Кассандра Клэр - Draco Dormiens

"Why is my suffering so amusing?" Harry wondered out loud.

"That should be obvious," said Ron.

Harry turned and looked at him. "Yes?"

"Because it's unnecessary," said Ron. "She does love you, you stupid idiot. You're just being bloody-minded, and not speaking to her, so what d'you expect her to do? Especially with Malfoy oozing the old Harry Potter charm all over her, you know, whatever it was he picked up from you when you were under the Potion."

"I don't know," said Harry thoughtfully, "I think it's all him now, actually."

"You mean you think he really loves her?" asked Ron, looking astonished.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I do."

"In that case," announced George, "you really are in trouble, Harry."

Fred was grinning again. "Think of that time Malfoy asked you if you'd kill him.

Bet you wish you had that moment to live over again, don't you?"

"With you two for friends, who needs misery and self-loathing?" asked Harry rhetorically, glaring at them.

"And when did you get so sarcastic?" said George, giving Harry a hard look. "You sound like-" "Malfoy," said Fred.

They all looked at Harry consideringly.

"So it looks like Malfoy's been left with the aftereffects of your nice-guy personality," said Fred, after a pause. "And you-" "Have been left with an extremely bad temper," finished George.

"I think we can say that Malfoy is the clear winner in this scenario," said Fred.

"Yeah," said Harry, looking towards the door through which Draco and Hermione had gone. "Tell me something I don't know."

It was a beautiful sunny day. Draco and Hermione skirted the lake and headed for a small copse of trees. They were walking near where the second task had taken place in their fourth year. Hermione wondered if Draco knew it.

He stopped under one of the trees, and said, "Come here."

She came and stood next to him, so close her arm was touching his.

"Watch this," he said, and pointed his left hand at the base of the tree.

Nothing happened. "Oops," he said. "I forgot. The bandages interfere."

He pointed his other hand at the base of the tree, and this time something happened. There was a noise like a guitar string being plucked, and the earth at the base of the tree moved. As Hermione watched in astonishment, a green shoot poked its way out of the ground, rocketed upward, and in seconds was putting forth petals. Within moments, it had become a black rose. The only black rose Hermione had ever seen.

She looked at Draco with her mouth open. "Is that…how did you…?"

He grinned at her. "It's a Magid thing," he said. "I practiced all morning. You like?"

"I've never even seen a black rose before," she said, bending to examine it.

"I don't seem to be able to get flowers in any other color," he said, shrugging. "I guess it's because I'm not a flowers kind of guy. I seem to be pretty good at growing Venus Flytraps, and I managed to make it hail, but flowers…not so much."

"You made it hail?"

"Well, just in a very small area. And the hail was black, too."

"Don't you think it's dangerous using your Magid skills when you haven't had any training?" said Hermione, knowing she sounded bossy, but, as usual, not being able to help it.

"Probably," said Draco. "I suppose it could have hailed anvils. But I'm not too worried. Don't you like your flower?" he added, sounding anxious.

Hermione plucked it out of the ground, and stood up, holding it between her fingers gingerly. It had quite a lot of big, sharp thorns. "I do like it," she said, looking up at him. "It's all thorny and prickly. Kind of like you."

He bent and kissed the side of her mouth, and his silver hair brushed her cheek like butterfly wings. She inhaled the scent of him — coffee and limes and pepper and maple syrup from breakfast.

Then she pulled away. "I can't," she said.

"Why NOT?" said Draco, for one moment sounding less like a supremely self-possessed Malfoy and more like an irritable sixteen-year-old boy.

"I don't know what's going on with me and Harry."

"A big lot of nothing," said Draco, "that seems to be what's going on with you and Harry. Or am I wrong?"

"No," she said slowly. "No. You're not wrong. But I can't do anything with you while he's not speaking to me, because… because…"

"Because you want his blessing?" said Draco.

She was surprised to realize that this might be true. "I think so," she said.

"In that case," said Draco, "we'll be dating when you're thirty."

"Just give me some time," she said, looking up at him pleadingly.

He threw up his hands. "Okay," he said. "Time."

Hermione had never realized that the simple fact that she was always with Harry had convinced most of the school that they were, in truth, an item. (The frequent Witch Weekly articles claiming that she and Harry were together hadn't hurt, either.) Now that there were rumors about her and Draco, and she and Harry were no longer friends, girls started oozing out of the woodwork at an incredible rate.

Oozing all over Harry.

Suddenly there were girls at Quidditch practice, girls at the Gryffindor table, girls waiting outside classes in the hallway. It seemed like every time she saw Harry he was surrounded by girls. Tall girls, short girls, she even saw Moaning Myrtle trying to get his attention near the bathroom one day. It began to seem like she was the only girl at Hogwarts who wasn't constantly talking to Harry.

It was like walking around in a nightmare. Everywhere she went she saw Harry -

after all, they were in the same house, and had most classes together — but he wouldn't speak to her or even look at her, and he was always surrounded by girls.

If it hadn't been for Draco, Hermione would have been completely miserable. He always seemed happy to see her, and was remarkably easy to be around. He introduced her to his Slytherin friends, which was interesting. Crabbe was so shocked to be introduced to Hermione that he spit crackers all over her, and Goyle simply stood and looked at her with his mouth wide open. Pansy Parkinson burst into tears every time Hermione walked by her, and Hermione flatly refused to be introduced to Millicent Bulstrode, as the memory of the headlock Millicent had put her into in second year still stung. Some of the other Slytherins weren't so bad, but Hermione didn't feel comfortable around them.

"Whenever they look at me," she said to Parvati — she would have preferred to talk to Ron, but since he was always with Harry, that was nearly impossible — "I feel like they're mentally sharpening knives in my direction."

"They're not the nicest people, that's true," agreed Parvati, who was applying an eyelash-lengthening charm in front of the mirror in their dormitory room. "But surely they can't all be worthless, can they?"

"Aside from Draco, you mean?" said Hermione, who was lying on the bed watching Parvati.

"Well, obviously, since you're dating him."

"We are NOT dating," protested Hermione.

"You're not?" Parvati was so astonished she accidentally elongated her eyelashes to nearly a foot in length, and Hermione had to help her shrink them back. When this process was finished, Parvati repeated her question, and Hermione sighed.

"We're not," she said. "We're just friends."

"You want to know something, Hermione?" said Parvati earnestly. "You being friends with Draco Malfoy…that's even weirder than you dating him."

"Why?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Well, if you were dating him, I could put it down to uncontrollable physical attraction. I mean, he is cute. That's a fact. But if you're just friends with him…"