Especially Our Enemies

I made my rounds sleepily, my eyelids drooping. I hoped there weren’t any kids stupid enough to be wandering around after lights-out; I only had a few minutes before I could head upstairs and crash. I tripped over Filch’s new cat and dropped my wand; it went out, and I found myself in near total darkness. I cursed and fumbled for it. Not finding it, I decided to seek out one of the torches in the main corridor and come back.

When I stood, I reached ahead and encountered solid flesh.

“Still clumsy, Weasley,” Malfoy murmured. His fingers closed over my wrist; his skin was cool and dry. He pressed my wand back into my hand. I expected him to let me go, but he didn’t.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You can’t see me at all, can you,” he said softly. His other hand touched my forehead. I shook my head, a little angry.

“You’re making a fool of me,” I muttered.

“I don’t need to do that,” he said. His implication was unkind; his tone was not. I must have looked very confused. He chuckled. I tried to figure out where his eyes were, but in the inky blackness of the corridor I couldn’t even see my own nose, although I refrained from crossing my eyes to check.

“You make more noise than half an army, coming down the halls,” he said, holding my chin firmly, turning my face to first one side and then the other. Inspecting me, I was sure.

For a moment a thrill of fear ran through me. He could kill me here in the darkened hallway, and there would be no one around to help me. I was sure the other professors had already gone to their beds. Perhaps taking a job at Hogwarts was merely a pretense for revenge. I had fought and killed a few of his close allies, after all. I’d testified against his father. His hand moved up my arm, feeling the ridged scar where the ulna broke through the skin. The fingers on my chin slid down a little, and I swallowed hard. All he had to do was squeeze. His thumb rested on my pulse, which was thudding harder than I had realized.

“Tell me what you are thinking,” he said. I swallowed again.

“And all those years I thought you might be a mind reader,” I joked half-heartedly. His fingers tightened slightly around my throat, warning.

“Tell me.”

“I am afraid,” I whispered, ashamed. I closed my eyes; the darkness remained the same.

Malfoy’s hand moved to the back of my neck, pulling me down to him. He kissed me forcefully, and for a moment all I could do was let him do it. Before I could react, he let me go. His hands slid off my body and he was gone.

“Malfoy?” I asked, feeling ahead of me. I could have sworn I heard a chuckle in the darkness. When I lit my wand, the hall was empty.

I got back to my room and lay awake for hours.

The next morning I all but crawled out of bed, almost two hours before the alarm went off. I downed one of the little glass vials before thinking better of it and drinking a second. I could barely stand in the shower. Some days were just like this. The hot water made things a lot better, and I was feeling halfway human when I got out.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Jesus!” I shouted, crashing into the bathroom door. Malfoy was sitting in the little parlor portion of my quarters, flipping idly through one of the books I kept on the coffee table. That particular one was about the great cats. He looked up at me, his eyes sliding over my body effortlessly before returning to the book.

“What the fuck are you doing in my rooms?” I asked, grabbing my towel from the floor and wrapping it around my waist. He flipped the page to a large color photograph of a leopard drinking from a stream.

“Reading,” he said, not looking up.

“Get out,” I ordered, pointing to the door. He finally looked up again, his lips quirking slightly.

“Or?”

“Or nothing. Get out.”

He unfolded himself from the chair, setting the book back on the coffee table. I felt very small, although I towered over him, and I took a step away. My back encountered the doorframe. He was wearing a long black robe with a high collar, and as he turned towards me I realized he was shirtless underneath. His pale skin glowed against the black fabric.

“Idle threats, Weasley,” he said. He took a step towards me. I noticed he was barefoot. His feet made more noise against the hardwood flooring than I had heard him make since his arrival.

“What are you playing at, Malfoy?” I demanded, trying to put a growl into my voice. I drew myself up to my full height, all hundred and ninety centimeters of it, and thrust my shoulders back. It hurt a little, but I held it.

“I think you know,” he said. He put his foot between mine, shifting his weight back onto the other. It was a very careful stance; in the nearly eleven years since the war ended, I had not forgotten everything I learned in combat training. Malfoy was smaller, but he was tightly muscled, and from that position he could take control very quickly in a fight. I wasn’t sure if he had done it intentionally or not.

“You of all people should know I’m completely obtuse,” I said, trying my best to keep breathing normally. He smiled.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, putting his hand flat on my chest. I had nowhere to go, with the doorframe behind me and a cabinet blocking me from the side. “You really are confused, aren’t you?”

“Like fuck,” I said. He leaned forward, his breath whispering against my chin.

“I thought you were smarter than that,” he said. He brushed his lips against my neck. I held my breath for a moment, and he turned towards the door.

“See you at breakfast,” he said, smirking. It was an expression that made me want to punch him in the mouth. He closed the door behind him and I fell away from the door, breathing out in a great rush. I hoped desperately that he hadn’t noticed I was starting to get aroused. I couldn’t even explain that to myself. Cursing softly, I went to the closet to pick out some clothes for the day.

I ignored him, pointedly I hope, all throughout breakfast. But when we went out into the corridor, I confronted him. I could hold it in no longer. A group of Slytherin students paused to watch us, murmuring amongst themselves. I think they were hoping for a fight. If I had my way, they might get one.

“Who do you think you are?” I demanded. He drew himself up, nostrils flaring, eyes burning coldly.

“Don’t test my patience, Weasley,” he said. As if I were the one testing him.

I threw the first punch, which he absorbed easily. The solid muscle of his stomach resisted my hand. He gave me a sharp uppercut to the chin, and I stumbled. I kicked his feet out from under him, a benefit of long legs, and he fell to the floor. When he came back up at me, he hissed. He was lightning fast, launching himself at me with a tumbler’s grace. Time and wounds had slowed me down, and we fell to the floor. He knelt on my chest.

“This is such fun,” he said elatedly, eyes wild, grinning like a fool. His lip was bloodied.

“Enough of this nonsense,” Minerva said. We looked at her. She had her wand out, arms crossed over her chest. I felt suddenly twelve years old again, humbled by her stern tone. And I hurt. When I climbed to my feet I couldn’t hold back the groan. Minerva pursed her lips.

It seemed only moments before we stood in her office. I shuffled my feet; Malfoy was staring at her defiantly. It was a strangely familiar scene.

“You are thirty-five years old,” she said, peering over her glasses at us. “It’s well past time to put away your childish rivalry.”

“Malfoy has been goading me since he got here,” I protested. “I’ve done nothing but try to bury the hatchet. He’s insane.” The first was not strictly true. I worried that the second might be.

“That’s ridiculous,” Malfoy said. “I’m the one who’s tried to make peace.”

“By accosting me in a dark corridor? Breaking into my room?”

“The door wasn’t locked,” he said, smirking.

“I’m so tired of this,” Minerva said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Work it out. Have a fistfight or a duel or something. But not in front of the students. If I have to say anything to you two again, there will be serious consequences.” She looked down at her desk and Malfoy turned and swept out of the room.

“Minerva…”

“I know, Ron. But I can’t resolve this for you.” She sighed. “You’re a grown man. Don’t let him play with you.”

I held my angry, shameful silence.

“That’s exactly what he’s doing, dear boy, and what he’s always done.” I left her sitting at her desk, shaking her head.

After dinner, I found him on his way out of the great hall. I dragged him into a side corridor and shoved him up against a wall, where no one could see.

“I’m tired of these games, Malfoy,” I snarled, lifting him by the collar. Just because my left arm was almost useless didn’t mean I was weak, and I had surprised him. Even with his strangely enhanced perceptions, it would be difficult to sense an attack in a crowded hall full of chattering kids.

“You know you’re playing right into my hands,” he said.

“Fuck you,” I spat, pressing him harder. He quirked his eyebrows and then we were tumbling to the floor; he had turned the knob of a door I hadn’t noticed, and pulled me through. It was the Room of Requirement. I rolled with him for a moment, pushing away and getting to my feet painfully.

“What do you want from me?” I demanded.

“I’m insane, Weasley, as you said. Even I don’t know what I want.”

I seized him by the throat; it was so thin I could almost wrap my fingers all the way round. His hair was mussed and his chest heaving, but he did not look frightened. He looked me straight in the eye.

“When I look at you all I can think of is your victims.”

“Including yourself,” he said, eyes flicking over my face.

“I can imagine the delicious sensation of wringing the life from you,” I murmur, “My thumbs digging into your throat. Meeting resistance at first but then crunching through. Blood would trickle from your nose and you would struggle against me. My weight and strength are enough to keep you pinned. You would convulse and give it up. Justice would be done.” What was I saying? I felt like I had been hypnotized.

“But then what would you be?” he asked.

For once, the penetrating gray stare worked in reverse, and I felt I could see inside to his most vulnerable places.

“A murderer, just like you,” I said softly, releasing him. I slid my hands from around his neck. As suddenly as the window had opened, his gaze was hooded again. “That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

“I told you,” he said, adjusting his collar. “I’ve paid my debts.”

“Right.” I reached up and put my hand on the back of his head, holding him firmly. He looked at me with much the same defiant air he’d had in Minerva’s office. “You poor, fucked up creature,” I said.

“And your life has been perfectly normal and sane, I’m sure,” he sneered.

“Of course not.”

Malfoy had always had trouble controlling his temper; it was the one thing we had in common in school. But he had been so calm and restrained when he arrived at Hogwarts. I wondered if even the fisticuffs in the corridor were planned, and if this now was also part of his scheme. We stared at each other for a long, tense moment, and then I saw how much he had been holding back.

He clawed at my back like a wild animal, and I worried that he might tear my jaw off. I pushed him back.

“You’re crazy,” I said.

“So what?” He rubbed against me and I could feel that he was already hard. “You can’t tell me you don’t want me, Weasley. The Room of Requirement never lies.”

He was right, I knew. We never would have found it if we didn’t both want the same thing, secretly. I let him go. His mouth was hot against my neck, and I shuddered.

“This isn’t a good idea,” I said. Nonetheless, I hooked my hands in his hair and did not pull him away. He unbuttoned my shirt eagerly.

“Stop thinking, Weasley,” he breathed, rubbing his cheek against my chest. “It’s not your strong suit.”

He maneuvered me back to the sofa nearby, pulling me down beside him.

“You’re so goddamned tall,” he muttered. I let him push me onto my back.

“Why do I feel like you’re just using me?” I asked, as he all but ripped my trousers off.

“Because I am,” he said, throwing them to the floor. He pushed me up against the arm of the sofa, rubbing his face against the inside of my thigh.

“Um, don’t I get any say in this?” I asked.

“Not at all,” he mumbled.