Кассандра Клэр - Draco Dormiens

"I want you to be happy," he said slowly. "And if I don't make you happy, then you should be with the person who does."

He looked at her. Harry. Who she had always loved, not because he was brave, although he was, or clever, although he was that too, or a good dancer (which he wasn't) — but because he was kind, with the sort of kindness so rare among most people, and teenage boys in particular — kindness that not only gives, but gives up.

"He really does love you," he said. "Not like I do, but — " He broke off, turned, and walked towards the door. He was going to leave, she knew, because once Harry made up his mind to do something he did it. And when he said something, he meant it. And then she thought about what he had said, and what it would be like to live the rest of her life without him in it.

"Harry," she said, pushing herself off the wall and taking a step towards him.

"Please come back."

He turned around. She couldn't see his face, he was standing in a patch of shadow. She could see only the ghostly whiteness of his shirt and the pallor of his skin.

"Please come back," she said again.

He came back. And stood in front of her, looking at her.

And then there were hands on her shoulders, Harry's hands, and he was kissing her. And when she put her arms around him, he was soaking wet and the water chilled her through her clothes and his skin was cold as ice but his hands when he touched her burned. He tasted like rainwater and tears.

She fell back against the wall, still kissing him. Her hands were shaking and there was a humming in her ears that slowly intensified in pitch until it became music -

the most beautiful music she had ever heard.

She broke away from Harry, astonished, and saw by the expression on his face that he heard it too.

"What is that?" she said in wonder.

"Phoenix song," he said, looking equally amazed.

"Where's it coming from?" she asked, half turning to look around her. It was hard to see anything through the falling snow.

"Um," said Harry, looking sheepish now. "Me, I think."

"Harry," she said then, in a deadly quiet voice, "it's snowing."

"I know," he said, looking even more sheepish.

"Inside? In June?"

"Well," said Harry, now rather pink around the ears, "Dumbledore did say 'strong emotion' would activate my Magid powers."

"They're working?"

"Yeah," he said, looking bewildered but happy. "I felt it. Like a light switch turning on. I guess I just don't know exactly how to…"

"Control them yet?" she said, grinning, as several baby owls fell, hooting, from the ceiling.

"Yeah," he said, grinning back.

"I didn't know you liked owls so much," she said, as several more hurtled out of the sky.

"Kiss me again," he suggested. "Maybe we'll get canaries."

"Harry," she said, kissing him again, "did you know it's snowing blue snow?"

"I like blue," said Harry. "It's my favorite color."

"Blue snow?"

"Why not blue snow?"

'You always did say you thought snow was romantic," said Hermione, giggling.

"Just be glad I'm not Hagrid," said Harry, pulling her in for another kiss. "It'd be raining Blast-Ended Skrewts."

"I need to go talk to Draco," she said, some timeless time later when they had left the mirror room and were walking back along the corridor. Harry's wet shoes were squelching with every step, but he was still looking enormously pleased with the world and everything in it.

"I know," he said. "I should talk to him, too."

"But I should go first," she said.

"All right," he said, letting go of her hand. "But no suddenly deciding you're really in love with him after all," he added, warningly. "I can't take any more of that."

"If I have any doubts I can always go back to the mirror," she said teasingly, backing along the corridor. "If I can find it again, of course."

"Don't test me, Hermione," he said. "I've got blue snow all down the back of my shirt and owl feathers in my hair. I'm already cranky."

But he was smiling. She blew a kiss at him and dashed off down the hall. As soon as she was out of Harry's sight, she slowed to a walk and took the Epicyclical Charm out of her shirt. This, she knew, was cheating, but she really wanted to find Draco and couldn't imagine where he might be.

She concentrated, thinking very hard of Draco, picturing him as clearly as she could…his familiar face, light eyes and silver hair, narrow sideways smile…and the charm gave a gentle little tug. She took a step forward, and it tugged again.

Following the gentle tugging, Hermione made her way out of the castle and down to the lake. It had stopped raining, but everything was still very wet. She followed the tugging around to the small grove of trees where Draco had grown her the black rose two days before.

Draco was there, standing with his back to a tree, staring out at the lake.

Raindrops, caught in the leaves and branches, made a shimmering silver cage around him.

She came up behind him and put her hand lightly on his arm. "Hey," she said.

He didn't turn around.

"You don't have to tell me," he said. "I already know."

"Draco," she said.

Now he turned, and looked at her. His expression was unreadable. If she hadn't come to know him well, she wouldn't even have thought he was upset. "It turns out," he said in measured tones, "that I can still feel a little of what Harry feels, if he's feeling something strongly."

"Oh," she said, feeling herself go red. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," he said. "I've always known this would happen. I've been ignoring it, but I've always known it." He tried to grin at her, failed, and shrugged.

"Remember that time in the wardrobe back at the Manor?"

"Of course I do," said Hermione.

"Well, you kept saying 'Harry, Harry, Harry' the whole time."

"I did what?" She could feel her face burning. "Why didn't you say something?"

Draco shrugged again. "I'm sixteen," he said. "I'm not going to cut short a perfectly good make-out session on account of a little thing like that now, am I?"

Hermione covered her face with her hands. "I am so embarrassed," she said.

"Don't be," he said. "You've always been honest. You've never said you didn't love Harry. If I was you, I'd be in love with him instead of me as well." He grimaced.

"What am I talking about? No, I wouldn't. I'm miles better than him. You're mad, Hermione."

"I do love you," she said.

He was quiet for a second. Then he said, "Yeah. I know. Just…like you love Ron."

She shook her head. "It's different. I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. I can't explain it. But you're important to me. Whether or not I'm with Harry, I don't want to not know you any more. I want to still see you. Have you come visit me this summer." She smiled tremulously. "Get jealous about the masses of girlfriends you're going to have as soon as everyone finds out about you and me not being together after all."

"Won't Harry mind?"

"No. He's sort of fond of you, in a weird way," she said, knowing it to be true. "I think he'd miss you if you just disappeared."

"I'd miss him as well, I think," said Draco. "I'd miss all the 'Shut up, Malfoy!'s. I've gotten used to it. Crabbe and Goyle never tell me to shut up. It's refreshing."

"I think we can count on Harry to tell you to shut up on a regular basis," said Hermione.

Draco was looking at her with a funny little smile on his face. "So," he said. "Are you and Potter…official now?"

"Official?" said Hermione, bewildered. "We didn't talk about it, not really, but…"

He took her hand and turned it over so he could see her watch. "It's one minute to three," he said. "Let's say your relationship with Harry becomes official at 3pm sharp, shall we?"