Кассандра Клэр - Draco Dormiens

"What?"

"That's something you said. Our first year, when you were going after the Philosopher's Stone…you said that if you-know-who got you, it would just be dying a little earlier than you would anyway."

They looked at each other. "You think that was me talking?" said Harry uneasily.

Hermione looked extremely unhappy. "I don't know," she said. "I don't want to think so."

"I don´t think it was," said Harry, rather unexpectedly.

Hermione smiled at him. "I hope not," she said, "I already invited him to come visit me over the summer."

Now it was Harry's turn to stop walking. "He'll turn your whole family into toads, Hermione," he said, eerily echoing her own fears.

"He will not," she said obstinately. "My parents will like him. He's got really good manners, and he dresses well and…and he's read Hogwarts: A History."

Harry turned around. Then he came up to Hermione, took her by the arms, and stared intently into her face, something he had never done before. "Do you like him, Hermione? I know you kissed him and all, but do you like him?"

"Yeah," she said, surprising herself. "I do, I really do."

"Do you love him?"

"Harry!"

"Could you love him?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I could!" She tried to yank her arms away, but he held on tightly. "I'm getting really fed up with this whole big-brother thing, Harry," she added sharply. "I'm not twelve, and I'm not an idiot, and it is my business who I want to-" "Hermione," he interrupted her furiously, "you're so stupid."

And he kissed her.

It was nothing like kissing Draco. Kissing Draco was sweet and intoxicating and fun. Kissing Harry was none of those things. It was a little like a bomb going off in her head. She felt herself clutching at Harry as if she might fall otherwise, felt Harry gripping her arms with a force that was painful. She would have bruises, but she didn't care. She couldn't breathe, but she didn't care. There was a rock digging into the small of her back but she didn't care. She could feel Harry's heart beating wildly against hers and that was what mattered; that, and the pressure of his mouth on her and the yearning she felt from him as he kissed her.

It was a shock when he let go of her and stepped back. She saw that his chest was rising and falling rapidly as if he had been running. He continued backing up until he was standing against the opposite wall, staring at her in what looked a lot like horror.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't meant to do that. I'm really sorry."

She was bewildered. "Why? What are you sorry for?"

"This…" He gestured vaguely at her, at himself. "You and me. Things are chaotic enough already. I didn't mean to make the situation even worse."

"Worse?" Hermione stared at him. "Are you saying that kissing me was a bad thing?"

"No! Kissing you…was great," said Harry weakly. Then he straightened up, looking determined. "But I'm still not going to do it again."

"Why not?" said Hermione.

"Because," said Harry. He had taken his knife out of his pocket and was fiddling with it. It still had blood on the blade. "It would be wrong."

"Wrong?" Was he crazy? "Draco was right," she said flatly. "You have gone mad."

"I haven't. I've given this a lot of thought, Hermione, don't think I'm just-" "You don't want to know what I think," she snapped.

"I do," said Harry. He was looking desperately unhappy, but Hermione had no patience left to feel sorry for him. She took two steps forward and grabbed him by the front of his robes.

"Say it," she said.

He refused to look at her. "I can't."

"Say it, Harry."

Now he looked angry and stubborn, as only Harry could be stubborn. "If you're asking me to tell you how I feel about you," he said, "I can't. I can´t and I won't."

"I asked you once before," she said. "I'm not going to ask you again. This is it, Harry, this is the last chance you get, do you understand?"

"I can't," he said again.

"Good," she said, and shoved him away. His knife fell to the floor and she bent to pick it up. When she straightened up, she saw Harry staring at her.

"Good?" he echoed in disbelief.

"Yeah," she said, handing the knife to him. Mechanically, he took it. "Good. For six years I've been wondering if you were, you know, the one for me. And now," she said, "Now I know you aren't."

Harry's eyes were wide. "Hermione, I — " But she brushed past him and started walking. Harry stood there for a moment, gripping the knife very tightly in his hands. Then he followed her.

In dog form, Sirius raced up through the twisting corridors of the dungeons and hurtled out of the trap door. Keeping to the shadows, he crept through the hallways, heading in the direction he recalled that Lucius' study was located. It was lucky, he thought, very lucky that the house was so deserted — he couldn´t imagine where Lucius and the Death Eaters were, but there didn't seem to be anyone around.

He turned the handle of Lucius' study door with a paw, and padded inside. What he saw there shocked him so much that he turned back into his human form without even thinking, and yelled out loud.

Narcissa was sitting behind Lucius' oak desk. She was very pale, and she was holding Sirius' wand in her hands. When she saw him, her eyes began to dart wildly around the room.

"Sirius," she said, and she held out the wand to him with a shaking hand. "I knew you'd come for this. Take it quickly, and go."

He took it. He had a mad urge to touch her hand as he did so, but repressed it.

"The fencing room," he said gently. "How do I get there?"

She shook her head. "Just leave, Sirius."

"Narcissa," he said, "I need to get to Harry before the Dark Lord comes for him.

Do you understand?"

"I understand," she replied. "But the Dark Lord has already come for him."

Draco couldn't believe how hideous Voldemort was. He had never really thought about it, but had always assumed that the Dark Lord looked a lot like any other Death Eater, maybe a little taller or paler, but still human. Looking at Voldemort's slitted, catlike eyes and scaley, noseless face, Draco suddenly felt sorry for Harry.

Having to face him time after time. Seeing that face in his dreams. It would be horrible.

Draco knew he should be feeling panicky, but he wasn't. He didn't know why.

Partly, he supposed, it was that he could still feel Harry and Hermione at the end of the invisible cord, they were coming up through the tunnels, looking for him, and he could feel their concern and worry. It made him feel less alone, even if he knew there was no way they would make it in time.

He looked over at his father, who was looking both anxious and greedily hopeful.

"Are you pleased, Master?" Lucius Malfoy said.

"I am," said the Dark Lord. "Lucius, you and your Death Eaters have done very well."

"Lucius and the Death Eaters," said Draco, wishing his voice didn't sound so croaky. "Kind of sounds like a band name."

Lucius and Voldemort both stared at him. Draco stared back. If he was going to die, he was determined to die being obnoxious, which after all was what he was good at.

The Dark Lord bent and put his hand against Draco's forehead, directly on Harry's lightning scar. His hand was cold. "Does my touch burn you?" he said in his horrible voice. "Does it pain you, Harry Potter?"

"No," said Draco, "but it tickles like hell."

It was evident that Voldemort didn't have a sense of humor. He looked at Lucius, who looked back at him blankly and shrugged. "He's lying," said Lucius.

Voldemort's ugly cat eyes were slitted. "Is he?"

He reached down and drew off one of his gloves. The hand revealed underneath it was a dark red, almost brickish color, with long black nails. There were deep grooves along his palms, like healed cuts or burns.