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 Eight: More Awkward Moments and Random Thoughts

It took eight cookies before Ginny finally realized that Harry was stuffing his mouth so he wouldn't have to speak. Rolling her eyes, she waved her hand and the cookies disappeared, save for the last half that was still in Harry's clutches. His eyes widened as he figured out that she had figured out what he was doing, and he immediately slowed down his chewing, holding onto the last bit of cookie like it was a lifeline. Ginny noticed this and smirked at him with an arched brow.

"You have five minutes to finish that, then you are going to start talking."

Harry began to protest. "But -"

"But nothing. Merlin help me, Harry James Potter, if I have to tie you down, and force Veritaserum down your throat…I'll do it." Ginny fixed him with a look that said, in no uncertain terms, that she would definitely keep her word. He swallowed hard, wincing slightly at her expression.

"Okay," he squeaked out. He quickly finished off the last half of the cookie and cleared his throat. Then…silence. He looked down at his hands, brushing off imaginary remnants of cookie crumbs. Ginny watched him. He seemed to be thinking hard. For a while, she reflected on what Harry must be going through, and she immediately felt bad at how harsh she was being. But then again, she reminded herself, if I don't push him, he'll never tell anyone about what's bothering him. All this bottling up of emotions cant possibly be good for him. She didn't like making Harry relive horrible memories and visions, but she knew he'd be a walking time bomb if he kept it all to himself, as he was very much prone to doing, with both the pent-up emotions and the likely explosion from it.

It was a few long minutes before she lightly touched his arm, and he lifted his eyes to gaze into hers. Instead of the intensely piercing stare they had shared earlier, this one was filled with a rush of bubbling, roiling emotions – she could see pain, confusion, anger, guilt, and oddly enough – desire. Gods, I hope Harry isn't having those type of dreams involving Voldemort. She couldn't help but shudder at the thought, despite the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Then she realized just how silly it was, and she stifled a giggle. Harry was giving her a very strange look now, and she sobered up. "Will you tell me?" she asked softly.

He regarded her for a little while, and she was briefly worried that he would refuse. But he swallowed again, and nodded slowly. "It was…I don't know. One minute I was having a perfectly -" He paused, a blush rising to his cheeks as he glanced at her. "I was having a nice dream, for once, then all of a sudden, he's there in my head. He was planning something."

Something about the way he turned red and looked at her unnerved Ginny a little, but the fact he just said that Voldemort was planning something kept her from dwelling on it. "Planning?"

He swallowed. "Yeah. Something big, I think. He was…pleased. But kind of…I don't know…evil." He flushed again. "I mean, I know he is evil. But he was feeling…malicious. And seemed pretty happy about his plans. So I guess, whatever he's planning - "

"It isn't a party." She finished for him.

"Or it is to him," Harry said quietly. He shook his head. "I don't think I'll ever get it, how he can be so happy about causing so much pain."

"Well, not like I'm sympathizing with the evil bastard," Ginny quirked an eyebrow. "But maybe he had a hard life."

"Such language, Gin," he chastised teasingly. "And I doubt it was that hard. I mean, it's nothing compared to what I -" He suddenly seemed very aware that he was saying something he did not mean to, and paused abruptly. She observed this, and silently debated if she ought to call him on it. But Harry had started talking again. "It doesn't justify what he does, you know. His life couldn't have been that tough, that he would turn evil and try to destroy all the reminders of his past."

"It's not like we don't know people who did just that," she reminded him, a note of sadness and bitterness in her voice. "And, well, again, not that I'm sympathizing, but I sort of knew – him. When he was young. All the things he went through."

"The diary." He said matter-of-factly, apparently avoiding the other point that she had brought up. But then again, she didn't blame him. It was sort of a sore and painful point for the both of them. "Still don't know why the ponce kept a diary."

She chuckled. "Its not a manly thing to do?"

He shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. "Nah. Real men don't talk about their feelings. Or haven't you heard the complaints of a million women around the world, and read the studies done in various magazines?" He flashed a grin then, which made her slightly dizzy. Still, she remained composed.

"I thought those were mostly found in women's magazines, Harry, so what exactly are you doing reading them?" She couldn't help teasing him.

"Its called getting into the female psyche. A tough job, but somebody's got to do it." He puffed out a bit in jest, and she giggled at his silliness.

"Always the hero, aren't you, Harry?"

His entire demeanour seemed to change with that one sentence. He immediately stopped smiling, his eyes darkened, and his whole body tensed up. "I'm not," he spat out. "A bloody hero."

She was rather taken aback by his sudden swing in temperament, and found herself slightly afraid of him, her best friend. Harry Potter, boy wonder of the wizarding world, saviour to the people. But he was more than that, she mused. He was also one of the most powerful wizards in history, the one Voldemort himself truly feared. She studied him carefully now, since she was rarely ever on this end of his temper. With the venom in his voice and cold steel in his gaze, she suddenly saw what his opponents in battle must see – a formidable man with an even more formidable temper. She knew now why he was so feared, and revered. Anyone stupid enough to cross his path when he was in this mood was surely asking for trouble. Whoops. I had better placate him soon, she realized.

"Harry, I was kidding," she said gently. He remained silent and still for a while. "Harry? Please don't be angry with me?" She tried to catch his gaze. "I didn't mean to…I just…I'm sorry. Don't be mad."

He looked in her general direction – but not directly at her, she noticed - and she could see his fury slowly dissipating. He scowled at her a little, then relaxed. "S'okay," he muttered. He still wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Hey," she said softly. Her hand, which had been resting on his arm the whole time, moved up to lightly graze his jawline, as she leaned in a little, tilting her head in another attempt to catch his eye. He started a bit, then turned his gaze onto her. She smiled at him warmly.

He stared at her for a while, then, after a long moment, curved his lips up into a smile of his own. He raised his hand up to meet hers, and gently entwined their fingers together, rather absent-mindedly. "I just hate being considered the hero, you know?" he said suddenly, almost conversationally. "I mean, I wouldn't mind, if it were for a good reason. But there isn't. A good reason, I mean. I…I've been one since I was a baby. I hadn't even done anything of my own merit, and all over the world, people looked to me like I'm God on Earth. Then I had to spend my teenage years battling an evil wizard, which made me even more of a bloody hero. And now…I don't know if I could ever be anyone – anything – else. I'd like to be, though. I…I don't know. I just wish…sometimes. I wish I could be normal." He let out a hollow laugh. "I guess not, though. Even when I fight my last fight with Voldemort, there'll only be two outcomes – either I die, a hero for trying; or I win, and become even more of a goddamned hero." He paused for a while, and glanced down at their entwined fingers. For a while Ginny thought that maybe he hadn't realized he was doing it, and half-expected him to drop her hand like a hot potato – curious phrase, that was – but he merely kept staring at it, absently stroking her thumb with his.

"You know, you're really hard to stay mad at." He spoke quietly; although she was already close, she had to lean in a little more to catch what he was saying, and then he was suddenly fixing her with one of his immensely intense gazes. She caught her breath at the suddenness, and couldn't help but be mesmerized by his brilliant emerald eyes, which shone and darkened as he talked, reflecting his emotions precisely. Right now it was a mixture of both, and despite Harry always being fairly easy to read, she found herself unable to decipher what he was thinking or feeling.

She swallowed hard – her throat seemed to have gone rather dry. "Am I, now?" she managed to get out.

He continued as if she hadn't said a word. "And, for some reason, you make me compelled to confess everything that I'm thinking and feeling." She simply blinked at him, and he gave her a half-smile, half-smirk, an expression that was at once infuriating and intoxicating, incensing and devastating. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to both smack him and kiss him senseless. He looked her over rather blatantly, as he shifted nearer to her. She was about to open her mouth to make a remark about that, but found that she couldn't.

"I wonder what it is about you…" And now he had moved even closer, his voice was a low murmur, and she felt thrills shoot up and down her spine, stopping at the pit of her tummy. Her nervous habit of licking her lips resurfaced. Her hand was still in his, she could tell, by the feel of his gentle grip that he was warm and strong, and also, now, he was less than a foot away…so close. So close she could feel the gentle tickle of his breath as he spoke…

"I wonder…"

AN: I think I may have accidentally given away a little too much in the last chapter, sigh. I really meant to try to keep the little bit of suspense and mystery about Ron, because that's only really supposed to come in Chapter 10. Anyhoo, its out there now, sort of. But not officially, so shh!

Thanks to tiggieotoo, as always, and the dream-spilling will come about in a while. Some fluff gets in the way, hehe. And thank you to PettigrewWillPay – love the nick, I couldn't agree more – for reviewing! Cookies to both of you, and anyone else reading this story – please review for a cookie!