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Enough by Strawberry Shortcake
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Enough

Strawberry Shortcake

Where do we get off calling one a sinner and another a saint? That's what they call me, the light side's saint. The fiery angel here to help Harry Potter rescue them all. What if I don't want to be a hero? What if I'm not good enough?

I was never anything enough before my parents died. Never old enough, smart enough, fast enough, pretty enough. Is that what makes you eligible? Being an orphan? Is that what our world requires of children now? To lose their innocence before being enough?

Ron says that I've become cynical in the past month. I beg to differ. Saying the truth isn't cynicism. It is honesty, a rare gem that is frequently overlooked.

I've only been here for one month and five days. It feels like so much longer. My internal clock calls each day a month and each week a year. I guess that makes me all grown-up…. right?

Everyone in the orphan tower is overly mature. Little Sara shouldn't know where to hide in case of an attack just as much as Lorena Edgecombe shouldn't know so many curses. The point is we do, and none of us are children anymore. We lost that title by entering this graveyard for adolescence. I don't remember the last time I saw Fred smile, or heard Terry Boot laugh. Like I said this tower is a graveyard where we are slowly biding our time.

Maybe I have become cynical, but cynicism is always better than idealism. Idealism and hope ride in the same boat, one for fools. I may be many things, but a fool isn't one of them. I thought Ron was a fool for accepting him so quickly. He was probably going to kill us all in our sleep. How could Ron so quickly forget the years of hell he caused us at school? Ron would only tell me that it was his self-inflicted duty to accept everyone in. Duty, a weird motivation that sounds ever so noble.

Should I be ashamed of what I've become? I often ask myself what my mother would think of me now. I never answer myself honestly. Deep within my mind, I know the truth, but I can ignore it. I know she would want me to be the one to comfort everyone and tell them it was okay to cry. Instead, I twist things around to get the reaction I want.

I used to wish she were still here.

I don't wish anymore. Wishing like praying is a waste of valuable time. Things happen as they do and no `higher being' can ever change it. You change your own destiny.

I often wonder where my life will lead me, how it would be different with each choice I make. I should have paid more attention in divination, then it just seemed unimportant. I wonder if I knew when the attack was going to be, could I have stopped it? Could I have changed the outcome? It makes me wonder about what could have been. What still can be.

Yes, I still wonder.

I found myself wondering one night, alone in the common room, why he came to the orphan tower. His father was a death eater, and if they were victims of the light side, the ministry surely wouldn't have sent him here. Little did I know my question would soon be answered.

The fire crackled merrily in the common room, but I was still cold. I'm always cold. Looking down at the Quidditch book I held in my hands, I flipped the page. It was well past midnight, yet I still couldn't fall asleep. Ron would have a heart attack if he found out how often I actually sleep. Letting out a little snicker, I turned the page again.

"What's so funny Weasley?" I looked up to see him standing in front of the fire, his silk jimjams casting an eerie glow about the room.

"Nothing," I curtly replied looking back at my book. I didn't want to share anything with him.

"You know you could at least pretend to like me. Your brother does," He sat down in the armchair closest to me and propped his feet on the coffee table. Matching green slippers, typical Slytherin.

"I don't play pretend like my brother," I flipped another page in the book. Why was he still talking to me? This conversation should have been over before it started.

"I'm not asking you to play. I'm asking you to give me a chance. You gave everyone else one," His grey eyes were imploring, searching, asking for forgiveness. How come I didn't believe him?

"Why?" My eyes narrowed in suspicion. If I was being taken for a fool there would be hell to pay.

"Because I'm a person too," I could give him a chance. A chance with high monitored security in Azkaban, preferably in the lunatic ward.

"Fine, tell me about yourself," I was again doing the twisting thing. I hardly realize when I do it. It's beginning to come as a natural reflex. I wasn't sure if I liked it, or not.

" I was born on the seventeenth of December. I belong in Slytherin house, and I am currently Head Boy. I can play the piano, ballroom dance, and paint. I like to fly, wrestle, and swim. I'm good at potions. I don't have a best friend, only allies. Tell me about yourself," I found myself becoming interested in what he had to say. I tried to hate him, but I couldn't. He wasn't using the condescending tone I thought was permanent. He talked to me like an equal. What the hell was going on?

"I was born on June 5," I found myself saying, "and am in Gryffindor house. I am a prefect, but that bathroom gives me the creep. Hello! Moaning Myrtle can pop in at any time! I can run fast, garden, and cook. I like to fly, read, and dance. I'm good at Care of Magical Creatures, like my brother Charlie. My best friend is Colin Creevy," My mind screamed at me to stop. He did not need to know these things. I should have made up fake answers.

We both lapsed into silence.

"Why are you here?" I blurted out. I hadn't meant to say it, but it had come out anyway. I guess my mind was doing too many things at once to stop the stupid question.

Letting out a sigh, he started. "Lucius wanted me to join the Dark Side, I said I wanted time to finish my studies, my parents were killed for insolence. I would have been killed too, if my mother hadn't taken my blow. She took that exact moment to get courage," He let out a little growl before smoothing his hair back.

"You were actually planning to join?" I felt my mouth drop as a fumbled for my wand.

"Weasley, don't bother. I'm not going to, after what they did to my father. I'm going to get revenge," A fire shone in his eyes, one separate from the one in the common room. One that is bottled up inside waiting to explode.

"Why are you telling me all this?" I felt myself ask as his eyes turned back to normal. It was odd to say the least.

"Because, you're not like them," He used a flip of his had to gesture at the dorm rooms. "You want it too. You want to curse a death eater until they bleed to death, and I need an accomplice," I searched his face for some clue that it was a joke. Others joked about getting revenge, but were never serious. They made gag plans like charming all death eater robe pink, this didn't seem like one of those plans. He seemed really serious.

"This is a one time offer," Again, he pushed his loose locks away from his eyes.

"When would we get them?" I didn't want to join him if this was just an act of passion. Things like this needed careful planning and precise measures.

Wait, when did I decide to join him at all?

My mind was fumbling to come to an even ground as all these thoughts span round.

"After their victory in the giant hills, they will be at their weakest. I know what I'm doing. I've thought long and hard about this, and nothing is going to screw it up. Now if you want to join me that's up to you, but if you don't I'll have to cast a memory charm on you, I don't want the wrong people to find out. You have a few minuets to decide."

We sat in silence, the only sounds were the fire crackling and the clock ticking. My mind was screaming different things all at once, but I knew what I had to do.

"I'm in," Leaning over I shook his hand sealing the bond.

That night was the start of the Giant Revenge. We hadn't become friends, we were still less, but suddenly more. We had an odd relationship of convince.

At midnight, we became accomplices all other times acquaintances. During the day, we didn't think that under a brick in the fireplace lay plans so sinister; so evil they might actually work. That was strictly nighttime business.

He said that years from now we would be known as the people that saved the light side's ass. Our only problem was we needed an army. Not any army, an army so focused on our goal they wouldn't stray. First though, we needed a plan, and substantial proof it would work. Not every one would join from blind faith.

He would kill me if he found out I was writing all this down. Even if I'm not going into specifics it could ruin the whole plan. The key element is surprise, and not that fake stuff in muggle movies. No, no one, not even our allies are going to expect this.

That's why he is a genius. Not a conventional one like Hermione, more of a strategist like Ron mixed with a defense artist like Harry. He would despise that comparison.

His name is Draco Malfoy, and this is his plan.