'You have come here to make an exchange with us,' said the tallest demon.
And Draco heard himself speak. His voice was not his own voice, but the voice of a man much older. 'Yes, I have.'
'And do you know what this exchange entails?'
'I give you what you want,' the Draco-who-was-not-Draco said. 'And you give me the sword.'
'With this sword a man could work miracles,' said the demon.
'I have no interest in miracles,' said the Draco-who-was-not. 'I have an interest in power. I have been told such a sword will give me power. Is that the truth?'
'There is such a thing as too much power,' said the demon.
And the dream-Draco laughed. 'I don't believe that,' he said.
'You must at least believe that there is a natural balance to all things,' said the demon. 'For every profit in one thing, payment in some other thing. You will profit greatly by the use of this sword, but first it must be paid for.'
And Draco felt his hands — which seemed solid and real, hardly like dream-hands at all — go to his throat, and loosen the pin there, and he drew his cloak back and the shirt that was under it so that his chest was bare.
'Take your payment,' he said.
The demon reached out its spatulated hand, and flexed its long fingers. Then, like a boxer punching his way through a flimsy cardboard wall, the demon plunged its hand into Draco's chest. The agony was immediate and intense and terrible, but it lasted only a moment. Draco screamed, and the demon drew its hand back. It was clutching something in its blood-streaked fingers — something that glowered and flickered weakly like candlelight through a screen.
The demon smiled. Its incisors were long and sharp and pointed.
'The sword is yours,' it said. 'Hell is now satisfied.'
'Malfoy! Malfoy! Wake up!'
Someone had him by the shoulder and was shaking him. He twisted away, covering his face with his arms. He was vaguely aware of someone screaming. There were hands tugging at his arms, trying to pull them away from his face. 'Wake up!' said the voice again, despairingly, and then, 'Malfoy, please!'
He opened his eyes. The screaming stopped, and it was suddenly, blessedly quiet. That was me screaming, Draco realized. That was me.
It was dark in the bedroom. The only light was silver moonlight pouring through the window: it illuminated the girl leaning over him, her anxious, dark eyes and long, curling hair. In the half-dark, she looked like-
'Hermione?' he whispered, only half awake.
'No, it's Ginny.'
He drew his arms away from his face slowly. 'Of course,' he said.
'You wouldn't be her. She calls me by my first name.' He blinked and stared at her. 'What are you doing in here?'
'What am I doing in here?' echoed Ginny irritably. 'You were screaming like a banshee, that's what I'm doing in here. I thought someone was murdering you. Look where you are, Malfoy.'
Draco sat up and looked around him in surprise. He was no longer on the bed but half-lying on the floor, in a welter of tangled bedsheets. He didn't remember falling off the bed, but then he didn't remember screaming either. What he did remember was his dream. He sucked in breath through his teeth, remembering the pain, the demon's hand punching through his chest. The heat. The sword.
When Ginny spoke again, her voice was uncertain. 'Malfoy…'
'What?'
'You're bleeding.'
Startled, he glanced down and saw, on the front of his shirt, just over his heart, a spreading red stain the size of a dinner plate. Draco put his hand to the stain and his fingers came away red. Not old blood, but new.
He looked up at Ginny. 'Get Harry,' he said hoarsely.
Ginny scrambled to her feet and headed for the door.
Halfway there, Draco called out to her. 'Wait!'
She turned around. He was kneeling amid the blankets. He had taken his shirt off and was looking down at his chest, which was quite a bit paler than the rest of him in the silver light. It was also completely unmarked; there was no wound there at all. 'Never mind,' he said. 'It looks like I?m all right after all.'
'Was that…not your blood?' she said, bewildered.
He looked up at Ginny, and the moonlight struck cold sparks from his silver eyes. 'I don't know. But I think I'm beginning to have an idea. And I'm not liking it much.'
'Does it have to do with your nightmare?'
'Yes,' he said, then shook his head. 'I mean, no. I mean, I?m not sure it was a nightmare. I think it was a flashback. Or maybe a delusion. Or maybe I had a flashback in the middle of a delusion. Is that possible?'
Ginny could feel her eyes widening. 'I should go get Harry,' she said, but Draco shook his head.
'Don't bother Potter,' he said. 'Just sit here with me for a minute.'
