Кассандра Клэр - Draco Dormiens

"Draco?" she said. "Are you in here?"

There was no response, but Hermione thought she sensed a guilty sort of silence emanating from a spot near the wardrobe.

"I know you're here!" she said. "I need to get dressed!"

"Go right ahead," said Draco's voice, in rather muffled tones. "I don't mind."

"Malfoy," she said threateningly.

"Oh, all right," said Draco, and he suddenly appeared next to the wardrobe, holding the cloak in one hand and grinning all over his face. "You almost-" "I did not almost," said Hermione. "Now turn around and face the wall!"

Grumbling, he did it. Keeping a sharp eye on him, Hermione wiggled out of her jeans and t-shirt and into the dress. The material was very rich and heavy and doubtless expensive. It felt cold against her skin and she did up the laces and bent to strap on the shoes. Finally she straightened up and shook out her hair. "Done," she said.

Draco turned around. He looked utterly startled. "Hermione," he said. "You look beautiful."

"Do I?" she said, astonished.

"Go look in the mirror," he said, gesturing towards the vanity table next to the bed.

Hermione went up to it and looked at herself. And blushed. She had never understood how girls like Lavender and Parvati could spend so much money on clothes, but now she did. Money was no object if a dress could make you look like this. The beautiful heavy fabric reflected the light like water and the deep violet shade suited her brunette coloring perfectly (although, she thought, it in no way would have suited the real Mandy Brocklehurst, who was wispily blonde.) The dress clung in all the right places and fitted so well Hermione had to wonder if it was enchanted to fit. Not that she cared. She twirled in front of the mirror and watched the skirt flare out.

"Wow," she said.

Draco was sitting on the bed watching her. She could see him reflected in the mirror. She sat down at the vanity table, took a brush of out Narcissa's box and started running it through her hair. She could still see Draco in the mirror behind her, leaning against a bedpost.

"You should be a Beater, not a Seeker," she said. "You have a really good throwing arm."

Draco snorted with laughter. "I can't believe I hit my father in the head with a candlestick."

"I was really glad you were there."

"Were you?" said Draco. He was trying to sound nonchalant, but his left hand was tapping his wand anxiously against the side of his leg. "I saw that Harry kissed you. I thought you'd be pleased…."

"He was just showing your father that he had, you know, a claim on Mandy," said Hermione quietly.

"Didn't work, did it?" said Draco, tapping the wand faster.

"Draco…" She turned around and reached out for him.

He brushed her hand away. "It's all right. I know he's a bastard, my father."

She felt desperately sorry for him, but couldn't think of anything to say.

They was silent for a moment. Then he said, "D'you think…when we get back to school…we'll be friends still, like we are now?"

"When we take the spell off you, you won't even want to be," she said.

Draco looked unconvinced by this. "Well, suppose I do," he said. "You're not under a spell. What do you think?"

"Draco, there's hardly any school left. It's June."

Draco become deeply interested in his shoelace. "Maybe I could come and see you over the summer, then."

Hermione dropped her brush. "What?"

"If you're not doing anything," he said quickly.

"What?" she said again.

Now he looked irritated — a bit of the old Draco flashed in his eyes, Entitlement Boy as Parvati used to call him. "Are you saying you don't want me to come?"

A sudden wild image appeared in Hermione's head, of Draco sitting at her dining room table in between her fat Aunt Matilda and her deaf Great-Uncle Stuart, both of whom had been accountants. They were trying to engage Draco in coversation about Wimbledon, and Draco, looking very out of place in long black robes and a top hat, was having none of it. Eventually he took out his wand and turned everyone at the table into toads.

The wild image passed, and Hermione said, "Draco! You'll hate them! They're all Muggles!"

"Might be all right," he said stiffly. "I've got really good manners."

An equally vivid image came to her of Draco with her family on their annual beach holiday in Brighton. Draco was wearing swimming trunks (did he own swimming trunks? Did he even have knees? — she had never seen them) and haughtily refusing her mother's offer of an ice pop. "Come on, you'll like it," said Hermione's mother. Draco took out his wand and turned her into a toad.

You're going mad, Hermione, she told herself. She swiveled around in her chair and looked at Draco.

"Look," she said. "If we get back to school and you still want to come see me over the summer, then yes, you can."

He brightened. "Really?"

"Uh, yes," said Hermione, thinking that come September, her whole family would likely be hopping around on lily pads.

"Has Harry come to visit you over the summer?" said Draco neutrally.

"Yes," said Hermione, "but he's quite used to Muggles and my parents really love him, so…" she trailed off at Draco's expression. "Would you leave me alone about Harry?" she snapped. "He's my best friend and if that is some kind of problem for you…"

"That wasn't a very best-friendly kiss he gave you in the study," snapped Draco.

"I told you! He was just making a point to your father!"

"You go on and tell yourself that, Hermione," said Draco. "But I bet you liked it.

Didn't you?"

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy."

"Didn't you?"

She threw her brush down on the table with a clatter. "Yes! I did!"

"You better make your mind up, Hermione," he said with a burst of sharp anger.

"We're wizards, you know, not Mormons."

"I'll keep that I mind if I decide to marry either one of you."

They glowered at each other.

"You know what I mean," he said darkly.

"Maybe I don't know," said Hermione, rather unkindly. "Maybe you should spell it out."

Draco just glared at her and she glared back. She had always thought that only Harry could thoroughly exasperate her like this, but apparently that wasn't the case.

"I'm not your girlfriend," she said waspishly. "And I'm not Harry's girlfriend either. And may I point out that NEITHER OF YOU has indicated they even want to be my boyfriend. So if I want to…to run off with…Neville Longbottom, that's MY business and not either of yours."

Draco stopped glaring and snorted with laughter. "Do you really want to run off with Neville Longbottom? Because Hermione Longbottom is a terrible name."

Hermione felt her mouth twitch into a reluctant smile. Draco was leaning on the back of her chair now. Their two faces were reflected in the mirror, side by side.

His dark hair was sticking out in every direction, it looked like he couldn't control it any better than Harry could. We look so good together, she thought, and then felt a bubble of guilty confusion travel up from her stomach and pop inside her chest. Get a grip, she told herself, and started rummaging in Narcissa's cosmetics box.

There was a knock on the bedroom door; it opened, and Harry came in. She couldn't believe how tired he looked. There were black circles under his eyes and he looked even paler than Draco usually did. But he smiled when he saw her.

"Hey," he said.

"Harry," she said, "You're all right?"

"For now," he replied. "You?"

"I'm fine," she said, and stood up.

The result of this was somewhat unexpected. Harry looked as if a very heavy weight of some sort had fallen on his head. He literally took a step back, and stared. "Hermione," he said, sounding a lot like Draco had, "you….look…."

"Yes?" she said.

But Harry didn't appear to have anything else to say. He just stared.