The Enemy Walks
The warmth of the water was delicious and infused delightful sensations within Draco that he had completely forgotten about. Or so he'd thought. He moaned at the pleasure something so simple as a nice, hot bath could bring and slid down a little further into the tub.
He tilted his head back a little and allowed the water to gently caress his silver blond locks, washing away the grime and grease that had clung to them almost permanently when he'd been in prison.
Picking up the soap, Draco gently began to clean his smooth, alabaster skin and mulled over what Lupin had told him. It had been inevitable that another dark wizard would arise to take Voldemort's place in the wake of his destruction eventually. Before Voldemort there had been Grindelwald and before him a witch named Rosemary or 'The Dark Rose.' They however had not wielded quite as much power as Voldemort and nor had they been quite so driven by an insane desire for immortality, their soul drive had been power where as that merely had been one of Voldemort's.
Perhaps that was what had made him such a fearsome enemy, he had been vastly more complicated than those before him.
The fact that this new dark wizard did not, as yet, have an identity was disconcerting and rather unusual.
Rather like Harry's freeing of him come to think of it. Draco gave a wry smile at this.
He still could not really grasp why Harry would need him. Draco did not have a wand any longer, what use could he possibly be? Potter obviously had something hidden up his sleeve but for the life of him Draco couldn't hazard a reasonable guess as to what it was.
He still wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.
Briefly Draco wondered how Harry's little conversation with Sirius had gone. Anger would be perfectly understandable and if he chose to take it out on him Draco would not try and fight back.
As he had said to Lupin – if they had killed him it would not have been any less than what he deserved.
Almost the very same words that Harry had said to him in that last duel – "You had this coming."
Rinsing his hair, Draco let his mind wander back over the past. He saw flashes of various moments and events, some actually quite pleasing but most decidedly not.
One that stood out horridly vividly was the time when he had been home for the holidays and had been unable to sleep. Eventually, in what were the early hours of the morning, he'd got out of bed and crept downstairs to the vast ground floor of the manor to search out some of his mother's sleeping potions. Only instead he'd heard screams and muted moaning of human agony coming from one of the rooms.
Curious, Draco had opened the door to find a woman, a Muggle judging by her clothing, lying on the ground amidst a circle of Death Eaters. At that point in Draco's life it had been the most horrifying and grotesque scene he had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes upon.
Her skin hung off various parts of her body in grotesque strips, revealing bloody muscle underneath. Even worse was the fact that some of the torturers (one of whom was of course his father) had also heated the jagged, tapered knives that had made those horrid cuts and used them as brands, burning the flesh until it turned black and bubbled like heated wax.
Draco had fought hard to keep down the bile rising in his throat and had simply backed out of the room and run, screaming all the while for it was then that he knew there was to be no escape from this evil, he would never have a choice about joining it or turning away from it.
He knew his soul was truly damned.
His eyes snapped open and Draco was aware of a clammy feeling in his hands. They'd wrinkled up, as skin did when immersed for a long period of time in water.
The water was now cold.
I think I've been in here long enough.
Slowly, Draco rose up and stepped out of the bathtub. At the same moment the bathroom door opened and Harry stepped in.
"Malfoy, are you...? Oh, I'm sorry," Harry's voice went from concerned annoyance to an embarrassed squeak faster than one could blink. Draco had to use a lot of willpower to fight down the laugh that threatened to escape him. It did not really concern him about Harry seeing him naked, former enemy or no. He had after all spent eight years been hastily washed by a complete stranger. Such circumstances tended to strip one of their inhibitions.
Harry immediately covered his eyes and turned to face the opposite wall. Draco chuckled at the fact that Potter was clearly squirming as he tugged open the door of the linen cupboard Lupin had pointed out earlier. He picked up the first folded towel he happened to lay his hand on...only to find several large, ugly harvest spiders had discovered it first.
With a slight grimace Draco pulled them off, which wasn't that easy as the stubborn arachnids didn't seem to want to let go.
He wrapped the towel loosely around his waist and then saw with amusement that the spiders had now retreated to a corner and were showing him their backs like petulant children who had just received a scolding from their parents.
Looking away from the creatures, Draco turned and said to Harry's back, "Ok, I'm decent now."
With an audible sigh of relief, Harry turned and faced the young man who was still naked from the waist up, tiny droplets of water trailing down Malfoy's too skinny chest and stomach. For some peculiar reason he found this simple thing strangely fascinating.
Tearing his eyes away from Draco's chest he spoke flatly as he saw the questioning look in Malfoy's steel grey eyes.
"I wanted to see if you were all right…you've been in here quite a while you know."
"You thought I might have tried to kill myself rather then help you," Draco replied bluntly. It wasn't an accusation as such; just what he perceived to be the truth and the expression that crossed Harry's countenance confirmed that.
"Or we thought you might have tried to escape," Harry snapped defensively. Draco let out a derisive snort at this.
"Oh yes, that would be a great idea wouldn't it? Try to escape from three fully trained wizard without so much as a wand to aid me." Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "You don't value my intelligence much do you Potter?"
Harry's nostrils flared.
"You haven't exactly put it to good use, or perhaps you didn't notice?" He sneered acidly. Draco seemed to back down a little. Harry knew he wasn't exactly being kind to their 'guest' but he also didn't really care. The rules of hospitality didn't exactly apply to a former enemy in Harry's mind.
Malfoy would have to face up to his mistakes as well as those he'd hurt whether he liked it or not.
After a pause Draco opened his mouth, probably intending to snap back a retort when he seemed to decide against it and instead let out a resigned sigh.
"I'm not running away, I promise you that," He whispered so quietly that Harry had to strain his ears to hear the words.
"Glad to hear it," He murmured as they walked out of the bathroom.
Harry showed Malfoy to a small, somewhat cramped room at the back of the house. The blond man sat down and ran his fingers through his damp hair, an act he'd only ever engaged in when he was nervous as Harry recalled.
"Well, you'll want to get dressed so I'll-" Harry indicated the door and began to back out of the room. Malfoy couldn't help it this time and let out a low, husky laugh and Harry stopped and cocked his head, wondering why Draco found his embarrassment so very amusing.
"Doesn't others seeing you naked bother you?"
"Not really," Malfoy shrugged. "At least not any more. Try spending once a week being hastily washed by a guard in seriously need of a bathe himself and then we'll talk. Quite disturbing when you consider that washing the prisoners was probably the highlight of his week."
Harry wrinkled his nose.
"Thank you ever so much for all the mental pictures."
He turned to leave but when he got to the door turned back again as an after thought occurred to him.
"I'll send Remus up with some food ok?"
"Oh...you don't have to do that," Draco responded, flushing a little. He wasn't used to expressing gratitude in any shape or form but it was just one of things he was going to have to get used to. If the authorities didn't find him and chuck him back in jail first.
Looking up, Draco saw that Harry had left. Sitting back on the bed, not unduly concerned about the water dipping onto the sheets, he waited patiently for Lupin.
The prison was in uproar. Officials had been notified about the breakout of the prisoner (apparently aided by one Harry Potter. Yes, the famous Harry Potter) and were swarming around the prison like enraged worker ants. This was despite the fact that the prisoner was clearly not going to be still there. Closing the door after the horse has bolted so to speak.
William Crayke, the guard whom had so foolishly given Harry Potter the key to the prisoner's cell, watched all this with great amusement.
Because he'd already known what would happen. It was not mere stupidity that had seen him give the key to Potter. Oh no, not under any other circumstances would he have done such a foolish thing. Not even if it were the Minister for Magic himself visiting.
So the officials raged, cast locater spells which predictably didn't yield any information as to Malfoy's whereabouts. Potter was no fool, he would make sure Malfoy couldn't be found, wherever he was.
At least, this is what he'd been told. This was what his anonymous master had said.
Crayke was loyal to everyone and to no one. Whoever gave the right price. His master had insisted he allow Potter to smuggle the Malfoy boy out of the prison.
The master, apparently, had plans for them both.
Crayke would assuredly find out what they were in due time.
But for now he was content to watch the chaos unfold.
Eventually, Remus appeared with the promised food and some new clothes for Draco to wear. He mumbled a thank you, rather touched. It would make perfect sense if Lupin were to ever indulge in a show of hostility such as Harry and Sirius had and Draco greatly admired the fact that he had not, even though it did puzzle him.
"Good night," The older man murmured, with no hint of sarcasm in it.
"You too," Draco responded sleepily.
Lupin left and went back downstairs to the living room. Harry had gone to bed but Sirius was still awake, a brooding expression on his face.
"Ok Padfoot," Remus said with a chuckle. "Penny."
Sirius jerked in surprise, having clearly not registered that he was no longer alone in the room, and then smiled at his old friend's words.
"I think you should put away your hard earned money Mooney. These thoughts are not ones that should be paid for."
Remus thought about that for a few seconds then shrugged. If Sirius didn't want to share then that was up to him. He knew better than to pressure him.
"Well, if it helps at all, I've been worrying too. Not just about my new guest but also about our elusive new enemy."
"I believe the reason that guest is even here is because we're all worried about this elusive wizard," Sirius replied, a little testily.
"That's true but to be honest I find the latter concerns me more," Lupin explained. "How does one go about battling an enemy you cannot identify? That is, in essence, invisible?"
"Not easily," Sirius sighed. "But we can always improvise."
Outside stars glittered and the torrential rain had finally ceased, giving way to the clear night skies.
Briefly Remus wondered where their new enemy was now.
And what they were planning next.
She stood in the overgrown garden of the rotting, long neglected mansion house and inhaled the crisp, night air. The rains had finally dispelled but left behind the smell of dampness and cloying earth.
Still, such scents were not wholly unpleasant to her.
She began to walk a little along the stone path that wound through the once trim but now wild rose garden, the train of her ebony, antique lace dress occasionally snagging a dead rose petal and dragging it along like some morbid form of decoration.
How ironic, for she had once loved the roses here. But love was an emotion she had long since lost any attachment to. Hatred, bitterness and a desire to elicit fear and chaos anywhere and everywhere she could were all that she felt now. Where once she had been beautiful, an exquisite human being or so she had once been informed, she was now hardened and ugly. An aesthetic distortion that mirrored her own heart.
Beauty is but a small sacrifice though, in the grand scheme of things.
Her ashen face lifted itself to the sky and she ceased walking. She wondered what the other wizards and witches fighting against her were plotting now (unaware of course that one such wizard was wondering the very same thing about her).
It was an amusing thought.
Not one of them knew the first thing of her and in their supreme ignorance and stupidity assumed her to be male.
While on one level this was rather insulting it was nevertheless beneficial. Along with the fact that all in the magic world thought her to be dead. Only the closest of her followers really knew anything about her and only two had ever met her in person. The rest, along with their enemies, assumed her some dark wizard and made erroneous guesses to her real identity quite frequently amongst themselves.
But again, this was useful and she had even played up to it, encouraging those who did know that she was a witch to say otherwise and refer to her as 'master.'
When it finally came down to a conflict, not one of these fools would ever see her coming.
Like a poisonous and cunning cobra she would strike when they didn't expect it. There would be nothing any of them could do. It would be far too late.
They would never see her coming.
