The Enemy Chapter Six

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I love you guys to bits. This is an important chapter so I'll just hurry up to it. And believe me, this is not the last chapter at all!

So I stood there, lost completely in the swirl of emotions, my mind screaming at me to stop kissing him and start paying attention to the odd sensations around me but my body not responding. Finally I used mind over matter and pulled myself away, gasping, wanting to speak to him but too bewildered by my surroundings to do so. Finally we landed. I observed with scrutiny, trying to pretend like I didn't care, but in all honesty I was terrified. I looked over at Draco, hoping to see the terror I felt masked on his face as well, but he looked cool and calm and a little…apprehensive?

"Where are we?" I asked nervously.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

"Sorry about what? Answer my questions, goddamit! Where the hell are we? What is going on?"

"I'm sorry." And he refused to say anything more.

I made one last attempt to get any information whatsoever out of him. "Please, Draco," I said, swallowing so that my tears of fright and shock didn't spill, "Please tell me what's happening. Please." He stared at me for a moment, and finally opened his mouth to speak, but what came out was a shrill, high-pitched voice that Harry had described in nightmares.

I turned around to face the snake of a man as he spoke. "In my lair, Miss Granger," he said coldly. I shuddered, involuntarily. I wanted to scream but I held it in. There stood Voldemort, in all his glory, decked in scarlet-burgundy colored robes, reminding me with a sick wave of nausea that it was the color of blood.

I felt myself going pale. "What am I doing here?" I asked quietly, praying that I would get out of the situation alive.

"Why don't we ask Mr. Malfoy," Voldemort said. He was sick, I decided. Sick and twisted and sadistic, probably receiving pleasure from the torment that I was feeling.

I spun around to look at Draco, his head down, blonde locks falling into his eyes. If I hadn't known any better, I would have guessed that he looked ashamed. Why would he be ashamed? What had he done?

"No, Miss Granger. That Malfoy will have a turn to speak later. How about this Malfoy," he said, thrusting the vile presence of Lucius Malfoy in front of me.

"Lucius Malfoy?" I gasped. What the hell was going on?

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I looked down, not wanting to show the compassion I suddenly felt for her. What had I done? Why had I brought her here? I had not thought of the emotional torture my father would give her before they finished her off. And sure enough, he began immediately.

"So…Miss Granger," he said brightly. Brightly. This was his idea of fun. Torturing Mud Bloods and then killing them. God I lived with such a pleasant personality, no wonder I had problems accepting her.

"What is it you vile, evil, piece of co…" My father stopped her ranting with a simple hand gesture.

"Quiet, Mud Blood. Any…musings as to why you're here?" He asked. It sounded like he asked what the weather was like. Honestly, didn't it bother him to force people into psychological terror?

She looked down, defeated. A feeling of loss surged through my heart. I hadn't even realized I'd been rooting for her.

"Well…let me explain it from the very beginning. Now, do you honestly think such a prominent boy like my son would take interest in a filthy little mud blood such as yourself?"

I wanted to reach out to her as she bit her lip, trying not to cry. "What?" she whispered.

"Oh yes," my father continued. I wanted to hurt him. How could he do this? Couldn't he see it was so wrong? "Draco would never look twice in your little mud blood direction if he had not been instructed to do so by his Lord."

My blood began to boil at the same time that her tears began to fall. I hated the bastard that was my father; how in the hell could he say that I would obediently follow anybody? I wouldn't have looked at her if it hadn't been for my "Lord"? Voldemort was not my lord! Nobody was my lord! I was my own lord! I would too have looked in her direction! She was smart, pretty, incredible…I stopped the trail of thought that had flooded my mind almost immediately. Had I really thought that? I listened to what my father was saying to her, and I realized I really had thought that. It sounded like I almost…loved her. How sickening, really. But I had to find out. I couldn't let them kill her, no, I had to know where it would go from here.

"Yes, my sweet, he befriended you…disgusting, isn't it, not to get into your pants but to bring you here to the Lord himself so we could have revenge on Harry Potter," my father was saying, almost as if he was reciting the spending total for the month. Hermione shot a pleading glance at me, of betrayal, of shattered trust and broken hearts, and I couldn't take it anymore.

"Father, stop," I said quietly. I didn't know what else to do; if I spoke out too much he would not hesitate to kill me.

Both my father and Voldemort spun around, and I noticed that four other Death Eaters emerged from the shadows. In spite of myself, I began to tremble a little bit. What were they going to do?

"What did you say, Draco?" My father asked softly. I knew him well enough to know that the softer his voice got, the more dangerous he became.

I opened and closed my mouth, for the first time at a loss for words. What was I supposed to say that would still save Hermione's skin but wouldn't finish me off? I was relieved when Voldemort opened his mouth to speak but that was until I heard the high-pitched words coming out of it.

"Lucius," he said, rather lazily, "I think your boy's gone soft on the girl."

My father laughed, a cold, mirthless laugh, more of a Hilarious-joke-my-lord-but-if-my-son-did-that-I'll-have-his-arse sort of laugh. "Is it true, Draco?" He said off-handedly but his eyes flashed with a resilient anger.

Once again, I didn't know what to say. I made the mistake of looking over at Hermione, tears silently spilling down her cheeks, and I knew. I had 'gone soft' on her. I couldn't let them kill her.

"I…I just don't think we can kill her," I said softly. "She doesn't need to die."

"Oh, but here is where you're wrong," my father responded, angrily. "She does. The minute we kill her off, Harry Potter's life is ruined. It's the easiest way to get him, don't you understand?" He talked to me as if I was five years of age.

"It won't affect Potter," I told him, miserably, hoping and praying that it would work.

"And why wouldn't that be?" I almost had to strain my ears to hear him. Oh, God was I in bloody deep or was I in.

"B-because Potter will only work harder for revenge."

The 'Dark Lord' cut in. "Oh, I don't think so," he said breezily. They really didn't care! They really didn't care if they committed five hundred murders in a night; life went out without any shame whatsoever. They didn't know Hermione! They didn't hesitate to want to take away the life of possibly the smartest witch Hogwarts'd ever seen!

"Why not?" I said, trying to keep my voice down, trying to keep the rage out.

"Draco!" My father said sharply. "Do not speak that way to your lord!"

I wanted so badly to retaliate but I knew I'd be done for if I even said a syllable against Voldemort. I looked at Hermione, who was looking down at the black dirt, and I felt helpless. What could I possibly do to save her?

"Oh, Malfoy," Voldemort said. "Don't speak to your only son that way. You might just get him riled up, and then you wouldn't have a son at all!" They both laughed hearty, yet mirthless laughs, pretending. It was all pretenses. My father, the bastard, didn't care for me an inch when it came to Voldemort versus me. I couldn't stand the bloody hypocrite.

"Draco," my father said. "The Lord is bloody right. You fancy a mud blood!" They both glared at me, and I could feel Hermione's heated gaze as well. You better appreciate this, I thought. You don't know how much shit I've just landed myself in.

"So what if I do?"

"Oh, not too much. First I'll let the mud blood witness a little swishing and flicking of my wand, and then I'll do the same to her. Do you understand, Draco, or do I have to repeat myself?" Father said coldly.

"No, Lucius, not now. I have a feeling that that is not the best answer to this little unforeseen…problem," Voldemort said, his snake like features glistening in the moonlight. He turned to discuss something with my father and for the moment their attention was distracted from the both of us. Probably planning out a joint torture session. Yep, that's how Death Eater fathers showed their love for their families.

"Won't we be missed?" I heard Hermione whisper to herself.

"No," I whispered back "I'm so sorry, Hermione…" I began.

"Don't." She turned away, and I was embarrassed. Ordinarily I would have wanted to kill her for looking away from my face but somehow, I knew what she'd done was right. If I were in her position…I would have done the same. I would have turned away from Draco Malfoy.

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I trembled with fear. What had I done, trusting that stupid Death Eater like that? How could I have opened my soul to him, only to have it betrayed? I stood there, waiting for the verdict. They were going to kill me, no doubt, but it was Draco's situation that was negotiable. Perhaps they'd kill him too. A part of me was glad. He should die, for committing such horrible acts! He had to die! But for the most part, I did not want him to die. After all, it wasn't really his fault, was it, having a bastard for a father who routinely drilled stupid ideas in his head?

And he had tried to help me. I had almost felt my heart bursting with well, surprise, when he had argued for me. In fact, he'd put his life in danger by saying the things he'd said, and I suddenly felt ashamed for not acknowledging this. I turned my face back towards him, and I could see his breath was jagged with fear. Mine was probably the same. I wondered if we were going to even see the light of day again. Perhaps they'd decided to kill us both.

I looked into his eyes as he looked into mine, and gave him a small, rather watery smile. The best I could muster under such intense fear. In return, he groped in the darkness for my hand, and for the moment, I was calmer, knowing I had some support in the lair of a snake.

Our hands locked tightly together, I turned to listen to the conversation, hoping I could grasp something as to what came next. I heard his name many times, as well as the highly offending 'mud blood'. I was not a mud blood; how dare they call me that! I was so much more.

I couldn't die now!

I looked over at Draco, and mouthed the only word that sprung to mind. "Please."

I didn't even know what I meant.

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I stared at her beautiful red lips as she mouthed the word to me. I had no idea what she meant; there was no way I could save her anyway. I was just as much in hell as she was. After what seemed eternity, the bastards turned back to us. Immediately I felt the slack of her hand separating from mine. Good, I thought, it had been exactly what I was going to do. No need to fuel their anger, after all.

"Draco," my father began. "So you want the mud blood to live." He said it expectantly.

Nervously I answered him.

"Yes."

"You do know the consequences."

I nodded. And I would have to accept them, my heart beating wildly.

"However--" As soon as my father began his sentence Voldemort cut him off himself.

"All right then, who shall I do the honor of…disposing…first? Your son, or the mud blood?" He asked brightly.

"My Lord!" My father seemed to want to protest. "I thought…we…let him go, didn't you say?"

"Oh, no, Lucius. He has deviated from my command."

"But that's not what we discussed…"

"Be quiet, Malfoy, or I'll do you in too."

My father kneeled to the ground as a humble gesture, and Voldemort smiled a rather wicked smile. He's got something up his sleeve, I thought. I knew he did. He wasn't going to kill me; he was going to do something much worse…what was it going to be…

"All right, Lucius, get up, that's enough. I actually have something a lot better in mind…"

"Thank you, my Lord, thank you…" God, father, don't be such a bastard in front of your Lord, I thought angrily.

"No, Lucius, what I am about to do is something wonderful. First, I am going to give your son the Dark Mark."

My father looked up, beaming. The sick man was beaming that I was going to have to be in Voldemort's service my entire life. Thanks, Dad, I thought miserably. Exactly what every son wants.

The pain as he inflicted it into my flesh was really excruciating. I closed my eyes in agony, hoping that it would be over soon. A few minutes later I opened my eyes and examined the pale flesh on the underside of my arm. A gleaming, throbbing, Dark Mark. My lower lip trembled as I struggled not to cry. It was all over then. They weren't going to kill me, then, but I was forever with the Dark Lord, even if I left him. I would always be an outcast. Once with the Dark Mark, always with the Dark Mark. They weren't going to trust me now…I looked over at Hermione, who was looking at my arm with some sort of grotesque fascination. But I could tell she felt disgusted.

"And now," Voldemort said presently, "For the mud blood. Who will no longer be addressed as mud blood." Both my father and I turned to stare at Voldemort incredulously. Had he gone mad?

And he had.

My father gaped.

I stood there, helpless, shocked, devoid of any movement, rooted to the ground--as Hermione screamed. I stood there, wordlessly, watching as the Dark Mark seared into her innocent flesh.

A/N: I really need feedback at this point. If you like it, review. If you think I could work on some things, review. If you have any suggestions for future chapters--and this is something I REALLY want--review. I need reviews.

Check out all those "reviews". Now click on that little button and submit one to me. I can't do individual thanks, sorry not much time, but I do love my reviewers. I mean it; you guys are totally awesome and you rock my socks off.

And another quick note that I would love if you read:

I recently read two stories that don't get the attention they deserve, check them out if you are bored and in search of Draco/Hermione. Number 1: Punk Rock Depression by The Dying Duck--she's kind of…advertising me around…I guess she likes my stuff? But it's all cool, her story's really hilarious, it's kind of a parody but a GOOD parody! Number 2: Till I collapse by Compellingold. It's really great, go check it out! Thanks.