Chapter 7: The Cathedral

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"So? What are you waiting for?"

Seeing Morgan Malfoy - once named Morgan Elizabeth Wells before the marriage they hadn't yet broken - hesitate was about the funniest thing Draco had ever seen, though he couldn't actually distingue her face.

"What are you waiting for?" he repeated.

"Shut up, Draco."

"Are you afraid?"

"Of you?" she mocked.

"Of my death."

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"That's why I loved you once."

"Is it why you betrayed me? Because you wanted someone sweet and gentle? Like Potter's wife?"

Draco froze and tried to step back, but she wouldn't retract her deadly wand, yet she didn't hit him.

"You saw me."

"I saw you both. Together. Kissing."

"Did it break your heart?" he scorned.

"At the risk of sounding cliché, Draco, you broke my heart long ago. There's nothing to be broken now, only ice."

"Hate."

"Exactly."

"So you want to kill me because I betrayed you?"

"Because you're still."

"We're still married, if that's what you mean."

"Yes."

"So what about a nice divorce and we just forget everything?"

"Forget it?" she screamed. "Forget it? Forget all the nights I passed crying; forget the pain, the fear, the hate? Oh, no. The only way I'll ever forget this is killing you."

"Bloodthirsty person."

"Just like you, no?"

"We were quite a match, weren't we? Everybody talked about us. The famous couple, the fantastically skilled dark wizards."

"It's past now. I'm on the other side."

"Just to have an excuse to slay me. You're evil, Morgan, just like me. You'll always be."

"That's my problem .Yours is to die now."

She began murmuring an avada kedavra.

"Wait" Draco whispered into her ear. "Wait for what I have to tell you."

"I don't want to listen to you" she replied, but she stopped the spell.

"You know that if you kill me, you lose the only one who could have killed Potter."

She laughed softly, completely sure of herself.

"You, kill Potter? Voldemort wants to execute you because he thinks you're changing the side. Because of Potter's wife."

"You're stupid, both. And I thought you were so brilliant…"

"I am brilliant." She snapped back proudly.

"And striking, and skilled. And my wife. So why kill me? We could do great things together."

Morgan spat again, and then turned her black eyes to him. Draco could see them shining in the moonlight, with the same fierceness as the day when they had married. He admired the whiteness of her skin, the waves of her dark hair, the sensual lines of her blood-red lips. She was so beautiful, it took his breath away. And yet she couldn't inspire him any feeling of love or sympathy. When they were still together, Draco remembered she'd stirred more lust than love. He'd adored her for the thrilling feeling of her cold skin against his', for the touch of her lips and the caresses of her silky hair. The ruthless shine in her eyes, the naughty smile on her lips, the coldness of her hand on his neck, everything in her betrayed her lack of scruples and of humanity. Not that Draco had any of these, though. But he could only hate her. As much as he had loved her once upon a time.

"Don't behave like a jerk, Draco."

"Alright. So now I'll tell you something seriously."

"Go on, it'll be the last thing you'll say."

"Perhaps you and Voldemort should have thought a little further away, because then, you'd have noticed how ridiculous it is to suppose I have something with Potter's wife."

"And the kiss?" she asked acidly.

"It was just a part of my plan. Don't you see? Just part of our plan. Potter is the weakest when he's alone. We've erased the Weasels, and we should make Granger – sorry, Potter's wife - disappear too."

"So what?"

"But she isn't that stupid. Not enough to let us kidnap her, at least."

Morgan's brow arched perfectly, showing what she thought of his excuse.

"Thus, the best is to make her vulnerable to the dark side. If I arrange it for her to fall for me, then she won't be able to hurt me. She doesn't love her husband."

"You think I'm so stupid I believe your tale?"

"I think you're smart enough to believe it. Oh, go to hell, Morgan. Why on earth should Potter's wife interest me?"

Morgan seemed to think about it.

"I wonder how she could, honestly" she muttered. "But it still sounds fake to me. You're just making fun of me."

"Would I dare, knowing you can kill me from one moment to the other? Come on, Morgan, isn't the story just too stupid to be false?"

"That's a brainless argument."

"Sorry, I need time to think of a good answer."

Morgan laughed again, knowing perfectly this was wrong. He was the smartest man she'd ever met. And the most handsome, and the most skilled. And the one she hated the most, for having betrayed her without hesitating.

"So?" Draco asked her.

"Let's talk to Voldemort."

If Draco really had something with Potter's wife, then killing her would be the worst thing Morgan could do to the blonde angel of darkness.

***

"Harry?"

"What, honey?"

"I'm afraid."

"You shouldn't."

Hermione looked away. He should have pressed her body against his', he should have protected her, he should have sworn nothing would ever happen to her next to him. But he hadn't. He'd just said "you shouldn't". As if he wasn't frightened to death too. But he was the guy who lived, the guy who had survived numerous attacks from Voldemort. He wasn't supposed to be afraid. He always won. Without doing anything impressing.

Hermione pulled her cloak around herself tighter to keep out the chill. The muggle road was deserted at this hour except for the occasional noise of a distant automobile.

It's never been so cold the day before my birthday, Hermione thought. Well, I won't have a party anyway, so…

It was true that it was unnaturally cool for late November weather; orange lights from building windows mocked the cold gray street below. Hermione sighed jealously at the thought of the innocent, unaware Muggles warm in their beds, innocent victims that she was working so hard to protect. Voldemort sent more and more Death Eaters to kidnap, kill and violate Muggles. Women were violated by male Death Eaters, children were thrown out of windows, men were tortured. To have a bit of fun. Hermione couldn't understand how people, humans, could be so cruel. Humans who could kiss so well.

Because Draco Malfoy was one of them, too. One of those who enjoyed violating virgins for the wonderful feeling of might it gave to be a girl's first man. One of those who broke children's skulls on their toys to laugh at the irony of the situation. One of those who whipped men to blood while they watched TV, just to have an excuse to put the volume louder.

One of the evils.

He was one of them. So she was supposed to hate him, but was she able of doing it?

The horrible new had surprised them all in the middle of the evening. All, it meant those who were left: Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Seamus Finnigan, Dean…

Fred and George Weasley, Padma Patil and many others had just disappeared, just like Ron and Ginny. Without any trace. Probably kidnapped, certainly tortured. Maybe dead.

The left Aurors had gathered together at the Potters' and Parvati had passed the evening crying for her sister while Harry repeated it was all his fault just to hear the others say "but no, Harry, you're our hero and you'll save us all." Then he'd smile pleased, only to start again a little later.

And then, the new. They had heard it on Magic TV, on the NFA (News for Fighting Aurors), the equivalent for CNN in the magic world. Hogwarts had been closed. Dumbledore had disappeared.

Hermione had cried of anger, but it hadn't helped. The situation was desperate. What would they do without Dumbledore? How would they prevent the Dark Lord from winning?

But then they had decided they had to do something except weeping for the losses. They had to fight.

With Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnigan, Harry and Hermione were exploring a cathedral in Whitechapel, where Death Eaters had appeared just some moments ago. Death Eaters seemed to have something against religion, because they had almost completely destroyed the beautiful building. The statues were thrown on the ground, the burning candles had put fire to the flowers, the stained glass windows were broken. Nothing left of the old glory of the cathedral.

Sons of bitches Hermione thought, putting a strand of chocolate brown hair behind her ear and looking around. How dare you…?

"It's terrible" Lavender murmured while she hid her head in Seamus cape. "It's terrible."

"Look! There!" Seamus had jumped up and was throwing fireballs from his wand to a Death Eater in a corner of the cathedral. The Death Eater fell dead on the ground, and more came.

"Paralyzing spells?" Harry proposed.

"No! We must kill them all, for what they did!" Hermione yelled.

"Paralyzing spells" Seamus agreed, taking her hand. "We shouldn't behave as cruelly as they do."

She looked away, slightly ashamed of her murdering impulse. Then she started paralyzing some Death Eaters. There weren't many, obviously most of them had already disappeared. After Harry, Hermione, Seamus and Lavender had defeated them all, they went to the place where they laid, dark against the white marble.

And then something fell on them.

Seamus and Lavender fell to the ground, lifeless, but Harry created a magic bubble around him and his wife, and the falling arch bounced against it and smacked against the wall, breaking in thousands of pieces. About two dozens of Death Eaters jumped from the sky, like falling Angels of darkness, and hoisted Seamus and Lavender up, and then ran away. Hermione wanted to follow them, to save her friends, but always more Death Eaters came and tried to break the bubble, so she had much work preserving it.

"It was a trap" said Harry while he propelled a Death Eater against a wall.

"Really?" his wife mocked.

"Let's vanish"

And then they were gone. First Harry and then Hermione disappeared in a blinding flash of light.

***

And they were just another piece in this chess game, just like he was.

Draco looked at the place where the shining bubble with the Potters in it had stood, and smiled coldly.

He was perched on the top of one of the rare arches which hadn't been destroyed previously, like a black-caped gargoyle, stonily still as he was trained to be. It was a simple, but deadly trap. The Potters and their friends had fallen just like he had expected they would. He was a genius.

"Smart plan, Draco."

"Thank you, Morgan."

The dark-caped young woman was at his side in one moment and watched the scene below them, the strands of her dark hair flying in the slight wind like snakes.

"With more force, we could have got the Potters too." She complained.

"That wasn't part of the plan."

"Does everything have to follow a plan? Why can't you just be emotive?"

Draco placed his orbs of molten silver on Morgan, and watcher her perfect, ethereal beauty. Then he looked away.

"Because emotions are the way to death. If you don't have human feelings, you don't live human death."

"That's stupidity."

"Think what you want."

She looked intensely at him with her burning black eyes, and then vanished. Draco sighed. It was good she was gone. Perhaps he wouldn't have resisted the urge of killing her one moment more. Then again, possibly she wouldn't have either.

The meeting with Voldemort had been perfect. He'd believed every single word, still faster than Morgan had. He'd smiled at the sight of Draco bowing in front of him and promising eternal faith. Draco had always been great at telling lies.

And what had pleased the Dark Lord still more had been his new, brilliant plan. A trap. To destroy even the last bounds of friendship the Potters had made. Break them all. While the Potters, Seamus and Lavender were going to the cathedral, Death Eaters had ravaged the others' houses. Kidnapped Parvati Patil and the Weasley twins.

Now Harry and Hermione were alone.

Draco smiled in the darkness, and jumped down the arch. The wind whipped his face, he extended his cape so that it looked like a bat's wings. It felt great.

The ground came always nearer, and Draco enjoyed the feeling of flirting with death. The ground was not more than two or three feet away. And then he vanished.

***

"Am I supposed to believe the stuff with Potter's wife?"

"You again, Morgan?"

"Who else?"

"So what? I thought we had come to an agreement."

"Come on, Draco. We're both too bright to believe lies. So what was that with Potter?"

"What I told you."

"I don't like falsehood."

"Talk to someone else, then."

"Tell me the truth."

"You're jealous."

"I told you there was nothing in my heart which could still make me jealous. Only ice."

"You sound ridiculous. Why do you ask, then?"

"Because I officially belong to the goods, I'm an Auror, if you have forgotten it."

"So what? Will you just join them and tell Granger I've used her?" he laughed.

"She'd deny having kissed you."

"Smart girl."

"Don't make me laugh."

"She is smart, though she's good."

Morgan seemed to consider the fact, and then nodded slowly.

"Yes, she's quite judicious. Then again, she always takes the wrong decisions. Lots of brain, and no nous."

Granger.

She'd always be Granger for Draco. Never Potter.

He was a Death Eater, she was an Auror. He was evil, she was good. He was unscrupulous, she was conscientious. He'd been a Slytherin, she'd been a Gryffindor. They had always been rivals, since their time in Hogwarts. Though Draco hadn't cared much of his marks, he'd always been an excellent student. But Hermione had always been a little bit better, just a little bit, enough to make her be the teachers' pet. And, to make things worse, she'd been a member of the Dream Team, the great heroes, those Dumbledore adored and who never, ever had got into trouble. Potter – the boy who lived to break the weaslette's heart and whose feet seemed to irresistibly attractive, since everybody wanted to lick them, Weasley – the poor redhead who'd vomited snails, and Granger – brain without looks. The Dream Team. The adventurers.

Thinking of it, Draco wanted to vomit. How could it possibly not make someone sick?

But now, they were more than just rivals. It was more than just a Quidditch game, more than just opposition because of the marks. It was war.

"So?" Morgan asked with a smile that showed her perfect white teeth.

"I hate her."

It wasn't true.

Now, Granger had still her brains, but she had also good looks. She was quite pretty, now she combed her hair and put on something that didn't make her look like a monk. Prettier than most of the female Death Eaters Draco used to sleep with.

And her lips had such a soft, yet firm touch, such a sensual form, it was pleasant to kiss them.

And it was forbidden.

Which was partly why Draco had enjoyed their kiss so much. And why he suddenly felt the push for kissing her again.

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