. He put a hand to his chest and sat up, which seemed to ease the pressure under his ribcage.

"Can you breathe properly?" asked Ginny anxiously, scooting up next to him, and putting a hand to his forehead. "You're still freezing." She brought her hand back, wet with water and blood from his cut cheek.

"I am freezing," Draco said, and reached to take his jacket off, but his fingers wouldn't obey him. He couldn't seem to make them work properly; they fumbled at the wet dragonhide leather, and let go.

"Let me," said Ginny, and helped him off with the jacket. She turned to her brother. "Ron, give me your pajama top."

Ron glared at her.

"Fine," she snapped. "either that, or I'll give him my pajama top."

"I'll take option number two," said Draco, through chattering teeth.

Ron sighed, and took his top off. He tossed it to Ginny, who proceeded to use it to dry Draco's hair. "We need to get you out of these wet clothes," she said.

At that, another coughing spasm doubled Draco over, and when he straightened up, it took him several moments to properly focus his eyes. For a moment, he couldn't tell Ron from Ginny, they both looked like wavery blobs, with Harry a darker sort of blob off to the right, which was disturbing to say the least. "Bugger," he said, and his voice sounded like a bubbling water cooler. "I can't see properly."

He was vaguely aware of the Ron-blob looking with alarm at the Ginny-blob, and then there was a soft *pop * as someone Apparated into the garden.

"Sirius," Draco heard Ron mutter under his breath, sounding relieved. "Thank God."

There was a thump and Sirius dropped down on his knees next on the grass next to Draco, who had begun shivering again, and with every shiver his vision blackened further. I won't faint, he thought crossly. I won't. He felt Sirius' fingers on his neck, checking his pulse, then a hand against his forehead, reminding him of his mother checking for fever.

"Hypothermic shock," he heard Sirius say calmly, "He'll be fine if we get him inside." Draco saw a blur as he turned. "Harry, I'm sending you back."

Draco heard Harry's voice from a distance. "All right," and then there was a gasp from Ron. Draco presumed this meant that Harry had vanished. Either that, or the spell had gone horribly awry and turned Harry into a newt. Either way, Draco wasn't sure he could get too worked up about it. Everything seemed as if it were being filtered down from a long way away. He felt Sirius' hand on his wrist, and then Ron's voice saying something about lung damage, and Ginny asking if he'd be all right.

"He'll be all right. I can fix him up if we get him inside." Sirius bent down to Draco. "I'm going to lift you up now. Brace yourself, all right?"

Draco nodded, and felt Sirius' hand slide under his back, the other under his knees, picking him up. He did not remember ever having been carried like that before, not by his father anyway, and was surprised to find he didn't mind it too much. He threw an arm around Sirius' neck, looked sideways, saw Ginny's white and worried face, the moon behind her, and then all the shapes of the world ran together like watercolor and Draco did something he had always sworn he would never do, and fainted.

Wham.

Harry opened his eyes, feeling somewhat as if he had been struck head-on by the Hogwarts Express train and thrown about fifty feet into a patch of nettles. He blinked, focusing his eyes, and saw that he was back the armchair in the Malfoy family library, staring up at the ceiling, which was traced with a design of the constellations picked out in gold leaf.

It took him several tries, but he managed to sit up and flex his fingers. His whole body stung with pins and needles. He became aware of being watched, and turned his head sideways to see Hermione kneeling by the arm of his chair, looking at him with huge eyes.

"Hey," he said.

"You're all right," she said, and it was both a question and a statement.

He nodded.

"I never should have sent you through," she said colorlessly. "I never should have. I can't believe I did anything so stupid."

"Hermione — "

"I keep telling myself it wasn't really me," she went on in the same colorless voice. "I haven't been me for the last week or so. I would never have done anything so idiotic. It's my job to keep you from doing stupid things, not aid you and abet you. What if something had happened to you, it would have been my fault and that would have killed me, Harry, it would have killed me."