Кассандра Клэр - Draco Dormiens

They were right up against the house now. The shrubbery ended, and a narrow white path wound towards the Manor wall and then alongside. It glowed faintly in the moonlight. A high black tower rose above their heads, spangled with sequins of light where windows broke up the darkness. Draco pointed upward, to a single row of windows glowing with light. "That's my bedroom," he whispered.

"Is Harry in there?" she asked anxiously.

Draco nodded. This was a mistake, for Hermione immediately darted forward onto the glowing path. He reached out to grab her and pull her back, but his hand closed on air. He heard, rather than saw, the small metal gate opening in the base of the tower — he knew what was going to happen, of course he ought to, seeing as how he'd put the attack mechanism in place himself. He swore, ran forward, and pushed Hermione aside, hard.

There was a loud whistling noise that ended in an unpleasant thump, and Hermione heard Draco fall to the ground next to her.

She scrambled to her knees and looked around; the path was empty except for her and Draco, who was sitting on the ground, looking down at himself with an expression of surprise. The shaft of an arrow, about four inches long, was sticking out of the upper part of his thigh. Blood was spreading around the wound, darkening his jeans.

"Blast," said Draco, and then a number of other things, most of them rude.

Hermione didn't blame him,though, there was a lot of blood and it looked like it probably really hurt.

She knelt down by him and put her hand on the arrow's shaft. It was strangely cold to the touch. She felt stupid tears welling up her eyes. "This is all my fault," she stammered. "And I don't have any bandages…although I could tear a piece off Harry's bag…and maybe you need a tourniquet….and oh, Draco, should you take your trousers off?"

Draco was staring at her in disbelief. "Not that I don't appreciate being asked, Hermione," he said, "I mean, some other time, sure, but right now why don't you just think for a minute!" He hissed the last part. "Who's the smartest witch in our class? Who's been taking Advanced-Level Medical Magic classes? Who here can fix my leg in five seconds flat?"

"Oh," she said, "Of course. Sorry!" She fumbled for her wand, pulled it out, and put the point against the torn and bleeding hole in his pants leg. "Asclepio," she said softly, and saw the lines of tension in his body relax as the wound healed, pushing out the shaft of the arrow, which fell aside. She picked up carefully; it was sticky with blood and some kind of gluey, glowing substance. She tossed it into the bushes.

"Thanks," Draco said, feeling his leg gingerly. It seemed to be fine.

"Are you okay?" she said, looking at him anxiously.

"Positively cheerful," he said, reaching up his hand for her to help him to his feet.

"Now I'll have a lovely scar to show my grandchildren."

"Six inches to the left and grandchildren would have been out of the question," said Hermione. "Now there's something to be cheerful about."

Harry was indeed in Draco's bedroom; he didn't have much choice in the matter, in fact, since he was tied to the bed.

It was fortunate, in a way, that Narcissa had fainted when she did, since Harry's desperate attempts to get to Sirius had been interpreted by Lucius and the others as desperate struggles to get to her instead. Otherwise Lucius would most likely have been even more angry when he had tried to prevent Harry from getting past him and Harry, losing his head completely, had hit Lucius in the eye. In a fury, Lucius had thrown a Binding Hex at Harry that had wrapped around his wrists, fastening them to the bedpost. Then Lucius had magicked up a stretcher for Narcissa and stalked out of the room with her, barking at Wormtail and McNair that they should take Sirius down to the dungeons and lock him in.

Harry had been trying to squirm out of the Binding Hex for several hours now, but all he had accomplished was to wriggle partway out of his pajama top so that he was now very cold as well as being very uncomfortable and extremely unhappy at the thought of what might be happening to Sirius in the dungeon at that very moment. This, he thought to himself, could not possibly get any worse.

And then the window exploded.

After a whispered conference, Draco and Hermione had decided to use Lifting Spells to get themselves up to Harry's window. Draco would go first with Hermione performing the spell; if it went well, he would bring her up after him.

"Okay," said Hermione, "here we go. Wingardium leviosa," and she pointed her wand at Draco. He felt himself rising steadily into the air, twisting and turning a little as if he were being pulled up by a string. He saw Hermione crinkle her eyes at him in concern and he gave her a thumbs up. She gestured that he should bring her up as well, so Draco pointed his own wand and at her and whispered the words of the spell.

He was, however, not as good at that particular spell as Hermione was. Instead of rising slowly into the air she rocketed up as if she had been shot out of a cannon, too startled to scream, and crashed headlong into Draco. With nothing to brace himself, he flew backward, slamming into the Manor wall. Hermione, quite terrified, had her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist as they spun wildly in midair.

"Make it stop!" she hissed in his ear.

Draco just shook his head; he was trying to steady his wand. The spell seemed to still be propelling Hermione skyward; even her hair was lifting into the air as she held onto him desperately (she had her hands where no girl had handled him before, but he was in no mood to enjoy it). "Leviosa!" he shouted hysterically, losing his head completely, and they plunged sideways like a hanglider out of control, then flew upward again, rolled over, and shot towards the Manor with the force of a cannonball. Hermione screamed once as they plunged through the window, spraying flying glass everywhere, and crashed to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

For a moment, they just lay there, not moving. Hermione had her face buried in Draco's neck and was breathing in long, unsteady gasps. I really thought we were going to die for a second there, he thought, I guess she did too.

At that moment a voice spoke from above their heads; a very familiar voice.

"What-?" it said. "How-?"

Draco had shut his eyes, so he felt rather than saw Hermione loosen her death-grip on his neck and sit up.

"Oh," he heard her exclaim, sounding dazed, "Harry!"

"W-what?" said Harry. "How?"

Harry knew he should close his mouth, but he didn't seem to be able to.

Hermione, her hair dusted with bits of shattered glass, was staring at him from the floor, and while he was incredibly happy to see her, he was horribly shocked to see that she had not just her arms but her legs wrapped around….Draco Malfoy? A Draco Malfoy looking exactly like Harry in every particular, true, but still Draco Malfoy.

"Oh!" she said, and he thought she sounded rather guilty, "Harry!"

Draco had his arms around Hermione, too. His eyes were open now, and he was looking at Harry with a faintly amused expression that Harry desperately wanted to hit.

"Hello, Harry," he said. "I see you've found my pajamas. Although I usually wear the top bit as well."

Hermione burst into tears. "Harry," she said again, staggered to her feet, and limped over to where he was sitting. "You're alive!"

"I told you he was alive," said Draco, sounding irritated.

Hermione looked like she wanted to throw her arms around Harry, but was discomfited by the fact that he was both shirtless and tied to the bed. "Is that —?"

she asked, pointing at his wrists.