Кассандра Клэр - Draco Dormiens

"Take my hand, Harry Potter," he said, holding it out to Draco.

"Not until you put some lotion on those cuts," said Draco, "they look really nasty."

"Take my hand!"

Voldemort's hand whipped out with the speed of a striking snake and seized hold of Draco's, which he crushed in his grip. It was the hand Harry had cut open and the pain was sharp. The Dark Lord's own hand was as dry and scaly as lizard skin.

He had no pulse at all. Draco wrenched his hand away as quickly as he could.

The Dark Lord turned to Lucius Malfoy and the look on his face was not pleasant at all. "Is this some kind of joke, Lucius?"

"I don't — I don't know what you mean," Lucius stammered.

"This," and Voldemort waved a contemptuous hand at Draco, "this is not Harry Potter. Did you think a feeble disguise would fool me? I, who carry Harry Potter's own blood in my veins? I don't know who this is — some Muggle you've tricked out with Polyjuice Potion-what were you hoping to accomplish, Lucius?"

Lucius Malfoy's face had gone the color of cottage cheese. "Not….Harry….Potter?"

he gurgled.

"Don't pretend you didn't know," said Voldemort, but Lucius was in too advanced a state of shock to say anything at all. He was goggling at Draco. Draco waved at him.

"Who are you?" Lucius said to him, in a hushed voice. "One of Potter's friends…?"

"Not hardly," said Draco.

"There is a simple solution to this question, Lucius," said Voldemort. He took out his wand and jammed the tip of it into Draco's throat, which hurt quite a lot.

"FINITE INCANTATUM!" said the Dark Lord.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Draco was sure the spell hadn't worked.

Then the sensation of melting that he remembered washed over him again, accompanied by pain that tore through his nerves like a flight of tiny arrows. It was as if his own skin were being ripped away, his bones melted and reformed. He doubled up and fell to the ground on all fours, gasping, his vision blurring with pain.

He seemed to see his own body from a long way away, he saw himself changing.

And he saw the narrow cord of light that stretched between himself and Harry snap like an overburdened fishing line. The vision of Harry he could see behind his inner lids spun away into the darkness — and he was alone.

Draco sat up slowly, feeling the pain ebb away. His vision was still blurred…but that, he realized, was because he was still wearing Harry's glasses, which he no longer needed. He reached up to remove them, but his hands were shaking so badly that it took him three tries before he could get them off.

He looked up. His father and Voldemort were staring at him, Voldemort with curiosity and Lucius with an expression that said that all his worst nightmares had just come true in one horrible moment.

"Isn't that your son, Lucius?" the Dark Lord said.

References:

1) "The Dark Lord has already come for him." In The Dark Is Rising by Susan Cooper, the Walker says "The Dark has already come for me."

2) "It tickles like hell." Buffy.

"Hello, Father," said Draco.

Lucius was still looking like someone had force-fed him a lemon that happened to be taped to an enormous brick. "Draco?"

"He really does look like you, Lucius," said Voldemort, giving Draco a cursory stare. "Especially around the eyes." He lifted his wand. "Pity I'll have to burn them out."

"My Lord," said Lucius desperately, turning to Voldemort. "Please believe me-" For a wild moment, Draco thought that his father was going to beg for his life.

"Please believe me, I knew nothing of this."

"Strangely enough, I do believe you, Lucius," said Voldemort. "You have always been deeply stupid and it does not surprise me that you had no knowledge of your son's activities. But that does not change the fact that he is a traitor and must die."

"If I might make a suggestion, Master?" said Lucius.

"Father," Draco interjected.

Lucius ignored him.

"Make it quickly," said the Dark Lord.

"The Veritas curse," said Lucius delicately. "It is possible, even likely, that Draco has some knowledge of the whereabouts of the real Harry Potter…if this is a Polyjuice spell, he must have needed to keep him nearby…."

Voldemort smiled coldly. "An excellent idea." He took his wand out again and pointed it at Draco.

"Father-" said Draco again.

"Veritas," hissed the Dark Lord.

So for the second time in his life, the hooks sank into Draco's chest and split it open, and he choked with pain and with the horror of being so exposed. It was even worse this time, maybe because this time he was resisting. It was no use, though. Whatever he meant to say when he opened his mouth, he knew the truth would come out instead.

Voldemort started simple. "What is your name, boy?"

"Draco Thomas Malfoy."

"After me, Lucius?" said Voldemort, "I had almost forgotten. How quaint."

Lucius simpered.

"Where is Harry Potter?"

Draco bit his lip hard. But it was no use. "I don't know," he heard himself say.

That was a relief, at any rate. The cord that had bound him to Harry had snapped with the spell's dissolution; he no longer had any idea where Harry might be.

"Why did you take on his appearance and pretend to be him?"

"My father was going to kill Hermione," said Draco. "I couldn't let that happen."

Lucius looked surprised. "Was she really your girlfriend?"

"No," said Draco. "She wasn't. She's Harry's best friend. "

"And you felt the need to risk you own life for the life of someone else's best friend?" asked the Dark Lord. "Why?"

"I love her," said Draco, and felt himself go scarlet. He would have thought he would have been beyond humiliation, but apparently not.

"My, how embarrassing," said Voldemort, but he looked faintly amused. "Why don't you tell us, young Malfoy, how you came to be in this house, with Harry Potter's best friend, whom you… love, and Harry himself, presumably disguised as you?"

"No," said Draco, fighting to get up on his hands and knees. There was something wet on his face; when he reached up to rub it off, his hand came away red. Blood.

He had bitten through his lip. "No."

But he couldn't get up. The pain in his chest was too intense, the feeling of being split open too strong. He fell back to the ground.

"Father," he heard himself say, and winced at how childish he sounded, "Father, please."

Lucius stirred uneasily. "Perhaps you should hit him with the spell again, Master?"

he said.

"Indeed," said Voldemort, and did.

They were nearly at the base of the stairs that led up to the drawing-room when Harry gave an almighty yell and pitched forward onto the ground. Hermione whirled around in surprise.

"Harry!" she called. "Are you all right…?"

His response was muffled. He seemed to be bent over as if in pain, an unhappy black lump huddled on the ground with his hands over his face. She went towards him and he raised his head. "Hermione? Is that you?"

She was about to respond impatiently when the light from her wand fell on his face, and her retort turned into a half-scream. She clapped a hand over her mouth and stared. "Harry…." she breathed. "It's you."

"Of course it's me," he said irritably. "Were you hoping it was Lucius? Never mind, don't answer that."

"Shut up," she said, "I'm serious, Harry, it's really you…you're back, you understand?"

And he was. Untidy black hair, green eyes, lightning-shaped scar and all. He dropped his hands from his face and gave her a half-smile. "I kind of figured that," he said. "On account of the horrible pain and the fact that I can't see anything."

Hermione couldn't stop staring at him. It was so strange to see his face as his face again; his familiar features once again animated by the intelligence that lived there and belonged there. There was a moment of awkward silence as she gawked at him. Finally, she said, "It doesn't still hurt, does it?"