Кассандра Клэр - Draco Dormiens

Through a crack in the bricks, Harry saw Lucius Malfoy enter the room, followed by the Death Eaters and Narcissa. He looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, angrier than Harry would have thought possible. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the disarrayed rug and the exposed trap door. Then his gaze fell on the portrait.

"Mona," he said. "Who did this? Who committed this outrage?"

Harry braced himself.

"A boy," said the woman in the portrait. "A boy unknown to me."

"Not — Draco?" said Narcissa. Her expression was as set and angry as her husband's, but her eyes were darting wildly around the room, giving her a weird, almost schizophrenic look. Harry stared.

"The intruder had no Malfoy blood in him," said the portrait.

"Did he enter the dungeons?" asked Lucius.

"No," said the portrait, "He fled when I screamed."

"And where did he go?"

There was a pause. Then the portrait said, "I do not see. I only sense. I do not know where he went."

"Then you have failed in your guardianship," said Lucius in a freezing voice, and raised his wand. "Incendium!" he shouted.

The woman in the portrait screamed once as green flames consumed her. Then a fine drift of ash sifted to the floor.

"Lucius-" Narcissa began, but Lucius spun and glared at her. Her expression didn't change, but she turned and left the room.

One of the Death Eaters cleared his throat. "My, look at the time," he said. "Lucius, thanks for a lovely evening, regards to Narcissa." And he Disapparated.

One by one, the other Death Eaters Disapparated as well, until Lucius was left standing alone with Eleftheria Parpis. "Now, now, Lucius," she said soothingly, "It was probably just the portrait making a fuss over nothing, they do that sometimes when you ignore them. I'm sure there was no one in the house." Lucius seemed unmoved by this argument; he was still eyeing the exposed trap door. "Anyway," Eleftheria added, "at least we're alone now."

She sidled up to Lucius who, to Harry's astonishment, took her in his arms and kissed her neck. Harry was then treated to the most disgusting ten minutes of his life as Lucius Malfoy and Eleftheria snogged passionately on the loveseat. He screwed his eyes shut, but could still hear them at it; he couldn't even stick his fingers in his ears since he needed his hands to brace himself.

"Master Malfoy," said a soft voice in his ear.

Harry opened his eyes a crack and saw Anton floating suspended before him, looking tranquil. He seemed not in the least astonished to find the heir of Malfoy Manor hanging halfway up a chimney flue by his fingernails.

"Master Malfoy, might I suggest that you climb a bit higher up the flue? You will find yourself in a disused second-floor bedroom, if I am not much mistaken."

Harry nodded his thanks and began to climb. It took him about three minutes to reach the empty fireplace; he clambered through and rolled out onto a bare stone floor, coughing and retching on soot.

Draco blinked and saw Hermione staring at him with her mouth open. "What happened?" she said. "You said "'Harry, you stupid prat'," and then you shouted "T'he fireplace!'" "Did I?" said Draco, who had an odd little smile on his face.

"Did Harry fall into a fireplace?" asked Hermione. "And don't smile like that, you look like a mental patient."

"I'm not sure what happened," said Draco, "I don't see what he's seeing you know, I just get little flashes, like if he'd feeling something particularly strongly."

"So it's not like watching a movie?" asked Hermione.

"I wouldn't know, would I?" replied Draco. "I've never seen a movie."

The train started to slow down. They were pulling into a Muggle station. Looking out the window, Hermione saw a group of teenagers sitting on a bench under the florescent lights. They looked like they were returning home after some party; they were laughing and joking with each other. One of them was a tall boy with dark, untidy hair and glasses. He really didn't resemble Harry all that much, but Hermione found her throat tightening anyway.

"Is he okay?" she said, not looking at Draco.

"If he dies suddenly," said Draco, "I'll let you know."

After sneaking out of the second-floor room, Harry went to take a shower, since he was black with soot from head to toe. Then he put on Draco's pyjamas (they had fire trucks on them) and returned to his bedroom, where he found Lucius and Narcissa waiting for him.

"Boy," said Lucius the moment Harry walked in. "Where have you been?"

"I went to take a shower, Father," said Harry, who was quite glad he had left his soot-covered wet towel in the bathroom.

"Come here," said Lucius, and Harry very warily approached him. As soon as he got within grabbing distance, Lucius grabbed him by the arms and stared furiously into his face. "I'm not stupid, boy," he said with cold menace. "You've been acting peculiarly and I want to know the reason. Going into the topiary garden!" he snapped. Harry looked over at Narcissa, who looked away. "Not knowing about the family dress robes! Asking to be excused from one of MY dinners!" he shouted. "And if I even thought you had anything to do with that fiasco after dinner…"

"What your father is trying to say, Draco," said Narcissa, twisting her hands in her skirt, "is….are you taking drugs?"

Harry's mouth fell open.

"Because you can talk to us about it, if you are," she went on hurriedly. "We're, um, here to listen."

Harry looked from Narcissa, whose eyes were darting around the room again, to Lucius, whose face was so contorted with rage that it looked like a carnival mask.

"Nope," he said. "Not on drugs. Sorry!"

"Then-" Narcissa looked over at Lucius uncertainly.

"Your mother," said Lucius, who was now smiling a very unpleasant smile, "is worried that you're going mad, young Draco. There is of course madness in our family, as we descend in nearly a direct line from Uric the Oddball, but I confess I hadn't thought about it popping up in you. Now that she mentions it, however…"

"I am NOT mad," said Harry shortly. "I got a bad bump on the head yesterday, that's all. Honestly! It's not like I've started talking to myself."

"Not yet," said Lucius shortly. Then he bent close to Harry's ear and hissed, "I sometimes ask myself what I did wrong, to be cursed with a idiot child instead of the heir I should have had."

Harry's irritation boiled over. "Come on!" he snapped. " Murder, torture, masses of Dark magic, what haven't you done wrong? You're just lucky you didn't get a son who had three heads. You must have the worst karma of anyone I've ever met!"

Lucius stared at him. Narcissa gave a little squeak.

"You must be mad, to speak to me in that manner," said Lucius. "Or perhaps you're just trying to show your mettle." He smiled, showing his sharp even teeth.

"I admire that. I will not punish you."

Narcissa's shoulders sagged in relief and she turned away to hide her expression.

As soon as she did, Lucius bent and whispered in Harry's ear: "If you put one toe out of line after this, my boy, it's St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies for you. They can toss you in with the Longbottoms and you can spend the rest of your life strapped to a bed, frothing at the mouth."

This mention of Neville's parents made Harry so angry he might well have forgotten himself and belted Lucius in the eye if the bedroom door hadn't opened at that moment, admitting two men in travelling cloaks. One of them was Angus McNair. The other was a short man in a dark green cloak, the hood pulled low over his eyes. From one sleeve of the cloak protruded a black-gloved hand; from the other, a shimmering hand made entirely of silver metal.

Wormtail.

"Sorry to barge in," said McNair, pushing back his hood. "Anton told us you were up here."