"Harry, I haven't done anything to you and isn't it a little late? I'm really not in the mood to be bothered," she snapped, turning to face him angrily. Harry jumped back in shock. He did not realize-could not imagine that it was Bridget sitting outside. He hadn't seen her all day, so what was she doing out in the open now? The more disturbing thought, though, was the fact that just a few moments ago he'd found her beautiful.

"What are you doing here?"

"Adding melody to words. Your sister and I are quite the creative team, you know," Bridget explained, her voice sarcastic. She was being blunt with Harry, more candid than she had ever been before. "You know, you'll actually fine I'm a bit nocturnal. It's very peaceful out here at night, especially when nobody's around to criticize me."

As she finally met his eye, Harry frowned, not feeling the need to respond. He took the time to examine her body, noticing the well she held herself feebly. Her lip was bleeding, split right down the middle and through the moonlight he could see the blood that clung to them, now dry and dull. His eyes ran down the length of her body, noticing a large gash in her side, and a piece of her shirt wrapped around the leg closest to Harry.

She'd been hurt badly, Harry realized with a shock. Something had happened. Harry's mind immediately went to one place.

"Did he do that to you?"

"Why the sudden concern?" she asked evasively.

"I'm not concerned. I'm just wondering how Voldemort treats his daughter," Harry responded coolly, turning away. Who cared if she was hurt? She probably deserved it anyway.

"Harry, I'm not proud of him or what he does or what he stands for! If it means anything, I'm rooting for you. There has been enough death, but if death is the only way to solve this once and for all than so be it. I'd rather have one person die than many tortured."

"Even if he is your father?" Harry whispered, staring blankly into the lake. He was watching a particular fish, which kept jumping around, as if swimming on beat.

"Do you really think he has any paternal instincts? I mean, if there was one person in the word who should never have kids it would be him-unless you want to count his parents and blame them for making him," Bridget quipped.

"I'm scared," Harry blurted, feeling unsettled by Bridget's light attitude. Truth and worry wore heavy on their shoulders, but Harry couldn't bring himself to laugh or even think about making jokes. He didn't know how she could, but supposed it was something to get used to.

"Good. Voldemort's way to overconfident anyway. He makes mistakes and eventually it will be his downfall."

"I guess," Harry replied, followed by silence. The silence was sweet, though, as silence between strangers rarely is. There was not a need to speak, for both people knew there wasn't much to say. Enemies are careful with their words, wary of every move they make. It is simply much easier to stay silent, rather than risk slipping up.

"So what was with last night?" Harry finally asked, not being able to hold back. There were so many things he wanted to know about Bridget, so many questions she left unanswered.

"It keeps me happy. If I can find laughter, even in myself, then I have hope to carry on. Even if you and everybody else hates me for it.

"But you know what? Maybe it's better this way. Maybe there is a reason you're supposed to hate me. Maybe even if I wasn't the blood of a murderer people would avoid me, simply because of the way I act. And maybe that's a good thing. Every soul I touch is just another knife in my hands."

The sun was beginning to rise in the horizon, and Harry felt even more confused than before. Where was the evil he'd seen so plainly before? Was she acting or telling the truth? Luring him in or pushing him away?

"Hogwarts is beautiful, don't you think?" she spoke, suddenly, pulling Harry out of his reverie. "I've always wanted to come here, but I didn't want to face people like you."

Guilty swept over Harry. Could Lillian be right? Did she deserve the hell she was put through?

As light finally approached, Harry shook his head. The darkness had clouded his judgment. This was all probably part of the plan. She would lure him in before giving him over to Voldemort. She would kill him, however indirect it was.

"This doesn't change anything between us," Harry told her, standing up. The glare Bridget recognized was forever meant for her returned.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," she said with a smirk that greatly resembled Malfoy's. Harry sighed, walking off. He did not get far, though, before Bridget called him back.

"Hey, Harry! Am I more than you bargained for yet?"

"More than you know," he yelled back, shaking his head.

"Good," she teased before they finally took their separate paths.

Neither of them knew it, but they had just experienced the beginning of a friendship between enemies. A friendship like no other.

--

As Harry joined his friends in the great hall he could not get Bridget's words out of his head. Everything she'd said sounded so sincere, and it sent chills through his spine. He kept having to remind himself of the trap he knew it was, but it was hard not to fall for it. Bridget was good at what she did, whatever it was.

Lillian trusted her, though. His sister, his only family left, trusted his enemy with all her life. This, from the very beginning, had startled Harry. He knew nothing of their past together, but what had Bridget done to convince her of her loyalties? Had she spoken the same words she just told him? Was this all a carefully written script.

No, Harry didn't believe that. When she came he'd expected somebody similar to Malfoy, but Bridget reached a whole new level of confusing. Harry was sure he couldn't match up to it, even if he tried. He definitely couldn't understand it.

So it was best Harry stayed away from her from now on, then. He should release himself from the mysteries before he drowned in them. If he focused on the girl too much he'd lose sight of what was important, and that was not her.

--

Bridget tried to limp into the great hall. Her injuries were not subtle; Dumbledore had been right. It wasn't safe for her to see Voldemort. Maybe if she tried hard enough she could avoid him forever, locking herself in a closet. He'd never find her in a Hogwarts closet. He wouldn't think to look.

It wasn't plausible, though. Voldemort was furious, more so than usual. He was unhappy with the way things were turning out, and Bridget could sense action would be coming soon. Sooner than she expected, even.

Danger loomed in the distance and Bridget felt it in her very bones. There was no escaping this.

"Bee! Are you okay?" Lillian cried, jumping from her seat.

"Well-"

"You should go to the hospital wing," she said hurriedly, scanning over Bridget's body.

The danger was coming, though, and there was no time for this. She sensed it, smelled it, could taste the death on her tongue. Somebody had to be warned.

"Lils, no-" but she was interrupted by a crash as the walls of Hogwarts were penetrated again, Death Eaters flowing in.

Sorry, no veela, but I did leave you with a lovely cliffhanger! I know, fun, right?