Keep Your Enemies Closer

by juxtaposed

The battles keep getting bigger, the losses more profound. When the ultimate loss happens, everything changes. Everyone changes. Harry and Ginny now find themselves dealing with an old friend - and a new enemy. But how do you defend yourself against someone who knows everything about you? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

also

Hermione reminisces. Harry has mental arguments. Ginny just has issues.

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies, blah blah blah; I don't own anything or anyone you recognize. Unless, of course, you recognize something or someone I do. No lawsuits or paperwork, please.

Chapter Four: What Led Us Here Anyway, aka Dwelling On The Past

Hermione had reached her destination, a small patch of forestry, or more accurately, overgrown weeds and shrubbery. Moonlight streamed down, filtered by the leaves and branches to create the dimmest of illumination on the twig-and-mulch-infested ground. She walked into the growth, and it seemed to grow darker with each step she took. She frowned, then, looking around her quickly to ensure she was indeed alone out in the middle of nowhere, the outskirts of an old suburban English town, waved her hand, creating a brilliant flash that briefly lit the whole area in a flood of white light, before submerging her back into pitch black darkness.

Then, out of thin air, a small glow slowly materialized, hovering in front of her. She murmured a few words to it, and it began to twitch, then dip and ebb in the air, before slowly floating off to a few feet in front of her to her left, where it simply hovered again. She stepped towards it, and no sooner than she had, it moved again, drifting a few more feet. Apparently she was to follow it, then. Right. Then follow it she would. She moved towards it again, and again it floated off, and so it continued like that for a long stretch. She was soon used to taking a couple of steps then pausing to see the direction the little glowlight moved in, then taking a couple more steps, and so on. She had to occasionally swat a overhanging branch out of the way, but the glow seemed to be leading her on a path that was pretty much unobstacled. She was thankful for that, the little glowing ember floating in front of her wasn't bright enough to illuminate her surroundings, and she had more than enough on her mind to have to struggle and fumble her way through undergrowth.

And as for what was on her mind that kept her so preoccupied? Well, it was really a number of things, but in the foreground, who else but a certain mister Ronald Weasley.

Hermione was madly in love with him. She had been, for several years, very possibly, she admitted, since she had met him. Except that he had been a prat to her, and he and Harry hadn't thought much of her for being so studious and rule-abiding. So, foolishly besotted girl that she was, what had she done? She had gone and broken the rules to help them when they were in trouble. And so it had begun from then on, her friendship with the ever-so-famous Boy-Who-Lived and his best friend, the awkwardly charming Ron. There were times, of course - many, in fact - that she mildly regretted ever becoming the third member of their inseparable trio, because if she hadn't, who knows what she might be doing right now? Probably not trekking through an untamed forest, that was for sure. And she probably wouldn't have had her life in jeopardy quite so often. And she probably wouldn't have been through so many horrific experiences. But all in all, she knew that she wouldn't have changed a thing. Because, really, if she hadn't become best friends with Harry and Ron, she wouldn't be the girl she was today.

Of course, the girl she was today wasnt really what everyone had expected from her, but then, certain events had the tendency to do strange things to you. Like, well, death for instance. Not her own, but people who mattered to her, people she was close to, people she cared about. She had witnessed so many losses, watched so many deaths. At first, she would just be somewhat sorry about the loss of an innocent. Then, when Voldemort got closer to his target, she would grieve over the loss of a friend. And then another, and another. One of the worst things was when he started to kill families. Families of people she knew. Families she knew. Then, eventually, Voldemort had killed her own family.

It had been then, that she had first begun to really hate Voldemort, and her hatred and anger and grief had manifested in some truly spectacular magick. She remembered hearing the news, it was a few months into seventh year, and she, Harry, Ron and Ginny were laughing at something that Luna had said to Professor Snape about purple tree-seal puppies in Uzbekistan and his hair. Professor Dumbledore had received an owl in the middle of lunch, something that wasn't highly unusual, really. But what was, was that he had looked to Professor McGonagall, and, with the slightest of nods, they both stood up, heavily. Ginny had been doing a dead-on impression of Professor Snape - "Miss Lovegood, I appreciate your concern for my hair, but I assure you, I do not use shampoo culled from the earwax of these nonexistent creatures" - when Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall had made their way over. They had all looked up to see the ever-present twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes missing, and McGonagall's already thin lips pressed into oblivion.

"Miss Granger, if you would be so kind as to follow us to my office, please," Dumbledore had stated quietly. Hermione's heart had begun to sink, and as she stole a look around her, she noticed everyone at the table was looking at her with varying degrees of fear and pity. But she had simply nodded, stood up and followed the two Professors out. She was led to Dumbledore's office, offered a seat, which she accepted, as well as tea and a sweet, which she declined.

Then McGonagall had cleared her throat lightly. "I'm afraid, my dear, that we have some very bad news," she had said gently. Hermione had looked up to see the pained look in her teacher's eyes, and her heart seemed to be both in her throat and down the pits of her stomach.

"W-what is it?" Hermione had stammered out.

"It seems that...well, it seems that Voldemort has launched an attack...on your family."

Hermione's mind had gone blank at Dumbledore's statement. But somehow she had managed to get out a few words. "Are they...did he..."

The look on their faces was answer enough, and Hermione didn't respond when McGonagall had placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, my dear." Hermione had been quiet for a good long minute, and Dumbledore spoke up.

"I, too, offer my condolences. Of course, we will understand if you wish to return home for any...arrangements, and will help provide some security for your travel. And you are excused from all classes until you see fit to return." Hermione remained silent, and he cleared his throat. "Ah...Miss Granger?"

"When?" She snapped her head up and looked at him, as she asked her question with a considerable amount of force. "When did this happen?"

"I've just received news of this. I believe it happened just under an hour ago." He had replied, sharing a concerned look with McGonagall. "Miss Granger, if you would like Professor McGonagall to accompany you back to your room -"

Hermione had appeared not to hear him, as she stood up abruptly, her jaw set firm. "Thank you, Professors," was all she said, rather coolly, before she left his office, leaving the two professors' expressions to change from concern to worry. She had then stalked back to the dining hall, where she had burst through the doors forcibly, and over to her friends. The entire hall was watching as she looked at Harry.

"I need your cloak."

"What's the matter?" Ron had asked gently, reaching out to hold her hand, as Harry blinked at her in surprise.

"My cloak?"

"I need it. Now." Magick had burned the air when she spoke those words. Everyone could feel the raw power radiating from her, driven and fueled by her anger and grief. Harry seemed taken aback, and momentarily hesitant. He had looked at her with a question in his emerald eyes, and she had simply said, "He killed my parents."

Gasps were heard all over the hall, and Ron and Ginny looked rather faint. Harry had met her eyes with a hard look, and she had, for a moment, expected him to refuse, but instead, he had nodded. "Sure. I'll get it for you." And just like that, he had stood up and walked to his dorm, with her behind him and Ron and Ginny behind her, sputtering protests as they figured out what she was planning to do.

"Hermione, you cant possibly be planning to -"

"He'll kill you too, if you -"

But she had ignored them.

Just then, the glowing light went out, but she was not left in darkness. Instead, she found herself in front of a rather impressive, if somewhat old-looking, mansion, staring straight at the person she had come all this way to see. He was standing on the porch of the house, and smiled at her as she approached him.

"Hello, Hermione. Long time no see."

"Hello, Draco."

AN: I don't seem to be getting many reviews for this story. pouts Please remedy that?