visit?'
'Maybe taunting is the point of this visit,' said Draco equably. 'It's certainly the fun part. Although possibly not from where you're sitting. Tell me a little more about how betrayed you feel, why don't you? The radiant bonds of our friendship shattered, and all that.
Tell me how much you'll miss me.'
'I can't,' Harry said. 'I don?t get to the part of Arithmancy where we cover numbers so small they don't exist until next year.'
'That is,' Draco said, 'assuming that for you, there is a next year. Or even a next week. Lets face it, Potter, even the concept of tonight isn't looking like one you're going to be having any close acquaintance with.'
Harry's chains rattled as he leaned back against the wall with an exasperated sigh. 'Look, what do you want, Malfoy?'
'What do I want? World peace, Potter. A suede coat that won't get ruined in the rain. A broomstick that'll do Mach Two. Oh, and some of your blood.'
'My blood?'
Draco turned and looked over the shoulder at one of the faceless gray-robed guards. 'Unchain his wrist,' he said, and as the guard reached forward towards Harry, Draco grinned again. 'His left wrist.'
Hermione felt her heart sink down into her stomach. That smile…she hadn?t seen that kind of smile on Dracos face in months. It was a nasty sort of childish, amused smile, the same smile he had smiled third year when he?d stopped in the hall to tell her that her teeth were so big, the Druids could have used them for places of worship, and all the Slytherins had laughed.
She wondered if they would laugh now. Probably.
She couldn?t imagine how Harry retained such an indifferent expression as the guard reached forward and none too gently, did something to his left wrist that freed it from the cuff. If it were her, she would have screamed at Draco, kicked at him with her feet. She wanted to do that now, just as she wanted to rush over and put her hands on his shoulders and force him to promise her that he was only pretending.
As the guards unfastened Harry, Draco reached forward and slid his hand into Harrys shirt pocket. When he removed it, he was holding Harrys pocketknife. He glanced over at the guard, and the guard handed over Harrys now-freed wrist as impersonally as if it were a pencil. Harry didn?t struggle or try to get away, just watched Draco through narrowed green eyes as Draco flicked the blade of the knife open and tested its edge with a finger.
Beside her, Hermione felt Ron tense, and she gripped his arm hard.
Draco turned Harrys hand over in his grip so that it rested palm-up, and placed the edge of the blade against the inside of Harrys wrist. 'Do you remember,' he said, still conversationally, 'when you sliced open my hand with this?'
'I did it to save your life,' said Harry. He didn?t move, but Hermione, so close to him she could see the blood pounding in the pulse at his throat, felt a slow and sickening fear sweep over her.
How could Harry be so still, so self-possessed? She knew he wasn?t calm — she could see the sweat darkening the back of his shirt, plastering his dark hair to his neck. But he didn?t change expression. He learned that from Draco, she thought.
Draco glanced down, and she saw his eyes flash. 'Which you would have done for anyone.'
'I wouldn?t share my blood with just anyone.'
'Oh, really?' Dracos voice dripped sarcasm and something else. 'I bet you wish you?d let me die when you had the chance.'
'No,' said Harry, quietly but with conviction. 'No. I?d do the same thing again.'
Dracos hand where it held the knife jerked almost imperceptibly.
Hermione, trying desperately not to move, saw his hands, and her heart skipped a beat. Dracos hands had always been immaculate, well-groomed, the nails perfect half-moons. Now they were bitten down to the bloody quick and there were deep indents on his palm where, perhaps, his nails had been driven in. What has he done?
What has been done to him?
Draco recovered himself. 'Nice try, Potter, but its a little too late to suck up to me. Anyway, I thought you had more spine than that.'
'Drop dead, Malfoy.'
'Already have done, mate.'
'If at first you don't succeed,' said Harry shortly, 'try again.'
Draco pursed his lips and whistled. 'Nice comeback. Taking lessons from those more clever than you, Potter? Sirius giving you pointers?'
Harry laughed. It was such an unexpected sound that Hermione nearly jumped. Dracos eyes flew wide. 'Whats so funny, Potter?'
'I was just wondering,' said Harry, 'what Sirius would say if he knew what you were doing with his knife right now.'
This time, Draco did jump, and the edge of the knife bit down into Harrys arm. Draco yanked the knife back as blood sprang up around the edges of the cut, and spilled over, splattering the floor.
One of the gray-robed servants darted forward and pressed a square of cloth over the bleeding cut. Within a moment, it was soaked in scarlet. The cloth was retracted, and the servant retreated, backing towards Slytherin, who held out a hand for it.
Hermione averted her gaze, nauseated. What is he going to do with Harrys blood?
Harry apparently had no such concerns. He was ignoring his bleeding arm, looking at Draco instead, and the look on his face was awful. Hermione thought that if Harry ever looked at her like that, she would want to die.
