The Enemy Chapter 13

It was cold in the place, and the temperature was quite understandable. After all, the house had been empty for…well, since Harry's parents had died anyway. I assumed that nobody had bought the house after such a tragedy; people, especially muggles, are really quite superstitious.

I stood there, shivering, and looked unhappily at Voldemort and followers, and for some odd reason, wasn't able to feel anything. It was as if, the second I sent Harry back, all emotion had been ripped away from me and tossed to the dustbin. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I should look at Voldemort and feel fear, uncertainty, hatred…should look at the Death Eaters and think weak, unstable, yet loyal creatures…and yet, I felt absolutely nothing when I did look at them. Voldemort was discussing something or the other with one of his prominent Death Eaters, and being Hermione Granger, I knew I really ought to be listening, ought to be hatching an escape plan before they did worse to convert me into a Dark Side mad woman, but I wasn't. I wasn't doing anything. I just stood there and shivered.

Voldemort turned to me presently and my face met his, both of us wearing identical unpleasant smiles. A shiver went through my back as I thought of the stupid symbolism in that. We really were alike, in so many horrible ways…each wanting to prove ourselves to the world, each with this thirst for knowledge, and as I had begun to discover about myself, this thirst for…

He cut my thoughts off with his own. Yes, my heiress. It is perfectly true, what you were about to think, I can sense it about you as well…part of the reason I picked you. But I couldn't inform Lucius or his son, no…you are far better than either of those two idiots, far better…

I didn't know what to think. This wasn't in a book or anything. You couldn't just read up on how to be a Dark Lord's Heiress, and you couldn't just read up on how to not be one either.

But I didn't really have to do anything because just at that instant, Voldemort began speaking out loud. "Let me introduce you," he said to his whole fleet of death eaters, "to my…protégé, shall we say. Hermione."

The Death Eaters, with the exception of Lucius Malfoy, Avery, and a few others that had been present at my 'initiation', looked a bit surprised. "Your daughter?" one of them asked carelessly.

He was in for a real time, I thought grimly as I observed the poor man screaming on the ground in agony as Voldemort lazily watched, with a small smile of amusement playing on his lips. It was very casual, and I was actually not surprised to see that I felt the same way. I didn't seem to care anymore that some poor bastard was being tortured, in fact, my feelings were one with Voldemort's…a lazy sort of appreciation, almost. Entertainment. What kind of monster was I becoming?

It was the oddest sensation I had ever felt. There were truly two parts of me now, the part that had become, through the use of Firehorn potion and whatever else that the devious Dark Lord had put upon me, practically evil, and then there was the other part, the old Hermione, full with love or lust or just appreciation for an evil boy but was actually a good girl. Either way, I was doomed. I could become the next Dark Lady, and forget about Draco, Harry, Ron, and whoever else that used to matter, or I could cease this nonsense, have Draco, and not exactly be on good terms with Harry, Ron, and whoever else that used to matter.

It was truly hell, and I didn't know how to escape the burn.

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I couldn't believe it. Here I was, flying early in the morning, with the boy I'd hated more than anything else in my school years, to find the girl I'd hated more than anything else in my school years, who now happened to occupy nearly all my thoughts.

I was infatuated, to say in the least. It was a bit scary. I'd never cared so much about anything in my life, and now I was caring about a person, a breathing, moving person that was also unfortunately Heiress to the Dark Lord.

Was anything in my life not connected to the dark side in some way?

As we zoomed through the chilly morning air, I turned to look at Potter. He looked focused, brows furrowed in concentration as if Hermione was a Snitch he just had to catch. But my reasons…differed. Hermione wasn't a goal…she was a necessity. Suddenly something occurred to me.

"Hey...Potter," I said awkwardly, addressing the boy I hadn't talked to in six years without an insult.

He turned and looked at me peculiarly. "Malfoy," he acknowledged slowly.

"Do you know where the place...where Hermione is?" I asked, feeling stupid and shy and silly all at once. A month ago, I would have pissed myself if I'd gotten wind of the fact that in the future I'd be having a conversation with Potter about Hermione. It was too strange to even comprehend.

"She's at my old house, Malfoy. Thought I told you that earlier," he said crisply.

"I know, but are you sure you know how to get there? We're…going to be in loads of trouble." I couldn't believe I was caring about some detentions while so many people's lives were either in danger or about to be drastically changed.

Potter turned to look at me, and I could see his expression held no malice, only a true earnest to explain what he meant when he began to speak. "You know, I didn't know where Godric's Hollow was…but…it's hard to explain—I just know where to go. I don't know why, I just do."

I nodded. Somehow, the explanation was reasonable. I suppose it could happen, with everything else that had happened recently. "Oh, and Potter," I said suddenly, the words blurting out of my mouth before I could stop them, "how come you knew...about me and Hermione?"

Potter gave me a half-hearted, weak sort of smile. "Intuition."

The rest of the ride passed in silence, until Potter began to spiral downwards to a modest home in the middle of lush greenery. "That's it," he said, pointing to the dome shaped roof. "She's probably in the foyer. That's where they were earlier."

Suddenly I felt stupid again. How in the world…what in the world could the two of us possibly do? We couldn't just barge in, grab Hermione, and leave again. Not unless we wanted to be Avada Kedavra'd or Crucio'd to death.

"What are we going to do?" I asked him, letting the word 'idiot' sink into me. I felt like a complete and total idiot. I didn't have a clue as to what was going on. And Potter, Potter was so damn secretive! I didn't understand how he could suddenly disappear within the night, how he could suddenly appear back a little later, and how the hell he always knew exactly what to do. Goddamn it. It was unnerving, almost, the extent to how perfect he was. It revolted me. It repulsed me. I respected it, oddly. I really did.

But Boy Wonder shrugged. "I don't know about you…but, well, this is my time. I have to face Voldemort, and I know…I'm either going to…oh, forget it."

He didn't continue, but I somehow knew exactly what he was going to say. And once again, the weirdest things came out of my mouth, and I felt repulsed and annoyed and as if I was going soft…yet at the same time, it all worked so perfectly that you would have thought we'd been friends, even. "Good luck," I whispered.

He cocked his head at me and gave that same half-hearted smile. "Thanks."

He disappeared inside and after a moment, I followed. In front of me lay a familiar scene—Voldemort and the Death Eaters, with Hermione standing firmly near Voldemort. I shuddered to think what they had done to her, how badly she'd been changed from what she'd been earlier. Not that it had been much better even. She'd had an evil streak implanted in her at that time as well, and maybe now it had intensified.

She gasped when she saw me. "Draco," she said loudly, and all eyes swung from Potter to me.

Voldemort and my father both looked at me coldly. My father was the first to speak. "Draco," he said icily. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here? Why aren't you in school?"

I didn't know what to say, so I kept silent, casting my eyes downward. Voldemort addressed me next. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Once again I kept silent, and then suddenly I heard ice-cold words burst from his mouth. "Crucio!" he yelled and the jet of red light issued from his wand. I was frozen, it seemed, glued to the spot quite firmly, until the curse hit me and all hell broke loose.

I could not even think as the pain enveloped me…could not do anything but control the screams…couldn't be weak…

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I gasped when I saw Draco on the ground, writhing, twisting his body around so unnaturally, silently accepting his fate… I looked over at Voldemort, who had the same stance as he'd had earlier with the poor death eater. He was watching lazily, small amusement again, but this time I didn't feel that way. I felt terrible, like a part of me was also writhing on the floor, no, he had to stop this, poor Draco!

"Stop!" I yelled before I could control my words. I too was terrified of Voldemort. The Cruciatus curse was supposed to be an unbelievable amount of pain and there was no way I wanted to experience it.

Voldemort turned to me, his red eyes blazing. Harry stood behind him, green eyes just as cold. So far Harry had been ignored, a little bit at least, because of Draco's rather dramatic entrance. And why hadn't he spoken? Why hadn't he told them why he was here? Come to think of it, why was he here?

"What did you say?" Voldemort asked me, anger evident in his high voice.

"Stop it," I replied miserably. "Please, can't you see…you're hurting him! You can't do that!"

Voldemort laughed, if you could call a high-pitched scream of raucousness laughter. "And yet you didn't stop me when poor McNair had to suffer through it?" he asked curiously. I could tell he was not merely asking a rhetorical question, he really did want to know why I felt differently about Draco.

"I won't speak until you stop it," I begged, tears prickling at my eyes. I wanted to wipe them away, but that was actually pushed to the back of my mind as I tried hard to comprehend why…why I cared so much. Sure, I did fancy Draco, a lot even…but how come Voldemort's tight control over my mind had suddenly faded when I saw Draco being tortured? How come?

To my surprise, Voldemort flicked his wand in Draco's direction and the curse was halted. Draco lay on the floor breathing heavily and before I control myself I ran over to him.

"Are you okay?" I asked breathlessly, not sure if I should…touch him or anything.

He smiled very weakly. "I just…got hit," he panted, "with the Cruciatus curse…do you…think…I'm okay?"

We laughed softly, once again bonded by pain, distrust, and uncertainty. "Sorry," I said and before I could control myself I'd bent down to kiss him on his cheek. Then I turned and grudgingly walked back to Voldemort. I knew he was expecting answers and I was perfectly willing to give them to him, I suppose. If I even knew the answers myself, which I wasn't sure I did.

"The reason for this?" he asked me coldly as I turned back to him.

I hung my head worried that if I looked at him he was going to understand what I myself had felt an undercurrent of but a few moments ago. I tried to think of another plausible answer, not wanting to give him the truth.

"I believe it is because I actually know Draco Malfoy," I said slowly, trying to make my words convincing.

"Expand." His one-word responses invoked terror in nearly everyone. They could mean a number of things, some of which it was painful even to sit and contemplate. Taking a deep breath I expanded.

"Well…when…you tortured, um, McNair, I found it to be perfectly all right because I did not know him. However when the same torture was inflicted on…Draco, I, um, felt a spark of…compassion—because I'd seen him grow up at Hogwarts. I knew him too well."

Voldemort regarded me with those malevolent red eyes. "You're going to have to learn to overcome that. No heiress can betray her responsibilities just because she knows a person well."

I nodded, about to breathe a sigh of relief that he'd bought my fabricated story, when he spoke again. And this time the words were truly chilling.

"You're lying," he hissed. "Nagini, she's lying, isn't she?"

The bloody snake uncoiled itself and slithered away from the corner in which it had been watching the whole ordeal. It moved up to me, and I was frozen to the ground in fear as it coiled itself around my legs, tightening, loosening, tightening, loosening, in a pattern that made me want to heave up last night's dinner—I was so terrified.

And then, the snake turned to Voldemort and slowly, deliberately, nodded its head.

I nearly fainted from the shock and the fear that I felt but I could not say anything at all. I wondered briefly if this was the reason that Draco had not answered Voldemort or his father when they'd questioned him. But no, the reason he'd stayed quiet somehow seemed a lot deeper than what he'd portrayed on the surface. If we ever got out of this mess alive, I made a mental note to ask him.

"Why do you lie?" Voldemort asked softly. I knew that the softer his voice got, the more dangerous he was apt to become.

I made some sort of indistinguishable noise between a squeak and a moan of fear and Voldemort chuckled cruelly. "Look at me," he commanded.

 I raised my eyes and then my brown eyes met his red ones and a spark of understanding was lit between them. I knew I was doomed, I knew that he'd understood the same realization that had come to me earlier when I had stopped him from torturing Draco.

Voldemort's lips, if they could even be called lips, turned upward to form a horrid looking sneer and he looked at me with pure venomous distaste. "I can't believe my own heiress would succumb to something so disgusting and frivolous."

I gasped. He really knew. Oh, he really did! What was I going to possibly do? How could I escape from here alive?

Voldemort continued and I felt my face flaming red when he announced it for everyone to hear. "You are in love," he spat, "with Lucius's son."

The room was deathly silent and I sneaked a glance at Draco, who seemed to be resolved not to look at me. He looked toward the ground and I cowered, wondering if the love was only one-sided. Perhaps I'd been too hasty. Was it awful to be killed for love? I heard the words "Romeo and Juliet" at the back of my mind but refused to listen to them. Shakespeare could make up his tragedies but my life could not become one. I had to get out, I had to, had to…no way could I let myself be killed by the likes of Voldemort…

"Dearest Hermione," Voldemort said, glaring at me. "We cannot have such obstacles in your path for becoming an heiress, you know."

I could not say anything. A lump the size of England had formed in my throat.

"Thus," Voldemort continued, looking directly at Lucius now, "we'll have to get rid of the obstacle."

Cold fear swept through me as I heard the words wash over me. I looked at Lucius and Draco, both of them considerably paler than they had been before. Lucius looked helpless and unhappy, but he did not say anything. Smart man, I thought to myself. I knew that if Lucius dared say a word Voldemort, in his fury, would not hesitate to do away with the both of them.

Voldemort smiled evilly and raised his wand towards Draco.

I didn't have time to think. I found myself running in front of the boy, screaming, "NO!" at the top of my lungs…and saw to my surprise that Harry was also running, screaming like a mad man, wand out and pointed at Voldemort.

Voldemort uttered the killing curse, and I knew he was so angry he didn't care which one of us three died, but as luck would have it, all three of us ducked and it bounced somewhere in the background where it remained perfectly harmless.

Harry's face was white now and he shook a little, pointing his wand directly at Voldemort. Everyone could see the hate etched on his face—I had never seen Harry look so angry in his life.

I was not expected for the next words out of Harry's mouth. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

Voldemort, it seemed was not ready for those words either. Everything up till then had been fast paced and uncertain, but now it seemed to move in slow motion as the green curse hurled through the air and stopped directly in front of Voldemort.

Nobody dared breathe as Voldemort crumpled, screaming loudly, screaming and screaming…and somewhere in that jumble of words, I heard my name. I knew what he wanted me to do. Continue his place…become Dark Lady of the Wizarding world.

A/N: Well, hope it was long enough for you guys! Ah, stuff picks up a bit more now. Next chapter: more questions answered and such. Well, thank you all so much for your fantastic reviews. Please review this chapter—I know some people are reading and not reviewing, and seriously, reviews make me want to churn out chapters faster.