translation will be finished. don't panic (if there was one, of course)
You will leave me doubt in return
And you will go to your unknown land.
Demon Boy, incarnation of Darkness,
I want to get to know you better.
I want to try anyway
To touch the soul to you.
Demon Boy you can stay
Even for a moment on a sinful Earth?
Wait! Don't rush to your kingdom!
It is so important for me to understand you.
Demon Boy please stay!
I'm afraid to lose you.
The main thing is to get through the next few hours and not go crazy. This has been the concern of Hermione Granger, the head of Gryffindor, for quite some time now. She had been standing in the middle of platform 9 and ¾ in the company of Harry and Ron for ten minutes already, desperately angry at Ginny, who had forgotten something at home and had to return. There were twenty minutes left before departure, and Ginny was doing quite well. The problem is that Hermione didn't smile at spending those twenty minutes on the platform. She was terribly nervous and constantly looked around.
"May she have time, Hermione! Calm down." Ron's voice broke into thought.
"Huh? What?"
"I say that Ginny is doing quite well. You don't need to turn your head so actively, otherwise something good will fall off. Moreover, the entrance to the platform is from the other side."
Hermione stared at Ron and tried to figure out what he wanted. Ron grinned at the top of his mouth. Hermione gave him a puzzled look and turned to Harry. Harry thoughtfully poked at the loose cobblestone with the toe of his boot. Apparently, he wanted to finally remove it from the platform cover.
"Harry ..." Hermione raised an eyebrow pointedly.
The young man looked up in surprise, his thoughts, it seemed, were somewhere far away. The girl emphatically shook her head in the direction of the disgrace he had done. Harry looked at the cobblestone and, with the same enthusiasm with which he had previously knocked out, began to fit it into place. Hermione glanced around at the many students again. Since no one was wearing school robes, the girl's heart fluttered every time she saw the tall, blonde figure. It was foolish to deceive myself. Her eyes were searching the crowd ... Draco Malfoy. She was perfectly aware of the fact that no one has hair of this shade. And all the same she shuddered at the sight of all the blondes.
"I'm not late!" said a breathless voice behind her.
Turning around, Hermione saw Ginny with a flushed face and out of breath.
"What's with your sleeve?" Hermione pointed to a spot of whitewash that stood out against the blue fabric of Ginny's denim jacket.
"Oh shit! Damn."
"What?" Harry asked.
"I didn't leave Blaise Zabini from the other side of the aisle to the platform. She pushed me against the wall."
Ginny began to scrub her sleeve furiously.
"Why did she push you?" Harry said in bewilderment.
"Harry, since when do Slytherins need a reason to be nasty ?!"
"Was she alone?" Hermione asked as indifferently as possible.
Heart flinched, waiting for an answer. Ginny cocked her head in surprise.
"I have no idea, I didn't look. Besides, there could hardly have been someone pleasant to my eyes in her environment."
"Yeah, seeing Malfoy ahead of schedule is a joy." put on a look of disgust on Ron's face.
"Why Malfoy?" Harry tensed a little from this conversation, but decided to clarify.
Hermione was overwhelmed with apprehension. She scolded herself for what the light was for a stupid question. The conversation spilled over into an unwanted channel. The girl was not ready to talk calmly about the Slytherin head so soon. Too fresh were the memories of a day that was not there for all other people.
"Because they are dating." Ginny explained, finally finishing wiping off her sleeve.
"How do you know that?" Ron choked.
"Last year I walked with Dean not far from Hagrid's hut. Well, I stumbled upon a kissing couple. As I recall, we were overwhelmed by such a dubious place for romantic dates. Found where to kiss!"
"Oops, you'd think you and Dean were doing something different there," Harry put in sarcastically.
"Hey!" Ron was indignant.
"So. We've arrived. Let's leave Malfoy. Does anyone really want to ruin the last moments of their vacation?" Everyone turned to Hermione.
She scanned her friends with a belligerent look. There was a moment of silence, which was broken by Ginny's suggestion:
"Shall we go take a seat?"
The whole company, as if on command, moved towards the train.
"By the way, Ginny, what didn't you like about the surroundings of Hagrid's hut?"
"Harry! Malfoy has his own room. Why hang out with girls who knows where?"
"Ginny!" Ron's roar mingled with Hermione's indignant scream.
Even Harry blushed slightly. The next few minutes were spent trying to preach Ron's younger sister. Only when they reached the empty compartment and arranged their things, the three friends turned to Ginny and took a breath. It was clear from the red-haired Gryffindor girl's face that the trinity's oratory skills hadn't impressed her in the least.
"If you are boring, I'll go look for another compartment." she said with a cheerful smile.
"No," Harry said firmly and, turning to Hermione and Ron, added: "Leave the girl alone." In response to a puzzled look, he nonchalantly reported:
"You will now dump to carry out the duties of headmen and will return it is unknown when, and I am here alone to cook?"
"Invite Malfoy!" Ron blurted angrily. He still could not get away from the frivolous phrase of his younger sister.
"Not funny!" snapped Harry sharply.
Silence fell in the compartment. After a while, Hermione said conciliatoryly:
"Okay, let's change the subject. Five minutes before departure. I suggest we just chat."
With exaggerated cheerfulness, she waved her arms toward the seats. Harry slumped into the left seat, looking angry and stared out the window. Ginny sat down next to him. Hermione sighed and took a seat across from Harry. Ron stood for a while and sat down opposite his sister. An awkward pause. Finally, Ginny's voice cut through the silence in the compartment.
"Look, I was joking. Ron, I didn't stay in the boys' rooms. Relax. You don't need to react so painfully to everything."
"I'm your older brother. How else should I react?"
"Take it easy," Ginny said apologetically.
Harry reached out and clasped his hands at the back of his head.
"Didn't think who you can take on the team this year?"
Hermione smiled involuntarily. Harry very cleverly occupied Ron's thoughts for the next couple of hours. The girls looked at each other and winked at each other. Several minutes passed, and the train started. Ron and Harry enthusiastically discussed the Gryffindor candidates, Ginny stubbornly searched for something in her bag, and Hermione looked out the window. Yes! Today she will have to gather all her courage and composure into a fist. She turned her gaze to Ron sitting next to her.
"What?" he intercepted her gaze, falling silent in mid-sentence.
"It's time for us. We are the prefects. Remember?"
"I remember," with a doomed sigh, Ron rose from his seat.
"Ro-o-he!" held out Hermione.
"What else!" the youth responded angrily, turning in the doorway.
"Are you going to wear your school gown and badge?" Ron shot a meaningful look at Harry and reached for his things.
"And there is no need to look at each other behind my back!" As she passed by, she angrily pushed Ron in the side, forcing him to bend over.
"Listen, what did you do in the summer that you came back so aggressive?"
The girl lifted her nose and, grabbing her robes, left the compartment. Ron exchanged a few words with Harry and also appeared in the hallway.
"I'm ready!" the guy announced with the air of a gallant officer.
Hermione smiled slightly, letting her know that she had changed her anger to mercy, and moved towards the third car. For several decades, the elders gathered there. Why - no one knew. The girl slowly made her way down the corridor, looking into the ajar doors of the compartment. Was she performing the duties of the headman? Yes of course! But Hermione was not used to lying to herself. With a sinking heart, she expected every minute to see an obnoxious boy dressed in a robe with the emblem in the form of a snake. The main thing is to stay calm. He shouldn't have guessed that she remembers anything.
"Hermio-o-she!" it turns out Ron has been trying to get her attention for some time.
The girl turned around and raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"What happened?" looking her straight in the eye, Ron asked.
"What are you talking about?" my heart jumped badly.
"Harry said you cried out of the blue yesterday and started saying strange things and ..."
"Harry said?" Hermione narrowed her eyes unkindly.
"What else did Harry tell you? Huh?"
"Hermione, what are you doing?" Ron was taken aback, clearly not expecting such a tone.
"Nothing!" the girl snapped angrily.
"It's just that I'm not very pleased that you wash my bones behind my back. Got it?" Hermione spat those words out so violently that Ron snapped into place. "Are you out of your mind?" the guy's eyebrows went up.
"We wash the bones? Yes, you know, we take care of you. You should be pleased that you are dear to us and ..." Hermione closed her eyes wearily.
This is approximately what she said recently to Malfoy. "Normal people are pleased when they are taken care of." What did he do to her during these endless days? The girl looked into the eyes of her friend. They reflected confusion and resentment.
"Oh, Ron .." Hermione rushed to the boy, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I just got scared for Harry and ... I don't know how to explain. Just trust me. I didn't mean to offend you. I really I love you. Really. You are the most dear to me. " Ron pulled the girl to him and, awkwardly hugging, began stroking her hair.
"It's okay. Don't be upset. I'm not offended."
"Thank you." Hermione took a step back and looked down.
"Hey!" Ron took her chin.
"Are you hiding anything?"
"Not!" Hermione tried to look him in the eye as honestly as possible.
"Why are you scared for Harry?" The girl took a step back and turned to the window.
"Ron, this is a war. Implicit, incomprehensible, invisible. I was just scared of what might happen. Harry ... How are we going to be without him?"
"We won't be without him," Ron said not very confidently.
The girl chuckled. There was silence. Two students with head badges in school robes silently looked out the window at the running landscape.
"I'm scared too," Ron said suddenly.
"Harry has changed a lot. Sometimes I don't understand what he's talking about, what he wants. I'm also afraid that he will do something stupid. He'll kill Malfoy, for example." Ron chuckled.
"Ron, don't joke like that," Hermione asked.
"Come on," the young man tried to smile. "You say the Weasel doesn't deserve this? Sirius died because of him. Harry would never forgive him for that."
"Sirius did not die because of him, but because of his father."
"What's the difference?"
"Do you think not?"
"I think yes." Ron pushed off the glass and nodded his head in the direction they were going.
Hermione walked down the hallway without looking at him. Listening to the sound of wheels, the girl reflected on the words of her friend. Yes! This is exactly what it looked like. The son is responsible for his father. He's exactly the same. This is exactly what she would have thought, if the scene had not risen before her eyes: a handsome man slaps a young man surprisingly similar to him in the face. "My son is a strange man." The same man drops words thoughtfully into the darkness outside the window. Hermione would hate Draco Malfoy as much as Ron did. The only problem is that there was a day in her life that made her world turn upside down and look at Draco Malfoy with different eyes. Not! Hermione would never say that they were wrong these six years, considering Malfoy a vile bastard. They were right. He was just that. But real life suddenly turned out to be much more complicated and had much more shades than the usual ones: black and white. It turned out that life also has a gray color. Draco Malfoy's eye color. He really was arrogant, cruel and selfish, used to humiliate, hurt, make him dance to his tune. But that was just the tip of the iceberg. In one day, Hermione had a chance to see with at least one eye what is behind this mask of indifference and neglect. The discovery was shocking. Hermione thought about it all the time. It was just that ... a man appeared under the mask. Yes, unusual, with inverted values, but ... a man. And a person cannot be cruel by himself. There is a reason for everything in the world. Even Tom Redll became such a monster because the closest person abandoned him. The father abandoned his unborn child. What could you expect from a boy suffering in an orphanage? Acknowledgments? Kindness? Heartiness? Where could he get them if he had never seen any of these manifestations. Harry. He grew up in a terrible family, his childhood was a nightmare. Was Harry a kind and gentle boy? Show at least one who will confirm these words. Up to thirteen, maybe. And then ... No! Harry could be cruel and angry too. Another thing is that he lacked imagination for sophisticated cruelty. His cruelty was straightforward and expressed in outbursts of anger and irritation towards loved ones. Such a gloomy statistic. And there was Malfoy. Where did he learn to love, sympathy, tenderness? For several hours in his house, Hermione realized that they simply did not know such words, let alone feelings. There was Narcissa, but this controversial woman Hermione could not understand and describe. In addition, apparently, her closeness with her son was so new and fresh that it could hardly have a strong influence on his upbringing. How could she judge Draco Malfoy now? He evoked sympathy and pity. And in light of the promise made to Dumbledore ... Hermione couldn't agree with Ron. Outwardly, it should, so that no one noticed anything, first of all, Malfoy himself, but in the soul ... In the soul, irreversible changes have already begun to occur. The girl opened the door to the adjacent corridor, and an unimaginable noise immediately reached her ears. She took a couple more steps, and the source of the noise was revealed. In the middle of the cramped corridor, two boy figures clashed. They fought desperately and in silence, and next to them a flock of girls screamed and wailed.
"Ten balls with ..." Ron began loudly and stopped short, realizing the stupidity of his phrase - freshmen who had not yet belonged to any of the faculties were fighting. But it was not there, Ronald Weasley will not be confused by such trifles ... - they will be removed from the faculty, to which each of you will fall.
No reaction. Ron pushed Hermione away and grabbed one of the boys by the collar, pulling him away from the enemy. It had no effect. Hermione hurried to help. She grabbed the second boy by the shoulders, who managed to get to his feet. The boy began to struggle desperately, and the girl had to shake him properly. "What's going on here?" in the tone of Professor McGonagall she addressed the fighters. The frail, dark-haired boy that Ron was holding stopped struggling and frowned. But he said nothing. But the red-haired tomboy seized the moment and escaped from Hermione's hands. He rushed forward, trying to kick the opponent. Ron pulled out his wand with a lightning speed and directed it at the insolent man.
"One more step and I'll turn you into a ferret."
The boy froze. Yes, and it was from what. Hermione looked at Ron as if she saw her for the first time. No, in front of her was not that awkward lanky boy who always spoke nonsense and loved chocolate frogs. Ronald Patrick Weasley's voice sounded with such calm determination that Hermione did not even think of reminding him not to use the wand outside of school. Moreover, the boys were impressed by his words. Ron waited for an objection. They did not follow, and he let go of the hood of the dark-haired boy's jacket.
"Now answer that you didn't share."
"He started first," the redhead responded immediately. Hermione and Ron looked at the other boy. Blood flowed from his nose, which he periodically wiped away ... silently.
"Hey! Can you talk?" Ron asked the boy.
"I can," he grunted in response.
"Well, what are you standing there for?" Ron got angry.
"Tell me." Hermione was about to taunt her friend, but said nothing. Shouldn't have discredited the headman in the eyes of the junior students.
"I won't tell you anything," the boy got angry. Ron turned to face the redhead.
"What did you fight about?" He also frowned.
"So-a-ak," stretched Ron, "are we going to play in silence? Great. We are leaving now, and if we see you close to each other again, the faculty will miss a hundred points when we arrive at school, and you will have your own classmates turn their heads away."
The boys nodded at random.
"Great!" Ron announced and looked at Hermione.
The girl nodded, and the two heads continued on their way. Entering the next hallway, Hermione turned to her friend.
"It was great, Ron. Very eloquent. Especially about the ferret. At this rate, you will soon catch up with Snape in ferocity."
If she expected a smile, she was disappointed. Ron was thinking hard about something.
"Do you think they'll listen?"
"Of course not!" confirmed his fears Hermione. "We'll have to really take points off of them more than once. So hopefully none of them will be added to Gryffindor."
"You shouldn't have hoped," Ron said resignedly.
"Why?"
"Gryffindor and Slytherin. Bet?"
"Why do you think so?" the girl asked again.
"Hermione, history repeats itself. You saw them. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, slightly modified."
"Come on," Hermione chuckled nervously. "Hogwarts can't be so lucky all the time."
"Black is Gryffindor," Ron said confidently.
"Do you think?"
"Yeah. Red doesn't inspire confidence."
Hermione chuckled. This phrase sounded too comical from the lips of Ron. After a minute, Ron himself understood the meaning of what was said and also laughed. They made the further journey, occasionally giggling, and remembering their trip on this train six years ago. The third car was crowded: the heads of all faculties crowded here. A smile froze on Hermione's face. Calm down, everything is fine. So what if he will be here? The girl, smiling as happily as possible, approached the group of students.
"Hello everyone!"
A chorus of voices answered in disagreement. Hermione glanced around at the audience, and her heart sank. The words escaped her lips before she realized she was saying it out loud.
"Why not all?" Hermione froze.
Now jokes will start pouring in and ...
"Exactly where is Ernie Macmillan?" Ron looked around the room.
Hermione exhaled. How nice. True, she noticed Ernie's absence only now, but still it turned out well.
"I'm here!" a breathless voice rang out, and the Head Hufflepuff appeared in the corridor.
"Everyone's here," began Ravenclaw Chief Padma Patil, "The safety rules need to be taught to freshmen."
Hermione noticed a stack of sheets of paper in Padma's hands.
"Wait. Where's Malfoy?" Ernie turned to Pansy Parkinson, who was standing a little to the side.
Hermione's heart sank. And she looked expectantly at the Slytherin head. Pansy raised a slender eyebrow and replied lazily:
"Macmillan, take it easy. I'll hand it over to him."
"But where is he himself?"
"Are you so bored? I'll pass that on too. I'm afraid Draco will hardly appreciate your impulse." Ernie opened his mouth to say something.
"Let's calm down already. It was not enough to start the school year with a skirmish. Padma, give her everything for Malfoy. Let them figure it out." put in Hermione.
"Yes, please!" Hermione took the outstretched sheets of paper and stared blankly at the straight lines.
"Something happened! Something has happened!"
The importunate thought drilled into his brain. Something happened to him, otherwise how to explain the fact that he still has not caught her eye. Draco Malfoy has always been in the spotlight, and today ... Did Lucius do something to him? The girl felt that her head began to hurt unbearably. The next hour passed in a daze. Hermione automatically followed Ron from one car to another and explained something to the freshmen. Finally this torture ended and they headed towards their compartment.
"Freedom!" Ron said reverently. "At least for an hour."
Hermione, muttering something, entered the compartment. Everything was the same there. Harry dozed by the window, leaning back in his seat. Ginny was sitting next to him, her legs tucked under her, absentmindedly fiddling with the watch on her arm, reading a magazine. Ginny lifted her head at their appearance and, smiling, asked in a whisper:
"How did everything go?"
"Disgusting," Ron replied in a similar whisper.
"You don't have to whisper," Harry said, "I am awake." Ron walked over to Harry and kicked his legs from the opposite seat. Harry shook himself and grabbed the window frame with one hand and Ginny's shoulder with the other to keep from falling off the seat.
"**8*8!" Ginny screamed, "Harry, you nearly broke my shoulder!"
"Sorry," Harry said confusedly and tried to pat Ginny on the shoulder, completely confused and kicked the laughing Ron on the leg.
"It's okay," Ginny grumbled, moving away from her just in case.
"Hermione, what's wrong with you?" She finally noticed her friend's unusual pallor. Harry and Ron immediately stopped fussing and looked in the same direction.
"It's okay," Hermione tried to smile as she sat down next to Ron.
"My head just hurts. It will pass now." The next hour dragged on endlessly. Harry and Ron began to play magic chess, Ginny read her magazine, and Hermione watched the surroundings running past the window over Ron's red hair. The headache gradually relieved, but anxiety squeezed my heart more and more.
"Something's missing," Ron said suddenly.
Hermione looked at him in surprise, and Ginny looked up from her reading as well. Harry nodded thoughtfully in agreement. The girls looked at each other in bewilderment. Suddenly the boys started up and snapped their fingers at the same time and issued:
"Malfoy!"
Hermione and Ginny looked at each other again. It was like a consultation of doctors in a particularly difficult case. The girls came to a consensus.
"Book two places at St. Mungo's?" Ginny asked with a questioning look at Hermione. She nodded in agreement.
"Yes, it really will take a couple of years to persuade Malfoy to visit them there. Well, nothing. We can handle it."
"No, seriously," Ron looked at Harry closely.
"Yes, this is the first time he didn't find us on the train. Can you imagine how much time he spends on this every year?" answered Harry.
"Luckily, he's tired of it," Ginny said.
"Hopefully. Or worse cooking."
"By the way, maybe he's not there at all? He didn't come to the prefects meeting. Maybe he fell off his broomstick in the summer and broke his neck?" Ron said dreamily.
Hermione did not even bother to pull him back, nor did she try to end this conversation. It's time to get used to the fact that any topic sooner or later touches a Slytherin.
"Hardly, it flies too well."
"Harry!" Ron was indignant.
"Just because I hate him doesn't mean I can't recognize his skills. The enemy shouldn't be underestimated. Malfoy flies really well," Harry said angrily. Hermione looked into his darkened eyes and lowered her head. There was no need to agree to this adventure. Oh, you didn't have to.
"Let's talk about something nicer," Ginny pleaded. Hermione looked at the girl. Here she is there too. After a while, Ron, having taken a solemn oath with Ginny to watch over Harry so that he did not touch the pieces on the board, announced to Hermione that they must regularly fulfill their duties. Hermione looked up from her thoughts and glanced at her watch. It was time for the second control meeting of the elders. The girl got up and silently followed Ron. The same corridors, the same faces ... In the third car, several people were talking idly. Ron and Hermione approached the other prefects. Ron immediately got involved in the discussion of the Quidditch championship, and Hermione silently leaned against the wall, waiting for the meeting to begin. She tried to ignore the sidelong glances. The most ardent activist today was quieter than water, below the grass. Pansy Parkinson appeared in the hallway. One. Although Hermione was not at all surprised. Pansy stopped a little to one side and studied her manicure carefully. Hermione wondered once again why the Slytherins are so pretty? It's a shame to admit, but they were all like a match. Millicent Bulstrode doesn't count. Perhaps the fact is that they are all from purebred families. Well, now she has already contracted the branded insanity from Malfoy. Pansy lifted her head, glanced lazily over the faces of the students, and suddenly smiled at someone behind Hermione. Hermione immediately turned around and froze. Draco Malfoy himself was standing half a meter away from her. How did he manage to approach so silently? Hermione looked into his face. He was very pale, even paler than usual, but, most importantly, he was alive. Malfoy glanced at Hermione indifferently and smiled slightly at Pansy. Then he leaned against the wall and said lazily:
"Has the discussion of global issues already ended or has not begun yet?"
"He's here," Ron muttered.
"Oh, Weasley, what an observation," drawled Malfoy.
"How good it was without him," Ron shared with Hermione.
"Nothing good lasts forever," Malfoy remarked philosophically.
"I haven't spoken to you."
"And I am not talking to you now."
"Yes, and to whom are you saying this?" Ron started to get turned on, his ears turned pink.
"Ron," Hermione tugged warningly at her friend's sleeve, "please."
"So!" said Padma. "I propose to quickly state who wants what - well, were there any riots, violations - and cheerfully go about their business." Malfoy lightly pushed his shoulder off the wall and headed towards Hermione. The girl looked up in surprise and crept up. But ... it turns out he was heading towards Pansy and squeezed past Hermione without even hitting her, without even looking. Like an empty space. Hermione followed him with surprise. This was unusual even for the earlier Malfoy. Previously, he never passed by in silence. At least he would say disgusting for decency. And Malfoy caught up with Ron and hit him hard with his shoulder. Well, at least something remained the same.
"Malfoy!" growled Ron, but Padma Patil deftly grabbed his sleeve and kept the conflict from escalating.
Hermione glared at the Slytherin. He, as if nothing had happened, stopped next to Pansy, and they, not giving a damn about the discussion of problems, began to talk about something. Hermione caught herself thinking that she hadn't noticed Malfoy's ease of interacting with Slytherins before. No snobbery, no disdain. Pansy asked about something, and he, with a slight shrug, quietly answered something. There was a discussion of incidents all around, and Hermione surreptitiously watched the Slytherin prefects. Pansy asked again, and Malfoy waved his hand vaguely. Pansy caught his hand and pulled the sleeve of his robe up. There was a thick bandage under the sleeve. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. So she didn't overestimate Lucius. He really was capable of a lot. Malfoy pulled up his sleeve and said something to Pansy in exasperation. The girl looked at him carefully, but said nothing. Hermione turned away abruptly and just in time. Draco Malfoy threw up his head and looked at the Gryffindor with a long, attentive look, but Hermione could not see it anymore, because Ron was talking about the freshmen fight, and she began to actively participate in the presentation of events. It was over in a few minutes. Hermione leaned against the wall, letting people in. Ron was talking with Ernie about something else, and the girl was waiting for him. Draco Malfoy was the last to pass by. Before that, Hermione hadn't bothered at all about the width of the Hogwarts Express corridor, but now ... The smell of the Slytherin's eau de toilette reminded too vividly of a picture that was completely out of place here. Hermione pressed even harder against the wall, and he walked by impersonally and indifferently. The girl was amazed. After all, he remembered everything, but did not give himself away. She looked at his retreating back. How difficult it is. Ron finally touched her shoulder and said:
"Are we going?" Hermione nodded and followed him.
It so happened that they were following Malfoy. Apparently his compartment was somewhere in their direction.
"And I was still worried that Malfoy didn't visit us?"
"Ron, you don't just need to tell Harry about the fight. He's not very fond of him anyway. Don't exacerbate it. Huh?" Ron looked at his friend in surprise, but said nothing.
The Slytherin opened the door to the next car and stopped. Ron and Hermione closed the distance to him. Malfoy suddenly took a step forward. The Gryffindors, exchanging glances, followed. The headman of Slytherin was acting very strangely. Running into the corridor, they understood the reason for his confusion. Old acquaintances. The same two boys fought with the same frenzy in the corridor. Malfoy had already reached them. He deftly caught the red-haired boy by the collar and pulled sharply away from the enemy. The boy lost his balance and, grabbing the neck of his sweater, which squeezed his throat, began to fall backwards.
"Malfoy, are you crazy?" exclaimed Hermione.
"You will strangle him!" The Slytherin didn't even wave his ear. The black-haired boy looked at his unexpected savior with a mixture of delight and horror on his face. Malfoy suddenly let go of the redhead, and he crashed to the floor.
"Your hearing is apparently bad," Draco Malfoy stated calmly. Hermione froze. It seemed to her that Malfoy was catching the crows throughout the meeting, but he, it turns out, heard his story with Ron. The red-haired boy glared at the head of Slytherin, but said nothing, only showed his fist to the black-haired one.
"Three minutes, go to different cars. Time has passed."
"You can't do anything to us," said the redhead.
"Are you sure?" Malfoy inquired coldly.
"My dad ..." began the redhead, but stopped short under the icy gaze.
"Your dad will get you home in a matchbox if you don't disappear from here within… two minutes already," Malfoy said in a low voice, glancing at his watch. The red-haired glanced angrily, but, to Hermione's surprise, turned around and, pulling things out of the compartment, squeezed past them in the direction of the next car. The black-haired boy, out of harm's way, also disappeared from the corridor:
"What, Malfoy, did you remember yourself in childhood?" Only my dad will know, but he will ... " Ron portrayed the voice of Draco Malfoy of the first or second year in a very similar way. The Slytherin turned slowly. Hermione froze and grabbed Ron by the sleeve. It is not known why. It seems that Ron himself, after looking into Malfoy's face, changed his mind about getting involved in a fight.
"Weasley," the Slytherin began barely audibly.
There was so much poison in this quiet address that Hermione was horrified to continue. She even found it difficult to imagine what Malfoy was capable of now. One thing is clear, Ron will remember this for a long time. But what Draco Malfoy wanted to say remained a mystery, because Blaise Zabini squeezed past the Gryffindors, pushing Ron hard with her shoulder.
"Draco!" her voice was agitated. "What's with Brand? I haven't seen him like this since ..." She stopped, apparently seeing something in Malfoy's face. "What happened here?" Blaise demanded, turning to the Gryffindors.
"Ask your buddy," Ron replied venomously. Malfoy slowly pulled his wand out of his pocket. Ron frowned and did the same. Hermione breathed out in horror.
"Ron! Malfoy! Have you lost your mind? There was a lack of a magical duel. An example of ideal idiots performed by two prefects in a freshman carriage."
Zabini looked from Hermione to Malfoy.
"Draco, you are not going to mess with this semblance of a wizard," this kind girl nodded towards Ron, covering Malfoy's hand with hers. The young man looked at her and after a moment nodded.
"You're right. You shouldn't screw up the centuries-old mystery of a duel about this…"
"Malfoy, I'm not that scrupulous today," Ron reached down to the handle.
"Enough," Hermione snapped, grabbing her wand.
"I'm going to stun everyone here with a complex step, and freshmen will have fun jumping over you all the way to Hogwarts." She said this while looking at Malfoy. Naturally, everyone understood that she would not do anything of the kind, but such a flash performed by the judicious Hermione Granger made an impression even on the Slytherins. Well, at least on Zabini. Malfoy, it seems, in general, directed all his forces to avoid committing the murder. Blaise Zabini, turning away from Hermione, pulled Malfoy down the corridor in the direction he had been heading to. He, to the surprise of everyone present, followed Zabini, removing his wand as he walked. Ron turned to Hermione.
"Why did you stop me?" "Ron," Hermione said wearily,
"Malfoy will die of joy if you get kicked out of school for illegally using magic outside of Hogwarts."
"If I knew he was going to die for sure, I would risk it." Hermione raised her eyes to the ceiling and walked slowly down the corridor. She deliberately delayed so as not to catch up with the Slytherins.
"By the way, did you think Malfoy and Zabini knew this redhead?" Ron asked.
"It seemed. Moreover, she called him by name. Okay, we'll get to Hogwarts, we'll find out."
Draco Malfoy walked down the hallway of the Hogwarts Express and was stubbornly silent. Blaise tried several times to establish a dialogue ... It did not work. The girl knew from experience that if Malfoy did not want to tell something, then all inquiries about information content would be equal to interviewing the wall. Blaise sighed wearily, and they spent the rest of the way in silence. Entering the compartment, Draco stopped in the middle and stared out the window, swaying slightly in time with the movement of the train. Blaise sat down on the seat and studied his tense back.
"When will this end?" the girl thought in despair.
Draco turned around, as if sensing her thoughts, and said in an even voice:
"Brand started a fight in the carriage. He was warned that this should not happen again. He did not obey. I explained to him that he was wrong." Blaise sighed and leaned back in her seat, looking out the window.
"I won't even ask how you explained this to him. I haven't seen him cry since the death of his mother."
"Blaise, he was wrong," Draco repeated stubbornly.
He could not admit that this spoiled boy terribly reminded him of himself at eleven. How did his trip to Hogwarts begin? Right. From a fight with Potter. But then he extended the hand of friendship to this universal favorite. Nobody explained to him how it was done, he never had friends whom he chose for himself. Only children from purebred families with whom he communicated from birth. And then Potter appeared. Draco unconsciously offered him friendship. Although even then, behind the words of my father that Harry Potter must be respected, heard something completely different. Then he already felt: this is the enemy. But somehow he held out his hand. This was the first unconscious protest. It's not his fault that, having absorbed snobbery and contempt for poverty since childhood, he insulted this red-haired idiot. In truth, Draco felt it beneath his dignity to even think about the Weasleys. But it so happened that he began to hate Ron furiously, because he could not understand why this awkward beggar was better than him, the only descendant of a purebred family.
Draco sank wearily into the seat of the carriage and, leaning his elbow on the window frame, leaned his lips against his clenched fist.
Six years ago, Harry Potter threw the proposed friendship in his face. Draco grinned evilly. Then for the first time he made a choice in this struggle: for or against everyone's favorite. Draco objected. Every year, he hated him more and more, because the damn Potter had everything that Draco himself did not have. He never admits it out loud. But Draco himself was used to telling only the truth from early childhood. Lying to yourself is a weakness. Draco Malfoy always tried to fight against weaknesses.
The father was very happy with his son's hatred of the Gryffindor and diligently incited it, surreptitiously pointing out Draco's mistakes and using the damn Boy-Who-Lived as an example. Especially when it comes to Quidditch. In five years of playing against Potter, Draco has never won a single fight. The young man narrowed his eyes. He hated to lose, he could not always contain himself. In the fifth year, his provocation resulted in Potter's disqualification. It was mean, but nice. Moral issues didn't bother young Malfoy much. He hated.
And then Draco began to realize that he did not want to follow the path that his father was drawing for him as the only alternative. He did not want. The young man was sure that he was not born a slave, but a master. He was not going to grovel and obey the idiotic orders of an amphibian who was out of his mind. And the more Draco Malfoy asserted his decision, the more he ... hated Harry Potter. Well, there must be someone extreme! Potter was the most successful candidate. If he had stretched out his hand in this very train six years ago ... Everything would have been different. How? Draco didn't know. But that would not be the case. That's for sure. Friendship…
Thoughts jumped to Hermione Granger. They would have told him a week ago that he would think about this nerd, he would have thrown an avada in response. Well, or a crucio at worst. And now ... The thought made me chuckle.
Draco Malfoy's pragmatic mind didn't want to fit in such a reckless attachment. This strange girl, without thinking for a minute, rushed into the devil's den after a friend. Is friendship really like that? A quick revision of the list of closest acquaintances led to a disappointing result: no one would rush after him like that. What's the secret? Maybe it's not friendship, maybe they sleep together? The spoiled worldview tried to slip its own version. Draco almost bought it, only ... He sleeps with Blaise too. Would she rush after him who knows where? Draco turned his head and looked at a beautiful Slytherin woman reading a magazine. Delicate red hair streamed down her cheek. Blaise just at that moment raised a graceful hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. The perfect girl. Every gesture, every look - everything is thought out to the smallest detail. Perfect wife. She is perhaps the only one to whom he could trust something. Something not very important. Because the image of an ideal wife did not fit in with the image of an ideal comrade in arms. Thoughts went back to the dark-haired Gryffindor. It's funny. Draco turned to the window. She hated him so passionately and so sincerely offered to provide first aid. This, too, did not fit in him head and therefore he remembered.
By the way, judging by her behavior, Dumbledore kept his promise. Draco didn't look very closely, but noted that she was acting as usual. Nervous, but maybe because of the freshmen incident. Watches him when he thinks he doesn't see. Well, so what? She has been doing this for six years. Draco always felt her gaze on him. You need to know the enemy by sight. Granger studied him. So ingenuous that sometimes it became funny. Today, as he passed by, the smell of her light perfume reached his sense of smell. The smell was still in his room. Blaise shook her heart out when she discovered that Narcissa had a completely different perfume. Draco frowned. He didn't like the train of thought at all.
The young man leaned back in his chair and remembered that crazy day. The shock when he, called a day earlier from the camp, angry with the whole world, appeared in his room. He did not warn anyone of his arrival. He wanted to be alone, to think. Aha! Happened. Now.
In his bedroom, behind his bed, on the floor, comfortably settled down ... Hermione Granger. At the first moment, Draco decided that something was wrong with his head. And then her desperate desire to prove something, explain, persuade. Ridiculous attempts to rush to save Potter.
Then everything happened as in a nightmare. The Great Amphibian's ingenious plan to increase the size of the Draco family ... The young man shuddered in disgust. Flight to Hogwarts, conversation with Dumbledore. In those minutes, he was desperately angry with Granger. Her ingenuous words, mixed with angry accusations, were confusing.
And then he, Dumbledore, Snape and a dozen selected Aurors were transported to a small clearing half a kilometer from the Malfoy ancestral castle. Closer it was dangerous.
Draco gripped Dumbledore's eyes, gripping tightly with the broom he had brought with him, hoping to convey the determination in his gaze to his frantically pounding heart. Again Dumbledore's persuasion. And his answer. Only Potter. And that's all.
As promised, he drew a plan of the dungeon and announced that he was going to the castle to check who was where. He didn't want Lucius or this one to be with Potter at all… Although he didn't give a damn about that. A crazy thought flashed through. Even Lucius ... but Draco Malfoy strangled her to the core. Something absorbed from childhood did not allow this dream to spread its wings.
One of the Aurors grumbled something about the trap. Draco didn't even look back at the speaker. Snape and Dumbledore believed. The rest didn't give a damn.
"I'll go by the fireplace, return by air," he said shortly and turned to leave.
"Why not immediately by air?" came a voice from the group of Aurors.
"I want to play it safe."
"Some kind of idiocy. They made a paranoid out of a child," answered the same voice. Draco gave the speaker a murderous look, and no longer reacted to the "child."
"Good luck Draco," Dumbledore put his hand on his shoulder. Draco turned around in surprise. In his life, there were practically no such strange manifestations of feelings, and the young man was slightly confused. He nodded and quietly replied:
"And you."
"I'll walk you around for a bit," Snape volunteered. Draco didn't mind. He ... was afraid of what might happen. Snape, who always treated him well, was perhaps the best company. They walked quickly towards the castle.
"How is Narcissa?" Snape asked suddenly and, seeing the young man's puzzled look, added. "I suppose she's back at the castle. You're not doing this for Potter, really."
"Not for Potter. That's for sure," Draco chuckled. "Narcissa is fine. Thanks."
"But does it have to do with her?" Draco nodded silently; Snape asked nothing more.
They reached the edge of the forest and Draco looked back.
"Then I'll go alone." Snape squeezed his shoulder tightly and said:
"I'll be looking forward to you, Draco. Be careful." The young man nodded.
"You made the right decision," Snape said suddenly. "Narcissa is the only woman alive today who is worth risking her head over her." Snape took a step back, and Draco turned and walked quickly towards the transportation booth with a fireplace, nestled against the outer walls. Snape's words puzzled him.
"The only one." Draco noticed that Snape was in contact with his mother. But the young man had paid too little attention to Narcissus before, so he overlooked something important. "The only one living now." This is generally a charade. There was no time to reflect on his dean's thoughts, so Draco leaned his broom against the wall and walked over to the fireplace. For several minutes he tried to calm down ... It didn't matter.
A pinch of powder, name your room. And that's all ... That's just something vaguely worried. Too simple, too smooth. This does not happen in life.
That something was wrong, Draco sensed a moment before arriving in the room. He underestimated his father. Naturally, instead of the force field, he had to impose additional protection on the castle. Why hadn't Draco thought about this earlier? Fucking planner! Only in Gryffindor with such brains is there a direct road. Hoping that his room would be bypassed? Now! They probably started with her!
Graceful and perverse. Anyone who tries to enter the house through the fireplace will be welcomed with a cutting spell. It was applied just at the level of the face. Subtle, what can we say. Only the sixth sense and reaction of the Seeker saved the last Malfoy offspring's face in general and eyesight in particular. Draco managed to group himself at the very last moment and covered his head with his hands. A flash of pain - and such a dear and soft carpet on the floor took him into its arms. For a couple of minutes Draco lay motionless, his eyes closed and listening to his body, trying to understand what had suffered, apart from his hands. The room was quiet. So this cute spell wasn't backed up with an alarm. And why would she if she cuts off a person's head? Nice. Draco slowly opened his eyes to find himself curled up on the floor. From the outside, it was probably funny and touching, only a pool of blood spoiled the picture. The young man looked down at his hands. On the outside of the wrist, there were four deep wounds on each hand. It's good from the outside. Without the help of a magic wand, he would hardly have been able to stop the bleeding, which would have been five times stronger than it is now. Draco spread his arms out to the sides and sat down on the floor. So. We proceed further.
It took a couple of seconds to open Narcissa.
Pale face, frightened look. She didn't say anything, didn't ask about anything. She just rushed into the bathroom and emerged from it with the same notorious bowl and some kind of flasks.
Draco sank back to the floor and watched his mother quickly and deftly treat his wounds and apply tight bandages. It seems as if this aristocratic woman was born a sister of mercy.
"Thank you," Draco said and stood up to ring the bell. Narcissa followed him with a surprised look, but again did not ask anything. A few minutes later, a house elf appeared. The same. This guy's going to blow his mind, Draco thought, asking the elf about where his father and the Dark Lord were.
"In the library. And asked not to disturb, sir."
"Class. Exactly what is needed". Now let's act quickly. Send the elf away, order him to be silent. Summon the broom. Oh, how well the force field doesn't work. And then the khan's favorite broomstick of the latest model.
"Draco, can you explain what's going on?" finally Narcissa could not resist.
"It's okay, Mom. Nothing's happening."
"How do you fly with such hands?"
"On a broom,"
Draco winked sharply at his mother and straddled the emerging broom. Fast, silent, easy. Draco Malfoy, trying to ignore the pain in his hands and the hot blood soaked in the bandages, swiftly approached the group of people. He jumped deftly to the ground. All eyes turned to him.
"Order. There are three trolls in the dungeon. No one else. You have little time," he said quickly, looking at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore nodded and turned to the others. Draco seized the moment, bent down and plucked a bunch of grass.
Dumbledore was making a parting speech. Draco wasn't listening. He diligently wiped the blood off the handle of the broomstick, because he almost slipped off on landing, and still fly back.
"Draco," Snape said, "what's wrong with you?" The youth threw up his head. Carried away by the lesson, he did not notice that Dumbledore had finished his parting words, and everyone present was looking at him. The night was surprisingly starry and clear. In the reflections of the moonlight, the fair-haired youth diligently wiped his own blood from the shaft of his own broom. Calmly, coolly, not complaining.
"Madhouse!" the same Auror described the picture he saw.
Draco shrugged indifferently at Snape. It was stupid to answer. Snape gave him an odd look, but said nothing more. Dumbledore said:
"Fly Draco."
The young man nodded and, climbing onto the broom, kicked off the ground. And then there was a safe return to the room. Narcissa's disgruntled look and tearing off the bloody bandages. The whole first aid procedure is re-introduced. Draco Malfoy sat on the floor, listening intently to the darkness, as if expecting something. Time passed, everything was quiet. But Draco knew for sure that it was at this moment in the dungeon of his castle that the best Aurors were conducting an operation to save the damn hope of the wizarding world. And father and Lord are sitting in the library. Did you ask not to disturb? So we quietly figured it out. Draco chuckled nervously. An hour later, it became clear that everything was over. The castle was still plunged into darkness and silence. Nobody expected anything like this. Everything was calm.
"You need to sleep," Narcissa said quietly, sitting at the writing table and leafing out a book. And she did it so quickly that all hopes that she was reading died. She, too, was vaguely expecting something. Time passed, nothing happened, and, seeing that her son relaxed, she decided that the danger was over. The young man raised his head to her voice. He sat on the bed and studied the bedspread.
"Sorry, what?"
"Five in the morning. You need to sleep."
Narcissa stood up resolutely and approached her son's bed. The young man, determined not to argue, wearily stretched out on the bedspread. Narcissa sat down beside him and touched his cold fingers.
"Light the fire harder? You're cold."
"No. No need. It's okay!" Draco smiled slightly.
"You could use some rest, too." Narcissa smiled back and shook her head.
"Sleep, I'll sit with you." She stretched out her hand and removed light blond strands from her son's forehead.
"You've never done that before. I mean, you haven't sat by my bedside."
"I did," Narcissa smiled sadly, "you just don't remember it. At first you were too small, and then ... in those rare moments you were unconscious."
"Yeah," Draco echoed his mother's grin, "I'm a cheerful son. Not a problem."
"Sleep!" Narcissa stroked his cheek. Draco obediently closed his eyes and after a couple of minutes fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. This dreadful day is over. Narcissa sat for a while. She looked at her sleeping son and remembered the words spoken by the head of Gryffindor, Remus Lupine, almost twenty years ago: "Your child will be an amazing creature ... there will be a spark in him, and he will turn this stupid world upside down." Remus Lupine was right. Then Narcissa did not understand this, but now ... In a dream he is so serene, calm, very young. Just a beautiful young boy. In life he is not at all like that. Lupine was right. Draco is truly extraordinary. Narcissa bent down and kissed her son lightly on the forehead, eliciting a sleepy smile from him. The woman got up and returned to the room for the tapestry.
Time continued its rapid run.