My Nemesis, or: Best Enemies

Harry knew that Voldemort was up to something.

The last few months had been fantastic. The birds were chirping happily every morning, people were having picnics every other day and the Headmaster had found the time to create that music group he'd always wanted to.

"Music really is the greatest magic there ever has been," Albus had said just before he locked himself into a room in the castle with six other enthusiastic students. From the sounds(read: noises) Harry had been able to hear he couldn't quite agree. In ten years maybe. At the moment he'd rather just keep himself away from the so-called music; so would the other teachers and students. To tell the truth, that part of the castle had long since been deserted and Harry had heard the house-elves arguing about which one of them would have to go and clean up after the so-called musicians. It was the first time he'd heard the house-elves seriously complaining about their work.

The sky was clear and the sun was shining and it was nice and quiet.

And Voldemort was up to something.

Not that anyone but him seemed to care. Hermione was on a date with Ron down in Hogsmead and Luna and Neville were feeding the thestrals. Ginny was on a date with Michael, or was it Roger? She was on a date with someone at least. Luna had wished him luck and told him to avoid the wragglers, but the others seemed to ignore him.

Even Snape, who always seemed to be to be quite encouraging when it came to him leaving to fight Voldemort, didn't even remove his sun glasses as he lay there in his beach chair with a yellow piña colada when Harry worriedly asked him for advice(as a last resort). Frankly, sometimes he seemed to be the only one that cared that Voldemort, the dark-lord-who-just-wouldn't-die, was still out there and having fun. The word 'fun' might be a bit too much, but he was freer than the bird and no one was doing anything about it.

But no. If no one else was going to do anything, he, Harry James Potter, the boy-who-lived, Chosen One, Hero, Saviour and Golden Boy of Gryffindor would just have to do it himself.

After all, he was Voldemort's nemesis.

And Voldemort was most certainly up to something. He always was.

What else would an enemy do?

Harry wouldn't mention that he was, maybe, just a little bit bored.

Just a little.

-.-

Harry knocked on the door.

As he waited he put right his dark cloak and tried to look as threatening as possible. Not that it was much considering how Voldemort usually looked.

"Ah, Potter," Voldemort said somewhat stoically as he opened the door. "How unexpected." There was something about the tone of his voice…

"You're up to something!" Harry pulled his special 'foil Voldemort' cloak around him and glowered up at the red eyes.

"No, I'm not."

"You always say that right before you do something. Like when you kidnapped Luna and was going to give her to the wolves. You spent ten minutes trying to convince me that you weren't doing anything while the werewolves howled in your backyard," Harry snorted. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing at all," Voldemort responded as he closed the door slightly. Something crashed to the floor behind him.

"What was that?" Harry asked and stood on his toes to look over Voldemort's shoulder.

"Nothing. Just your imagination, I suppose. Or perhaps you're an idiot. I always knew you were one." There wasn't any vitriol in the remark. It was oddly bland, for Voldemort that is.

"I heard it! Something crashed to the floor," Harry told him before he suddenly got a horrifying realization. "You're not having… guests, are you?" He shuddered a bit as he said it.

"Guests? Have you ever known me to have guests over?"

"Not guests. I mean, guest guests," Harry said uncomfortably. "You know, for… I just assumed even you could get a bit, ah, how do I say this…?" He paused and then asked in a low voice: "Did I come at a bad time?"

"No," Voldemort replied with a smirk. "I'm not having sex nor was I going to, if that is what you're trying to ask?"

Harry blushed. He couldn't help it. He had to pull himself together now; he had a job to do. Harry took a deep breath and tried his best to just forget the previous subject entirely.

"Where was I?" he said after a moment.

"The imaginary crash."

"It was not!"

"Fine!" Voldemort answered, exasperated. "Something crashed to the floor. There is an easy explanation for that. I simply have a new snake and it hasn't gotten used to its new surroundings yet. It probably broke a glass."

"Oh? And why can't I hear it speaking?"

"It's mute."

"Right..." Harry said doubtfully. "You're lying."

Voldemort gracefully lifted an eyebrow in question. Harry had always been jealous of that; he always lifted both when he tried to replicate it.

"You never call a snake 'it' unless you don't know it. It's always she or he or the name. There's no snake inside of there!"

"There is."

"There isn't."

"There most certainly is," Voldemort said and opened the door. On the floor a large snake slithered.

"Oh," Harry muttered.

"Oh indeed."

"Hi, Harry."

"Hello there, girl. Did you break something?"

"Break something?"Her head lifted quickly off the floor in agitation at the question.

"Something crashed to the floor and I was wondering if you did it?"

"Me?" Nagini hissed. "Me? I'd never! No, that was-"

"Go, Nagini. Now."

Nagini moved her head to stare at Voldemort.

"Yes, master. Bye, Harry. Give me another rat when you next drop by. Yours are just so delicious..."

She slithered out of sight and Harry glared up at Voldemort.

"You lied," Harry announced and strode inside not bothering with any more niceties. They were enemies after all. Politeness was never overrated between them.

There was a table in the outmost room, and a few chairs. Along the walls there were six doors leading elsewhere and one small door that led into a cupboard that reminded Harry suspiciously of the one he'd grown up in.

On the table there was one crystal glass filled with golden liquid. On the floor there was another broken one, the liquid splattered on the rug.

"You have a guest!" Harry accused Voldemort.

"No," Voldemort started to tell Harry before he seemingly changed his mind, "fine. Yes, I do have a guest, though it is none of your business."

"I'm your enemy," Harry stated as if it was obvious. "I have everything to do with it. I need to know who you conspire with. It's my job to do that."

"About that-"

Crash!

"Bleh," a figure said as he stumbled out of the cupboard. "Cleaning supplies! You're a wizard, my lord, not a muggle!"

Harry stared at the blond, grey-eyed figure.

"You!" they both said at the same time.

Harry took out his wand and quickly petrified the other boy before turning back to Voldemort: "What's he doing here?"

"Ah, about that," Voldemort said while sneering down at Draco Malfoy. "I no longer have a need of you."

"What?" Harry turned away from the both defiant and fearful boy on the floor. "What are you talking about?"

"He is to be my new nemesis."

"You're kidding! That fearful lump of nothing? He's a coward!"

"Do you fear me?"

"No. Never!" Harry glared at Voldemort.

"Exactly. You once did and that was the best time we had. Unfortunately, now I need someone more refreshing than you. He hates me and he fears me. I happen to hate him as well. It all works out. You're no longer my nemesis, Harry."

"Don't you hate me anymore?" Harry asked all the while staring at Draco. He was sure there weren't any tears in his eyes. There weren't.

"I do," Voldemort said quickly. "I just hate him more. And he hates me too. I nearly fed his mother to Nagini. Oh, he was so mad," Voldemort said with an oddly mesmerized tone. "It changed things."

"He did something to you! Imperio-"

"You know just as well as I do that anything mind-altering largely fails to work at either of us. Simply said, as you don't seem to be taking this in, it's over."

"It's over? After everything, you're just ending it? You killed my parents! You terrorize the wizarding world with no remorse and you've killed lots of people," Harry yelled at Voldemort. "I can't just forget that just because you want the ferret-" Malfoy glared "- as your new nemesis! It doesn't work like that!"

"Life goes on, Harry. You were a good enemy for a while, but I'm afraid he outdid you. Things do change."

"You're leaving me for him? That prat? He's a blond, spoiled, idiotic, lying pureblood! Surely that means something?"

"He's not you, of course-"

"There you see. He's not me!"

"-but sometimes dark lords need new enemies to oppose them."

"They don't. Never. Never ever, ever!" Harry felt like stomping on the ground with his left foot. He barely restrained himself.

"Don't be so childish, Harry. Just accept it. The old routine was getting boring," Voldemort said coldly. "It's over."

"But he's a pureblood! You chose me because I was a half-blood like you, and he doesn't even know you!"

"Aren't you always telling me that blood doesn't matter? I'm just trying to do what the Light side is always telling me to. And we'll get to know each other, with time. I already know that he hates being called a ferret. How hard can it be?"

"But, but...," Harry sputtered, not knowing just what to say. "He still..."

"Just accept it, Harry. Sometimes things must change. Use the opportunity to do something new. Date a boy, perhaps. Girls don't seem to work out for you, in my opinion."

"What are you on about?" Harry asked perplexed.

"How about that Neville Longbottom?"

"What? He's with Luna, not that it matters."

"Then there is that Weasley boy, he-"

"I'm straight. Completely straight," Harry stated in a low voice.

"Well, maybe you could murder someone or perhaps create a new basilisk. Merlin knows, the snakes would like that. Sometimes Nagini cannot talk about anything else..."

"What about the prophecy?" Harry interrupted. "I'm the only one who can kill you! Draco can't do that, no one but me can."

"Dumbledore might be right, you know? Prophecies are perhaps not as accurate as we could wish. Who knows if it's actually correct. Maybe my actions just set the prophecy up to seem like it was real. And Draco Malfoy doesn't need to kill me, just foil me. His mind is ingenious and he's creative. And he's desperate. Poison today, knives tomorrow. If nothing else, it's new."

"Oh...," Harry whispered.

"Leave, Harry. I have plans to finish and much to do." Voldemort looked thoughtful for a second. "This has nothing to do with you. You're no longer my foremost enemy. It's over."

Harry was pushed out of the door and a second later he was staring at the closed door. Over. It's over. It resounded in his mind, a mind who couldn't quite grasp the reality of it yet. Over... It sounded so final.

Harry wandered down the steps, his chest oddly hurting. He couldn't be heartbroken. He didn't love Voldemort, he hated him! He had thought that Voldemort hated him back. There was just no way Voldemort could hate Draco more than him.

And then the truth hit him.

He'd been replaced.

Ouch.

That hurt.

-.-

Harry relaxed back in his beach chair and took the offered drink from Snape, who kept giving him new ones every five minutes. Harry suspected that his teacher was trying to get him drunk. Snape didn't know that Harry knew Dean's sobriety charm. It worked wonders. And Snape was being less Snape in a way. Not as snarky or cruel as he usually was. In this warm weather it was impossible to feel anything but indifference for the man-who-kept-himself-on-the-fence-and-refused-to-fall. Grudges just seemed to mean so little these days.

Harry would know.

He'd been replaced, Harry mused. It hurt, but he knew that Draco couldn't live up to his legacy. One day Voldemort would discover that he hated Harry again and then they'd be back to the whole 'good old enemies' deal again. This was just a break.

It wasn't that bad sitting in the sun with a drink.

Oh, it was boring, but not bad. Just boring.

Sitting in a beach chair, ignoring his friends who chose to leave him for love and avoiding Dumbledore and his musicians at all costs.

It wasn't that bad.

Harry sat up and took a quill and a scroll from beneath his chair and wrote a short, inquiring note to Voldemort. It was his tenth or so. He'd yet to receive a reply. Harry made the finishing touches quickly, before Snape could get another drink to bother him with, and whistled for Hedwig.

Before tying the letter in place he added a final 'ps. I hate you' in hopes of finally convincing Voldemort of his folly. Ah, well, Malfoy couldn't possibly keep it up for long. He might as well enjoy the break.

Harry leant back in his beach chair to receive yet another drink from Snape. The man seemed to have a talent for mixing drinks, he admitted to himself as he drank the cocktail leisurely.

No, it wasn't so bad.