Кассандра Клэр - Draco Dormiens

"Narcissa," said Sirius meditatively. "Now there's a mystery."

"What?"

"Narcissa Hardesty," said Sirius, "was the most beautiful girl in her year at Hogwarts. She was two years older than James and Lily and the rest of us, she was a very good student, and she was very popular. And then, in her last year, she got engaged to the slimy git, Lucius Malfoy. No one could understand it. It was the mystery of the year, she'd never been able to stand him before, and he was much older than she was."

Harry gave Sirius a hard look. It was difficult to tell under all the mud and blood and grime, but he thought Sirius was looking a mite shifty.

"Did you fancy her, Sirius?" he demanded.

"I might have," Sirius admitted. "I knew her quite well, Harry. She was a good person, I would have bet anything on that — but then I would have said the same about Peter, and look what happened with him."

"So are you saying I should — " Harry began, but Sirius interrupted him.

"Just keep an eye on her, Harry, that's all I'm saying."

"Forget her, Sirius," said Harry, "the whole point is that we need to get you out of here."

Sirius shook his head. "Not now," he said. "Malfoy will be back any second."

"I know that," said Harry. "I was thinking of coming back down here later tonight.

I've got my dad's cloak in my bag upstairs. It'll fit over all of us. I'd leave Draco behind," he added darkly, "but I need him to open the doors. They only open for Malfoys."

Sirius raised his right hand to run it through his hair then, and Harry saw that his left wrist was shackled to the bench on which he sat. "Harry," he said. "I know you don't like the Malfoy boy, but be sure he wears the invisibility cloak, okay?

Because if they catch him, they'll think he's you. And that'll be the end of him."

Harry's throat was dry. "They're planning on killing me, aren't they, Sirius?"

"Worse," Sirius said grimly. "I heard McNair and Wormtail talking about it on the way here. Their plan was to try to use me to lure you to Malfoy Manor, and when they trapped you, to summon Voldemort. He wants to use the Lacertus Curse on you-" Sirius broke off. The unmistakable sound of the dungeon gate creaking open was plainly audible through the walls. Harry backed away from the bars, and stood with his wand out as Lucius, McNair, and Wormtail came into the dungeon.

They ignored Sirius. Lucius nodded once, curtly, at Draco. "Stay here, boy," he said. "I want you to watch this."

Harry tightened his hands into fists. He knew they weren't going to hurt Sirius — a dead hostage was no hostage — but he didn't like the sound of this.

Lucius had taken out his wand and was holding it in front of him. McNair took out his own wand, and touched the tip to Lucius'; then Wormtail raised his hand and put it on top of both wands. "Dominus vocare," he said in his hissing, squeaky voice.

A jet of green light flowed from the wands' tips, and from Wormtail's hand. It coalesced into the shape of a head and a pair of shoulders. The face was blurred and indistinct, but Harry knew it at once-there was no other face like it, flat and evil, with slitted cat eyes.

Voldemort.

"Master," said Lucius in an unctuous, ingratiating voice.

"Why have you summoned me?" said the image of Voldemort in a harsh, smoky voice.

"We wished to show you that we have succeeded in capturing Sirius Black," said Wormtail, grinning all over his fat little face. "Do you see him there?"

The image of Voldemort turned its head towards the cell that held Sirius. As it did so, its gaze swept over Harry and he felt the familiar stabbing pain in his forehead. He dug his nails into his palms, but didn't move.

"I see him," said the Voldemort-image. "And the boy Harry Potter? Has he been notified?"

"I sent an owl to his school, Master," said McNair.

"Well then," said Voldemort. "You have done good work. You shall be rewarded," and, as they all smiled, he added sharply, "when you have the boy in your custody, that is."

Their smiles faded slightly. "That will be soon, Master," said Lucius.

But Voldemort was looking at Harry again, and the pain in Harry's forehead was increasing. "Is that your son, Lucius?"

"Yes, it is."

Voldemort's gaze did not waver. "He has the look of you, Lucius," he said finally.

"When he is old enough, you will bring him to me?"

"Of course, Master."

At that, the image of Voldemort vanished. Apparently he was not one for extended good-byes. Which was just as well in Harry's opinion-in another second, he was sure, the pain in his scar would have driven him to his knees.

And yet, he was glad of the pain. At least it meant he was still himself — underneath the disguise, he was still Harry Potter.

Lucius, however, seemed pleased, or as pleased as he ever seemed. He even put a hand on Harry's shoulder as they left the dungeon. Harry twisted around to try to get a glimpse of Sirius as they went through the gate — but Sirius had turned to face the wall, and didn't see him.

Draco had now drunk four butterbeers and Hermione had had four. A short and very giggly fight had broken out over who got to drink the last one. Draco had won. The alcohol content in a single butterbeer was quite low, but having drunk four of them on an empty stomach had made Hermione feel drowsy and lightheaded.

"What if your speccy little boyfriend never comes back?" said Draco gloomily. "It would be very embarrassing for me to die trapped in my own closet."

"Heś not my boyfriend," said Hermione automatically. "And he´ll come back."

Draco looked at her hard over his butterbeer. "Why?" he said.

"Because Harry wouldn´t leave us here to die," said Hermione, startled. "He might be annoyed at me, but he isn´t homicidal, now is he?"

"No," said Draco, "I meant, why isn´t he your boyfriend?"

Hermione discovered she was having a bit of trouble focusing her eyes on Draco.

Of course, it was about four in the morning and she hadn´t slept in twenty hours.

"Because," she said glumly, "he doesn´t like me that way. He said so."

"Stupid git," said Draco, matter-of-factly, "I don´t think he knows what he wants."

"Whatś he feeling now?" asked Hermione, despite herself.

Draco thought for a moment. "Sad," he said.

"You know what I´m really going to miss?" said Hermione, who was feeling an odd drifting sensation now, rather as if she were falling asleep without being tired.

"Being surrounded by all this Armani?" suggested Draco.

"No," said Hermione, "You. Being like this. When we take the spell off you and Harry, you´ll go right back to being nasty and horrible, won´t you?"

"On the plus side," said Draco, trying to sound light, "Harry will probably stop being such a jerk."

"Don´t call him that," said Hermione, but her protest was more automatic than truly felt.

"You know what I´m going to miss?" said Draco, and now he wasn´t looking at her, but staring fixedly at a spot above her head.

"What?"

"Having you for a friend," he said, very quickly. "I mean, even back when you thought I was Harry, it was pretty good… I´ve got friends, you know, like Crabbe and Goyle, but I never get the feeling that they´d die for me. Well, they might die of me, like if I told them to eat poison they probably would, but thatś more stupidity than loyalty, in my opinion." He sighed. "But you´d die for Harry, wouldn´t you?"

"Yeah," said Hermione. "Although I think I might die of him as well," she added, and Draco grinned crookedly. Hermione leaned sideways so that she was now resting the back of her head on his shoulder. He was sitting very still; she could see the line of his profile, looking very serious and familiar in the light from the wand. "I´ll be sorry when you start shaving," she said dreamily (she was quite lightheaded now), "I love that translucent quality your skin has, I always have.