Fire, fire and winter cold
We have fought in front of you.
One is so proud, the other is so young.
And everyone is a fairytale hero.
Fire! Fire! Your element.
You love light and warmth.
But the blizzards stabs my back
And plunges into emptiness.
And they will beat forever,
Instilling pain and fear in you
These two strange people -
Two Demons in your dreams.
He never ceases to amaze her.
"How can you manage to run into Black and company all the time? Severus, are you enjoying this?" Narcissa sat on the floor in the Slytherin living room opposite Severus Snape, trying to blend the brownish-greenish color from his hair.
Severus recoiled from her wand in annoyance.
"Of course, it's an insane pleasure to be made a fool in front of the whole school.
"Severus," Narcissa's voice approached the freezing point of the water, "don't you dare talk bad about his family. You will become an incomprehensible color."
The door slammed and Lucius Malfoy came down from his room into the living room.
"Severus? Have you decided to drastically change your hairstyle?"
"Stop it, Lucius! This isn't funny!" said Narcissa.
He shrugged his shoulders and asked:
"Going to the game?"
He himself was already wearing a dark green sweater with silver stripes, and a dark green robe with his unforgettable name embroidered on the back was thrown over his arm.
"Done," Narcissa removed the wand from Snape's hair and turned to Malfoy. "I honestly don't want to. Quidditch is boring. "
"And I'm coming," Snape responded and went to fetch the robes, because October was chilly this year.
Narcissa and Lucius were left alone. A rare moment.
"Narcissa," Lucius's voice was soft, too soft, "I would ask you to choose expressions from now on when talking to me in front of strangers.
Narcissa nodded silently. She was tired and really didn't care. Let be. She may not talk to him at all, either in front of strangers, or without them.
"As for Quidditch, you're wrong, honey. It's very interesting," Lucius said forcefully. "And you like to watch me play. Am I right? I can't hear."
"In that tactful way, are you trying to invite me to go see the game?"
"Not just the game. My game. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. It's always fun."
Just then Snape came down to the living room, followed by a few more students. All were dressed in the colors of the faculty. Some even have painted faces. The living room, already not abundant in a variety of colors, turned green in an instant.
You feel like you're in a swamp, Narcissa thought.
Lucius took a step towards Narcissa and, holding her close to him, kissed her on the temple. There were voices of approval.
"For good luck," Lucius said gently, peering into the girl's face.
Wow! If she had not heard his other words a minute ago, she would have decided, what good, that he is really crazy about her. Such a sincere look, such a warm tone ...
Narcissa propped herself up on tiptoe and touched his lips slightly with hers. Lucius smiled lightly.
"Good luck honey!" she said clearly so that everyone could hear. "I'll be in the front row of our podium."
Here simply ovations and shouts of "bravo!" Should have followed: how she hated him and with what tenderness she looked. Lucius was pleased. The first victory over her. And how many more will be ahead, before it even occurs to her to stop resisting.
Leaving the locker room under the gloomy skies of the stadium, Lucius scanned the stands. As always: a handful of green on Slytherin's, and just some kind of fire on everyone else. The red even dazzled my eyes.
Stephen Flint - captain of the national team, went into the center circle and shook hands with James Potter.
"Would you break his fingers, or what?" thought Malfoy lazily, if only once they could catch the Snitch. I thought, however, without much hope, because, firstly, Flint would have been disqualified for this, and they did not have a spare catcher of this class; well, and secondly, Potter and with broken fingers on the field can do a hoo. To be honest, there was such a bad tradition: four years, since this brat became the catcher of Gryffindor, the Slytherin catcher has never managed to catch the Snitch in games against the hated house.
"Yes, to hell with him and Potter, we'll beat everyone else ..."
The whistle made fourteen players fly into the air. Lucius flew around the rings and took his crown position - just to the left of the middle. He began to occupy this position for a long time. Since then, I realized that his jerk to the left is much inferior in strength and speed to the movement to the right. With what it was connected, the young man did not know. Maybe it's because he's right-handed? Therefore, Malfoy has always used these features of his technique. I hung up and watched the game indifferently. Indifferent until the moment when an opponent's figure appeared dangerously close to his goal. It was here that it was impossible to recognize the always slightly lazy relaxed Lucius Malfoy. At such moments, he looked more like a beast ready to jump. No, he was aware that he was not a great player. Perhaps he lacked zeal in training, sometimes excessive self-confidence let down. Lucius Malfoy often missed the fine line between confidence and overconfidence. He was regularly paid for it, but he never learned to draw conclusions. Or maybe there was something important in it? For example, watching Potter play, he was always quietly annoyed: that's really someone like from the cradle on a broomstick. And it's not just about hard training and a blind desire to win. There was a spark in Potter, a gift from above. It wasn't in Lucius. He lacked the speed and speed of flight. In addition, Lucius, often punished in childhood, instead of the habit of pain, received her panic fear. He was well aware that he would never be able to rush into the thick of the fray as madly and furiously as most other players. He, of course, loved his faculty and wished him victory, only he loved himself much more. The goalkeeper's position was perfect for him. There was no need to make open contact, collide, fight. As for the Bludgers, the goalkeepers were usually attacked only by the Slytherin beaters. The rest of the rivals were more humane, or what? So Lucius was also excluded from the list of victims of the Bludgers. The ability not to be distracted by trifles helped him to be a good goalkeeper. In any case, at the moment, the best, except, perhaps, Sirius Black, but this Lucius stubbornly did not want to admit to himself.
He threw a tenacious glance in the direction of his rival, which he has now become in full measure, and not only in the game, and froze in the air: next to the opposite rings some unfamiliar, fragile-looking sophomore or third-year student hovered. Strange, Lucius himself saw Black in uniform coming out of the locker room. Maybe he was temporarily made a reserve, and the boy was just given a try? Nonsense. Yes, together with the very first kwofl, he will bring it into the rings. Moreover, he will slip through them without touching, the boy seems too small. No, common sense dictated that in a match against Slytherin, even the narrow-minded, in his opinion, Gryffindors would not throw out such nonsense. You can try in a game with Hufflepuff, and even then not always.
Heck! Where is Black? Lucius skimmed his gaze over the players listening to Madame Hooch's last words. At this distance, everyone seemed the same. What's happening? The whistle blew, and there was no time to think. The red and green dots, still hovering motionless over the field, jumped abruptly from their place. Lucius was not the captain of the team, but, in his own interests, always studied the tactics of the opponent.
With a whistle, one red dot rushed upward - Potter; two scattered around the edges of the field and shifted slightly - one Thomas McKay, the other Lucius knew only visually. They are beaters. The three other players flashed across the field so quickly, scattering, then colliding with an opponent, that it became impossible to see who is who. Moreover, Robert Davis rushed to the Gryffindor rings with a quofle and struck hard just on the central one. The boy-goalkeeper rushed upward with a loose spring and a little awkwardly parried the ball, which was immediately picked up by a red dot and, dodging the bludger, rushed to the center of the field. A fierce battle over the quofle ensued, and Lucius was given the opportunity to look at the boy. Lucius, of course, did not see the face, but judging by the tense posture of the boy, he was closely watching the game, quickly adjusting something to his hand.
The brush was knocked out, Lucius realized. "You have to think with your head. It is better to hit such balls with a broom or skip. He still has the whole game ahead, and already an obvious injury. That's what Gryffindors are all about. "
Suddenly, a sudden movement distracted Lucius's attention. About twenty meters from him, a figure in a red robe was falling like a stone. At first, Lucius thought it was Potter, who saw the Snitch, until he noticed a Quofle in the hands of the attacker. Lucius tensed and looked directly into the face of the rapidly approaching figure. He knew that most of the Gryffindor squad had graduated from high school last year, and that the remaining players were periodically auditioning for various positions. From despair. Lucius stubbornly drove away from himself the idea that there are people who can equally play as any player. This conclusion was unpleasant.
But he had to be surprised at the peculiarities of Gryffindor tactics already in the throw, because a quofle was flying rapidly towards his lower right ring. Lucius loved just those kicks - a sharp jerk, and you're already getting applause from the fans. That something was not going well, he realized already in flight. Quofle, who was supposed to be firmly fixed in his gloves, whistled a few millimeters from his fingertips. Lucius watched the irregularly shaped brown ball fly into the ring.
"10-0! Gryffindor opened the scoring!"
Lucius turned abruptly and met Sirius Black's gaze, expecting to get even more angry at his idiotic joyful smile. But what he saw was a hundred times worse: the face of the opponent, instead of puppy joy at the open account against the hated Slytherin, burned with gloomy satisfaction. The Gryffindor turned sharply, leaving Lucius to stare at the yellow embroidery on the red robes: Black. Lucius noticed inappropriately that Black had the same number, "1". The first numbers, according to tradition, were assigned to goalkeepers; seventh - to catchers. The rest of the players distributed the numbers among themselves as they wanted. Meanwhile, the "first" number of red-yellows flew to the center of the field in anticipation of a new rally, raising the palm of his right hand up, and a bunch of raging Gryffindors, flying past, clapped on his glove.
"Damn! This jerk on opposite rings took almost no ball, and I missed such an easy one. And from whom!"
But he didn't let his rage flood his mind. It was a surprise effect - no one could have guessed that they would change the line-up like that. Lucius won't fall for that bait again.
He had not yet had time to formulate the idea that this trick would not work anymore, when the "first" number of his rivals materialized in front of him again. This time Sirius emerged from somewhere below the left side. He flew swiftly, purposefully, dodging Bludgers with ease. In general, Gryffindor often used this tactic, when, after passing a pass to one hunter, all the other team members blocked the opponents. The result was a one-on-one exit. The only danger to the hunter in this situation was the Bludgers. Even now, experienced Slytherin beaters interfered with the movement of the Gryffindor, and Lucius had not been playing for the first year. He glared at Black's focused face. He held the quofle in his left hand, although he himself was right-handed. This means that he will now throw the ball to the other hand and let him read his intentions, and even with this overrun, Lucius will have an extra couple of seconds.
Like last time, this thought has not yet fully formed in the brain, and Sirius has already thrown the ball hard into the top ring. The throw was from an uncomfortable hand, but somehow miraculously reached the goal. Lucius didn't understand how this could have happened. He again, for the second time, watched the receding number and surname on his back. And again: no madness, just calm confidence, and this somehow did not fit with the usually impulsive and loving to show off Black. Lucius looked at Davis and followed him to the rings of his opponent. After the throw of the Slytherin, the score did not change: "20 - 0".
This dreadful game lasted forty-two minutes. After its completion, Lucius, without flying up to the center of the field for greetings, congratulations and other sports nonsense, dived down at his rings and headed to the locker room. Kicking the door open, he put his broom on the bar and fiddled with the protector clasp with ferocity. Mentally returned to the last minutes of the game. We have to face it - he lost this match. It doesn't matter that the whole team was unable to cope with the onslaught of the opponent. However, rather not with an onslaught, but with a defense. Thirty blows were struck on the rings of this jerk at the opposite end of the field. A very impressive figure for such a short game. At the gate of Lucius - only twenty-one. The important thing is that this boy, playing with an obvious injury, hit twenty-five balls, some of which were, like the first, not tackled. And even at the very end, Black rushed sharply to the gate, and all the Slytherins rushed to cut him. It took them a while to realize that Black was just a distraction. This became clear only when Potter took off from the edge of the field with the snitch clutched in his hand. When he managed to grab him, he saw, perhaps, Flint, who at that moment was sprawled on the ground. Potter used his skate - only he knew how to get out of the dive at the very last moment. Flint never worked that way. It didn't work out this time either.
The nerves of the beater, Bright Moss, could not stand it, and he sharply directed the bludger at Black, who was already hovering a little to the side, who, with the appearance of Potter, stopped attacking. Black only managed to cover his head with his hand. From the blow, his protector flew to the side - apparently, the fasteners could not withstand. Black lost his balance and, continuing to press his hand to his head, began to fall down. Madame Hooch stopped the fall, and Thomas McKay knocked Moss down with a bludger. Madame Hooch assigned two free throws. They already did not change anything in the game - Gryffindor had too large a gap in points, and could only confirm the skill of the goalkeepers. The spinnet hit the Slytherin rings and Lucius took the ball with ease. But the boy missed Davis' blow, and, seeing how he barely controls the broom, going down to Black, Lucius realized that the injury was serious. He glanced at Moss briefly. Order! But from under Black's glove, which he, sitting on the grass, still pressed to his head, was oozing blood. Lucius swooped down sharply.
He could not say that he had performed poorly. Neither Spinet nor Jenkins were able to break it. Who is to blame for the fact that the third hunter of the Gryffindor team went out to his goal fifteen times during this game? As painful as it was to admit it, Lucius did not take a single ball from Black. This was the first time that had happened to him. How could this newly minted hunter beat him, a goalkeeper with five years of experience? Probably in something most important. He went out not just to play - to play against Lucius.
The doors flew open and the rest of the team entered. No one looked at each other. Lucius quickly headed for the shower, undressing as he went. I didn't want to see anyone. What the hell else did he bring Narcissa to this match? She was glad to see him humiliated by this upstart. The only consolation for Lucius was the knowledge that Black's fall must have looked frightening from the podium.
Lucius was not wrong about that. Desperately angry with the whole world, Narcissa sat in the first podium, as promised, and tried not to deafen from the screams of the fans. It turned out badly. My ears were already ringing desperately, although the game had not yet begun. And finally, the Slytherins left the locker room and stopped on the field, waiting for an opponent. Narcissa waved her hand to them. Whether or not Lucius had seen her was another matter that the girl did not care much about. She fulfilled her part of the agreement. Players in red robes emerged from their dressing room. Unlike Lucius, Narcissa immediately found the silhouette of Sirius Black with her eyes and did not take her eyes off him. Forty-two minutes before the pain in his eyes, she accompanied his every dash for the ball or to block an opponent with a jerk of her desperately pounding heart. She was not at all bewildered by the six other figures in red - she simply did not see them. There was only him. She did not puzzle over changing his position. There was one thought - he. Everything else seemed small, insignificant. When Sirius scored his first goal, Narcissa jumped to her feet. She wanted to scream joyfully, but Goyle's cry returned her to her place:
"Don't be upset, this is an accident!"
Narcissa looked back at him and sat up. She had never experienced such tension as in those forty-two minutes. And at the very end of the game, Potter caught the Snitch. The moment she, of course, did not see, as she watched Sirius rushing along the western edge of the field, and was almost the very first to see the Bludger crash into him. From a strong blow, the young man was sharply thrown to the side, and something flew off the form. Narcissa screamed, but no one heard it in the general noise. She jumped in despair to the railing - nothing was visible. Players were already flying to the place of his fall. And then some kind of turmoil began around Moss. And then, for some reason, the game continued ... Narcissa all this time looked at Sirius, who was sitting on the grass and periodically taking his hand from his head and examining his gloves. Then everyone reached out from the stands, and she came to her senses. Pushing everyone in her path, Narcissa rushed to the exit. The crowd pushed her aside and carried her towards the school. Goyle offered to go to the dressing rooms and support Lucius. What are the changing rooms? Which Lucius? Narcissa dashed toward the main entrance to the castle. After waiting for the people to disperse a little, the girl went to the hospital wing. And only when she approached the entrance to the infirmary and saw the red sea of Gryffindor fans, she realized her stupidity. Against the background of red flags and painted faces, her green scarf looked wild.
When she reached the students, Narcissa hesitated.
"Moss was not taken to the hospital wing," someone from the crowd said.
Narcissa nodded. She didn't have the courage to say that she had come to find out about Sirius. From the door of the infirmary came a lumpy Potter and another boy in a red robe. His wrists were fixed and his arms hung in a sling. And both at once. It turned out to be an eerie look, like a dead man in a coffin. How will he be now, until everything heals? However, the boy's face showed that he was glad and happy. He smiled selflessly at the words of James Potter.
"Potter," Narcissa said, "just a minute ..."
Potter raised an eyebrow and, after saying something to the boy, walked over.
"I wanted to ask ... I really need to know ..."
As Narcissa tried to find her words, the corridor filled with noise, and she saw another figure in a Quidditch sweater emerge from the infirmary.
"Jim! I'm done," Sirius shouted, pushing his way through the crowd of cheering classmates.
Narcissa fell silent. Potter looked back at the hail. Sirius Black froze, not reaching them a couple of steps. His gaze rested on Narcissa, and her heart ached. He was pale and had a magic plaster on his forehead. In addition, the left hand was, like that boy's, in a tight bandage and a sling.
"I'll look for Lily," Potter said uncertainly and took a step to the side.
"You don't need to look for me," a ringing voice announced Evans' arrival. She quickly got her bearings in the situation and, instead of going to meet Potter, took a step towards Sirius.
"How do you?" she carefully ran her fingertips over his plaster.
This action brought Sirius out of his stupor, and he turned his gaze to Lily.
"Fine," he said and added with a smile, "we won!"
"Yes! You are a hero!"
Lily took his good arm and pulled him past Narcissa, catching Potter's elbow with her other hand on the way. The company marched past the frozen Slytherin.
"Sirius ..." she said.
Sirius Black's shoulders twitched, but he continued on his way without looking back. James Potter did not look back either. Lily did it for both of them. Her smile made Narcissa clench her fists and watch the retreating trinity with a hateful look. Relief that Sirius was okay was replaced by an eerie anger at him.
Lucius Malfoy alone was climbing the steps leading to the main entrance when the same boy - the goalkeeper of Gryffindor - came out to meet him. Both of his arms were in a sling. Lucius was about to inform him that at this rate in Gryffindor the goalkeeping vacancy would be vacant after every game, when suddenly:
"You're just fine!"
Such a familiar and familiar voice. Lucius turned sharply to see Frida Zabini ascending the steps. She probably came along one of the narrow paths that lavishly weave cobwebs on the school grounds, so he had not noticed her earlier.
"Incredible! I probably misheard. "
Lucius glared at the girl's face. No, I heard right. I was just wrong. Frida really said these words, but not to him. A red flag with the image of a lion thrown over her shoulders spoke very clearly about her sports predilections.
"You'll make a great goalkeeper, Matthew. Rarely are openings like this. You're a real fighter."
The boy beamed.
"Wow, I don't even know for sure what course this brat is from, but she called him by name."
And then Lucius was completely smitten: none other than the headman of Gryffindor Remus Lupine climbed the steps behind Frida. Lucius didn't even want to think about why they were walking together. The hope that this meeting was accidental was dispelled when the young man noticed two omniocles in Lupin's hands, one of which belonged to Frida. Lucius remembered him well. And before he could think, the words had already fallen from his tongue:
"Lupine, there your beloved Black is already, go, funeral, and you here with the young ladies chill."
The harsh words made Frida turn around and slash Lucius with a furious glare.
"No, they are more likely to sing praises to him. He won!" Lupine calmly parried and ran up the steps. "Mat, you're just great! How are your hands?"! He put his arm around the happy boy's shoulders, and all three disappeared into the castle.
Realizing that he was doing one foolishness after another, but unable to contain himself, Lucius Malfoy hit his fist on the stone parapet and immediately gasped in sharp pain. Blood appeared on the broken knuckles. It brought him to his senses a little.
Narcissa Black was sitting on the floor by the fireplace in the Slytherin living room. When Lucius entered, she was alone. That in case of victory, happy students would have raged and raged here, but now the living room was quiet and deserted.
He slammed the door and the girl looked up at the sound.
"Did you think I was injured?" he asked as he walked over and squatted down next to her?
"Why do you think so?"
"Well, I can't explain your desire to visit the infirmary anymore. It's not Moss, with whom you didn't say a word, you rushed to visit, and even risking running into a cordon of Gryffindors. You yourself look quite healthy. So I decided that you were worried about me. "
His voice was completely calm, but Narcissa felt uncomfortable.
"Who told you about this?"
"You did not answer my question!" said Lucius, looking into the fireplace.
Narcissa put down the book she was reading and looked at the young man. A skinny teenager squatting and watching the flame play. He might even be nice, if not ... Narcissa's gaze rested on his hands. The right hand was covered with caked blood.
"What's with your hand, did you fight?"
"With Sirius!" the girl decided in horror, "but that one has an injury!"
In response to her words, Lucius looked up from the fire and looked into her eyes, then extended his right hand, palm down. Deciding that she needed help, Narcissa took his hand in hers. The girl carefully studied the abrasion and reached for her magic wand. Lucius jerked his hand out of her fingers and grabbed her wrist painfully with his good hand.
"When I want your help, I will tell you about it. In the meantime, you should think about: whatever you do, whatever you think, I will know, I will always know. And you better not face the consequences of this. So be smart, and let the thought not even casually peep into your pretty head - to make a fool of me, like today. "
Releasing her hand, the young man jerked up and ran up the stairs leading to his bedroom. Narcissa was left alone. In this room. In this castle. In this eerie world.
But before that there was still hope ...