The Enemy Of My Enemy

The Enemy Of My Enemy

A darkly cloaked figure appeared soundlessly in a bitterly cold churchyard. He immediately scanned the wide area for any signs of danger, moving his dark head slowly left and then right, even casting his brilliant green eyes skyward, as had become his habit in recent years. It seemed that Mad-Eye's continuous drill of "constant vigilance," had worked its way into his head after all. He allowed himself a soft smirk.

After the fall of Voldemort, the danger had been neutralized relatively quickly, but the Death Eaters had not all given up without a fight. They had given the Ministry, and its Aurors, a good fight for more than year after the final battle. It was a battle Harry would give anything to forget. Even now, well after the conflict had ended, there was an occasional outbreak of dark activity that needed to be quelled by the always-vigilant Aurors.

He slowly lowered the wand he'd held ready, and looked around once more.

There was a light coating of new, undisturbed snow on the frozen ground. The sky above him was clear now, pricked with dozens of tiny stars, and a nearly full moon casting a bluish tint to his surroundings, making the snow almost silver in color. The light, musky scent of wood smoke danced on the wind, wafted no doubt, from fire grates in nearby houses. Tall, black silhouettes of naked trees stood in a nearby cluster, wearing a shimmering coat of ice, and dreaming of spring's promise, still many months away. Everything was quiet and still, save for a breath of wind that tried to sneak it's icy fingers into his cloak and teased the locks of his ebony hair.

The headstones in the adjacent graveyard seemed to protrude from the ground like so many teeth in a monstrous mouth, waiting patiently to devour anyone foolish enough to disturb the ground it covered. Harry shivered slightly beneath his robes and pulled up his hood with shivering fingers, fastening the top clasp of his cloak and quickly tugging on the soft leather gloves taken from his pocket. Looking up he could see his breath on the air, obscuring his vision slightly; it definitely hadn't been this cold in London. After a moment of restless silence He resolved to wait for his companions in the sheltering shadow of the small church before making his way to the solitary grave he had come to see.

The churchyard was empty, and glittered in the moonlight under its new coating of snow. It was eerily beautiful, but unbearably frigid. Luckily he didn't have to wait long. With a loud cracking sound, much like the breaking of an ice-laden branch, another figure appeared a few feet away from the doors of the church, wand raised. Harry automatically raised his own wand at the sound and faced the newcomer. For a moment the two heavily cloaked men held their wands aloft, then quickly lowered them upon recognition and then stepped forward to embrace like the old friends that they were.

"Neville."

Harry smiled in greeting, warmly taking in the sight of his friend's broad shoulders and tall form. Gone was the chubby little boy from their school days, in his place stood a grown man, toned and strong, a respected authority in the field of Herbology.

"Harry."

Neville smiled back, rubbing his bare hands together for warmth, looking over his old friend calmly in the dim moonlight. He didn't mention the long, thin gash on Harry's cheekbone, or the red, rash-like marks dusting the side of his face. Injuries were to be expected in Harry's line of work.

"Brilliant catch against Puddlemere's Seeker yesterday. I managed to Apparate there just in time to see the end," Neville congratulated him. "It's bloody freezing. Been waiting long?"

"Thanks, and no," he replied, "just got here a minute ago. Thought I'd wait for everyone to arrive so we could all go in together."

Neville nodded, and let his eyes wander over the graveyard, then away again. He stepped up next to Harry, for the little bit of extra protection the wall of the old church offered them.

"How's Ginny?"

"Furious that I didn't want her to come," Harry answered matter of factly. "I expect she'll fume about it for a bit longer at home, then come anyway, as usual."

Neville grinned. He remembered Ginny's temper quite vividly - particularly that wonderful Bat-Bogey Hex she liked so well- from their school days, and didn't envy anyone who made her mad. Harry though, had always been able to soothe her; one of the many small things that made them so well matched.

"Still a hellcat when angry, then?" Neville joked.

Harry snorted, "You have no idea.... How's Hannah? Ivy?"

"They're both well. Ivy's becoming a right handful since she took to walking, and now we can't take our eyes off her for a second, or she's into trouble," Neville said fondly of his young daughter. "You'll find out about that soon enough."

"We're still arguing about names as it is," Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes. "I don't even want to think about what's going to happen a year after he's born."

Suddenly a pair of loud popping noises heralded another arrival, and the two friends raised their wands once more in response. The light of the moon revealed a tall man with vivid red hair, and his brown haired, slightly shorter, companion. Ron Weasley and his wife, Hermione, lowered their wands when they spotted their friends standing just outside the church, and stepped forward to meet them. Hermione had barely kissed Neville's cheek before quite a few more sharp cracks and pops filled the once still air, and several people arrived all at once.

Old friends and schoolmates appeared out of thin air; Fred Weasley, smiling broadly, Luna Lovegood who looked dreamy as always, Colin Creevey, Seamus Finnegan. In the space of ten minutes, there were many more arrivals and the sounds of swishing cloaks and whispered greetings echoed through the trees.

Ginny Potter arrived, as predicted, her swollen belly evident even under a heavy maroon cloak, looking smug and defiant. Harry merely shook his head in amusement and gathered her close, kissing the top of her head affectionately.

At last, with barely a sound, Severus Snape arrived quite close to the heavy iron gate of the graveyard, and silence instantly fell among them. Their old Potions Professor looked at them each in turn, then nodded sharply, and with a wave of his wand, opened the gate and walked through.

The group of wizards and witches followed the older man silently through the maze of headstones; some with their wand tips lit to guide the way. Snape halted abruptly before one unimposing gravestone in the far left corner of the graveyard, below a sleeping oak tree. They all shuffled forward, and stood expectantly behind him. Severus lifted his wand once more, and conjured a small wooden table, and at least thirty golden goblets, filled with fine wine. The goblets were passed quickly among them, until at last everyone held one, and then silence and stillness fell over them again. Harry, with a small cough, stepped forward from the crowd and took a deep breath.

"Thank you all for coming. This gathering has grown over the years, even though we never make a formal announcement. As you all know, today is the fifth anniversary of the extraordinary event that turned the tide of the war in our favor. The man we come to pay tribute to was an unlooked for ally, a hero who gave his life for something none of us ever dreamed he believed in. He gave up everything he knew and valued to betray our enemies to us. But he was taken from our midst and murdered by his own father, before we had a chance to thank or honor him. For that, I would like to do so now." Harry turned and faced the simple gravestone, raised his goblet high into the air, and said clearly, "To Draco Malfoy."

The rest of the somber gathering raised their glittering goblets, and repeated in one voice, the name of the man who had helped to save them all. In respectful silence they drank to him, and after a long moment of silent contemplation, the goblets were placed gently back on the table, which disappeared without a sound.

"I hope.... I will see you all here next year."

Harry's words were an effective dismissal, and he watched as different members of the group whispered their good-byes and Disapperated in twos and threes. Back to their families, back to their homes, back to their lives.

He asked Ron and Hermione, who were staying with he and Ginny for the next few days, to see his wife safely home. They nodded silently, and he kissed his wife lightly, then bid his old friends good night. Finally he watched the last one go, and at last, he was left alone once more. Except.... for one.

Harry walked slowly back to the gravesite, the brittle winter grass and newly fallen snow crunching softly under his booted feet. He came to a halt beside the man he had once hated, once thought of as an enemy, in comfortable companionship, clouded eyes staring unseeing at Draco's headstone.

"I still find it hard to believe. I just.... I just don't understand why he did it."

"No. I don't suppose you do." The older man said, not unkindly, "You always knew what kind of person you were, Potter, and whom you wanted to be. There was never any doubt or conflict for you as to what side you supported," Severus's voice was deep and calm, his cloak swishing gently in the breeze.

"I never thought there was for him, either. He always told me I'd chosen the wrong side.... I always believed he was rotten to the core, as unredeemable as his miserable father. But, it seems.... I was wrong." Harry said, finally looking over at his old potions master and saying frankly, " But you knew, didn't you?"

"I suspected." Severus admitted softly, not looking away from the stark white marble of the head stone. "Hadn't I.... been in his place once?"

"You knew," Harry repeated, "and you encouraged him to make his choice."

"And he made it." Severus said gently, gesturing wearily to the grave they faced, his eyes shinning brightly in the moonlight. Grim faced, Harry nodded slowly.

Suddenly Dumbledore's face swam to the front of his mind, and a speech that he had made at the end of his fourth year replayed itself in his head, 'Remember Cedric Diggory. Remember if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort......" That day, even now, still haunted Harry. He never would have guessed then, that the boy whom he had always hated, whom he had despised during all his years at Hogwarts, had made the greatest sacrifice of all. Harry knew he would never forget Draco Malfoy, and everything he had done for them.

Side by side the two somber men stood and paid their silent respects to the dead, eyes far off and lost in thought. Finally, the older man turned and offered his hand to the younger. They shook hands firmly, bowing slightly to each other in mutual respect, and then Severus Snape walked noiselessly into the shadows and disappeared.

Harry stood for a moment longer, a tear he hadn't known himself capable of escaping from beneath the rim of his glasses as he read the simple inscription carved forever in stone, and then he too, turned away and faded into the darkness without a trace.