Draco Dormiens

Chapter Eleven: Of Magids and Mirrors

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," said Harry, and, with surprising gentleness, laid Salazar Slytherin's sword in the crook of Draco's arm.

Draco closed his hand around it. "Thanks, Potter," he said, with visible effort.

Sirius, Harry and Hermione exchanged worried looks. Leaving Harry and Hermione sitting on either side of Draco, Sirius got up and walked over to the flying car. The Weasley brothers had just finished stuffing the unconscious Lucius Malfoy headfirst into the boot, and were looking at each other in a satisfied manner.

"Hallo, Sirius," said Ron as he approached. "We put Lucius in the back, like you said."

"Thanks," said Sirius. "But he isn't the Malfoy I'm concerned about at the moment."

Fred shook his head. "I never thought I'd feel sorry for Draco Malfoy," he said. "But I kind of do now. Mind, I still don't like him. But his own father trying to kill him like that..." Fred shuddered. "Makes me feel lucky by comparison."

"You are lucky," said Sirius shortly.

Ron was biting his lower lip. "Was Lucius really trying to kill him?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," said Sirius. "Nearly succeeded, too. And might still, if we don't get Draco back to Hogwarts soon. He's dying."

George dropped the car keys. "Dying?" he echoed, staring at Sirius in shock.

"Get the car ready," said Sirius shortly, and walked back to Draco. He knelt down next to him and said, "Can you walk?"

Draco seemed to be giving this consideration. Then he said, with a faint look of surprise, "Actually. No."

Hermione looked as if she were going to burst into tears, but didn't.

"Never mind," said Sirius roughly, bent down, and picked Draco up as if he weighed no more than a child might, not a nearly full-grown adult. As he lifted him, the sword fell out of Draco's grasp and thudded to the ground.

Harry picked it up and held it out to Sirius, who reached out his free hand and took it by the hilt.

And dropped it again, immediately, as if he had been burned.

When he spoke again, it was in an oddly constrained voice. "Harry. You take the sword."

"Okay," said Harry, looking surprised.

"And don't let anyone else touch it," said Sirius, and started walking with Draco back to the car.

"What was that about?" asked Hermione wonderingly.

But Harry wasn't paying attention. Looking after Sirius and Draco, he said, in a tight voice, "I had forgotten how strong Sirius is."

She turned and looked at Harry, and he looked back. It was the first time he had looked her in the eye since their conversation on top of the cliff earlier. She couldn't help feeling like there was something different about the way he was looking at her. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Do you think he's going to die?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "I hope not," he said, and stood up, picking up the sword as he did so. "But Sirius seems to think he's pretty weak. I really don't know."

As she followed Harry back to the car, Hermione glanced down at the Epicyclical Charm in her hand. It was a nastily beautiful thing—white gold outlining a pendant of glass, inside which was a single one of Draco's baby teeth. She could see where Lucius' nails had dented the soft, pure gold, where his hand had bent the glass until it curved like the lens of a telescope.