Especially Our Enemies

“I wondered if you were going to cut out on me,” Malfoy said.

“Neville’s wife wanted to talk about babies,” I muttered.

“How was that?” he asked, his voice flat. I looked at him, a little surprised.

“Uncomfortable,” I admitted, picking up a menu. I watched him as he glanced over his with the same disinterested gaze he had leveled on me. We ordered and I sipped at my water for a few minutes, waiting for him to say something. He was staring through me, spinning his glass in the ring of water on the table. When he let go it slid across the table a bit and he grabbed it again without looking.

“Malfoy.”

“Hmm,” he murmured. His eyes finally lifted to mine and focused. “I was listening.”

“I wasn’t talking,” I said, frowning.

“Then what?” he asked.

“You’re acting really strange,” I said. He looked down at the table and trailed his fingers through the water on the wood.

“I’ve been feeling really strange,” he said. “Like a part of me has gone on vacation.”

“Since when?” I asked.

“This morning,” he murmured. “There’s something else.”

“What?”

“Not here.” He looked around. “Let’s just eat dinner and go home. I feel exposed here.”

After dinner we walked up the path towards the castle. It would be dark in an hour or so; winter was well on its way. Malfoy walked ten paces or so ahead of me, alone, ignoring the students around him. I let my gaze wander away from his back.

As the students dispersed into various areas of the castle, I followed Malfoy as he made his way down the second-floor corridor. He held the door to his quarters for me.

“Come inside and sit down,” he said distractedly. I obeyed, closing the door behind me. His small living room was decorated with somewhat uncomfortable black leather chairs, and I sat in one. He disappeared for a moment and came back, his eyes still somewhere else.

“What is it?” I asked, growing impatient--and more than a little concerned.

“Pardon?”

“You said there was something else.”

“Oh.” Malfoy rubbed his forehead for a moment. “I did, didn’t I.”

He was breathing a little harder than he should have been, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the medication he was on or some other, more serious cause.

“Malfoy, are you ill?”

“No.” He frowned deeply. “I don’t think so. There was something…it’s on the tip of my tongue.”

I had seen this before, in victims of poorly-done memory spells. But that could not be the cause now, could it? Malfoy had been in my sight ever since dinner.

“It’s so hot,” he complained, loosening his tie. He stood uneasily, like he expected some sort of attack. “I feel like I’m being suffocated.”

“Malfoy.” I stood; he looked at me and his eyes were suddenly wild.

“You stay back, you Muggle-loving son of a bitch.” His wand was in his hand and I found myself staring down it.

“Calm down, Malfoy,” I said, putting my hands out. He looked away from me and his eyes glazed again. He loosened his tie more and started unbuttoning his shirt. I decided it would be a bad idea to try and take the wand. Before I could get my hand back I would probably be dead.

“Weasley, what are you doing here?” he asked, blinking at me. He looked at the wand in his hand and held it out to me. “Is this yours?”

“Yes,” I said, taking it from his limp fingers. I tucked it into my robes beside my own.

“I don’t feel well at all.” He leaned against me.

“You’ll be alright, Malfoy,” I said, leading him to one of the armchairs. He sat willingly.

“I’m roasting,” he said, slipping out of his shirt. He dropped it on the floor and lay back in the chair, looking dazed.

Then I saw his arm.

“Malfoy, your Mark,” I said.

He swung his head down.

“Oh, yeah.”

Then he snapped to, and the strange look left his eyes.

“Weasley, do you know what this means?” he asked, looking up at me.

“Do you?”

He stood and glanced at the shirt on the floor. Frowning, he picked it up and dusted it off.

“Unfortunately, I think I do.” He put the shirt on and patted his pockets. “Where’s my wand?”

“You were threatening me with it,” I said, producing it from my robe.

He blinked.

“Maybe you should hang onto it.” He picked up his outer robe from the hook by the door and slipped it on.

“Where are you going?”

“To see Severus.”

I followed him down to the dungeons, worried. He knocked on the door to Snape’s quarters with no difficulty; most would feel the effects of the privacy ward on the doorframe and feel the urge to walk away. We stood outside for a moment, and Malfoy knocked again, more impatiently. Then he tried the knob.

“Give me my wand,” he said, putting out his hand.

“Maybe he’s just on rounds. We shouldn’t barge into his quarters.”

Malfoy leveled a gaze on me that was so cold it made my testicles retract into my body. I handed him his wand.

The first spell he tried didn’t work; Snape was adamant about his privacy. Malfoy did a more complicated unlocking spell, one I’d only ever heard Hermione use. The doorknob clicked and he pushed the door open.

“Come on,” he said.

“I don’t know about this.”

“Weasley, trust me.” He handed me back his wand.

I swallowed. Whether he realized it or not, he was asking something big. I nodded, and he stepped into the darkened apartment.

“Get the lights,” he said. I found the switch.

I had never been inside Snape’s quarters. They were surprisingly cheery and warm in appearance. I hesitated in the living room and only followed further when Malfoy gave me another sour look. He leaned into the walk-in closet, and I walked into the bathroom.

“Malfoy,” I called, pressing myself against the door. I had witnessed many more gruesome scenes, but it had been some years. My stomach gave a half-hearted turn.

“What is it?” he asked, coming to my shoulder.

“I found him.”

Malfoy looked past me.

“That’s unfortunate,” he said. “We should go get Minerva.”

I made the mistake of letting him walk behind me, and halfway to her office he jumped me. He bore me to the ground and grabbed my weak arm. Pain shot through my left side and I yelped. Malfoy wrestled his wand from me and pressed it to the back of my neck.

“Don’t move a goddamn muscle,” he hissed.

“Malfoy,” I croaked.

“I said don’t move,” he said, his fingers tensing on my arm.

“Drop the wand, Malfoy, and I won’t have to beat the shit out of you.”

I had never been happier to hear Dooley’s voice. Malfoy dropped his wand and slid off me. I stood, and he stayed on the floor. Dooley picked up the wand and handed it to me.

“Weasley, what’s going on?” Malfoy asked, looking for all the world like a frightened child. “How did I get here?”

“Don’t play that,” Dooley growled. “Stand up slowly.”

He did just that, keeping his hands in the air.

“I have to get back to the forest,” he said.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Malfoy’s eyes flicked over our heads and I had a sudden feeling of dread.

I barely rolled out of the way before the stone buttress collapsed on Dooley. Malfoy was gone when I looked up, and the wand was gone from my hand. Dooley groaned and I turned my attention to him.

“I’m okay,” he croaked, shoving debris off his legs. He took my hand and I pulled him up.

“Or not,” he cried. “Ow, ow, stop.”

I took some more weight onto myself.

“Where does it hurt?” I asked.

“My foot.”

“Lots of small bones there, might be broken. Let me get you to Pomfrey.”

“You need to go after Malfoy. I’ll be fine.”

“When your foot is the size of your head you won’t be fine. Come on. He’s not going anywhere.”

I didn’t know if that was true, but I had to hope. I all but carried Dooley down the corridor. Malfoy could not have meant to kill us, or we would be dead. I kept that thought to myself; I felt Dooley would not be comforted by it.

“So what the hell was happening there?” he asked, as I leaned him against a column. I knocked on the door to the infirmary.

“Something’s wrong with him. He’s freaking out.” I could hear Madame Pomfrey coming down from her office. “The Dark Marks are activated again, and Snape is dead.”

“Dead?” Dooley squeaked. He was so very young, I realized.

I got him into Pomfrey’s care and took off down the corridor towards Minerva’s office.

“Cat mint,” I panted. The stairway opened.

“What’s the matter, Ron?” she asked.

I told her, and she paled.

“And you let him go?”

“What else was I supposed to do? Dooley could have been much worse.”

“Where do you think he went?” she asked me, getting to her feet. She grabbed her wand and swept out of the office, and I followed.

“He said something about the forest, about getting back there.”

“Then we should go get Hagrid.” Minerva cast a spell on the statue by her office, and it started to glow. The glow spread along the stone rail and shot down the corridor. “This will find the other professors and bring them to us.”

We crossed the darkened lawn quickly and I kept my ears pricked. Malfoy could be anywhere in the dark, and fear crept up around the base of my spine and up into my chest.

Hagrid came to the door after only a moment.

“No time to explain. We need to go into the forest and find Professor Malfoy,” Minerva said breathlessly.

“Give me a minute,” he said, rummaging in a pile of papers. “Here.”

He handed her a folded-up sheet of parchment.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Open it.”

He grabbed a lantern and whistled to Rory. Minerva opened the paper; it was a map.

“Look. It’s not real accurate, but it’s a start.”

I looked down at the map and saw a small glowing spot. It had an M next to it.

“How long have you had this?” I asked him. Hagrid grinned briefly.

“Come on.”

We stepped out of the hut and I saw several of the other professors coming across the field.