Кассандра Клэр - Draco Dormiens

Madam Pomfrey watched Draco Malfoy sleeping with a mixture of dislike and concern. She didn´t like the boy, but she couldn´t help feeling sorry for him, he was obviously having terrible nightmares, lashing out with his hands and screaming. Suddenly his eyes flew open and he looked at her, seeming horrified.

"You´re awake!" she said brightly.

"Whatś going on?" he demanded, siting up. "Where am I?"

"Shush, Draco, you´ve had a bad bump on your head, you need to rest," she said, forcing him back down.

"I´m not Draco Malfoy!" he shrieked, his silver-gray eyes wide. "I´m not Malfoy!

I´m not!"

Madam Pomfrey was horrified, this was worse than she had thought. "Here, drink this,śhe said, forcing a cup filled with sleeping potion between the boyś lips. He swallowed reflexively and fell back on the pillows, eyes closing.

Madam Pomfrey stood up, shaking her head; she didn´t care what Dumbledore said, it was time to send an owl to this boyś father telling him to come and take his son home.

After lunch Harry had Quidditch practice. Draco got to the practice field early and sat in a patch of sunlight, twirling Harryś Firebolt in his hand-it was pretty to look at, he had to admit that. His dad had refused to buy him one until he beat Harry at Quidditch — which, Draco had pointed out, he wasn´t likely to do until he got a Firebolt to match Harryś.

A flicker of movement at the corner of his eye alerted him to the presence of someone else on the field, someone who was walking towards him. It was a very pretty girl in blue robes; her long black hair was braided down her back. Draco recognized her vaguely as the Ravenclaw Seeker, someone he´d played against before.

"Hello, Harry!" she called in a singsong voice.

Draco waved. He was still examining the Firebolt. He was, in fact, rather nervous about this practice session. Harry had a very distinctive flying style, and, well…

Draco didn´t like to admit this, but Harry was, in fact, a better flier than he was.

His teammates might — The girl flopped down on the grass next to him, breaking his train of thought.

Draco was annoyed. He´d been really looking forward to having a few more moments alone with the Firebolt, getting the feel of it. "Harry, Harry, Harry," the girl said, looking at him as if he were an adorable, but rather dim, toddler.

"Yes?" said Draco. "Did you want something?"

"You haven´t asked me out for at least two days," said the girl. "Usually you would have chased me down in the corridors or sent me an owl by now."

"I´ve been busy," said Draco.

"Busy?" said the girl in a tone that suggested no boy had ever told her he was busy before.

"Itś not a quiet life, being Harry Potter," Draco went on, warming to his subject.

"I´ve got classes, plus Quidditch, plus interviews with the Daily Prophet, loads of good to do and evil to vanquish, plus I´m being hunted down by the remorseless killer who murdered my parents. I haven´t got time to go barging around after girls."

The girl was staring at him with her mouth open. She looked much less pretty that way. "If you think you´re going to get me to go out with you by talking to me like that," she said, her voice tight with rage, "you´re wrong, Harry Potter!"

"Fine," said Draco. "Don´t go out with me. I´m really famous, I could go out with anyone."

With a scream of rage, the girl bounded to her feet and stalked away across the field. Draco watched her go, mildly grateful that she had taken his mind off the impending horror of Quidditch practice.

If Harry had known that Draco Malfoy was at that moment ruining any chance he might ever have had with Cho Chang, he might have been upset. But as he was quite asleep in the back of Lucius Malfoyś invisible carriage (Madam Pomfrey wouldn´t let Lucius Disapparate with his son while the boy was unconscious), being carried rapidly across the barren and windswept moors towards Malfoy Manor, he wasn´t.

On the Quidditch field, Draco discovered that he´d had nothing to worry about: he had not only inherited Harry's lousy eyesight, he had acquired his spectacular Quidditch skills as well. Draco swooped and dove on his broom, amazed how easy it was. When they had a practice game, he caught the Snitch easily, and did loop-the-loops in the air with it while Harryś Gryffindor teammates clapped and whistled. Hermione, who had come to watch him practice, cheered as well. "You're amazing, Harry!" she shouted up to him.

Draco waved at her, and then it happened: Not seeing Hermione on the field, George hit a Bludger hard at the ground. It streaked directly towards Hermione, who was too shocked to move.

Without stopping to think, Draco bent Harry's Firebolt into a spectacular dive, shooting towards the ground like a bullet. He sped towards the Bludger — he was going so fast, he could hardly believe it — he was level with it now, but nearly at the ground — he was in front of the Bludger — he jerked his broom around violently, putting himself between it and Hermione — and it struck him hard in the stomach, knocking him off his broom and onto the ground, now only three feet away. The Firebolt clattered down on top of him.

Draco lay flat for a moment, sucking in great wheezing gasps of air. He heard the thuck-thuck of feet hitting the ground and the Gryffindor team landed and raced over to see if he was all right.

Slowly, he raised himself on his elbows — his stomach hurt, but nothing seemed to be broken. He looked up and saw Hermione staring at him, white with shock.

"Harry," she said. "You could have been killed."

He looked away from her, feeling very uncomfortable, and saw the rest of Harryś team crowded around him. George was falling all over himself to apologize, Fred was hitting George, and Elizabeth, Katie and Alicia were taking turns comforting Hermione and patting Draco on the head. Eventually, Draco managed to extricate himself enough to stand up.

"Right, then," said Fred, who was the teamś captain, "go on back to the castle, Harry, you´ve had enough excitement."

"I´ll walk him," said Hermione, jumping to her feet.

Hermione, seeming oddly nervous, talked the whole way back to the castle.

"Everyone's talking about how you scared off Goyle during Care of Magical Creatures, Harry, it was just amazing, what did you say to him?"

Draco grinned. "Nothing, I just threatened him with a little wizard dueling…. You know he's no good at that kind of thing."

"Well, you were brilliant, the look on his face! And the way he ran!"

Hermione dissolved into giggles. Draco looked over at her, and, without even pausing to ask himself what on earth he was doing, dropped his Firebolt and his Quidditch robes, grabbed Hermione, and kissed her.

For a moment, she melted into the kiss. Then her arms went as rigid as broomsticks and she shoved him away. "Harry, no!" Her eyes, huge and shocked, stared at him.

For the first time in his life, Draco found he had nothing to say.

"You shouldn't make fun of me this way," said Hermione, tears springing into her eyes. "It isn't fair."

"I'm not making fun of you!" gurgled Draco, finding his voice.

"It isn't fair," she repeated, "Harry, you're my best friend, and I know how you feel about Cho-" "Cho?" Draco's mind was blank. "The Ravenclaw Seeker?"

Hermione stared.

"That explains why she was acting like that!" Draco exclaimed, then glanced back up at Hermione and said brightly, "Look, I'm well over her, Hermione. She's not even-" "Harry!" she said warningly.

They looked at each other. Then Draco did something else he had never done before.