Chapter 5: Night

Disclaimer: I don't own any character except Morgan and Mildred. I do own the plot, though.

I dedicate this chapter to

~ Dreaming One – I know I should write longer chapters, and I'll do what I can, though this chapter isn't going to be long either. I hope I'll make it better next time. As for the descriptions, you're totally right, but I simply don't like describing things. I'll make efforts, though.

~ Steel Azalea – it's nice to know there are people who like my story

~ Wildcat AZ – thanks for the compliment

~ Luna Elentari – I know Ron's too sissy, and I'll try to improve that. As for your story, I checked it and read the first chapter and I liked it!

~ tortuga23 – here is the draco-part which you awaited, I hope it'll please you.

~ Demetre Ironhilt – thanks a lot, I didn't know there were people who were as nice as you. Besides, I like the title of my story too *smiles* it comes from a poem I wrote.

~ Amber – I'm glad you like my fanfic.

Now, most of the reviews were positive and I'm so happy! I simply adore it when people review my fanfic, even if it's "constructive criticism". So read and review!!! J

Oh, and I'm sorry if there are mistakes, it's midnight and I begin feeling tired so I don't have time to re-read it all.

Draco woke up with a start in the middle of the night. He was in his room, in Malfoy Manor, an almost completely wooden, old-fashioned and immense house which belonged to him since his father's death. It was Lucius' fault if he had become a Death Eater, though he didn't have anything against it. He liked it. It made him feel so strong, so powerful. It was as if the whole world was at his feet. And it felt so good.

What is it I don't have in my life? he thought. I'm gorgeous, rich, powerful, famous… what more can I ask?

It would sound like cliché to say "love", so he didn't think it. He could sleep with whichever girl he wanted, so, why should he care about an abstract thing like love? He had had so many one-night stands he had given up counting them. Yet the good feeling had disappeared after the three first dozens. It didn't amuse him any more.

Draco turned around in his bed and stared at the ceiling, suddenly thinking of the Dream Team. Potter, Granger and Weasley were supposed to be happy. Really happy. Not perversely like him. Potter and Granger were married together, and Weasley' hair had faded into a quite acceptable auburn. Which meant he wasn't that unpopular with women. Now he thought about it, he remembered Granger's smile, her chocolate-colored hair and the way she had actually defended him. He wondered why, but she really had. And the thought he owed something to someone, especially if it was a member of the Dream Team, made him sick.

He got up, realizing he wouldn't fall asleep again, put off his pajama and got dressed with a black shirt with short sleeves and black jeans. After having switched on the light, Draco threw a glance at his mirror, and smiled.

I'm so sexy, he thought, lost in the contemplation of his gorgeous self. His almost shoulder-long platinum blonde hair was no longer combed back with gel as during his Hogwarts-time, but hung lose and some strands fell on his face when he bent to put on his black sneakers.

A bit too black, isn't it? He asked himself. Then he thought how handsome he looked in black, and smirked again.

He walked out of his room, and admired the cold beauty of his home. The walls were very high, made of ebony, the ceilings were decorated with old but still fresh paintings, but what Draco liked the most was the ever-present coldness and darkness. He loved darkness like one adored one's country or a lover, with a passionate and almost blind love. He loved the night with all his senses, with his eyes that saw her, his smell that scented its perfume, his ears that listened to the silence, his skin that the shadows caressed. The larks sung in the sun, in the blue air, in the hot air, in the light air of the clear mornings. The owl fled in the night, black stain that flew in the black space, and, jovial, made tipsy by the black immensity, it heaved its sinister and vibrating cry, which echoed in the silence.

The day tired and bored him. He thought it was brutal and noisy. Every morning, he would get up unwillingly, get dressed wearily, and go out sighing. And sometimes, not even the pleasure of being evil cheered him up.

But when the sun would fall, a confuse joy would steal over him. He would really wake up, live up. As the shadow would grow, he would feel different, stronger, more agile, happier. He would watch as the darkness thickened, the immense sweet shadow which fell from the sky; it'd drown the city, like an unseizable and impenetrable wave; she'd hide, erase, destroy the forms, the colors, the noises. Silence and darkness would reign. Then he would want to cry out of pleasure like the owls, run on the roofs like the cats, and an ardent desire of loving would overcome him.

This night, Draco thought it was more splendid than ever, more silent, and shadier. As he closed the door of Malfoy Manor behind him, he felt like he was the king of the night. But he had no time to become megalomaniac, because he suddenly stopped. He had heard something. His silver eyes pierced the darkness, but he couldn't distinguish anything. He turned around, and then he felt a cold touch on his neck, like metal. He smiled coolly.

"Let me guess", he hissed. "Potter?"

He felt his aggressor's warm breath on his face, and realized it was a woman.

"Granger?"

"Not any more."

"Oh, true, you're married to the Boy Who Lived to Be Famous.", he mocked.

"At least I don't kill and kidnap people."

Draco Malfoy didn't know whether to feel complimented or offended by this remark, so he concentrated on perceiving where Hermione stood. He didn't see her shape, but he felt her body very close to him, so he could sense her warmth, her emotion. And oddly, it didn't disgust him as much as he had thought it would.

"You've come to ask me what I had done to your friends."

"Smart, Malfoy."

"I know."

"Tell me, now."

"Otherwise?"

"Otherwise I'll have no scruples and will plunge this knife into your neck."

He laughed sarcastically.

"Would you?"

"Oh, I would", she replied, trying to firm her voice.

Strangely, his presence made her feel excited. She noticed her heart begun beating quicker, her breathing sacked slowly.

"Afraid, Granger?" he asked, noticing her trouble.

His presence always had that effect on women, and Granger still controlled herself very well in comparison to most of the other women. He raised his left hand and passed his finger over the smooth surface of the knife. Then he gradually advanced towards her, unless his long slender fingers touched her cheek. Hermione felt coldness on her lips and knew his fingers were stroking them. She couldn't move away. She couldn't.

"Of the numerous mistakes you've made, Granger", she heard his cold whisper "marrying Potter was the worst."

I know, she thought unwillingly, blaming herself immediately.

"What do you know, Malfoy?" she started to say, but she was interrupted by him kissing her.

Theirs was a short but passionate kiss, and, as their tongues under twined, Draco had the feeling he had missed for so long. As for Hermione, she couldn't help enjoying the touch of his cold, smooth but firm lips on hers, and passed her fingers through his silky hair. Then suddenly, she became aware of what she was doing, and broke the kiss.

"Bad conscience, Granger?" Draco mocked, not even breathing more quickly.

"Potter", she corrected.

She heard his sarcastic laughter, and then nothing more. For one terrible moment, she feared he might be gone, so she whispered:

"Are you still here?"

He laughed once more:

"Would you mind if I weren't?"

"No. Of course I wouldn't."

"What did you want, Granger?"

"Potter", she repeated weakly, but she knew he wouldn't pay attention on that. "I want you to tell me where my friends are."

"Do you really expect me to do this?"

"I'm asking you to."

He smiled in the darkness, and it seemed to her she could almost see his grin.

"Forget it, Granger. Go back home to your dear husband."

She bit her lips. How could it be he had kissed her so passionately only a few seconds before and now he was almost ignoring her?

"Malfoy, please. Are they alright?"

"They're alive."

"I know you want to catch us all so Harry stays alone."

"Smart, Granger", he said like she had just some minutes ago.

"I know."

"We're not that different, you know? I wonder why you had to marry a looser like Potter."

"He's no looser." She said, but it felt wrong even to her ears.

"What else?" he asked.

She hesitated for a long time, and then murmured:

"Why did you kiss me?"

He needed a couple of moments to answer:

"Go back home, Granger."

And then she noticed he had disappeared.

***

When Hermione appeared in her bed by Harry's side again, her heart was still beating quickly, and she was still confused by the kiss. Not because she thought it terrible to be kissed by the enemy. Because she had liked it.

She blamed herself for being so stupid. Draco had just wanted to have some fun. He had just played with her, like with all the other women he had ever gone out with. He had the reputation of being an unfaithful lover, and Hermione didn't doubt of it.

"How was it?" Harry whispered, turning around to face her.

She had first not wanted to tell him where she was going, but he had caught her grabbing a kitchen knife and so she had been forced to involve him in the secret. What disgusted her about it was that he had made no attempt of going with her to help her. He had simply tried to persuade her of not doing it, and as she had insisted, he had nodded and told her he would wait for her and call for help if she didn't come after half an hour.

Hermione hesitated. She had always told him the truth, but this…?

"Bad. He wasn't there."

"Oh. Too bad. We'll see tomorrow."

Hermione arched her eyebrows in surprise.

We'll see tomorrow? She repeated mentally. She couldn't believe he simply gave in so easily. It was coward.

"Good night, darling" Harry whispered and kissed her gently.

She felt the sudden urge of breaking the kiss, but didn't do it. Harry was her husband. Draco was her enemy. Guess whom she was supposed to kiss.

"Good night… Harry" she wasn't able of saying "darling" but he didn't notice it.

He turned around and switched his lamp off.

Hermione stood long awake in the darkness. Draco loved the night. He was a creature of darkness. Evil. But why the hell did he kiss so well?

***

Morgan Wells appeared in her room immediately. She couldn't believe what she had just seen. It was unbelievable. Hermione Potter, wife of the famous Harry Potter, had kissed Draco Malfoy, Voldemort's right hand. A Death Eater and an Auror. How pathetical. How infuriating.

She saw in the night almost half as good as in the day, Merlin knew why. It was a gift her father had had too, and so she had inherited it.

She had known Malfoy went out almost every night, because he loved the night. Like her. He had told her. He would regret it. She hated him so much…

She had first loved him madly, and then he had betrayed her with that stupid blonde girl, Millie, or Mildy or something like that. When she had noticed it, it was as if her world had broken into hundreds of pieces and then fallen over her like a rain of black stars. She had loved him so much, and he had betrayed her. She had sworn to herself to take revenge. One day, she had promised, she'd kill Draco Malfoy.

And so, when she had come back to England, every week, on Friday night, she had gone out to watch for the best moment to attack him. She had first looked for him wherever he was last sighted, with little success. Then she had thought he might still live in Malfoy Manor, and she had been lucky. She had watched him in the shadows, waiting for the right time. But always, he had his wand, and she knew she couldn't deal with it, never mind how skilled she was. He was more. And this Friday night, as she had waited in the darkness, she had seen her. Hermione. With a knife. Morgan had considered jumping on her and saving her, because she knew she wasn't able of fighting Draco, but Potter had surprised her. She had attacked Malfoy cleverly, and then Morgan had hesitated again. Should she let Hermione kill the man she wanted to slay herself? It would destroy her act of revenge. But then, the positions had changed. Hermione suddenly hadn't seemed so sure of herself. And then they had kissed.

Morgan Wells' heart had burned. Hate? Anger? Or perhaps jealousy? She wouldn't know.

What she knew was that she had to hurry up with her plan or something would get wrong. Terribly wrong.