|The Enemy of My Enemy
Author: A Lush Noble Rose Cockles PM
Harry and Draco could never be friends, but in their 5th year, everything changes. When Voldemort puts their lives in danger, they realize that there's something more than schoolboy rivalry between them and the only way to survive is to embrace it. DMHPRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Angst - Harry P. & Draco M. - Chapters: 23 - Words: 27,630 - Reviews: 110 - Favs: 96 - Follows: 163 - Updated: 06-08-11 - Published: 12-06-10 - id: 6535626
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
FULL SUMMARY: Harry and Draco were never meant to be friends, but in their 5th year, everything changes. When Voldemort puts their lives in danger, their fates are intertwined in a way they can't ignore. Harry and Draco come to realize that they have more in common than they ever realized. The only question is: Will the passion burning between them be enough to overthrow the forces trying to pull them apart? DMHP
Chapter One [Prologue]
The remains of a fire crackled in the hearth of the parlor—painting it in a heavy gold light. A blonde woman sat amidst the burgundy cushions of a loveseat, her thin frame clothed in black velvet. For all the wealth that her acquired name had earned her, Narcissa Malfoy couldn't even feel at ease sitting by the fireside.
"What is it you've called me here for, Mother?" asked a young man from the doorway. His sharp-featured face was pale; his hair moonlight blonde. He and Narcissa wore the same looks of contempt—tightening their fine features into perpetual expressions of distaste.
"Come sit, Draco," the woman said, patting the cushion next to her. "I want to speak to you about something."
Draco hesitated in the doorway, before striding into the room and positioning himself into the seat of an armchair across from his mother, rather than next to her, causing one side of his face to be cast in the light of the fireside, while the other remained in darkness.
"What do you want to talk about?" he asked. As contemptuous as his expression was, his voice held no malice in it.
Narcissa nodded, staring toward the fire. "You must know why your father has been out of the house so often lately."
Draco's expression turned from one of distaste to one of anxiety. "I do," he said.
"Then you also must know that, with His rise, we will be facing a great danger." Narcissa let her eyes flicker in the firelight as she watched him.
Draco looked away from her. Narcissa's glance conveyed more than just a warning. In her narrow features—her silver-blue eyes—sadness called out to him, as if there was some terrible danger that awaited him that only she could foresee.
"What danger?" Draco said, his nose crinkling with disdain. Narcissa saw through his contemptuous façade easily enough. She saw the same expression often enough on the face of her husband. It was their only defense against the fear that reigned over their house.
Narcissa sighed. "Oh Draco, you are too young to know how it was." She lowered her voice, a tone of nostalgia creeping in. "When He was killed—or when we thought he was, oh, we were so naïve—we were so relieved; so happy! For so long, we had been unable to move out from under the darkness we had found ourselves caught up in." Her eyes went dark, staring off into the flames for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice was pleading.
"You know I love your father," she said. "You know how much I love you, Draco. Don't you?"
Draco's face turned red around his ears. "Mother…"
"I care about you so much," Narcissa said. "Don't ever forget that."
"I won't," said Draco, surprising himself. "But why are you telling me all of this?"
Narcissa's eyes glowed in the firelight. "Promise me you'll do one thing I ask of you, Draco," she said. "Then I will tell you."
"What do you want me to do?" Draco asked.
"Just promise me, Draco."
Draco gave his mother a hard look, not wanting to promise anything without knowing her conditions, but simultaneously needing to know the information she was keeping from him. "Alright," he said. "I promise I'll do whatever it is that you want me to do. Now will you explain to me what's going on?"
Narcissa nodded, her expression somber. "I don't want this life for you," she said. "I don't want you to be a slave—a pawn to the Dark Lord's game. I want you to be what your father has been pretending to be for the past fourteen years: A respectable, noble… dignified wizard. I want you to grow up to be a leader of the magical community. I—" Her voice broke then, and her eyes glassed over with tears. "I just want you to have the chance to grow up," she said. "To live to become an adult, fall in love, maybe even have children—"
"Mother!" Draco scowled, the crinkle back in his nose.
"This is important, Draco," Narcissa said. "The Dark Lord's games are not for children. I don't want you becoming a Death Eater like your father. That is something I will not allow."
Draco's eyes flashed. "Is that what you made me promise about?" he asked.
Narcissa laughed. "Of course not," she said. "I hoped you would avoid that position by your own choice. There is no glory in becoming a pawn to a losing game." She shook her head, losing her gaze once again to the flames. "No," she said. "When I had you promise you would do something I asked, I had something completely different in mind."
"What then?" Draco asked.
"I want you to befriend someone on the other side. Someone whose friendship will undoubtedly help you avoid the path down which your father and I have mistakenly pulled you."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "Who is it?" he asked.
"A classmate of yours." Narcissa turned her head a fraction of an inch, steadying herself for Draco's imminent disapproval. Then she spoke the name.
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