A/N: I think this goddamn story has a curse on it. Every time I start writing it again and posting it I do it right before a new book comes out. Shit. I guess I have to get my ass in gear if I want to finish it before the new book comes out. If only I can write a chapter a night…lol. Enjoy! Adios!

-CatJetRat

Chapter 3

Allies Against Voldemort

Pre HBP

Normal POV

The girl pulled herself up on the monkey bars. The sides were rotting slightly, but considering that she weighed very little, this wasn't a big problem. She lowered herself slowly down before pulling herself up again. She gritted her teeth. Acquiring her magic was one thing, but recovering her physical strength was another completely. After about fifty pull-ups, she let herself down again, an established frown on her face. She had hoped that she would never have to do this again. When she was eleven she had forced her body to become strong to enhance her physical magic, and she had hated it. It was much easier to just stay fit and strong than to become so. She rubbed her neck, irritated.

"So how's it going?" Voldemort asked, coming up behind her.

"Go away," she moaned, covering her face with her hands. "Or I'll be forced to punch you again."

Voldemort retreated slightly, but was smiling nonetheless. "It's going to take you a very long time to get to where you were before," he remarked.

"Whatever," she muttered, knowing he was right.

"Probably about five months or more to get there. And you know that the longer Harry goes without having his memories recovered, the harder it will be to recover them," Voldemort said with a smirk.

The girl whipped around, fire in her eyes. She grabbed his collar and hissed, "How about I just take all of your strength?"

Still smirking, Voldemort said, "You know as well as I do that if you did that you would be getting very little strength. My body strength relies almost solely upon my magical strength, and that's not what you need."

"Sod off," the girl snarled, brushing past him.

"You know I'm right about both things," Voldemort said in a know-it-all tone and crossed his arms.

"Yes," she sneered, her lip curling. "But you seem to be operating under the delusion that I care. I could retrieve Harry's memories when he was ninety if I wanted to."

"You could," Voldemort conceded. "But you won't."

"Sure about that?" she asked lightly, but there was a trace of ice in her words.

An evil smile crossed Voldemort's face. "Yes. You see, what you aren't taking into account is that it was not only his memories that were erased. You'll have to revive all of Europe's memories of you, because that's how far Dumbledore's charm stretched."

Her eyes widened. "He can do that?" She gasped. "I thought it was only me that could."

Voldemort shook his head. "You made the mistake of underestimating Dumbledore."

"That will never happen again," she muttered. She glanced at Voldemort, and something seemed to occur to her.

"Wait," she muttered, staring at him. "How come you remember me?"

Voldemort smiled. "I wondered when that would come to your mind."

"It came to mind long beforehand; I just didn't deem it important enough to ask at the time," she muttered.

Voldemort ignored her. "I remember you because the second Harry left the graveyard I cast a spell over the entire place to protect me and all my death eaters from spells or eyes. It was powerful enough to cancel out Dumbledore's spell."

She nodded, accepting this. After all, he had no real reason to lie as far as she knew. But whatever. If he was lying she would get it out of him when she was questioning him after slipping some Veritiserum into his drink, which she planned on doing before she left. She looked around. "Where are we, anyway?" She asked curiously.

"My old orphanage," Voldemort responded impassively.

She nodded at this also. Voldemort gazed at her for a few moments, before leaving her. She stared after him briefly, an unreadable expression on her face, before she got back on the ground and began doing push-ups.

DH

Draco ran a comb through his night-mussed hair and donned a pair of worn, Muggle jeans which were, he hated to admit, quite comfortable, stuck his wand through a belt loop in them and trotted downstairs, bare-chested. On impulse he conjured a vase of roses on the bare, hall table and smiled. Every day he tried to do something to brighten up the house a bit. Malfoy Manor hadn't exactly been warm and inviting, but Draco had done his best to make the place homey while still maintaining its magnificence. Roses had the air of royalty.

Slightly more cheerful, Draco walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Remus Lupin, though initially ill-disposed towards him, had warmed and taught him how to cook things the Muggle way. He also taught him several more Muggle things, in case Draco ever had to go into hiding as a Muggle from the Dark Lord. Though cooking the Muggle way was slow, Draco had to admit it was quite relaxing. Baking was his favorite, though, in cooking spaghetti and meat sauce, he discovered he had a flair for spices. Draco smiled and pulled out some bacon, eggs, and English Muffins.

When the front door opened ten minutes later, the smell of bacon was filling the air, and Draco was slicing up tomatoes, onions, cheese, and some other ingredients to put in the omelets he was making. Draco quickly waved his wand and the spatula and knife continued to do the work while he went to greet Professor McGonagall, who said she was bringing a guest to stay for a couple days.

Draco grabbed a shirt off the counter and shrugged it on over his shoulders, put on his best greeting smile, and went to the hallway. The smile slipped of his face faster than warm butter and he swore when he saw who it was.

"Now, Harry," Professor McGonagall said warily as Harry and Draco glared at each other across the hall. Well, Draco did most of the glaring. Harry looked rather dumbfounded. "I've talked with Draco a great deal, and he's not dangerous. He's agreed to work for our side. He made an Unbreakable Vow of loyalty to the group."

"Not quite the same as a usual Unbreakable Vow," Malfoy said, seemingly on impulse to Harry. "If I tried to break it I would simply be stripped of all my memories of time spent in the Order."

"But…you're…dead!" Harry burst out, and McGonagall winced while Malfoy grinned broadly.

"Potter, Potter, I'm ashamed of you," Malfoy tsked. "I thought you knew better than to believe everything you read."

Harry flushed. Professor McGonagall spoke. "Oh, no, Harry, I forgot about what the papers said. I thought I would have a chance to explain everything myself…Merlin." She sighed. "Well, we might as well sit down and have breakfast. I'll explain everything."

Still watching Malfoy warily, Harry followed him into the kitchen and sat down, where the delicious scent of cooking food hit his nose. His stomach growled, and Malfoy smirked. Harry glared. Now that he knew Malfoy wasn't dead, his old animosity came rushing back, stronger than ever, for Harry felt that Malfoy had personally insulted him by pretending to be dead. He had cried for the stupid bastard, for heaven's sake! Now he wasn't dead, and Harry felt little else but embarrassment and anger.

Breakfast was served, and Harry, in spite of his inhibitions, dove into the food with surprising gusto. Malfoy gazed at him in slight disgust, but Harry ignored him and finished his bacon, omelet, and toast in record time, four minutes fifteen seconds.

"All right," Harry said, brushing crumbs off of his chin. "Talk."

"What, you aren't going to thank me for the lovely meal?" Malfoy asked sarcastically.

Harry shrugged. "Thanks," he said. "Now talk."

"What's there to explain?" Malfoy shot back. He hadn't touched his food. "I came over to the Light Side, and Professor McGonagall helped me fake my death to protect me and my parents."

"How does that help your parents?" Harry asked. "They aren't pretending to be dead somewhere."

"No," Malfoy conceded, lips tightening. "But the Dark Lord thinks I'm dead, and Dumbledore's dead. He now thinks he has full control of my parents, and, as they don't know anything, they can't give away the fact that I'm still alive. In a few months, we'll hide my mother, and then my father, whether they want it or not. I won't have my family dying in this war, even if they have to go to Azkaban afterwards."

Harry glanced at Professor McGonagall, whose hand was clenched tightly over her wand. Clearly she was afraid the conversation would spin out of control. "You trust him?" Harry said, voice slightly aggressive.

"No, Potter, I don't, and that's why I have him here, instead of in Azkaban," Professor McGonagall snapped, her sarcasm eerily mirroring Malfoy's.

Harry frowned, and glanced at Malfoy, but he couldn't think of any argument against keeping him. After all, Dumbledore offered protection, didn't he? "Are you coming back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I'll just waltz right in and blow my cover," Malfoy snarled, rising from his chair. "Merlin, Potter, are you incapable of asking any intelligent questions whatsoever?" He snatched Harry's plate from him and waved his wand. The plate cleaned itself. He waved his wand again and the food on his own plate vanished, and the plate was left clean.

"Draco, if you wouldn't mind," Professor McGonagall said, gesturing at her own plate.

"Of course, Professor," he said, his voice suddenly respectful. He waved his wand again, and returned the clean plates to the cabinet. He flicked his wand once more, and the kitchen was left clean, everything put away.

"I must take my leave," McGonagall said, standing up and pushing her wand back into her robes. "I trust you two can take care of yourselves?"

Harry hadn't expected her to leave, but he wasn't about to be the first one to protest. He nodded, and Draco did the same. "Good," she said, and embraced Draco. Harry looked away, a sick feeling in his stomach. She clasped Harry's shoulder, and then left.

Pre HBP

The young girl smiled as she observed the Death Eater meeting from afar. She could clearly distinguish all of them, and her smile widened when she spotted Snape. They continued conversing for a few minutes before the meeting came to an end. Snape lagged behind to speak with a few others in private, which was what she had been hoping for. Swiftly and quietly, she moved forward and stayed in the shadows as the other Death Eaters left. Snape was about to leave too, but she called out for him.

"Severus," she called smoothly.

Snape froze, as though hardly daring to believe his ears. He slowly turned around on the spot, and she emerged from the shadows. "You!" he hissed.

"Me," she said, her smile relaxed.

Snape shook his head, staring hard at her as though hoping she'd disappear. "You shouldn't be here," he said quietly, sweeping past her, his long robes billowing. .

"Oh, Severus, don't be so cold. What happened? You used to like me," she responded with a smirk.

Snape turned around on the spot and sized her up. "You've gained weight," he commented.

She scowled. "A problem that is quickly being remedied. You look as fabulous as ever," she said, with a rather wry smile.

He sighed. "Dumbledore thinks you're dead."

"Does he, now? Gee, I wasn't under the impression that he cared. Or that he wanted anyone else to care, for that matter," she said bitterly. "Have you enlightened him as to my continued existence?"

Snape shook his head. "The Dark Lord has forbidden us to speak of you to any except other Death Eaters. Dumbledore continues to believe in your utter and complete demise."

She shook her head in disgust. "He should know better than that. The fool."

Severus's next words were clipped and icy. "You of all people should not speak of underestimating people. The Dark Lord told us of your blunder."

The girl's eyes darkened. "I'll kill him," she snarled, getting up and pulling her wand out. "Where is he?"

Snape sighed, sounding tired. "Do not be foolish enough to try and kill him again. You know as well as I that that never ever works."

"Well, he couldn't kill me either, could he?" she said defiantly.

Snape shook his head, and, for the first time that night, he looked amused. "No, I suppose he couldn't." He then muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" she asked grumpily.

"Nothing, nothing," Snape said airily. "Shouldn't you be off killing someone?" he added with a smirk.

"Ha, ha, you're hysterical, as always," she said, and though she tried to sound annoyed, there was a slight smile on her face. She missed these times with Snape, their playful banter.

A smile was lighting up his face too. He reached out and grasped her hand. "I'm glad he couldn't kill you," Severus said sincerely, squeezing once before dropping her hand. She inclined her head, and sent him a mental message. As they were both very skilled in Legilimency, they had found a way to transmit thoughts to one another, while blocking it from all others using Occlumency. And I am glad he did not kill you, she sent him.

As am I. It was close, but I managed to make him believe me, though he is still watching me closely, he responded.

Just keep it up. The Light Side needs you, she told him.

He nodded. Enough for now; it's too dangerous, he thought.

She nodded also and smiled. She rose and began to leave, but Snape's voice stopped her.

"Wait, madam. The Dark Lord has informed us that you have changed your name temporarily. Is this true?" Snape called.

She paused and turned around. "My name? Yes, for now, I have decided that my old name must go into hiding."

"Why?"

"Well," she said with a mysterious smile, "This is a new phase in my life, so why shouldn't I have a new name? Also," she added, more seriously, "If I need to interact with others who don't remember me, I don't want to give my old name, in case it triggers something. I want to be remembered, but on my own terms. So now I have a new name."

"Have you finally decided to use the name your mother gave you originally?" Snape asked, the curiosity evident in his voice.

She laughed, a tinkling laugh that almost creepily mirrored her father's. "Now, now Severus, the game isn't up yet!" she said, and her eyes twinkled. "When it is, I shall tell you. But not yet. No, I have chosen a name to represent what I am."

"Which is?" Snape asked, beginning to sound slightly frustrated. Her smile widened.

"It is a name that suits me perfectly: Mnemosyne."

Snape wrinkled his nose, though he smiled slightly. "Ah, I see…" he murmured. "It fits you, I suppose. And I like the meaning behind it. However, aren't you worried it's a bit complicated?"

"It's my choice. Besides, someone will eventually come up with a nickname. I'm sure of it."

Snape nodded. "So I suppose that is what you wish to be called now?"

She smiled sadly. "Call me what you want. That is merely my new name to be given to people."

He shrugged. "I'll call you Mnemosyne. But I liked your other name better."

Mnemosyne shrugged. "It matters not. Besides, it is not permanent. Come, we must be off. I have much I wish to discuss with you, and I would rather do it in a warm Muggle tea shop than this cold, dank graveyard."

They stood and left. Their eavesdropper narrowed his eyes. Mnemosyne? What a foolish choice for a name. It did not fit her at all, despite what Snape had said. And with a shake of his head, Voldemort swept away, muttering.

DH

"I'll show you to your room," Malfoy muttered, not looking at Harry. Harry grabbed his trunk and levitated it up the stairs, following Malfoy. He was given the room the girls, Hermione and Ginny, had shared in fifth year. Malfoy vanished the moment he made it clear that it was Harry's room, and Harry frowned, unsure of what to do. With a small sigh, he set his trunk down next to the bed and sat on it. He felt jittery, nervous, and didn't understand why Professor McGonagall had insisted he come here. Wouldn't it have been enough just to tell him about Draco Malfoy? After all, he hadn't ever wanted to come to this place again. Just being there gave him the creeps, as though Sirius was still there, watching him.

He quickly decided that it would be best to stay packed, seeing as how he was leaving a day after tomorrow. He glanced around and realized that he was far too full of nervous energy for it to be contained in one room. Harry quietly pulled opened the door and padded down the stairs. He went through room after room, pausing in each one, remembering his time there, cleaning it out with the Weasleys and Sirius. When he reached the drawing room he paused, looking at the Black family tree, which, for some reason, hadn't been taken out yet. In the light of the sun, shining through the curtains, Harry traced the golden lines, finger coming to rest on Sirius's burned-out name, beside his brother, Regulus, killed seventeen years before. His eyes cast around, landing on the name Lucius Malfoy, connected to Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Narcissa Black. His eyes darkened as they landed on the name of one of her sisters, Bellatrix Black, now Bellatrix Lestrange. Pushing aside thoughts about how much he would love to maim and destroy her, Harry's eyes alighted on Molly Prewett, now Molly Weasley. He grinned and looked back at the Malfoys. So…Draco and the Weasley children were fourth cousins. He wondered what Malfoy would do if he knew about this connection to those he so despised. Speak of the devil….

"Looking at my family history, Potter?" Malfoy drawled. Harry jumped, and felt his cheeks flame. It was still odd and embarrassing to be addressed by someone he had thought was dead. Harry struggled to remain nonchalant.

"Yeah. You're related to the Weasleys, did you know?" Harry said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Yes," Malfoy said disdainfully, walking over and standing next to Harry, gazing at the family tree. "Fourth cousins, I believe, with the children. Sirius Black was my first cousin, once removed."

Harry's hand gave an involuntary twitch at the name, and at the realization that he was standing next to someone who had the same blood which once ran through Sirius's veins. Harry glanced at Malfoy surreptitiously, wondering if he had any features similar to Sirius's. Harry was surprised to note that he did. Malfoy was standing up straight, something Sirius rarely did, but he had the same dark, brooding look Sirius wore, and was running his fingers through his hair in the same way Harry often saw Sirius do.

It was almost too much to bear. Harry turned away and sat down heavily in a chair. Malfoy stayed standing next to the family tree, and his back was turned to Harry when he next spoke.

"You followed me all year." His voice was soft, but nonetheless audible. He turned around, and caught sight of Harry's surprised face. "Yes, I noticed. I was wondering if you might tell me why."

"I—" Harry hesitated, and plowed on, figuring it couldn't hurt to say. "I thought you were a Death Eater. My friends were convinced I was going mad, and becoming too obsessed with you, but I was right in the end."

Malfoy's eyebrows raised slightly, but that was the only sign that anything Harry said had affected him. "When did you start to suspect?"

"Before school started." At the look on Malfoy's face, Harry continued hastily. "Ron, Hermione and I saw you go into Borgin and Burkes and we heard your conversation. I sort of…figured it out from there."

"But your followers didn't?" Malfoy's pale eyebrows arched even higher.

"They aren't my followers, they're my friends," Harry muttered. Malfoy snorted. "And no, they didn't."

There was a short pause. When Malfoy spoke again, it was in a slightly strangled voice. "I know you were there that night."

Harry considered playing dumb for a moment, and then discarded the notion. "Really? How?"

"McGonagall told me. She said you were underneath your invisibility cloak, and that you were frozen by a spell of Dumbledore's." Malfoy's voice faltered a bit at the name, but he continued on ruthlessly. "How much did you see?"

"All of it," Harry whispered.

"Ah." Malfoy cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair again. Harry's eyes flicked away. "I want you to know—I regret what happen. I never liked Dumbledore, but it was decent of him to offer me and my family protection, and even more decent of McGonagall to follow through after—after what happened."

"'Decent.'" Harry felt something inside him snap at Malfoy's words. "It was more than bloody decent of him! He was heroic! Until the very last, when you offered him up to the Death Eaters, to Snape—" Harry spat the word "—like a piece of meat."

Malfoy flinched. "I'm trying to offer a truce," he said in a voice of barely contained anger.

"You can take your truce and shove it!" Harry was shouting, on his feet now, anger that he hadn't felt since the night Dumbledore died coursing through his veins. "If it wasn't for you, Dumbledore would still be alive!"

"Do you think I don't know that, Potter?!" Malfoy had lost his temper, and his eyes were wild, practically ice chips of silver spitting cold fire at Harry. "Do you think I don't lie awake every night, tossing and turning, wondering where my life went wrong? Do you think I like having to hide from everyone I thought I could trust, giving myself over to the mercy of people like you? Everything in my life is screwed, Potter, and Dumbledore is dead!" Malfoy's voice broke, and Harry saw tears glistening in his eyes. "A man is dead because I was too much of a coward to do what I knew was right. If I had stopped for half a second to think about the 'Dark Lord' and how idiotic he is I would have stopped what I was doing and turned myself in! But I didn't think. I just worked on fixing the vanishing cabinet, convinced that all my problems would be solved then. Now I'm faced with a host of new ones, because I realized the right thing to do too late! You don't know what it's like, Potter, to be raised your entire life believing that something is wrong, that one man is godlike and good, only to meet him and realize he'd disgusting and cruel, and nothing matters but power. There's no room for love and hope and happiness. Just power. So much power. I thought I wanted it, but I didn't! It was just too much, and so evil, and full of hate. I just—" Malfoy's voice fell away, and his head turned to the side. He took several deep breaths, turning his face up to the ceiling, and Harry realized he was holding back tears. "I just wanted to make my parents proud."

Harry wasn't quite sure what to say. He did know that he hadn't expected that kind of outburst from Malfoy. He reached a hand out to Malfoy, and let it fall away. He knew that what Malfoy need was reassurance of some kind, but he didn't know how to give it. Had Harry been his mother, he simply could have held Malfoy. As a friend, he could have consoled Malfoy. But what to do as a rival?

"Malfoy," he said firmly. "Look at me." Unwillingly, Malfoy's gaze met his, and Harry saw dislike course through his eyes, similar to the dislike Harry was feeling at that moment. "I don't like you very much, and I know you don't like me. But there's a war going on. You've suffered, I've suffered, everyone's suffered, and everyone has made mistakes. But right now, that doesn't matter. We need, need to defeat Voldemort." Malfoy drew in a swift breath, but otherwise didn't comment on the name, his eyes locked on Harry's face. "Innocent people are dying out there, and we both need to do what we can to stop that. Can you help the Light Side, or are you too busy reliving your mistakes in the Dark?"

Something seemed to move within Malfoy, and his face became resolute. "I can help," he said decisively.

"Good." Harry paused for a moment, and then held his hand out to Malfoy's. "Allies against Voldemort?"

Malfoy gazed at Harry's hand, and a trace of a smile caressed his face before he took it.

"Allies against Voldemort."

A/N: Whew. Damn, that just sort of poured out of me like piss. Lol, but hopefully it's worth more. Now, what's this five reviews crap we got going on? Review the bloody thing! You took the time to read it! Review it! Lol. Adios!

-CatJetRat