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Chapter Text

Hermione didn’t notice the vampire stalking her. There had never been any sightings in this forest, so she hadn’t thought to be careful. It was midday after all. Nor did the weather inspire fear. It could not have been a more beautiful late spring day in the forest, with the yellow sun flickering through the leaves of the trees to the ground. It was days like this that Hermione found herself grateful for her work.

Though her job at the ministry involved little more than processing paperwork, her side experiments on magical humanoid creatures were much more thrilling. Thrilling and frustrating both. At the moment, Hermione was working on brewing a balm from a historical text. Or attempting to anyway; it had yet to work. The potion called for garlic, and she wondered if the store-bought kind was incorrect. That’s what brought her to the forest that day; she was hunting for wild garlic.

Distracted by the plants, Hermione didn’t notice the vampire coming for her until her body hit the ground. She landed hard, exposed roots digging into her side. She struggled, trying to throw the vampire off her, but it had her pinned down. Fangs snapped the air near her neck, barely kept at bay by efforts to keep the creature away. She fought to reach her wand in her pocket but couldn’t manage it. The wand remained in her pocket, out of reach and useless.

The vampire had a face she didn’t recognize, an older man, larger than her. She struggled anyway, clawed at the monster, but it was too strong for her. Hermione simply refused to go out like this. She was confident in only a few spells without a wand, none of them known to do anything against a vampire. Her mind ran through spells that could ward of a vampire. Stupify. Bombarda. Incendio. All needed wands.

In her panic, Hermione thought that she had to fight because no one knew she was out here. So, she fought. She clawed at the things face and tried to cast a spell that she’d never done wandless. Sectumspecra. Nothing. The vampire, unable to reach her neck, bit down on her arm, and yanked. Skin and blood came with it. Hermione cried out. Either her panic or the taste of blood send the vampire into more of a frenzy.

Digitus electra. A jolt of power came through her, not enough to be effective. She cast it again, and this time, she felt the zap of electricity through her fingers. The vampire hissed in pain, and it let go of her. Hermione scrambled to stand, to reach for her pocket, but the vampire was on her again, too fast. She cried in frustration. All that for nothing. She couldn’t get away from the thing. Her neck was yanked roughly to the side, and then vampire bit down on exposed skin. The pain was incredible as the fangs sank into her.

Hermione started crying. She didn’t want to go. Not now, not like this. The creature drank and drank. Hermione felt like she was outside of her body, not processing what was happening to her. Satisfied, the vampire got off of her. Weak and barely alive, Hermione lay on the forest floor. Dizzy from blood loss, she tried to stand, but she found she couldn’t, that it was too much effort.

Get up, Hermione thought to herself. Get up. You’re not dead yet. She pulled her wand out of her pocket, or what was left of it. It had snapped somewhere in the struggle. She attempted to cast sparks into the air, hoping someone would see, but the spell backfired on her.

The next thing she knew she was being dragged by the arm. She reached for an exposed root and held on, but her hands were quickly ripped from it, as the vampire continued its task.

Death terrified Hermione. Losing her mind even more so. By his behavior, he was trying to turn her. Hermione didn’t give up hope that she could be rescued until she was buried in her grave in the forest.

There, under the soil, her clever mind slipped away from her. Thought by thought. Until there was nothing but hunger.

Chapter Text

Draco hoped to one day have a full meal without being disrupted by a monster attack. Today was not that day. His steak was going to get cold while he answered the call on his cuff. Which was a shame because he’d been looking forward to going to this restaurant all week.

The alarm cuff was glowing red, signifying an all-call emergency. He had no choice but to go, steak regretfully abandoned at the bar.  

Draco changed into his fighting suit and double checked that all of his weapons were strapped somewhere on his body. Wand. Backup wand. Knife. Back up knife. Wooden stake. Then he keyed into the cuff’s jump point and apparated to the location of the attack.

The cuff took Draco to a busy street in London. Muggle London. The streets should have been busy with muggles walking from pub to pub on this Saturday night. Instead, it was chaos. Muggles were barricading pub doors with chairs and other furniture they could find. So many witnesses, so many confundus charms he was going to have to cast. He wasn’t even going to make it back to the bar for last call.

His location felt like the periphery of the attack rather than the epicenter. Or maybe the monster had passed through. It was odd that something had spooked the muggle this badly without any damage to buildings. There were only a few monsters that could do that.

With a pop, Pansy apperated next to Draco. Pansy looked sleek in her black suit, her hair pulled into a tight bun.

“Muggle London,” she groaned.

“Unfortunately,” Draco said.

Draco cast an oculus lumos spell that allowed him to see in the dark. He regretted that immediately. There was blood splatter covering the pavement.  

Within moments the others answered the all-call. Knott, Crabbe, Bulstrode. Everyone except the bastard in charge.

“Where’s Zambini?” Draco asked.

“He had a meeting with the Minister,” Millie said. Millie’s stocky frame drew the attention of the muggles. Indeed, if you didn’t know that Millie was the biggest softie around her size could be intimidating.

“He seems to be missing more all-calls lately,” Draco said.

“Don’t be bitter.” Pansy reprimanded. “It’s not like you’d want to be in that meeting.”

Draco chose to aperate to his position rather than respond to her. He didn’t want to think about Blaise now. He popped back into the grid they created on the other side of the square.

Draco hated working in the city. There were too many hiding places. Too many variables. Like the muggles currently screaming and running.

It didn’t take Draco long to find the first victim. He was conscious but slumped against the wall. His arm had been ripped out of the socket.  

Draco cast healing spells, but the wounds wouldn’t mend. A sure sign of venom. It confirmed what the monster was at least. For all the work they’d have to do for clean-up, at least the monster itself would be easy to off. He’d become quite bored of vampires. Though, it was unusual to find one in the city like this. They usually kept to themselves in the forest. Draco gave the man dittany to rub on his wounds and moved on, drawn by the screams.

That’s when he saw the bodies. Mauled and broken on the ground. No matter how many times he saw it, Draco never got used to finding the dead. But he kept moving, needing to stop the attack.  

He kept walking, closing the circle with the rest of the group. The perimeter was designed to keep monsters from escaping, though that wouldn’t be a problem in this case. This monster was being anything but subtle.

The streets had cleared quickly, though the muggles continued to barricade the doors, and a few brave ones peaked out of windows. As Draco moved in, he cast a ward around the perimeter and a ward around the muggles. Keeping them penned and contained.  

The trail of blood was easy enough to follow. Draco caught sight of the vampire, bent over a muggle. A muggle that was no longer conscious, based on the way that his body hung limply in the monster’s grasp. Draco’s blood ran cold upon seeing the vampire’s hair. Thick and bushy, the same length as… no, he wouldn’t think about her. This wasn’t her. She’d be more careful than that.  

Practiced as he was, the spell came quickly to Draco’s mind. Stupify. The spell hit the vamp dead on in the back, and the vampire fell to the ground, the muggle falling aside.

Spells didn’t work as well on vampires, so Draco followed it up with an incarcarus. The vampire remained still, stupefied and bound. The binds would hold until Draco could stake the thing.

But when Draco got close, he froze, stunned by the appearance of a familiar face.

“Granger,” Malfoy breathed, but the monster staring back at him made it obvious that Granger was gone, this feral creature left in her place.

Chapter Text

Two Days Before

Draco

Draco could not fathom why he had been called to Granger’s office. It was normal for a hunter to be called to other departments but he was having a hard time figuring out why his expertise was needed at The Department of Transportation. Maybe a manticore had taken up residence in the night bus.

Granger's office was tucked around a corner and nearly hidden from view. So hidden that Draco had to ask two people where it was. Her office was filled with scrolls and books and whirling instruments. It made Draco anxious to be around so much clutter, though Granger seemed right at home in the mess. Her appearance was just as chaotic; her cardigan baggy, her hair a tangle of curls.

She’d taken time to study at a muggle university, and Draco could not remember the last time he’d seen her. He didn’t remember her looking quite so lush, like she’d grown into herself. He stared a heartbeat too long, but she was too focused on her work to notice.  Draco cleared his throat to announce himself.  

Granger picked her head up and looked him over with her inquisitive brown eyes. He supposed he looked quite different too. At the very least she’d never seen him in his uniform. The dragon hide leather was designed to protect against bites, but it had the added benefit of looking sleek. He couldn’t deny that he liked the way the girls looked at him when he wore the black suit. Granger appeared unaffected.

“Good morning, Malfoy,” she said. So formal, like he was a coworker she’d never met.

“Good morning,” Draco said. He could be polite too. If she wanted to pretend there wasn’t history between them that was fine with him. He benefitted more from ignoring their past than she did.

“I need your opinion on something,” she said.

“I’m afraid I know little about how floo networks fuction.” Granger was unamused by his smartass answer.

“It’s doesn’t have anything to do with my job. It’s more of a…a personal interest.”

“Professional or not, Blaise it the one who usually handles any communication between the departments.”

“I already talked to Zambini, and he said you had more field experience with what I’m interested in.” He hadn’t been her first choice. That made more sense to him than her voluntarily calling him to her office.   

“Alright then.”

She shuffled papers around her desk, looking for something. Though how she could find anything in the pile was beyond him.

“Before we go any further, I was hoping that you would sign a non-disclosure agreement. A charmed one.” A paper flew into her hands with a silent flick of a wand.

That peaked his curiosity. What was she working on that would require this level of silence? It seemed that Granger returned to the wizarding world only to get straight to work.  

Draco didn’t like the idea of being bound in silence. Contracts like that could have some interesting consequences, not to mention that unpleasant feeling if he ever tried to talk about what he learned today.   

 “Can I ask what we are going to talk about before I sign something?”

She chose her words carefully. “I would ask about your experience on a certain monster and inquiring about a book from the Malfoy collection.”

“How specific.” Granger looked at him with a displeased look that he knew very well. He just hadn’t been able help himself. “And the specific creature is classified until I sign?”

“Yes. I don’t want my research getting out.” That was understandable. Research was quite competitive. Other scientists would do unspeakable things to get their hands on another’s work. Especially if the researcher was the golden girl herself; especially if the endeavor had the potential to be lucrative. “And of course you don’t have to answer any questions that you don’t want to.”

“Then I don’t have a problem with signing.” He hoped that the smile he gave her came off as agreeable but he worried it would appear more as a smirk.

Granger nodded and busied herself signing the parchment. One signature at the beginning to start the contract, and one at the end. Draco did the same, and the text of the parchment began glowing red, signifying that whatever they talked about was bound by magic to silence.

Granger pulled out a muggle notebook, with her messy scrawl all over the page.

“I find it more convenient than chasing bits of parchment around,” she said, when she saw him looking.  

Draco waited as she fussed. Finally, it seemed as though she was ready to begin.

“I’d like you to tell me everything that you know about vampires.”  

Draco’s eyes narrowed. Vampires? What Godforsaken Gryffindor bravery sent her down that path?

“Nothing good can come out of researching them.”

“Part of the reason that I brought you here was to inquire if this is even something worth pursuing.”

“Then it will be a short meeting because the answer to that is, no it isn’t.”

“But we know so little about them. The field has so much potential.”

“With all respect, the best thing you can do with a vampire is to kill it. Not only for safety reasons, but in respect for the person who turned.”

“But if there was a chance to bring them back from their madness?” Draco looked for any signs of delusion on her face, but she truly believed that this was possible. That this was a worthwhile pursuit.

“Have you ever seen a vampire, Granger?”

“Not a live one.”

“You’d take one look and know there’s no bringing the person back.”

She seemed unaffected, merely took and breath and launched into an explanation.

“I was reading the journal of a witch from the 1800s, Cordelia Ashwood. Fascinating read. So many magics lost to time.” She got a far off look in her face for a moment, like she was thinking fondly of reading the thing. “Back to the point, her sister was attacked and turned. And remarkably, Cordelia writes of how she brought her sister back to sanity.”  

Draco snorted. “Sounds like a fantastical story to me.”

“That’s what I thought at first, especially because there aren’t any details about how she managed it. Except that, I’ve read every report I could get my hands on, and her account is otherwise completely factual. So why wouldn’t this also be true? Maybe she really did it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t vampirism. Maybe it was another affliction or illness.”

“Would you answer my questions anyway?”

Draco did not want to anymore, he never thought that she’d be interested in this of all things. But he answered every question she asked as she took notes.

He hoped that his gruesome stories scared some sense into her. If there was a way that he could convince her that nothing good could come out this he would. People who chased the creatures of the night ended up dead, without fail. He added every gory detail he could remember. It wasn’t difficult because the vampire attacks were burned into his memory.   

No question she asked shocked him as much as the one that did not come from the notebook but rather straight out of her mouth.  

“Do you think it would be possible to capture a live vampire for testing?”

Draco’s eyes blew wide. Clearly, she hadn’t been listening. “Capture one?

“Yes.” Merlin, she was serious. She looked at him without flinching.

“I think it’s an idiotic idea,” Malfoy regretted his choice of words as they came out of his mouth. He did not mean to imply that she was idiotic, only that she was blinded by whatever foolish plan she was thinking. He waited for her to say something snippy in retaliation, but she only nodded her head.

“I guess that answers that.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you were stupid for wondering. Only that there’s a host of reasons why it’s too dangerous. Even if you could capture one, it would be nearly impossible to work with. I don’t think the risk would be worth anything gained.”

“Thank you for your input.” She wrote something down.

“Seriously Granger. Vampires can be taken down, but I can’t imagine the danger of keeping one alive for long.”

“I’m not going to do it if you think it’s that dangerous. As you said. It would be idiotic.”

Draco was pleased she’d agreed so easily, but he was at a loss with what to say. He simply said “good.”

“And the book you needed?”

“Blood Curses and Afflictions by Atticus Pendergast.”

She must enjoy playing with fire this one. The only reason that book wasn’t burned was because of his family’s blood obsession. There were spells in that book that would give anyone nightmares.  

Granger finished her notes like he wasn’t even there she was so lost in thought and Draco watched. The contract between them continued to glow, highlighting the curves of her face. The light seemed to hit every wall of her office. What a strange place to squander such a mind.

“Why are you working in transportation?” Draco asked.

“It was the only ministry job open at the time.”

“I imagine you’ll work your way up.”  

“That’s the plan.” She gave him an unsure smile. “Why did you go into monster hunting?”

“If I told you something, would you have to keep it secret?” Draco inquired.

She gestured towards the contract. “My signature is on the parchment just like yours.”

“It was the only respectable job open to us. The only thing that us ex-death eaters are good for is monster fodder.” He waited for her to recoil, but she didn’t.  

“I’m sorry if I stepped on a touchy subject.”

“Merely stating what everyone can see for themselves.”  

“Regardless. You seem to be good at it.”

“We’ve done the best with what we’ve been given.”

“I know that there’s been a decline in fatalities because of your group.”

“You’ve researched that?” He was surprised to find that he cared what she thought of him.

“Harry mentions working with you sometimes.” Ah, Potter.

“Since we’re still under contract, Potter is pleasant to talk to. Sometimes.”

Granger smiled. “Your secret won’t get out. I believe he’s just as surprised as you are about your burgeoning friendship.”

“Friendship may be a touch too far.”

Granger signed the contract, followed by Malfoy, and the paper stopped glowing, ending the charm.  

“Thank you for your time,” Granger said, and he was dismissed.

“Of course. If anything, it was nice to know that we could have a civil conversation.” He wanted to leave her with one more warning, except that the contact was binding his tongue into silence.

There were apologies that Draco wanted to make, but he didn’t. He assumed there would be another time.  

Present

Seeing Granger turned, Draco could not help but feel like he’d failed her. That he had failed to convey the gravity of the situation and Granger had gone and done something stupid in the pursuit of her research.

He couldn’t do anything but think of the book that was sitting on his nightstand. He could have sent it by owl but he wanted to deliver it in person. And he couldn’t help but wonder if he had just gotten that damn book to her faster, if she would be OK.  

Chapter Text

Pansy

Pansy, like any witch, grew up with a healthy fear of magical beasts. The forest was crawling with all kinds of creatures waiting to catch a child unaware. There was the merfolk that would snatch anyone walking next to the lake and dragons that liked to live in caves and roast children for sport. But Pansy was grown up now. With each kill she made, most of that childish fear had lessened. Though some creatures were just as terrifying as they’d always been. Vampires were one of those creatures. There was something bone chilling about the inhuman stare.  

Already, the vampire on the ground was stirring, shaking off the spell. Draco, the idiot, stood frozen in place, hand hovering over his stake. If he noticed the vamp moving, he made no move to immobilize it again.  

“petrificus totalus,” Pansy said. The spell hit the vampire dead on and stilled it, though the eyes remained focused with predator awareness on its nearest target. A certain blond-haired fool.

Perhaps seeing someone he knew had unnerved Draco, even though this thing barely looked like the girl Pansy knew. Granger’s hair was matted and covered in filth. Her clothes hung off her body in tatters and any bare skin was coated in blood and dirt. It seemed like she’d recently crawled out of her grave.

Pansy supposed she should stop calling the creature by name; it only gave her unnecessary feelings that she could not afford if she wanted to make it home to her wife.   

Insults and teases for Draco popped into her mind, but something told Pansy that doing so would be cruel. He seemed truly rattled; it happened to the best of them.

“Lost your nerve?” She didn’t mean to sound so harsh, nor to sneer at him.

“I just saw her two days ago.” Draco sounded hollow, like he wasn’t entirely in his body.

Pansy waited for Draco to snap out of it, but he still looked spooked. The longer it went on, the more it terrified her.   

“I’ll do it if you can’t.” Though it was a cruel fate that decided Pansy Parkinson would kill Hermione Granger. Facing the idea of doing the staking itself made her almost as uneasy as Draco.  Though she was better at pushing those feelings down. Pansy took her stake from her belt. But Draco did not move out of the way. He even took a step closer to Granger, as if he was protecting her. Pansy didn’t think that Draco cared about Granger. Enough was enough, they had a job to do.

“Draco,” Pansy snapped. She didn’t know what she was going to say to him. His behavior was utterly nonsensical. And it was pissing her off.

Crabbe aperated next to them, braced for a fight. His posture relaxed when he took in the scene in front of him.

“Is something wrong?” Crabbe asked. He cocked one eyebrow up.

“We’re only waiting for Draco to come back to his senses,” Pansy said. Pansy cast an incarcerous, hoping the ropes would hold the vampire better, but she knew no matter what they cast, they were only biding time. Granger’s death was inevitable.  

Draco’s eyes bounced wildly between his friends and Granger. He looked as if he was trying to speak but no words came out of his mouth. After too long a moment he blurted out “We can’t kill Hermione Granger.” The sentence was followed by a frustrated noise.

Pansy could not believe that sentence had come out of his mouth. “It’s not Granger anymore.” Draco was turning an already bad night into a worse one. Bad enough that Pansy was called away from her warm bed, she hadn’t counted on talking sense into her mad friend.

“How is it going to look if we murder the Golden Girl?” Draco said. “Someone is going to claim that we did it without cause.”

A slew of curses ran through Pansy’s mind. “She killed at least three muggles, in plain view. We’ll offer them memories if anyone doubts that she turned.”

Draco crossed his arms, like he was trying to protect himself. “We’ll stake her, but not yet. We’ll bring her to Potter so that he can see that she’s a vampire, so that no one can doubt it.”  

“That’s a stupid idea,” Greg chimed in.

“Absolutely mental,” Pansy said.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s my call,” Draco said. Both of them knew that when Draco got like this there was no changing his mind, hardheaded as he was. Draco cast another spell, making Granger immobile again.

Containing a vampire for even a shot time was nearly impossible.

“And how do you suppose we keep this vampire until Potter can come see her?” Pansy said.

“The manor dungeons should hold her,” Draco said.

“Zambini is not going to like it.” Pansy would throw any argument that she could to make Draco see reason, but it seemed there was no logic that could sway him. She couldn’t fight nonsense with logic.   

“If you don’t like it, you can leave.” Draco was daring Pansy to turn away, but everyone knew she would help him if he asked. Greg would follow Draco to the ends of the Earth, even if it got him killed. And Pansy wasn’t going to let them hurt themselves. Draco relaxed when he realized that Pansy was going to help him.

“Remember that I did this for you when I need a possibly fatal favor,” Pansy said.

“No one is dying.” Draco’s mouth was set in a hard line.

“Lying while asking for a life-threatening favor does not look good.”

Theo popped into the alleyway as the group was talking how to move a crazed vampire. “Why am I the only one dealing with the witness situation?” Theo asked.  

“Because our dear Draco has gone mad,” Pansy said.

Hermione

Hermione was trapped behind some wall in her mind. It was as if she was watching her actions through a hazy veil. But her body was in control, and she was helpless to it. She understood that there were people talking around her, just as she understood that if they’d let her move, she would be at their throats before they could keep her down with their sticks.

Above all, she was so, so hungry. She could smell the blood humming through their veins, and she knew how good it taste.   

Blood was all she wanted. She was driven mad with the want of it. Clawed her way out of the ground for it.

She had stumbled through the forest, following scent trails and trying to find the animals that made them. Anything to quell the hunger.  She hadn’t needed to walk far before catching the scent of people, a crowd of them. Their smell was much, much better than that of an animal.

The people’s smell drove her into a frenzy. She clawed and bit, but they struggled. Instinct compelled her to bite, and she latched onto a vein, tearing at skin. It felt like bliss. It made her want more. So, she went after another and another. It wasn’t enough.

Hermione was aware that she was taking lives but had no presence of mind to care. They fell one by one.

She didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, until one human with silver hair waved a stick at her. He stank like an animal, but underneath it she could smell him. He’d fall just like the others, once she could move. She’d kill them for the indignity of putting her nose in the dirt.

She strained against the spell that bound her, and soon enough the magic was burned through. But they hit her again and again. Keeping her down.

Before long they had her bound in ropes and thrown in box. She’d once known it to be a van. Again and again, the silver haired human hit her with spells, keeping her still. It was as if she could feel the magic snuffing out. Once, she managed to make one lunge for him before he immobilized her again. He didn’t flinch.

He spoke to her in a soft, soothing voice to attempt to calm her.

“What did you get yourself into Granger?” he remarked.  

After the ride, she was levitated into a cell. Though it was dark, she had no trouble seeing.

Once they stopped casting spells on her, Hermione threw herself at the walls, anything to get out. Again and again. Mindless.

Hermione rammed against the bars and was pleased when one of them bent. All the while, cold, gray eyes stared at her. She snarled in frustration at the man.

“This isn’t right,” the woman with him said.  

“Potter can make the choice.” The silver haired man had his lips pressed into a thin line.

Hermione wanted to be outside, back in the forest. It smelled bad here. Like decay.

Eventually they left her, and without the draw of their blood, she stopped fighting. She paced, around and around.  

Hermione heard the woman before she saw her. There was a rhythmic tap of wood on the stone floor as a frail girl approached the bars.

Hermione cocked her head to the side and stared at the woman. She smelled wrong, like her blood was tainted.

The woman smiled at her.

“I don’t smell good to you. Do I?”

With a wave of her wand, a bottle of blood flew into the woman’s hands.

“Drink up.” She tossed the vial into her cell, and Hermione drank, unaware that it was dosed with sedative.

Chapter Text

Astoria

Astoria knew the price of marrying a monster hunter. More nights than she’d like, Pansy was pulled away to some attack. She was developing a hatred of that alarm cuff. Today though, Astoria was peeved that the all-call cleared more than two hours ago and Pansy was not back yet.

Too tender-hearted and unreliable because of her illness, Astoria did the administrative duties for Draco’s squad. She communicated with the Ministry about the group’s kills and preventative measure and did damage control when someone lost their temper and caused trouble. Most of the time Pansy was gone, the financial books kept Astoria from worrying too much. Most of the time.  

The wedding ring around Astoria’s finger glowed. Astoria ran her finger over the band and Pansy’s voice came through.

“Taking longer than I thought. At Malfoy Manor. Don’t wait up for me.”

There was no reason for Pansy to be at Malfoy Manor. Astoria assessed the state of her body, trying to decide whether she was strong enough to get out of bed. She would need her cane but she felt well enough to venture to the Manor.

Astoria flooed into the Malfoy Manor fireplace, and went to the kitchen, where Pansy and Draco were known to indulge in food after a fight. No one was anywhere to be found.

Beezie was an older elf, in the Black family for a long time, and was only getting crankier with age. Narcissa was the only person that she respected. Everyone else was a bother.

“Where’s Draco and Pansy?” Astoria asked.

“The dungeons.” The elf seemed annoyed to be conversing with her at all. Astoria’s blood ran cold. She found the two whispering in the stairwell. They heard her approaching by the sound of her cane on the stone.

Draco gave her a curt nod in greeting. Silent Draco was a bad sign.  

Pansy gave her a tired smile. She was covered in filth, and supremely irritated. “I’d hoped you’d be sleeping, or at least resting.”  

“Couldn’t.”

The sound of rattling bars carried down the hallway.

Pany launched into an explanation of the night, including the curious person that they’d found turned. Draco looked distressed, his face falling further with each detail.

“It’s temporary if she doesn’t settle down,” Pansy said.

“We can’t get close to her without freaking out,” Draco clarified. “She’s calmed down quite a bit.”

“But she’s contained?” Astoria asked.

“Enough. We can’t perform any lasting magic on her but we reenforced the dungeon,” Draco said.

“I don’t trust it.” Pansy looked murderous. Astoria squeezed her shoulder to reassure her.  

“At least it will slow her down until we can immobilize her.” Something was off about Draco. Astoria’s eyes met Pansy’s. She’d noticed it too.

“This seems highly unethical,” Astoria said.

“One night isn’t going to make a bad situation worse,” Draco insisted. “Vampires get all lazy after they’ve eaten. We were hoping to feed her to calm her, but every time we get close to her, she loses all interested in the animal blood. She’s rather eat us.”

Blood. What a funny connection that Astoria had with these creatures.

“I wonder if she’d try to get at me,” Astoria said.

“Don’t be stupid. Tori,” Pansy said.

“I’m sure you’ll stupefy her before she could do anything,” Astoria said.

“If your stupid choices get my wife hurt, I will set the vampire on you myself,” Pansy said.

Interacting with the vampire was scarier in practice than in theory. Astoria raised her wand. She was a talented witch; she could probably take a down a vamp. Or at least she could slow one down. Pansy was just out of sight and would strike Hermione down before she got close. That made Astoria feel a little bit braver.   

Nothing could have prepared Astoria for the sight of Granger in this state. Hermione looked like she’d crawled out of the pits of hell, covered in blood and dirt as she was. Hermione’s usual brown eyes were black as night. When the vampire realized that Astoria was in the hallway, she stopped pacing and sniffed the air.  

But Hermione made no move to lunge. The vampire only looked at her with empty eyes, though calm ones. The predatory gaze was enough to send chills down the spine of the most seasoned monster hunter. But the vampire eventually wrinkled her nose, like Astoria smelled rotten. Astoria almost at that. At least her blood curse was good for some things.

“I don’t smell good to you. Do I?” The vampire merely stared back at her.

Astoria held out the bottle of blood, like a gesture of friendship. She’d talked to Hermione one time, at Neville’s birthday party. At Hogwarts, the worst outs of her illness forced Astoria to spend countless hours in the medical wing, as did Neville. He was always there for one accident or another. They still had weekly tea.

Because Hermione was friend of a friend, Astoria knew a lot about her. She’d taken time off to go to muggle university and was excited to come back to the wizarding world. She had a muggle boyfriend who no one liked because of his pompousness. And she was excited to be back and start her life in the wizarding world. Astoria couldn’t help but care about the girl and seeing her felt like a loss.

For a brief moment, Astoria wondered if the glass bottle was the best choice, but the vampire took the bottle gently and drank as if she was starving. Astoria was struck by how similar the movements were to when Hermione was human.  

“Do you remember me at all?” Astoria asked. She kept her voice soft and melodical, like she was talking to a spooked horse. In response, the vampire paced, though it was slower than before. It worked.

Draco looked relieved when Astoria left the vampire much calmer than she’d found her. He was sitting on the ground, exhausted at this time of night.  

“Thank you for buying us time,” Draco said.

“She’s still hungry,” Astoria said.

“That was the last of the blood I had on hand. Crabbe is off killing something for her.”

“Why do you have blood on hand?” Pansy asked.

“Potion ingredients. I’m not a freak,” Draco said.

Astoria lowered herself slowly, testing her strength as she went. Draco stuck his hand out and to help steady her. She was grateful that Draco had a way of offering support during the bad times that didn’t make her feel like she was a bother. She was going to pay for this tomorrow.

“You think there’s hope for her. Don’t you?” Astoria said.

“I bought her time. That’s all.” She let the non-answer go.  

They turned their heads to the telltale sounds of someone flooing into the front hall.

“Potter,” Draco said.

Chapter Text

Draco

Everyone was acting like Draco was mad. He certainly felt mad. Only a mad wizard would keep a vampire in their house. Had he not given that assessment not two days earlier?

When he went to put a stake through Granger’s heart, he felt in his bones that it was wrong. There was no logic or reason he could apply to what he was feeling but he was so tired of killing. That if there was a small chance that people could come back from this, that he wouldn’t snuff it out. And Granger of all people deserved a chance.  

And instead of making the merciful choice, he was endangering the people he cared most about in this world. For a chance. For a damn fairytale. It had to be madness.

Potter looked like he was fresh from auror duty, still wearing his red uniform. Draco gave him a warning before they entered the dungeons. Draco remembered that Potter often lashed when out when he was stressed, and a vampire would feed off that energy. If Draco had any chance of keeping his unwanted guest calm, he had to keep Potter calm.

“I know she’s your best friend, but she can’t control herself. Keep your head about you.”

Potter’s eyes glazed over with a stark understanding. When Potter saw his friend, he did nothing to hide his grief. It covered him like a veil.

If there was anything hopeful here, Draco was secretly pleased that they could get close to the bars without Granger throwing herself at them. The crushed unicorn horn was doing its job and sedating her.

He didn’t have any supplies for that to be a permanent solution. Powerful magic had to be counteracted with powerful magic. That meant that anything Draco could think of to subdue her was expensive, rare or both.

Oddly enough, the vampire didn’t seem bothered by Harry; she looked at him with a curious expression. Perhaps Granger remembered a bit about herself, even now.

No. Draco pushed that train of thought away. He couldn’t afford to get sentimental enough to let his guard down. Every decision had to be perfect to keep everyone safe.

“Do you know how the attack happened?” Potter asked. He was taking in the situation better than Draco thought he would. Devastated, certainly, but keeping his head about him.

“None of it makes sense. There hadn’t been any sightings recently and it was unusual how we found her. Vampires tend to subsist on animal blood in the forest. Occasionally, we find them in rural towns but not London.”

“You think there was foul play?”

“I don’t have another explanation for how she got into such a populated place without being detected.”

Potter didn’t seem surprised by that.

“She talked to you about her research?”

Draco struggled against the binding contract. Yes. Just say yes. Potter knew, it wasn’t new information. But he couldn’t.  

“No one realized she was missing?” Draco asked.

Potter furrowed his brow, eyes narrowing slightly at the misdirection, but he didn’t push about it. “She was supposed to be at her boyfriend’s.”

“Her boyfriend never reported her missing?”

“He’s a muggle. She was waiting to see if things got serious to tell him about us.” Draco nodded.  

The vampire watched them, never blinking.

“Would you be able to hold her for a few more days?”

“Why should I take that risk?” Though Draco would have made the same choice, it was nice to have Potter take the responsibility for it. No one wanted to step on Potter’s toes.

“Hermione was working on finding a cure, but I think that you know that already.”

Potter sounded almost hopeful about the situation. He had faith that Hermione could pull off her own cure from the other side. Maybe madness was catching.

“I think she’d want us to take the opportunity that we’ve been given, even if it’s a cruel one. And I think she’d want us to try to help her.”

“What’s the plan?”

“We’ll see what we can find in her research and go from there.”

“Do you need help with that?”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

Potter seemed almost as mad as Draco. Maybe hope under these circumstances was madness.

Granger slammed against the bars, making both Potter and Draco jump back. Apparently, the sedative didn’t last long.

Pansy

One of Pansy’s favorite past times raiding the Malfoy Manor. Narcissa kept the pantry stocked with only the best foods and there was no shortage of snooping to be done. Since Draco put her on vampire babysitting duty with Goyle, Pansy figured she deserved some of his good chocolates. He thought he found a sneaky hiding spot, but after sticking Goyle with the first shift, Pansy found them easily enough. Pansy carried her score to the parlor, grabbing a pepper-up potion on the way.

Tori was sitting on the sofa, dark circles under her eyes. She was coming out of a bad spell, and Pansy hated that this impossible task was keeping her from getting rest. And no doubt Tori was already seeing this as her responsibility to take on.

Pansy downed her pepper-up potion and chased it with a sea-salt truffle.

“It is shocking that you can eat after what we just witnessed.” They’d fed Granger a deer’s worth of blood that Goyle caught, and she was not neat about it. But Pansy had developed a strong stomach, she doubted much could roil her stomach.  

“You don’t have to stay up with me,” Pansy said.  

“But what if we need to feed Granger again?” We. Damn it. She was emotionally invested.

Pansy knew there was no use fighting Tori when she wanted to do something, nor did she want to. Too many people saw Tori’s illness as weakness and tried to take her agency away from her. She never wanted to do that, but she would deny her body what it needed and make things worse for herself.

“Go to sleep. We’ll have to figure out how to feed her. But if it gets bad enough, I’ll wake you up.”

Tori gave her a tired smile and went up to the room that Narcissa always had ready to them.

To keep herself awake, Pansy snooped. Narcissa had gotten a delivery of new clothes waiting for her in the entry way for whenever she could come back. Currently she was in France, with instructions not to come home. Pansy sifted through the new robes, all of them the height of fashion and impeccably detailed. She would expect nothing less from Narcissa.

When looking through Narcissa’s new clothes got old, Pansy entertained herself by snooping through Draco’s potions lab. He had left something under statis. She sniffed each ingredient, trying to figure out what dear old Draco was making, but Pansy’s cuff went off before she could get far. Goyle was calling her.

Granger had managed to break through the bars. They were snapped, like the solid metal was no stronger than a bird bone.

Goyle had taken her down with a petrificus totalis before she got far.

It turned out that a fed vampire was a strong vampire. That wasn’t good.

Goyle carried Granger’s body into the neighboring cell. She was so small compared to him, but he carried her gingerly, eyes never moving away from her.  

Pansy and Goyle took turns fortifying the bars with spell after spell, hoping it would be enough. All the while, Granger watched them, waiting for what Pansy didn’t know.

Goyle’s cuff went off. “Blaise.”

“Do not tell him about this,” Pansy threatened. “As far as he knows, we killed her, we cleaned everything up.” Goyle nodded.

“I can’t leave you alone.”

“I’ll figure it out. Tell him nothing.” Goyle flashed a mischievous smile. “Goyle.”

“He’ll get nothing.”

“He’s asking you because he knows something went wrong and you’re the weakest link.” Goyle had a look of realization on his face like that hadn’t occurred to him. God help them all.

“I won’t say anything.” Pansy felt comfortable that he said that more earnestly. And then he apparated away.

Pansy turned her attention to the vampire. The vampire that was barely contained. The vampire that would love to sink her teeth into Pansy’s neck. Maybe she should just end it now, make it easier for everyone. For one heartbeat she considered it, but she wouldn’t betray Draco like that. He never did anything without purpose, to an annoying level. There had to be a reason this was happening.  

Pansy watched the vampire pace around new cell, and occasionally pick at her hair. It was a shame that no one had thought to clean her yet.

“The filth would bother me too,” Pansy said. She cast a scourgify to clean the blood, though the debris remained trapped in her rat’s nest of a hair. The vampire kept picking at that.  

Pansy had all night alone with the creature, she might as well experiment. Maybe it would keep the vampire distracted enough not to eat her.

“Accio hairbrush.”

Pansy levitated the hairbrush through the bars, and the vampire started using it, running the brush through dirty hair. It looked slightly unnatural, like she was mimicking the movements of a person. But it kept her occupied. Perhaps the vampire was bored.

“Accio Hogwarts a History.”

That book kept the vampire entertained for a long time. One by one Hermione ripped the pages out of the binding. Pansy almost chuckled at how horrified Granger would be if she saw herself now. When that got old, Pansy got the next thing and the next.

“Accio parchment. Accio quill.”

Dutifully, the vampire started drawing. Pansy sidled up to the bars, getting a better view of the vampire’s doodles. They weren’t good, but it was undeniably a picture. Those were trees and that was the sky. Abstract ones. Some experts they were, it seemed the monster hunters didn’t know the first thing about vampires.  

When the vampire grew bored, she looked up at Pansy, clearly waiting for the next present, and Pansy conjured it.

Chapter Text

Draco

Draco followed Potter into Granger’s flat and was dismayed to see that it was just as bad as her office. He was overwhelmed by the mess. There was something on every surface of the apartment. Clothes, and books and bits of parchment.  

But the flat did have a view to envy. Draco took one moment to appreciate it. The flat was situated over a pub in Diagon Alley. From Hermione’s front window you could see clear down the street.

Emerging from the clutter, a giant brown cat sauntered up to Draco. It was perhaps the fluffiest cat that Draco had ever seen.

“Hello furball,” Draco crooned as he crouched down and held out a knuckle. The cat rubbed his face against Draco’s hand, and he scratched it under the chin.

As chaotic as the apartment was, Potter knew his way around. It was easy enough to find Hermione’s current work. It was contained in a stack of muggle spiral bound notebooks. None of the notes made sense. They were clearly the bits of inspiration she had, written down before they could be forgotten. The entries were short and incongruous. The longest entries were math calculations as she puzzled out a potion formula.   

Potter took everything in like the seasoned auror that he was. Him and Draco had

Malfoy and Potter flipped through notebook after notebook. It was remarkable how one witch could have so many thoughts. Tweaks to potion’s formulas, work to-dos, philosophical musings. She wrote down her favorite quotes from books.

One in particular caught Draco’s eye “There is love in me the likes of which I’ve never seen. There is rage in me the likes of which should never escape.” Attributed to Shelley.  

There wasn’t any indication of any work that Granger had been studying vampires, which was strange. Perhaps she was in the early stages of that research or perhaps her notes were coded. Draco looked for patterns or one word that was over the others.

Potter was the most focused that Draco had ever seen him, sifting through the documents. They worked together a fair amount. Draco volunteered when the aurors needed magical creature assistance, and he was fairly certain the new aurors got put on those cases. They had developed a working relationship, that at times, felt friendly.

Draco wasn’t sure where they stood now?  Would Potter feel grateful for what he’d done or end up hating him for it when it inevitably went bad?

Potter looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Are you going to tell anyone what happened to Granger?” Draco said.

“Not yet,” Potter said. “I don’t want anything in the press right now, while she’s… while she’s still halfway to the grave.”

“Then what’s the story?”

“It’s common knowledge that she’s been experimenting. I think that it would be believable if I said that there was some kind of accident.”

Draco gave a grunt of approval.  

“Surprised that I came up with a good plan?” Potter mused.

“To be frank, yes.”

“You’ve heard all of our antics at Hogwarts.”

“Exactly. I’ve heard of them. You’ve only heard of some of mine.” Potter rolled his eyes. “Is there anyone that you’ll tell the truth? So that I’m aware.”

“I already called Ginny and Ron. They’re abroad but they’ll want to see her. Neville should know too.”  Draco wasn’t thrilled about the parade of people coming through the manor.

They read until light streamed through the windows, and the cat started meowing for food.

“Did you find anything useful?” Potter asked.

“Nothing.” It was all scribbles. Thoughts without a conclusion.  

“We haven’t checked her laptop yet,” Potter said.

An electronic box. What a nightmare.

Before Potter could give further instruction, Potter’s auror badge went off.

Potter let out a frustrated noise. “I have to go.”

“I don’t know how to use that thing,” Draco said.

“Just wait for me. I’ll be back soon enough.” Potter aperated away. He could be gone all day, maybe multiple days. Draco didn’t have the patience nor the time to wait.

The laptop would not work in Hermione’s flat; there was too much magic. Muggle London was close enough. He took the box and found his way to muggle London. People gave him odd looks when they noticed him holding the thing out in front of him like it would bite.

He bit his lip, holding back a sound of frustration. He didn’t have the time for this.

At this time in the morning, there were muggles getting their morning coffee and a few working in coffee shops. And a few working at the tables on computers.

Draco sat at the coffee shop and took out the laptop. He didn’t know much but he knew that electronics could be off or on.

He waited until someone sat down and watched them as they took out their laptop and pressed one of the buttons. Draco pressed every single button on the device, and nothing happened.

The man next to him took notice.

“Computer trouble?” the man asked.  

“The thing won’t turn on.”

“May I?” The man asked.

Draco gestured at the laptop to give him permission to touch it. The stranger tapped a few buttons and it didn’t start for him either.

“Is the battery charged?” the man asked.

Draco knew what a battery was; those small round tubes. But he could not wrap his head around what it would have to do with a laptop.

“I don’t have any triple As handy.”

The stranger laughed at him.

“I think we have the same one.” He pulled a cord from his own computer and put it into Draco’s.

When the stranger tapped the button the next time, the screen turned on.

“Thank you,” Draco said.

“Can I buy you a coffee?” the man asked.

“No thank you.” Did Draco miss some kind of muggle courtship behavior?

“Come on. You obviously pretended not to know how to turn on a computer to flirt with me.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

The stranger looked horribly confused, and took his cord back, which meant that Draco was back at square one, except now he knew what he needed.

He found the same cord in Granger’s flat and went back to the coffee shop. Heart pounding as he turned on the laptop again.

Once Malfoy found out how to navigate the thing, Malfoy found a treasure trove of information. There were files upon files of information.

Malfoy was looking at decade’s worth of data on vampire attacks. The breadth of it was astounding. The amount of time that she would have put into this document was humbling. He’d certainly never cared about anything this much. It was borderline obsessive.

Granger had created a theoretical process to lessen the effects of vampirism based on statistics and conjecture alone. But she didn’t have any means to test it.

Malfoy wondered if it wasn’t time to put some of the research to the test.

Chapter Text

Draco  

Potter walked into the coffee shop when Draco was one more click away from throwing the electronic box through the glass window. If he scrolled to the top of the electronic document one more time accidentally, he would lose it.   

Potter smirked at him. “You know that you can print that out?”   

The next thing that Draco knew he was watching paper shoot out of a machine. He was fascinated by the process.   

Potter couldn’t even wait until the machine was done. His eyes shined as he skimmed through Granger’s work. “It’s genius.”   

It’s genius if it works, Draco thought, but he didn’t dare say that out loud. Draco didn’t like that Potter had already decided that it worked before trying it. Sure, it was a remarkable combination of spell work and potions, but Draco was holding judgement until he saw results.   

The ingredients were as theoretical as the formulas. Granger put no thought into how difficult it would be to get the ingredients. Draco had no idea where to get a griffin claw or a kelpie tail fin scale without special ordering them.    

It felt cruel to have all this information and not be able to do anything about it. Draco had acted foolishly in a moment of panic, sure, but the heat of the moment had long worn off and the reality of what was in his home was hitting him.     

“It’s going to take forever to brew this,” Draco said. “And as much as I’d like to say that I could hold her that long, I might not be able to.”  

“What can I do to help?” Potter asked.   

“One person volunteering is not going to do anything. It’s going to take an entire team of people to keep watch over her at all times.”  

“Then we’ll ask everyone.” Draco still wasn’t convinced but Potter looked so damn hopeful about the possibility that this could work. “If you can hold her until this afternoon, we’ll lay everything out on the table and we’ll make a choice then. You bring your team, and the Weasleys will be back, and we’ll talk.”   

“We can talk about it,” Draco agreed.  

Draco aperated into his dungeons to find a much calmer scene than expected. Hermione’s cell looked like a toddler’s toy chest exploded in there.   

The vampire was lying on her side on the stone surrounded by a perimeter of floating candles.    

“It took four deer, but she finally went into this stupor,” Pansy said.   

“And the candles?”  

“She hates fire. Won’t go near it.” Draco nodded. “You should sleep. You look like shit.”   

Draco sneered at her. “We’re meeting with every later, to discuss options.”   

He handed Pansy a copy of Granger’s work and then went to find somewhere comfortable to take a nap.  

Astoria  

Draco wanted to hold the meeting in the dining room but Astoria vetoed that. It would have dragged an already dire situation furthur down. It felt inappropriate to hold a meeting in there with it’s histroy.  

Instead, they were packed into the inappropriately sized parlor. All of the hunters were there, except Greg who was tasked with guard duty. They all knew that he would do whatever Draco wanted anyway. Millie’s expression oscillated between discomfort and anger. Theo was treating the event like a school reunion until Pansy made him relax.   

The only Gryffindor in the room was Neville as he couldn’t bear to see Hermione. Astoria tried her best to comfort him, and he was handling the situation as well as could be expected.  

Theo passed the time by pouring everyone a scotch.  

“Really?” Pansy said.   

“Scotch is a great thinking alcohol,” Theo said. “For serious matters.” His mirth did little to lighten the mood, though no one refused a glass when it was offered to them.  

The rest of the group walked in silently from their trip to the dungeons. The Weasley’s looked rather dazed from their macabre field trip. Ron didn’t seem mentally present, judging by his far off stare. Ginny and Harry didn’t look much better. Astoria didn’t miss the look that passed between them. They’d recently broken up, but it didn’t stop Harry from squeezing Ginny’s shoulder, after hesitating to see if it was OK.  

Draco had a stoic expression on his face.  

No one spoke at first, waiting for someone else to break the silence. Draco and Harry locked eyes, and Harry took it as his cue to start the meeting.  

“We brought everyone here because we needed input on the situation.” Harry was clearly choosing his words carefully, but backing it up with the natural bravado that he had. “We think that if we can keep Hermione safely contained, we stand to learn an immense about of information about vampires.”   

It was remarkable how a room of such opinionated people had nothing to say. Everyone’s eyes shifted around the room, trying to gauge the other's reactions. Possibly to see if anyone else thought Harry was spewing madness. Because the answer was obvious, wasn’t it? Hell no.   

Pansy spoke first. “I’m sorry but what’s the point? What do you expect to learn?”  

Harry, to his credit, did not flinch at Pansy's candor. "Hermione thought that we could cure vampirism. That it was a blood born illness that could be isolated within the blood and cleansed. Obviously, the implications of a cure like that are enormous.”  

You could feel everyone in the room stop breathing.    

“It sounds like a fairytale,” Astoria said. But the dream was enticing. Pansy’s eyes locked with hers, her brow furrowing, like she could hear Astoria’s thoughts.  

“It’s not worth it,” Millie said.  

The consensus around the now very loud room was the same. There was no point, and it was far too dangerous.  

Millie was the loudest opponent, followed by Pansy. Theo watched the whole thing with interest. Astoria had the sneaking suspicion that he’d be willing to take the risk, thrill seeker that he was.  

Astoria didn’t know how she felt. She wanted to believe that it was possible; that people who were bitten could come back. But she agreed with Pansy; it couldn’t be done.  

Through the barrage of negative opinions, Harry’s face fell further and further. You could practically see his heart breaking with each statement. Perhaps the thought that he could convince the Slytherins with one statement of hope was a product of his naive hope.  

Draco made a strangled noise out of his mouth and then a frustrated one. He conjured a stack of papers and started handing out piles of paper to everyone. Not parchment, muggle paper with printer ink.  

Granger had written pages and pages of work on vampires. Research and theories and experiments. Someone at the Ministry had even allowed her access to staked vampires for blood testing. And that was just from skimming it.  

The room broke into side conversations as this information settled over everyone. Some spark of hope spurned on by confidence in Hermione’s intelligence, and slowly, slowly, the opinion in the room turned.  

“Let’s talk like we could actually do this, if we could do this, what would the practical challenges be?” Harry said.  

The questions flew after that became wilder and wilder, until everything was put on the table.  

From Ron “Do we think that this is illegal?”  

Followed by Theo’s “I wouldn’t care if it was,”  

“How much time is it going to take to get food for her and is it possible to keep a vampire alive without them killing anything?” Ginny asked.  

But the conversation always circled back to the undeniable peril that awaited wizards who made foolish choices, even in the name of hope. Astoria wasn’t convinced.  

“We all know that there are risks,” Draco said, bringing the room back to focus, “But I think that surviving nearly a day without a death is a good sign.”  

“Death isn’t the worst thing that could happen. I don’t think you’re thinking dark enough.” Millie said. “We could end up like her. We could all my vampires by the end of this. I’m not gambling my life on the chance that we find a cure.”  

“Hermione devoted her life to helping others, the least we can do is help her,” Ginny said.  

There were tentative nods around the room.  

“Our safety would come first, every time. If we need to stake her, then we do,” Ron choked on his words, but they all felt the weight of them coming from the most loyal of them all.  

“And it’s not all or nothing,” Theo said. He directed everyone to a series of experiments that Hermione would have done if given the time with a live vampire. If there wasn’t a cure, they could at least learn something. Hadn’t they already learned something in the short time they’d had with her?  

One by one the Gryffindors said that they would do it.  

“You're not serious?” Pansy asked. She sounded mean, and it was, but Astoria knew that it came from a place of fear. Pansy was a protective person, and she of all of them would be worried sick until was over, though she’d rather die than say it.  

“Why not?” Theo said. "If we can't handle one vampire, what kind of hunters are we?” He smiled with the smile that was often followed by rash decision making.  

“It might be good to try to fix the problem rather than treating the symptom for once,” Draco said.  

There was back and forth, as voices got heated and tempers flared. Disbelief from both sides.  

It was Draco’s certainty that convinced Astoria in the end. He was a thrill seeker, but he wasn’t reckless. He took calculated risks, and he seemed confident about this. Confident, but practical.  

In the chaos, Neville was the first one to speak, and everyone listened. “She was more ruthless than anyone. We all know what she would want to do.”   

That seemed to settle the matter. No one could argue against that.  

Pansy was still unconvinced.  

“Obviously, we wouldn’t force anyone to do this if they didn’t want to,” Draco said.  

“It might have deeper implications than only vampirism. What about the other blood curses?” Neville said, sparing a glance at Astoria.   

“Potentially,” Draco said.   

“Then I’m in,” Pansy said.  

And with Pansy decided, there was no more push back. Millie realized that she had lost. This was really happening. Draco paused to see if everyone was truly committed. Millie left, but everyone else stayed.  

“We go in pairs. One Gryffindor, one hunter at all times,” Draco said. “In case there’s an all call or other emergency.”  

Astoria supposed she should have felt dread, but she was surprised to find that she was excited. The more they talked, the more this crazy plan seemed possible.  

“I hate that it has to be her,” Ginny said. And with that, the conversation went back to where it should have been. A sobering reminder that Hermione’s fate had the touch of irony that only life could provide.  

Chapter Text

Draco

Draco didn’t know whether to be relieved by the meeting or to be sick. On one hand, he felt validated in his reckless decision. But the group agreed to go forward with this plan, there was no other word for it than dangerous. Draco wasn’t blinded by the team cheer. If this failed, he was to blame. So, he had to do everything in his power to keep everyone safe.

Draco was so in his own head that he didn’t realize that the male Weasel had followed him out of the parlor. Of all of Hermione’s friends, Ron seemed the most confused. Harry was dealing with the loss by throwing himself headfirst into this venture; Neville had clearly been crying out his feelings. Ron seemed like he needed someone to get angry at, and how convenient that Draco was right there.  

In the hallway, Ron puffed himself to his full height, no doubt attempting to look intimidating. Draco was unimpressed. Some nerve the Weasel had to corner him in his own house.

“Is there something else you wanted to talk about?” Draco asked, as calm as he could be.

Unlike Potter, the Weasel had never warmed up to him no matter how many times they worked together. It was like Ron’s perpetual naivete brought out Draco’s natural petulance.

“I only need a minute of your time,” Ron said.

“Is it going to be quick? I’m rather tired of talking at the moment.” Draco really didn’t mean to be so snide, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I only want to know why you did it.” A harmless enough statement on its own but it sounded rather accusatory, and Draco had neither the energy nor the patience to deal with that.

“Can you be more specific on what ‘it’ is?”

“Why didn’t you stake her?” Draco got the impression that Ron was used to people hanging on his every word. The roles had reversed since they were kids, now Ron was the one with the power.

“I’d think that you’d be happy that she got a second chance.”

“Happy is not the right word but I do thank you for that.” It seemed sincere but Draco had to hold back a sneer from the forced gratitude. “I don’t mean to act ungrateful. Only that I hope there isn’t some other motive behind what’s happening here.”

Draco turned on his sickly-sweet voice, the one that he often used at social functions he didn’t want to attend. “Forgive me, but it sounds like you’re questioning my good intentions when by all accounts I have done nothing but try to wring some good out of a horrible situation.”

“That’s exactly it. You’re risking everything and for what? The kindness of your heart?”

“I can assure you. I have no ulterior motive other than what I’ve said.” Ron clearly was not satisfied with the answer. 

“She might be gone but she used to be my best friend. Nothing about my responsibility to her has changed.”

“Noted.”

Ron seemed almost disappointed. Perhaps Ron wanted a fight. Draco wasn’t going to give it to him. His mind was whirling with all of the details that they hadn’t talked about and all of the ways that this could go wrong. He added the Weasel to that list.

Astoria

Taking Astoria’s nighttime medicinal potion took about the same time as Pansy’s skincare routine. There was something comforting about standing by the twin sinks with her wife at end the day. Her wife. Pansy was her wife. It was new enough that Astoria still was thrilled by the idea.

Their room in the Malfoy Manor was like their second home. They kept a small wardrobe of clothes in the closet.

It was the room that Astoria would stay in sometimes during her doomed courtship with Draco. Her family had decided that they would marry, much to Astoria’s dismay. They’d never accepted her sexuality. Astoria went into the situation thinking that Draco would also want out of it and hoping that between the both of them it would be easier to break the engagement. She was surprised to find he was willing to give it a try.

For a while, Astoria and Draco kept up appearances for their parents but when Draco invited her to drinks and Pansy was there, it was over. The pair hadn’t been separated since. Everything else in Astoria’s life clicked into place or got left behind. They were luckily that Draco was one of the things that stayed.

Astoria sighed with relief as she slipped into the silk sheets. Every part of her ached.

“You shouldn’t have pushed yourself,” Pansy said, messaging her shoulders.

“I couldn’t miss the excitement. How many times does one adopt a vampire?”

Pansy rubbed up against her, being careful not to jostle Astoria too much.

What Pansy had said earlier had been bothering Astoria. It worried her that Pansy would have false hope for a cure that would never come.  

“Pansy.” Astoria took a deep breath. “About earlier. I know that you’re hopeful that there’s some kind of cure out there for me, but I don’t want to waste my time chasing it.”

“Then let me worry about it.” Pansy was flippant about it. It was both Astoria’s favorite thing about Pansy and the most annoying thing. Pansy talked about the Greengrass curse like it was a stain on her favorite dress; annoying but not life ending. It made Astoria nervous that she wasn’t taking it seriously. Astoria could have five more years or ten or twenty, but the curse would ware down her body eventually.

“You’re purposely missing my point.”

“Forgive me for trying to get more time with my wife.” In a protective move, Pansy gently pulled Astoria close.  

“They only said that it might have other implications to bate you into agreeing. There’s no correlation between vampirism and my curse.”

“That we know of.”

“Last time I checked I don’t feed off of people.” Astoria gave Pansy a playful bite. Pansy squealed, and pouted when she realized she couldn’t retaliate.

“Speaking of things that worry me. You can’t be the one that feeds the vampire every time. It’s too much for you.” Note taken, serious conversation over if it even had ever started.  

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow. When I can think straight.”

“Thank you.”

Astoria pulled Pansy close and kissed her softly. Pansy’s response was anything but soft. Pansy kissed her like she wanted more. But if seeing Pansy in her pink silk nightie didn’t awaken any latent sexual urges in Astoria nothing would.

Astoria kissed Pansy on the neck, right below the ear. Pansy tipped her head back and let out a soft noise of pleasure.

It seems like I’ve been neglecting my wife.” Astoria’s voice was soft and raspy. “

Pansy nibbled on her ear. “Not purposely.”

Astoria wished that she had any energy to spare, but she just didn’t. And that was the last thing that she wanted; her illness depriving Pansy.

“It’s not like you need me to get off.”  

Pansy’s eyes never left hers. “It’s…”

“Don’t you dare say it’s okay.” Astoria whispered in Pansy’s ear. “Please.”

There was nothing Astoria loved better than making her confident wife shy.

Pansy complied for Astoria’s request, and ran her hand down her stomach, disappearing between her legs.

Astoria put her hand on the nape of Pansy’s neck, rubbing a thumb gently over her skin, participating how she could.  

Pansy buried her head in Astoria’s side, letting out soft sounds of pleasure.

“So beautiful,” Astoria whispered into Pansy’s hair.

When it was over, Pansy tensed up. Touching herself in front of her wife was a vulnerable move for her, the one who couldn’t handle not being in charge. Astoria lazily kissed her until she relaxed. They were asleep the moment they closed their eyes.

Chapter Text

Hermione

The inevitable side effect of learning a lot about a subject was that you found gaps in the current knowledge. There was always a scientific frontier, and the magical world had so many of them.

In her spare time at muggle uni, Hermione read every philosophy book on magic that she could get a hold of. She was curious why she became a witch and why her magic chose her, if indeed it was a choice at all. Maybe there were latent strains of magic in her blood. Maybe she’d done something to attract it.

This wasn’t a new question. Wizard philosophers debated for eons what the essence of magic was. Hermione understood it to be the catalyst of change. It was the ability to affect the world around you. But the debate flew wide open when you considered dark magic.

For experimental purposes, Hermione cast a spell using dark magic. Specifically, she cast a decay spell on her houseplant. It withered in front of her eyes. Hermione had not accounted for the way that she would feel. Powerful and out of control at once.

Hermione’s light magic called to her magic like a lover, but with dark magic she was merely a conduit. No more than a means to end. With one small spell, she sensed a bottomless pit of power that she could use, if only she opened the gates. If only she allowed herself to be used by it.

The magic that she felt as a vampire, was neither light nor dark.

It felt wild and inhuman. Vast as the ocean and as powerful as a river current. It flooded her very being, overwhelmed her mind. It was instinct in its purest form.  And it did not like the magic that was in Malfoy Manor; the magic that seeped from its stone.

The room burned, grating against Hermione like a stone mortar to its pestle. Her instincts told her to get away, at any cost.  

In frustration and pain, she would throw herself into the wall, and the bars. Turning the inside turmoil out. She wanted out. Out of the dungeon, out of her head. She’d do anything for relief.

Fire didn’t stop her anymore. She’d gladly burn herself if it meant being free.

Sometimes, she’d escape the cell. She’d make it as far as the hallway, but they caught her and dragged her back every time.

The desperation to escape was taking its toll on her body. Her arms and legs were spotted with fire burns in various stages of healing, making her skin mottled and discolored.  

The only solace she found was in the blood they fed her. It calmed her to drink. Even though it was cold and stale. They fed her constantly to keep her docile, but she burned through the animal blood almost as soon as she drank it. Sometimes when she drank, Hermione’s mind returned to itself. When the beast was satiated, Hermione returned to herself. Only, she was never satiated. As soon as relief came, it left.

It was especially torturous when she could smell fresh blood at all times. There were always people watching her she could smell them. Their blood called to her.

In Hermione’s brief moments of lucidity, she wanted to tell her friends that she was still there. That she loved them. But as soon as she emerged from the weight of the magic, she was pulled under again.

Hermione’s conscious fought itself, and it was so easy to give into the monster. And more than anything the monster wanted to sink her fangs into the watcher’s necks and drain them dry.

Draco

Watching a vampire turned out to be strikingly similar to watching a toddler. If she was fed, she was calm. If she was hungry, she found creative ways to make life hell. It was amazing the amount of blood that she could drink in a day. The group was constantly hunting to feed her. There were some voiced concerns that one vampire would rid the country of deer completely. Her hunger was insatiable.

They were working themselves to death to watch her, and all of their efforts to make her happy seemed to be in vain.

It was clear to everyone that this wasn’t working out. Hermione wore the evidence of their incompetence on her skin. Draco would look at her scars and feel immense guilt that he had instigated this.

If she was hungry, she threw herself at the walls like a crazed animal until she scraped her skin against the stone. Fire stopped her some of the time, but when she was hungry enough, she would walk through it. To their horror, her skin would sometimes catch. Once, Pansy had to put her out with a fire-retardant charm and almost took a bite to the side.

There were too many close calls, too many almost bites. But not one member of the group shied away, even when Granger was at her most violent. And everyone fell into where they were most helpful. But it was becoming clear to everyone that the cost on Hermione was too high.

No one had spoken the words yet, but that crazy hope the group had started with was dwindling. It was only a matter of time before someone brought it up.

It put pressure on them all to brew Granger’s potion.

When Draco wasn’t on guard duty he was pouring of Granger notes, looking for things he could substitute or bits of the potion he could brew ahead of time. He found her notes charming. It was like he could feel her frustration as she worked through problems with the formula. Other pages showed her distracted. She’d write random quotes in the margins. They were charming in an unhinged way.

Draco knew that if anyone could find obscure potion ingredients fast, it was Theo. Every moment that Draco and Theo weren’t on guard, they were visiting shops and talking to connections. None of their efforts felt like enough when you took a step in the dungeon. But   even if she couldn’t make it long enough to test it, there would always be another vampire to experiment on.

It certainly lit a fire under Theo’s often unmotivated ass. Theo could have been top of the class if he applied himself.

“Do you care if the ingredients are acquired through legal means?” Theo asked Draco.

Draco would do a lot to speed things up, he didn’t see why the law should get in his way. “As long as no one catches on to what’s happening.”

“No one is going to see the things I’m buying and think anything of it. They’re too scattered. Too nonsensical for anyone to make sense of even if they saw the list.”

“Good.”

Draco’s cuff lit up. He checked to see if Theo’s was too, but it was only him. Blaise was calling him.

“We should tell him,” Theo said. “He might be more receptive to this madness than you think.”

“Absolutely not,” Draco said, as he apparated to the drop point.

Draco landed in a country hovel, surrounded by sheep pasture.  

Blaise was waiting for him. His leader’s uniform was pristine and freshly polished. Draco found it funny that Blaise cared about appearances now, when he never did before.

“We have a dragon to deal with,” Blaise said.

“Are we sending it to Charlie?”

“We’re putting it down.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. It was unusual to kill a dragon. They were rare and expensive enough that wasting one was frowned upon. But as soon as Draco set eyes on this particular dragon, he knew it was the right call.  

Draco let all the stress of his vampire problem melt away. It felt good to focus on his task, and only his task. In the icy clarity of tracking, he was briefly reminded why he used to like this job.

They followed the trail that the dragon had left on the ground. Broken tree branches and muddy ruts, footprints. It seemed that this dragon refused to fly.

It found a resting place in a hollow. Not quiet out of its teenage years, and it was obvious that it was sick. There was something twisted about its bones. Its legs were bent strangely and stunted. Its wings were painful to look at, misshaped as they were.

“What happened to it?” Draco asked. The poor creature was clearly suffering.  

“Private owner. The usual issues, improper diet, not enough exercise. It escaped this week, and the owner wants us to put it down rather than dealing with it.”

Draco winced. The people that decided keeping dangerous magical beasts in residential areas were a special kind of idiot. Antipodean opaleyes were prized for their looks. The pearly scales drew collector’s attention. Surely as a baby this one was shown off like a rare jewel, the owner thinking that he’d tamed it. Until it grew up.

The life this one had must have been horrible. They were close to a residential area, no place with a creature like this. Never getting to stretch its wings.

Blaise and Draco both cast a net spell, pinning the dragon to the rock. It struggled against the bindings. The cry that shot out of the dragon’s mouth was ear-splitting as the thing realized it was caught.

Draco and Blaise worked like a well-oiled machine. Blaise cast one spell and Draco followed soon after. It made Draco ache for a time that friendship that felt gone.

Draco would have felt better about it if the dragon put up a fight, but instead it lolled over on its side. With a shake of the Earth, the dragon fell.  

Blaise cast a sedative spell strong enough to calm the dragon. Blaise nodded at Draco to make the next move.

Draco approached the creature, whose breathing had slowed to a calm pace. Its eyes were half closed from the sedation spell.

Through slits, the dragon’s large eyes met Draco’s, and he could have sworn that the dragon was telling him to end the misery. Or maybe that was what Draco told himself to feel better.

Draco was efficient in the curse, and the dragon’s head fell to the Earth. He could only hope that it wasn’t in pain.

No one told Draco when he started monster hunting that a lot of what he did would be cleaning up other people’s messes. It bothered him how preventable a staggering number of kills were. But someone needed to protect the innocents from other’s stupidity.

They burned the dragon’s body on a pyre. Normal fire would not hurt a dragon, but they coaxed the flame hotter, until it burned bright blue. A fire that temperature burned everything it touched. Bone, dragon flesh turned to ash.

Blaise kept looking at Draco, like he wanted to say something, but Draco pretended not to notice.

“Do you want to hear my side of what happened?” Blaise finally said.

“I really don’t,” Draco said, and Blaise didn’t push. Even at odds, Draco still liked that stoic quality in Blaise.  

Draco briefly contemplated what Theo had said about Blaise understanding, but looking at Blaise now the suggestion seemed even more ludicrous. Maybe before Blaise would have been willing to bend the rules, but now he was fully under the Ministry’s thumb.

Draco barely had time to shower off the grime of the day, before he was assigned to guard duty.

Harry was Draco’s partner on the shift. He took one look at Draco and asked if he was good to be on guard duty, to which Draco insisted he was. There was no way that he was sleeping, or worse, sitting around doing nothing. Harry excused himself briefly to raid the Manor kitchen. It was bothersome how soon everyone got comfortable helping themselves to the Manor’s food supply, but Draco didn’t stop them. There was no way he was partnering up with a hungry Gryffindor.

Instead of pacing down the hall like he usually did, Draco sat crossed legged on the ground by the bars. Out of reach if the vampire lunged, but close enough to draw attention.

Draco watched, really observed, and what he saw was a creature in distress. Of course, Hermione couldn’t settle, because how could a vampire settle in these conditions?

The vampire in return, stilled, watching him with black eyes. The first lesson of dealing with magical creatures was that they picked up on your energy, and everyone had been panicked. If you were calm, they were calm.  But Draco couldn’t lose sight of the fact that she was looking for an opportunity to bite.

Draco stilled, locking eyes with the creature. He tipped his head, and the vampire tipped her head back. He made a sudden movement, and the vampire lunged, hitting the bars but not at full force. It reminded Draco of playing with a vicious puppy.   

Vampires were wild creatures that were drawn to the woods. They’d left her with little more than stone and themselves for entertainment. Of course she was going mad. She was probably bored. You couldn’t cage a vampire any more than you could tame a dragon.  

“We’ll get you out of here Granger,” Draco crooned. “I’m sorry that I didn’t think of it sooner.”

The vampire watched him with calculating eyes, but she tilted her head at the softness in his voice.

“You trusted me, and I let you down at the first turn. Didn’t I?”

The vampire took one calm step towards him and looked him up and down. Not like food, but rather like she was sizing him up as an equal.

“We’re going to get you into the forest. I promise.”

The vampire came closer still, listening to him talk.

“I’m going to build you the biggest cage I can and you can frolic amongst the trees to your heart’s content.”

The vampire only looked back at him with cold black eyes.

Chapter Text

Pansy

Pansy turned down so many invitations to lunch with her mother. They were easy to refuse when they came by owl. It spoke volumes that her mother couldn’t even be bothered to come to Pansy’s flat to see her. They could aperate for goodness’s sake. But no, her mother would only see her on her terms, in her manor.

When the next invitation to lunch came, Pansy was tempted to go. She felt that she should at least see her mother, now that she was in scheduled danger from a feral creature. Though she wasn’t entirely willing. It did cross her mind to bow out at the last minute. She surprised even herself when she went to the Parkinson Manor.  

The informal dining room off of the kitchen had gone from sage to a yellow since the last time that Pansy visited. Even such a cheery color looked muted on the walls.

Pansy knew that she was pushing her mother’s patience be wearing her uniform, but she refused to be shy about a job she loved.

Her mother did not comment on the outfit, but it was clear from the scrunching of her nose that she didn’t approve. In contrast, her mother wore a sleek black dress, her own dark hair in long wavy curls.

The house elves had prepared a lunch with multiple courses, but Pansy and her mother were more focused on the wine. Both of them poured themselves a generous glass, before sampling the food.

When Pansy felt that she was properly relaxed from the chardonnay, she asked her mother how business was going.  Her mother perked up at the chance to brag about her ventures.

“We’re expecting great things from the medical division this year.” Her mother could have happily chatted about the Parkinson businesses all afternoon, and nearly did.

None of it interested Pansy. She hated how her mother talked about the company like her thriving business was a reflection of her worth. But Amaryllis Parkinson was nothing if not good at becoming emotionally involved.

When Pansy couldn’t take the business talk anymore, she diverted the conversation. They chatted about small things, the new kitchen décor, how Pansy’s flat was coming along, the latest social gossip.  All things Pansy would have found worthy of conversation if her life had gone a different way. Pansy thought that if only they kept to unimportant topics, it would be alright And if Pansy only thought about this moment wither her mother, she could almost pretend that it was like it used to be.

But relationships weren’t a single moment in time. As they chatted Pansy waited for the inevitable ambush or grating opinion from her mother. The salad course turned into the soup course without incident, but in the end her mother ended the fragile peace.

“And your wife?” her mother asked. Her mother didn’t even look up from cutting her slice of chicken.

“She’s well.”

“I do worry about her health.”

Such a simple question bothered Pansy to the core.

“Kind of you to think of her, but I assure you that I worry about her enough for everyone,” Pansy said in her sickly-sweet voice.

“You’re my daughter. Pansy, make no mistake that I care very much about your spouse.”

“Then maybe you’d care to invite her to these lunches,” Pansy suggested.

In response her mother drained the rest of the bottle of wine into her glass.

Pansy didn’t believe that for a moment. Maybe her mother cared about Tori’s reputation or social standing, but her mother did not care about her health nor her well-being. Not in a genuine way. Not enough to take any time out of her day to interact with her.

“Don’t push me. You know that it will take time to accept such a hasty choice.”  

Pansy thought that her mother of all people should have supported her marriage. Goodness knew that her mother was miserable with her own arranged one. She’d never seen someone so happy watching their spouse being taken to Azkaban.

Maybe that was the issue with their relationship now. With Pansy’s father in Azkaban, her mother had nothing to avoid. No one to complain to her daughter about. No need to find excuses to leave the Manor anymore.

Pansy wasn’t her mother’s personal doll anymore, and there seemed to be no middle ground between being attached at the hip and estrangement. Once you saw one crack in the mother daughter relationship it was hard not to see them all. Spur of the moment shopping trips were not just to spoil Pansy. Venting every personal detail to your young daughter was not, in fact, healthy.

But Pansy still missed her mom as she was, or at least how Pansy used to perceive her. So, she’d come to lunch when she could bare it. And sometimes there was a glimpse of the mom that she knew, and sometimes there was only cruelty. It was a sick game she played with herself.

Her mother loved to critique, and according to her there was so much to critique in Pansy’s life. Her violent job, her lack of attendance at social events, but above all her choice in partner. Be it the excuses her mother made or good old homophobia, her mother made sure her disapproval was known. Out loud and often.

“It’s not too late to get the marriage annulled,” Pansy’s mother said.

Pansy sneered. “You have some nerve asking me that.”

“It’s my job to make sure that you’re not throwing your life away. There’s no security there.”

Pansy didn’t how she still managed to be surprised by her mother’s casual cruelness.

“I don’t know what part you don’t understand but Astoria is my wife and that is not changing.”

Amaryllis made a noise of disapproval in her throat.

“How much do you love her?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve lost your inheritance, your status and your shame for her, but would you sacrifice her health to save your marriage?”

“Explain.” Pansy gritted out between her teeth. Only years of training to be the perfect witch kept Pansy in her seat.

“You get the marriage annulled and I’ll fund the research for her blood curse.”

Pansy did not believe for one moment that her mother would keep that promise, but she didn’t think that she’d go that far. But she supposed it was business. To accomplish goals, you had to take risks.

“Why do you want us split up that bad?”

“Because I love you and because you need someone who can support you. You deserve better.”  

Pansy refused to sit through the rest of the meal. The food she’d eaten was roiling her stomach. She didn’t even bother making an excuse for leaving.  

“That offer will always stand Pansy.”

The offer may have stood but Pansy knew she was too selfish to take it.   

Draco

The youngest weasel was barely scheduled for guard duty because of her Quidditch practice schedule. Everything was supposed to be normal, so she didn’t want to miss any practices and raise suspicion. This was the first time that Draco was paired with her.

Ginny was a knife’s edge. She would laugh with you just as easily as she’d hex you. Draco had secretly admired her brash attitude at school. He wasn’t sure how to handle it now that he was the focus. It was obvious that she was sizing him up, as he was sizing her up.  

“Harry said that you’re becoming quite the vampire whisperer,” Ginny said.

“I guess we have been developing an understanding.”

Granger’s dungeon was unrecognizable from when they first brought her in. The biggest change was the added foliage cover. She barely came out from under her fake forest. Neville had even donated some live plants.

When Granger wasn’t hiding, she was looking out the windows. They’d opened up the row of cells, giving her much more room to walk, which she took great advantage of. It had calmed her enough that she was no longer bashing herself against the walls.

It didn’t feel like a huge accomplishment, but it was progress. The biggest distress to her continued to be her inability to reach the wizards outside of her cage. She’d lunge at random, rattling the bars. But it lacked the desperation that used to drive it.

Ginny paced and stretched.

“This is horrendously boring,” she said.  

“But think of all the time we have to bond.” Draco hoped that she’d pick up on his dry sarcasm.

She gave a sarcastic sneer in return.

“How are the Harpies looking this year?”

Ginny looked at him with suspicion. “Make no mistake, we’re not friends just because we’re tangled in this crazy situation together. I’m not going to start sharing all my professional secrets with you like best friends.”

“But how will I know which team to bet on?”

“Who do you root for?”

“The Wasps.”

“Tough time to be a Wasps fan.”

“They’re building their team back. Give them time.”

It was remarkable how quick her emotions could turn. Amusement danced in her eyes.

“Time doesn’t give grit to players that don’t have it.”

“You don’t need grit if you have technique.”

“How easy it is to make calls from the stands.”

Draco let out am indignant noise through his nose.

The vampire was more active than usual.

“Want to do something to pass the time?” Draco cast a concentrated lumos, much like a laser that cast a dot of light on the ground. The vampire crouched and watched it roam slowly across the ground.  Her unsettling eyes reflecting no light in the dark room.

Draco moved his wand in arcs, making the dot of light come alive.

Without warning the vampire pounced, snarling. Trying to catch the light.

Ginny watched with wide eyes at the vampire’s speed. “Just like a cat.”

“Like a cat.”

“Harry was right. You are a vampire whisperer.”

He knew that he shouldn’t ask her, but he was so curious.  

“What’s happening with you and Potter?” Draco asked.

To his great surprise she answered. “We’re not together anymore.”

He shouldn’t push he really shouldn’t. It might push her over that dangerous knife’s edge. He asked anyway.

“Who broke up with who?”

“I broke up with him. If you must know.”

“I thought you two were heading down the aisle.”

“I thought so too.”

Nothing about it made sense. To care for someone as clearly as they did and not to be together.

“Then why break up with him?”  

“We’ve been dating him since we were kids. He was my first crush, my first everything. I never got a chance to figure myself out before him. He was my everything. I wanted to be sure.”

It was beyond Draco why someone who jettison a perfectly good relationship for the drudgery that was dating.  But then again, maybe you had better luck with dating when you were on the winning side of the war. He told her as much.

“Dating sucks. You might as well be with Potter.”

“Who broke your heart?” Ginny looked at him with an incredulous look.

“No, no. Don’t change the subject. Potter still looks at you like he’d take a curse for you.”

Ginny gave a long-tortured look.

“He gets a chance to explore too, and if we wind up together again, then we’ll know.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re dating life doesn’t seem much better.”

“I thought that we weren’t bonding.” Draco gave her his best winning smile.  

“Then I’ll keep to what’s public knowledge. How’d you stay friends with Astoria?”

There was no reason to be dishonest with her, so he wasn’t. Hopefully she would see that there was no game here.

“It’s hard not to like Astoria.”

“Sure, but you were really going to go through with the arranged marriage. Weren’t you?”

“I was.”

“Why?”

“Because dating was immensely disappointing. Everyone was so fake. Women were either looking for money or status. I swear one of them had a death eater fetish. I knew Astoria was a kind woman and I thought given time we could love each other. When we talked, she never tried to be anything but herself. But obviously it never would have been love.”

“So, you gave up?”

“Let’s say I’m not actively looking.”

“You are so depressing.”

“Ouch.”

For one moment, Draco considered what it might be like to date the youngest Weasley. She was beautiful, and alive. But the thoughts left his head as quickly as they came. That woman had fire in her veins, and he didn’t want to get burned. Plus, he had no interest in stepping on Potter’s toes.

“Why are you a monster hunter?”

“Because it was the closest to being an auror that they’d let me get.”

Ginny pursed her lips, like she had a secret.

“Do you have the mark?”

Draco lifted his shirt sleeve to reveal his dark mark. “Trust me. I’d claw the thing off if I could, but the magic is permanent. Every time you get rid of it, it comes back.”

Ginny tsked and moved right on. It turned out that Ginny was a fantastic gossip, and Draco ate up everything that she said.

“We should have talked in school,” Draco said.

Ginny laughed at him, actually laughed. Clear and bright.  

“Your dad tried to kill me. I wasn’t going anywhere near you.”

It was almost disappointing when there was a shift turn over.

Neville refused to see Hermione in her current state, but he put no less effort into the cause. He was in charge of the guard schedule, and he put more time into reading Granger’s notes than any of the rest of them.

As an unintended side effect of that, he spent a lot of time in the Malfoy Manor. The side parlor had become the hub of the research. Granger’s notes were kept there, along with the book she asked Draco for that day in her office.

Neville spent the most time in there, followed by Draco. Which meant they crossed paths often. They often worked side by side. It wasn’t comfortable. Even though Draco apologized to Longbottom more than once, it was still strained.

Draco adopted a similar strategy to dealing with the vampire. He was calm, he was quiet, he didn’t make any sudden movements.

Draco didn’t mean to startle Longbottom in his nest of paper, but his ass certainly left the sofa when Draco walked in.

“Sorry,” Draco said.

Longbottom seemed more anxious than usual. More on edge.

“Everything OK?”

 “How much do you know about muggle technology?” Neville asked.

“Assume that I know nothing,” Draco said.  

“These are scans from her notebook. Meaning these existed at some point, and they’re in a green notebook,” Neville said. “But we have the green notebook, and the pages aren’t in there.”

“Maybe there’s another green notebook?”

“With the same indentations?”

Sure enough, the marks from wear were exactly the same.  

“Maybe they’re in her flat or her office. But I can’t understand why she’d rip them out.”

“You think that someone messed with it?” Draco asked.

“I do.”

“That’s a wild accusation to make.” Draco didn’t want it to be true.

“Hermione spent so much time studying vampires and thinking about them. She was meticulous with her research. And I think that she could have held her own against a vampire.”

“You think someone set a vampire on her?”

“I do. I think someone didn’t want her finding a cure.”

“Why would someone not want that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then let’s not make assumptions without evidence.”

“The pages are evidence.”

Some missing pages weren’t enough to convince Draco that there had been foul play. If you studied vampires, you got bit.  

“I can’t believe it until there’s solid evidence.”

After everything that happened, Neville had never looked at him with that much disgust.

Chapter Text

Hermione – Before the Bite

Hermione shamelessly took a moment to hide in Harry’s kitchen with her butterbeer. Drinking anything stronger and she would have been on the ground from how tired she was.  She’d been up all night going over and over her notes.

She was taking a moment to herself to summon any energy she had left. She had planned a quiet night In her pajamas, but Harry needed her enough to pull her away. Ginny had broken up with him and Harry was not doing well.  He’d been thinking about engagement rings, and whether he should propose during the quidditch season or after it. And then she ended it.

Both Ron and Hermione had spent their share of time consoling Harry but none of their words seemed to make a difference. In the end the only thing that calmed him was firewhiskey.

Ron looked exasperated as he looked for something strong from Harry’s stash.

“Do you think we’re helping at all?” Hermione mused.    

“Not measurably.” Ron poured a liberal amount of firewhiskey into a glass. “It would be one thing if they were fighting or something, but they loved each other. It’s illogical that she broke up with him.”

Hermione’s fingers drummed on her butter beer mug. It wasn’t illogical, but she did think it was misguided.  

“She’ll figure out how good they were when she’s gone on enough lackluster dates.”

Ron quirked up the side of his mouth. A facial expression that in Hermione’s experience was often paired with a snarky comment.

“It’s a wonder we didn’t work out with that romantic attitude.”

“And I’m sure that Cho is all romance all the time. How could I compete?”

She of all people shouldn’t be the one to tease. If anyone’s love life was doing well, it was Ron and Cho’s. They’d been together long enough.

“I’m so tired of talking about my sister and my best friend. What have you been trying not to grin about all night?”

Hermione’s grin morphed into a full-fledged smile. She tried to keep any thoughts about her research at bay, but it was difficult to rip herself away from her work. She felt like she was close to something.

“I got to perform an autopsy on a vampire today.”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “Only you would be cheery over getting to butcher a corpse.”

“They’re fascinating. The brain shrank so much, similar to a dementia patient. And…”

“Please don’t. I don’t want to think about vampire innards right now.”

“Fine, but if you ever want to hear about how fascinating the blood composition is...”

“I assure you, I will never find that fascinating.”

“Your loss.”

Ron looked at her in a funny way like he knew her mind was drifting off. And then his brow furrowed.  

“Who’s giving you vampire bodies?”

Hermione hesitated, wondering if she wanted to give up her contact. “When the hunters kill a vampire, I get to work on it.”

“So, you have to interact with them?”

“Only Blaise.” Her fingers tapped on her beer mug, as she tried to calm herself.

“He seems like the best of them.”

“I wouldn’t know. Harry seems to actually like Draco.”

Ron’s face scrunched. “They dual side by side. I wouldn’t call it friendship.”

“You dual side by side with him and you’re not friends.”

Ron shot her an incredulous look.  

“I can’t tell if you’re advocating for Malfoy, or if you’re just being contrarian.”  

Hermione certainly wasn’t advocating for Malfoy, nor was he ready to hear about Blaise quite yet it seemed.  

“All I’m saying is that they seem to be trying.”

“They’re making inroads. Before we know it, Neville will like Millicent, and I will be best friends with Draco.”

“Don’t say things you don’t want to happen out loud.” 

Ron gave her a bear hug around the shoulders.

“I missed you.” Ron ruffled her hair on the way out of the hug and she tried to act annoyed. “We’ve left him alone too long.”

Hermione picked up the bottle by the neck and handed it him.

“Bring the whole thing.”  

Pansy

It was odd that Hermione’s attack was not followed by more attacks. Vampires were either in the forest and drinking animal blood or getting offed because they made it to the city. It was unusual to have a vampire that attacked and was never seen again.

Pansy and Draco attempted to retrace Hermione’s path that night. The area of the attack was in a busy city center. She would have had to walk directly through the city to get there.

All around them, muggles went about their daily business, oblivious of the attack that happened recently. So completely oblivious of the danger they were in constantly.

Pansy was trying her best to keep her foul mood in check, but Draco clocked it right away.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Draco asked.

“I had lunch with my mom.”

Draco looked like he immediately regretted his prior comment.

“How’d it go?”

“My mom offered to fund the branch of research involved with Astoria’s curse.”

“That’s good. Isn’t it?”

“The condition is that I have to annul my marriage.”

“Shit Pansy.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Draco let it go for now, and they focused on where Granger could have possibly come from. She couldn’t have walked far in a city when she was hungry. But there weren’t any close woods. There was only one path that Hermione could have taken. The river walk. A strip of trees that bisected little stretches of woods.

They hit the first patch of trees, looking for anything out of the ordinary. It didn’t take long to find Granger’s grave. Little more than a hole in the ground. It was nearly out in the open, barely concealed behind a patch of brambles.  

It chilled Pansy to the bone to see the spot where Granger had crawled out of the ground. There was no possible way that the vampire attack had happened there. There was no sign of a struggle on the ground. There would have been some gauges rather than pristine forest. Granger would have put up some fight. Which meant she was taken here after she was bitten.

Either a wizard was working a vampire or the vampire was conscious. Neither was a good scenario.

Draco mirrored her thoughts. “A wild vampire didn’t do this.” 

“We’ve walked into a spectacular mess.”

They set about covering the grave with dirt and brambles. It felt wrong to leave it like this. All the while they talked strategies for finding where the attack happened.

Draco learned a wand tracking spell from Potter, and they used it to apparate to the location.

They didn’t need training to know that a fight had happened her.

The damage on the trees was horrendous and the ground was scorched. She fought and fought hard.   

They walked the location of the attack, and Draco paused, picking up a wand from the ground. Pansy was ashamed to say that she didn’t remember what Hermione Granger wand looked like. She could remember the things she picked up a part; the big teeth, the frizzy hair. All things that she wished she could take back, that she’d never get the chance to.

“That is Granger’s? Right?”

He nodded. Draco looked shell shocked, like he’d seen a ghost.

Her wand was dirty and scuffed from a struggle. But when Draco cast a diagnostic spell, the last thing she’d cast was a shrinking spell. Nothing defensive. She’d been ambushed.

Draco pocketed the wand.

“We don’t need to do anything about it.” But he was anything but resigned. Draco tapped his fingers on his wands holster. A dead giveaway that he was irritated.

“To we tell the aurors? The other aurors?”

“They’ll kill her.”

“Then we have to do something about it.”

Chapter Text

Draco

If Draco was alone with his thoughts for too long, he saw scorch marks on the ground. Patches of black that lingered on the forest floor even now. Either that or the scratches on her wand. So, he didn’t give himself a second to think. Instead, he built a cage while its future occupant watched.

According to the guard logbook they kept, Hermione still managed to break through the bars once every few days. But she never managed to go through the wall. There had to be some magic keeping her in.  

Unfortunately, Draco could not replicate that magic. The wards on the wall were strong because of their age. He couldn’t replicate one thousand years of residual magic.  

So, Theo and he had managed to come up with a plan to build an outdoor enclosure from scratch, but they knew it wasn’t enough. No metal seemed to be strong enough, and no spell they could cast affected her.

Even if they never got the vampire in there, building the thing helped Draco get his mind off of everything for an afternoon. And apparently, it was entertainment for Hermione. She peered out the window, still as could be. Her black eyes following every movement they made.

While they worked the metal, Draco and Theo bounced ideas off each other for vampire containment. The ideas had evolved into the absurd, but the more absurd they got, the better Draco felt. 

“Goblin magic?” Theo asked.

“Getting a goblin on the property would be impossible,” Draco said.

“If you bribe him?”

“With the Malfoy money that was supposed to be confiscated after the war?”  

The pair worked the raw metal into thin ropes, molding it into the bars of the enclosure. Draco morphed the metal and Theo sawdered them in place.

“Guard dragon,” Theo suggested.

“Fantastic, we’ll guard a flammable creature with one that breathes fire.”

“Guard kelpie?”

By putting random items in Granger’s cell, they knew she hated fire, water and bright light. Vampires could be afraid of kelpies for all they knew. 

“A moat might actually work.”

“She can jump the length of her cell. She can jump the length of a moat.”

Draco quirked his mouth up to the side, his gray eyes flashing. “Big ass moat.”

“With a kelpie.”

Theo swung his dark hair out of his eyes, trying to cool himself down from the hot sparks coming off the end of his wand.

Draco let the metal fall to the ground, trying to catch his breath. “We can make money by staging fights between the vampire and the kelpie and then no one will care that we’re breaking a thousand dangerous creature laws.”

“And then we can pay the goblin.”

Draco quirked up the side of his mouth. “Theo. I do believe that you are finally using that potential of yours.”

Draco spared a glance at the vampire watching them. Theo waved at the vampire. Waved at it. An unbelievable behavior.

The vampire cocked her head in response.  

By the end of the day, the enclosure was done. Double walled and reenforced with every protective charm the group could think of. It was partially indoors and partially outdoors, with a stunning view of the forest behind the Manor. The inside could almost pass for a real forest. There were plenty of places to get cover from the sun and the elements, without the guard losing sight of her.

Vampire paradise. Theoretically. If they could make the vampire stay in there.  

Draco wanted to be an auror for as long as he could remember. Theo, Blaise and he used to play auror for hours and hours when they were kids. Draco knew the exact scores on his O.W.L.S that he’d have to get to be considered for the position. He was obsessed.  

And then his parents entangled his future with the dark lord. His life was decided for him before he turned twelve. As his father worked to gain the dark lord’s favor, he was gambling with his family’s future. No matter how much Lucious did, in the end, his and his family’s future hinged on the boy with the lightning bolt scar. The tattoo on his wrist now meant that he could never become an auror.

But he could work next to them, and so he volunteered for any job that they requested help with, even though it bruised his ego every time he did.  

Today, they wanted help taking down a smuggling ring. The organization smuggled money, illegal potions, and creatures into London.

The aurors had found one of their warehouses and Draco and Pansy went to lend their expertise with any creatures in there, and for backup. They weren’t stupid enough to waist two practiced duelers when they could use them.

Draco did his check. Wand. Backup wand. Weapons. All strapped to his body and easily accessible she he need them.

It was in this environment that Draco felt the most alive, the most in his body. He hoped for a fight. Not a deadly one, or even a dangerous one. He wasn’t mad. But he felt like a gunpowder ready to ignite.  

The aurors surrounded the building. Draco and Pansy were separated on either side of the warehouse. Ron was among the group of aurors with Draco and Harry with Pansy. Ron, to his displeasure found a spot right next to him. All of them were cloaked with disillusion charms.

Draco wanted to focus. He didn’t want to play the social game right now. Ron did little to hide his feelings, and it was very clear to Draco that even with the current circumstances, they weren’t friends. But they weren’t as unfriendly as they used to be. It was a nightmare for Draco, who liked all things orderly. Ron was a person he could not file away neatly into his brain. He could handle a friend, he could handle an enemy, he couldn’t handle this in between.

The aurors knew from watching the warehouse that wizards and witches were in and out of the building all day long. The building was well warded, and so the exact number inside was impossible to know. The group was hoping to catch a few people unaware as they left the warehouse, but no one did. It was clear that these smugglers were not new at this.

The group lead gave them the signal and Draco’s mind slipped into the pure instinct that came with a fight.   

The warehouse was filled with all merchandise in wooden crates. The magical creatures were in the main aisle. There were plastic bins with snakes, boxes of pixies, a baby kelpie in a tank. Draco wondered if they’d ever held something like a vampire, and he wondered if he’d get a chance to find out.

Draco cast an immobilizing spell at everything that moved. The goal was to set the smugglers running, to funnel them to the aurors waiting on the other side. They cast bombastic spells that made noise and shot light. A show to get the smugglers running. They didn’t fall for it. The smugglers knew the aurors tactics well enough.

They responded with a volley of spells back at them, never running, never giving up ground. Draco found shelter behind a shelf from the onslaught of charms. The lead auror motioned for the group to push forward.

As Draco moved, he cast sticky spells at the cage’s doors. He made sure that any dangerous or chaotic creature wasn’t getting out. Ron shadowed him.

“You’re giving away your location,” Ron whispered.

“They get desperate, they open the cages,” Draco said.  

Ron nodded.  

Curses volleyed back and forth, never finding a mark. Neither group made progress. 

Someone cast a bombarda to Draco’s left. Draco cast a shield, but the blast was strong enough to throw him sideways.

He tried to catch himself but fell hard on his side. Maybe he should have been scared, instead he felt invigorated. He sprang up, ready to go.

Debris clouded Draco’s vision as he tried to orient himself. Ron was out of sight, hidden hopefully.

The smugglers were throwing curses. Dark magic had a sizzle to it that light magic didn’t. Draco had to use immobilizing spells only. It was an unfair fight. It didn’t matter.

Draco crouched, waiting for a line of sight. As soon as he saw a smuggler they hit the ground.

Ron motioned for him to hit the side wall of the warehouse, as the other group closed in from the back. No one wanted friendly fire.

The smugglers were going down quickly, surrounded as they were. They were picked off one by one.

Sensing there was no room to escape, the smugglers panicked and tried to flee. Sure enough, one smuggler tried to open the cage of a wampus cat, and his hand stuck fast.

Ron shot Draco a nod of approval. He shouldn’t have. Draco was thinking about how to separate a smuggler from the group.

He got his chance when one took off, fleeing when he thought he had a chance. 

“Got him,” Draco said, and he chased.

Draco didn’t attempt to catch the smuggler at first. He let him get some distance. But he ran after him, keeping close. Draco grounded himself every time his foot hit the pavement. He was so in his body, so explosive.

Draco waited until they were out of sight, and then he cast his first spell.

Draco dodged a sloppy bombarda and kept in pursuit.

An expelliamus, a quick incarcerus aimed at the legs and it was over.

Helpless, the smuggler struggled against the rope bindings on his legs.

Draco coated his voice with authority. “Tell me something, and I’ll tell them that you got away.”

The smuggler narrowed his eyes, untrusting, but he took the bait.

“What do you want to know?”

“Tell me every containment method you use. Quickly.”

None of the suggestions he had were helpful, but Draco kept pushing.

“Have you ever held a vampire?”

“We don’t have a death wish.”

“Anything humanoid?”

“A werewolf.”

“Tell me how.”

He was about to open his mouth when Potter caught up to them. Draco knew that Potter would break a law for his best friend, but this might be too far.

No one moved. The smuggler stopped talking. Draco was already planning how to get himself out of this. He prepared his back-up wand, obliviate on his lips.

“Well. Tell him,” Potter said.  

The smuggler’s gaze flicked between the two.

“Keep talking,” Draco said, sinking every bit of menace her could into the question.

They smugglers used bracelets on humanoid creatures, a shock system. It was genius really, you couldn’t affect the vampire with magic, but you could charm what they were wearing.

But Draco wouldn’t shock Granger. He pitied that poor werewolf that had been subjected to something so cruel. A shock to keep back a werewolf had to have been strong.  

The boys couldn’t press the smuggler as much as they’d like. They’d been gone too long as it was. Someone would worry.

Draco knew he needed to obliviate the smuggler. He had no reason to keep a secret for Draco.  

Potter beat him to it.

“You did that with your own wand?” Draco said incredulously.

“What were my other options?”

“Second wand Potter,” Draco said. “If you’re going to be a crooked auror you have to be good at it.”

Harry led the smuggler back at wand point, and he didn’t go smoothly. The chosen one was not the object of his anger.

“Death eater. Motherfucker.”

“Hey,” Ron shouted, loud enough to startle everyone. “Mind your tongue.”

Draco took a moment to see if Pansy was okay. She was dirty from the flying debris, and there was blood on her sleeve, but she was walking fine, acting normal.

Draco and Pansy went to handle the animals, as the aurors sent the smugglers to their holding cells by port key.

Potter pulled him aside in all of the chaos.

“You weren’t really going to let him go. Were you?” Potter asked.

“Of course not.”

“And you know we can’t shock her.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Do you even trust me a little bit?”

“Enough. I don’t really have a choice.” No matter if anyone liked it or not, they were in this mess together. They were equally responsible for harboring a dangerous creature.

“But I didn’t think that you’d be willing to put your job on the line.”

“You were always the rule follower, not me,” Potter said.

“And following rules led to me straight to Azkaban.”

Pansy practically bounded up to them. The short fight had reinvigorated her too. She looked happier than he’d seen her in weeks.

“Guess what I found.” Pansy opened her palm to reveal a chimera horn.  “And we didn’t have to kill it ourselves.”

Chapter Text

Astoria  

Astoria and Pansy were staying in the manor for the foreseeable future, so they made themselves at home, which included the dungeons. Draco firmly believed that everyone should be calm around the vampire, but no one else followed that rule.  

It was a good day. The pain never stopped, but it was minimal. She didn’t need her cane. Astoria made herself tea and heated more water than she needed so that she could bring some to whoever was on guard duty. Always one for daily opulence, Astoria arranged one of Narcissa’s tea sets on a tray with sugar and cream.   

“Good morning,” Astoria said cheerily. She floated her serving tray to the ground and Ron helped himself to a pour of tea. Theo barely looked up. He was surrounded by a mess of metal bits and pieces.      

Black eyes stared at Astoria from the other side of the cage. “Morning Granger.”   

The vampire stayed close to the bars, watching Theo’s wand flick back and forth. Theo appeared to be manufacturing metal cuffs on the dungeon floor.  

Granger looked better than she ever had since she turned. They’d been experimenting with different kinds of blood, and something about mixing different kinds of blood was calming her down. She didn’t need to eat as often, and she seemed like she was waking up to the world.   

She was still a woman gone mad, but there was less panic, unless something set her off. She seemed to care more about cleanliness now, and Pansy even managed to get her to brush her hair.  

Ron kept a slant eye on the vampire but was clearly distracted by Theo’s work.  

Theo swore under his breath.  

“What are we working on?” Astoria asked.   

“Tracking cuff,” Ron answered for Theo.   

Theo let out a particularly loud swear and the vampire flinched, but didn’t flee.  

Pansy came in soon after, still in her robe. She gave Astoria a kiss on the top of the head, before settling on the ground next to her and helping herself to tea.  

“How are you awake right now?” Pansy asked Ron.  

Ron did look quite disheveled. More than usual. “Can’t sleep after raids. I figured I might as well do something useful.”  

They all watched Theo tinker with the cuffs.  

“Hold this,” Theo told Pansy. She reluctantly held the metal disk she was handed.  

Theo put one of the cuffs on the floor, a small distance from them, and put it on the ground, across a chalk line on the ground.  

The cuff slide against the stone floor and then stopped. Apparently, that was not the intended action because Theo looked he wanted to murder it.  

Draco walked into everyone sitting on the floor, drinking tea. He looked like he wanted to start a fight but gave up when he saw how calm the vampire was. Resigned to the reality that he was wrong, he poured himself a cup and joined everyone on the floor, wincing as he did so.  

Astoria opened her mouth to scold him for how terrible he looked. He was supposed to be taking over guard duty, but he looked like he barely slept either, dark circles poking through his pale skin. And he was injured somewhere.  

Draco shot her a look that silenced anything she would have said about it, but she made her displeasure about it known. That man was going to get himself killed one of these days with how little he cared for his own safety. At least his eyes were bright.  

“Any progress?” Draco asked Theo.  

Theo huffed. “None. We might even have made negative progress.”  

Apparently, the cuff was supposed to spring back to the disk when it crossed the threshold. It was supposed to be strong enough to pull a vampire back. It was rigged like a shock cuff, but with an advanced mechanism.  

“I had high hopes for you,” Draco said.  

“Do you know is a fantastic engineer? Blaise!” Theo said.   

“We’re not telling him.”  

“Why not?”   

“Because we can’t trust him.”  

No one else felt that way, but neither was anyone willing to push him on the matter. Blaise went behind his back to get promoted at the Ministry. Draco had every right to be mad at him.  

“Hermione trusted him.” All of the Slytherins stared at Ron, and he shrunk under their gaze. He looked rather like he’d said something he shouldn’t have without knowing it.  

Pansy recovered from the shock first. “They knew each other?”  

“I thought everyone knew that he supplied the vampire corpses to her,” Ron said.  

“That wasn’t common knowledge. No,” Pansy said.  

“Look. I don’t know him, but he knew what she was doing, and she trusted almost no one with it. And she trusted him.”  

“Do you know who else she told?” Draco asked.  

“Harry and I, Ginny and Blaise.”  

“Granger trusted him with something completely legal, though stupid. Not with this,” Draco said.  

“It would be so much easier if he knew,” Pansy said.  

“It might be, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right choice. He’s in the Ministry’s pockets. The only thing that I know for sure is that he’ll want to put an end to it before it can ruin his precious reputation.”  

Pansy’s eyes met hers, but she dropped it. There was no hope of changing his mind when he dug his heels in like this. They’d have the conversation again. Just not now, when everyone was tired and temperamental.  

Theo threw his hands up in frustration.  

“Granger,” Theo said. “You’re the smart one. How do I do this?” The vampire blinked at him. “Great insight. Thank you.”   

Draco  

Draco sat on stone floor and tapped his fingers against his wand, tucked neatly away in its holster.  He knew that the vampire could feel how tense he was. Draco didn’t know who to be mad at. He hadn’t trusted Blaise in so long; it shouldn’t have surprised him that he kept another secret, but it hurt all the same. Granger’s friends didn’t owe him anything. Granger was gone.  

Potter knew that he was irritated, but thankfully didn’t bother to ask why. He looked just as tired and wrung out.  

But no matter how far Blaise had fallen in Draco’s graces, Draco knew that Blaise would ever set a vampire on someone. Either Granger had secrets of her own, or she didn’t know that someone was after her. He could confront Blaise hoping that he’d know something.  

Draco didn’t feel ready for it. His pride couldn’t take much more. It was enough having to answer to him professionally. He didn’t want to go crawling to him for information that he may or may not have. And he felt in his bones, that Blaise would want Granger gone. She would be a problem he didn’t want.  

From reading her notes, it was clear that Granger was a complex woman. She worked herself until her notes became incoherent. She dug into a problem until she solved it. Insecurity plagued her, even though she must have known how much smarter she was than everyone else. She seemed the type to argue for the fun of it. Everything Draco read only made him more curious about her, and he wished that he had known this before she was already gone. She seemed like the kind of person he might have enjoyed talking to.  

Not that knowing would have made a difference. He couldn’t have waltzed into her office and told her that they both liked reading Dickens and that they should discuss the books. She was still the Golden Girl, and he was only good enough to be monster fodder.  

They were only tied together as it was through the most tenuous of circumstances. He was her unwanted jailor and she his unruly house guest.  

The calm of the morning was long gone. A predatory gaze had settled over Granger’s features, and she kept her eyes trained on Potter. Occasionally, she sniffed the air.  

Thanks to the raid, they almost had all of the potion ingredients. They were perhaps a week out from brewing, and then it would be up to fate. Draco could wait that long to confront Blaise.  

Draco was trying to be content with the little bits of knowledge they’d gained. But he was not an easily satisfied person.  

Draco felt in his bones that Granger needed human blood. But he also knew that giving her that would make it stronger, and she was barely contained as it was.  

Even now, she looked like she was ready to spring out. There was something wrong with Granger’s eyes. They were dilated to pinpoints, like she was about to feed.    

“Potter. Are you bleeding anywhere?” Draco said.  

“The wound dried.”  

That didn’t seem to matter. Hermione threw herself at the bars, reaching for Potter. Potter scrambled away, inches from her fingers, moments from being pulled to her.  

“Leave,” Draco said. He had his wand at the ready, daring Granger to come through the bars.  

Potter was clearly trying to recover. “Should I send...”  

“I’ve got it.”   

Even Potter leaving didn’t stop Granger from trying to attack. The vampire was in a frenzy, driven mad by the scent of blood. She flung her body against unforgiving metal again and again. The bars were bloody from where her skin had opened. Not the bright red of a human’s but dark, nearly black.  

Draco had no patience for this now. He wanted to get mad, to fling himself at the bars in frustration. Instead, he forced himself to calm down and to take a deep breath.    

“Hey, Granger,” Draco crooned. “Stop.”   

She kept bashing.  

Draco smacked his palms against the bars, hard enough to rattle them. The noise was enough to startle her.   

“Stop that.” Like he was scolding her.  

To his relief, Hermione stopped and looked at him. But now that he had the full attention of the vampire, he didn’t know what to do with it.   

Vampire and human took each other in, neither moving. Draco was struck with the feeling that if he did something wrong, she’d start up the frenzy again.  

“Theo said that he talks to you, and you pay attention to him. That you’re listening. And even though I feel absolutely ridiculous.”  

The vampire relaxed out of her crouching position.    

“Your potion is almost done. It would have been nice if would have thought about how difficult it would be to obtain some of those ingredients.”   

He summoned one of the bottles of blood they kept on hand, while he kept talking, hoping animal blood would suffice. Draco told her how they got each and every ingredient, because it was something to talk about. Something to keep her from bashing herself against the bars.   

She calmed a little bit after she fed, though the look in her eyes remained feral. It seemed that it was only the cadence of his voice keeping her instinct at bay. Potter’s blood had sent her mind somewhere else.  

He ran out of ingredients to talk about eventually, but the vampire looked like she was waiting for something. So, he kept talking.  

“I’m sorry that I never got the chance to apologize to you, for all of the things that happened when we were kids. I wish I’d known better then.”   

Hermione cocked her head, like she was paying attention, so Draco continued.    

“I should never have called you a mudblood. I thought that it made me superior, back then. Not that you need me to tell you that. Obviously, you’re capable and smart and worth a thousand of me.”  

He told her all of the things he wished he’d told her before, that he never could. He talked almost all day, and the vampire listened.    

Chapter Text

Hermione

Hermione came to know the faces of the people watching her. There was the one with the pinched face, the girl with the orange hair, the tall one that constantly chattered.  

The one with the silver-colored hair was different than the others. He moved with the grace of a predator, and he wasn’t afraid of her. She felt the fear of the others, but never him. He talked to her for hours. Words that she’d understood once. The unintelligible noises flitted through her mind like birds through a field. Pretty things that were here and gone.

The days became benign in their routine. Even the magic that used to grate at her bones became familiar, like one adjusted to a bad smell.  The monotony made it easy to figure out when something was wrong.   

There were too many people around the cage. Too many people that were too tense. They all wore leathers; thick coverings that went all the way up their necks.  The tall dark haired one, and the light-haired one held black metallic cuffs in their hands. The cuffs were familiar to Hermione; she’d seen them being fiddled with in the hallway outside her bars.

They people moved towards the bars in a choreographed pattern. Hermione hissed as they approached her, but she didn’t run. They were foolish to get close.  

The dark-haired girl waved her stick, and Hermione fell to the ground. She fought it, struggled to free herself of the grips of the immobilizing spell, but her arms remained limp. Her face rested strangely against the floor, so that she mostly saw stone floor. Hermione’s eyes tracked their feet as they approached her.

The dark-haired boy spoke with soothing sounds, as they tapped her on the shoulder. Satisfied that she wouldn’t move, they started cuffing her, moving cautiously but quickly.

The one with the light hair met her eyes. He’d never been so close. He smelled of leather and underneath that, iron. This close, she could hear the blood moving through his veins.  

The moment the cuffs closed around her wrists, they burned. Hermione’s hand twitched.  

“Pans.” Hermione was hit with another stunner. This one lasted even less.

“You’re OK.” The words meant nothing to her, but the sound of fair-haired boy’s voice was pleasing, like skin against silk sheets.

His voice calmed her for a while, but the anger built as her skin itched from the magic that was rubbing against her bare skin. Her anger built and built until it exploded.  

The two men backed away long before they stopped hitting her with stunning spells. Hermione lunged, and was yanked back. Again and again, she hit some invisible barrier and returned to a metal disk in the center of the floor.

Draco

“How confident are we that she can’t get those off?” Potter said.

Granger was trying her best to free herself. She’d been unsuccessful so far. When prying didn’t work, she slammed the metal against rock. The clang was loud enough to make it to the top floor of the Manor.

Draco watched it all with cynical optimism. “We’ve got so many spells on there. You could teach a semester at Hogwarts on those cuffs alone.”

Theo was as pleased as could be that his system worked, but the cuffs were clearly frustrating the vampire. Draco was confident that she would be okay when she realized they meant she could be outside.

“Have the smugglers been sentenced yet?” Draco asked.

“Not yet. It’s going to take a while to process everything, but there’s enough evidence in that warehouse to keep them locked up for a long time.”

“And the people running it?”

“There wasn’t a paper trail.”

Draco nodded. No one at the top ever got caught.

Potter looked rather nervous at whatever thought was in his head. Impulsivity won over. “How did you manage to keep the Manor?”

“I didn’t do anything illegal.”

“I wasn’t implying that you were doing anything nefarious.”

“But you expected a nefarious answer.”

“Well?”

“The Manor was in trust, so it was protected when they seized our assets.”

Potter nodded. “Of course the Malfoy’s would find a loophole.”

“It’s not a loophole. Simply legal semantics.”

“I suppose it’s a rich man’s world.”

“Always has been.” A thought crossed Draco’s mind. “Was anyone looking at Granger’s work? To fund it? Was she shopping it around?”

“No. Something that radical would never get funded. She told us that all of the time.”

“She thought no one would throw money at a hopeless cause?”

“Exactly.”

It did make sense to Draco. He certainly wouldn’t have funded such a risky venture. Current situation notwithstanding.

But then, even Draco had to admit that it was the risk of the situation that was thrilling to him. He couldn’t think of the last time that he’d thrown so much of himself at a proposition that had more of a chance of failure than success. It almost felt like the same feeling that he got when he was in the field, facing down a monster. Almost.  

“Do you think the potion will work?” Potter asked.

Draco ran his hands through his hair, trying to neaten it up. “I wouldn’t be doing this without if I thought that there wasn’t some hope.”

Whatever Potter was looking for from Draco, he got it. Maybe turning the eternal cynic into an optimist was encouraging to him.

“I miss her,” Potter said to no one in particular, quiet enough that Draco almost didn’t hear him.

Hermione

The cuffs burned against her skin. No matter how much brute strength she threw at them, they wouldn’t come off. It was all that she could think about.

When the people came this time, she didn’t go quietly. She hid and snarled, but they got her anyway.

Hermione’s blood was pumping fast on adrenaline, burning through the stunning spells quickly.

She didn’t notice them open the door, but she did notice them circle her. She was surrounded. Her unconscious body was levitated out of the door and outside.

Outside. It smelled of rain and dirt. Leaving the dungeon felt like a release. The magic didn’t roil against her here. Above all she was able to breath, to see the sky.

But still she smelled them. Their blood called to her.

The spell burned quickly, and she waited. They didn’t know she could move. She could wait until the right moment. One came too close.

She lunged. Grabbed at the person who came too close. Flesh connecting with flesh. The wooden stick he was holding flew away in the struggle. Instinct took over as she bit and pinned. Blood flooded her mouth.

Spells flew around her, but she too frenzied. They didn’t hit their target.

Hermione dragged the body to the forest. She kept moving, until they were hidden in the underbrush.  

She heard shouting behind her, but didn’t pay it any mind as she instinctively pulled the person somewhere hidden. Once felt that she was safely hidden, she pinned the body down in the dirt.   

Gray eyes assessed her. He didn’t move like pray, but his heart was pounding. She drank in the smell of him. The taste of blood only made her want more.

“Please don’t,” he purred. His voice was fascinating to her.

He was still as she fumbled with his leather collar, tried to tear it away. He was still as she put her fangs to his neck.

He let out a pained groan. That sound woke her up. He was in pain. She didn’t want him to be in pain. The confusions stopped her for a moment.  

“Come on Granger,” he said. “You don’t want to do this.”

The taste of human’s blood afforded her one moment of clarity. She was Granger. She knew him. Malfoy. What was she doing? But the thoughts were gone as soon as they’d come. She’d had so little.    

Hermione didn’t know what he was doing at first. She couldn’t figure out why he pressed his legs to her stomach.

Draco threw her off. Pushed her over some imaginary line, and the cuffs yanked her away.

Chapter Text

Pansy

The vampire had Draco and Pansy couldn’t get a clean shot. She aimed her wand, but Granger was too fast. She pulled him under the brush before anyone could hit her.  

Pansy let out a scream of frustration. She allowed herself that one moment of weakness, and then her training kicked in and she calmed herself.  

They hadn’t been moving Granger far. One lawn to cross. One patch of grass, and they’d blown it. They’d gotten complacent.

Four people made the edge of the perimeter; Granger wasn’t supposed to be able to break out. But she’d grabbed Draco, moving the line with him. They’d even used an extra precaution of stupefying her, but the spell hadn’t lasted.

Everyone looked to her for what to do.

“Nobody move,” Pansy said. Theo and Harry looked at Pansy like she was mad. She was aching to go into the forest to find Draco.

They couldn’t break the perimeter. Whatever was happening to Draco in there, if he got an inch of skin, a foot over, the line Hermione would be pulled back to the center. Draco was keeping the connection, and he had his wand; he would be OK. He had to be.

All the vampire had to do was take one wrong step out and she would be yanked back. She had the advantage in the forest. 

As time passed, the panic grew, and nothing came from the forest. But Draco was alive, his chain in the fence had not broken. It was like nature had swallowed them both up.

“Fuck this,” Ginny said, and she took out her wand to go in there.

“Don’t,” Harry said. He took a step towards her, but he didn’t have enough space to go to her.  “Ginny. Don’t. He’ll be fine.” But his voice was shaky.

Pansy counted to keep herself distracted. Real simple. One…Two… She would have stormed in their herself otherwise.

The rustling in the bushes came not a moment too soon.  

The cuffs yanked Granger from the brush back into the triangle. Spitting mad. Covered in blood.

They waited for Draco to emerge from the forest, but he didn’t.  

Everyone looked to Pansy for the next move.

Pansy’s voice broken as she gave the command. “We keep going.”

They went much closer than before, keeping the line tighter, keeping Granger more constrained. They moved an inch at a time. They didn’t dare more. Pansy’s hackles were raised until Granger was safely in the outdoor cage.

Granger was anything but calm, like the blood put her into a frenzy.

Ron placed his perimeter disk on the corner on the cage first, and then looked to Pansy.

“Go get him,” Pansy said. Ron disappeared into the underbrush, as everyone put their own markers in place.

Pansy didn’t let out her breath until she saw Draco emerged from the brush, supported by Ron. Draco limped badly, an arm dangling at one side. There was a deep gash in Draco’s arm where fangs had torn into flesh.

“Merlin Draco,” Pansy said. She knew it was bad when Draco when he didn’t immediately respond with some sarcastic comment or dismissal of her panic.  

Ron lowered Draco to the grass and ran his wand over Draco’s body, murmuring healing spells. Draco was weak from blood loss, barely able to lift his head off the grass.

“I’ll be fine,” Draco said to no one in particular.

“Fine?” Ginny sounded like she was scolding Draco.

“I’m not dead,” Draco’s eyes were wild with adrenaline.

He wasn’t dead yet. Ron worked on Draco’s wounds with every healing spell he knew. The arm healed, but he kept bleeding. He had enough venom in him to stop his blood from clotting. And it had to have been painful. Pansy had seen Draco take more injuries that she could count. He had to close his eyes from how much the venom stung.

Ron looked around at the faces surrounding them, looking for help. “He won’t heal.”  

“Then we’ll take him to a doctor,” Pansy said.

“You can’t take me to a doctor,” Draco said. “There was no alert.”

“You could have run into one in the woods.” Pansy could not fathom why Draco was fighting this. “This is not up for debate.”

“They’d investigate,” Draco said.

“Then we’ll make sure there’s no vampire to find,” Pansy focused on the vampire.

“Don’t. Please don’t.” Draco’s eyes were fraught with worry.

They were wasting too much time. Pansy didn’t care what anyone else thought, Draco was getting healed, and they’d figure out consequences later. She’d force everyone’s hand if she had to.

“Blaise. Call Blaise,” Theo said.

“We’ve been over this.” Draco tried his best to use his authoritative voice, but the effect was weakened by how gravelly it sounded. “The venom will thin, and wounds will heal.”

“Stop fighting. He’s on his way,” Theo said. Pansy was impressed by Theo’s refusal to say no.

Harry groaned. “Can we trust him?”

“I already told him about this mess,” Theo said. “And despite everyone’s protests he hasn’t said a thing.”

Draco’s face contorted into cold fury.

“Why?”

“We’ll talk later. I’ll tell you everything when you’re not dying of stubbornness of your own damn lawn.”

Hermione

The last time that Hermione and Blaise spoke, they’d fought.

When Hermione looked for someone to help her with her research, she considered each person in the group carefully. Theo was a loose cannon. She’d never fully trust Pansy, no matter if her bullying was in the past.  Draco made her uncomfortable. Blaise, with his skill and knowledge in healing, was the obvious choice.

She made him sign the secrecy documents and then he started supplying her vampire corpses. She didn’t expect him to be interested in the work, but he became just as invested as her.

Blaise reminded Hermione of the academics she’d known at Oxford. Whip smart and infinite curious. To her surprise, he asked lots of questions as she worked.  

They spent so many nights working and talking, discovering new things as they went. And Blaise himself had a fascinating mind. He wanted to climb up the Ministry ladder, despite his social position. He strived for power.

When Blaise got promoted after a contentious battle for Malfoy, Hermione was the first one that he told. Hermione knew that his friends had taken Malfoy’s side.

Despite how much she was learning, it was undeniable that the progress they were making was slowing down. It was difficult to study a blood disease postmortem.

Vampire blood moved differently than a human’s and when the vampire died, it was like the blood evaporated. So, all Hermione had at her disposal was trace samples.

Hermione developed a potion that theoretically would deal with the symptoms of vampirism, and she desperately wanted to test it.

“What would you think about taking back a live specimen?” Hermione had asked him.

“That’s too far, Granger,” Blaise said. Hermione felt that there would be no arguing with him, but she couldn’t let his progress stop. She wanted to cure vampirism, not just treat symptoms. If she could even do that.

“There’s so much to gain.”

“I’m not participating in it. It’s too much.”

The fight got ugly enough that Blaise stopped helping her.  

So, Hermione turned to Draco, and he told her the same thing. So, she dropped it. Even she knew that there were limits, and she’d just have to be frustrated.

When Blaise went to apologize to her, or apologize as much as he was willing, he wouldn’t apologize for being right, Hermione was gone. Her boss told him that she was on sick leave.

Blaise had been beside himself with worry that Hermione was attacked. He searched for her, until Theo confessed everything to him. He wanted to storm into the Manor and scream at everyone. But he knew that doing so would only push a deeper wedge in between him and everyone else. He decided that he’d be there if he was needed, and resigned himself to worrying sick about everyone. It was surprising when the group actually started to pull it off.

But he never stopped worrying. When Theo told him Draco needed help, Blaise worried that all of his fears came true.

Pansy

Blaise worked on Draco for a long time. Draco wasn’t even well enough to be moved to the parlor. Neither of them talked to each other, despite curt words aimed at each other. Pansy didn’t care if they verbally eviscerated each other if Draco came out of this alive.

Draco was trying to be brave, but he was in pain, even after taking a potion for the pain. It was a miracle he hadn’t been drained.

Once he was stable enough, Draco tried to comfort Pansy, of all the madness.

“It’s OK, Pans,” Draco said.

Pansy sneered.  “This madness has gone on too long.”

Typical Draco, no concern for his own safety. “Don’t do anything drastic.”

“Draco, you nearly died.” Pansy looked at anyone in the group for support and found none.

“Two more days. Two more days until the potion’s ready. We’ve lasted this long.”   

“We all knew what we were getting into,” Ron said.

“If it was one of you that was hurt?” Pansy snapped. No one said anything, no one dared put themselves in front of Pansy’s rage. But everyone looked shaken.

Pansy’s voice dropped down to nearly a whisper. “He nearly died.”

Draco’s eyes softened. “I didn’t. I’m fine.” He pulled her to the ground, awkwardly hugging her with his good arm.

Pansy came away bloody.

Once everything was cleaned, Granger settled.

Blaise, magic exhausted, studied Granger in the cage. He didn’t say a word, inquisitive as always. But he’d cock his head to the side, and Granger would mimic him. Maybe he was looking for some recognition that couldn’t be found.

“What did you get yourself into Granger?” he said.

The vampire was close to the bars, eyes level with Blaise’s.

“I didn’t realize you were friends,” Harry said.

“We…”

Blaise looked like he was trying hard to get the words out.

Draco let out a tired laugh. “She got to you too.”

“She had a plan for most everything.”  “You could have trusted me.”

“I didn’t know that,” Draco said. Nothing between them was fixed, not really. Draco would have

And then Blaise launched into a barrage of questions about the vampire.

Granger barely took her eyes off Draco during the whole conversation.

“She knows how good I taste now,” Draco said, commenting on the black eyes looking at him.

“I don’t think she’s looking at you with that kind of hunger,” Harry said.

“I think she’s claimed you, mate,” Theo said.

Pansy sneered at how casual everyone was being.

No matter any possessive feelings the vampire might have had, she’d mauled him. But Draco didn’t care. He almost smirked at how pleased she seemed with her new accommodations. Pansy wanted to yell at him for being foolish.

Chapter Text

Draco  

Getting mauled by a vampire should have scared Draco. Except that, for one fraction of a second, Granger recognized him. She was still in there somewhere.  

Though he wasn’t psychologically scared by the attack, Draco was still physically hurting by the time the potion was made. She’d done a number on his arm, and the venom caused unpleasant side effects. He felt like he was burning from the inside out.   

Blaise took Draco’s spot in the guard duty rotation, thought Draco was careful to avoid him. Having him in the house was bad enough. Blaise also asked Millie to help, and when Millie refused Blaise not so subtly forced her into it. She complained about the situation every chance she got. Loudly and angrily.  

Draco thought about what brought about Hermione’s moment of lucidity and convinced himself that it was because she drank human blood. And now that she never escaped the perimeter there was no reason not to give it to her. No one else agreed when he brought it up.  

There was the matter of supply. No one wanted to draw blood from an uncooperative muggle. Draco thought that surely her muggle boyfriend could be persuaded to give up some of his, but he asked Ron about the possibility. Ron only winced and dismissed the idea. The boyfriend didn’t know about wizards yet, and Ron was not going to tell him. Draco was desperately curious to know why, but he decided it would be wise to not ask more questions.   

Everyone else thought that it was foolish to give her any of their blood. Vampires who drank magical blood were known to develop strange abilities. Draco failed to see how that mattered if she was sane, but he reluctantly gave into the group consensus.   

Granger’s potion had taken two days to brew. The recipe was not complex, though everyone involved made sure that the potion was brewed to Granger’s specifications. She’d written nearly two pages of notes on brewing alone. It was as perfect as it could be. No one voiced out loud what would happen if the potion didn’t work, but Draco felt everyone’s nerves.   

Draco planned for every possibility. A habit that he picked up during the war. It calmed him to think about every possible outcome of a situation, because more than anything, he hated to be caught off guard.    

The day that they were to administer the potion turned into an event. Everyone waited on the lawn outside of the cage. Ginny even feigned sickness to miss practice. The group was unnaturally quiet.  

They laced Granger’s morning meal with her potion. No one dared say anything when she drank her blood, though everyone was watching the clock. No one said anything when ten minutes passed, nor half an hour, nor half a day. They waited watched her all day for any hint that she was ludic, but Granger remained as wild as ever.   

Draco didn’t take the non-reaction as the end. They’d reformulate. Try again. But as the day passed, it became clear that this cruel experiment had reached a tipping point that Draco hadn’t anticipated. Because as the day passed, he watched the hope drain out of the whole affair. Everyone believed in Granger so much that no one thought she would fail.   

No one was in the mood to talk about what happened. One by one they left the Manor and went to drown their sorrows in the coping mechanism of their choice. Everyone except Harry and Draco. The night was quiet, and the vampire was calm. She moved through her cage hunting for something.   

Harry looked stricken. He paced around the cage’s perimeter, the vampire following on his heels. On any other day, it would have been comical to watch the vampire stalk him like a house cat playing.   

Draco felt so bad for the bastard he attempted to comfort him. “There’s still a week’s worth of potion. It might work.” Though he himself didn’t feel hopeful about it.   

“She said it would work immediately or not at all,” Harry said.   

“She could have been wrong.”   

In hindsight it was foolish to think the first dose would work. Granger was clever but even she needed trail tests. They’d study what went wrong. They’d find some way to pull in a researcher. It almost made him grateful for Blaise and how much medical magic he knew. Almost. They could try ingredient substitutions, different combinations. Pansy’s mother funded lots of medical research. They could find a trusted advisor and have them look the formula over. He told Potter as much, but if it had any effect, he didn’t show it.   

It was the look of hopelessness on Potter’s face, rather than the failure of the recipe that made Draco’s resolve crumbled.   

Hermione  

Hermione did not have the capacity to understand what was happening. She didn’t understand why there were so many people around. She didn’t understand why they were nervous. All she knew was that they’d poisoned her blood. It smelled bad, but she was so hungry, she drank it anyway.   

The poison made her sick. It messed with her sense of smell. It made her head feel like it was buzzing, like there was something stuck in there.   

The next day her blood was tainted and the next. The world blurred as her senses began to dull. First her smell, and then her eyesight.   

If she had the words, she would have begged for clean blood, but the people who fed her didn’t notice or didn’t care.   

So, she did the only thing she could do, she stopped eating.   

Draco  

Granger was forcing their hand by not eating. They switched her back to clean blood, but she didn’t even drink that. Instead, she spent her time exploring the outdoors. She was thriving outside, besides the change in appetite. Sometimes she would sit and cock her head and listen to the sounds coming from the forest’s edge.  

Draco lied and told everyone that he was healed enough to go on guard duty. Guards were redundant now anyway. The cuffs had proven they were strong enough to contain the vampire.  

Potter was suspiciously peaceful. Though Potter’s demeanor set Draco on edge, because Potter was like him, calm only in a fight.  

“You're a legilimens?” Potter asked. The question threw Draco. Surly he wouldn’t think that there was something to gain from searching Granger’s memories. He’d never even considered trying to look into Granger’s mind because what was the point? She was a predator with intentions as clear to read as a children’s book.  

Draco could think of only one reason to try to go digging through her mind. They wanted to make sure that she was really gone.  

Legilimency was a tool that Draco did not like to use often. Aunt Bella taught him, and he could still feel her vicious scrutiny creeping up his spine when he used that particular type of magic. He didn’t even know if he could read a vampire’s thoughts. He told Potter as much.  

“But you’ll try?”  

The structure of a mind was as diverse as the people themselves. Some people had thoughts like swirled like sand on a windy beach while others had structure like the Gringott’s Bank.    

Granger’s mind did not resist his intrusion. He slipped in like butter, only to find himself in a vice. Her mind was a storm, trapping his own with force like a hurricane. Draco spooked at the strength of the pull, and he searched for the connection back to his physical body. He was relieved to find it intact, though tenuous.  

Draco tried to calm himself, swirling in the torrent of her mind. The glimpses of thoughts he felt were so uncomfortably physical. He felt the acute pain of her hunger, like a veil over everything else. Other bits of things swirled in unrecognizable patterns.   

Trying to make sense of her mind was exhausting and frustrating. Draco sifted through bits of memories only to find they were gibberish. Images and sensations without meaning.  

He found one coherent string that he could interpret. When Granger bit him, it was like her brain lit up in technicolor. He was bombarded with an ecstasy so intense that it overwhelmed him. He felt warm and satiated. It was so easy to get stuck in that feeling, but he yanked himself out, holding his breath in anticipation of what came next.  

There was one moment of clarity. A pinprick of awareness. Draco. It was dim and disjointed, but it existed. Draco didn’t know whether to smile or fall to his knees in relief.  

As thoughts flew like wind, Draco observed, trying to see if there was a pattern in the chaos or an eye in the storm. Draco sifted through to some anchor and felt Granger’s thoughts solidify.  

Chaos gave way to a kitchen. Although, one could argue the kitchen itself was chaotic. There were dirty mixing bowls and opened packages strewn across counter tops. It smelled heavenly as cookies baked in the oven and permeated the flat with their smell.  

Granger sat in a kitchen chair in a cozy jumper, pouring over her notes. Draco looked for a date somewhere in the memory, but there was none to be found. Perhaps this memory wasn’t one memory but an amalgamation of them. That happened sometimes. Most people led repetitive lives and one day melted into another. Some liked to keep happy memories at the surface in easy reach if needed. This must have been Granger’s comfort zone.  

Draco peaked over Granger’s shoulder to see what she was working on. He recognized the pages from one of her autopsy notes. And there, in the stack of notebooks was the missing one that was scanned into the computer. And two others that didn’t exist in even in the blasted machine. Taken.  

But if Granger was in danger here, there was no visible indication that she knew it. She was peaceful, twisting her hair mindlessly as she read. Draco lingered longer than he should have but eventually cast himself back into the fray. Draco kept searching for more solid memories, but it was like Granger’s mind shattered. It was like the memory of her in the kitchen survived an explosion.  

A stinging sensation in Draco’s arm brought him back to his body. Draco breathed in and out, letting his frantic mind settle as his consciousness came back to the physical realm.  

“Draco?” Potter asked. He was clearly panicked.   

Draco’s own mind spun as he tried to shake off the heightened sensation of Granger's. He occulated to keep his nerve about him, but he still felt the void of hunger pulling him down.  

No matter how disoriented he felt, he wasn’t admitting anything to Potter, who was looking at him with concern.  

“I’m okay,” Draco said. He hated hoe dead his voice sounded under occlumency, but it couldn’t be helped.    

“It’s been hours,” Potter said. Had it? It was so easy to get lost in Granger’s brain. It floored him, how a witch so smart could be reduced to that mess. That wildness.   

Draco told Potter about how nebulous Granger’s mind was.  

Potter asked his question like he already knew the answer. “There was nothing in her mind to salvage?”  

Draco felt that Potter’s question was more than it seemed, and he felt like he was dooming Granger with his answer.  

“Nothing solid.” Potter’s face hardened with resolve. “It doesn’t mean that there’s nothing there. Only that I can’t access it.”  

“How long does it normally take you to access memories?”  

Minutes, but Draco wasn’t telling Potter that. He didn’t need to know how strong of a legilimens that Draco was. No one trusted powerful mind readers.  

“Depends. Never that long.”  

Potter nodded and stared into the dark, unable to meet Draco’s eyes.  

"Ron and I were talking, and we think that we should reevaluate.”  

“You think she’s gone?”  

“We tried, but we think it’s time we made the kind choice.” Draco’s blood froze in his veins. “We could test potion after potion, but to what end? She deserves to rest.”   

“There’s still a possibility.”  

Potter listened to Draco’s arguments, but it was clear that nothing was going to change his mind. If Potter chose to end it, then all the Gryffindor's would follow him. It was clear that Potter saw Draco’s resistance as little more than the death throws of a doomed campaign.  

“It’s time that we let her go.” Potter’s tone gave no room for argument. Soft in its delivery but forged with an unbreakable resolve. “Can you, after tonight, tell me with confidence that she’s in there?”  

Draco’s silence said everything words couldn’t. He appeared calm but internally he wanted to scream. His frustration threated to knock down the walls of his occlumency. He wanted to tell Harry no. That they hadn’t tried for enough time, but his occlumency forced him into logical thought.  

What would fighting accomplish? Nothing. Doing this in the first place was a mad idea. Keeping up the fight with no direction would be little more than a vanity project. And Draco couldn’t disagree that perhaps the kindest thing to do was let her go. Because why did it matter to him? Because if Granger was at all conscious of the state of her mind, it must be hell.  

Draco debated whether to tell Potter about the one thread of thought she’d had but decided against it. Because even Draco, so willing to keep this madness up earlier in the day, felt there was nothing to salvage. How did one come back from that? It would be kinder to end it.  

The occulation calmed Draco down enough to ask the question he was too afraid to ask but desperately needed to know.   

“When?”  

"In a few days.”   

Chapter Text

Draco  

They’d considered everything before making a decision, talked everything to death, documented what they learned so that there would be no missed opportunities before making such a permanent decision. It felt like the right choice, the kind choice. And still, no one was ready to let her go.    

One by one, everyone in the group said their goodbyes to someone who would never understand them. Even Neville found his courage to see her at the end. Like the twisting of a knife, the vampire felt the somber feeling in the air, and she stayed at the front of the cage, as close and as calm as she’d ever been. Like she knew, like she too was saying goodbye.  

Even Draco said his goodbyes. Though Draco felt silly because he didn’t know her. Not really. Though he felt like he did. Or at least he felt he understood her.    

“You looked really nice that day in your office. Maybe nothing would be different but at least you would have known.”  

No one wanted to go home, and they hung around the Manor, looking for slight comfort of having other grieving people around. Potter, especially, was coming apart at the seams. Draco felt that it was irresponsible to let them remain in such a sorry state and opened the liquor cabinet.  

They congregated in the informal parlor, in the family’s quarters, as his mother called them. It was much more modern than the rest of the house.  

Potter looked rather lost, sinking into the leather chair and clutching his glass of scotch like it was anchoring him to the Earth. Ron tried to put on a brave face. Ginny was uncharacteristically quiet. Neville looked like he wanted to leave.  

Inevitably, once everyone was numb and hazy from liquor, the conversation turned to Granger.   

There was nothing that Pansy, Tori and Draco could do but witness their pain. They spent the night sharing their stories of her. Every kind, clever, ruthless memory they had. Proof that she’d live beyond her life cut short.    

“I still can’t believe that this is where it ends,” Potter said.   

Ginny gave a sad smile. “We almost lost her so many times, I didn’t think that it was possible.”  

“She was a tough thing,” Harry said.   

It was a beautiful collection of memories about a remarkable girl. Sometimes they even laughed.  

Draco kept everyone’s glasses full.    

Ron kept his feelings close to his chest, but even he had words. Words from her first love, but her best friend.  

Harry’s voice went soft as he turned towards Draco. “We appreciate that you gave her a chance. Even if...even if it didn’t end well.”  

Draco found himself unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “It felt like the least that I could do after…I wish I had been kinder to her.”   

“You didn’t…”  

“Don’t make excuses for me Potter. Save your breath.”   

Potter nodded.  

And they continued on, never running out of stories. The night blended together after too many scotches, and Draco felt blissfully numb.  

Sometime that night, Draco ran into Potter hugging Ginny in the hallway. He tried to give them privacy, but in the brief glance, he saw them bent together, seeking each other for comfort. If anything, good could come out of this, Draco thought, maybe it could be that.  

With no one sober enough to tell a good story, they reverted to reading the margins of Granger’s works. Thoughts and quotes. Whatever book she was reading. The grocery list for the day.  

Draco vaguely remembered the conversation that he had with Pansy on his couch, when no one else was listening.  

“Did you effectively drown all of your sorrows?” Pansy said.   

“Why would I have sorrows?” Draco said. He slouched forward with his hands on his knees, looking at Hermione’s journal as if it held all the keys to the universe.  

Pansy gave him an incredulous look, though he didn’t understand why.  

Draco took another sip of his drink. “It’s going to be hard to do it, is all. I shouldn’t have listened to everyone.”  

“I’m not going to let you do it,” Pansy said. “It’s a cruel world that is forcing me to kill Hermione Granger, considering everything between us, but no one else could handle it.”  

Maybe it was the mix of warm and grieving feelings in the room, but Draco felt a wave of appreciation for his friend. They had each other’s backs, always, that was undeniable, but they rarely showed it.  

“Thanks Pans.”  

No one went home, and Pansy and Astoria were the only ones who made it to a bed. Everyone else passed out where they lay, except Draco whose mind refused to shut down. And he knew that he had one last chance to offer.  

Ginny’s face was red and her eyes puffy from crying the next morning. She’d managed to cast some spells to freshen up her appearance but forgot about her eyes.  

Granger cocked her head at her friend, her face almost sorrowful.  

“We’re going to hang out after this? Right?” Ginny asked.   

“If you want to.” But secretly Draco felt relieved.  

“I’ve grown use top your unhinged opinions.”   

Draco put up his occlumency walls, bracing for Ginny to yell at him from what he was going to propose. “Would you help me do something really unhinged?”     

He knew he’d piqued her curiosity. She knew mischief when she heard it. “What do you need?”   

“I need a spotter.” Draco explained his plan.   

Ginny’s eyes blew wide when Draco told her what he wanted. “What’s your goal here? Besides getting yourself mauled?”   

“I think I can bring her back.”  

Draco told Ginny the one thread of coherence that he felt in Granger’s thoughts. And though he wasn’t confident that she could come back, he wanted to try one more thing.  

He chose to tell Ginny because he felt like he had the biggest chance of convincing her to take a wild chance. But all he felt was the full anger of Ginny Weasley.  

“It’s over. It’s a stupid thing to risk your life for someone who’s gone.” He might have miscalculated how much Ginny found him valuable as a friend.  

“One last chance.”  

Ginny let out a frustrated noise. “I can’t convince you this is a bad idea?”  

“No.”  

He saw the moment her anger crumbled into resolve.  

“So, help me if you die.”  

“That’s why I have a spotter.”  

All the bluster that Draco had was gone when Draco stepped into the cage without any armor. Black eyes watched him with curiosity.     

“Hi Granger,” Draco cooed. He hoped that if he was calm, she would be too. That the mauling was a reaction to their aggression. He hoped.   

His heart pounded as Granger’s eyes settled on his pulse.   

There wasn’t a hunt. Granger wasted no time on chasing prey that was offered up to her freely, but that didn’t mean she was gentle.    

Hermione grabbed his head and roughly pushed it up, exposing his throat. She was pushing so hard Draco had to stretch so his head was in a comfortable position.    

“Draco?” Ginny said.  

“I’m okay.” He hoped. He kept his eyes on the vampire who was currently sniffing his neck. Tracking her with slanted eyes. From this close, he could see every freckle on her face. So many freckles dotting her nose and cheeks.  

She him restrained fast.  

Some instinct told him to keep talking.  

“You wouldn’t hurt me. Right? I take care you and you take care of me?”  

Draco could feel the creep of Hermione breath on his neck, it made him shiver. Even dirty and wild, she was beautiful.   

“I smell good don’t I?”  

Draco knew that the only reason that she hadn’t bitten was because of the potion he’d drank before. Her potion, administered a different way, with human blood. One more test that he hoped worked.  

Draco hissed as fangs pierced his throat. He remained motionless, frozen as a wave of pain washed over him.  

“Draco,” Ginny warned again.     

Draco reached out a hand to steady himself against the bars, as the vampire drank and drank.   

The venom burned just as much as before. He felt it in his bones, but he refused to show it. He occulemented to keep himself still. He saw every bit of ecstasy she was feeling on her face.  

Draco didn’t know how much she needed, but he knew that soon she’d take too much. He clutched his wand tighter, waiting to push her off with a spell.  

“I think that’s enough sweetheart. Don’t you think?” Draco crooned. She didn’t stop.   

Draco felt himself getting weaker and almost gave Ginny the signal.  

But the burning began to recede, and it was replaced with a pleasant warmth. Like sitting in just the right spot by the fireplace. Like liquid luck.  

And miraculously, Granger opened her jaw.  

Draco groaned from relief. Granger licked the blood off his neck. From the base of his neck to under his chin. It tickled and despite the situation, maybe because of it he laughed.   

He was so cold. He instinctively reached a hand to his neck, and it came back with a few drops of blood.   

The vampire took a finger in her mouth and sucked.   

Draco try to push any dirty thoughts out of his head, but the gesture was so filthy.   

He took the moment to lunge for the gate, and the vampire lunged with him.  

Woozy from blood loss he fell to the grass. He took a potion for blood loss, but he felt wrong. Something in him was burning. Not the painful burn, but something warm, an ember. The ember only intensified.  

“Go clean yourself. You reckless idiot,” Ginny ordered.  

Draco nodded. He felt like he’d been stupefied. Ignited and ready to jump out of his skin as he made his way to his room.   

Adrenaline. That’s what he was feeling.  

But the image of Granger so close to him would not leave his mind. Especially the image of her sucking on her own fingers. And her touching him. He felt shameful thinking about it, so he didn’t allow himself to. One by one he listed the ingredients in the potion he knew by heart.  

Draco took the coldest shower he possibly could as he tried to calm himself. Water like ice was the only thing that doused the burning sensation.  

Draco slunk back to the cage, in clean clothes.  

“Are you mad?”  

Draco wasn’t in the mood to get yelled.  

“Yell at me if you must.”  

But Draco froze and smiled when he realized it wasn’t Ginny that said the words.  

Chapter Text

Hermione  

There was little that scared Hermione Granger more than the thought of losing her mind.  

Hermione’s brain frustrated her endlessly. It never stopped running. The only thing that kept it happy was throwing work at it. Constantly. All the time. She envied the people who could function without second guessing anything. She hated the pressure of being the one everyone turned too with their problems. But to lose something so fundamental to her would be devastating.  

There was pain when Hermione was bitten. Her veins burned, but that felt small compared to the agony of feeling her mind slip away from her.  

Buried, semiconscious, she felt herself break apart, piece by piece. She tried to hold onto the pieces that drifted away, to no avail. Her memories went first and then her ability to speak. Bit by bit she broke apart until there was nothing but cold instinct.  

An instinct that wasn’t hers. It felt as ancient as the Earth itself, and it demanded monstrous things from her. To hurt, to feed, to consume. Nothing satisfied it, until she tasted human blood.  

Instinctively, she knew how to pin the man down, and how to sink her teeth into the artery. She could feel the blood changing her. The fragments of her brain knit together slowly, like shattered goblet pieces reunited by a reparo spell.  

The first thing that Hermione saw when she was lucid were gray eyes. Gray like the rocks on the beach. Beautiful. That was the only word that she had, one of the first to be restored. Beautiful.   

Waves of pure pleasure rolled over her. It crackled down her spine. She was aware that every part of her body was pressing against his, pinning him in place. And she wanted more, she wanted to be closer.    

A noise broke her out of her trace. A grunt. He was in pain, and she didn’t want that. She wanted him to feel as good as she did. She drank slower, gently. That seemed to be good enough, because he stopped wincing and relaxed into her.  

When she was full, she unlatched her teeth from his neck, licking every drop of blood that spilled down his neck.  

He shivered under her touch. She wanted more of that. But the tingling sensation hit her before she could act.  

She took one step back, and he moved. She felt the loss of him acutely, but before she could reach for him again, he was behind the bars. The rejection stung. She wanted to chase him, but her body tingled enough to distract her. They’d poisoned his blood too. She wanted to rage at the thought, except that she was changing.  

Bit by bit, the storm in Hermione’s mind calmed. The whirling pieces began to fit together again.  

Awareness hit her with a force. She’d been biting Draco Malfoy. And she’d...she’d wanted... She pushed that thought down deep.    

A vampire got her, had turned her. It made her feel dirty. She wanted to scratch it out of herself. To yank the disease out by the root. Above all, she wanted her magic back. She felt it’s absence as if breath had left her lungs.  

With Hermione’s consciousness returning, came the guilt. The strongest memories pushed themselves to the front first, the ones where she was attacked, and the ones where she had massacred all of those people. What she’d done to those muggles. That was the thing that broke her. The memory of their blood on her hands, and how good it tasted to her. She’d gotten joy from killing. The thought made her sick.  

Hermione wanted to slump to the ground and never get up, but she couldn’t. Energy coursed through her veins. She probably could have ripped stone apart if she wanted to.  

To distract herself, she took stock of her body. Anything to stop thinking about what she'd done. Her body felt wrong. She felt stronger but so unlike herself. She instinctively tried to run her fingers through her hair to find it hopelessly tangled.  

“Hermione?”   

The voice was tentative and scared.  

Hermione’s eyes snapped to a red-haired girl. The girl’s face was all puffy and red from crying.  

Ginny. Her friend Ginny Weasley. Hermione tried to recall anything of their friendship, but she couldn’t. The memories were gone. Maybe they never would.  

Ginny had been crying. Hermione wanted to reach out and comfort her, but she didn’t dare. She remained frozen in place, because she could smell Ginny and to Hermione’s horror, Ginny's blood still called to her.  

Even though Hermione’s memories were gone, she knew that Ginny was her friend and that she needed to comfort her. Hermione tried to talk but her vocal cords felt like sandpaper.  

Ginny took one step toward the cage and Hermione hissed.   

“Sorry,” Ginny took a step back, surprised. “Sorry. You’re there though. Really there?”  

Ginny studied her with a fragile hope that squeezed Hermione’s heart. Hermione took at that as a good sign, that this compassionate feeling was all her.  

“I’m here. I’m back.” The sound of Hermione’s voice startled her. It was rough and grating, but she’d spoken.  

Hermione was already working out how she’d deal with things. It would be exhausting, balancing her thoughts with the monster’s thoughts.  

“I can’t believe it worked.” Ginny’s face broke into a huge smile. “How do you feel?”  

Hermione debated whether to tell her the truth, but they’d figure it out eventually. Her memory loss was not something she could hide.  

But she kept the depth of how she felt about it to herself. She knew that her friends would worry if they knew how wrong she felt. But she supposed she should feel happy that she was back. She tried to.  

Ginny tried to excuse herself to get everyone else, but Hermione turned her down. The idea of seeing everyone all at once was overwhelming.  

“Not everyone. Not right now,” Hermione said.   

Ginny nodded. “They’re going to be so happy to see you. When you’re ready.”  

Ginny’s joy only made Hermione feel bad because Ginny was excited that her friend had come back to her. But she hadn’t, not really.  

Hermione smelled him before she saw him.  

Malfoy came back with his hair wet, smelling like expensive soap. And under that, he smelled like her. He'd offered himself up to her. For what?  

“Are you mad?”    

“Yell at me if you must.” He was so flippant about what happened.  

Malfoy froze, and then his face broke out into the most devilish smirk.  

"Granger,” his voice practically purred over her name. It sounded so wrong coming out of his mouth.  

The sound set Hermione off. How dare he be pleased? How dare he.  

Hermione didn’t mean to snap, but the pure energy she was feeling set her off. She was devastated about her situation and mad at him for risking himself, and he was the perfect target. The bastard only broke into a bigger smile.  

Ginny’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them.  

“You could have died,” Hermione said, defeated. Draco smiled again. “What?”  

“You were so busy yelling at me that you didn’t even think that I might be perfectly fine.”  

Hermione crossed her arms. “Well. Are you?”  

“No. It turns out vampire venom hurts like hell.”  

“Then why are you smiling?”  

“It kind of felt like you cared about me there for a second.”  

Hermione let out a frustrated noise. Then the reason for Malfoy’s joy became clear.  

“You didn't think that it would work? Did you?”  

“I’d hoped.”    

Hermione caught his eyes then, and they were the most beautiful color of gray.  

Draco  

It seemed that the boost of adrenaline Draco felt didn’t last long. As soon as Granger was calm enough and ready to see everyone else, Draco crashed. He fought with every breath to keep his eyes open. Ginny went to wake everyone up and send them over slowly.  

Hermione must have been feeling a similar way, because she too sat on the ground. Eyes sleepy.  

Draco couldn’t remember feeling this at peace in a long while. He felt elated that his mad idea worked. Though it displeased him that Granger insisted on remaining behind the bars, caged like an animal when it was so clear that she had control of herself again.  

“You don’t have to stay in there anymore,” Draco said. He didn’t know how to interact with her. Maybe he should have kept his distance, knowing how she felt about him. But he found that hard to do.  

It took Granger a moment to answer him, like she needed time to find the right words. Her voice was raspy from disuse.  

“But what if I lose it again? What if I get out of here and I attack someone?”  

“The cuffs we’ll hold. We can put you in a room at least. As long as you promise not to wreck it.”  

Draco meant that comment as a joke, but she visible blanched.  

Granger didn’t seem at all convinced that she was ready to be let free. Her expression was impossible to read. On one hand she looked like she was ready to kill him. It was almost euphoric to see that she was returning to herself. But sometimes, she looked at him with such intensity, like when she looked at her notebooks. Which indicated that she didn’t know what to make of him.    

“Do you want to stay out here?” Draco asked.  

“Of course not.” But Granger still had that far off look in her eyes.   

When it didn’t seem like she was going to answer him, he pressed the matter.  

“What are you thinking about?”  

To his surprise, she answered him with no resistance.  

“I killed them.” The softness in her voice broke his heart.  

“It wasn’t you.”  

“I remember it. I can feel it.”  

Granger curled up tighter into a ball. Draco wanted to reach out a hand to her, but he didn’t dare.  

“Your suffering isn’t going to bring them back.”  

Granger’s head turned before Draco could register that there were people coming.  

A few at a time, Ginny sent people to the enclosure. Harry and Ron nearly broke down at the sight of their friend. The mood in the air was electric, so different than last night.  

But something nagged at Draco as they were all reunited. Granger wasn’t acting like herself. Or at least, she wasn’t acting as cold as should have around him. Sure, she’d was mad, but she was mad because he risked himself. And considering their past, that should not have been the case.  

Even that day in her office, she’d been distant. Now, she almost seemed like she was genuinely worried about him, and that wasn't like her at all.  

Draco contemplated that feeling as the venom in his veins forced him to sit down. Pansy tried to tell him to go to bed, but he refused. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d been this tired. He rested his head against the bench, only for a moment, and he drifted off to sleep.  

When Draco woke up, it was only Granger and him.  

“Are you OK?” she asked.  

“Just sleepy.”  

“You’d tell me. If I hurt you?” He didn’t answer that question because he probably would not have told her. He didn’t want her to worry. “We won’t do that again.”  

“You think anyone’s going to risk losing you again?”  

“I’ll drink it from a cup or something, but what you did was too risky.”  

“Where is everyone else?”  

“I sent them away for a little while. I needed a moment to myself. Though, Harry’s over there.”  

Sure enough, across the lawn, Draco caught sight of Potter.  

“I’m sure it’s all overwhelming.” Granger cocked her head to the side.  

“Thank you, for bringing me back.”  

“You’re really the one who did it.”  

Her eyes were still black as night, but it was remarkable how bright they were. Draco looked down when he caught himself staring. Her gaze, on the other hand, was unflinching.  

Nothing could have prepared him for what she said next.  

“Why do I hate you?”  

Draco nearly fainted from surprise. “What?”  

“I know I don’t like you, but I can’t remember why.”  

Draco’s blood ran cold.  

“And nothing that you’ve done now seems bad. You saved me. So, I can’t figure out what you did to make me dislike you so much.”  

It was bad enough to remember all those horrible things he’d said to her, but to tell them to her.  

“You don’t remember?”  

“No.”  

“We’ll work on getting them back.”  

She nodded.  

“Okay but that sounds like you don’t want to tell me.”  

“I really don’t. I’m not proud of it.”  

“Is it that bad?”   

“I’ll tell you. I promise that I will tell you. Just not today.”  

Granger nodded, so trusting, and it was that trust more than anything that made him he feel as though he was going to be sick.  

Chapter Text

Hermione  

“Do I still have a job?”   

To avoid thinking about the horrible images in her head, Hermione found herself asking Harry, Ginny and Ron a thousand questions about her situation. It was either that or attempt to untangle her hair, which she was not ready for.  

“You’re technically on leave, though your leave time is running out,” Harry said.   

“And I’m on leave because...?”  

“You drank a bad potion. The side effects were bad enough to keep you from work but not bad enough to be in St. Mungos.”  

Hermione supposed she should be grateful that her friends were professional troublemakers. They’d put together a rather convincing story given how little time they had. Even if they were putting Band-Aids on a bullet wound.  

“Who told them that?”  

“I was polyjuiced,” Ginny said. “I thought I did a convincing job of it.”    

Hermione braced herself for the next question.  

“And what did you tell my parents?”  

“We told them that you came down with a magical illness, they don’t know more than that,” Harry said. “But they call on your phone all the time to check on you.”   

“Daniel?”  

“He called a few times, and I called him back with your voice. He didn’t seem to notice anything strange.” Ginny couldn’t hold back her grimace. They weren’t the biggest fans of Daniel, but Hermione was grateful that they’d kept up appearances for her.   

As the hours passed, Hermione felt more confident in her control. Her mind seemed stable, and though her friends smelled far too good, she could deny that hunger well enough. It made her uncomfortable, but she didn’t think they were in danger from her, at a distance at least. She refused to let them get close and was grateful for the cuffs. They were an ingenious piece of engineering really, though she had some ideas to improve them.  

Draco looked bad, like he was fighting off the flu. The venom made him flushed and feverish. Potions did nothing. He tried to tough it out but eventually he gave up and went to sleep it off in his bed.  

Hermione’s temporary holding cell was in the ballroom. It was a test to see if she could handle being indoors. So far, she’d broken nothing, and she was handling herself as best she could given the circumstances. Her pride was bristled more than anything. She felt like a toddler, constantly watched and fussed over.  

Though she felt more like herself, there was also something fundamentally wrong about the way that she was thinking. It was like she was thinking with her whole body instead of her mind.   

Certain things felt too good. Biting Draco, obviously, unfortunately. But also being outside in the brush. And hearing certain sounds. It seemed that even though her mind was mostly hers again. These things felt good on a primal level.   

The next day, everyone left to go about business as usual, to keep up appearances. They left her with books and things to do, and Millicent Bulstrode as a guard.  

Hermione felt relieved by that. Of all the people it could possibly be, Hermione knew Millicent the least. And Millicent was clearly not happy to be there, which meant that Hermione was left alone. Or as alone as she could safely be.   

As Hermione settled down into the pages of research and books they’d given her, Hermione could almost pretend that nothing happened. That this was a usual day of work.   

Except that when she went to open the book, she found that the writing on the page was illegible. She flipped the pages and found that she couldn’t read any of them.   

And it was then, looking at the unintelligible ink on the page, that Hermione realized how her life had irrevocably changed.   

An unexpected benefit of being a vampire was that Hermione did not have to move. For hours and hours, she sat, without thinking. Watching the dust swirl around the floor of the ballroom.   

Hermione didn’t have to think or feel, she only had to sit and watch. Her mind was blissfully empty, listening to everything in the Manor. The house elves working in the kitchen, and the creaking noises of the old house.   

Footsteps on the wooden floor pulled her out of her stupor. But the rhythm was unusual, a step followed but a third metallic thunk. Astoria Greengrass rounded the corner with more books tucked under her arm.  

Hermione didn’t know Astoria personally; they’d only met one time at Neville’s birthday. She still had that memory. Astoria looked just as cheery now as she did then.    

Hermione braced herself for the smell of blood, but Astoria smelled unpleasant to her. Practically rancid. Hermione felt like crying with relief over that.   

Astoria did not cross the boundary but sat down on one of the chases pushed against the wall, exchanging pleasantries as she did so. Hermione didn't know whether it was habit or pretense, but at least she wasn’t treating her like a toddler.   

Hermione did not know how to be. Should she stand or sit? All of her mannerisms felt awkward, like she was learning how to be a witch again.  

Astoria fussed with her skirt, making sure that it fell neatly over her knees. Hermione didn’t know if Astoria sensed her awkwardness and was giving her a moment, but that’s what it felt like and the thoughtfulness made Hermione relax a little. Only a little.  

Hermione didn’t know what to do with Astoria. Her mouth was perpetually turned up in the most demure of smiles, like it had been trained into her. It unsettled Hermione, honestly. But Astoria was friends with Neville and had been for a long a time, which meant there had to be something good under all the polish.   

“Is Malfoy feeling better?” Hermione asked.   

“Not really, but don’t feel bad about it. Maybe if he goes down hard enough, he’ll think twice about making another rash decision like that.”    

Astoria started chatting about the most mundane things. Hermione was having the objectively worst day of her life and Astoria was chatting about books. It was so odd.  

“Is there a reason you’re visiting?”  

Hermione didn’t mean to be so snippy, she really didn’t. It was just that sometimes she said the first thing she thought of. It was kind of comforting, that that aspect of her hadn’t changed.   

Astoria didn’t seem to mind the pointed the question.   

“No motive besides boredom. It’s hard being stuck inside, and I couldn’t turn down a captive audience.”   

“You live here?”  

“For now. Only because Draco needed Pansy’s help with you and well, everyone needs help from me. So, there you go.”   

A fresh wave of Astoria’s smell hit Hermione, and she couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose at it. Hermione was horrified, but Astoria laughed as clear and bright as a bell.  

“I'm sorry I smell bad to you.”   

“I prefer it, actually. It was hard to be around the others.”   

Astoria nodded.  

“How are you feeling about everything?”  

Hermione went to launch into a list of her physical symptoms.   

“The hardest thing to adjust to is that world is too sharp. I can see everything. Everything . And I can hear everything happening in the Manor.”   

“I believe that I asked how you were feeling .”   

Astoria said it in her usual sweet voice, but Hermione looked at her strangely for a moment. The sentence was unexpected. Astoria backpedaled.   

“I’m sorry, that was rude wasn’t it? I’ve been spending too much time around Theo.”  

“No. I mean yes. It was rude, but everyone else is treating me too nicely. Is it strange if I say that it was almost nice to be snapped at?”   

“I guess. I can be as sassy as I want without fear of you biting me.”   

They chatted almost the whole day. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. But Astoria was friendly and easy to talk to. And then Hermione realized that she had someone in front of her who might be willing to answer the questions she was scared to ask her friends.  

“Would you be honest with me?”  

“Depends.”  

“They were going to end it? Right? They were going to stake me?”  

Astoria narrowed her eyes. “Yes, but under no circumstances are you going to tell them I was the one to confirm that.”   

“Fine. It’s partially in my memory anyway.”   

“Partially? You’re having memory loss issues, aren’t you?”   

“I have some memories back but not others. There are flashes and partial memories, and some come and go.”  

“Some memories came back. Maybe the other’s will?”  

Hermione took one deep breath and went predator still.  

“And I can’t read. It’s squiggles on the page to me.”   

“Oh Granger.” Hermione was grateful that Astoria said it without pity.  

“It would be fascinating if it wasn’t happening to me.”   

“It’s possible for it to be both. It's miraculous that you came back.”  

“It doesn’t feel miraculous. It feels overwhelming.”   

Hermione didn’t mean to say those words out loud. But she had and she braced for Astoria’s reaction.  

“A bittersweet miracle then.”   

“I mean, I do feel grateful that they brought me back,” Hermione said, though she wasn’t entirely sure that she truly felt that.   

“You can feel however you would like to. They’ve had a month to come to terms with this; You’ve had a day to process that your entire life is different.”   

Hermione tried to keep the thoughts at bay.  

“There’s so much to think about and I finally was on track for my life. And now I might now have a job.”  

Astoria contemplated for a moment and then with a deadpan expression told Hermione the last thing that she wanted to hear.  

“Just quit the job. Granger.”  

“I can’t.”  

“Simplifying your problems would be helpful. What are you worried about? Money?”  

Hermione wasn’t entirely worried about money, but she was worried about her agency. Part of what made her situation horrifying was that she had no control over her life for near a month. And her job was hers. But sure, she was also concerned about money.  

“I have to pay for my flat and my experiments and everything.”  

“You’re sitting on a goldmine with your research. You’ll never have to worry about money again.”   

“I know it’s a shitty job, but it was a start.”  

“Why do people always think that struggling will get them places? You’re thinking exactly like they want you to. People get to the top all sorts of ways. You’re a war hero. You’ve made a significant discovery. They should be crawling to you.” Hermione looked skeptical, so Astoria punctuated her sentence. “ Crawling to you.”   

 “No one is going to crawl for a vampire.”    

“You wanted to do research, right? You have the perfect opportunity to become an excentric recluse.”  

“I don’t want to be that.”  

Hermione would miss so much. Bookstores, cafes, pubs. Parties. She loved going to Ginny’s quidditch games. The simple pleasure of walking down the street. And there was the possibility she couldn’t think about. That even this return to sanity was temporary.    

“Everything that I worked for is gone. Overnight.”    

“You don’t know that. Sure, everything is different, but maybe not gone. The sooner you let go of how it was, the better that you’ll feel about it. Drawing this out only to come to an inevitable conclusion is not worth the energy.”   

“They’re all just so happy to me.”  

“Grieve as long as you need to. Heal as much as you can. And it will be better on the other side.” Astoria gave her warmest smile. “You need anything you tell me. I think I know the Manor better than Draco at this point.”  

Astoria put everything that she was feeling in words.  

And it did make Hermione feel just that much better. Knowing that someone else had gone through such a thing and come out on the other side as cheerful as ever. Knowing that even in the midst of a miracle, she had space to grieve.  

Chapter Text

Draco

It was unfortunate that when you need a monster to take your anger out on there wasn’t one to be found. It took two days for the venom to fully work itself out of Draco’s system, and now that he was over it, Draco was itching for a fight. But without a monster, Draco settled for taking his anger out on Crabbe.

They dueled on the lawn, casting benign spells back and forth at each other. Though, Crabbe lacked finesse in his spell casting, his brutal attack style allowed Draco to hit back just as hard. With each spell he cast, Draco felt his mind settle.

Crabbe cast a nasty stunner that Draco shielded. Draco followed it up with an expelliarmus that Crabbe dodged, leaving it to scorch a bit of lawn. The house elves would love that.

Usually, it was indecisiveness bothered Draco more than anything. He hated not having a plan or direction. He would have traded that predicament for his current one in a heartbeat. Now, he knew the exact right thing to do, the right path to take. Draco knew spells that could potentially restore Granger’s lost memories, and of course he would try them. The issue was that a part of him didn’t want to do it. He liked how Granger acted around him now far too much. He wanted that world where Granger and he didn’t have a past.

Thinking about the situation made him relive every shitty thing he did as a kid. It dredged up all the shame he thought he had forgotten. He didn’t know better then, but he did now. Having to relive those memories in his mind was bad enough, but having to relive them through Granger’s mind? Unimaginable.  He didn’t want to allow himself any pity. If he did that, he would take the coward’s way out. So, Draco cast another spell at Crabbe.

After a time, Draco’s arms started to ache. Apparently, the venom wasn’t completely out of his system. Crabbe’s body bind was the last spell that Draco could reasonably take.   A spell that Draco could usually deflect without a second thought. He took it full on. He never made stupid mistakes like that.

Crabbe unbound Draco, smiling like a right git the entire time at having caught his friend.

“You’re calling it right? I won?” Crabbe teased.

Draco merely agreed to a break. He stretched out his muscles, trying to figure out where the fatigue was coming from.

“Granger got you bothered?”

“She doesn’t remember anything from Hogwarts,” Draco said.

“Every time you bullied her?”

“Forgotten.”

Crabbe raised an eyebrow. “Then I have a chance with her.”   

Draco threw an unsportsmanlike stinger at Crabbe. Crabbe only deflected the cheap shot and laughed his booming laugh at Draco.  

“Easy. Even I have more sense than to get a crush on a blood sucker.”

“I don’t have a crush on her.” God, it sounded so juvenile, especially for the situation.  

“I never said that you did but thank you for telling on yourself. Which means I have a question.”

Draco knew he should have ignored Crabbe, but against his better judgment he let him ask what was sure to be a ridiculous question.

“You fawn over her journals for what then? Fun?”

“We needed her research to bring her back and it was fascinating to read anyway.”

“Ahh. Research. I love to make googly eyes at my research too.”

In a stroke of luck, Potter joined them on the lawn and cut off that conversation. Though Draco wasn’t sure he wanted Potter there. He did not want to deal with Crabbe’s teasing and he definitely did not want to chat with Potter. He was nice and all, but that was the problem. Potter had a habit of making even the most casual conversation heartfelt. And Draco wasn’t sure where they stood. Would Potter stop talking to him when this fragile truce was over? That was a problem for another time, but Draco knew that he didn’t want to talk to him at the moment.

“Not to be rude,” Draco started, “But I do not have the mental capacity for any non-emergency talk right now” 

“Then it’s good I only wanted to join in the dueling. If that’s alright,” Potter said. Potter looked rather like a teenager asking a girl to dance at the ball. He shouldn’t have worried. Draco perked up at the thought of that duel and offered to be his partner. Crabbe shot him an exasperated look but knew better than to interfere.

It was clear that Draco was not winning this even as Crabbe counted them down. The deep ache in Draco’s bones wasn’t normal.

Potter tested the waters with a few starting spells, but once he figured out that Draco wasn’t holding back, he ratcheted up the power. Potter was an instinctive dueler. Draco made up for this handicap by being as efficient as possible. He planted his feet to conserve energy and used more shielding spells then he normal.  

The thing instinctual duelers was that they had patterns. Though Potter was powerful, he cast the same spells over and over again. Draco countered by using a variety of spells. He cast every spell he could think of, hoping to throw Potter off balance.

Duels never lasted long, and this one certainly didn’t. Potter managed to throw Draco off balance with a quick barrage of stupefies, and Draco didn’t have the endurance to counter them.

In Draco’s desperation, he cast a powerful ventus, forcing Potter to stumble on a powerful gust of wind. Draco couldn’t capitalize with momentum. Potter recovered quickly and retaliated. Draco found himself knocked to the ground within two more hits.

Potter stared at Draco with his ass in the dirt, waiting for something. Anger maybe. It certainly would be how the old Draco would react. But that Draco hadn’t been through a war, hadn’t watched his friends die. He hadn’t figured out where his anger came from, or how unfounded his ideology had been. So whatever Potter was bracing for, the reaction never came. 

Potter offered him a hand and pulled Draco off the ground, almost like they were friends. And Draco hoped that if he could convince Potter to trust him, maybe he could convince Granger, while also knowing full well that he didn’t deserve forgiveness from any of them.  

Hermione

Hermione’s saving grace during those early days was that she was never alone. Harry was rarely not at the Manor, so much so that Draco offered him a room. Ron did his best to cheer Hermione up even if at times that meant simply sitting with her. Ginny seemed the least affected, and gladly gossiped with her like they always did, though now it was mostly Ginny providing the gossip. Her friend’s presence helped, but also made Hermione feel like she was convalescing of tuberculosis or some other disease, which she supposed she was.  

To Hermione’s surprise, she looked forward to Astoria’s visits the most. They developed a routine. In a world where she didn’t need sleep it was how Hermione told time. Astoria would have tea with her in the morning, then she would go off to do whatever she did during the day, only to come back in the afternoon to help Hermione work.

The other surprise was Knott. He of all people was the most scientific minded. Together they figured out how to attach a repulsion charm to jewelry. This meant if Hermione wore her cuffs and everyone else wore another piece of jewelry, they repel each other like polarized magnets. It meant there was no chance she could get within reach to bite. It gave Hermione more freedom and instead of having only the ballroom, she now had a wing of the Manor, though there was still a guard.

Hermione became her own lab subject. She did every test that she could think of and had Astoria document the results. Evaluating her senses seemed like the most obvious start. Hermione’s eyesight was immaculate, and her smell even better.  

Hermione could smell things from a remarkable distance. Although her friend’s blood smell good to her, she never lunged at them. The temptation to feed was strong, but never insurmountable.

Spilled blood was another matter. Her sensitivity to that was tested on accident. Pansy came back to the Manor with a cut from a fight and though she never came near the ballroom, Hermione went mad when she smelled it. It was the first time that she lost control enough to run into the barrier. Astoria had to block out all of Hermione’s senses to calm her. After that Hermione kept a vial of Astoria’s blood on her, like some kind of perverted smelling salts. In crude terms, Astoria’s blood smelled like rancid meat, killing any desire to feed.

Hermione learned new things about herself everyday and seeing at research allowed herself to keep an emotional distance from it all. It was the research that kept her moving. The work flow itself wasn’t ideal, and Hermione hated feeling like a burden, but the alternative was never finding a cure, and she had to cure this. She had to.  

Bulstrode, Parkinson and Malfoy avoided talking to her as much as they could, though Bulstrode and Parkinson stayed on guard duty.

Malfoy actively avoided her. Hermione knew that because she could smell him moving around the Manor and circling around her wing. It was for the best. She probably unsettled him as much as he unsettled her. The memory of her fangs in his neck was so vivid, that sometimes just thinking of it derailed Hermione’s whole day.

The first time that Malfoy was one guard duty she was thrown off by seeing him. Being in the same room as him felt like a special sort of torture. Hermione was wholly unprepared for the wave of emotions she felt towards him, like she was pulled to him on a physical level.

Malfoy distracted her from the work she and Astoria were in the middle of, even though he was doing nothing. He looked the picture of casual confidence, pacing slowly along the cuff line. Hermione couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. He was impeccably dressed; clothes fit exactly right, stretching ever so slightly across his chest and shoulders.

Hermione couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him. But in some echo of memory, Hermione also knew that she couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t remember why, but the feeling was so deep and steady it couldn’t have come from nowhere. And yet, Malfoy put his life in danger to help her. He could have simply staked her and been done with it.

Hermione couldn’t reconcile any of it. The physically wanting him, the mentally hating him, trying to figure out a motive for his kindness. It exhausted her.

So yes, best that they ignore each other.  

Malfoy stayed where he was at his post, and Hermione sat at the table with Astoria. Astoria read the notes and Hermione listened, but Astoria was not visibly annoyed by Malfoy’s indifferent attitude. As Astoria read over the process of making Hermione’s potion, Malfoy’s mouth formed a hard line.   

“If you’re going to make faces like you know better you might as well join us,” Astoria snipped at him.

“You’re doing a fine job of reading,” Malfoy sneered.

“Then stop leering at us.”

“I am by no means leering.”

Astoria continued reading, only this time Malfoy made a noise of displeasure.   

“Unbelievable Draco.”

Malfoy sighed. Apparently, he did indeed have something to say. He locked eyes with Hermione for a brief moment, checking to see if she was okay and crossed the boundary to where the girls were sitting.  

“It’s only that I think you skipped a page and without it the substitutions that we made make more sense." He picked through the papers on the table. “It’s honestly a miracle that you can find anything in this pile.”

Of all the things Hermione expected to feel when she inevitably interacted with Malfoy, feeling slightly insulted did not cross her mind. She was a messy worker. There wasn’t anything wrong with that.  

Malfoy found the page he was looking for and ran through the brewing notes. Hermione noted that most of it came from memory rather than the words on the page.

Any worry about what she would do when Malfoy talked to her evaporated at the mention that they’d altered her potion. “You made substitutions to my potion?”

“We had to change some of things based on availability.” Malfoy sounded almost apologetic about it.

“What did you substitute?”

Hermione didn’t mean to grab the notes from his hand. Didn’t even think about it the fact that someone else was holding it, or that the words wouldn’t mean anything to her.

Once she grabbed the paper, Hermione froze. She felt embarrassed and awkward about her impulsiveness. Without missing a beat, Malfoy grabbed the paper back from her and read the altered recipe, pointing at the squiggles as he read.  

“You took out the fluxweed? That was the binding agent,” Hermione said.

Malfoy had an amused look on his face, like he couldn’t quite believe that was the conclusion she’d come to.

“It was making the potion bind up strangely, we replaced it with dittany.”

“I thought about dittany but I didn’t think it would mix well with the dragon’s claw.”

“Well, obviously it did.”

“What concentration did you use?”

It went back and forth like that for hours as Hermione picked apart Malfoy’s brain for everything that they did and the choices they made. They talked so long that Astoria had to go off to bed. And then it was only the two of them.

“It’s funny Granger, but this interrogation process makes me feel rather like a made a mistake than did a good deed.” Malfoy’s mouth quirked up in a teasing smile.

“I am grateful. Truly. I only want to improve on what we already did.”

Hermione paused before she asked her next question, admittedly terrified of the answer. “How much of the potion do you have left?”  

“Three months’ worth,” Malfoy said. “And we have left over ingredients besides. Theo already started sourcing the next round.”

“Through legal means?”

“Does it matter?”

“I work for the Ministry.”

“And anything concerning this is a bit out of the purview of the Department of Magical Transportation. Don’t you think?” Malfoy said.

Hermione snorted.

Malfoy stared at her a little bit too long, and Hermione felt very self-conscious about the ungraceful noise that came out of her nose.  

“What?” Hermione said.

“There’s a little more brown in your eyes than before,” Malfoy said.

“Oh?” Hermione averted her gaze before she became truly uncomfortable, before her new impulsive personality did something that she would regret. “We should write that down.”

Hermione was grateful for the reprieve from the intensity in his gray eyes.    

Luckily there was enough to distract her. The group managed to get a remarkable amount of tests done considering that she was an unwilling participant.

“I know one of your top priorities was a mree. But we were never able to get one.”

A mree? What the hell was that? Hermione furrowed her brow.

“Potter said that they’re in hospitals and obviously it was a bad idea to bring you to one of those, so that was taken off the table.”

Malfoy patiently waited for her to respond.

“You couldn’t find a what?”

“A mree. From your notes.”

Hermione wracked her mind for what that could possibly be. She laughed when she realized what Malfoy was trying to say.

“You mean an MRI.”

“M.R.I,” Malfoy repeated.

“We don’t need to go to a hospital. I have an MRI machine at my house.”

“They’re big aren’t they?”

“I shrunk it down so it would fit. I have an entire collection of medical supplies in there.”

“I’ll get it tomorrow.” Malfoy caught himself. “I mean. Is it alright if I get it from your apartment?”

“You’ve been there in my apartment?”

“A few times.”

“Oh.” Hermione knew she shouldn’t feel violated over it. They’d performed miracles for her after all. But it felt like an invasion of privacy all the same.

“We went to try to figure out what happened, and to feed your cat.”

“I know I shouldn’t feel mad. That you thought that I’d never come back.” If Hermione hadn’t been paying so much attention, she wouldn’t have caught it, but Malfoy occulated. Why in that moment, Hermione didn’t know. “When you go can you get my cell phone? So that I can call my parents?”

“Of course, but you’re going to have to draw a picture for me or something, and I don’t know if machines will work here.”

“I’ll tell you the spells to block the magic.”  

Malfoy thought for a second.

“I might be able to get you to your apartment too.”

“How?”

“I’m thinking that the muggle way would work.”  

“I don’t own a car.”

Malfoy smiled wickedly.

“Then it’s a good thing that I do.”   

Chapter Text

Hermione   

It was foolish of Hermione to think that Malfoy would be able to drive her to her apartment. Obviously, being that close to people in a metal box was a bad idea. But they tried to make it happen anyway.  

They planned and tested Hermione’s limits and planned some more. It actually felt like it could happen when Theo rigged one of Malfoy’s sportscars with a tight pattern of disks, confining her to a seat while driving. Hermione went over the route in her head over and over, meditating on the path like a prayer.  

Hermione’s hope evaporated when she felt her mind slip. One moment Hermione was listening to Astoria and contemplating the effects of vampire venom and the next she was slipping. A flicker of time and Hermione lost herself.  

On impulse, Hermione gripped the table, only for it to shatter under her fingertips.  

Astoria froze at the sound of the wood splintering.  

"Get behind the line,” Hermione chocked out, afraid that if she moved too much, she’d lose what little control she had.  

Astoria moved as quickly as she could behind the barrier, and Hermione closed her eyes so that she wasn’t tempted to pounce. It terrified her how quickly the predator drive had kicked in.  

Hermione focused only on her hands. Not how she could hear Theo’s blood calling to her, and not how much she wanted it. Only the feel of the wood grain under her fingertips.  

Only when Astoria was safety behind the line, did she dare move.  

Instinct told her to move, but she fought it. She couldn’t risk harming the paper on the table, most of which was the only copy. She cursed herself for not having copied anything.  

Hermione walked over to the wall, and sat down, back against it. Each step towards one the one spot felt like an immense effort. It was hard to move her body the way that she wanted.  

Theo locked eyes with her. Hermione knew hers must have been wild, she could feel them darting around the room, taking everything in.  

Theo tried to soothe her, but the words didn’t make sense to her.  

“Tell me what’s happening.” Hermione couldn’t if she wanted to. The hunger was pulling her under. It didn’t make any sense for her to be hungry. She’d eaten that morning.  

Theo caught the slight tilt of her head towards him, and the slight lift of her lips, revealing her fangs.  

“I’m sure I taste good but please don’t make me stupefy you.” He levitated a bottle of blood in front of Hermione.  

It was only when Hermione reached for the bottle that she noticed the splinters in her hands. The wood had embedded herself in the skin, leaving her hands shredded.  

Astoria winced at the sight of her injuries.  

“Oh Granger,” she cooed.  

Drinking the bottle of blood did little to satisfy, but it solidified her mind just enough. There was still a fog over Hermione’s brain, like she was on some painkiller.  

Theo fiddled with the cuff on his wrist, as he kept trying to comfort her.  

“I don’t understand,” Hermione said. She hated the desperation in her voice. Hated how she couldn’t figure this out. She wasn’t this sloppy.  

“It’s not your fault,” Astoria said.  

Hermione tried to respond but the words coming out of her mouth sounded like she was drunk.  

So, this was it then, there was only a slow descent back into madness if blood wasn’t working anymore. Hermione was irreparably broken.    

Pulling the splinters out of her hands at least gave Hermione something to focus on at least. They didn’t hurt because she was crazed enough to be distracted, or maybe she just didn’t feel pain in the same way. She pulled them out one by one.  

Hermione didn’t have to look up to know when Malfoy entered the room. She couldn’t decide if she wanted him here or if she wanted him far away.  

Malfoy sat on the floor, as close as he could get without crossing the barrier. “How bad are your hands?”  

Hermione held them up, and Malfoy assessed them. She appreciated that he kept his face neutral.  

“The cups of blood aren’t working, are they?” Malfoy asked.  

"Apparently not.”  

Malfoy started to take off his tracking cuff, one of his lines of protection against her. Hermione shook her head to tell him not to.  

“I wouldn’t trust me right now.”  

“If drinking from a cup isn’t working, then maybe you have to drink from a person.  

Oh.  

“You were sick two days after last time,” Hermione protested, but she did so half-heartedly. Because of course she wanted that.  

“It’s better than losing any progress we made.”  

Malfoy’s grey eyes met hers with unwavering resolve. He wasn’t scared. Hermione though, Hermione was terrified.  

There were lots of reasons why Hermione, at least the human part of Hermione, didn’t want to bite him. She hated that feeling of being out of control and letting her needs win. For someone who lived by her intelligence, letting her body lead was a terrifying prospect. She was scared of what she’d do when she was out of control near him. She was scared that she’d go too far and hurt him worse.  

The vampire part of her was already thinking about the feeling of her teeth sinking into his veins. The feeling of extasy that felt beyond anything she’d ever felt.  

“Why?”  

“So, we don't lose you again.”  

“No. Why are you willing to do it?”  

It made no sense to her that he was willing to put himself in danger out of the goodness of his heart. Nor did he seem invested in anything her research could produce.  

“You’re going to have to trust me that I owe you this. But if you’re not comfortable, Potter also offered his blood. But you’d have to wait until tomorrow because he’s on a long shift.”  

“I don’t know how long it well take me to slip again.”  

“Then I’m it.”  

Malfoy scooted over to her on the floor and crossed the barrier. Hermione wished she wasn’t conscious. At least then she could claim she didn’t know what she was doing. But she was painfully aware of everything. She didn’t know how to act.  

There had to be some way to make it less personal. The idea of her biting Malfoy’s neck again, well she wanted that too much, and he probably saw this as a purely impersonal act. He was probably repulsed by her.  

Hermione gestured for Malfoy to sit on the sofa. It was close enough to the line to bail if he needed to. Malfoy obliged. He moved slowly and with purpose, as not to startle her.  

Hermione spared one glance at Theo to make sure he was paying attention and then sat next to Malfoy on the soda.  

Malfoy sucked in his breath, waiting. Baring his neck. Hermione took his hand instead, bringing it to her mouth.   

And then, only extasy as fangs bit flesh. Hermione cradled his hand in hers as she drank.  

Malfoy whimpered at the pain, and she tried to be gentler, but it didn’t work. He audibly breathed as he tried to block the pain and when that didn’t work, she watched his eyes go dead from occulation.  

When his hand started shaking, she opened her jaw. She had to fight to do it, but she was proud of herself that she could. That she had that control at least.  

Hermione dropped his hand as she forced herself to sit back, away from him. She was breathing heavily, in and out. As she tried to come back to herself. She looked over at Malfoy, trying to gage if he was alright.  

“Completely fine,” Malfoy said. He seemed to be looking her over as she was looking him over.  

They were so close that she could feel the heat coming off of him. It made her want to crawl into his lap, to tilt her head towards him and see if he’d close the gap. And she couldn’t figure out if this was the monster or her, the part that wanted him.   

But his pain helped bring her back to reality. Malfoy closed his wrist by casting a spell at the wound, but she could tell that he was still in pain. He kept wringing his wrist with his other hand, trying to ease the pain.  

“That hurts a lot more than the neck,” Malfoy said.  

“I’m sorry.” Hot shame poured over Hermione.  

“Don't be. There’s worse pain.”  

Malfoy looked dazed. His eyes were slightly hooded, as he tried to catch his breath.  

Hermione felt hot, like she had a fever. Like she wanted to jump out of her skin.  

But her head was so blissfully clear.  

Malfoy held his hand out, and Hermione squinted at it, wondering if he was feeling the same things.  

“Give me your hand,” Malfoy said.  

Hermione obeyed, and the touch of his skin against hers was exquisite, but she pushed that thought aside. She tried to convince herself that it was only a thought, that it didn’t mean anything.  

Malfoy noticed before she did that the wounds on her hand were healing. She watched fascinated as the skin knit itself back together.  

Hermione lifted her face to see if Malfoy had the same reaction she did, only to see him already looking at her.  

“We’ll write it down,” Malfoy smirked.  

There were still some splinters that Hermione hadn’t gotten out yet, that Malfoy picked out. He was being so careful with her.  

“I wonder if that’s normal, or if that’s because I ate.”  

“You never stop thinking. Do you?”  

Hermione didn’t even realize that he’d asked a question. Didn’t even realize that she went quiet. “I’m sorry. My thoughts come and go.”  

“Like a storm.”  

“Like a storm,” Hermione said. “How did you...?”  

“I’m a legilimens.”   

“Oh.”   

It felt like a violation. He’d been in her mind. But she didn’t want to hold resentment for the things they’d done when she was gone. She just wondered how many more surprises she could take.  

“I know a few spells that might solidify them.”  

Hermione nodded.  

“I guess the trip to the apartment is off.”  

“For now.”  

Hermione wanted to ask questions if he thought that she could fully recover, but she suddenly found herself so tired.  

“All out,” Malfoy said, as he dropped her hand. Hermione could have sworn that he rubbed his thumb against hers as he pulled his hand away.  

Chapter Text

Draco  

Draco never thought that he’d willingly offer himself up to a vampire. It seemed as implausible as Hermione being the first witch in his bed after all this time, though both happened before the week's end.  

The venom hit just Draco as hard as before. He was too dizzy and weak to pick his head up from most of the first day. And, though he tried not to, there was little else to think about except Granger. It made him feel pathetic, to be thinking about her this much.   

When Draco was a child, he thought about her because he didn’t understand her. Hermione Granger wasn't supposed to be as exceptional a witch as she was; a muggle born with more power and talent than anyone he’d ever known born into magic. It didn’t fit into his skewed view of magic. And so, like so many things that didn't fit into his parent’s view of the world, he twisted facts by thinking a circle around it.  

It couldn’t be that Granger was talented; it was that she was desperate. They’d all catch up eventually. It wasn’t that she was smarter than him, only that he wasn’t a showoff about it. How sad, really, that a mudblood was trying so hard to fit into a world that would never except her. Draco obsessed over her in only the ways that a pure blood could.  

Blood status was never something was explicitly talked about in the household, and yet it was everywhere. The amount of energy that Lucious put into trying to keep those with dirty blood down rubbed off on his son. Draco parroted his father’s idea, passed down from the dark lor himself. He thought about Granger in the obsessive way that brain-washed people did. Talk about something long enough, and it’s all you think about. Tell a child that something is bad and it’s all they’re interested in. Draco knew nothing else but blood supremacy, and he’d been wrong.  

Once Draco was open to the idea of Hermione, the real her, it was all over for him. Every false idea that he’d planted in his head about her began to fall away, flimsy and ungrounded in reality as they were. Hermione was brilliant, and ruthless. She’d put herself in as much danger as it took if it meant that it benefitted the greater good. Once she set her sights on a problem, she solved it. Her absentminded musings on the page were poetry and he fell scribble by scribble. Even as dense as Draco was, he couldn’t deny that, nor the fact that he couldn't act on anything he was feeling. How sad, to find someone that you could love, and it was impossible.  

Even if, by some trick of fate, Granger found it in herself to like him, it wouldn’t matter when she got her memories back. And Draco wouldn’t do anything while she didn’t remember their past. So that was that. His past ruined his future once again.  

Draco was almost glad for the venom, so he had something else to think about. Under no circumstances would he think about how she seemed to curl around him on that sofa, and there was no chance that he would daydream about the speck of her brown eyes swirling around in the black. No. He was happy to be dizzy, dozing in and out of sleep.        

Though the venom stung just as much as the first time he was bit, the effects seemed to fade faster. Draco was only flat on his back for one day, instead of two. Though he remained weak. The house elves tried to entice him to eat by cooking his favorite foods, but that didn’t work. The most frustrating aspect of being sick was that everyone else was in his damn house. Busy doing things while he was useless.  

Draco wondered how sustainable this was, if he was going to go down like this every time. They’d have to space feedings out carefully.  

Crabbe barged into his room, which bothered Draco to no end. Since his house had been invaded by operation vampire, his room was the only place that he had to himself. He didn’t appreciate people coming in uninvited. Unless something bad happened.  

“This better be important.” Draco tried to keep his voice calm and even, although he was wondering what could have happened.  

“Granger has something to show you,” Crabbe said.  

Not a crisis then. Draco relaxed a little at that.    

If it was anyone else but Crabbe, Draco would have trouble admitting how weak his muscles were. “It’s not going to end well if I try to walk.”    

“You want one of Astoria’s canes?”  

Draco didn’t even think that would help. “Is Granger relatively in control of herself?”  

“She’s fine.”  

“Then just have her come in here.”  

Crabbe raised an eyebrow. “You’d let her see your room?”  

“Don’t make a big deal about it.” Though Draco knew that Crabbe wouldn’t head the warning. Crabbe hadn’t listened to a command from him in a long time.  

“Put your cuff on,” Crabbe instructed as he went to get Granger.  

Draco reached over to his bedside table and put on his cuff. He also accioed a fresh pair of clothes and doubled checked that there were no sources of light coming in through the drapes.   

Granger came into his room like a tornado. She didn’t even ask if she could, just sat herself down on the foot of his bed like she belonged there. And she looked happier than the last time he’d seen her, like a weight had fallen off of her shoulders.   

“How are you feeling?”  

If Granger knew how much he was hurting she’d be reluctant to feed again, so he lied.  

“Better the second time around.”   

Granger didn’t fall for it. She wore her emotions on her face as clear as day and knowing that she’d hurt him that badly changed her whole demeanor.   

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to find a potion to neutralize it. It’s only that it doesn’t behave like any of the known poisons, but I am cross-referencing the symptoms.”  

Granger was about to launch into a rant about poisons, but Draco dragged her out of it.   

“Was that what you had to show me?’  

“Oh no. I came to show you this.”   

It was remarkable how fast she could mess up a place. Within seconds papers covered his bed spread. Draco worried that ink would get in his sheets.   

Draco had never seen an image like the ones she had. The paper was thick, with some kind of black and white picture. Draco couldn’t make sense of it, and he admitted as much.   

“These are scans from the MRI.” She outlined the image of the cross section of the brain. It was remarkable how much detail there was. Only muggles would think of something so unnatural, to see one’s insides indeed. It was practically barbaric.  

Granger arranged the pictures in front of him. “This one is my brain when it was healthy. See how there’s not a lot of space between the blobs.” She pointed to the picture next to it. “And this one is the picture of a vampire corpse.”   

That picture looked rather shrunken. No wonder no one could think as a vampire, there wasn’t much brain left to think with.   

Hermione continued to explain in that fast-paced way of hers, like she was the only one with the answers. “The portion of the brain that controls memory is shot of course, and emotional control. Most of it really. And we took this one this morning.”   

The picture that she showed was the perfect in between of the two.   

“That’s good news, right? That your brain seems to be recovering?”  

“The best news.” The smile she gave him was radiant and warm. “It means that something, likely the feedings, are working. That they’re restoring some of the brain. And I think that if we keep going, I’ll get more of it back.”   

“Then it is the best news.”   

“But not if it takes you down every time I have to feed.”    

“We’ll figure something out. Maybe something similar to the potion you’re on?”  

“We don’t have enough supply of the ingredient I would need.”  

“How did you know about the ingredient supply?”  

“You told me.”  

Draco hadn’t told her. Not that he remembered. Not when she was lucid anyway.  

“You heard everything I told you? When you were out?”  

“Yes.”  

He’d told her things as a vampire because he thought she’d never remember. His mind scrabbled to think of what he’d told her. If Granger noticed, she didn’t stop the train of thought she was on. She was acting like she just hadn’t ripped his world open.   

“I can’t physically see magic in my venom, but I can compare it to every known venom and magic. And do you know what it’s similar to? Multiplier spells. So that’s how the venom works; it multiples in your blood.”   

“Brilliant.”  

It seemed like Granger didn’t even hear the compliment. Maybe she was used to getting that particular one.   

Astoria  

Astoria could not believe that Hermione pulled it off. It was remarkable to see her fully within control of herself again and improving every day. It almost made one believe in miracles.  

With Hermione’s return came a shift in group dynamics, and Astoria put it upon herself to observe them all. She needed something to do to amuse herself after all. Little was more amusing than watching Draco trip over himself around Granger. He was usually so in control it was adorable to watch him flounder. If there was any doubt that Draco liked her, he obliterated it by inviting her into the bedroom. He barely even let Pansy in there when they were dating.  

Astoria reclined on the couch in the hallway. She told people that she liked to sit there because it had the best light, but really it had the best vantage point for spying on the people in the Manor. You could see everyone going down the hallway.  

“Theo,” Astoria called.  

“Darling?” Theo’s act dropped for a moment as he asked her if she was okay and then he went right back to his flirtatious act.   

“Why’d you tell Blaise about Granger?”  

“The guy was a wreck, and it seemed to cruel to let him suffer.”   

It wasn’t exactly the answer that Astoria wanted.  

“Why was he so worried about her?”  

“They had a fight and then she went missing. And of course, her friends tried to tell him that she was sick, but he knew that wasn’t the truth. He was worried that she’d been bitten or worse.”  

“You told Draco that?”   

“Draco’s not exactly talking to me right now, unless you count the annoying marching orders. I think that if I wasn't the person supplying the potion ingredients, he would have iced me out altogether.”   

Astoria trusted Theo more than anyone, because no matter his antics, he knew how to keep a secret. But she was scared to ask the next question.  

“Do you think Granger and Blaise have romantic feelings for each other?”  

Theo snorted. “You know Blaise’s type.”  

Indeed, Astoria did. Blaise was gorgeous and he knew it. The line up of women that he’d invited to parties over the years riveled any fashion magazine.  

“Types change.”   

Theo considered the possibility for a moment but came to the same conclusion.  

“I don’t think that they were romantic. Strictly friends.”  

“Good. Those two didn’t need something else coming between them.”   

“Don’t tell me that you want to encourage this little crush Draco’s got on the vampire.”   

“Draco hasn’t showed interest in a woman in years, of course I’m going to encourage it.”   

“What is it with you happily married people trying to set everybody up?”  

“Is it so wrong for me to want everyone else to be happy?”  

“You’ve gone soft since you married Pansy.”   

“Funny that you think the soft approach is pushing my friend towards something that wants to eat him.” It wasn’t like Astoria hadn’t thought about it. “Draco’s not helpless, and the urges she has seem to be under control.”   

“For now. Until she’s hungry again.” Astoria glared at him for his lack of faith. “And you know it doesn’t matter anyway. She’s got a boyfriend.”  

“I don’t think the boyfriend is a problem.”  

“You think a muggle can’t hold a candle to Draco?”  

“No. Have you heard her friends talk about him, they hate him. They think that she’s too good for him. And not because he’s a muggle. Apparently, he’s self-absorbed.”  

Of course, Astoria had considered the boyfriend problem. She didn’t think it was that big of a problem, though she was biased. Harry and Ron wouldn’t talk about him; both did their best to brush off the subject when she brought it up. Ginny was less subtle and called him ‘that ass.’ If Astoria had anything to say about it, Granger would figure that out too soon enough.    

“If Draco get’s mad because you meddled, I am denying this conversation happened,” Theo said.  

“What is with you single people? Never committing to anything.”  

“Who knows? Dear Draco is falling for a vampire. Maybe I’ll find a nice mermaid to settle down with.”  

Theo's sarcasm aside, Astoria wasn’t deterred. Hermione and Draco would figure out that they liked each other, they just needed time, or a slight push.  

Chapter Text

Draco  

The structure of Granger’s mind was fascinating. Her mind was settling somewhere between human and vampire, remarkably improved since Draco last used legilimency. The storm in her mind continued, but the winds blew between stable pillars of memory, like a sandstorm through ruins. Draco could have rifled through any of those memories, but he was here for that.  

Unlike the last time, Granger was here, and she was nervous. He didn’t blame her. Draco would never forget how it felt to have dear Aunt Bella in his mind. Bellatrix invaded his mind like a vine, twisting around his thoughts and choking them until he learned to push her out. Draco preferred that to when she let him practice legilimency on her. He wasn’t sure whether Bellatrix lost it before or after Azkaban, but her outward cruelty was mild compared to her thoughts. Her mind was a vile place to linger.  

Even with the slight vampirism problem, Hermione’s mind was a much nicer place to be in. You could feel her intellect as everything folded neatly into place. Every fact, every memory remained just near the surface, ready to be called upon when needed. Connections like a spider silk connected everything.    

Draco tried to be as soothing as he could, observing rather than forcing into her mind. Though, it was difficult with such an invasive magic. Having someone in your head was unpleasant, and it was bothering Granger.  

After some light coaxing, Granger told him exactly what the problem was.  "I don’t want you to know how much of a mess my brain is.”  

Draco couldn’t help himself. She’d made it so easy. “That’s plenty clear without even being in here.” He flashed a mischievous smile, hoping that would convey that it was all in fun. It didn’t seem to work. Granger looked like she wanted to slap him, but he could feel her nerves subside. It was better to be angry then sad. “Do you have any experience trying to block legilimency?”  

“I’m not good at it, but I can redirect if I need to.”   

“Do you want to learn how to do that before we try this?”  

Hermione considered this, and it was like her brain was churning. She seemed to consider every possibility before settling on her answer. “I don’t want to waste time.”   

Draco nodded, then he blocked her out so that he could concentrate. Casting a spell while already performing legilimency was delicate, and delicacy had never been his strong suit. He drew her attention to the memories that he knew were gone. He hoped to find her ability to read first.  

“Think about the earliest memory you have of reading,” Draco said.  

The winds picked up as Hermione tried to remember.  

“ Sanatio memoriae, ” Draco whispered.  

Nothing happened.  

Complete and disappointment folded through Draco, from Hermione. But he didn’t expect that self-flagellation that came along with it.  

“It’s my failing, not yours.” Draco said. He hoped he wasn’t too snippy, but he only had the power to focus on fixing things. “Maybe we weren’t specific enough. Think of something that affected your life in a big way.” If a memory was strong enough, pivotal enough, other ones might come with it. There was nothing that Granger wanted more than to rise the ranks in the Ministry. Surely that memory would bring others along.  “Maybe, getting hired at the Ministry?”  

Granger did just that. The storm in Granger’s mind swirled, but the connection between storage and recall wouldn’t form.   

“ Sanatio memoriae. ”  

The memory fluttered and then came to rest in Granger’s consciousness. The memory of being hired was not strong, but she did remember sitting at her desk well enough. There was a strong fog of daily drudgerly, pushing papers and sending memos. The moments ran together to form one amalgamation of time.   

Draco didn’t know whether to celebrate that it worked at all, or be disappointed that they might have to do this memory by memory.  

“Maybe we should try to think of something more vivid,” Draco suggested.  

Granger’s thinking mind was indeed messy. Maybe this wasn’t abnormal for her, to have chaos in here. Possibilities flew until she settled on the most logical one.   

“When I graduated from Oxford? I would have been proud that day, right?”   

As Granger tried to reach that day, Draco cast the spell again. As this day solidified, so did a block of adjoining memories.  

Relief settled over Granger’s mind and then whiplash. Draco felt Granger recoil as the memories flooded back. First was the one that they aimed for, Granger graduating from Oxford. It had been a pivotal memory for her, but not for the reasons either of them would think. Instead of pride, Granger felt relief that it was over, that she could turn back to the magical world. All she thought of was home.   

Hermione crossed the stage, collecting her epidemiology degree. Her eyes caught on her parents in the crowd, so proud of their daughter. Hermione also glanced at a tall man with curly hair in the crowd, the boyfriend presumably. The day was full of warmth, a transition, and then it was gone.  

Memories continued to solidify from the chaos, and they both were swept up in it. Letter came into focus. A Hogwarts letter, codes, research and finally the threats.  

The threats came at a relentless pace. Letters were sent to Granger’s office and house. One after the other. They threatened to burn her house down, get her fired, kill her, kill her parents. They all demanded one thing. Stop researching vampires.  

It was hard to tell how Hermi one felt about the onslaught of threats. She barely seemed to react at all, simply burning the parchment as it was delivered. Whatever she felt, it wasn’t enough to stop her.  

And then, like being doused in ice water, Granger relived the memory of turning. Fangs sank into her vein. And the pain was overwhelming.   

Ice flowed through Granger’s veins as she burned with cold fire. A scream ripped through her, too loud to only be in her mind.   

Draco tried to steer her mind away, and when that failed, he panicked. Training set in and he tried to talk her out of it.   

“Granger. It’s not happening.” He tried to soothe her, but she was stuck in the waking nightmare. “Granger.” But there was no response, she wasn’t thinking, only reliving.  

Then they were burning from within. Granger’s veins burned with the venom, as she was remade. As everything that was in her burned away.  

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry," Draco hoped that Granger understood, because was he was about to do was not going to be pleasant. He yanked Granger out of her mind, as she screamed.  

Draco readjusted to the real world as it solidified around him. He felt a fire in his blood that was never his. Draco glanced at Granger who could do nothing but shake. It took him a minute to realize what the pressure at his throat was.  

Potter pointed his wand to Draco’s throat, touching skin.    

“What did you do?” Potter asked.   

“Nothing. She got stuck in a memory,” Draco said. Potter was still reluctant to lower his wand. It was nice to know where Malfoy stood even after all this time, even after all of this. There was still no trust.  

“Help her,” Draco gritted out.  

Potter tried to calm Granger, but words weren’t helping. Her eyes focused on nothing as she took deep breaths.  

“You pushed it too hard,” Harry said.  

“Malfoy didn’t do anything wrong,” Granger snapped.  

Draco couldn’t help himself as his mouth turned up in a smile. Partially from relief and partially because Granger was defending him.  

Granger twisted her hair, and the action seemed to ground her. Draco didn’t know what to do. Under normal circumstances he would offer tea, but nothing about this was normal. He wanted that haunted look out of her eyes.  

“Do you want to talk about what we saw?” Draco asked.  

“It really was a planned attack. Wasn’t it?" she asked.  

Draco looked at Harry. “You said that you told her we thought it was foul play.”  

“He told me. I didn’t want to believe it,” Granger corrected him.    

“Do you have any idea who sent all those threats?”  

“I have no idea. It seems unbelievable that that someone would actively block medical research.”   

Draco didn’t bring up the fact that he could. Despite everything, Granger still held onto that innocence that people were good. That they deserved the benefit of the doubt.  

She looked so worn down about it, that Draco tried to steer her away from that topic. They could talk about that later, when he couldn’t hear her heartrate across the room.  

His instinct told him to keep her talking. “Why do you stay at a job that you hate?”  

Granger launched into a speech like she’d had this conversation before. “It’s a good job, and it puts me in the Ministry.” It sounded entirely too rehearsed.   

“What’s the plan there? Are you going to do to work with fangs?”  

“The plan is to stay yn leave find a cure.”  

Draco scoffed. “But you hate it.”  

“I can’t quit.”  

“I know you can justify anything with that brain of yours, but you can’t lie to me. What does your instinct tell you about it?”   

“That I have other things that I should be dealing with.”  

“Then quit.”   

You could physically see her thinking it over.   

“I can’t quit.” But he knew he had her.  

“If being a vampire isn’t an excuse to quit than what is?”  

Hermione looked almost joyous about the idea. “I should quit.”   

“You should have quit that job a long time ago,” Harry said. “Ginny would be happy to do it for you.”  

Draco felt relieved when she smiled.  

“Is it bad that I’m disappointed that I don’t get to do it myself?”  

Chapter Text

Astoria  

Ginny looked giddy to be impersonating Granger again. The lady Weasley couldn't quite capture Granger’s haughty look or the unwavering need to be correct, but if one was not paying close attention, it was a convincing charade.  

Never one to waste an opportunity, they were going to case the Ministry to see if anyone was surprised to see Granger again. The group gathered in Draco’s front hall, strategizing. Or rather Blaise was ordering people around and everyone obliged him.  

Astoria spent enough time at the Ministry that her visit would not be unusual. She came armored with her notebook full of her reports for the Ministry. They technically weren’t due for another week, but they were a good excuse to show up unannounced.      

Draco was dressed in his full uniform, trying his best to listen to Blaise and to keep his face neutral. The giveaway that he was irritated was that he was tapping his wand holster, like instead of listening to Blaise he’d rather be hexing him.  

Draco avoided the Ministry as much as possible since they passed over him for the liaison title, but there was always an excuse to visit. The Malfoys, after all, influenced politics for generations. Granger did her best to pretend like she wasn’t staring at him, but her eyes kept drifting to Draco’s rather tight, dragon leather pants.   

Blaise assigned strategic places to stand so as best to view the crowd when Ginny walked through. If they were lucky, they’d catch the shock from the attacker, as only the attacker would be surprised to see Granger there.  

For someone who’d never had a formal job, Ginny looked excited to quit one.  

“I wish I could see my bosses’ face when you tell him I’m leaving,” Hermione said.   

“Perhaps Malfoy’s got a pensieve so I can show you later," Ginny said.  

Draco huffed like he was offended. “What respectable family doesn’t have a pensieve?”     

Ron got that proud look on his face, which meant an insult was coming Draco’s way. “It's a shame there’s such a strong correlation between pensieve ownership and inbreeding.”  

Draco gave Ron a look that could wither hardwood, but Ron only gave him a boyish smile in return.  

“Better inbred than destitute,” Draco snapped back, but the old fight lost its sting. Like somewhere along the line, it became an inside joke.   

Blaise cut the bantering short by reminding everyone that polyjuice potion didn’t last forever.   

“There are enough eyes on you that I will know if you do anything rash,” Hermione warned Ginny.   

“I would never do anything to ruin your sterling reputation,” Ginny said.   

Hermione handed her wand over to Ginny. The worst of the scratches had been buffed out, but it still looked damaged. Despite the bad condition, it would get Ginny past every security checkpoint.   

Draco scrunched up his face, like he wanted to say something but was holding his tongue. Ginny glared at him. “What? What am I doing?”   

Draco checked that Hermione wasn't paying attention before talking to her. “Granger doesn’t walk like that.”  

Ginny scoffed. “Oh please, tell me how my best friend walks.” Though she was amused. Her irreverent smirk looked all wrong on Granger’s features.    

Draco ignored the obvious sarcasm, having either balls of steel or a death wish. “You’re lingering. Granger walks like she’s in a hurry.”   

Ginny’s eyes flicked to Astoria like she knew a secret no one else did. Astoria rolled her eyes back, as if to say, “ I know. He’s so obvious about it.”  

After kissing her wife goodbye, Astoria apparated. Once in the Ministry atrium, she found a seat on the edge of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, feigning exhaustion from the magic it took to get there. The cane was not needed today, but she’d brought it anyway, thinking it wouldn’t be a bad idea to look weaker than she was. Her eyes never left the crowd though she pretended to flip through her reports.   

With a pop, Draco stood in front of her. He ignored the stares of the people as he walked through the crowd. Him in leather and them in their business attire. Though Astoria noted that he was using occlumency. They’d picked a time where everyone would be leaving for lunch, so as to maximize the people walking through the halls. Some of them stared at Draco like he was a snake in a chicken coop, eyes flicking to his wrist for a glimpse of the hidden mark.  

Both Draco and Astoria watched the hearth from where Ginny would be emerging. Both didn’t breathe until they saw bushy fair emerge from the green flame.   

The skin on the back of Astoria’s neck prickled as they watched the crowd. More than one-person stopped to talk to the fake Granger, saying that they hoped she was recovering well from her illness. Ginny greeted them all with a polite nod and good morning and then made an excuse to move on.   

The Slytherins looked for any strong reaction. Everyone seemed to be going about their business without a second thought that the Golden Girl was there. And then Ginny was out of sight, making her way to Granger’s office.  

“Rather disappointing lack of reaction,” Draco said.  

“I think that if someone is clever enough to stage an attack like that, they’re clever enough to keep their emotions hidden.”   

“I was hoping we’d have something to go on.”  

“Hoping. Are we? You really are smitten.”   

Draco didn’t even try to deny it. “She doesn’t remember what I did Astoria.”    

“The past doesn’t matter as much as you think it does.”   

“Ours does.” But any feeling he had on the matter were deeply buried under the occlumency.  

“You can’t hold yourself accountable for things that you didn’t know.”   

Draco’s demeanor told Astoria that yes, he could in fact. He would suffer as long as he felt appropriate, until he felt he atoned for his horrible behavior. Current integrity be damned.   

Astoria knew she'd pushed him too hard, but she’d at least planted a seed. She was so in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the woman that came up behind her.  

“Good morning daughter in law.” The words slipped like silk against skin.  

Amaryllis Parkinson looked so like her daughter. They had the same appearance sure, but it was deeper than that. Their green eyes flickered with the same spark. It was a shame that Amaryllis was so vile.  

Without missing a beat, Astoria greeted her mother-in-law, being sure to sweeten her voice, and not show a hint of the distain she felt for the woman in front of her. Though it was easy to play nice in public. The only time Amaryllis was herself was behind closed doors and at conference rooms. You’d never meet a more pleasant person in public.   

Astoria would have liked to yell at Amaryllis for a thousand reasons. For all of the damage inflicted on Pansy. But Pansy kept trying to build a relationship with her mother, no matter how much her mother hurt her, and Astoria would do nothing to get in the way of that. Though she made her opinions on the matter very clear.  

“Your health is holding up alright?” Amaryllis’ spared a glance at Astoria’s cane.  

Astoria didn’t know who she was trying to fool with her saccharine sweetness. “Yes. No change. Thank you for asking.”   

“Fantastic news. I do pray for you to have as much time as possible with my daughter.”   

Astoria’s mouth settled into a hard line, but she wouldn’t glorify the crassness with a response.   

“I’m sure you do. We think about you often."  

“You do?”  

“Yes. We do worry about you in that big house all alone.”  

Seeing Astoria would not get riled by her words, Amaryllis turned her attention towards Draco, who she harbored just as much resentment for supporting Pansy’s disappointing choices. “Shame about the promotion dear."  

“Both of us know that sometimes the person that gets the job is not the best one for it.”   

When Amaryllis used occlumency, it looked entirely different than when Draco did. It made her beauty all the more striking, like a porcelain doll.  

“Where has you mother been hiding?”   

“She’s enjoying an extended stay in France at the moment. You know how she likes it this time of year.”   

“Of course, tell her that we miss her and give my best to my daughter.” There was so much threat in her porcelain smile.   

Grey eyes landed on Astoria as soon as Amaryllis left to gage her reaction. “Don’t let her get to you."  

“I’m not. She’s not saying anything that I don’t know.”   

“Some things don’t have to be said out loud.”   

“It’s true. I am dying and one day I’m going to leave her.”   

“Pansy knows that.”  

That was the issue. Pansy knew that too well, she thought about it too often for Astoria’s liking.  

In that Draco attitude, like life was a grand joke they all were in one, he tried to turn the mood around.   

“Too much? You can comment on my crush, but I can’t say anything about your relationship.” And damn it, when your friend had that kind of levity you couldn’t help but catch it too.  

“You absolutely cannot. You are hereby banned from any commentary.”   

And there it was, in that smirk, the flash of the boy that he used to be. “But commentary is what I do best.”   

“Save it for when we don’t have a job to do.”   

“Whatever you say Greengrass.”   

They didn’t see anything suspicious when Ginny walked back through the atrium. No one showed a hint of surprise as Granger was there. Disappointed, they lingered and then made their way back to the Manor.  

“That felt good,” Ginny said, as the polyjuice wore off. Hermione's clothes got a little bit shorter on Ginny’s tall frame.   

“What did he say?”  

“He begged for you to stay. Offered you a higher salary.” Hermione winced. “They weren’t paying you enough to begin with, even the raise wasn’t worth it. Calm down.”   

After everyone reported seeing nothing suspicious, no one quite knew what to do.  

Astoria wondered how Granger was handling this many people, but she seemed okay. Granger’s nose scrunched every once in a while, but she did not seem to be having any slips in control.   

“Well, since we’re all here together. I think that we should celebrate,” Theo declared.  

Everyone looked at him like he was crazy. “What about this failure of a plan are we celebrating?” Millie asked.  

“Granger’s freedom of course.”   

Ginny was the one that got the whiskey, and Malfoy made a snide comment about how he was going to start hiding his liquor. No one pointed out that he’d been threatening that for years and had yet to act on it.  

Theo cast a chooser charm to determine the sober vampire guard. Blaise tried to volunteer for the job, but Hermione called him a spoil sport until he caved. Hermione just might have been the only person that could get away with that sort of thing. The guilt trip worked well for her. A light rose from Theo’s wand and flew around the participants, looking for a place to land. Everyone got a good laugh when it landed on Theo.  

“Rigged,” Theo said, though he respected the spell and agreed to guard.  

It was easier to move the party than the vampire. They cleared the floor of tables and research and replaced it with cushions to sit on. Astoria didn’t drink, but she got caught up in the mirth of the night, absolutely refusing to leave her wife’s side. The cushion they shared allowed the perfect excuse to casually cross her leg over Pansy’s.  

The Slytherins used to do this sort of thing all of the time, until there was too much tension in the friend group to fake a good time. But it was a relief to have other people to split up the drama. Blaise and Draco kept apart all night. Millie sat in the corner looking like she wanted to be anywhere else until Neville of all people struck up a conversation with her. Ron and Draco played countless games of wizard chess, and Hermione watched from a safe distance away to keep them honest.   

Even Cho made an appearance. She came to the floo looking uncomfortable but holding a tin of cookies. She relaxed once she settled next to Ron, and he kissed her on the forehead in greeting. Malfoy seemed surprised by the formality of the tin of cookies but that didn’t stop him from opening it immediately. Ron found Cho a cuff and then went right back to the game.  

You would never know there was a vampire among them; everyone just went on with their night.  

Even Pansy, prickly by nature, seemed happy to gossip with Hermione and Ginny. Ginny in particular was a wealth of information, especially since everyone had years of back material. Hermione delighted in Ginny and Harry’s story in particular, as well as stories about her own escapades.  

“I did not date a professional quidditch player,” Hermione said in disbelief.  

Ginny smiled. “You still write letters to him.”  

“Do I?”  

“You minx,” Astoria teased.  

“Sadly, I don’t think there’s anything spicy in the letters.” Ginny teased. “Anymore.”  

Hermione looked scandalized by herself and changed the topic abruptly. “What’s up with Malfoy and Zambini?”  

Astoria wondered how much she should tell them before Pansy cut in.  

“You know about how Blaise got the position?”  

“Of course,” Hermione said.  

“It threw Draco into a bit of crisis.”  

An unreadable expression passed in Hermione’s face. “I’m sure that it’s disappointing that they passed on him.”  

“It’s that and more. In a way, Draco’s always been the leader, but the war shook things up. The Malfoys lost their good social stand the Zambinis picked it up. That added a lot of tension. Then Blaise got the liaison position and they've been posturing towards each other since.”  

“Ah.”  

"But I didn’t say any of this.” Pansy waited for them to acknowledge that they were sworn to secrecy. “But since you’re their new favorite thing to fight over, we probably owed you an explanation.”  

“I can keep a secret,” Hermione said.  

The best part of the party was always the end, when everything was hazy and sweet. When everyone was leaving and wondering why the hell they didn’t do this all the time.  

One by one, everyone left until Draco and Hermione were the last ones, playing wizards chess and talking in hushed tones only they could hear. Like they were in their own little world.  

Pansy curled herself around her wife and whispered in her ear. “I think they’re going to be distracted for some time. Don’t you?”  

The blush on her cheeks was the dead giveaway that the whiskey was getting to Pansy. That and the boozy look she was giving Astoria.  

“I agree. They’ll probably won’t pay attention to what’s happening in other parts of the Manor,” Astoria said, squeezing Pansy’s leg.  

The pair didn’t even say goodbye, but Pansy pulled Astoria up from the cushion.  

In the hours before daybreak, the Manor felt at peace, like everything was right in the world. Astoria tried to absorb some of that comfort for herself, but the words from earlier needled her more than she liked. This was temporary.  

Astoria didn’t know where they were going, only that Pansy had a destination in mind and that she would follow Pansy anywhere.  

Anywhere turned out to be the conservatory. They settled on the sofa that overlooked the gardens that were cast in the pleasing light from the lanterns. It reflected yellow off of the stone.  

Not that either of them were paying attention to it. They were focused only on each other. Astoria removed Pansy’s clothing with gentle hands, taking the time to relish the act.  

The bra Pansy wore looked awfully familiar.  

“Have you been shopping in my closet?” Astoria laughed.  

Pansy’s eyes burned with mischief. “I couldn’t help myself. You have great taste.”  

Astoria could not imagine that it looked as good on her as it did her wife. They were mostly the same size, except that Pansy’s curves were much more ample, and the soft skin was pouring out of lace in a way that made it very difficult to think about anything else.  

“And the bottoms?”  

“Yours.”  

“Filthy girl.” Astoria nipped at Pansy’s ear. She considered removing the set, but it was too magnificent to take off.  

Astoria teased Pansy’s mouth with her own and slipped her hand under Pansy’s lace underwear. Pansy moaned as Astoria touched the spot that she knew would drive Pansy mad. To stifle the sound so it wouldn’t carry, Pansy buried her face in Astoria’s neck.  

The tickle of breath against her collar bone sent Astoria’s body reeling. Patience . She thought. Her first.     

Pansy’s breath became ragged and uneven, as she started to squirm, and finally an exhale. Astoria kissed her on the forehead, rocking Pansy through the last throws of her orgasm.  

Pansy took care to make sure that Astoria was properly settled on the couch, knowing full well that Astoria sometimes forgot to lie in a comfortable position and suffered later for it. The sight of Pansy between her legs was too much. The moonlight danced beautifully against her curves and the lace. It was too much, too good, and soon Astoria threw her head back, closing her eyes and giving herself to the sensation.     

They didn’t stop touching after, dozing together on the sofa as the night gave way to the morning. Astoria had not slept well but would have been content to stay there forever, precisely in this moment.  

But needs were needs and Pansy looked rather hungover when she woke. Her make up ran down her cheeks and Astoria cast a few spells as Pansy would have been horrified if she could see the state she was in.  

“Let's find breakfast,” Astoria said. The house elves were happy to cook them a full meal and Pansy ate like a woman starving.  

It was moments like this that were the most precious to Astoria. And she hated that in this perfect morning after a good night, Amaryllis’ words came to her mind.  

Compared to most, Astoria had such little time. She tried more than most people realized to heal her blood curse. Just after graduation from Hogwarts, she placed herself into experimental trials and it was hell. The relatively manageable symptoms became debilitating. The choice to stop was not easy, but it was right at the time. Not wanting to waste any time that she had, Astoria merely treated her symptoms and enjoy life as much as she could.  

Pansy understood to the best of her ability, but she was also a woman that fought until she got what she wanted. It never even occurred to her that she wouldn’t get her way. She could not understand why Astoria would go quietly into her fate.  

Sitting there, drinking tea with Pansy, it occurred to Astoria that she might have one last try in her. She hated that it was at the sacrifice of her good days. But the world felt different now. A miracle occurred and it was hard not to believe that Astoria could get as miracle too. Maybe she could cure this when so many generations before had failed.  

“I’ve been thinking about going through experimental trails again,” Astoria said.  

Pansy’s face lit up.  

“You will?”  

“Possibly. I’m thinking about it. And there would be conditions.”  

"Of course.”  

“If it doesn’t work then we stop treatment.”    

“Okay.” Astoria wasn’t sure that Pansy was saying that to please her.  

“I don’t want to spend my last year's sick on some drug we’re testing. There needs to be a time limit.”  

“Of course.”  

“We’ll give Hermione a head start on herself and then we’ll ask her for help.”  

“Okay.” Pansy couldn’t help but smile, Such a rare thing on such a lovely face. And Astoria hoped that she hadn’t set either of them up for even more heartbreak.  

Chapter Text

Hermione  

Everyone waited for the venom to hit Harry, but it never did. One hour passed since Hermione fed from him and then another and nothing. He seemed fine, and it was visibly annoying Draco.   

“You don’t even feel any muscle fatigue?” Malfoy said, rather incredulously.  

Harry shrugged. “I feel like I have a mild cold.”  

The new development was remarkable. Ron went down from the venom just like Draco did, but Harry seemed to be immune. His blood was resisting the venom, and Hermione needed to know why.   

Harry took the guard spot much to Malfoy’s annoyance. Malfoy looked at him sideways every few seconds to make sure that he wasn’t falling where he stood.  

“It’s not like it’s a moral failing,” Hermione said.   

Malfoy frowned. “It annoys me that I have to be on my deathbed while he is perfectly fine.”   

“This is good news though. It means you can fight off the venom.”  

“I know but is it too much to ask for a sniffle?”   

Harry smiled at him, and they continued bantering with each other while Hermione tuned them out. She was too busy contemplating how the new bit of information fit into everything they’d learned, the annoying thing being that it didn’t.   

Vampire venom didn’t make any sense. Not the way it worked, not the way it turned people, not the effects. And not knowing things bothered Hermione. She didn’t even notice that Harry and Malfoy had stopped talking.   

“What are you thinking about?” Malfoy asked.   

“That venom doesn’t make any logical sense.”   

“Would it help to talk it through?” Malfoy asked.  

It didn’t take much prodding; Hermione launched herself into an explanation of issues she was having; the facts that contradicted each other. Malfoy sat with his elbows on knees, hands clasped, as Hermione talked. Harry’s eyes long glazed over, but Malfoy hung on every word.   

“It doesn’t make sense that it interacts with the blood so differently from situation to situation.”   

“Can I state the obvious and say that it’s magic? Of course it’s going to act differently at different times,” Harry said. Almost dismissively.  

“Even magic has rules. Potions work best for healing; dark magic leaves a stain on the soul. Like that, but this magic isn’t consistent.”  

“Your potion is working so you know something about the venom.”  

“I figured out how to treat symptoms, but not the cause.”  

Malfoy sat with his arms crossed, until he synthesized everything that he was thinking. “So vampire venom doesn’t have a binary reaction; it’s plastic. It’s not like you have it in your system so these are the effects. They vary. We just can’t figure out what’s causing the plasticity.”   

“Exactly.”  

“So, we can think of everything that could be affecting how the venom acts and rule them out.”   

It would be time-consuming, but it felt good to have some kind of plan.  

“You’re smarter than we thought,” Harry said.   

“It takes more than luck to break into Hogwarts.”   

Malfoy’s eyes flicked towards Hermione to see her reaction, like he didn’t realize what he was admitting to until it came out of his mouth. She did her best to keep her face neutral, but she’d never been good at hiding what she thought.   

Hermione knew that he was on the wrong side of the war, that he was a death eater. She wasn’t blind; She could see the dark mark and she’d read the books on the war. But that was the problem, she’d read them, her memory still had enough holes in it that she couldn’t remember it firsthand. They felt like facts from a history book.   

But Hermione could not rationalize that Malfoy was a death eater. He had bent over backwards to keep her alive and sane. No true death eater would spend all this time trying to help a muggle-born. And above all Harry and Ginny trusted Draco, and she trusted them. And she had enough to deal with as it was and would unpack the mystery of Draco Malfoy later.    

Hermione rifled through her books looking for the one about unusual magical ailments. It was annoying to adapt, but she had no choice. She’d memorized the look of all of her books to make up for the fact that she couldn’t read the titles on the spines. For her notebooks, she’d developed a fairly extensive collection of pictograms and squiggles so she could find what she was looking for.   

Malfoy graciously read everything she shoved towards him. He read so long that his voice became husky from use, that they lost track of the time. They kept going until Hermione could physically see Malfoy flagging. He blinked at the page one too many times, trying to force the words back into focus.  

“Mercy, Granger,” Malfoy dramatically put the textbook down on the table. “May I please take a break?”   

He genuinely seemed to be waiting for an answer so Hermione entertained him with one. “If we must.” Malfoy stood up and stretched at her okay.  

Hermione was not gratuitously looking at his body. She was not. She was not thinking about the strip of skin she could see when his shirt rode up. And when she couldn’t help but think lustful thoughts, she tried to justify them. It was only natural to have these feelings. He was beautiful, after all, with his lean muscle and piercing eyes. It didn't mean that anything would happen.  

To take her mind off him, Hermione babbled.   

“Maybe this is the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t need sleep. I don’t waste as much time eating. Maybe all scientists should be vampires.”  

“What a surprisingly logical take on a horrifying situation,” Malfoy said. Harry admonished him for the negative attitude. “Apologies but one miracle isn’t going to change a life of pessimism.”  

“I bet the ladies love that,” Harry teased.  

“Aren’t you free? Why aren’t you dating?” Malfoy asked Harry. He’d hit the biggest sore spot that Harry had, but he didn’t notice or didn’t care.  

“Thought about it." Harry did not elaborate, not even when Malfoy pressed him.  

“Oh, leave him alone,” Hermione said. “He’s not giving you any juicy secrets, you gossip.”   

Malfoy’s eyes turned to Hermione and her heart jumped from the full force of his gaze.   

“Help us singles out. How did you meet the muggle?" Hermione blanched at how dirty the word seemed on his lips. “Just a descriptor, no judgement. I have no other way to identify him. You haven’t so much as given me a name.”   

“ Wyatt and I met in college.”  

“And where has he been?”  

“His fellowship keeps him busy.”  

“Hmm,” Malfoy hummed, instead of giving whatever thought was on the tip of his tongue.  

“What?”  

“I’m just not that impressed.”  

Hermione didn’t want to get defensive about it, but it grated her nerves. Who was he to judge her relationship?  

“You haven’t even met him.”  

“Please tell me the fine qualities of a man who hasn’t seen his girlfriend for over a month and didn’t start knocking down doors.”   

“If you must know, we're an independent couple and like it that way. And…” She physically shut her mouth before she finished the sentence.  

Malfoy smiled a wicked smile. “No Granger. Finish that sentence.”  

Fuck it. “The sex is good.”   

Malfoy occulated before responding. “Please tell me all about this good sex that is worth being neglected over.”   

The anger made Hermione brave. “Surely you know? You strike me as the kind to have a witch in bed at all times.”  

“Guarding a vampire does horrible things for one’s sex life."  

Harry looked exasperated by the whole interaction.  

“Hermione. Hand me something to read before I start hearing details.”  

Draco  

Draco didn’t know what was wrong with him, only that he wanted to spend all of his time with a vampire. God help him, he was either in the ballroom talking to Granger or thinking about her.  

Except that Hermione didn’t pay attention to him. The only time he got her attention was when he was riling her up. Which he had to admit, was fun, but not exactly the fun he wanted. And that was on borrowed time.  

One day, when he pulled the right string, Hermione would remember why she didn’t like him, and he harbored no hope that she would like him after that.  

So, Draco read to her, and worked on her memory, and waited for the day that she wouldn’t even tease him.  

Maybe she didn't pay attention to him, but certainly her mind was used to him being there, like he was slipping past the walls that she’d put up for herself. They made more progress each time as they pulled her memories from the rubble of her mind.  

The memories that he liked to see most were the quiet ones, where she looked at peace with herself. Every else, he knew she felt the weight of expectations on her. Her parents were kind but inquisitive about her achievements. Her boss at the Ministry expected more work from her than was possible for her job. The media even was interested in the life of the Golden Girl. But in her apartment, she could just be. Draco never felt peace like that in his life and it hurt to witness.  

Draco cast spell after spell, pulling pieces of her mind together. They were in the years after Hogwarts, when Granger chose to leave the magical world behind, temporarily.  

Granger loved learning, so naturally Oxford was paradise. She spent the most time in the library, flipping through every book she had time to read. Granger lingered through the memory, and then Draco cast another s anatio memoriae. Neither of them expected what got thrown in Granger’s conscious.  

Lust, like a bombarda hit her mind. The intensity of it threatened to bring Draco to his knees.   

Draco expected something related to her boyfriend to hit his mind’s eye, but he didn’t see Wyatt. He saw himself. Him in Granger’s gaze. In his uniform, the day they went to the ministry.  

Draco didn’t know what to do. If it had been anything else maybe he could have handled it, but the surprise of it all was too much. She hadn’t been ignoring him. Quite the opposite actually.  

And then nearly as intense as the lust, shame and embarrassment. Hermione could feel it down to her toes, that she was less than for wanting.   

Draco wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know what to say. What could he? That intensity wasn’t hers. It was tainted by dark threads of vampirism. He’d seen enough of them to recognize that by now. The instincts weren’t hers. For all they knew, it only happened because she fed from him. If she wanted to move on, he would.    

Granger shoved a different memory at him to distract the both of them, or maybe to remind herself of the stakes, but Draco was only glad the lust was gone. He found himself dazed as he tried to orient himself to where she’d taken them.   

Oxford. She'd taken him to a lecture hall at Oxford. The least sensual place that she could think of on short notice.  

Draco couldn’t occulate at the same time that he was in her mind, but he did his best to keep as neutral as possible. He felt like his nerves were on fire.  He had no idea how she managed to quell that feeling. It was overwhelming, and he’d only been there for a moment.  

Hermione mentally flinched. “Can we take a break?” She was as composed as she could be, but there was something wild in her eyes.   

Draco nodded, he slipped out of her mind and made excuses to leave the room, to get away from her.  

Granger was going to kill him one of these days. Every shred of honor Draco had within him burned to ash when he felt the lust in her mind. By some miracle, he’d managed not to launch himself at her and make it back to his room. He tried to shove what he was feeling from his mind, but it didn't work. The memory lingered, begging for an outlet.  

Draco felt hot all over, and like he wanted to move. He’d never experienced anything like it. But he wouldn’t take himself in his hand, he wouldn’t. Not from her feelings. He wasn’t a vile person.  

Draco rolled onto his stomach, burying his head in his pillow. Even the slight touch of fabric against his groin was enough to illicit a moan, and then he found her couldn’t stop himself.  

It was over shamefully fast as his hips pumped into silk sheets. Just the slight touch of the silk was too much, as he spilled himself onto the bed.     

Shame, hot and heady, hit him, as he came back to his thoughts. He cleaned himself up as quickly as he could, thinking if the evidence was gone, he wouldn’t feel like an absolute bastard, but that did nothing to quell his how dirty he felt.   

God help him, he was entirely fucked. He was even starting to fantasize about the fangs.  

Chapter Text

Hermione

Hermione was euphoric.

When Malfoy slipped out of her mind, she’d been left with a lingering feeling of pleasure. Like the moment one woke up from a sweet dream or the coals of a dying fire. But she wasn’t supposed to feel that, and the pleasant warmth dissolved to bald vulnerability.  

“Can we take a break?” she’d asked. As soon as Malfoy heard the words he left. She didn’t know how to take that; whether to be thankful for the space or concerned he didn’t want to be near her. Knowing that Malfoy felt the same lust she did would have thrown her into a panic if she hadn’t caught sight of one of the hand-written pages on the table.

She could read the words. They made sense to her again.

Hermione wanted to fall to her knees in gratitude. The relief was so intense that happy tears began to stream down her face. She didn’t even know that it was possible for a vampire to cry. She felt relieved and mad and euphoric. Beyond happiness.

Millicent looked at her like she was crazy.

“Everything alright?” The last thing Millicent wanted to do was deal with Hermione’s hysteria.

“No. Not at all.”

Hermione managed to explain what was happening between strange, happy sobs. She didn’t know whether to grab the nearest book or attempt to breathe.

The part of her that felt shame over what Malfoy saw was eclipsed completely and totally with the relief she felt. Hermione was only reminded that perhaps she should be embarrassed when she smelled him approaching.

Hermione turned her eyes to Malfoy as he entered the room. She wanted to know if he was embarrassed to know that she did like him. He probably didn’t want her lusting after him like that.

But Hermione could not bring herself to be embarrassed when this was the result.

Whatever Malfoy was thinking, she’d never be able to tell through the occlumency. He let one flicker of panic get through the mask. And who could blame him? She looked a right mess.

Hermione wanted to speak before he worried too much. "I can read again.”

Draco’s face lit up with the most glorious smile, thawing any hint of occlumency on his face and replacing it with pure joy. “It worked?”

Hermione nodded. Not thinking, she threw herself in Malfoy’s arms.

“Thank you, thank you.”

She didn’t realize what she’d done until Malfoy stiffened at her touch. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” She put her hands on his chest to steady him as she pulled away, but Malfoy didn’t let her. He recovered from the surprise and only held her tighter, cradling the back of her head. And for one moment, there was nothing but euphoria.

Millicent raised her wand, unsure what to do, and Malfoy told her he was okay, but they let go of each other, anyway.

Eventually, Hermione came down from the high, and she supposed that they should talk about what Draco saw. Draco knew that she’d been lusting after him like some harlot.

“Listen,” Hermione started. She didn’t want to do this in front of Millicent, but she didn’t have a choice. She briefly considered having this conversation in her head for privacy, but that felt too intimate.

Either Malfoy read her mind or caught her looking sideways at the ever-present guard. “Millie, can we have some privacy.”

Millicent shot him an incredulous look. “Not if you’re hugging vampires.”

“I’ll put the cuff back on.”

That was an acceptable compromise for her. “I’ll be right outside the door. Scream if you need me. Don’t die."

Malfoy gave a sly half smile that did nothing to thaw Millicent’s serious expression. “Not on purpose.”

As Millicent left the room, Hermione checked in with herself and what she wanted from this conversation to find that she was too tired to be having it at all. Hermione simply did not have the mental capacity to deal with any of this. Her proverbial mental cup. She wanted to be cured and beyond that, everything else was a distraction.

And then there was Wyatt. Sometimes the normalcy of hearing him chat about his day over the phone was the only thing keeping her grounded. She couldn’t lose him. Especially when she didn’t know how much of her lust was fueled by something other than herself.

Hermione could not afford for anything to change, so she had to downplay what she was feeling. She had to make Malfoy understand that it meant nothing in the context of everything else.

“Listen,” Hermione started.

Malfoy cut her off before she could say another word. He wasn’t using occlumency. That comforted her, like he was here out here wading in the mess with her.

“Nothing has to change. Sometimes thoughts are just thoughts.” Malfoy was giving her an easy out.

But getting a piece of herself back was a powerful drug. It made her brave. Brave enough to be honest with him.

“You have so much power over me. I can’t afford for anything to get complicated. More complicated than they already are.”

“Granger. Pay a little more attention. I have an astonishing lack of power in my own Manor.” Malfoy talked in that glib way, like it was all a joke to him.  

“It’s not a joke. My life is literally in your hands.”

Malfoy's voice got all soft in the way that he only talked to her, like he was afraid of what she might do. “I would never retaliate. You're safe here. Whatever happens, you never have to worry about that.”

“Until what? Until there’s another hard choice and it gets put to a vote? Until I make a wrong move? When does it end?”

“When you find a cure.”

“And if I can’t?”

Malfoy contemplated the situation with a cold detachment of a businessmen waying his options. “Is there anything that would make this more tolerable?”

“If I was able to be in the same room as my parents and my boyfriend and not have to worry about biting them. I think it would be better.”

“You haven’t jumped at anyone in weeks. Your brain is healing. I don’t see why that can’t happen with precautions.”  

“I think that my parents would be fine, but Wyatt doesn’t even know that I’m a witch.” Hermione stalled long enough that her secret had grown.  But she would have killed to get in a room with Wyatt, because if she felt that intensely about Malfoy, surely, she felt the same about her boyfriend.

“What are you going to read first?” Malfoy asked.

Hermione was going to read the trashiest, most fantastical book she could find to finally take her mind off things, but she wasn’t telling Malfoy that.

“Please don’t change the subject. I can’t afford for things to get strange between us.”

“Things are never going to get strange between us.” The occlumency was back, and Malfoy’s eyes became an unsettling shade of gray, like lifeless stone. “It’s flattering that you think that way about me, but I don’t feel the same way about you. So, nothing is going to change.”

It was almost a relief to hear him say that. Nothing was different. She’d suppress whatever she was feeling and it would be fine.

“And there’s no shame in finding attractive people appealing.” Malfoy puffed out his chest to prove the point and whether it was meant to be funny or not, Hermione had never found him less appealing.  

“That’s perfect, keep doing that and I’ll never find you attractive again.”  

Chapter Text

Draco  

Admitting he his feelings for Granger would have been catastrophic for Draco, so he’d lied. She’d made it clear that whatever she was feeling was irrelevant, that she was leading with her head. No matter how attractive she thought that he was, nothing would happen. An attraction as frivolous as it was shallow.   

Draco thought that it would make things strange between them, but instead it felt like freedom. As a pureblood in high society, relationships were more than the sum of their parts. His friends were his friends because their parents had been friends and their grandparents before them. Relationships were transactional and mutually beneficial.  

If Granger was trying to get anything from him, she was doing a horrible job at it. Nothing about Draco was above her critique. She’d once lectured him on how inefficient his brewing set-up was. In response, Draco threw the scraps on the floor, making a horrible mess. They bickered more than they talked, and Draco relished every moment of it.  

The fear of her memories coming back was gone because it didn’t matter anymore. Draco didn’t have to be careful because nothing could happen. There were no stakes and as a result neither of them needed to tread carefully.   

Teasing Hermione was irresistible. Draco couldn’t help himself. It was especially delicious when she took herself too seriously. Like now, as she thought herself into a tizzy going over and over her experiment protocol. The one she’d been working on for a week; the one that Blaise, Blaise, Theo and Neville looked over. They were testing Draco’s blood in increments of time after the bite to see what they could glean about its interaction with venom.   

Draco used occlumency so that it was harder for her to detect the sarcasm dripping from his words. “Are you sure you’ve thought of absolutely everything?”   

Granger’s brow furrowed, as she went over her protocol again.  

“I am worried that I don’t have a way to replicate the experiment. What if the venom acts differently each bite? What if your body is developing a resistance to it? It’s just bad science to do this once.” Realization dawned on her face. “Maybe I don’t have to try to bite gently.”   

Draco's mouth quirked up into a sly smile. “Oh. Please make it hurt. I do deserve it.”     

It was a testament to Granger’s progress that she didn’t react when Neville took the baseline vile of blood. The needle pricked Draco’s skin, charmed to draw his blood into the attached glass vile. The black in Granger’s eyes swirled as she smelled blood, but she didn’t flinch. It was like the monster in her snapped to attention.  

Hermione held herself back when Draco crossed the barrier; she even managed to verbally ask permission to bite him.  

Draco demurely looked away as Granger brought her lips to his wrist. He tried not to think about how close she was. Tried not to think of how easily he could scoop her up into him. How she might even welcome it if the circumstances were different.   

Expecting the wave of adrenaline did not make it easier to ride out. Draco twitched, as Neville took another vile of blood.   

Unable to take a pepper-up potion, the symptoms hit harder than ever before. In the privacy of his room, Draco fidgeted until he couldn’t sit still anymore, having to take himself in his hand as the adrenaline overwhelmed him. And then came the crash.    

Draco couldn’t even read, he felt so ill. He just lay on his side, curled into a pathetic little ball. Every hour, Neville came into his bedroom and took his blood. It was not nearly as pleasant as the fangs, and Draco swore that each time Longbottom took longer and longer to find the vein.    

“Revenge for all of the shitty stuff I did in childhood?” Draco croaked out.   

“There’s not enough needles in the world,” Neville said.  

By the second day, the worst of it passed, and Draco could not spend one more minute in his room.    

Wearing robes outside of formal settings had gone out of fashion since the war, but sometimes Draco missed how comfortable they were. His mother would be scandalized that he was wearing sweatpants out of his room, but he was too exhausted to wear proper pants.   

Granger was at her research table, talking with Blaise. Draco thought about turning right around, but then he reminded himself that this was his Manor, so he sat down with them.   

It was the first time Draco had willingly interreacted with Blaise since the incident, and Blaise barely acknowledged him, continuing to work on the calculations he was doing. On the other side of the barrier, Theo’s eyes flicked back and forth between the wizards, watching with scandalized interest.    

Draco got a little thrill as Granger’s eyes raked over him as he sat down. He told himself that it wasn’t only because he was the guinea pig in her experiment.  

“Please tell me that we learned something." Draco didn’t need to ask the question really. The thoughtful joy of discovery shown clear enough on Granger’s face.   

“Physically, you’re experiencing the same symptoms as if you were fighting a virus.”  

Hermione showed Draco the results and explained all the jargon to him. B-cells. Antibodies. Draco was ashamed that he didn’t know any of it. Hermione didn’t seem surprised about his ignorance.  

“Wizards have a blind spot when it comes to advancements in healthcare. They’re very good at curing illness but awful at knowing the mechanics of it. Why would you care how a bone heals if it mends itself? But it leads to the persistence of magical illnesses that could have been cured if anybody bothered to study them. Plus, there’s the prejudice against dark magic and other creatures. We could be doing a lot more than we are.”   

It was a speech ready for the Ministry.  

“So, you think there’s more illness that can be cured if you take a more physical approach?” Draco asked.   

Granger’s eyes locked with his with such certainty. “I’m sure of it. Vampirism isn’t even particularly complicated, it’s just that no one bothered to look into it.”   

Blaise looked rather lost at the admission. How many vampires had they sentenced to an unnecessary death? If Hermione noticed the hesitation, she didn’t think to soften the blow.   

“The ethics of healing are maddening. The implications of being able to cure cancers in the muggle population and ignoring them. We could be doing so much more, easing so much suffering. But that’s a discussion for another day.”  

Draco drew everyone’s attention back to the present issue. “You can fix the symptoms though?”   

“Yes. A stimulant should help you fight off the venom.” Granger acted like discoveries like this happened all the time. Maybe they did when you were as brilliant as she was.    

“And we’re not happy about that?” Draco asked.  

“It doesn’t say anything about why Harry was immune."  

“Besides the obvious?” Blaise said. Granger cocked her head, like she wasn’t seeing it. Draco was glad that Blaise was the one to point it out.  “Potter is a half blood and Malfoy and Ron are pureblood.” Granger frowned deeper. Blaise redirected her thoughts before they could spiral. “I’m not saying it’s that but it's something to consider.” Granger took a breath.  

Draco felt a stab of jealousy at that. How many times had they joked about Blaise’s good looks? And he was close enough to her that she trusted him.  

“I thought of that but what about pure blood makes it more susceptible to vampire venom?”  

Blaise shared a look with Draco. “Should we tell her?”   

“It’s debunked. Fraud science,” Draco said.   

“You know better than I that they start with a kernel of truth.”  

Perhaps there was no harm in telling stories about the past now. Draco nodded and Blaise started talking, treading very carefully with his words.  

“When the dark lord was in power, he funded a litany of experiments. Horrible, dark things that no ethical researcher would attempt. He injected venoms and cast the darkest of spells on muggle, just to see what would happen. Not just muggles, but other creatures. Mermaids, vela, werewolves. More than anything, he to scientifically prove that pureblood wizards were superior. He found nothing of substance course, but he did manage to prove that muggleborn magic is different than pureblood magic.  

“We know that magic manifests differently in different people. Some people have naturally stronger magic than others and different people have talents for different types of magic. That’s not controversial. And we know that you feel a physical reaction to magic, so maybe, something about magic affects the symptoms of the venom. Maybe the pureblood magic is making symptoms worse.”  

Hermione considered the new information, trying to reconcile it with what she already knew. “What if we block the magic out entirely? Then it wouldn’t have anything to interact with. The venom would be useless.”  

Draco’s breath caught. He couldn’t voice what he was feeling, but his brain spun. It would be a cure-all for so many diseases. Rendering magical diseases benign. If it worked.  

“Is such a thing even possible,” Blaise asked.  

“I can do it with electronics, I don’t see why I can’t do that with a person,” Hermione said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. But the implications of it, to block a person’s magic.  

“It’s a lot to ask a wizard to lose their magic.” The words came out of Draco’s mouth before he realized what he’d said. “I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry.”  

God, he felt like an ass, but Granger took it in stride.   

“It doesn’t do anyone good if I deny it,” Granger said. “I did lose my magic, and you’re right it’s a lot.”  And then she went right back to brainstorming.  

They were talking over the possibilities of what could happen when Draco’s cuff went off. An all-call.   

Draco groaned. This felt like too important a conversation to be ripped away from.  

Blaise looked as confused by it as the rest of them. Fantastic. A surprise all-call.   

The three boys sprung into motion. Blaise waved his wand and was in uniform. Draco did the same.  

Hermione frowned at him. “You’re sick.”  

Draco didn’t flinch. “It’s an all-call. An emergency all-call. ”   

Wand. Back-up wand. Knife. Backup knife.  

“Come on Blaise.” Granger said it like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world that Draco was even considering going.   

“Draco would be an ineffective guard so Theo stays,” Blaise said.  

“If he can’t guard, he can’t be in the field.”  

Theo looked as unhappy with the arrangement as Granger was.  

“I’ll be alright.” Draco hoped.   

“I know you might be feeling better but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a large amount of muscle fatigue.”   

“Granger.” Draco’s slate eyes met Granger’s. “I’ll make it back. I’ll be fine.”  

Hermione looked like she’d worry about him anyway, and Draco was just enough of a bastard to like the idea of that.  

Draco was also enough of a bastard to steal a hug before he apparated. “Make some significant scientific advancements while we’re gone.”  

Chapter Text

Pansy  

None of the aurors bothered to secure the magical creatures. A beginner mistake. Pansy took an audible breath in through her nose at the complete incompetence.   

Aurors, hunters and muggle affairs representatives congregated on the lawn of a nondescript street in Southhampton. All of them staring at the spectacle in front of them.  

Someone converted an entire block of row houses in a muggle neighborhood to some sort of experimental potions lab. Muggles in the area went about their business, unable to see the swarm of doxys contained only by a simple barrier ward.  

Everywhere Pansy looked she saw doxys. Doxys on the roof. Doxys on the railings. On the windows. The stairs. The sound of wings created a dull roar. And the more Pansy looked, the more defects she saw. Burns, miscolorations, and malformities. Some sick wizard was experimenting on these things.  

To handle one doxy was child’s play, but in a swarm like this, you’d hit one and another hundred would assault you. One bite would require an antidote, three would land someone in a hospital, ten would be deadly. Not to mention tampering with the barrier would lose the swarm on an unsuspecting muggle crowd.  

Pansy’s eyes raked over her friends. Most looked alert and ready, which was more than she could say for most all-calls.  

Draco looked awful, moving in the stilted way that he did after Granger fed off of him. Pansy raised her eyebrow as if to say why are you here? but Draco only ignored her. The other problem child of the day was Millie. Millie's hair was frizzy and falling out of her ponytail which was abnormal for her usually meticulous friend. Pansy wanted to know why, except that Millie and she chose different loyalties in this stupid tiff.    

Blaise looked the very picture of authority; his new liaison badge polished to perfection. Maybe they’d chosen him of Draco simply because he looked so damn perfect in his role; a model face befitting a poster as he asked Robards, the auror in charge, the situation, as if it weren’t obvious. It would have been so easy to find Blaise annoying if only he weren’t also good at his job.  

Robards looked rather stoic considering the chaos in front of him. “There was a dark magic flare up here about two hours ago. We sent someone to check it out, and whoever was inside released this swarm.”  

“They want us to destroy the place rather than get to see what’s inside of it."  

“It would seem so.”   

“And we’re wasting time trying to figure this out.” Blaise rubbed his hand over his face, a tell that he could not think of an easy answer.  

Of all the possible fights they could be called to, Pansy hated ones like this. Impossible scenarios with impossible choices.  

It was embarrassing, the amount of people here with no plan. The best of the best was talking things out and debating. Nuking the building seemed the only safe choice, but it wasn't protocol. They’d be in talks about it forever, wasting time as the criminals wanted. Pansy rocked on the balls of her feet, waiting for everyone to talk it out.  

Unable to stand still and listen to the back and forth, Pansy volunteered to put another barrier ward up, at least to decrease the chances of muggle casualties.  

Across the barrier, the doxys watched Pansy, the buzzing of their wings lessening as they hovered near her. The poor things were starving, nothing but knobby joints. It made them more dangerous.  

A quiet sentence came through the cuff. “Can you describe the layout of the building?” Astoria spoke, but Pansy had a feeling that it was Granger. Astoria usually kept quiet during missions, letting them work. How arrogant of Granger to think that she could come up with a plan when so many people on the ground couldn’t. Draco described the situation, ever eager to please her.  

“Contain them between two wards,” Astoria said. “Make a smaller one in the bigger ward.”  

“There’s too much stuff in the way,” Pansy spoke into the cuff. “It would be an imperfect seal.”  

“You only need to get to the door.”  

Naturally Granger couldn’t resist trying to be the hero by solving the problem. It bothered Pansy that everyone blindly agreed to it. But Granger didn’t think far enough to realize that solving the problem put them directly into unnecessary danger. It wasn’t like the plan was safe. Someone would have to get inside to cast it. Pansy told everyone as much, and of course Granger had a fix for that too.  

“ Protego maxima. Triple up ."  

They would have to be perfectly timed with their casting. That didn’t make it any less risky.  

Blaise made once last attempt to sway Robards away from going in at all. “Is getting in that building worth the danger?”  

The head auror wouldn't be swayed. None of his people were going to volunteer to go into that swarm. What were monster hunters for after all? If anything, the danger of the    

And Blaise caved to what they wanted. “Then we try.” The choice of who to pick would have been obvious, or at least Pansy thought it was. To Pansy’s horror, Draco volunteered for the job.  

Draco was mad to think he was going in there. The others did this because they lived for the thrill, Pansy chose to follow them to make sure that everyone made it back in one piece. And if Draco went in there, he’d be handicapped, not to mention putting the other people in with him in danger. But before Pansy could protest, Theo apparated in front of them.  

Draco’s instant rage mirrored what Pansy felt at the sight of him. If Theo was here, then he’d left Tori with Granger.  

“I’m sorry that I was late, but now I can take one of the spots. Yes?” Theo was either completely unaware of the anger that was radiating off of both Draco and Pansy or didn’t care.  

“I gave you permission to stay back,” Blaise said.  

Theo only smiled like he was a kid caught stealing an extra chocolate frog. “You needed me here more.”  

If Draco was angry before, he looked murderous when Blaise chose him over Theo.  

But whatever feelings there were, nothing could be hashed out with everyone else watching. Like they’d been taught, Blaise didn’t push the issue further. The hunters were supposed to be a cohesive unit, a team.  

So, Pansy waited until their words were drowned out by the buzzing of wings to rail into Theo.  

“You left them alone?” Her words were short.  

Theo’s arrogance was more infuriating than anything else.  

“Astoria has the panic button if she needs it, which she’s not going to need because our vampire can’t get through the barrier.”  

“If she gets hurt...”  

“She’s safe. I wouldn’t leave her if she wasn’t.” Pansy felt her wedding ring flutter on her finger. A reassurance that Tori was there and okay and safe. It did little to calm her, but she had to focus on the task or risk Blaise or Theo getting swarmed.  

Unlike everyone else, Pansy didn’t have occlumency to help focus. She honed her anger into calm fire.  

The first protego was the most difficult, as they would have to walk into the swarm, where the doxys were thickest.  

They slipped behind the ward, as Blaise threw the first protego . In perfect synchronicity, they made their way into the swarm.  

If the screeching was loud outside the barrier, it was nothing compared to inside. The sound was deafening, loud enough to rival an airplane engine. Pansy wished she could cast something to muffle the sound, but she worried if she hesitated, the doxys would pounce.  

It took Theo a long time to set up the ward, as Blaise and Pansy covered his back.  

Pansy didn’t let her concentration waver. She felt relief as Theo expanded his ward, clearing the way to the door of the building.  

Like angry wasps, the doxys buzzed louder and louder as they were pushed into a tighter and tighter space.  

The ward expanded, allowing them clear passage to the front door. Pansy took a deep breath and prepared herself for whatever waited for her on the other side.  

The three hunters made their way into the building to clear it. It too was filled with doxys, but at least now they had the benefit of a hallway.  

The hunters switched out who was leading, doxys dropping as they went through the halls.   

They fell into a rhythm. Advance. Knockback jinx. Switch. Advance.  

Blaise even managed to kill a queen and a whole bunch of doxys fell out of the air.  

Someone desperately did not want them in here, but so far, they’d found little of consequence. Room after room was empty, the building practically desolate. It was a shell of a laboratory. Except for a few rooms that were nothing but ash. Burned in the escape.  

It gave Pansy the chills to be in such an organized crime operation. Most criminals were, luckily, bad at staying hidden. Whoever was running this lab was impeccable in their attention to detail. And judging by the state of their laboratory subjects, savagely cruel.  

They left one lab untouched. The ingredients were laid out on the countertop, and Pansy immediately recognized what they were for.  

Griffin claw. Kelope tail fin scale. Wood garlic. The ingredients were so familiar to Pansy now. They’d been brewing them for months. Granger’s vampire cure.   

Pansy’s breath caught. She looked over at Blaise, who was taking the toppers of the potion bottles and smelling them, trying to see if he could find the distinctive smell of Granger’s brew. Like lemons and sugar.  

Touching things in the crime scene was frowned upon. They were only meant to make it safe for the aurers to come in. And if they took too much time, everyone would get suspicious.  

“Look at everything,” Theo said. “We’ll look in the pensive later. Then destroy it.”   

Blaise hesitated and Theo noticed.   

“I don’t know how its connected, but they can’t find out about Granger,” Theo said. “You know what they’ll do.”  

Blaise nodded and glanced at the papers before burning them in his hands.  

The desk had a picture of a man that Pansy had never seen before, but Blaise’s eyes were fixated on it.   

“Recognize him?” Pansy asked, hoping that he didn’t, that she’d imagined the haunted look he had.  

“That’s Wyatt. Granger’s boyfriend.” Blaise’s voice was flat and dead. He burned it, just like the rest.  

The three scanned the room, looking at every paper and surface and then turning to the next thing. Hoping to glean something from the scraps, before destroying the evidence.  

They were so busy that they didn’t hear the roar coming towards them. Pansy thought at first that it was wings. She readied for the swarm to hit her, but it wasn’t doxys. They’d been too distracted by their own destruction to notice the burning smell.  

Fiendfyre burst through the hallway, burning everything in its path.   

Chapter Text

Draco  

Fiendfyre. They’d lit the place up with fiendfyre. The structure of the building ignited like gasoline to a flame.  

Draco covered his face instinctively as the flame rushed to the edge of the barrier. The creatures in the fire racing around the dome. The doxies inside screamed as their bodies were incinerated.  

No one said a word as the building burned. Draco attempted to use his occlumency to quell his horror, but it wouldn’t come. Instead, he started to shake. His wand bounced as he tried desperately to calm his body.  

They’re fine . They’re okay . He repeated it like a prayer. Over and over the same words. But if his friends made it out, they would have had to react instantaneously. Whatever could be done to save them had already happened.  

Within moments, the building was reduced to nothing but ash, and Draco was powerless as he could do nothing but witness. He prayed again that he had not witnessed his friends burn just like those doxies.  

“Report.” Draco didn’t recognize his own voice.  

There was no response from the cuff. So, he tried again if only to ease the powerlessness that he felt.  

They’re fine. They’re okay .     

Draco felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. He refused to look at Potter. Refused to. They both knew what the heat of a flame like that felt like.  

But even fiendfyre wouldn't have destroyed a building that fast. Someone put accelerants in there to remove any trace of experimentation.  

One pop and Draco’s heart skipped a beat. He turned to see Theo, coughing his lungs out, but alive. His uniform was singed, and his skin pink from the heat of the flame, but he’d been quick enough to make it out with minimal injury.  

“Sorry,” Theo managed to get out. “Apparated home first.”  

Draco set to work healing some of the superficial wounds on Theo’s arms. Just to do something. He knew there would be no relief until he saw all of his friends.  

“The others?” Theo wheezed as he spoke.  

Draco shook his head. “Did you hear them apperate?”   

“Too loud.”  

“Report,” Millie called into the cuff and was again met with silence.   

Hermione   

Hermione was physically close to Astoria as the barrier would allow, listening with rapt attention to every word that came through the cuff. She wouldn't be able to take it if she heard another report without a response.  

Astoria’s heart beat frantically in her chest. Her naked fear made the predator part of Hermione’s brain perk up, but she shoved it down as much as she could.  

“She made it out,” Astoria said confidentially. But her eyes were haunted. She kept rubbing her wedding ring, hoping for a response that wasn’t coming.  

Hermione was trying not to worry about Blaise. Blaise, who answered every question she threw at him, who she loved talking about nothing with, her unexpected friend. No, he’d just have to be alright. And like Hermione willed it to happen, Blaise’s weak voice came over the cuff.   

“Injuries?” Millie asked.   

“Yes.”   

Still no word from Pansy. Hermione wracked her mind for something to say, but she knew only the sound of Pansy’s voice could comfort Astoria now. But that seemed increasingly unlikely as more time passed.  

The only hope was that Astoria could see Pansy’s heartbeat in her ring. Pansy’s pulse glowed on the inside of the band. A hopeful blue light that proved she had made it out of the fire at least.    

Hermione wanted to say something comforting, but it wasn’t one of her strengths. She’d never wished more in that moment that she was a different person. A gentle person.  

“Pansy is...”  

Hermione didn’t know really. She knew that Pansy thought she was a threat to Astoria, and therefore Pansy didn’t talk to her. Out of all of them, Pansy was the one who treated Hermione like the vampire she was. She participated in this mess out of duty for her friends, and the hope that Hermione could help her wife. Not out of the goodness of her heart. And then the reality of their relationship hit Hermione like a ton of bricks, because she did know Pansy.  

Lost memories from Hogwarts flooded back to her. Of Pansy bullying her. Of Pansy sneering at her in class. Constantly. Of Pansy kissing Draco in hallways and sitting in class and eating in the hall. Of Pansy’s cruel way of taking a magnifying glass to your worst insecurities.  

And suddenly Hermione found the words. “Pansy is relentless.”  

Astoria nodded bravely, though her expression never changed.  

Despite their history, Hermione wanted Pansy to be alright, needed Pansy to be alright, because she couldn’t imagine her not being there. Could not imagine Pansy’s friends losing her. So, they listened, knowing that the hunters were doing everything they could to find their friend.  

But the more time that passed without a word, the more Astoria tensed.  

And finally, Astoria’s wedding ring flickered out. And as that blue light dimmed, Astoria began to fall apart.  

Hermione wished that it was anybody but her with Astoria now. She wished she was a gentler person, anyone else, but there was no stopping the reality of losing one’s partner.  

The only thing keeping Astoria together was the denial that Pansy was dead.  

But more time passed without them finding her, and it began to hit Astoria that Pansy might really be gone.  

And then the sobs began, great heaving sobs.  

Hermione rested her forehead against the barrier and watched helplessly as Astoria broke into tears. Hermione could do nothing but shush her, trying to give her any comfort she could and knowing that nothing would be enough.  

They barely heard the words over the cuff over the sound of Astoria’s crying. The only reason Hermione heard the words at all was because of the superior vampire hearing.  

“I got her,” Blaise said over the cuff. “She’s breathing.”  

If anything, Astoria began sobbing harder from relief.  

Pansy  

As the flame came at Pansy, she didn’t have the luxury to think about where to aperate to. And she’d hesitated. Her first thought was to go to the Parkinson Manor, but she second-guessed herself. She switched locations to where the rest of the hunters were.  

The mistake cost her, and the flames burned. Even as she reappeared on the pavement, she felt the heat. Pansy burned and burned.  

Pansy overshot the part of the street that she’d aimed for. Dizzy from smoke, she’d collapsed. If her lungs had not been burned, she would have been screaming. The muggles around her stared in confusion. A few even checked to see if she was alright. She tried desperately to compose herself, but she hurt too much.  

Pansy’s dragon skin uniform managed to protect her chest, but her calves and her arms were burnt so badly she could smell it. She was breathing poorly. Her lungs scorched by the heat.   

She willed herself to move, but her body would not allow her to. There was something wrong with her cuff too. The heat had done something to the metal. She could still see Tori’s heartbeat through her wedding ring, until it too failed.  

Get up . Get up damn it . But she simply did not have the strength. So, she stayed down, cheek on the hard pavement.  

And then Blaise was there.  

“I got her,” Blaise said. “She’s breathing.”  

Pansy saw the muggles confusion as Blaise cast a spell to cloak them. He cast a dolor abast and then all of the pain was gone. It felt like she was floating on a cloud. Nothing hurt.  

Blaise cast spell after spell over her body, but Pansy still wheezed, trying desperately to get air in. Talking felt impossible.  

And then everyone else was there and gawking at her. Which meant she looked atrocious. The humilitation she felt at that was overwhelming.  

As soon as Pansy’s eyes met Draco’s, he was able to slip into his occlumency. Pansy knew that he was thinking of Greg, who didn’t make it out of the fire all those years ago. Potter put his hand on Draco’s shoulder and Draco shrugged it off.  

Blaise looked bad himself, but he didn’t allow anyone to take over until Pansy was stable.   

The first thing that Pansy did when she felt just a smidge better than she was dying was to tell Astoria was okay.  

Tori’s voice was strained, like she’d been crying, like she breathed in the smoke herself. But she was yelling to Pansy over the cuff. It only made Pansy smile.  

“Love you too. Tori,” she said.  

Pansy hated all of the attention when she must have looked like a burnt ham, and Millie noticed that she was uncomfortable.  

“Give her space,” Millie said. “She’s fine.” And the crowd dissipated.  

There was some discussion over who would follow her to St Mungos and who would stay at the scene, until Potter dismissed them.  

“You all can go,” Potter said. “I think the beasts are taken care of.”   

But the thought of having all those people watching her languish in a hospital room made her ill.  

“Just Blaise,” Pansy said. She knew Draco burned with the rejection, but Pansy didn’t care at the moment. She’d apologize later. It would benefit no one to have Draco at St Mungos. As much as she wanted him there. As much as he wanted to be there.  

Pansy knew she’d made the right choice when they put in a hospital gown, and she saw the extent of the damage on her skin. Draco would have brooded for hours, years, a lifetime over it.  

Plus, there was a second motive. Blaise only agreed to treatment of his own if he was allowed to stay in the room with her while it was happening. Guilt roiled in his beautiful eyes.  

“I shouldn’t have gone without grabbing you first,” Blaise said.  

“It’s only because you didn’t that you made it out of there.” And that was the final word on that. Blaise was not one to worry.  

The moment Pansy got in the hospital bed, she completely let go. Though there was no pain, but there was exhaustion and a deep ache that Pansy felt in her bones. She felt wrong in her skin, like it wasn’t hers.  

The doctor flitted around her, examining her wounds when Astoria came into the hospital room in a fury, continuing her verbal barrage in person. But Pansy could only think of holding her.  

Pansy pulled her wife into the bed, or rather politely asked and Astoria sat down next to her. Astoria stopped talking and ran her hands through Pansy’s hair. Pansy didn’t realize how much of a burnt mess it was until Astoria touched it.  

Pansy took a labored breath and spoke. “I’m sorry the flame damaged the ring.”  

“We’re putting a flame resistance spell on it because I thought...well I thought...”  

“Not today.”    

Pansy felt a chill at how close it had been today. How close that she’d been to not making it to this hospital bed, not making it back to her wife. She wanted to be home, but the doctor explained why she couldn’t leave yet.  

“You’ll have to stay for observation. The skin wounds are mostly healed, but it would be best to get professional healing to avoid scars. The severity of the lung damage means that you might need multiple treatments.”  

Pansy sighed but agreed to stay. Hospital stays were inevitable in her line of work, but she knew her mother would be notified that she was a patient. Never mind that it was against the rules. St Mungos didn’t want to piss off one of their top donors and research partners, so the rules didn’t seem to apply to her.  

It didn’t matter what Pansy wanted nothing but to sleep in her wife’s arms. Her mother would be there shortly to fuss over her. And that kept Pansy from truly relaxing.  

Most of the time, she could forget her mother, but when she was sick, it was hard to not need her. When Pansy was ill, she was fussed over and babied. It was one of the only times that her mother would cook herself. She insisted that chicken soup made by a mother was a better cure than the same recipe made by house elves. The time her mother spent on her felt good.  

And there was always a break from the expectations of a pure-blood life when you were sick. Ill girls didn’t need to wear makeup or flirt with the purebred boys or get good grades. It was one of the only times she could truly relax. It took spending time with Astoria’s parents to realize how fucked up that was.  

As with all complicated mother daughter relationships, Pansy never quite knew how to feel about anything. When her mother didn’t come, she felt abandoned, even though it was what she said she wanted.  

That was, until someone delivered her dinner, that was not the bland hospital food she expected.  

The soup came with a rolled-up piece of parchment on the tray. A note from Pansy’s mother.  

“I understand you need time away from me but know that I am always thinking of you. Feel better, my little flower.”  

Pansy fell asleep as Tori stroked her hair, not ready to process her mother’s note, but knowing that her mother might finally be respecting her wishes felt like hope.  

Chapter Text

Draco  

The minute that Draco made it back to the Manor, he checked every ward on the property. The Manor was secure, but that could always be improved upon. Someone was much too interested in Granger, and he’d be damned if they got past him.   

Draco felt like the world shifted under him as Theo explained what they’d found in the lab. Harry and Ron were slow to connect the lab and Granger’s attack, but Draco was already three steps beyond that. He was furious that the attacker was right there and had slipped through their fingers. It was easier than thinking about of the fact that his friends were nearly incinerated.    

It was easier to believe that there was no connection, but he knew there was no possibility that it was a coincidence that the potion ingredients were the same. Even more frightening was the fact that Draco had no idea where the person found out about the ingredients in Granger’s potion. It was not the person who broke into Granger’s apartment because they would have a notebook with precise ingredients. Which meant there was a chance that someone was paying attention to the potion ingredients that Theo was asking around about. If there was any comfort it was that whoever was doing it hadn’t figured out the formula yet.   

The occlumency kept his feelings at bay, but his hold on his mind was tenuous at best. His patience was hanging by a thread and was not made better by trying to convince the Gryffindors not to make a bad situation worse.  

In the end it was Theo that brought up the question Draco didn’t have the nerve to ask.   

“Do you think Wyatt was involved?”  

Both Potter and Weasley didn’t think so, but the possibility that he wasn’t involved was equally as terrifying. That meant that whoever was running the lab was stalking Granger.  

Potter’s concern was written all over his face. “Someone needs to watch Wyatt and at least see what he knows.”  

“We’ll get the aurors on it. I’ll tell Robards,” Weasley said.   

Draco went still at the idea of letting the Ministry know anything about the situation.  

“You're not telling him anything.” Draco didn’t mean for it to come out so harshly. Weasley leveled his stare at Draco, looking unconvinced. “Weasley. Don’t you dare tell them.”  

“Why not?” God bless this Gryffindor naivete.   

“You think that they’ll be happy with the secret you’ve been keeping from them? That they won’t take her?”  

It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the Ministry would disapprove of them keeping a secret such as a captive vampire, let alone that telling them would leave Granger at their mercy. That it was a possibility that they’d take her away.    

Draco’s voice was authoritative as he explained all this, knowing that talking didn’t matter. He’d already made the decision. “We handle it.” Draco’s mind had already been ten steps ahead, and now the conversation was wearing him down.  

Draco wondered if he’d lost all the progress they’d made as he walked the edge of his property in a frenzy, checking and enforcing every ward until he couldn’t wave his wand anymore.  

And after that was done, he wanted nothing but to be numb. Draco contemplated checking on Granger, but he didn’t want to see anyone with his foul mood. He grabbed a handle of vodka and settled on the couch in his office. And none too soon. He’d truly pushed his body beyond its capabilities. It turned out that you could not get bitten and answer an all-call without experiencing the worst fatigue.  

As Draco drank, his occlumency started to fail him. It did not bring him the peace that he wanted.  

When Draco closed his eyes, he saw flames. Flames with creatures that chased him. And when it wasn’t fire it was charred skin. Pansy’s skin, burnt and misshapen.   

Draco took sips of straight vodka from the bottle until his mind was too fuzzy to picture anything. Until his limbs felt tingly, and he couldn’t feel a damn thing.  

But the memories of the fire wouldn’t stop playing across his mind. Of Potter yanking him onto his broom, when he could have so easily left Draco behind. The regrets of what a shit he’d been weren’t new but there was a notable addition. It was unsettling to think that Granger could have just as easily have died in that fire, and he would have never gotten the chance to know her. Not that he deserved to know her, he couldn’t even bring himself to check on her before he threw himself his pity party.  

Like Draco conjured her from his mind, Granger walked through his office door. Her black eyes did little to reveal what she was thinking. It was a shame he hadn’t appreciated the inquisitive honey brown now that it was gone.  

Granger didn’t seem to care in the least that she was intruding.  

Draco summoned every ounce of strength he had not to slur his words “I distinctly remember warding this office.” He wanted to sit up, but his traitorous body would not move.  

“I can go if you feel unsafe.”  

Hermione hovered close to the door, like she was waiting for him to kick her out. Draco only lifted his hand up to show the cuff on his wrist. She nodded.  

“I’m sorry about Pansy,” Hermione said.  

“She’s alright. She’ll be alright.”  

Draco still didn’t know whether he wanted Hermione there or gone. The vodka made his desires strong and his self-control weak. A disastrous combination. He wanted desperately to kiss her until he couldn’t see the flames anymore, until she was the only thing in his head. But that would be a horrendously stupid idea.  

He realized too late that he’d been staring too long, nor that she had been staring right back. Draco broke the stare down with a supremely graceful “what?”   

“You lied to me." Draco’s heartrate spiked for a moment. Did she know what he was feeling? Had it been all over his drunk face? He forced himself to stay calm for whatever came out of her mouth next. “You didn’t come back alright.”  

Draco took a deep breath, shaking off the fear of exposure, hoping she didn’t notice how long it took him to right his thoughts and respond.   

“Fiendfyre didn’t seem like a possibility at the time.”   

Granger was looking at him like he was something she needed to fix, and he hated it.   

“All of your friends are worried about you.”  

Draco sighed. “I’ll be sure to correct their misplaced worry tomorrow.”  

Hermione’s nose had not relaxed since she’d walked in the room. It was adorably scrunched. “You smell like you’re trying to pickle yourself.”   

“Maybe I am. Would it be so terrible?”   

“To be pickled?” She looked at him like he was mad. Draco much preferred that to the look of pity from before.  

“You should be checking on your boyfriend instead of me.”  

She seemed too nonchalant about the mention of her boyfriend.  

“I called him already.”  

“You’re not worried?”  

“I’m terribly worried, but Harry and Ron are watching him. And we both know that if whoever was watching him before wanted him dead, he would be.”  

“What if he’s involved?”  

“Wyatt wouldn’t have believed that I was a witch if I turned him into a toad.”  

“That’s very cold, Granger.”  

“I know it’s cold.” She took a long pause before speaking. “I think that something about the blackhole in my brain is messing with my ability to feel anxious.”  

“Maybe you should bite me. Merlin knows I could use more calm in my thoughts.”  

“It’s not like we learned anything new. Someone was following me, and we both know that if they wanted to hurt him, they would have.”  

“Always so pragmatic.”  

Ignoring his teasing and seeing that talking was doing little for his foul mood, she began exploring his office, starting predictably at the bookshelf.  

Granger ran her fingertips over the leather spines, like she couldn’t help but touch them. Draco had never been jealous of paper before. That was a new low.  

Draco knew he should have looked away as she did it, but he had a gorgeous view of her backside as she was turned away from him. Heaven bless muggle pants.  

Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the shabby paperbacks.  

“The Hobbit?” Her eyes crinkled with amusement at that. How funny for someone like him to have read a muggle book enough times that the pages were creased. She wasn’t going to like why that particular book was on his shelf.  

"You get really bored in Azkaban. I don't know if it was a joke, but the guards only gave me muggle books. The Hobbit was good. I lost track of how many times I read that one.”    

“And Jane Eyre was another favorite?”  

"If this is your attempt at trying to cheer me up, you are doing a horrible job of it.”  

“Is that what I’m doing? I was under the impression I hate you. By all accounts I should be happy that you are miserable.”   

A wicked question crossed his mind that he couldn’t help but to ask.  

“And do you?”  

“Do I what?”  

“Do you hate me?”  

Hermione refused to look at him, focusing on the spines in front of her.    

“I find you to be the most petulant person in existence.”  

“Petulant is such a pretentious word. I’d prefer...”  

She snapped at him. “I wasn’t finished yet.”  

“My apologies.”  

She took a deep breath before she continued. “But you've never judged me for my faults. Sometimes I think, you might even like them.”  

Draco took another swig from the vodka bottle because he did not trust anything that would come out of his mouth.  

Hermione continued to examine his book collection, in complete silence. It was like she was daring him to say something, but he didn’t take the bait. And having enough silence, she excused herself and went to leave.  

Draco felt panic at that. He’d decided, he wanted her in the room. He wanted her there every moment she’d have him. Until she found out about their past or until she grew tired of him. And he didn’t care how much of a bastard that made him.  

“Hermione?”  

“Hmm?”   

Having got her attention, he realized he didn’t know what to say to keep her there. Or at least he had nothing that would entice her to stay and not make him out to be a complete prat. So he voiced the naked want instead.  

“Will you stay and talk with me?”  

“Of course.”  

And dammit if that that didn’t rattle him, that all he needed to do was ask for something from her and she would so freely give it.  

She listened and tolerated his drunk ramblings until he was sedate and sleepy. Until he couldn’t talk anymore, and she told him stories of her own. And it was good, just to talk like this. It felt like they could talk forever.  

But she didn’t forget that he was hurting, and her being stubborn as she was, couldn’t help but bring it up again.  

“Why did tonight rattle you so badly?”  

“I lost a friend to fiendfyre.”  

“Do you want to talk about him?”   

“He was the most loyal person I’d ever met, and I was a shit friend to him.”  

And there it was. The reason he was being so hard on himself.  

For once Hermione had no opinion on the matter. She only waited for him to continue.  

“He cracked. He completely and totally cracked under the pressure of our situation.” He took one more swig from the bottle. “And I wonder if maybe I’d been kinder to him at the time. If I’d told him how scared I also was, that maybe the both of us would be here.”  

“Draco,” Hermione whispered.  

“After he died no one cared. It was like his death was expected. I watched your side mourn over each and every person that was gone. And Crabbe was simply forgotten about. Like our lives were nothing.”   

Hermione stretched her hand like she wanted to comfort him. She probably meant to only offer him a hand, but He wanted nothing more than to pull her onto the sofa with him and let her hold him. But even in his stupor he knew that hugging a vampire was a bad choice in his current state.  

“I'm too drunk to defend myself effectively.”  

She nodded, but her face fell at the realization. He hated that he made her feel anything less than human.  

Instead of the physical comfort that he would have much preferred she tried to comfort him with cold hard truth.    

“It’s one thing to grieve, but I don’t want to sit around and watch you mentally flog yourself.”  

“I’ve always been a coward Granger.”  

“I think it’s the least cowardly thing that you can do. To relearn everything, you’ve ever known.”  

And then his body finally hit its wall of exhaustion. Draco felt the words sitting heavier in his mouth, as he drifted off to sleep, still trying to talk to her. He fell asleep because he didn’t have the strength to be awake anymore. And it was a comfort to him simply to know that she was there. His very own guardian monster.  

Draco woke up with a horrendous headache on the couch. Granger, ever true to her word had stayed the entire night. Reading his copy of Jane Eyre in his desk chair.  

“You didn’t kill me in my sleep,” Draco mused.   

“Maybe another day.”   

Chapter Text

Hermione  

“I get to pick my room,” Hermione said.   

“That’s fine,” Malfoy said, his gaze focused on the road in front of him.   

“And the gardens should be included in the bounds of where I can go.”   

“Fine.”  

“And...”  

“Granger.” Hearing her name coming from Malfoy’s voice always made Hermione perk up in ways that she wasn’t ready to think about. She went silent. “No one is fighting you on this.”   

His assurances did not make her want to back down.   

“I just want to be sure we’re clear.”   

“And you’re sure you're not talking just to talk because you’re nervous?” Malfoy raised one eyebrow, daring her to claim otherwise.   

“No.”   

“Hmm.” Draco hummed low in his throat and focused on the road ahead of him.   

Hermione gained more freedom in the weeks after the fiendfyre incident. They decided she didn’t need a guard anymore. She wasn’t sure if it was because they trusted her or because there was no one to do it. But whatever the reason she didn’t realize how much she missed her privacy until she got it back. And now, after she’d proven that she could handle herself inside of the ballroom without incident, Malfoy decided to open up the rest of the Manor to her.   

Draco decided to push it even further and see if she could handle a ride in the car. The thought of getting to leave the Manor was too enticing, even if they were only going to Theo’s house. Maybe she was nervous about it, but Draco didn’t have to draw attention to the fact that she was.  

Draco drove with the utmost concentration, never taking his eyes off the road, while Hermione and Theo were in the backseat. Allegedly, it was the roomiest car that Malfoy owned, but judging by how much space was available in this one, the other options were probably toy cars. If not for the Theo's invention confining her to the backseat Hermione could have leaned forward and rested her chin on Malfoy’s shoulder. If she wanted to. She certainly wasn’t trying to think about it.   

Hermione sat with her hands in her lap, politely looking out the window like a good vampire. Despite both men being so close, Hermione's nose was locked on Malfoy’s scent. It wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.   

That terrified Hermione, how much her vampire instincts wanted him, especially when it was getting harder and harder distinguishing between the monster’s desires and her own. The lines were as blurred as they’d ever been. At least she knew the intense curiosity she felt about him was all hers. It seemed like after the night in his office they never stopped talking.   

Knott Manor was not as extravagant as the Malfoy Manor, but the biggest difference was just how much stuff was crammed in there. Each room they walked through had more things that Hermione had never seen before.  

“Why do you have so many things?” Hermione asked Theo.   

“My dad was an inventor of sorts. He liked to have a lot of junk of hand.”   

Draco smirked at Hermione’s enthusiasm. He’d said she was going to like visiting the Knott Manor and he’d been right. It would make him insufferable.    

“We can always come back.”  

“If today goes alright.”   

Draco met her eyes with an unflinching gaze. “The only one doubting your control is you.”   

“I just want everyone to be safe.”  

“There are five cursed objects in this room that scare me more than you ever did.”   

Draco touched a little golden statue of a pinecone and Hermione jumped back when a puff of mist came out of it. “It's only to make the air smell good. So jumpy.”   

Hermione flashed her fangs at that, letting out a low growl, which wiped the smirk off Draco’s face real fast. Theo rolled his eyes and led them to what looked like an industrial kitchen.   

“You have a potion’s lab in your house?” Hermione was never jealous of the pureblood’s wealth until she saw the potion’s lab. There was enough space to brew multiple potions at once, with a whole counter dedicated to Hermione’s potion. And the wall of ingredients alone was impressive.   

Hermione took in everything in the room with one sniff.   

“Why does it smell like an acromantula?” Theo was reckless, but surely even he wouldn’t keep a dangerous spider.   

Theo and Draco shared a charged look.   

“Granger. How strict are you about following the law?” Theo said.   

If you’d asked her a year ago to be involved in something illegal, Hermione would have at least turned a blind eye to it. But now, she wasn’t sure, but she knew she wanted to find out why she identified more dangerous creatures the more that she smelled. So, she sidestepped accountability with a snide remark.   

“I think that I’m technically illegal.”  

“But let’s say if I asked you to keep a secret from your auror friends. Would you?”     

“Are you involved in an illegal activity that is harming someone or the harmless illegal kind?”  

Theo scoffed. “I built you a beautiful, vampire paradise that you barely used, and you question me?”   

“I am not agreeing to anything you’re involved in without knowing what it is.”   

Theo looked at Draco as if begging to bail him out. “I can't help it if she’s learning.”  

Hermione’s answer seemed to pacify Theo enough to trust her. With a wave of Theo’s wand, and the shelf of potion ingredients levitated and moved to the side, revealing a pantry of potions ingredients.  

Unicorn blood and acromantula fang and boggart essence. None of it legal to own.  

Hermione took the time to look at every bottle on the shelf. “How did you get all of this?”  

“Some of them are collected from jobs.” Theo didn’t elaborate beyond that, and Hermione didn’t push, although she wanted to. It was easy enough to guess that all of it came on the black market.  

Hermione was broken out of her wonder by Draco and Theo’s conversation. They probably didn’t realize she could hear from the other room, or didn’t care.  

“We’re low on griffin claw,” Draco said.  

Theo looked directly at Draco. “Listen first and then comment.” Theo waited for Draco to nod and then continued. “There’s a problem, but I already have a solution, so I am going to tell you the solution first.”   

Draco looked rather murderous at Theo’s antics, but Theo did not seem to care.  

“We are buying a griffin farm.”  

Hermione didn’t think that she’d ever seen Draco more shocked than that moment.  

“We?”  

“Blaise and Astoria already agreed to it. I only need you to say yes,” Theo said. “Griffins are a good investment.”  

“I’m shockingly unconvinced."  

“There are only two licensed griffin farms in England, and we’ll keep the same staff. It will run itself. I’ve already talked to the owner, looked at the books. It’s done. I just need your investment.”  

It was a testament to their friendship that Draco was considering this strange proposal seriously. Though Hermione knew by now that Theo’s cheesy line delivery was some sort of defense mechanism. He was smarter than he wanted to let on.  

“If a griffin farm is such a good investment, why can’t you invest alone?” Draco asked.   

“It’s more expensive to buy a farm than you would think. I could do it, but it would be my entire investment portfolio for the year.”  

The amount of money that Theo pitched was exorbitant. The number as a concept let alone something to gamble on made Hermione feel ill.  

Theo was undeterred by the number or Draco's reluctance. “I have it on good authority that Griffin claws are needed for a potion that cures the symptoms of vampirism. If we put that on the market, we’ll make our money back and more.”  

“You’re serious about this?” Draco furrowed his brow  

“Entirely, because of the problem that I haven’t mentioned yet. That, let me remind you, is not a problem if a solution exists.”  

“Theo,” Draco said, finally at the end of his patience.  

“Griffins got reclassified last week. Or the products did. It seemed that someone was using griffin feathers for some kind of controlled substance. Or at least that was the justification for them to be reclassified. So now, you can’t buy large amounts of griffin feathers, griffin claws, any part of the creature.”   

Of all the ingredients to control, that was one that couldn’t be substituted. Hermione briefly panicked at the thought of not taking her potion, of letting the madness claim her again.  

Draco tried to think of other solutions. “We can't stockpile or call in favors?”  

“I don’t think that’s good enough. I think we need to make sure that we have a secured supply,” Theo said.   

“Why?”  

“Because I think that someone knows we needed griffin claws, and then they got the supply cut off.”   

Before Hermione could truly work herself into a panic, Draco made his choice.  

“So, we’re buying a griffin farm,” Draco said.  

Hermione was shocked at how easily Draco agreed to it, like letting her go wasn’t an option. He’d always said that she was safe with him, and she knew it was one thing to say it and another thing entirely to support her like this. She couldn’t remember the last time that someone had done that for her.  

Hermione spent longer than she anticipated poking around Theo’s Manor, and to his credit it seemed that he was happy to have someone to talk about everything with. They stayed until Draco nearly fell asleep on his feet.  

“Home?” Draco asked, like it was hers to.  

Theo shook his head. “I’m not taking a ride in that metal death trap only to come all the way back here, and we both know she’s safe.”  

Hermione looked at Draco to confirm that he was alright with it, and he was utterly unaffected. Maybe she was the only one worried about her control, which was completely backwards.  

“The front seat please,” Draco said. “I’m not a taxi service.” He leaned in close to place the disks that confined her to the seat, and she remained still as a statue as not to scare him. He only chuckled when he saw the effort she was making.  

And that was it, her worry melted away. She wouldn’t bite him. At least now. If he could trust her despite al logic saying otherwise than she could trust herself. And like always, they fell into an easy conversation as he drove.  

“What got you interested in cars of all things?” Hermione asked.   

“After the Azkaban stint, I was still on probation and forbidden from using magic. And I couldn’t handle living in the Manor without it. So, I rented a car and drove across the United States until my probation ended. I couldn’t not own one when I got home.”   

“Or four.”  

“Seven actually.”   

“Where are the other’s?” Hermione was pretty certain that she counted four in the garage.   

“At the other houses in France and Spain.” Of course, the Malfoys had multiple houses. Of course that was normal for them.  

Draco made an effort to drive through the countryside and not the city centers, but Hermione recognized where she was.  

“Can you drive a few blocks that way?” Hermione asked.   

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Into a muggle neighborhood?”  

“Wyatt lives down that street.”   

To his credit, Draco didn’t doubt her. “Only if you think that it's a good idea.”   

“I just want to see if he’s alright with my own eyes,” Hermione said.   

Draco nodded and drove where Hermione directed him. Hermione prayed that no on crossed their path, and no one came close to the car, not close enough to tempt her.  

She felt a little bad for lying to Draco. Sure, Hermione needed to know if Wyatt was safe, but the motive was more selfish than she wanted to admit. Hermione needed to know if Wyatt gave her the same feelings as when she was around Malfoy. Surely, she would feel the same connection with him?  

As they drove closer to Wyatt’s house, Hermione’s anticipation built. She told herself it was because she was nervous to see her boyfriend, but she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t be sure of any of her feelings. They were as murky as the bottom of a pond.  

They parked close to his front door but far away enough not to be seen. They waited until the time that Hermione knew he’d come home from work.  

Wyatt walked up the steps to his apartment, unaware of the fact that they were watching.   

Hermione willed herself to feel something, anything. Only she didn’t. She felt nothing at seeing in her boyfriend in person. Nothing like what she felt for the man beside her. She’d hoped for some clarity, but she’d merely gotten herself into more of a mess.  

Chapter Text

Hermione   

The Malfoy Manor gardens flickered with sounds of life in the early summer night. Hermione closed her eyes and took it all in. She let the signs of life around her lull her into a meditative state.  

Hermione felt like the only person in the world like this. No one else was awake, and this far into in the grounds, she couldn’t even hear the sounds of Draco, Pansy and Astoria sleeping.  

She came out to the gardens enough that it was becoming a nightly routine. Her life felt timeless, like one long day, but venturing out to the gardens nightly felt like a practice to mark the passing of time.  

The gardens were impeccably groomed thanks to Narcissa’s attention, or so Astoria said. Neat stone paths wound around hedges and rose gardens and flower beds. Something about the hedge maze calmed Hermione. It brought out the instinctual side of the vampire. Hermione crept through the maze, sticking to the greenery like a shadow, letting the monster lead the way.  It felt so good not to think, especially when there’d been so much on her mind.  

As the days slipped by without progress, the cure seemed more impossible than ever. Whenever Hermione thought she’d found a way it turned out to be a dead-end. She knew that science took years, decades even, but she didn’t have that luxury.  

But time was also robbing her of Wyatt. He seemed to believe her lies now, but eventually he would ask questions that she wasn’t willing to give the answers to. Hermione could not have counted the times that she almost told Wyatt that she was a witch, but every time something held her back. She’d waited so long that she’d made the situation worse. There was no path forward for them without the truth coming to light.  

Hermione felt that they’re relationship would never survive it. Wyatt was not a man that welcomed change, and her truth would shake his world view to its foundations. The part of her that liked Wyatt liked the simplicity of him. He lived in an uncomplicated world where monsters didn’t exist and there had never been war. And for a brief time, she was able to live in that sweet naivety with him. But the darkness caught up to her, and she couldn’t deny it any longer.  

Time also felt like it was pulling her and Draco closer together. Spending time with him didn’t drain her energy. As much as she loved her friends, and her boyfriend, sometimes they wore her down. Draco didn’t do that. Whether they were bickering or reading side by side, he felt like a balm to her soul, like his presence gave her peace. But she also knew that as sweet as their time together was, she also knew that her want of him came from a wicked place. Her mind swirled with carnal instincts when she was around him, like she wanted to bite into his flesh and never let go. That scared her. Giving into that need scared her.  

It came from a wicked place that she’d spent her whole life denying. Hermione was a good witch. She leaned on rules both in reality and made up in her head to deny that part basic part of her. She wasn’t ready to fully give in to those desires quiet yet, at least not without a fight.  

So, she let herself go when no one was around. When she could disappear into the hedge maze, where nothing mattered. Where she could revel in the feel of the dirt beneath her bare feet and the spark in brain when she caught the scent of a rabbit. When everything was simplified and the thoughts in her head quieted.  

Draco  

Apparently changing your entire world view wasn’t atonement enough, because Draco was in hell. Watching the woman he liked be steam rolled by her boyfriend was maddening, especially when he couldn’t do anything about it because it happened in the past.  

It would have been easier if Hermione didn’t love the muggle or if the muggle didn’t love her. All bets would have been off if he was a shitty person, but based on everything that he saw, that wasn't true. He wasn’t cruel, only caught in his own feelings of grandeur and propriety that he couldn’t see past his own feelings. His ambition made him cold. But Draco had rifled through enough of Hermione's memories to know without a doubt that he cherished her, in his own intellectual way.   

Hermione had been quiet since they’d paid a visit to Wyatt. She hadn’t told him he was being ridiculous in days. Draco never thought that he would miss her bossy attitude. She’d retreated so far in her thoughts that it was like a light had gone out.  

Wyatt was the only thing on her mind, but her thoughts about him were as undefined as they were fleeting. She was trying to make up her mind about something. Something to do with Wyatt, but Draco couldn’t make sense of the memories that came up.  

There didn’t seem to be a connection between the memories that were coming forward. They were together at the library and at a museum and in bed. Talking about everything and nothing. And as much as Draco hated to admit it, he knew why this relationship was so appealing to her. It was uncomplicated and simple. Wyatt was just as ambitious as she was, and she didn’t have to be hero from the magical world.  

Though something was bothering Draco and it took him a while to realize what it was. Draco wondered why Wyatt was so oblivious to the fact that Hermione kept a gigantic secret from him, abut now he knew how. Wyatt gave her the independence that she craved but to the point of being cold towards her.  

It bothered Draco that he didn’t see the Hermione he knew in any of these memories. She held pieces of herself back when she was around him. Sometimes the pair felt like they worked together instead of being romantically involved.  

Draco really tried not to be judgmental. What did he know about relationships, after all? But the feeling that he could love her better if only he had the chance nagged at him. He shoved that thought away. She wasn’t his, as much as he wished it were so.      

Hermione’s indecision about the present was like a block; they couldn’t get to the past because there was only this.  

Draco felt the mental shove and her message was clear. Get out of my head. So, he obliged.  

When Draco came back to the real world, when the kitchen came back into view, the first thing he did was check on Hermione. She sat with her palms on the table, like she was trying to use it to anchor her to the Earth.   

“We're not going to make any progress today,” she admitted. He could feel the frustration radiating off of her in waves.  

“And that’s okay,” Draco said. He waited for the words to register for her, but he could see that she didn’t believe it. “And that’s okay. ” He repeated.   

More silence. He wished that she’d snap at him, anything. But she only stared at the table, like she was memorizing the very grain of the wood.  

“Granger,” Draco purred in a voice that was very similar to how he used to talk to her when she was crazed and bashing against the metal bars. “What’s wrong?” Hermione picked her head up at least, and took a breath, escaping whatever storm of her own creation raged inside of her head. “What are you worrying about?”  

“I have to tell Wyatt about what I am, if I want the relationship with him to continue.”  

That must have been the connection between the memories. The times she almost told him the truth. The times that she held herself back from doing so.  

Draco didn’t pity the shock Wyatt would face when he learned about everything. The existence of magic alone would be a lot to take in.  

Draco had a thousand things that he would have liked to say to Hermione, but he kept them all to himself. She needed someone to sound her thoughts too, not someone to give their own opinions. So, he only waited for her to talk.  

Hermione stared into the distance like she still wasn’t truly listening to him. He wished he could end her agony over whatever she was feeling.  

“Maybe I waited too long."  

“If I know you, there’s a reason why you’re holding back.”  

On instinct, Draco tapped his fingers on the table. Such a simple movement that caught her attention. Black eyes zeroed in on the sound, and it was like he could see her brain resetting.   

"Breaking up with him would be easier." Hermione seemed surprised by the admission, like it came out of her mouth without her permission. “Right?”  

“I can't answer that question for you.”   

“Why not? Because I can’t keep a clear head about it.”   

“I doubt more information is what you need right now.”  

Because Draco was fucked in the head, he briefly considered telling her everything he felt. How she should just break up with Wyatt and be with him. That he’d make her forget him in a week if she’d give him a chance. But he didn’t say any of it. He managed to hold his tongue.  

She looked so lost, forced to make choices based on what was taken from her. He tried to find some words of comfort for her.  

“You want my opinion so badly?”  

“Yes.” Such a broken word.  

“I think that if he loves you, he won’t care what you are. I think that real love changes the axis on which your world rotates. And no matter what you decide, no matter what happens, I know you have the ability to make your future as magnificent as you are.”   

Hermione’s eyes widened in disbelief at his word, trying to figure out if he really meant them. She eyes drifted down, settling on Draco’s neck, at the bite scar that he never bothered to heal. Her fangs imprinted on his skin. Maybe he didn’t have to say the words out loud for her to know how he felt.  

Draco could have stopped, but he didn’t.  

“You deserve the kind of love that sees that you are worth the risk.”   

“And if I do decide to end it?”  

Draco’s heartrate spiked so intensely that he occulated to keep himself under control.  

“Then it wouldn't be the first time you've made a liar of me, Granger.”   

Chapter Text

Hermione  

Hermione didn’t know if she was reading her textbook or staring at the page. No matter what she read, nothing stuck. She contemplated putting her work down, but there wasn’t anything else to do.  

Part of the problem was her mental fatigue. Hermione approached the problem of her relationship like a science project. First, she banished any thoughts about a certain blonde because he was a confounding factor. She’d fought with herself for a long time, trying to imagine what a future with Wyatt as a vampire would be like. But it didn’t matter how many mental paths she went down, Hermione always concluded that she could not tell Wyatt that she was a witch. She knew that he would be uncomfortable with it. Wyatt thrived on being the smartest person in the room. Changing his world view in such a drastic way felt cruel. It was better to break it off.  And once she’d made that choice, Hermione felt nothing but peace, though that didn’t mean there wasn’t grief.  

Hermione first noticed Wyatt in her research ethics class. In the beginning, there’d be so much excitement to be dating someone who understood her. They’d been so alike. It started as friends until they became closer than that. Neither let their relationship get in the way of their ambitions. It was exactly the kind of relationship she wanted, until it wasn’t. Until Hermione left the muggle world and those quiet nights studying together seemed so far away. There seemed no point in waiting now that she’d decided to end up the relationship.  

The actual act of breaking up was a smooth as the start of the relationship, but Hermione kept replaying the conversation her head, especially one thing that he’d said. You’re breaking up with me over the phone? She couldn’t believe it was happening this way either, but she had no other choice. If he saw her in person, he’d run screaming.  

Wyatt put up a half-hearted defense of their relationship, but it fell on deaf ears. He could have said anything, but Hermione’s mind was made-up. The damage was done. Wyatt never fought for her in the way she wanted. He’d been more worried about his doctorate than the distance between them. They’d let their relationship fizzle out, neither willing to fight long before she’d doomed it by turning. She’d waited too long and now the damage was done, she just needed to see it.  

In a funny way she was glad that she’d turned. It made the instincts she’d been suppressing impossible to ignore any longer. Though it was unfortunate that she’d had to burn everything in her life down to get there.    

But as the days passed, Hermione became worried that she’d lost emotions along with her humanity. She didn’t cry. Her life went on much the way it had before. She wasn’t even ready to tell everyone about the break-up.  

Today, Draco was working through some of his financial records across the room from her. Hermione couldn’t help but use her superior eyesight to snoop, though most of what the Malfoys were spending their money on nowadays was uninteresting. Draco was leaving the Manor more often than before, but he seemed to find his way back to wherever Hermione was working more often than not.  

Hermione desperately wanted to know what Draco would do when he found out about her and Wyatt. She hadn’t told anyone besides Ginny, and Neville and it felt good to have a secret when her life felt so on display. Though Draco surely knew that something happened when Ginny burst through the fireplace like a curse.   

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Careful. I’m sending you the bill if you damage the stonework.”   

“If only I had the money.”  

“You know your quidditch salary is public, right?”  

Ginny only stared at Draco like he was little more than an annoyance to her. “You can leave."  

Draco looked stunned, like he didn’t correctly hear what came out of her mouth. “Excuse me?”   

“I need to talk to my best friend.”   

Draco made no move to stand up from his spot. “Even you can’t be as rude as to boss me around in my own house?”  

“Must be all that pureblood audacity. Now shoo.”   

Ginny stared at Draco until he caved and left, looking surprised at his own weakness.   

Hermione’s gaze followed him all the way out of the room. “I can’t believe that you did that."  

“It’s not like it’s hard to boss Malfoy around. He's always been more talk than action.” Ginny settled into the comfiest chair and turned her attention to Hermione. “He'd probably let you boss him around too. I bet you could get away with loads more than I could.”   

Maybe it was all of the change but seeing Ginny sitting crooked in the chair made Hermione ache for the days that they would spend in each other's apartments, doing nothing in particular.    

“How are you feeling?” Ginny asked.   

Hermione played with her hair so there was an excuse to hide her expression from Ginny. An old habit when she got shy. Her truth felt ugly, but she’d never lied to Ginny before, and she didn’t want to start now. Hermione decided the best tactic was to get the words out of her mouth as quick as she could.  

“Is it awful if I say that I feel relieved?”   

Hermione braced herself for whatever Ginny would say. It was so clear to Hermione that Wyatt was not Ginny’s favorite person, and the last thing that she wanted was to hear disparaging words about him. But Ginny surprised Hermione by apologizing.  

“I’m sorry if my thoughts about him swayed your choice in anyway. I know I can be opinionated.”  

“Your opinions didn’t matter. Or rather they were entirely correct, but I wasn’t ready to listen to them.”  

“It’s only that I knew what all-consuming love was, and I was worried that you settled into something comfortable when there could be so much more out there waiting for you.”  

It felt laughable under the current circumstances. Who would willingly date a blood sucker?  

But Ginny wasn’t done yet. “It was undeniable that you two really did love each other.”  

“He couldn’t really love me. Sometimes it felt like he barely knew me.”   

“He knew the important parts. The rest of it was details.”  

It felt incorrect to call Hermione’s magic a detail. Although maybe she was only sore about it because it was gone. Maybe Hermione’s magic was only a detail of her life. She’d forgotten so many memories, so many details, and she didn’t miss all of them, not in a way that mattered.  

Somewhere along the way, the important parts of her life felt like they became a part of her DNA. Her friendship with Ginny was one of those things. Hermione couldn’t remember when Ginny and she became friends or what Ginny did to earn the amount of trust she had. Hermione only knew that she trusted Ginny with her life and the truth of it.  

“I think I liked him in an intellectual way rather than an instinctual way?”   

Wyatt, despite all the time that they’d spent together, never found his way into her heart like her friends had, and that counted for something.  

Ginny nodded. “That makes perfect sense to me. I think you liked that he thought you were the exemplary girlfriend, and I think maybe you liked his achievements more than him.”   

“Does that make me shallow?”  

The best times they’d had together were after big events. Hermione’s thesis presentation. Graduation night. They basked in each other’s accomplishments, and each milestone sustained their relationship.  

“So maybe you’re a little shallow. We’ve all got to have our flaws.” Ginny punctuated the statement with a teasing smile.  

“I wish that I felt something about it.” Like most of her feelings lately Hermione wasn’t sure if the detachment was her or her vampire.  

“There’s no point in trying to make yourself feel bad about it if you don’t. You can let it be over.”   

“I’m tired of talking about it.”   

“Good.”   

“I’m tired of talking about me in general.”   

“Your life had been nothing but dramatic lately. Everything else pales in comparison.”  

Hermione perked up at that. “You sound like you’ve been holding things back from me.”    

Hermione meant the phrase to be teasing. She thought it came out that way, but Ginny’s smile faltered.  

Ginny took an audible breath. “I didn’t mean to hold things back from you. I only wanted you to focus on yourself.”  

“I’ve been focusing only on my problems and making zero progress. The least I can do is be there for my best friend.”  

“Good.” Ginny’s eyes lit up. “Because I’ve been dying to tell you something. I didn’t lie but I didn’t tell you the whole truth about why I broke up with Harry.” Ginny paused and Hermione hung with rapt attention on whatever word was going to come out of her mouth next.  

“I knew Harry wanted to propose but when he bought a ring, I freaked out. We got together so young and I felt like I didn’t know what was out there, and I know it sounds cold, but I wasn’t ready to be settled and be his wife.”  

Ginny was nervous about something, which scared Hermione more than anything else because Ginny was never nervous, she was always sure of herself. So, Hermione gave Ginny all of her attention.  

“I wasn’t at all ready to get married because I was questioning everything, because I realized I had feelings for other women.”  

Ginny scrutinized Hermione for her reaction to what she’d just admitted. Hermione regrettably was too surprised to come out with anything elegant to say.  

“Oh.”  

Hermione’s mind flew with a thousand questions. Was Ginny lesbian? Bisexual? Bicurious? When did all of these feelings start? But Hermione’s questions weren’t the point. She didn’t need to know any of it. Hermione’s understanding didn’t matter when her friends trusted her with this. It was only important that Ginny knew she didn’t care what her sexuality was; it was merely a detail.  

Hermione found some words eventually. “So, you wanted to explore that part of you?  

“Yes.”  

“Did Harry know this?”  

Ginny nodded. “I was completely honest with him, and he understood, as much as he was heartbroken by it.”  

“So, you’ve been exploring?”  

Ginny told her the various dates she’d been going on with women. How some went well, and others went horribly. How nice it was to have freedom to date at first.  

“But after a while it started to feel like a chore. Especially after you were bitten, it all felt so frivolous.”  

“Dating can be exhausting.”  

Maybe that was rich coming from Hermione. She hadn’t been single long, but in the early college years she’d hated dating. Maybe that was why she’d been reluctant to break it off with Wyatt. But Ginny still had more story to tell.  

“The longer it’s been and the more people I meet the only person I want to be with is Harry. I compare everyone to him.”  

Hermione didn’t want to impose her opinions on her friend, though she had many. She wanted both her friends to be happy, and Harry was miserable without Ginny. What they had together was good, better than good from the outside. Though one never really knew for sure.    

Ginny sensed that Hermione was holding back. “I know I have to find the answer for myself, but I want to know that you think.”  

“I’m biased but I still think that you and Harry are good for each other. That I would kill to have what you have together. And I think that if there’s anything I’ve learn it’s that you can’t ignore your instincts.”  

“I’ve been having similar thoughts.”  

“But you’re worried about something?”  

“I worry that I’ll lose a part of me that I just found. That I just started exploring.”   

Hermione had never been good with her words, but she hoped that she found the right ones for Ginny in that moment.  

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. If you do decide it’s Harry, then you’ll be even stronger because you know that you made the right choice. That you had the chance to explore and it was him all along. And you don’t lose your sexuality just because you’re married to a man. It’s always a piece of you.”   

It was like Ginny finally took a breath. She must have felt so alone with everyone focused on the vampire problem.  

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that alone.”  

“I haven’t been really. Once the worst part of your issue was over Astoria and I talked a lot, and Draco is actually kind of wise when he’s not being a total prick.”  

They talked until it was late in the night, and that eased some of the ache in Hermione’s heart. Maybe things weren’t as different as she worried they’d be. Maybe as a vampire she could keep the things that mattered, and the rest was simply details.  

Chapter Text

Draco  

Thank the heavens for occlumency. It was one of the best things that wizards ever invented because Draco could not trust anyone else with his feelings. He felt nearly giddy when he found out that Granger and Wyatt were no longer together.  

Draco had also never been more thrilled that Hermione could not keep her feelings to herself. When Hermione told him, Draco felt her scrutinizing his reaction. He did his best react appropriately, hoping that she wouldn’t read too much into it. But he felt a spark of hope that she even cared what he thought. That maybe she liked him back, and that felt more disastrous than anything.    

After the high dissipated, Draco did not expect the panic. He hadn’t realized he preferred it when their relationship was more defined. It felt safer, like he knew the rules. With everything so up in the air, he found that he didn’t know how to act around Hermione anymore. But he’d promised her that she would be safe in the Manor, and surely romantic attachments would not make her feel comfortable, especially for such an overthinker.  

So, he occulated and tried to avoid the problem, which meant he spent a lot less time with Hermione. And he hated himself for being such a coward about it. To distract himself, he spent the time trying to find Hermione’s attacker.   

To his surprised, Pansy spent the most time helping him out with it. Draco knew that Pansy wasn’t helping out of the goodness of her heart, or a sense of guilt. He wasn’t entirely sure what her motives were, because she made it clear that she was unhappy he was putting in the work at all.  

Pansy popped into Draco’s study, frowning as she set her eyes on him. "I’m not telling you what I found out if I have to look at a dead face.”   

Draco loosened his grip on the occlumency but didn’t let it go completely.  

“You’ve been occulating a lot lately.” Pansy smirked, like she knew a secret he didn't.   

Draco knew he was letting her get away with more shit than he usually did, but he couldn’t bring himself to be as biting as he usually was. He was too grateful that she was here, and healing. He couldn't help but listen to each breath she took, happy that they were even and unlabored.  

Pansy gave him a list of names on parchment. They included lobbyists, researchers, known criminals, anyone that Pansy could think of that would be involved. The list was longer than Draco would have hoped.  

One name in particular stood out. Phineas Parkinson.  

“Why is your brother on the list?”  

“You know how involved the politicians are with medical companies. Obviously, he’s not involved.”  

“I didn’t mean to imply he was.” Phineas may have been ruthless but there was no way that the Parkinsons were involved with illegal activity like that when their companies were doing plenty fine within the law.  

Pansy scrutinized him as he looked over the names. “What are you going to do when you find out who it is?”  

“Haven’t decided yet.” Though that wasn’t entirely true. He’d rip whatever it was apart if he got the chance.  

“Whoever did this is powerful enough to be on the right side of the Ministry, and sneaky enough to operate under the law and ruthless enough to destroy a lab with fiendfyre. You’re sure you want to mess with this?”  

“It’s too late to worry about that now? Isn’t it?”   

“Hope your girl is worth it.” Pansy said. “No. I take that back. I hope your girl even wants you.”   

Draco rolled his eyes, only happy that Pansy was feeling well enough to be cruel to him.  

Hermione  

It was too quiet in the Manor. There was always someone in the kitchen at this time of morning. Hermione usually sat with Astoria as she ate breakfast, magicked to her by unseen house elves. But Astoria had likely never gotten out of bed that morning. Hermione knew she was in the Manor and that Astoria had bad health days, but it struck her not for the first time how unfair it was that such a vibrant person could be inflicted by such am insidious curse.   

Morning became afternoon became night and no one came to see Hermione. It was the first time since she’d turned that she’d been alone the whole day. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed those visits to distract her from the reality of the situation.  

Boredom set in eventually. Despite her best efforts, Hermione found her mind drifting to the restrictions of her life. She tried not to feel sorry for herself. This was the best anyone could do for her. She still had her research. She could read as many books as she wanted. The hunger that she dealt with as a vampire was now little more than an annoyance.  

And it wasn’t just physical hunger that seemed to plague her, and she had nothing but time in which to think about it. It had been weeks since she’d broken up with Wyatt and she’d hoped that Draco would feel someway about it, but he’d been occulating around her. She didn’t know what to make of it. She thought that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She felt it, or she thought that she felt it. It would have been better if he said that he wasn’t interested in her like that, at least she could move on. Whenever she tried to talk about it, he dodged the subject. He didn’t even tease her like he used to. But that didn’t stop Hermione from looking at him. Sometimes the wanting of him struck her, and it was all she could do to tamp it down.    

Around sundown, Hermione couldn’t take being with her own mind anymore. Draco was in the Manor somewhere, if his scent was anything to go by. Hermione supposed there was no harm in seeking him out.  

Hermione latched onto the scent trail, and let it lead her through the Manor. His scent got stronger the closer she got to the Malfoy family’s rooms. She walked until she hit the boundary.    

She didn’t expect her body to be flung back in a random hallway. A snarl ripped through her throat. The surprise of it let the monster through, and it was angry at the insult. Her vampire hated to be caged in, and they moved the boundaries without telling her. They’d locked her out.   

Hermione paced back and forth as she tried to reign in the vampire instinct. It simmered with a cold rage, wanted to rip apart anything that it could get its hands on.  

Keep it together, Hermione told herself.  

After a longer struggle than she would have hoped, Hermione settled, as she came back to herself. By the time she saw someone on the other side of the boundary, she was calm again.   

Draco approached her, looking like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Hermione’s stomach sank at the sight of him. He startled when he noticed Hermione.  

“We had a visitor. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to tell you.” Even Draco’s voice sounded tired.  

“Who?” Hermione asked even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer.   

“Astoria needed a doctor.”  

“Is she alright?”  

“She’ll be fine. Just a bad day.” Draco said the words, but it didn't look like he believed them.  

“You’ll tell me if there’s anything that I can do.”   

“She needs rest. The only thing we can do is wait.”   

It didn’t feel like enough. Hermione knew that Astoria had the best care possible. She just didn’t know how to handle being as helpless as she was.  And she hated that her presence complicated an already bad situation.  

Hermione tried to excuse herself, feeling bad that she didn’t trust that there was a good reason people were staying away.  

“I was coming to find you, actually.” Draco’s voice softened. “Needed something to distract me.”  Hermione supposed she could do that.  

Part of the reason Draco looked so terrible was that he hadn’t eaten all day. Hermione offered to fix that. She could feel Draco’s eyes following her as she looked at the Malfoy’s well stocked pantry.  

“You know the house elves can make something. Right?”  

“That’s not the point.”  

The kitchen looked like something from the illustrations of a fairytale book. Some parts were updated over the years, but stonework remained.  

Someone, probably the elves, kept the pantry well stocked with the freshest ingredients. Hermione had an idea of what she wanted to cook but as she perused the shelf, she found her second guessing the recipe she was thinking of.  

Draco stood in the pantry doorway, watching her raid his pantry with rapt attention. “There's a point to you making a mess in the pantry?”  

Settling on a recipe when she saw the mushrooms, Hermione busied herself collecting all of the ingredients.  

“The point is that I'm doing something nice for you.”  

“You call it nice, but this feels supremely belligerent to me.”  

“Sit.”  

“Practically hostile.” Though Draco sat in one of the stools at the counter.  

The stove probably cost more than Hermione’s yearly rent. She froze when she realized that it had to be magically ignited. Draco lit the burner without having to be asked, without even making a fuss. Hermione tried not to spiral about it. She was different, the way that she would have to do things would be different.  

Hermione wasn’t cooking only for Draco. Not really. Cooking for her was a refusal to let one more part of herself go. She’d loved the process of it, and if she never ate one bite of food again, maybe it wasn’t about that.  

Though, the heat was an obstacle that she never considered. Holding the pan was painful with her sensitive skin, and the distance she had to stand from the flame was considerably greater than if she’d been human, but the thrill of doing something familiar made all the details insignificant.  

Draco looked like he could fall asleep on the counter at any moment, so Hermione carried on most of the conversation. She talked mostly about cooking with her mom, and Draco seemed happy to listen to her chatter.  

Once the mushrooms were golden in the pan, Hermione poured in one of the white cooking wines. The sauce in the pan might as well have been dirt to her vampire sensibilities but it didn’t matter. Hermione knew the recipe by heart; she could have made her mother’s mushroom sauce blind.  

Draco made a grabbing motion at the bottle, and Hermione handed it to him. He took the time to get a glass from the cabinet. Hermione wrinkled her nose at the fresh assault of the alcohol scent as he poured the liquid into the glass.  

He chuckled at her discomfort. “It can’t be that bad. Can it?”  

“No appeal whatsoever. Smells like paint thinner.”  

“Connoisseurs would cry if they heard you say that.” Draco put his glass down on the table in front of her. “Try it. For the sake of science.”  

“It seems like a pointless experiment when the answer is so obvious.”  

Draco pushed the glass closer to her. “You have a hypothesis. A probable hypothesis but as yet untested.”  

Hermione tried to take a sip but even the touch of it against her lips burned so much that she couldn’t. “Results as hypothesized. Future generations will thank us for discovering vampires can’t hold their liquor.”    

Draco smirked. “Probably for the best. I know I would hate to encounter a tipsy bloodsucker.”   

Once the sauce and pasta were done, Hermione was surprised that the smell was pleasant to her in a nostalgic way. Hermione scooped the pasta onto a plate and handed it to Draco.  

Draco occulated for the first time since she found him in the hallway. “Thank you.”  

Hermione didn’t think that it had been a big deal, but something about it had made him uncomfortable. She hadn’t thought that far ahead and became mortified at the idea that she had to watch him eat. The idea of staring at him while he ate made her supremely uncomfortable. Draco didn’t let her stew, but gestured for her to sit next to him, as close as she could given the cuff.  

Even as hungry as he was, Draco ate like a gentleman of a different era, not taking a bite from his plate until he had a full table setting in front of him. He took his time and enjoyed his meal, chatting with her, like before. Like he hadn’t been avoiding her. They talked until he ate almost the whole pot of pasta, and after that. Even though Hermione knew Draco was fighting sleep. He probably didn’t want the night to end more than she did.    

To keep her hands busy, Hermione fussed with her hair. She felt Draco’s eyes land on her hair, as he accessed it. She knew it was frizzier than normal.  

“Astoria usually fixes it.” Hermione’s hair was the last thing that anyone needed to be concerned about, but it bothered her that it was so unkempt. Taking care of it made her feel connected to her humanity, proof that it was still there.  

Draco unclipped his cuff and put it on the counter. “A touch of vanity never hurt anyone.” Hermione blushed as she felt Draco accessing her. “Do you want me to do it?” Hermione nodded, though the idea of Draco fussing with her hair made her stomach twist.   

Draco spun his finger in a circle, asking her to turn around on her stool. Hermione obliged. Just because she couldn’t see him didn’t mean she didn’t notice every move he made. Her heightened senses made her hyperaware of him. When Draco moved his stool closer to hers, she could feel the heat coming off of him. She felt Draco take a section of her hair and run it through his fingers. She felt the incredible urge to lean into the touch but held as still as a statue.   

A defense mechanism, Hermione began talking through the process. “The spell is Capillus levis, and you have to do it in sections."  

“I know.”  

Draco twisted Hermione’s hair into sections, taking care to move carefully. It felt sinfully good, and like he knew exactly what he was doing.  

“You’ve used the spell before. Haven’t you?”  

Hermione could hear the smile in his voice. “A few times. Almost every day.”  

“You’re telling me your hair is frizzy?”  

“Not like yours, but you’d be shocked at what it looks like in the morning.” Draco moved his wand over her hair, casting the spell on a section and moving on. “I can’t imagine fixing this amount of hair every morning. Exhausting.”  

Draco wrapped his fingers around a lock of Hermione’s hair, right at the base of her neck, longer than necessary. Hermione felt the shiver all the way down her spine.  

After the back was done, Draco moved to the front of her, standing so close to her. Hermione felt dazed with him so close. She tucked her legs tight into her body, nervous she would startle him, and he’d stop whatever this was.  

Her eyes ran over the contours of his face; from his slanted mouth to his sharp jaw. If Draco noticed her gawking, he didn’t bring attention to it. He focused only on her hair, never meeting her eyes.  

There was no denying the pull the predatory pull that Hermione felt to bite down on his neck, but it was eclipsed by how much she simply wanted to press her body to his, her lips to his.  

Draco twisted the lock at the front of her head around his finger, finally meeting her eyes. She thought that she saw the same heat she felt reflected in the grey. Hermione leaned forward, just a little bit. She thought that he’d lean closer to her, but he leaned away.  

“Much less frizzy,” Draco said, placing her hair perfectly to frame her face.  

The rejection of it stung, but Hermione tried to recover. “Thank you.”  

Draco clipped his cuff back on and made an excuse that he needed to sleep, leaving Hermione in the kitchen. Even though he was gone, Hermione still felt dazed, but also like she’d misread something. He was only being nice, nothing more than that, and she felt so foolish that she’d mistaken proximity for something else.    

Chapter Text

Draco  

Sometimes there was a monster to when you needed a good fight. Draco would have preferred a dragon, but a boggart would do. It needed to be moved out of an elderly witch’s crawl space. Draco wasn’t thrilled at the fat that he’d have to face his biggest fear, but he jumped at the job was Blaise suggested it.  

Draco had stayed awake the entire night, wishing that he was a different person. That he wasn’t a Malfoy. That there was no personal baggage and he could simply kiss the girl that he liked.  

Draco didn’t understand how a kiss that didn’t happen could affect him more than a real one ever had. Why couldn’t Hermione remember that she hated him? Then he wouldn’t have to be the one to pull away. When she’d tipped her head to the side, it was all he could do not leave a trail of kisses down her exposed neck. There were freckles even there. They trailed down her neck to her shoulders. And when she’d leaned towards him, when their faces were inches apart, he wanted so badly to lean in. Better to be out of the Manor, so he couldn’t do something stupid. Better to deal with the boggart.  

Draco tapped on the eve under the stairs, forcing the boggart out. He braced himself as the boggart took form. He expected to see the dark lord, the riddikulus spell ready on his lips. Sometimes Voldemort cast the crucio curse, sometimes he simply leered. Draco would gladly face the real thing if it meant forgetting the curve of Granger’s lips for two minutes. But the dark lord didn't materialize.  

The boggart took on another human form, with hair so blond it was almost white and slate grey eyes. But it wasn’t human. The boggart was a vampire, freshly bitten. It took the breath out of Draco’s body to see himself turned. But that wasn't what scared him. No, the real fear that the Boggart exploited was the madness. Draco got a taste of it at Azkaban, and another in Granger's head. The void terrified him.   

The sight of dead grey eyes momentarily stunned him, but he found the presence of mind to cast the spell.  

“ Riddikulus.”  

The boggart’s robes turned into a showgirl costume. All feathers and sparkle.  

A nervous laugh burst out of Draco’s throat and the boggart retreated. Draco used the moment to stuff the boggart into a chest for removal, feeling more unsettled than anything. And shortly after, he was right back to wondering what it would feel like to press Hermione’s body flush against his.  

Hermione  

Hermione sprinted towards Blaise, crossing the dungeon hallway in seconds. It felt good to run and chase; to not hold anything back. The vampire zeroed in on the smell of his blood. Iron and sharp. Lost to the chase, Hermione yielded to the mercy of her vampire. One, two seconds and she pounced.  

Blaise didn’t hesitate, slashing his wand and shouting levicorpus before Hermione could reach his barrier shield. The spell hit Hermione in the stomach, and she felt the magical binds wrap around her limps, pulling her into the air. She clawed at the ground to no avail. She struggled against the pull of the spell as it levitated her off the ground. The desire to get to Blaise made her thrash.  

While Hermione struggled like a fly in a web, Blaise sent another burst of magic through his wand, tightening the binds. Hermione felt the squeeze all over her body. The spell held against her efforts to break it, until it didn’t.   

The magical bindings bent and then broke, as Hermione’s dark magic hacked at Blaise’s levicorpus . Hermione fell to the stone, scrambling quickly to her feet.  

The monster thrashed against her mental walls, telling her to lunge, to bite, but Hermione fought it. She forced her body to still, knowing that moving closer to Blaise would only mean she would smash into the shield. She’d gotten a lot closer to Blaise than she anticipated. The more they did this, the better she’d gotten at hunting.  

Blaise watched patiently as Hermione came back to herself.  

“52 seconds,” Blaise said as he tried to catch his breath.  

“And that was your full strength levicorpus ?”  

“Yes."  

Hermione did the math to find the average of the tests they’d done. “ Levicorpus holds for an average of 48 seconds with low variance on the time.”  

“Which makes another spell mathematically useless.” Blaise sat on his butt in the hallway with his forearms resting on his knees as he caught his breath. “And we can be done.”   

Hermione and Blaise had been systematically testing defensive spells, and so far, her vampire broke every one of them. “I've got a few more hits in me today.”  

“ I can’t do it anymore.”   

“We haven't tried the stinging hex yet.”   

Blaise groaned at the thought of hitting his friend again. “Even I’ve got my limits Granger.”   

“I’m fine.” Even if Hermione had been in pain doing all these tests she wouldn’t have told Blaise. Her curiosity eclipsed any physical discomfort. Only a few spells hurt for any significant length of time and even with those she’d healed quickly. Sometimes she felt mad volunteering as a guinea pig but there was an opportunity, and she was taking it.  

“You think it’s fun causing you pain? That there wasn’t a reason no one else would have agreed to do this?”  

“One more time?”  

Blaise shot her a look that was so cutting a lesser woman would have backed down. He was the only one who would cast spells at her, that she trusted at least. She had no doubt Pansy would send her a hex just for the fun of it. She couldn’t tell Blaise the sad truth of why she wanted to do this, that this was all she had to think about.    

Hermione tried one more method to convince him. Begging. “Please.”   

“You’re splitting hairs, and I am tired.” Blaise did look exhausted. He’d already stripped down to the t-shirt that he wore under his uniform.  

“If can figure out the most effective spells than there's less of a chance of you guys getting hurt.”   

“An ethics committee would weep openly at your experiments.”  

“But what if there are more options then we know?”  

Blaise cracked his knuckles, stretching his muscles out.  

“Let it go Granger. We already know what’s effective against vampires. That’s not something that we need to relearn at your expense. This reeks of desperation.”   

Hermione sighed. “Maybe I am desperate. Maybe I need something to work out for me.”   

“You performed a miracle, and you want another one?”  

Hermione didn’t feel like she’s performed a miracle. She felt like she joined a war after the other side won. Eradicating vampirism was the goal, and she had one tool that worked one time. She didn’t feel like it was anything to be proud of. Maybe what she and Blaise were doing was pointless, but it was something.  

Blaise looked at her with such intensity that Hermione knew threw lots of girls into a tizzy. “Things take time, and I think searching for that damn cure is preventing you from considering what could be.”   

“You think I can’t find a cure?”  

“No, I’m saying that your single-mindedness is detrimental, and I think there might be ways to build a life as you are now that you haven’t considered.” To even entertain the thought of thinking of something else felt blasphemous, but Blaise wasn’t done talking. “For example, having a vampire on our team would be immensely helpful.”  

Hermione snorted. “The Ministry would love that.”   

A vampire, fighting monsters.  

“Good thing we're not a part of the Ministry. As you well know.”  

“You answer to them.”   

“I can make a convincing argument for why you’d be useful.” Blaise locked eyes with Hermione. He had an uncanny talent for knowing exactly what you were thinking. A dark charm. And Hermione knew that he could feel her hesitation at the idea. It was terrifying to her to think that she could be on the streets and able to harm anyone that crossed. Her path. Working herself to death over a cure that might never happen seemed like the safer choice.  

“Promise me you’ll think about joining us or at least thinking of different possibilities for your life than staring at books until you go mad.” When Hermione didn’t say anything, Blaise pressed her further. “Yes?”  

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I will seriously think about my other options in life.”   

Blaise gave a devastating smile that made Hermione feel both like the center of the world and a fool at the same time.  “Come on. Let’s get out of this dungeon before someone finds us and I get gutted.”   

“Harry or Ron won’t do anything to you if I tell them not to.”  

Blaise quirked an eyebrow up in amusement. “I hope it’s Potter or Weasley. At least they’ll ask questions before seriously maiming me. I'm more concerned about Draco.”  

“Draco?”  

Blaise smirked at her, like she was a fly in his web, and he was the spider. “Surely you noticed how protective he is of you.”  

“I noticed. It’s the reason why that I can’t understand.” Hermione twirled her hair around her finger, a nervous tick that she couldn’t break.  

“I could care less about what Draco’s thinking. How do you feel about him ?”    

“It’s not important. It’s not going anywhere.”  

“Granger.” Blaise purred, with a look of amusement on his face.  

“I don’t know how to feel about him. He’s so…frustrating. Sometimes I think Draco and I are friends but the closer we get the more he pulls away.”   

Blaise scoffed. “Even you’re not that blind. Of course h e likes you. He’s just never going to do anything about it.”   

That was even more confusing to Hermione. “Then I don’t understand him at all.”  

Blaise sighed, like she was a burden. “I guess he can’t get any angrier with me.” Hermione furrowed her brow, torn between telling Blaise to get out of her business and hoping he could give her some insight. “Did your friends ever tell you about what he was like at Hogwarts?”   

“I know he used to be a bully, and I know it was bad.”   

“Knowing something and experiencing it are two very different things. You were on different sides of a war for goodness sakes. That counts for something.”  

It did count for something. Hermione felt it when she regained her sanity. Only, those feelings were completely eclipsed by what she felt about Draco now. She couldn’t imagine the Draco she knew now saying anything like what he used to. And furthermore, she believed the apology she'd given him when she was mad. Whatever he used to be like, he seemed different now.  

“Ginny, Ron and Harry like him, and I trust their judgement.”  

“That doesn’t change anything that he’s said to you. No matter how guilty he feels about it. Hateful words like that leave a mark. On him and you.”  

Hermione was tired of denying what was between Draco and her. “I have to believe that people can change.”  

“Without a doubt he’s changed. It’s always the people closest to the cult leader that defect first, and do you know why?” Hermione shook her head no. “Because they get to see how the lies are spun. The Malfoys built their entire identity on the lies the dark lord spun. But leaving isn’t the hardest part. It's finding another foundation to stand on. Something else to believe in, and I don’t think Draco has found that yet.”   

“You think he’s lost?”  

Blaze paused. Thinking over his words. “You have to understand that someone of the things he said were because he thought he was the center of the universe. His parents spoiled him, and he thought that being pureblood made us better. But you can’t live that fantasy forever. Losing Goyle hit him hard. And then he had nothing to do but think about it in Azkaban for a year. It’s a miracle he didn’t lose it. Frankly. So, we try to have patience with him, but he also needs to figure out he’s not the center of the world.”  

If the intention was to give Hermione any kind of insight it wasn’t happening, and not Hermione was getting mildly annoyed with Blaise’s inability to get to the point. “I understand all of that, but I don’t see what it all has to do with me.”  

“The idea of dating for a purpose is so ingrained in pureblood ideals. It’s practically perverted how much time we thought about dating. A certain amount of fooling around is tolerated but you’re supposed to date to marry. And you internalize that, no matter if you want to or not. And let’s be honest, Draco lives for the drama of it all.”  

How funny that being a vampire might be an asset in the romantic field.  

“So, you think that he likes me because I am the most dramatic option?”  

“I think that he’s taking a grain of truth and dramatizing it, I think to have you and lose you would gut him, and I’m saying you have to make the move if that’s something you want. I think to have you and lose you would wreck him.”  

Blaise smiled at Hermione as he saw her process all that he’d said.  

“You’re right. It’s lucky he can’t get any madder at you for spilling all of his secrets.”  

Draco  

Draco hoped that he was a respectable distance away from Hermione without looking like he was scared of her as they worked on her memories. Though proximity wasn’t the issue; he imagined sitting at opposite sides of the ballroom wouldn’t have made a difference.  

They seemed to be making progress, like there was one more stone to wiggle before the dam broke. Hermione’s memories were coming back in reverse chronological order, which meant that the more they unearthed, the more likely they were going to find the Hogwarts memories.   

Indeed, that was the first memory that came to the front of Hermione’s mind that day when Draco cast the sanatio memoriae spell was the great hall. An ordinary breakfast laid out, while Granger picked at her muffin as she studied. Draco nearly chuckled because of course Granger saw her life through baked goods.  

Then the great hall disappeared as Hermione faltered, and the memory became fuzzy. Draco didn’t understand what was happening, and worried that something important gave way. Especially because he could feel how much Hermione was anticipating something, her heartbeat thudding out of her chest.  

But then a memory sharpened, and Draco realized that Hermione was guiding him. Memories fell like rose petals. Warm and heavy. She was showing him what she felt about him, and unlike the first time he saw himself in her memories, she wasn’t ashamed of it.  

Draco nearly let out a groan as Hermione showed him without words that she wanted him. He saw stolen glances and indulgent looks. It lit his ego on fire. But more importantly, Granger was being honest with him, in a way that words couldn’t convey. Her vulnerability humbled him.  

And then Draco wasn’t looking at a memory anymore. Hermione was showing him something that hadn’t happened. The fantasy started with reality. He was seeing himself, inches from her. She fantasized about what could have happened if only he hadn’t pulled away. He watched himself bring his lips to hers and felt the pressure against her lips. And he couldn’t handle it. She’d been thinking about him just as much as he’d been thinking of her.  

He couldn’t handle knowing what they both wanted and being the person who ruined it. Maybe, he'd be damned for it, but he was so tired of denying his feelings. Granger snapped the last bit of restraint he had, and she’d done it on purpose.  

Draco wanted to get out of her head and reach for her, but he didn't, instead letting her show him how she felt. His very nerves buzzed with the want of her.  

Smug satisfaction swept through the fantasy as she must have known she was torturing him. Playing with him and teasing him.  

Keep going , Draco thought. Tease me. You’ll get it right back.  

He wasn’t able to relish the feeling of permission for long. Like an avalanche, the memories kept coming. Memories of him. Draco watched helplessness as his fear became reality, as everything she knew of him returned to her. When Draco saw his younger self, he knew he was going to be sick.  Like water dousing flame, any provocative feeling evaporated.  

Draco saw himself through her eyes, all those years ago, and felt how she hated him. Hated him to her very core. Every reason why.  

The idea of stopping the spell crossed his mind, but he kept it up, knowing that she deserved herself back, and knowing that any chance he’d had with her would come with it. That he’d waited too long.  

Draco watched himself call her mudblood when no one else could hear and make fun of her when she knew every answer in class. He witnessed it all.  

Hermione settled on a memory from the Hogwarts years, but they were not in the castle. Draco was relieved at first that they were in Diagon Alley, hoping it didn’t involve him. He didn’t remember seeing her outside of Hogwarts. He recognized Madame Malkins.  

But he didn’t deserve that mercy apparently, because when Hermione walked into the shop, he saw himself. Draco remembered the green robe he wore so clearly. It fit perfectly and the fabric was impeccable. He didn’t remember what he’d said to her, but he knew by the smarmy look on his face that he was about to say something nasty.  

“If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in.”  

Hermione reacted like she’d taken a physical blow.    

“I’m so sorry Hermione.” Draco knew that she wouldn’t accept an apology but maybe he could soften the hurt. “There’s no excuse but I’m so sorry.”   

Hermione shushed him.  

Younger Hermione tried to calm her friends “No, don’t, honestly, it’s not worth it. . . .”  

Draco had forgotten that. That Hermione was always trying to brush that word off. That no matter what he said, he could never get quite get under her skin.   

Draco watched himself throw the robe down and stomp out of the shop, like the spoiled brat he’d been.    

When Draco came back to himself, and looked at her, she was devastated. He wanted to reach out to her and comfort her, but how could you do that when you were the problem? So, he left her to sort out her feelings, taking on last look at her.  

He couldn’t handle whatever she had to say to him. He’d always been a coward, the only difference was now he knew it.  

Chapter Text

Hermione  

Blaise was right. Knowing and experiencing were two entirely different things. The bullying left its mark.  

At Hogwarts, Hermione tried to hide how much it hurt when Malfoy taunted her, but it made no difference. It still stung all these years later. She’d been an easy target. Muggle born, know it all, funny looking. As much as she told herself it wasn’t personal, that taunts knew exactly where to twist the emotional knife. Whatever the Slytherins could do to keep her down they did. It stung until she developed a skin thick enough to handle it.     

And Hermione wanted to be angry. It would have been so much easier. The confusion was the problem. She didn’t have the benefit of time to soften the blow of his words. Past and present Malfoy collided into a tangle of a person. Two Malfoys that were distinct versions of the other, that were incongruous.  

Current Draco had been teasing and even mean at times, but never because she was a muggle born. Surely, vampire fell lower on the hierarchy than muggle borns, and he’d treated her with dignity and care at every turn. Putting his life at risk to save her. It made no sense.  The only thing that Hermione knew for sure was that she was angry at Malfoy for running away, so she followed him.   

Malfoy had run to his office to hide. He sat with his head in his hands, so in his own head that he hadn’t noticed her sneak in. The audacity he had to feel badly made her even angrier. She’d been wronged, not him. And she hated that the warm feelings from earlier remained with her still. How would it feel to let him kiss her? How would it feel to bite down on his vein and never let go.  

The dark mark was barely visible on his wrist. He’d kept it covered, and she realize how stupid she’d been. She thought it was a different tattoo had not known that he’d taken the mark. A mark built on the hatred of her kind.  

Malfoy jumped out of his seat when he looked up to see her. “Fuck Hermione.” He ran his hand through his hair, something he did when he was irritated. She’d thought that he was being dramatic when he sulked, but maybe he deserved it. Maybe he’d been too comfortable, actually.      

For once, Hermione reveled in her otherness. She let the predator wash over her. Let it turn her anger into focus. When she took a step forward, Malfoy froze, instinctively feeling her cold aggression. And yet he was the one to break the silence first.   

“I meant what I said. You’re safe here. If you don’t want to see me, you never have to. But there’s not much I can do about getting you another place to stay.”   

She’d never been much of a runner. That was him. She was stubborn to the end. Picking at a problem that needed solving. Reading until she was went cross eyed. She needed to know what to do about him.    

Hermione pinned him with her gaze. “Why did you run?”  

“I figured that you would want time to think.” He never took his eyes off of her, like a mouse watched a snake.  

“I don’t know how I feel but I know that you don’t get brood over it.”     

Malfoy threw her completely off balance by smiling in that sideways smirk that he did, though it that never touched his eyes. “Oh, but I am so good at it.”   

Hermione shifted her stance, and Malfoy tracked the slight movement. She found herself waiting for him to say something mean, to become the kid that he was, but he wouldn’t do that now. He’d said the exact opposite of mean so many times. As magnificent as you are . It couldn’t all be fake, could it? What did he possibly have to gain?   

She hadn’t realized how silent she’d been, until he felt the need to break it.  

“If I can’t brood about it, what exactly do you expect me to do?”   

“Tell me why you changed,” Hermione said. “Unless that apology you gave me was all bullshit.”  

Hermione didn’t know whether she wanted it to be bullshit or not. If she wanted to kiss him or strangle him. If she hated him or felt something else. She didn’t know which path was safer. If it was safe to care about him. He’d lulled her to the edge of a cliff, and she didn’t know whether to jump. She’d been so ready to.  

“The apology wasn’t bullshit. I promise I meant every word of it.”   

Malfoy’s dead eyes only made her angrier, but she tried to have patience. Thinking about such things couldn’t have been pleasant. Maybe he needed the occlumency to get through this.   

“Then you get one chance to explain. What happened to you ?”   

He sighed and Hermione wondered if he’d tell the truth. But to her pleasure he started talking.  

“I didn’t wake up one day and decide to be different if that’s what you mean. There were cracks that happened over time. Lies that ate themselves.”  

His gaze was unflinching.  

“I begged for the mark to prove that I was special, chosen. But my mother cried the entire night when she saw the skull on my wrist. She’d played her part of devoted follower so well. I didn’t understand that no one was a fanatic like I was; they were all pretending to be, falling in line to gain power. The condition was that I had to kill Dumbledore, and I was so brainwashed I believed that I could. That the dark lord believed I could succeed. The greatest wizard of our time would be slain by a schoolboy.”  

Malfoy dropped his occlumency for a moment so that she could see his disgust at himself, like that was too much to contain.  

“Katie Bell was the beginning of the cracks. I was so proud of myself that I’d thought of a plan to get Dumbledore. That it would all go to plan and Katie Bell would deliver the package and then the dark lord was going to be so proud of me. But Katie touched the necklace, and I got the first taste of what it was like to cause another person pain. I never thought what it would be like if Dumbledore touched it, that it would hurt him. I thought it as a just killing; that it would bring an end to a world that was tainted. A man that showed me nothing but patience. But there was nothing just about the pain I caused that girl. And I shoved those feelings deep down because I’d failed in the dark lord’s service. I’d never known anger like Voldemort’s then. And it only made me want to please him more.  

“The dark lor convinced us that we would prosper once he was in control as we deserved. What a beautiful lie that was. Hate breeds hate, and no one was safe when the torture started. Muggles, wizards, anyone in his crosshairs. You can’t imagine the terror that everyone felt. Terror seeps into a soul like blood in water. It ruins it. It didn’t matter how close you were to him; he’d kill you and your family just the same. We were never chosen. We we’re never going to have the power. The death eaters felt merely slighted and helped burn the world down for it. ”  

Draco took a deep breath. He couldn’t even look her in the eyes.  

“When the dark lord punished us for letting you and Potter get away, something broke in me. We’d done everything right, to the letter, and he crucioed us. There’s nothing worse than seeing your mother in pain like that, because of me. And I should have done something then. I should have tried to switched sides, we all should have, but it had to be everyone or no one. So, we fell into line. Promised that we wouldn’t fail him again. But that wasn’t the point, really. He wanted blind submission, and we gave it to him.   

“I didn’t know what was happening at the time, but when Harry was destroying horcruxes, the dark lord got more desperate and unhinged. He took it out on all of us, and sometimes he’d kill someone because he was paranoid. It seeped into everyone else. He’d kill someone’s entire family for them defecting.  

“Pansy, Blaise and Theo were sheltered from the worst of it because their parents had never been close to the dark lord. But Crabbe, Goyle and I were at the very center of it. When we tried to stop Harry in the room of requirement, Goyle lost it, he just snapped and cast the fiendfyre spell, and I thought I was dead. I thought that I would die for that bastard, but Harry saved me, and I couldn’t help but think how my enemy cared more about my life than the person who preached that we were superior. What a load of bullshit. We were killing ourselves over lies at the whim of a man who cared nothing of anyone else. Who’d managed to con his way to power.  

“And then the war was over, and I thought that there would be relief, only the trouble wasn’t over yet. Azkaban really put things into perspective. I got a relatively short sentence because I was so young. And I remember thinking when I got to my cell how wrong people were, because even with all the dementors felt better than living under the dark lord. Do you know how horrifying that realization was? That I’d participated in bringing hell on Earth?  

“One year where I had nothing to do but think. My cell was in-between Bellatrix and Yaxley, and I heard the fanaticism out of their mouths constantly and I realized, that’s the kind of person I would have become. Sniveling, pathetic. Followers that feel powerful when in reality, their leader would sell them out for one tactical advantage. Voldemort got lucky that Potter ended him when he did. I don’t think he had the longevity that he’d hoped. There’s only so long that terror can keep people in line. He underestimated true loyalty every time.  

“So, I did nothing but think and unravel the lies I was taught to believe.  I thought about how Harry saved me even though he hated me, and I thought about what a world under Voldemort would have meant for all of us. And I thought about you sometimes. How I’d been so convinced you were beneath us when it was so obviously untrue. And I reflected on how desperately I tried to bully you into losing your nerve because you never made sense. I felt like the biggest sucker for falling for all of it. And so yes. I am desperately sorry. I didn’t know and I can blame my behavior on the fact that I didn’t know better but what’s the point? The damage is done.”  

The damage was done. Hermione would carry that feeling of what it felt like to be shamed about things you couldn’t control.  

Draco’s pulse sped up. Hermione heard it across the room like an anchor pulling him to her. “At the time I was proud of it.” At least Hermione knew he wasn’t lying to her. Only a fool would lie about that. “But after, the guilt was crushing. Bullying is how bigots keep others in line, and I learned from the best. And you, you were someone I thought I had to keep in line, because it was inconceivable to us that you were better at magic.”   

“Did you save me as some form of penance?   

“I didn’t stake you because it was too cruel. Because I was already living with the guilt of what I did to you, and I knew that knowing I was the cause of your death would break me.”   

Hermione scoffed. “So, it was selfish act? I’m here because you couldn’t handle the other option.”   

“Hermione. How I treated you is one of the greatest shames of my life and will always be.”  

“Shame doesn’t make the past different.”   

“I know it doesn’t. I wish I could go back and tell that kid what I know now, but I can’t.”  

“And what do you feel of me know?”  

Malfoy’s eyes blew wide, and for once he didn’t have a quick remark, he had nothing to say. It was for the best. She knew that she was forcing the point. That no matter what he said she wouldn’t believe him anyway.  

“I know that I were you, I’d never forgive me.”  

Maybe that was what the fascination with her was about. That he was looking for proof he changed.  

Hermione left the room before she did something foolish, wishing more than anything that it was yesterday.  

Chapter Text

Hermione

No one could accuse Hermione of being a romantic. She’d never understood the appeal of a lavish date or a big wedding. But she’d spent countless hours worrying about relationships that didn’t exist and pining for boys that never notice her. She was always too much of something; too bossy, too odd looking, too much of a homebody. She’d never understood what people meant when they talked about having a romantic spark with someone, and now that she had, he’d ruined it before anything happened.

Maybe she’d never understood the big romantic gestures, but she did know a thing or two of humble love. The simple companionship of someone who was happy to be in your presence as you were happy to be in theirs.

Hermione knew Malfoy was giving her space, but she missed him. Against reason she wanted him in his usual chair in the ballroom. It was lonely without him, and the fact that he’d managed to make himself a fixture in her life so quickly terrified her. She’d never had a problem being alone before.

It didn’t feel like if Hermione would snap, but when. She had so little control in her life, and she didn’t want to isolate the one person who made her feel human. There were a million reasons to kiss him and million not to, but she was so tired of thinking. What was the harm in doing the exact thing she wanted for once?

Draco respected her enough to deny his own feelings, to wait for the mess of the past to come to the light. It didn’t stop the heartbreak that Hermione was feeling, but it lessened it. The only time that his patience nearly snapped was when she’d flung her feelings at him in hopes of a response.

Hermione still wished that there was proof that Draco changed for the better. Something that told her she wouldn’t get hurt again; That he truly came to see the light. That it wasn’t all some kind of sick joke. Proof of Malfoy’s new moral compass came a few days earlier, in the form of a house elf.

Hermione knew that there were elves around because she could smell them. Their magic left a trace that felt different than wizard magic. If wizard magic was sulfur, elf magic was the tide. Clean and of the earth. But she’d never caught sight of one. They kept well-hidden when they cleaned up after her. It was almost annoying, to find her notes in a different place than she’d left them.

The only reason Hermione ran into this one was because she’d had a strike of inspiration before adjourning for the day and needed to write down an idea quickly. A house elf was cleaning not five minutes after she’d left, like she couldn’t wait one second to clean Hermione’s mess.

Hermione was pleased to note that the elf was free. Her dress was even tailored to her body. The elf nearly snapped away once she noticed the vampire in the room.

“Wait,” Hermione called.

“Draco tells house elves are warned to keep away from Miss Granger. That miss Granger is not safe.”

The house elf assessed Hermione with a wary expression. She wore a small cuff around her wrist as a safety precaution against Hermione. Draco took the time to protect her.

“May I ask you one question before you leave?” The house elf nodded, fighting an instinct that told her to get away.

“Ms. Granger does not tell Mr. Malfoy, and she can ask a question.”

Hermione nodded. “Draco treats you well?”

“Mr. Malfoy does not run this house. Mrs. Malfoy does.”

“But you are happy working in the Manor?”

“Malfoy Manor is better than other places. Easier than Hogwarts.” It wasn’t exactly a glowing review, and Hermione worried that maybe the Malfoy’s hadn’t changed much after all. Getting a straight answer from this cranky house elf was like pulling teeth.

“The Malfoy’s are kind to you?”

The house elf frowned. “Beezie thinks that if Ms. Granger doubts the Malfoys than Ms. Granger should not be in the Manor.”

Hermione smiled and elf looked at her like she was truly deranged. She wasn’t going to get much out of a loyal house elf like that. But what gave her hope was how cranky Beezie was. The Malfoy in her memory would never have tolerated that.  

“Is there anything else that Ms. Granger wants to say to Beezie?”

“Would you please stop rearranging my papers? It makes things difficult to find for me.”

“Ms. Granger keeps things neater and Beezie will stop cleaning.”

“Noted.”

“And Ms. Granger will not eat Beezie. House elf blood does not taste good.”

Hermione knew to take an order when she was given one. “You are not in any danger from me.”

Hermione wondered if it was fear for Draco or Hermione’s natural messy inclinations that made the house elf despise her so.  Whatever it was, the berating wasn’t over.

“Beezie doesn’t like that Ms. Granger riles up Mr. Malfoy.”

“I will try not to rile him up.”

Beezie nodded and went back to cleaning with a disappointed frown on her face. 

Astoria

Astoria sat at the table and tried to listen to Hermione’s explanation of the muggle card game, but it wasn’t sticking. Her mind was with Pansy who was working for the first time since her lungs were burned and though Astoria kept wondering if she had healed enough.

Dragons were the hunter’s bread and butter. Anyone with enough money and no brains wanted a dragon until they grew up. Dragon transfers were routine and the chance of fiendfyre was nonexistent, but Astoria was nervous about it all the same.

Astoria only agreed to play because Hermione seemed to need the distraction. Her head would tilt every time Astoria’s cuff crackled to life with the curt words spoken between the hunters. The back and forth of conversation in the background felt comfortable, until it was too quiet, or a dragon’s roar came clear through.

“Does it ever get easier?” Hermione asked.

“No.” Though this mission felt especially nerve wracking.

Astoria hadn’t slept for weeks, laying next to Pansy and listening to her, dreading a silence she hoped would never come. Merely letting her out of her sight felt impossible. Letting her wife go shopping with her mother was difficult. But Pansy was not that type of wife that would be happy without some danger, so Astoria would endeavor to be a wife that didn’t stifle her.   

“Can I ask you a blunt question?” Hermione asked.

“If you must.” Astoria ran her fingers over the cards in her hand, trying to remember the rules.

“Why Pansy?” Astoria let out a surprised laugh. Goodness knew there was no love lost between the two of them. Blunt indeed. How could you love someone like Pansy?

“I liked her at first because she didn’t treat me like a saint. She treats me like she would anybody else. Sometimes she’s nasty and sometimes kind, but she never pretends to be anything other than she is. She’d easy for me to be with, and everything else in our lives is so complicated.”

Hermione nodded. Astoria wondered if the reason she’d asked had anything to do with the coldness between her and Draco since her memories returned.

Astoria continued. “I would never justify what she did to you. I’ve told her as much.”

Hermione tapped her fingers against the card table. “Everyone keeps saying that all the bullying was some sort of power play, that it wasn’t about me. But it was personal enough.”

“Hermione. They were terrified of you, of course they tried to take you down. You threatened everything they believed in.”

“You managed to stay out of it.”

“My position in the power structure was clear as day; I didn’t need to play any games. I was at the bottom. A blight on the idea of blood purity. An embarrassment.”

“Surly you don’t believe that.”

Astoria sighed. Granger was so naïve sometimes. Speaking a truth didn’t mean she believed it. She’d let that shame go years back.

“It was never really about the blood, or the Weasleys would be included in our little club. It was about being better than someone. About falling into line. The Parkinsons and the Malfoys fell into line so easily. It was no wonder they were his favorites. No wonder their children parroted everything they said. But also, I think children can’t understand the full extent of what they’re saying. How many of us used dirty words without knowing what it meant? Not to excuse it, but we needed consequences to teach us. Pansy stopped calling people names during the war and Draco feels like an entirely different person sometimes.”

“He apologized. But I don’t know if I can trust it.”  

Astoria briefly considered staying out of it and not saying what she was thinking, but she’d never been one to keep out of her friend’s business.

“You know he adores you? Right?”

“I don’t know if that’s enough.”

When Hermione didn’t say anything else, Astoria took the hint. “Tell me one more time how to play this infernal game.”  

They played until they heard it over the cuffs. Injury. Astoria’s heart rate spiked, but it wasn’t Pansy. No, this time it was Draco. He’d gotten in the path of the dragon’s flame. Hermione went icy still.

It seemed that no matter what Hermione felt, she cared about Draco enough to worry about him.

“No one sounds worried,” Astoria said. “It’s not like last time.”

They thankfully didn’t have to fret for a long time. Pansy popped into the room, and gently scooped up Astoria, placing a line of kisses along her jaw.

The relief Astoria felt like sitting by the hearth on a rainy day. Pansy wouldn’t be that joyful if Draco was seriously hurt. Maybe the stress was worth it for reunions like this.   

Pansy’s green eyes shot daggers at Hermione as she caught her watching.

“Voyeur much?” Pansy sneered.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something biting back but Astoria shushed the both of them.

“Maybe if you didn’t want an audience, you should have waited.”

Draco popped into the room next, and to Astoria’s surprise, Hermione crossed the room to meet him. Draco startled at the fast movement, taking his wand out. He warily looking at her, trying to figure out if she was in control. Hermione laughed clear as a bell and Draco’s face twisted in confusion.

“I’m not feral. Only…relieved to see that you’re standing.”  

Draco put his wand away and ran his hand through his hair. “Let’s not run at me that fast again. Thanks.”

Hermione’s eyes roamed over his body taking, checking for injuries or burn marks. Astoria wondered if Hermione knew Draco was looking back at her.

“I thought you got burned,” Hermione said.  

“Dittany took care of it.”

Astoria took Pansy by the hand and pulled her towards the door.

“Let’s give them some space.”  

Pansy either hadn’t realized what was happening or didn’t want to notice until it was blatantly in front of her. Astoria thought that Pansy would be angry, but there was only fear for her friend.  

“She’d never hurt him.”  

Astoria merely kissed her until she put it in the back of her mind.

Draco

Draco’s arm hurt like hell but there was no way that he was telling Hermione that. He’d take another blast of dragon fire if it meant that he’d get this version of Hermione again. Happy to see him. The dragon got his arm from wrist to elbow as they were moving him, but he’d healed it quickly.   

Hermione stepped forward as if she was battling in her head about something. Draco moved slowly, taking off his cuff, hoping he wasn’t reading her wrong. The metal fell to the table with a clink.

Knowing, Hermione took a slow step forward and into his arms, nearly sighing as she leaned into him.   

Draco stilled at the contact and then he let his mouth drop near her ear. “Worried about me?”

“Only for everyone else if you managed to burn your hair.”

“Maybe you should check. I did think I smell something burning.” He playfully bowed his head and shook his hair in front of her face.

Hermione let out a soft laugh, but never took her arms from around his waist, only hiding her face from the assault against his chest. He didn’t dare hope she’d been worried about him.  

Draco rested his chin on top of her head. It felt too right, to have her against him like this. Like hell was he going to be the one to pull away first. He wouldn’t think about what any of it meant, but he would take anything that she was willing to give.

Hermione did move away first, but only to look at him.

Draco brought a hand to the side of her face and tilted her chin up with his thumb. He was scared to move too quickly for fear that she’d move away and put an end to what was happening.

Kisses in the past were hurried. Taken in hallways and bedrooms. This was slow torture, wanting someone that was so close, and having to hold himself back.

Hermione gaze fell his lips. “It’s probably not a good idea.”

It was all the confirmation that Draco needed, that she was thinking the same thing he was. He didn’t want to surprise her, so he used his voice, knowing full well she found it appealing.

“It’s not the most sane idea I’ve ever had but I can’t find it in me to care,” Draco said softly.  

“I don’t know how I’m going to react. I don’t know if I can keep my head about me.”

“But you want to?”

Draco almost didn’t want to hear the answer. He steeled himself for whatever was coming.

“Desperately.” And with that any fear that he had dissipated.

“Then what could you possible be worried about, Granger?”

“Losing control. Hurting you.”

“I can make the choice about my own safety. Thank you very much.”

“Draco. Please take this seriously.”

Up this close, her eyes weren’t entirely black. They lightened at the center, just a touch.

“You’ve bitten me before. It’s not so bad.”

But he did think of an escape route. He had to keep a hand free to grab his wand and he hated that he had to think about it.

“You’re going to stupefy me, right? If I start feeding?”

“If that’s what you’d like.”

“Yes. Don’t hesitate.”

He nodded. It was sweet, the concern for him, but his heart wasn’t racing because he was scared.

Hermione slowly leaned all of her weight into him, and he nearly forgot to breathe. He ran his thumb down her arm, in slow sweeps. Barely touching her but she leaned into his touch all the same.

“It’s overwhelming,” Hermione said, but she was smiling.

“Apologies.”

She shook her head. “It feels too good.”

Hermione tipped her head back, and Draco put his hand to her to the side of her neck and paused. They were on a knife’s edge together. Wanting so desperately to kiss her and scared it would change everything. Knowing that there was no possibility that it wouldn’t.

Draco brought his lips to hers, conscious of every movement he was making.

Hermione was too still, too scared to move. He went to pull away, wondering if he’d pushed too far. But as he tried to pull away, she didn’t let him move. She snaked her arms around his shoulders, keeping her to him.  

Draco gently placed a hand on her back.

Tentatively, her lips started moving against his. He teased her lips open and ran his tongue over hers.

Time slipped as they explored each other. Never had a simple kiss felt this important.  

Bless vampirism. Hermione was so responsive to everywhere he touched. She shuddered at the brush of his thumb against her chin, as he tipped her neck to the side and left a trail of kisses down her neck.  

Hermione put some distance between them, and he let her. Truth was he needed a moment to breathe.

Draco put his forehead to hers, as they came back to themselves. He wanted to ask her what any of this meant.

“Was this all to satisfy some curiosity?”

He knew what it was like in her head. Maybe she only wanted to know what it would feel like. He couldn’t blame her for that.

“No.”

Draco’s gaze heated. Maybe she did like him. That possibility of it felt like a small miracle. He couldn’t help but feel smug at the dazed look of pleasure on her face.

“I can’t decide if you have a death wish or not.”   

“I think I would be a fool not to kiss you when you threw yourself at me.”

“I did not throw myself at you.”

“You have my permission to do it anytime.”

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll decide this was all a mistake.” She laughed softly.

“Then may tomorrow never come.”

And he pulled her that much closer to him.

Chapter Text

Hermione

A kiss wasn’t enough. Two kisses weren’t enough. Five. A lost track of the number amount of kisses.  Hermione only wanted more of him. More of this night. It certainly wasn’t enough for Hermione’s vampire.

The feel of skin against skin was driving her to the edge of her control. Her vampire begged her to keep going, to writhe against him, to bite. She had to be the one to pull away every time, before she reached a point where she couldn’t keep her vampire at bay. And she hated it. With one last nip at his neck, she pushed her body off of his.   

Draco gave her space but didn’t let her go far. The pair of them ended up on one of the ballroom sofas with Hermione tucked into Draco’s side. She nestled her face into Draco’s shirt, breathing deeply, careful not to touch any part of him that wasn’t covered in fabric.

She’d hoped that knowing what it was like to touch him would make the feelings she had lessen but it seemed to be the opposite. Touching him made her greedy. She was so in her own head she almost didn’t notice Draco was in pain. He winced at the pressure of her on his arm. And just like that, the afterglow dissipated.

Hermione frowned. “You should have told me your arm still hurt.” She would have been gentler with him if she’d known.

Draco only pulled her more firmly against him. “It is fully healed. I promise. The new skin is just tender.”

Even with Draco’s verbal denial, Hermione didn’t believe him for a second. She pushed up his sleeve to check that he wasn’t lying to her.

Hermione expected to see the dark mark, but there was more ink than that on his forearm. She couldn’t help but reach out and run her finger over the new tattoo there. Black roses skirted the back of his hand to his elbow, covering the mark underneath.   

Draco must have gotten it recently. He’d kept it covered most of the time. but Hermione knew she’d seen it at soon as a month ago.  

“I couldn’t look at it one more second, and every spell and potion never got rid of it so I figured the muggle way would have to work.”

It was a poetic end.

“Roses?”

It couldn’t be a coincidence that he chose the flower from the gardens behind the Manor.

Draco nodded. “My mom’s roses remind me of home. Sometimes I think she loved those flowers more than me.”

He kept talking about himself. The parts he’d kept from her. His vulnerabilities and fears. And she paid him in kind by telling him stories of her own. Draco hung on her every word.

As they talked, Draco played with Hermione’s fingers absentmindedly. Just the movement seemed to be lulling Draco to sleep.

“You can go to bed.” Hermione didn’t mean for it come off so bossy, but it did anyway. Draco tried to deny it, but there was no denying his dropping eyelids. “You’ve had a long day. It’s not like I’m going to be the one to go to sleep first.”

“I’m worried that if I move, that this moment will be over, and you’ll go back to avoiding me. That this was a fluke.”

Draco brought her hand up to his lips, and Hermione was mesmerized by the motion. She looked for any sign of insincerity but there was none.

“I didn’t think this through only to change my mind after one kiss,” Hermione said.  Draco scrutinized her face, like he didn’t quite believe her, like he was dreaming this. “Go to sleep. You’ll have plenty of time to fuck things up when you’re awake.”

And just like that his half smile that twisted her stomach into knots was back.  

“I guess I’ll go if you’re going to be bossy about it.”

Hermione kissed him one more time. One last, chaste, not enough kiss.

Draco slipped past every boundary that Hermione had in the best of ways. He was with her whenever his schedule allowed, but she never got tired of him. It was like he was always meant to be there. Like he simply fit. When Hermione worked, Draco would settle in some chair with his accounts or sometimes, endearingly, a book. He would smile behind people’s backs at her, as if they shared a monumental secret.  

There were different physical boundaries that Hermione wasn’t used to. The cuff kept him always at a reach. Touching was something agreed upon before it happened.

Hermione made up for the lack of physical spontaneity by taking every chance she could to look at him. At the tattoo his forearm, or the muscles at his shoulder. He was all lean strength. Sometimes Draco caught her looking, he never shied from it. He practically glowed from the attention.

It was difficult not to lose control with him when they touched. The vampire impulses would have been happy letting Draco push her up against a wall and take her. Only the human side of her worried that whatever was between them was too fragile to handle that. And there was the fact that even kissing was throwing her mind into chaos. Taking it further would lead to an unplanned bite.  

It was all so frustrating, when Hermione wanted much more than what was happening. Most nights she had to find a corner of the Manor to take care of herself. She would run her fingers over her cunt to the ghost sensation of Draco’s hands over her body. Taking the edge off of but never satisfying.  

Even sitting at the table across from her, Draco managed to be distracting. The way he tapped his fingers against the table should not have been as enticing as it was.

Grey eyes snapped to Hermione’s. “Dead end?”

“I’ve stared at this so long that the words lost all meaning.”

“I’d gladly switch if you feel so inclined to do repetitive math.”

Math sounded loads better than the mess she was trying to make sense of. Hermione held out her hand to take the paper from Draco, and Draco quirked up an eyebrow, like he didn’t actually expect her to take up the offer.  

Draco let the paper ghost across her hand and then pulled it back before she could take hold of it.

“These are my private finances. You realize. Not to share.”  

Hermione narrowed her eyes, until she realized that he was joking. She’d never seen Draco be this free. She couldn’t help but smile at it. It was intoxicating.

She took the paper and Draco said “I’m taking this as confirmation that you can keep it a secret.”

Pouring over the accounting sheets was a nice change. It was nice to work through the numbers. Easy math that she was making progress with. Hermione was so busy she didn’t notice Draco watching her, which unfortunately she also got a thrill at.

“The deal was to switch work, not to stare.”

“I’m afraid that I’m useless at this.”

“Then this was all a ruse to get me to do your work?”

“Maybe.” The side of Draco’s mouth quirked up in a devastating smile. “Doesn’t mean I don’t have ideas for you.”  Hermione raised her brows as if to say go ahead. “Blaise looked at this?”

“Your great idea is for me to talk to my research partner?”

“That’s not the idea. Just a clarifying question.”

Hermione obviously asked Blaise and Blaise was just as at a loss as she was. “We can’t think of a way to separate the vampire venom from the blood either without major cell death.”  

“You can kill the venom, but you’d kill the vampire along with it?”

“Yes. So, your idea was?”

“Have you had Theo look this over?” Hermione let out a disbelieving huff. “You’ve come a remarkable way on your own, but it’s not a fault to ask for another opinion.” 

Little did he know that was one of the more difficult things for her to do.

“I know it’s stupid, but it feels like I’m the one who is supposed to come up with the answers.”

Draco didn’t tell her she was stupid for thinking that. She wouldn’t have listened to false platitudes anyway.

“Jokes on you. Now that I know you have all of the answers, I’ll give you more accounting to do.”  

“You’d trust me to work your bills?”

“You’ve got to earn your keep somehow.”

Hermione frowned as he poked at her insecurity. She’d never gotten over feeling like burden to him, and now she’d only complicated that.

“A joke Granger.”

Draco came around the table and kissed the side of her neck. It was a clunky process with the cuff but her took the time to do it, nonetheless.

“That’s not going to work every time,” Hermione said. But having him wrap his arms around her made her feel grounded.  

“But it’s bound to work some of the time.”

Chapter Text

Hermione

The room, or rather guest suite, that Draco gave Hermione was nearly as big as her apartment. She’d insisted that they pick up some of her things so that the room didn’t feel like a museum.

Deciding what to take to the Manor proved to be more complicated than Hermione expected. Would she big back here eventually? Did she trust her fragile sanity to protect the objects most dear to her? In the end she took some her clothing, some pictures, books and furniture. She was particularly pleased with her reading chair that now sat near the window with a view of the rose gardens and the forest beyond.  

Crookshanks supervised her redecorating from the top of the vanity, watching Hermione with interest as she fussed over the room. The cat wasn’t sure what to make of the new accommodations yet, nor the new collar around his neck for his protection. He kept trying to throw it off, but Draco had the foresight to charm it to stay on. Neither cat nor wizard warmed to each other by the ordeal of putting the collar on.

The choice to bring the cat at all had also been difficult, but he’d been alone in that apartment too long, and even Neville’s overnight stays weren’t enough for a bored cat. The first sign of stress he showed in the Manor and Crookshanks would go back, but so far, he seemed unbothered. Not by his new surroundings, and not by Hermione’s transformation. He had full access to the suite but was chose to stay near her.

Hermione’s things vastly improved the sterility of the room. She was particularity proud of the quilt she’d brought. It was the first quilt that she’d sewn, and it was not the most well-constructed, but it was charming in its imperfection. She laid it at the end of the bed, and it felt a little bit more like home. It felt like a beginning.  

Draco

An inconvenient part of dating a vampire was they always managed to catch you looking at them. Draco hadn’t meant to distract Granger from whatever acts of war she was waging against his mother’s interior design. He found that he liked having Hermione in the Manor; he specifically liked having her across the hall from his room.  

Hermione’s face lit up when she saw him, and as soon as he took off his cuff she was in his arms. They hadn’t gotten a moment of privacy for themselves in far too long, and Draco marveled at how easy it was to miss someone that was next to him.

Maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to fear the woman in front of him. It felt like he was the one in danger of losing control. Being so close to her and not touching her was unbearable. Though even Draco’s affection for her couldn’t stop the snide remark that came out of his mouth.

“You know. I think the only thing this room was missing was that quilt.”  

“Be nice. I made that.”

“And it shows in every stitch.”

“You are cruel.”

“Can’t help myself.”

A wicked smile cross Hermione’s face. One that showed her fangs. “I could make you one.”

“Hmm.” Draco trailed kisses down her chin and the side of her neck, hoping to banish that thought from her pretty little head. 

“What colors should I use? Green obviously and black of course.”

“You’ve got much more important things to focus on.”

“And yellow?”

Draco quieted her with a kiss, unable to hear more about this Godforsaken quilt. 

Maybe it was the mere suggestion of a bed that heightened everything or that they hadn’t kissed in a while, but there was a new edge of desperation in the way they clung to each other.

Draco guided her slow step by slow step until her thighs hit the bed. He pulled back to check that she was still there with him, and to catch his breath. Hermione surprised him by playing with the bottom of his shirt and touching the skin near his waistband. Draco’ obliged her and pulled his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor. He felt like a god with her looking at him like she did. Like he was whole and wanted.

Any hesitation that might have been between them dissipated when Hermione pulled Draco down to the bed next to her. Draco knew she was feeling every plain of his body with her pressed to him like she was, but he was tired of hiding. Let her feel his response to her.  

Draco slipped his hand under her shirt, keeping to the most demure of places until he couldn’t take it.

“I’d like to see you too.”

Hermione lifted her shirt off, and she wasn’t wearing much under it. Her bra was lacy and thin, hiding little of her lush curves. She took his breath away. Every part of her.

When they came together again, they did so unhurried. Hermione crawled over him and Draco groaned at the feel of her body over his, of her legs straddling him.

Fuck control. Draco held her to him by her hips, letting his hands roam up her sides, to her neck, and her breasts. He was rewarded by her yielding all of her body weight to him and, burying her face in the side of his neck as he explored her. Draco didn’t know how he was going to stop touching her. How much of this would be enough.

Draco didn’t know when he’d pushed too far or asked too much of her. There wasn’t a moment he noticed she’d crossed over some threshold, but one moment she was fine, and the next instinct took over. The switch caught him off guard.

Hermione gripped his wrists, too tight, holding him down. Her front teeth nipped at his skin, hard enough to bruise. Draco wanted to thrash but instead something told him to be still. He wanted to reach for his wand, but it was across the room. Hermione’s eyes were swirling black. Nothing but predatory intent in them. No one knew he was in this room. He considered yelling for help, but he didn’t want to spook the vampire currently rolling her hips against him.

Draco’s heart pounded, and he occulated so he could think clearly. His stillness did little to stop the vampire that was running her hands all over him. Whatever was happening in her head was still sexual. Draco focused on how he could get a hold of his wand or make her snap back to herself without spooking her and making the situation worse.

“Hermione,” Draco crooned, gently pushing her with his hips, trying to bring her back.

Fangs skirted his neck as hands roamed over his body, settling on his stomach, too low. She kept him pinned to the bed.  

“Hermione. Slow down.” He’d made his voice sweet as honey but all he got was a growl in response.

Patient. He had to be patient. To wait for the moment.

“Sweetheart. Come back to me.”

The opening came when Hermione shifted her weight just a little.

Draco wrapped his legs around her and flipped her, so he was on top of her, pushing her down with all his weight, putting a forearm to her chest.

“Accio wand.” And before Hermione could come out of whatever feeding stupor she was in, he had a wand to her throat.

Draco hesitated to cast a spell. It should have cost him. It was enough time for her to attack. The snarl that escaped her throat sounded like he was dead. But the surprise was enough to bring Hermione back in control.

As Draco caught his breath, he could see Hermione’s pupils change as she shoved the predatory part of her away.  Hermione tried to scramble away from him, but he held her down by his hips. She had more than enough strength to push him off, but she stayed where she was.   

Draco tried to keep his words steady but the tremor in them gave his fear away. “You’re fine. You’re back.” He monitored his breathing, making sure to suck air deep into his chest.    

There had to be something to say to make the situation better. Something to assuage the guilt that shown on Hermione’s face clear as day. Draco knew instinctively that he couldn’t let her break contact with him. Something told him that if she did, she’d be too scared to try it again. But Draco slid to the side of her, cradling her in his arms.  

Finally, she spoke. “Draco. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh. None of that.” He whispered into her hair, petting it in an attempt to calm both of them.    

The truth was it was too close. They’d made a sloppy mistake. Hermione hadn’t eaten that day, because they’d been in her apartment. And then Draco had made another mistake, when he didn’t have his wand. He couldn’t afford to be careless next time.    

Draco let Hermione lecture him about how foolish they were. How this was a bad idea. But she never pulled away.

But Draco made up his mind. Not that the incident didn’t scare him. They simply wouldn’t be sloppy going forward. No mistakes. If anything, this proved that Draco was safer with her than he’d thought. He’d been bitten enough times to know that even her vampire side didn’t want him seriously injured. Or at least there was time before it happened.  

“We’ll find the line. We’ll simply have to keep practicing.”  

Hermione settled deeper against him, curling up into his chest as he stroked her hair, but he couldn’t help but double-check that his wand was easily accessible in his thigh holster.

Astoria

Pansy was not back at the time she promised she would be. Which meant that Pansy stayed at her mother’s for after dinner drinks. Which meant that Pansy was finding her visit with her mother tolerable and Amaryllis managed to get her claws into her daughter once again. It was like watching a moth fly into an open flame, over and over again.

Astoria long ago learned that fighting it only made Pansy mad at her, so all she could do was wait to watch it fall apart again. It made her feel helpless.  

Realizing that Pansy wasn’t coming home for a while, Astoria conceded to the fact that she should also eat something. She was nauseous today but knew that if she didn’t force herself to eat her illness would be all the worse for it.  

Draco was eating his dinner in the kitchen alone. It was the first time that Astoria had seen him without Granger in weeks. He pulled out the chair next to him without being asked to help, because he knew that moving the heavy kitchen chairs was difficult for Astoria.

Astoria wanted to ask why Draco’s hair was so messy but was pretty sure she knew reason anyway. Anyone could see Hermione and him were closer than ever. His hair betrayed everything. It was never neat when Pansy and him discovered how good it felt to make out. Astoria felt almost bad that she was so caught up in her own problems that she couldn’t even be happy for her friend. But she supposed friendship was meant to support both ways. It was only that usually all she could contribute was listening to her friends’ problems. And she was good at that. She didn’t know how to be in the other side of it.  

“I want to go over there and give her a piece of my mind, but I can’t.”

Draco nodded. “The best thing that we can do is let her make the mistake again.”

“I’m so tired of Pansy never learning,” Astoria admitted. 

“I know, but we’ll pick up the pieces again when it does.”

Astoria narrowed her eyes at Draco. He was never this optimistic. “It seems like there’s less and less pieces to pick up every time.”

“It’s all your fault, you know.”

“My fault? You think I want this?”

“Her mother is the only family that Pansy has left, and she’s scared of losing her now more than ever and they really do love each other in their incompatible ways.”

The house elves magicked a bowl of potato soup in front of Astoria. Something to eat with her upset stomach.

The worst of it was that Astoria saw what was so admirable about Pansy’s mother. She’d been barely out of Hogwarts when she was married off to Pansy’s father. A domineering man that was fifteen years her senior. By all accounts Amaryllis spent all of her time in the Parkinson Manor alone, raising her children. Then she and her children were dragged into a war against her will.

The Parkinson name should have crumbled when Pansy’s father and brother went to Azkaban, but it didn’t. It was Amaryllis who took over the medical business, ran it and now it was thriving more than before. A weaker woman in her position would have crumbled ten times over, but Amaryllis thrived. Astoria saw why Pansy admired her mother.

If only Amaryllis weathered the heartache better. The world was cruel to her, and she was cruel in return. The only thing that mattered was herself and her children. But she didn’t see Pansy as her own person, only an extension of her own personhood. It led to a cycle of love bombing and rejection that Pansy fell for again and again.

Astoria was pulled out of her thoughts by a soft sound and light emanating from Draco’s cuff. Only his.

“What does that mean?”

What scared her more than anything was the fact that Draco had gone pale.

“The wards. Someone tripped the wards.” 

Chapter Text

Draco

Draco disapperated from the kitchen table to the place where the ward tripped. He found himself at the back of the Manor, near the forest’s edge. There was no one visible. Draco paced at the sight of the alert, wand up, but there was nothing around him but trees and bramble.

Astoria apparated beside him. Draco wanted to tell her to leave. Apparating was too much magic for her, let alone whatever spell she’d cast to walk as smoothly as she was. Not that she was bad back-up if it came to a fight. His feelings weren’t relevant as Tori didn’t give him a chance to dismiss her. “Do not even entertain that idea that I am leaving you alone.”

Draco felt murderous, the piece of himself that never escaped the war coming to the surface. He tried to oculate, but it wasn’t sticking. The attempt only made him more and more frustrated until he gave up on the occlumency altogether.   

“Persona revelio,” Draco cast. He was in a defensive position, bracing, but the spell revealed nothing. His skin pricked at the thought that someone was out there that they couldn’t see.

As they searched and still saw nothing suspicious, Draco’s brain tried to rationalize the alert. A false detection at the wards was possible but highly improbable. But he knew in his gut that someone set off the Manor’s wards. Wards that hadn’t been tripped since the war, which likely meant that someone was looking for Granger.

“Find Hermione and tell her to stay away from the windows,” Draco Told Astoria.  

“I would rather deal with a pissed off hippogriff.”

“Please Tori.” Whatever pleading she heard in his voice was enough to get her to disapparate. At the least he could keep them safe.

The timing was too perfect. None of Draco’s friends were around. Theo was abroad, and Amaryllis would sniff out that something was wrong if he pulled Pansy away from dinner. There was Blaise, but God knew what he was doing on a Saturday night. Draco sent out an alert anyway.

Then Draco started a methodical search of the grounds and forest. The more he walked without finding anything the angrier he became. He was on edge, ready to dust the first living he saw. Draco would have a preferred a fight. He felt alive at the end of another’s wand. This, searching and finding nothing, was far worse.   

Blaise joined Draco’s search and Crabbe and then Potter and Weasley. They walked the boundary and beyond, looking, but no one was there. Not even a hint of a person.

Weasley apparated next to Draco, and Draco startle, raising his wand.

“Easy.” Weasley cautioned, like he was talking to a skittish horse. “It’s your call when you want to stop looking but I don’t think there’s a point. I don’t think there’s anything to find.”  

“Then keep looking.”

The realization that there was nothing to do made Draco want to set something on fire. It was embarrassing to have someone sneak into the Manor and get away without a clue of who they are.  

Weasley responded to Draco’s desperation with stoicism. “Look. I get it, but she’s safe. The wards didn’t let them in.” When Draco couldn’t get out of his head to respond fast enough, Ron tried again. “Right?”

“You tell me. You’re the professional.”

“I’m not taking the bait anymore. You want to fight I’m sure Hermione’s ready to bite your head off by now.”

Draco reluctantly called the search off well into the night, not entirely convinced there wasn’t anything to find. Part of the season he’d stayed out until nearly dawn was that he felt foolish that someone breeched the ward on his watch. He should have done a better job. Draco promised Hemione that she was safe with him, and this called all that into question. His gut told him to stay outside.  

Pansy was the first person Draco came across. “You could have gotten a hold of me.”

“We handled it fine.”

“Yes. The empty forest seems under control. I talked to your mother in the floo. She very nearly came back from France to check on things, but I convinced her not to.”

Draco couldn’t manage a thank you. There was nothing like a mention of your mother to make you feel incompetent.

“Take a minute before you go in there. You look unhinged.”

Pansy’s warning sobered him enough to slip into his occlumency. He felt like a pot of water just about to boil, when the water began to bubble under the service.

Hermione accosted him as soon as he walked into the room for an explanation. Astoria told her nothing, leaving him with all the responsibility of it. So, Draco told her, his occlumency barely keeping him together.

“And we’re positive it was a person and not, say a deer?”

“It caught a magic signature.”

Hermione was too calm. “And did you find who did it?”

“There’s nothing out there to trace.”

Hermione took in the information as calmly as if someone told her that her afternoon meeting was cancelled. But undeniable anger flooded her face, and Draco didn’t have to wait long to find out what she was mad about.

“And you’re first inclination was to lock me away?”

Draco sighed. “I made a choice under pressure. The safest choice I could. If circumstances were different then I’d want you right there next to me, but this is reality.”

Why couldn’t she see that it was the right choice? What was with her need to throw herself into every available danger?

“I’m even more of an asset now. You know I can perceive things you can’t. Maybe we know this person, or maybe there’s a clue you can’t detect but I can’t. A smell, a footprint.”

“No. You’re staying in here until we know it’s safe to go out.”

Hermione reacted as if he’d slapped her. “No?

“No. Just because we didn’t find anything doesn’t mean that someone’s not still out there.”  

“You’re keeping me locked in here indefinitely?”

“Do you understand how bad it would be for anyone else to know that you’re here? They could have reported us to the Ministry if they saw you.”  

“It’s going to get out eventually,” Hermione said.

The reaction in Draco’s gut was nearly enough to break the veneer of his occlumency. “We are, under any circumstances telling the Ministry about you.”

The idea of Hermione at the Ministry’s mercy made him want to vomit. It wasn’t happening. It couldn’t happen.

“Isn’t my choice in the end? What happens to me?”

“Not when it’s a foolish choice.”

“Foolish?”

Astoria took the chance to make an excuse to leave, leaving him alone to deal with the fall out.

Draco wanted to back down and tell her whatever she wanted. They’d figure it out. But he couldn’t let it happen at the expense of her safety. He couldn’t handle it if his inaction caused something bad to happen to her. So, he leaned on his occlumency and dug his feet in, knowing she’d hate him for it. Whatever was starting to take shape between them, he’d miss dearly.

Astoria

One simple word and a powder keg went off. Hermione’s temper burned bright and ran hot. An anger all her own. Compared to Draco’s cold absolution it was anyone’s guess who would yield first, if either of them ever did. It was a fight of attrition.

Astoria, sensing that neither would want an audience left them to hash it out, left and kept everyone out of the room, though it did little good. Draco and Hermione were yelling at each other loud enough to be heard in the adjoining hall. Astoria didn’t think that Draco was in danger, but she did want to be in earshot, just in case.

Crabbe threw out a bet. “If it goes to fists Draco’s got to win it right?”

“You’re forgetting that Hermione is Draco’s soft spot.” Pansy said. “He probably couldn’t bring himself to cast a spell. Probably let her drain him dry.”

“And like it,” Blaise added.

Harry looked horrified at the Slytherin’s cold amusement.   

“Such a mild lover’s quarrel,” Crabbe said.  

Pansy felt the need to inform the group of Draco and Hermione’s situation based on all the confused faces. “They’re snogging. At the least.”

No one was surprised at that news. If anything, there was more shock that it had taken them so lone.   

“Hermione never told you guys she wanted to the tell the Ministry?” Harry said.

“No. Or Draco would have put her back in that dungeon to keep her from doing it,” Pansy said.   

Astoria gave Pansy a nudge in the ribs.

“Why would Hermione want to tell the Ministry?” Astoria asked.

“She feels like she’d being selfish keeping this partial cure to herself. That the Ministry can help implement it,” Harry said.

Foolish indeed. Still believing the Ministry was the hero. It was a view that felt horribly naïve.

“There are other ways to do that, without yielding all of your power to the Ministry.”

“We know it’s not perfect, but shouldn’t we be telling people?” Ron said. “Hermione wants this whole mess to have some purpose.”

Astoria knew that it was a hard thing to deal with for everyone, but she wondered if they weren’t as accustomed to the idea as she’d previously thought. She wondered what she could say to make them understand.

“I can’t know everything, but I do know that by turning in her research to the ministry you’re putting the power in their hands. Are you willing to let the Ministry decide the fate of your friend?”

“No,” Harry admitted.

“Then we can’t let them know about her.” 

Ron’s mouth settled into a hard line and Harry looked like he wanted to be sick.

“So, this is it? For her?”

“For now.”

Hermione

Hermione couldn’t see why Draco was being entirely unreasonable. Of course, her condition was going to get out eventually. Whether she told the Ministry or not. Someone out there knew. And when it did she wanted it to be by her choice, and her timing. But no matter what she said Draco wouldn’t budge.  

“I’m the proof this works. No one is going to trust it unless they talk to me.”

“You’d let this out at your own expense?”

Hermione didn’t even respond to him. There were no words for how he was trying to bully her into compliance. This was her choice to make.  

“Have you thought about us? You being here is a jail sentence. For me, Pansy, Astoria at least.”

Cold, grey eyes stared her down. She’d almost forgotten how he could be. Impossible. Arrogant.

“I have to or this was all for nothing. We can negotiate. We can ask for immunity beforehand.”

“It is not your duty to cure a disease that has existed as long as the written word. Vampirism is not your responsibility.”

“But even now, people are turning, and we could help them.” 

Draco scoffed at her like she was being silly. “With what money? Mine? The Malfoy fortune is vast but even it will run out eventually. Well before we’ve even made a difference. Do you know how much of a financial burden you are?”  

Hermione could not believe that he was using that against her. The cost wasn’t the point. Had never been the point.

“Apologies for being expensive. I didn’t realize my sanity was a financial burden.”

 “The consequence might be your death. You realize this? Vampires are still kill on sight. If this secret gets out you could be taken and none of us will have a choice then.” Draco’s occlumency crumbled like it had turned to sand. “I will not let you be a martyr. I won’t see you go like that. I can’t do it.”

Hermione would have preferred his anger. She didn’t know what to do with this desperation.

Draco scrambled to get himself back under control, but he couldn’t. His eyes flashed between immovable gray walls and unimaginable hurt. Hermione’s anger evaporated with nothing to rail against.  

“Think about it. Please, just think about it because it puts you at risk in ways that I can’t accept.”

Hermione didn’t know what to think anymore, about any of it. She felt overwhelmed by the enormity of it all.

“I’ll think about it. I can promise you that, but I need to know that it’s my choice in the end.”

Draco nodded, looking to be on as unstable ground as she was.

Chapter Text

Hermione

When Hermione needed time to think over something important, she baked. But the Malfoy Manor did not have a kitchen that could be used without magic and Hermione did not want Draco to help her. Everyone else exhausted her.

Hermione wasn’t much of a help, but she could prep ingredients. Her potion was made at the Knott Manor, but Astoria’s was brewed in the Malfoy potion’s kitchen.

The potion that Astoria took, much like the one she did, only relieved symptoms of her curse. Both nasty illnesses that buried themselves in the blood like tree roots. But where you could say vampirism strengthened Hermione in its own twisted way, Astoria’s weakened her. A slow decline of the body until the disease won.   

Hermione took her time chopping and drying the shrivelfig from the pantry, weighing it to the exact proportions. Something she appreciated about the Manor was that everything in it had a history. The metal scale was embossed with the initials of some previous user.    

All of the people who frequented the Manor left her alone. Even Draco. Part of her wanted to seek him out and or let him find her, to put words to what made him such an ass about the whole situation. But she also appreciated the space. She needed solitude and he gave it to her.  

There was some talk of moving to another Manor after the wards were tripped, but only briefly. The protection spells in the Malfoy Manor were by far the strongest, and nothing like them could be replicated on short notice. If they panicked and started over somewhere new, they would be left more vulnerable.   

The thing was, Hermione felt sure that she was correct. She didn’t want to process, she wanted people to see her side. At least one person out there knew about her. One ruthless person who could let vampirism secret slip at any time.

If they told everyone know, they would have the upper hand. The Ministry was slow and clunky and easily swayed but they did have the means to help under the right circumstances. This would be a win for them. And at the very least she wanted the potion out there so people who turned could come back.  

But Draco was right too. The potion was expensive. She’d thought that it would be a detail that they’d figure out later. And there was public safety to consider. Giving the general population a formula to kill vampires could do more danger than good. It wasn’t like the average wizard was equipped to contain a vampire. 

But Draco didn’t need to fling it in her face like he did. Like he had the final say in everything.

 After the shrivelfig was prepared, Hermione moved onto the asphodel root. She washed all the soil from the roots and hung them on the drying rack. Working with something that came from the soil always soothed her, and even in this strange home, under these circumstances, the repetitive task calmed her.     

Neville of all people was the one to ignore her request for solitude. At least he looked bashful about disturbing her.

“I know that you wanted time to think, but I have something that I want to tell you.” Neville took a breath, like he was saying something monumental. “I wanted to tell you that you don’t have to be stuck here. That if you ever wanted to leave, I’d find a way to get you out.”

Hermione gave him a half smile. “I appreciate the sentiment but I’m alright here. Really.”

Neville meant it though, and she appreciated him for offering. Hermione wouldn’t take the offer, but she did feel better knowing there was an option. Knowing that she could leave if she wanted to. Neville had found a way to give her choice back.

Neville’s eyes softened when he looked at her, and Hermione bristled at little at the pity in them, though she tried not to. “It’s not a sentiment. If you want to leave this place, I’ll get you out. You say the word and we’ll run.

“Thanks Neville.” Hermione wanted to hug him, for going to a war and back and staying as kind as he was.  

Though Draco’s harshness didn’t bother Hermione as much as it seemed to bother Neville. Hermione understood that Draco’s emotion came from a place of fear. She knew him well enough that the breach scared him, and he’d cracked under the pressure. He’d gladly face down a dragon, but the thought of someone knowing about her made him afraid. It was no excuse for his controlling behavior, but Hermione understood it.  

By the time Hermione worked through some of the tension she felt, she’d prepped enough ingredients for nearly six months of Astoria’s potion, and she felt ready to untangle this complicated mess of intentions and possibilities.

Hermione missed having a secret. It wasn’t that Hermione didn’t want to tell anyone about what was happening between her and Draco or that she was ashamed, it was only that her life had been so public. It was nice having something for herself. And now everyone knew. Everyone knew they’d been sneaking around behind people’s backs, and they weren’t anymore. And no one was nosier than the Slytherins, especially when they’d been drinking. 

Hermione managed not to look at Draco that much and spent most of the night with Astoria, though she knew Draco was stealing glances at her. No doubt wondering why she’d joined them in the parlor now, what had changed. She couldn’t help steal glances at him too. Enough to notice that he wasn’t drinking, and that he was wearing the shirt that she liked. The blue one that made his eyes lighter, like the iridescent water hit by sunlight.  

Even if what they had was over, the Slytherins wanted to hear about the details of what might have been Draco’s longest relationship since Hogwarts. That was what Hermione assumed Theo wanted to talk about.

Theo sat down on the floor next to her, always resisting sitting normally in a chair for some unknown reason. “You are a very difficult vampire to find time to talk to.”

"Sorry. I have no gossip about Draco to share." 

"Draco? God no. I’m so tired of talking about him. It seems like we do nothing but talk about him."

It wasn’t like Theo and her talked much. If anything, something about Theo made her uncomfortable, like he was trying too hard to get people to like him.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You're not coming over here to talk about Draco?"

"You think I care when he got that stupid 'I kissed a girl' look on his face. Please. I'm here because I have a business proposition for you. Has anyone talked with about investing in your research?”

“There are so many offers, I have to scare them off with my fangs.”

Theo stared at her. “I’m not talking because I like the sound of my voice here.” 

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. Wouldn’t you want a career out of this?”

Career. That was a laugh. Who would invest in someone that couldn’t leave the house?

“I don’t want to be your charity.”

Theo looked bemused by how skeptical she was. “Do you want me to spell it out? I have money. I want more money. You’re a good investment and will put more galleons in my Gringotts account.” 

Goodness, he was serious.

“I’m not a stable investment.”

“You’re risky sure, but also a fantastic investment because all you do is work. All of my employees combined can’t compare.”

Hermione hadn’t thought about Theo much at all, but never did she think that someone under thirty would be running a business that was thriving enough to make such a risky investment.

“I don’t think I’m worth it.”

"This is why you're the perfect person to do business with because you don't think about screwing people over. So pure of heart."

“Pure of heart enough to make the ingredients to this public out of social responsibility.”

The suggestion that she might publicly release it did not phase Theo. He’d thought it through.  

“There’s still money to be made even if you made the potion public. You think that people will track all those ingredients down themselves. They’ll pay for convenience.”

“I’d insist on a small profit margin.”

“Fine.” Maybe Hermione was the perfect person to do business with because clearly, she didn’t understand it. “It’s not the vampire potion I’m interested in, it’s the long-term implications of it. Your potion could launch a new class of drugs. That will be profitable.”  When Hermione didn’t respond right away Theo pressed the matter. “You think the Ministry can do better?”

“Why does everyone think that I’m that naïve?”

Theo put his hands up like he was calming a dog. “Easy. Didn’t mean to strike a nerve. We don’t think you’re naïve. We think you’re used to being on the Ministry’s side.”

“The Ministry had so much success with the werewolf initiate. I thought I could force their hand to do something similar here.”

Theo snorted. “Did you ever think that maybe we have more experience on the business side of this than you? Did you ever think to workshop things with us?” Hermione hadn’t, but then she wasn’t used to talking about her process with others in general. She was an independent worker, and it had worked so far for her. “The werewolf situation was lighting in a bottle. Mrs. Parkinson needed to gain goodwill, she was in a position to lose money to charity work and the Ministry supported it because they needed to seem effective after their severe blunder with their denial of the return of the dark lord. Health initiatives look good after so much death.”

“You’re telling me that the most effective campaign in public health, the one that reduced bites to a nearly negligible transmission rate, was a public relations move?”

“That is exactly what I am telling you.”

“Even if that’s all it was. Surely the net positive means that it’s something we should replicate. Even if it was a public relations thing, a lot of good came out of it.”

“How utilitarianism of you. If I had to choose, I’d go with Kantian ethics myself, but I think we lack the capacity to define the breath of human existence.”

Theo looked slightly haunted, the talk of business forgotten for the moment.

“Where were you during the war, Theo?”

Hermione couldn’t remember where’d he’d been then. Theo largely remained out of the public’s interest.

“No one can change a topic like you. I was Holed up in Knott Manor, being my father’s assistant as he performed all of his experiments.”

“Like what?”

“Mostly experiments that my father wanted to try for years that would never have been sanctioned the Ministry. Torturous ones.” He didn’t elaborate nor did Hermione want him to.

“They didn’t…?” She stopped herself from asking the question on her mind. Her curiosity made her too nosy sometimes.

“You can ask what you’re thinking. I’m not fragile.”

“You never did time in Azkaban?”

“I made a deal. Everything about the experiments I helped with, for no time served. Wickedness is tolerated when it’s useful.”

“What do you think Granger? Would you take on a reformed Slytherin as your business partner?”

Unaffected by her protests Hermione had to assume that Theo was serious about this. “Depends on what you have to offer me.”

“As a businessman who is meant to have no thought but the bottom line, I have to point out that I am the only possible person you can work with. In that context you’ll take what I offer you. But Draco will have my hide if I rip you off, so I’ll think of some things and get back to you when we sign the contract.”

“Just because I have no options does not mean that I want your pity.”

“Pity is it, Granger? No. You and I are going to make piles of money together.” Hermione gave him a stern look. “And perform miracles with modern medicine that bring people back to sanity for which we will be saints and get oodles of fulfillment from our good deeds.”

“You’ll have to come up with a good deal for me that gives me plenty of agency in distribution and final price. And because I’ll only work with people who actually want to heal people in health care.”

 “Trying to appeal to my better nature Granger?”

“You must have one.”

Theo laughed a true laugh. “Am I good now? By no stretch of the imagination. Am I more moral than I was? Certainly. Evil men co-op definitions of good and bad. I’ve seen supposedly good men terrorize their wives and men who think they’re scum perform the most profound acts of kindness. Sometimes I think the only universal human experience is hypocrisy.” 

Once Theo relaxed and stopped trying too hard and had a few drinks he wasn’t bad to talk to. Though he barely took a breath between sentences. Very few people would talk to Hermione about medical manufacturing at a social gathering, but Theo was happy to.  

Hermione lost track of everything else, happy to listen to Theo chatter on and was only dragged out of it by Draco looking at her. Hermione met his gaze, and he was the one to quickly look away. Theo caught the interaction.

“I don’t know what was between you too, but I do know that Draco has a small list of people he worries about, and I think somewhere along the way, you got added to that list.”  

Draco

Draco wanted a firewhiskey badly, but he didn’t indulge. Sustaining was a hopeful act. That just maybe he hadn’t fucked everything up with Hermione beyond repair.

He was surprised when she’d joined them for drinks, but not surprised that he avoided her all night. Theo was monopolizing most of her time, but he finally got up to refresh his drink; conveniently about the time that Draco got up his courage to go talk to her.  

Hermione was sat on the end of the couch, legs tucked under her, with a hand under her chin. Her eyes followed him as he crossed the room, and they didn’t seem hostile, so he took a chance and sat next to her, nearly shoulder to shoulder.  

Draco didn’t have something planned to say, so he said the first thing that came to his head. “Are you doing alright sober amongst all these degenerates?”

It wasn’t the most graceful opening, but she did smile.

“Do I count as sober? If I have a monster telling me to do impulsive things in my head?”

“I suppose there are some similarities. The monster only seems to want food and sex.”

Hermione gave Draco his favorite look, the exasperated one. The one that conveyed she was tired form his antics and the one that made him feel like they were in on some grand secret together.  

Draco spoke softly, barely over a whisper so no one else in the room could hear him but her. “I’m sorry that I didn’t handle that well and I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t know that I don’t still stand by the intention, but I had no right to throw any of it in your face like that. I let my frustration get the better of me.”

If anything, Hermione looked more suspicious at Draco’s apology. He felt like he messed something up, only he didn’t understand what. He’d apologized. It was sincere, and she wasn’t buying it.  

“You jumped to the assumption that I didn’t know the risks. That I hadn’t thought it through.”

“And I’m sorry. I should have trusted that you had. I should know you better than that.”

Hermione still didn’t trust his intentions, not fully anyway. And it was very unlike him, to admit wrongdoing. “I understand that it was coming from a place of concern, but you didn’t even let me get a word in. You were being a complete ass.”

“Unfortunately, I’m famous for that.” Hermione waited for him to explain further. “Look. I’m not an easy-going person and it was the first time since that war that I’d felt that kind of panic. It brought everything back and I couldn’t handle the fact that I’d failed.”

Draco held his breath, waiting for a reaction. Whether Hermione was aware or not, the next words out of her mouth were of the utmost importance to him. He wasn’t sure whether he’d ruined his chance. It felt impossible that he’d gotten a chance to begin with.

“Why were you scared?”

Draco had to use his occlumency to get through the truth. He wouldn’t have the bravery to say it otherwise. “Because I don’t want to lose you.” He let his occlumency drop as soon as he got the sentence out.

Hermione’s expression softened and Draco felt the breath he was holding let out.

“I guess I hadn’t realized how much you cared.”

“I guess I didn’t realize how much until that moment either.”

“You have to talk it through with me next time. Maybe you’d be less unhinged if you let someone else help you.”

Next time. Those words were a relief.

“And if we disagree on something? If I can’t help but be an ass about it?”

“I’ve never backed down from a fight, and I like that you don’t either. But I need to know you won’t shut me down in the name of security. That even if there’s a fight you’ll have it with me.”

Draco felt his mouth quirk up in a smile. “Then I promise there can be as many future fights are you’re willing to put up with.” Then Draco asked the question he was terrified to. “You still want to tell the Ministry. Don’t you?”

“The secret will inevitably get out, someone out there knows what happened, and I want the world to find out on my terms. We have leverage now that we might not have in the future.”

Draco calmed himself, as calm as he could be, while his mind was still screaming to take Granger and hide her away to keep her safe.

“The Ministry doesn’t handle gray areas well, and you are a gray area. The person who did this has just as much incentive to keep you a secret. I don’t think that events are inevitable.”

“Maybe inevitable is too harsh a word for it. Maybe a better word is probable.”

“I would feel more comfortable waiting until you’ve found a cure.”  

“The longer it takes the less hope I have that a cure exists. Maybe you can’t go back on some things.”

“What kind of Gryffindor mindset is that? You’ve performed a miracle; I don’t see why you can’t do another one.”

“I don’t think they work like that.”

“If anyone you.”

“Obviously it would be less risky to come back with a cure but that might not be a luxury we have. I can’t put off a choice on a hope that things will be different.”

“Give it some time. I do think you’re making progress if it doesn’t feel like it. And you are too precious to risk.”

Hermione scoffed, never a good reaction when you just complimented someone you care about deeply. “What does that make me? A kept girlfriend?”

“Do you want to be?” Hermione looked at him in surprise. “I’m tired of pretending that I feel less because I’m worried those feelings might scare you away.”  

“The thing is that it doesn’t make sense. You shouldn’t want this.”

Draco allowed himself to laugh at the absurdity of that. “Tell me that you don’t feel it too.”

“I’m stuck with this confined life, at least for now, but you don’t have to be.” Hermione was fighting him for some godforsaken reason, but she wasn’t denying her feelings. Draco chose to take that as a good sign.

“Maybe that would be nice if I’d ever had feelings like this for anyone else. But you’re it. I don’t feel stuck. You make me feel free.”

Hermione’s face scrunched up and for a moment he thought he did something wrong, but her voice was soft. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Go from being a complete ass to this person.”

“I haven’t quite figured out how to care about something without being an ass yet. Hopefully it’s a skill you can learn. Like cooking.”

Hermione resettled herself and put her feet in his lap, and all Draco could think about was how good it felt to be claimed by her.

Hermione

They walked back to their rooms holding hands, and Hermione didn’t particularly want to leave him. Draco didn’t give her much chance to fuss about it, simply pulling her into his room after him.

Draco gestured for her to sit on the bed, and she did, nothing to do but watch him get ready for bed. He wasn’t shy around around her and traded his pants for a set of pajama bottoms, and no shirt. He threw her one of his pajama shirts, that he apparently owned but did not want to put on himself which was fine with her.

Hermione rolled over like a content cat in Draco’s shirt, surrounded by the scent of him. He laid down next to her, face to face, looking at her like he was relieved she was there. Like if he didn’t pay her his undivided attention she’d cease to be.

Hermione wanted to kiss him so badly, but she felt she couldn’t risk it.

Draco noticed the conflict in her head. “Are you alright?”

Hermione put a steadying hand over his chest, nearly over his heart.

“I’m scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of being overwhelmed again.”  

“I’ve been thinking of ways to help with that.”

Draco moved his cuff closer to his bedside table, and asked Hermione to press her body up against the barrier. He’d calculated it to be perfectly in the middle of the bed. Draco aligned his body with hers, every bit of herself pressed to him.

Nothing holding her back, Hermione let Draco kiss her and allowed herself to free explore in return. Her fingers moved over the scars on the chest. His old sectumsempra scars and newer bites that hadn’t healed completely. She loved that he shivered under her touch. He looked just as giddy that this could work.    

Hands caressed her sides, slipping between fabric and skin. He paused with his hand on her hip, allowing his thumb to caress her bare skin in small circles, asking for permission. Hermione shifted and moved his hand closer to where she wanted it.   

“Greedy,” Draco murmured between kisses.

Molten gray eyes watched her every movement, as a hand slipped between her legs. 

Fingers stroked the outside of her cunt. Teasing. Every thought centered on that touch of his fingers over fabric, and with it Hermione started to slip into that frenzy.

“You’re safe. It’s alright.”

But nothing about this felt alright. Hermione felt like her skin would burst apart from wanting him. Luckily, Draco had no intention of stopping this time. He slipped the lace underwear she was wearing down around her ankles, kissing her hip and thigh as he did so.  

“Let go. I’ve got you.”

Draco moved slowly, so as not to spook her. He was very careful to keep himself just far enough away, leaving nothing to pull him over with. She focused only on pressing herself against the edge of the barrier. It felt like the only thing tethering her mind to reality. Just the feel of his bare skin against hers made her ache.  

Draco never took his eyes off her as his fingers slipped between her legs and teased just there. Whatever he saw in Hermione’s gaze urged him on as he slipped a finger into her. He managed to find the spot inside her that made her toes curl. She couldn’t help but roll her hips against his hand, wanting him deeper. Needing it.  

“Gods Hermione.” Draco said, urging her on with soft murmurs.

Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head when Draco’s thumb began circling her clit. Too good. Too much.

Hermione bit down on the flesh at the base of her thumb, as she let herself feel. Her new body made everything feel more intense, and Draco was unrelenting, watching every minute reaction she had.

It didn’t take long for her cunt to tighten around Draco’s fingers. She cried out as Draco wrung every last bit of pleasure from her.

Hermione would have been content to lay there forever, letting the aftershocks roll over her. She felt like she was floating.  

Draco’s voice pulled her back. “Still with me.”

Hermione put her hand on his chest, allowing their breathing to sync. The cut there was already healing, and Draco cast a cleaning charm.  

“You didn’t slip much, did you?”

“No.” She wished he wouldn’t ask so many questions just this second.

“Maybe it was the denial of what you wanted that was the problem.”  

Draco’s eyes sparked with mischief, far too smug for her liking.

Hermione eyes drifted down.

“Now you?”

Draco kissed her on the forehead. “As heavenly as that would be, even I have my limits.” 

“I’d only have to watch.” 

Draco’s eyes flared at the suggestion. “Yeah?”

Hermione nodded.  

It didn’t take much to convince him. Draco put his thumbs in his waistband and lowered his pajama bottoms. Hermione wondered if she should attempt to be demure and look anywhere except at what was happening. But he seemed to like her attention.

He loosely fisted his cock and ran his hand up and down, running his thumb over the head. Rhythmically up and down.

Draco pushed his bare thigh to the edge, only just over the barrier. And Hermione caressed the skin there. He shuddered at her touch.

His rhythm became hurried and sloppy. Nearly frantic as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He was glorious like that. There was no other word for it.

Draco turned his head to her, and she felt like an anchor, bringing him down to the Earth. He gave a half smile that ruined her for there was no other word for it. He cleaned himself quickly.

“You in control?” Draco asked. Hermione nodded. He scooped her to his chest, holding her close. “Stay with me?” Draco asked though he didn’t clarify what he meant. Stay with me until I fall asleep. Be with me. Stay with me forever.

Hermione nodded, knowing she’d gladly take all he’d offer.

She waited until she heard his breath slow, and long after that. Taking an extra moment to lay down next to him and stroke his hair. Wishing that she could have the pleasure of falling asleep beside him. The joy of waking up together.

Then Hermione gently pushed Draco over the barrier and went back to her room, looking for something to do to pass the time until he woke.