Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"Well, let me ask you something then."

"What?"

"Do you feel like killing me right now?"

"Erm. Well. No, actually."

Harry shrugged. "There you go." He propped the sword against the wall, reached over, picked a glass of water up off the bedside table, and shoved it at Draco. "Here. Drink this. And quit bellyaching."

Draco sat up to take the water, and glanced down at himself. He appeared to be clad in a pair of maroon pajamas. Weasley hand-me-downs, he thought glumly. Maroon was a color that looked only slightly less noxious on him than pink. "How long have I been asleep, anyway? And who decided your hideous visage should be the first thing I saw when I woke up?"

"You mean how long have you been passed out?" replied Harry.

"About sixteen hours. And we've been taking turns watching you."

Draco looked at him with deep suspicion. "Who put these pajamas on me?"

"Ron did. Oh, and he gave you a sponge bath. He's become very attached to you. It's really kind of cute."

Draco sprayed water all over the bed. "Whaaaat?"

"Just kidding," said Harry brightly. "Fear not, Ron still hates you with a fiery passion. And your mum put those pajamas on you. She sat with you here all night and all morning, but she had to go back to the Ministry this afternoon. She sent you love and kisses, which I will refrain from personally delivering."

"Good," said Draco, giving Harry a very dark look. "You're disgustingly cheerful this morning, Potter. What's got into you?"

Harry leaned back in his chair and grinned at Draco. Draco thought he hadn't seen Harry look nearly this cheerful in weeks. It was slightly unbalancing. He had become used to Harry with either a permanent scowl or a permanent worried look. "Well, Malfoy, it's about that love potion."

Draco felt himself flush slightly. He reached over and put the glass down on the bedside table with a thump. "Oh. Yes?"

"Did you know it was irreversible except by death?"

"No. And?"

"Well, you died."

"So I did." Draco blinked in amazement. "I did," he said again, trying to get his mind around how he felt about this new development.

Harry was silent. He was a bit like Sirius in that respect, Draco thought. He knew when to talk and when to be quiet.

"Can I talk to her, then?" said Draco, finally.

"Hermione? Uh, yeah," said Harry, with only a trace of hesitation.

"Why not? Oh," he reached behind him, and lifted a brown paper-wrapped parcel off the bedside table. "I almost forgot. You got an owl."

"Really? From who?"

"From Snape," said Harry, handing over the package as if it were a bomb about to go off. "Malfoy, why is Snape sending you care packages?"

"I was staying with him. Long story." Draco tore at the twine that held the package closed, but his fingers still wouldn't quite do what he wanted.

Here.

Draco glanced up as Harry took something out of his pocket and tossed it to him. He caught it reflexively. It was Sirius' penknife, the one that had made the scar on Draco's hand. And the matching one on Harry's.

Thanks.

He flicked open the blade and sliced the package open. A flask full of asphalt-colored liquid and a folded note fell out onto his lap. He shoved the note in the breast pocket of his pajamas, twisted off the lid of the flask, and drank the fluid down, grimacing only slightly at the now-familiar taste of the Will-Strengthening potion.

Harry was looking at him as if he expected him to suddenly sprout beetles out of his ears. "I can't believe you just drank that. Did you know what it was? It could have been poison. You stayed with Snape?"

Draco dropped the penknife on the bedside table and shrugged.

"The difference between us, Potter — well, one of the many differences between us — is that Snape likes me. He would not send me poison. And yes, he let me stay with him. Sort of. I kind of left without telling him where I was going."

"Color me astonished. That's so unlike you, Malfoy."

"Quit with the guilt already. I got enough of that from Sirius. Look, I still think I did the right thing."

"The right thing? Malfoy, you died. I think the words 'I told you so' are a tad redundant at this juncture."

"Oh, very funny."

"I just thought that we were-"

"What? Friends? We're not friends."

"I was going to say 'in this together' but fine, have it your way."

Draco blinked at Harry. Was it his imagination, or did Harry look very slightly as if his feelings had been hurt? So what? he thought to himself, and then, more contritely, well…

"We can't be in anything together," he pointed out, slightly less disagreeably. "First time I saw you yesterday, I stabbed you. I think that about rules out some kind of Batman and Robin type relationship."

"Look, Malfoy, my point was not that you should have hung around long enough to give into your homicidal urges regarding me. My point was that you should have let us in on your little plan. Do you think Sirius would have prevented you from asking Snape for help?

He'd have written to him for you, pulled all his Ministry strings; Lupin could have given you Willpower charms…"

"Or they could have wound up chaining me up in the dungeon with the torture instruments." Like my father would have done.

"You just don't know who to trust, do you?"

"I don't trust myself," said Draco shortly. "That's the point."

" Well, I trust you," said Harry, scowled, and looked as if he were about to add "so there", but was restraining himself.

"And that's a stupid thing to do," said Draco flatly.

"I'm not the one who does stupid things. That's your department."

Draco crossed his arms and glared at Harry. "I do not do stupid things."

"Oh, I don't know. First you insist on keeping an object you know perfectly well is a Talisman of Purest Evil. Then you don't tell anyone that the sword is giving you nightmares or that it's telling you to kill your friends. Then you tell off Lupin when he's trying to help you, snap at Sirius, and go stomping off into the night with your demon sword and try to feed yourself to a large and angry group of dragons. What were you planning on doing for an encore?

Standing on a hilltop during a lightning storm wearing a wet suit of armor and yelling 'All gods are bastards!' at the top of your lungs?"

Draco burst out laughing and the angry tension between them, which had been spiraling upwards rapidly, broke.

Harry smiled grudgingly.

"That was actually pretty funny, Potter. And here I always thought you had the sense of humor of a wet bowl of tapioca."

"So you admit you can be wrong."

Draco looked at Harry.

Harry looked back with steady unwavering green eyes.

"Okay," said Draco. "Sometimes I'm wrong. Of course," he added, "about as often as the sky turns green and the Earth starts revolving backwards, but, you know…"

"I'll take that as a full admission of guilt, apology included. Now, it's your turn to do something for me."

"Oh yeah? What?'

"Tell me something about Snape," said Harry, rather unexpectedly.

"Something…bad. So that when he's glaring at me in Potions with his greasy little eyes, I can think to myself, "right, mate, go ahead and glare, but I know that you're actually a pool shark down at the Three Broomsticks where you make everyone call you 'Jimbo.' "

Draco spluttered with laughter. "Potter! You sound like me!"

"Not at all. Come on, Malfoy, spill. You were in his house. You must know something. Does he torture small animals? Does he keep pictures of Professor McGonagall under his pillow? Does he dress up like a woman when nobody's around?"

Draco grinned. "Snape? A transvestite? With that nose?"

"Come on, Malfoy, there's gotta be something."

"Well," Draco allowed, "I did hear him singing "Hooked On A Feeling" in the shower."