AN: So sorry for not posting this sooner, school is getting crazier! I've also been in a bet to read an 800-page book… I won, but that's not the point. Anyway, I hope you can forgive me and here is the next chapter of Hidden Fire.

P.S. After the completion of this fan fiction, I and a few of my friends will film a video to the finale on our acting channel. Can't wait! And yes, I will be playing Morgan.

One step at a time. I take careful, precise care to step only on the toe of my elegant leg-hugging boots, as the heels will irrevocably raise mayhem. I cringe painfully as a thin, pitiable creak emerges from the staircase below me. Almost there, Morgana.

After what seems like a thousand years of sliding palms against harsh stone and balancing precariously on thins trips of well-secured wood, I make it to the top. I can see the landing of the Astronomy tower. Deep below, as if remnants of a naïve, childhood fantasy, lights twinkled, each red or green flash, meaning life or death, seeming like perfectly placed candles on a Christmas tree. I and Draco used to decorate those back home – when it used to be considered home to me. He would always get to add the finishing touches my empty mind had so desired simply because he was taller. I would wait on the bottom, enveloped in what I then considered grief, but what I would now consider bliss.

Memories come spinning back into my head as I brush a strand of very long, blond hair from my face. Now I am not standing at the top of the stairs, watching my brother destroy his fate, but lying softly in my own bed, cuddled in the sheets like a nest – now I am not sixteen, battered by the simple, cruel proses of life but seven, with my big silvery eyes clear and trustful.

I remember it perfectly – it was a warm August evening. For some reason it stayed in my memory.

"Morgan?" Came Draco's frantic whisper.

"What?" I replied sleepily.

"They said there would be a storm tonight."

I looked to the ceiling, amused, a smile creeping onto my lips. "And your point?"

"I thought... I thought you might be scared."

I laughed, taunting him. "More like you are, in your bed all alone, the thunder – "

"Alright, alright!" Came the answer. "Just shut up! No, I didn't mean to say that – "He tried to fix it as he heard my faint laughter. "Would you please just come?"

"Fine." I kicked back the covers and slid into his bed. It was comforting, in a way, sleeping with my brother – he was warm and comfortable, and him putting his arm around me would make me feel safe, even if it was to keep himself from being frightened as the forks of lightning shot through the black sky, illuminating our faces. "Draco?" I whispered.

"You don't have to say it," he muttered sleepily. "I love you too, Morgana."

That was the morning before Father showed him the Unforgivable and cut Draco away from me forever. We never did get to do that again.

"Draco, you are no assassin…"

I could see it, even though I could hardly see anything from my hiding spot. More so, I could feel it. My brother was about to lower his wand. Do it, Draco, I pleaded in my mind. Please. Don't make me choose that side because it's yours.

The next second, I was pushed into the wall brutally as Aunt Bella, the Carrows, Greyback, and a few others I didn't recognise burst onto the platform. As I felt the cold shills down my spine, I felt something else. Something real, flesh, warmth... someone must be there, invisible, ready to kill –

Before I could formulate that thought, something had finally dawned on Bella. About to threaten Draco, she leaped over to the staircase and seized me by the collar, my hair tugging down.

Her voice was honeyed, sappy and melodic. "Going somewhere, Morgana?"

"That's the Malfoy girl," Barked Greyback. "I KNOW!" Roared Bellatrix, a spell missing him by inches, then looking back to me, her smile condescending but her eyes hard as stone. "Sorry to spoil your little night out… but, you see, Morgana… -"she traced my face with her wand- "This table is occupied."

I struggled in vain – wrists against the wall, breath escaping in gasps, I could only focus on those huge, voluminous black eyes, tugging every bit of happiness from the world, from my soul. I bit m lip hard, drawing blood, to keep myself from answering her.

I shouldn't have bothered – she didn't want an answer. With a violent jerk, she pulled me to the barrier. I could feel empty air behind me, my Hogwarts skirt drifting eerily. Her wand was jammed to my throat, pushing me. My hands found no hold, grasping the air furtively.

One wish and she could push me over the edge. My wand was too far to reach.

I wasn't scared of Bellatrix Lestrange – not any more than I was scared of death itself. The looming dark figure had been for me an image of fairytales – no one could really, actually die… it was just a story… death was something that I have seen, but hadn't felt – the tragic end to any deeply written narrative. If she pushed me, I would not die – or so said my mind. My heart, though, was counting every beat as its last.

Draco's eyes locked with mine for a single second, then he turned back to Dumbledore, his wand aimed squarely, nothing less than pure terror in his face now. "I don't have a choice anymore. That's my sister," He tried to say.

Bellatrix put a bit of weight on my chest, causing me to lean back so far that, really, only my heels were touching the steel railing between life and death. My breathing became heavy and I looked into the stars, my trained eyes immediately finding the constellation Draco. So this is how I will die, I thought. Predictable ending, what's for dinner, mum?

I was insane. I was hysterical with fear, although I could never admit it to anyone but myself and the stars. Behind my calm, calculating face, I was screaming until my voice grew hoarse – and then some more until all that was left of me was dust.

"Does it hurt to die, Morgana?" The screaming voice in my head asked. "I don't know," my thoughts echoed in my mind. "Do you care?"

Even in May, I could see my breath escaping into the night air. Every breath meant I was still alive, still here … and Draco was still fighting.

Unable to look at him, I screamed out loud when I heard "Avada Kedavra" in a different voice, however familiar. I could not register at the time. I felt the pressure lessen and I fell into a heap on the floor of the landing, straightening up. I gasped, although knowing in my mind he was dead. "Draco – "

He looked at me, his eyes just as shocked. Then we simultaneously turned to see Dumbledore falling as though in a distant dream. I remember someone grabbing my shoulder, spinning me and Draco around, and forcing us down the stairs – then pushing me onto a floor, the hand still forcing Draco down the steps, into the grounds, and out of here. I sat on the floor, the black skirt covering me in a circle, then, for the second time in my life, I fell unconscious and all fell into a ringing, choking blackness.