Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"Ron," said Charlie warningly, flapping his apron.

"Sorry." Ron put the milk down, and turned to face Harry, Ginny and Hermione who were staring at him with identical expressions of rabid curiosity. "What?"

"Did he apologize?" Harry demanded.

"Not in so many words. He made a speech, I threw a knife at him, I started teaching him to play chess, then he fell asleep in the middle of our second game and knocked all the pawns over."

They all blinked at him. "You're joking about the knife, of course," said Harry, finally.

"Maybe," said Ron, with a half-smile. He reached into his pocket and took out the pocketknife, and tossed it to Harry, who caught it out of the air and looked at it with a bemused expression.

"So, Draco isn't such an awful git as he used to be, is he?" asked Hermione triumphantly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "No. He's still an awful git. Now, he's just an awful git who owes me thirty Galleons."

"You played chess with him for money?"

Ron wasn't listening. "If you fall asleep in the middle of a game, is that a forfeit?"

Charlie looked up. "He's asleep? Isn't someone supposed to be sitting with him?"

"I am not," said Ron firmly, "going to sit around and watch Malfoy sleep. Anyway, he woke up for a second and said 'get out of here, Weasley, you gimp'. I don't think he wants me watching him sleep either."

Ginny glanced up. "I'll go up and check on him. Besides, he hasn't eaten anything since yesterday, I'll see if he wants any lunch."

She vanished, brushing cellar dust hastily off her jeans as she went.

Ron looked after her and shook his head.

And he dreamed.

He walked a narrow and sparkling bridge between darkness and greater darkness. At each side the path fell away steeply, so steeply he could not see the bottom of the vast abyss he crossed, nor its farthest end.

At the center of the bridge a man was standing. When he reached him, Draco saw without surprise that the man had his own face, a few years older perhaps, but no more than a few. He could have been his twin: slender, with silver hair, his eyes like pale jewels containing neither passion nor compassion.

Draco groaned and covered his face with his hands. "I thought I had gotten rid of you."

The other smiled at him. "I almost lost you, it's true. I thought I might have to follow you down to the Gray Places, but you came back."

Draco found the words he wanted to say without searching for them. "Why does it have to be me?" he said. "There are others with your blood, others like you."

"Perhaps, but there are no others like you."

"There is nothing special about me."

"That's a defeatist attitude, boy," said the other, mouth stretching into a malevolent smile. "Not surprisingly, you echo the darkness in your own soul."

Draco voice came out on a wail. " What do I have to do to be rid of you?"

"Try to destroy me if you like. You will accomplish nothing more than your own destruction."

"I don't believe it." Draco lifted the sword in his hand — in this other world, in was feather-light — and swung it toward the man who faced him, swung it straight and true, meaning to slice him in half.

The sword flew, connected -

There was the sound of shattering glass. Draco jumped back as the shards of the mirror he had been facing fell around him like snow.

He bolted upright in bed, hearing his own harsh gasps for air as if they came from somewhere else. There was a tearing pain in his chest and he pressed his fist against it, feeling it ebb slowly. His pajamas were drenched in sweat, sticking to him uncomfortably. He swung his legs over the bed, peeling off his pajama top, and his eyes caught a glimpse of a flash of light across the room -

The sword, propped against the wall where Harry had left it. The light reflecting off the blade had a reddish tinge.

Draco closed his eyes. That feeling was back, the feeling of having slept without resting, awakening more tired than he had been when he lay down. He wondered if he should write to Snape and ask for more Wakefulness potion to go along with the will-strengthening potion, but at the moment he didn't have the energy. He felt overwhelmed by despair, and more than that, by a rising anger.

And he was still exhausted.

He lay back down on the bed, pulled the covers up over his head, and fell back into nightmares.

Ginny closed the door of Percy's bedroom quietly behind her and blinked to adjust her eyes. It was nearly twilight now, and the room was dim, lit only by a single fringe-shaded bedside lamp. She could make out the shapes of the furniture, the bed, and the huddled outline of Draco's sleeping form under the covers.

Quietly, she walked up to the bed. "Draco," she said softly. "Hey.

Wake up."

Draco didn't respond. She tilted her head, looking at him, her vision adjusted to the half-light now. He lay asleep on his side, shirtless, sheets tangled around his waist. His head was pillowed on his fist, his other arm under the blankets. She could see where his very light summer tan ended at the base of his throat, the faint line of the scar under his eye where the shards of Harry's broken ink bottle had cut him. Most people looked different when they were asleep, she thought, younger, gentler, undefended, but Draco just looked the way he always did: contained, and guarded.

She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, meaning to shake him awake. His reaction was immediate. His hand shot out so quickly she barely had time to react; he seized her arm, yanked her down on the bed, and rolled over on top of her, his arm across her throat, his other hand drawn back as if he meant to hit her. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed, glaring down at her.

"Ow!" Ginny yelled indignantly. "Ow! You bastard, get your elbow out of my throat!"

Draco froze, and lowered his arm, blinking. It was the most surprised she had ever seen him look. "Oh, I…thought you were someone else."

"Who? Voldemort? Get off me, you twit," Ginny snapped, startled to wriggle out from under him, realized something, and paused. "I, uh.."

"What?"

Ginny found herself stammering. "I, uh, just came to see if you wanted any food. It's nearly tea-time, you know. Charlie made food.

It's pretty good. And, uh, we thought you might want some food.

Did I say that already? I, uh, I could bring you up some, or you could come down if you feel up to it."

Draco paused for a moment, and a faint smile flitted across his face.

"I feel up to it," he said blandly.

"Right. Well, then, you'd better get off me so I can stand up."

Draco hesitated for a split second, smiled, and rolled off her. Ginny stood up, rather unnecessarily straightening her shirt, and, without looking at him, said, "Shall I tell them you'll be down in a few minutes?"

"Sure. Why don't you do that."

"Okay. And about the nudity thing…"

"I'll put some clothes on before I go downstairs."

"That'd be a good idea."

There was a short pause. He looked at her inquiringly.

"Right, then," she said. "I'll just go…away."

"See you," said Draco cheerfully, and Ginny ran for the door, bolted out into the hall, and slammed it behind her. He's laughing at me, she raged inwardly, starting off down the hallway. He's the one without any clothes on, and I get laughed at. It's not fair. She kicked out at the railing when she got to the stairs and was rewarded by feeling the wood splinter slightly under her foot. Take that, Draco Malfoy, she thought, you obnoxious, smirking, naked sort of person.

She was halfway down the stairs when she heard the front door bang open.

Sunset came in shades of rose and sapphire and turned the sky over the Burrow into a mosaic of color. Sirius, however, was in no mood to admire the sky. He had arranged to meet Narcissa some distance from the Weasleys' so that they could talk privately for a few moments. When he Apparated into the middle of the darkening grove of trees, Narcissa was already there. She came towards him, her hair very silver in the half-light, twilight caught in the folds of her dark-red robes. She tilted her face up; he kissed her, and said, "Everything all right?"