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ENEMY

It is better to travel with an enemy

than with a friend. With a friend,

you may rest peacefully, but with

an enemy, you must always watch

your back. Constant Vigilance!

-Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody

The Auror's Survival Guide, Chapter One

When Ginny Weasley first came to him asking for help, two months into the beginning of the school year, her fiery red hair mussed and brown eyes worried, Draco Malfoy thought it was some kind of joke.

He stared at her incredulously, an eyebrow raised. Since the summer before his 6th year at Hogwarts and with the steadily growing threat of the Dark Lord's next move on the wizarding world, Draco had wavered uncertainly, not quite sure that he was on the right side of the war. Lord Voldemort's teachings no longer made the perfect sense to him they once had; suddenly, he wanted to know why. Why was it a bad thing to be Muggleborn? What was it that made Muggles inferior?

The truth was, Draco was no longer content with the explanations his father had been feeding him his entire life. They seemed childish and hidebound, the same ideas his family had clung to stubbornly for centuries. He could no longer believe that certain people were better than others for no other reason than "just because". But in all of his musings, he had never thought that someone from the other side- especially a Weasley-would ask him for help.

It was summer. Draco had always thought that summer was the worst time of year. Leaving Hogwarts to return to the nearly empty Malfoy Manor, whose long hallways echoed with faint screams from the dungeons. Many of the paintings on the walls had empty canvases, the portraits long gone. The ones left behind never stayed in one place, flitting from frame to frame, seen only in vague flashes of color just out of the corner of your eye; ghosts of a half- forgotten past.

His mother was rarely around, keeping to her suite of rooms and staying out of his father's way. She had done her duty and produced an heir; Lucius no longer needed her except on special occasions, when he would wear her on his arm like another piece of expensive jewelry. Lucius was always there, a presence that Draco had never found oppressive, but had always craved before his sixteenth birthday.

He hadn't received any presents that year; his father had deemed him unworthy of gifts since he hadn't yet proved himself. He wasn't a smart as the Mudblood Granger, and he wasn't as good at Quidditch as Harry Potter, which to Lucius was unacceptable.

Draco had raged at first. He had thrown books at the house-elves who squeaked and disappeared with loud cracks, before he had smashed his mother's entire china collection. Narcissa had come in, and seen him standing amidst the wreckage. She regarded him out of ice blue eyes, and languidly summoned the house-elves back with an elegant hand to clean up the mess. He had run then; run from the cold disdain of his own mother, tried to run from his own growing hatred of himself.

He had found himself outside the dungeons, drawn by the screams that were louder than before, screams he could no longer ignore. Screams he could no longer pretend were figments of his imagination. The truth hit him fiercely as the cries of human agony rose in his ears.

This was not what he wanted. This was not who he wanted to be.

The path his father had chosen to walk, serving the Dark Lord and obeying his every twisted whim, was not the path Draco wanted to follow. His sense of right and wrong was shifting; but to what? He had nowhere to turn, no new set of beliefs to replace the old. Draco fled once more, this time from his growing confusion.

Summer was the worst time of year. Everything changes in summer.

Draco looked at the girl standing in front of him wringing her hands, and had to laugh. Ginny flushed and turned to leave, but Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty classroom, away from prying eyes and ears.

"You're asking me?" He said finally, dropping her arm and crossing his own. "Help with what?"

The next words out of her mouth made him sit down swiftly, his already pale skin paling even further.

"I want to become a Death Eater."

INTERLUDE

He liked it best when I screamed.

Sometimes, I would scream even before he touched me, because the more I did, the sooner it would be over. I would send my mind away when he hurt me. Far away to a Place in my head, somewhere I was safe and no one could ever hurt me again. My Place was where he could never find.

He liked to take me out in public and act kindly, holding me tenderly, and when people looked at me strangely, He would tell them about the horrible "accident" that I had been in and how He had cared for me during the worst of my pain. I hated when He did this and loved it, all at the same time, just like I hated and loved Him. He would tell me He never meant to hurt me and that He never would again. I would believe Him each time, my heart pounding as I thought of not having to go to my Place anymore, of Him letting me go. Later, when we went home He would laugh as He raped me, and I would scream.

He liked it best when I screamed.

Ginevra Weasley considered herself a sensible girl. Which is why, when she came up with her plan, she went to the first person she knew could help her. That person was Draco Malfoy.

Of course, she realized that there was a long-standing enmity between their two families, not to mention the further bitterness that had arisen between Draco and Harry Potter, but she had noticed a change in him since the beginning of the year. As the war approached, times were changing, and people were caught up in its inexorable flow towards the future. Draco, it seemed, more than others.

He was quieter, more thoughtful, and his constant bickering and insults had tapered away gradually into nothing. When he had bumped into Ginny one day in the hallway and apologized absently, she had started watching him. As soon as she got over her shock- which had taken several days - she realized that not only was he fastidious almost to the point of obsession - which she found quite funny, really - but that he seemed to be watching other people as well. He never noticed Ginny watching him, but nobody ever saw her when she didn't want to be seen. Draco would pretend to be studying, but Ginny could fake that with the best of them, and she could always tell. The more she looked, the more she realized with growing consternation that he was changing his mind.

He would watch Muggleborn witches and wizards with his elegant brow furrowed, as if trying to discover what was wrong with them. By his confusion, Ginny could tell that the answers he was getting were not the ones he had expected. Yes, times were most definitely changing.

That morning at breakfast, Ginny had watched Draco dismiss Tweedledee and Tweedledum impatiently when they hovered over him as he lingered at his meal. She had been distracted from her almost constant regard of him by Errol, the family owl, falling into her porridge. She fished him out wearily for the hundredth time and untied the letter from his trembling leg. Flicking oatmeal off of the edges, she tore it open gingerly.

Dear Ginny and Ron, the letter read in shaky handwriting; Bill has disappeared from his latest dig in King Tut's tomb in Egypt, and none of the other curse breakers or any of his friends have seen him since three nights ago on Friday. I don't want to worry either of you (Ron, don't you and Harry do anything foolish!), but I thought that you should know. I've also written Headmaster Dumbledore and I'm sure he will take care of everything. This may be Order business or not, so don't tell anyone at school, except Harry and Hermione of course. Send them both my love, and don't forget to brush your teeth. Love always, Mum.

Death Eaters, Ginny thought frantically, running her hands through her hair, a thing she always did when she was worried. It had to be. The table was rapidly emptying around her, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron had already left to get ready for the Hogsmeade trip. Dumbledore had decided that although Voldemort was at large, cowering at the school in fear for their lives wouldn't help anyone. Several aurors from the Ministry and the Order came each time to escort the students to and from Hogsmeade. Ginny saw Draco leave the Great Hall and had what seemed- at the time- to be a brilliant idea.

Now, standing in front of Draco who looked absolutely shocked, her idea seemed a little juvenile. She was only fifteen! What help could she possibly be? Even if by some wild stretch of the imagination, she managed to infiltrate the Death Eater ranks, what if Bill wasn't even there? Then where would she be? This was a stupid idea, she thought miserably, and turned to beat a hasty, if embarrassed, retreat. Hopefully, Draco would write off her horrible mistake as a bad joke.

But she felt his hand on her arm again as he pulled her down to sit beside him. She avoided his eyes, focusing on the floor beneath her feet. She noticed a scuff on one of her shoes, and tucked it behind the chair luck surreptitiously, jumping guiltily as he spoke.

"What brought on this sudden hunger for darkness?" He asked in a surprisingly gentle voice. Ginny squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.

"It was a stupid idea," she admitted, cheeks reddening with shame.

"Yes it was," Draco agreed, calmer now that he was in control of the situation. "Voldemort would destroy you. Slowly." Ginny flinched at the name of the Dark Lord, and Draco continued.

"So why would a Muggle-lover want to be a Death Eater?" Ginny ignored his political incorrectness, and the whole story came out gradually, with patient promptings from Draco when she faltered. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, shaking his head at her. Ginny flushed again.

"I know, I know, it was a dumb thing to think of! But I have to do something! Anything." Draco stood suddenly, and Ginny looked up at him pleadingly, trying not to blush as his cool grey eyes bore into hers.

"This doesn't mean we're friends," Draco said, not unkindly. "I-I'll see what I can do." He left the room quickly, his robes flaring behind him and reminding Ginny briefly of Snape.

Cocoa butter, Ginny thought, remembering how close Draco had sat to her. He smells like cocoa butter. She shivered, trying to shake off the scent, and exited the room as well. She headed toward the Gryffindor common room, attempting to push thoughts of Draco away to concentrate on the upcoming Hogsmeade trip.

She almost succeeded.