Chapter Text
Guilt ate at Hermione’s heart as she watched Harry fling himself over the two small caskets his children had been placed in. She didn’t doubt Draco for one second that he would take someone each night, but she didn’t think he would take the children. A footman that worked for Harry had banged on their door, a quarter after twelve when the moon was high in the sky and the stars twinkled down upon the earth. Ronald’s face had been like stone as he stood in the doorway of their room in nothing but his pants as he told her the news.
She didn’t want to believe it. She had told Harry to escape with the kids, take them back to England where they would be safe with their grandparents. She would see to Ginevra’s funeral arrangements, see that she be buried properly. He didn’t even have the chance to start packing. Harry had been so busy making the travel arrangements during the night that he hadn't even heard the children crying for him.
It should’ve been her, she had told herself as she dressed in black that morning.
It should’ve been her, she told herself when she saw the small bodies.
It should’ve been her, she told herself as she watched her brother’s life be torn apart.
Harry sobbed against the caskets of his two babies as they sat next to the large one of his wife in the mausoleum. According to graveyard policy, they were not to be put into their respective slots till the third sunrise after their death. It was a silly rule, Hermione had thought, were they expecting the dead to rise?
“Yes.” Severus had confirmed for her. “Some illnesses can mimic death.” His voice was low as he stood on her left and watched the sad scene of a husband and father mourn the loss of everything he loved. “It is a precaution to not bury the living.”
Ronald nudged his elbow into her side from her right. “We should remove him,” he whispered. “I fear what might happen if we don’t.”
Hermione glanced at his face. His skin had taken on an ill, sort of green hue, and he kept looking away and back at Harry. She took a breath, looking down the line of gravestones to the one where Elizabeth Cunning was resting peacefully. She sent a silent prayer to the woman she had used as a surrogate for her mother, asking for the strength she would need to go to Harry.
After a few silent moments, and after the pain she felt inside her chest subsided, she moved down the small pathway to the family mausoleum. The day was cool, with spring bringing warmer weather everyday, but the inside of the mausoleum felt frigid against her cheeks. The heels of her shoes clicked against the marble and the sound caused shivers to run down her back.
She placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder when she stopped beside him. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t even acknowledge her. He just continued to sob over Ginevra’s white casket that he was now pressed over. “Harry,” Hermione’s voice was quiet so as not to disturb the dead. “We need to return home for lunch.”
His shoulders shook as a loud sob echoed in the all marble mausoleum. “Lunch?” He turned to look at her. “You think I care about lunch?”
She knelt beside him and brushed a few strands of his more than usual messy hair out of his eyes. “My darling brother, you must take care of yourself.”
“She’s gone, Hermione, as well as our children. I do not care about taking care of myself.” Tears ran down his face, spit bubbled as he spoke, and the glasses he always wore were nowhere to be seen.
“Harry,” she said his name a little firmer. “She would not want you to act this way.”
“She is not here, Hermione, because of a monster that you brought into our lives,” he bit out.
She knew he was hurting, knew he needed someone to blame, but it didn’t hurt any less. She looked over at Ronald and the Severus. “There are still people who care about you and who you care about as well.” She ran her hand down his back, in a soothing manner. “We will get through this pain, Harry, you will get through it.”
“How?” His voice bubbled with a sob that was lurking in his throat.
“By having lunch.” She tried to smile at him. “Come, I’m sure Sybill has prepared a wonderful spread for us this afternoon.” She pulled on his arm and dragged him to stand. She wrapped an arm around his waist, forcing him to wrap his arm around her shoulders.
They walked like that out of the mausoleum, down the pathway past Ronald and Severus, and to the waiting carriage that had brought them to the graveyard. She helped him inside and climbed in after, with the help of Ronald, and sat down next to Harry. She pulled his head to rest on her shoulder, and ran her hand through his hair. “Take us home.” She knocked on the window behind her when her husband and Severus sat across from them.
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The afternoon was quiet, Harry had retired to his bedroom after lunch and Hermione decided to walk the grounds for fresh air. At some point Severus had joined her and though she couldn’t see him, she knew Ronald was watching them. “Your husband seems…” Severus began but trailed off before finishing his thought.
“He’s been through a lot these past few weeks.” She looked at him.
“He reminds me a lot of you,” he returned her gaze. “A darkness hangs over him, but not in the same way it does you.”
“Harry has said something similar.” She smiled and looked down at her hands where she spun the ring only she could see. She tried to remove it again, but it didn’t budge.
“And now he has the same darkness as your husband,” he mused.
“And me?” Her brows knitted with the concern that drowned her mind.
He didn’t respond immediately and somehow they had ended up at the edge of the pond that never dried up. He stared down at it. “Hermione, I think you and I are at a point in our doctor and patient relationship that I can speak freely with you about more than just your diagnosis and over protective brother.”
Hermione chuckled softly and nodded, “Go ahead Severus.”
“There is a darkness that hangs over this property.” He turned to face the manor that had seen so much bloodshed in the past two days. “I won't pretend to know the hardships you have lived through to have come to inherit such darkness. I was young when I lost my parents to an illness that plagued the small town I was born in. I grew up as an orphan, never knowing the love of a parent. Losing someone so close to you must have been hard, and you endured through it the best you could.”
“Draco was there to help.” She bent at her knees, tucking her skirts under her as she squatted down to run the two fingers of her right hand through the mud.
“You know there is no stopping this…being.” He looked down at her.
Hermione sighed and dipped her hand under the mud. She slid her eyes closed and smiled when she thought she felt fingers wrap around hers. “I will stop him,” she whispered as a strong breeze roared past them. Lips pressed against the palm of her hand and goosebumps grew over her skin. “I need to ask you a favor, Severus.”
He turned to face her and held a handkerchief out for her to wipe her muddy hand on. “Anything child.”
“Tonight, I will submit to him, to Draco.” She stood and ran the white cotton fabric over her hand. “To save those that are important to me.”
“Your brother and husband will not agree to this.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “And I can't say that I agree with it either.”
“We have no other option. Draco will continue to kill, he won't stop after three days. I know he won't. It was foolish of me to think he wouldn’t take the children.” She paused as her voice broke with the reminder of their deaths. “I need you to distract them, Harry and Ronald, and I will stay home under the pretense of remaining safe.”
“You will be the one in the most danger though.” He sighed and took the dirty handkerchief from her. He crumpled it up in his hand, holding it away from his body, and turned back to the manor. “What shall I tell them to distract them?”
“That you found where Draco is hiding.” Hermione gave one last glance to the pond and turned to begin walking back to the manor. Severus followed behind her, taking a couple large steps to move beside her. “If my speculations are correct, you should start at Borgin and Burkes.”
“The realtor office your husband works for?” Severus looked at her, knitting his brows together as he observed her.
Hermione nodded and glanced up at him. The sun beat down on them, and she brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the bright light. “I find it suspicious how adamant Ronald’s master was that he left immediately for Rumania and the few times I was by the office to deliver my letters with Harry, the building smelled.”
He nodded along and held his hand up to stop her before they entered the manor. They turned to face each other and Hermione could see the regret in his eyes. “What will you do?”
“I will do as he wishes. Prepare myself for him and give myself willingly before he can kill anyone else,” she said with a firm voice.
“And if he intends to kill you?” The question weighed heavily between them.
Hermione smiled, a sad sorrowful sort of smile, and looked out at the gardens of the Potter Manor. The scent of the blooming flowers wafted around her and a lighter breeze blew across her face as she came to terms with her plan. “I always knew I was going to die young, Severus. If he intends to kill me, then it will be and I will take him with me.” She looked back at him, “For darkness cannot exist in the light of the sun.”
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Ronald ran his thumbs over the backs of Hermione’s hands as they stood in the doorway of their home. It was smaller than the Potter’s Manor, much smaller, but he had bought this home with his own money for his wife and the family they would raise there. Or at least that is what he hoped they would do. There was this bad feeling, swirling in the pit of his stomach as they stood in the comfort of silence that he couldn't quite ignore.
He brought her hands to his lips, kissing each finger softly before looking at her sad eyes. The sun was already below the horizon and the flame of a lantern burned brightly next to them, casting them in its warm glow. “I fear for you Hermione.”
She smiled at him and brought her hand up to cup his cheek. “I will be safe here in our home.”
He took a deep breath and looked up at the front of the house. It was sturdy, newly built, but the monster had gotten to Harry’s children who lived on the second floor. “That does not ease my mind, love.” He looked back at her. “I have this feeling that if I leave you here, it will be the last time I see you.”
She took a step forward, wrapping her arms around his back and pressed her cheek to his heart. “It will not be the last time you see me, I promise.”
He ran his hands up her back and cradled the back of her head. He pulled her back slightly, to see her face. “I love you Hermione Weasley, please, I am begging you, don’t leave me.”
She pressed to her toes and carded her hand in the hair that ran down the back of his neck. She kissed him, gently at first, then as she moulded her body to his, the kiss turned desperate. Ronald turned them, pinning her against the door jam, and she groaned when her head hit the wood frame. His hand traveled the length of her body and gripped her thigh over her skirts, pulling it up to rest against his hip.
Someone cleared their throat and the kiss ended with Hermione pulling away to look down at Snape who stood next to their waiting carriage. She looked back at Ronald and her cheeks turned a sinful shade of pink. “When you are done, and night is turning to day, come back to me,” she whispered when he dropped her leg. “I’ll be waiting.”
He took her face in his hands and kissed her one final time. He tried to express everything he was feeling into that one singular kiss. The fear he felt leaving her there unprotected. He worried that she would not be there in the morning. Anxiety flowed through his veins, causing his palms to sweat as he held her, that they were walking into a trap. But also, he tried to convey how much he loved her. “I will return to you my love and after we are done slaying the monster, I will whisk you away from this horrid place.”
Hermione tried to school her features, but he noticed the pain that flashed across her face when he said ‘monster’. She didn’t respond, only nodded and if he didn’t leave then, he would never leave. He pushed from his spot, walking down the few steps that lead to their house and boarded the carriage. Snape tipped his head at Hermione before climbing in behind him.
Harry groaned when Ronald hit his leg for him to sit up. “Leave me be.”
“I will not.” Ronald adjusted on the seat when Snape climbed in. Something inside of him changed the moment he left Hermione and climbed into the carriage. He needed to be Harry’s strength, to motivate him and pull him from the darkness that he was spiraling in. “I know you are hurting, Harry, but we need you to be present for this hunt.”
“I don’t wish to hunt,” he mumbled and turned towards the other side of the carriage to stare out the window.
“You don’t seek revenge on the monster that took your family?” Ronald began to remove his overcoat.
Harry looked over his shoulder at him, his eyes watery and red. “Monster?”
“The one that has been haunting Hermione all these years.” He flicked his eyes from the task of rolling his sleeves to Harry. “We are going to kill him tonight.”
Harry perked up, sitting straighter and looked around the carriage at Ronald and Snape, who had an unreadable expression on his face. “You have a plan, I’d hope.”
“We will start at Borgin and Burkes,” Snape said. “Look for clues and hopefully he will be there waiting for us.”
“Unlikely though.” Ronald shrugged. “The sun is down, he will be on the hunt for his next victim.” He picked up some wooden stakes he had prepared for tonight when the idea to hunt The Count down first was mentioned. “In order to kill him, we have to stab these stakes through his heart.”
Harry wrapped his fingers around the stake he was given and stared down at it. “And this will work?”
“I’ve seen it work.” Ronald reassured him.
When they arrived at Borgin and Burkes, the building was dark with no signs of life around it. Ronald expected the front door to be locked but when he twisted the knob, it opened with ease. A putrid, almost rotten, smell hit him like a wall as he stepped into the building he worked at. He brought his arm up to cover his nose and mouth and his eyes began to water from the scent that hung heavy in the air.
“What is that smell?” Harry groaned as he and Snape stepped inside.
“Its decomposition,” the doctor informed them with a bored tone to his voice. “Lead the way, Mr. Weasley.”
Ronald grimaced as he turned away from his companions and looked down the long corridor. “We should start with Goyle’s office. If there are any clues, they would be in there.”
He led them down the corridor, noting how the cubicles where he and his coworkers worked at looked abandoned, to the only enclosed office in the building. The door had a fogged window on it with the name, Gregory Goyle, Head Manager in pretty gold script painted onto it. Ronald opened it and swung the door open wide, bringing his wooden stake up ready to stab any lurking vampire.
Silence greeted him though, and a poof of dust flew into the air from the disturbance of the breeze he caused from swinging the door. Harry pushed past him, shoving him with his shoulder, and looked around. “No one is here.”
“Look for clues,” Ronald grunted and jutted his chin towards one side of the office as he went to the other side.
“Like what?” he mumbled as he moved to the desk that was piled high with books and papers.
“Like this.” Snape held up a piece of paper. He glanced over it, sighing heavily, and handed it to Ronald. “She had told me she had written you letters.”
Ronald took the letter and scanned the words that had been written. Her words were desperate pleas for help, begging him to return to her. He looked down at the desk where a stack of them sat and picked up the next one. This one was marked as March 17th, and as he read it, fear wrapped around his mind. The killings, the deaths, started long before with the loss of the babe inside Ginevra’s womb.
He lifted the pile of letters and stuffed them into his pocket as delicately as he could, not wanting to crush or crumble any of them. He would read them later, when he wasn’t knee deep in monster hunting for the darkness that desired his wife.
Snape moved through the room looking at all the odd things there. “This man seemed to collect some peculiar things.” He picked up the skull of a small rodent that had a candle glued to it with wax.
“He wasn’t always like this.” Ronald said as he picked up a book. “He was a very smart man with years of experience in more than just reality. It was one of the reasons I came to work for him.” He put the book back and wiped the dust from his hand onto his trousers. “He only started to act weird a few months ago.”
“He shut down the business about a week ago,” Harry mumbled as he leaned against a wall and watched them.
“What do you mean?” Ronald turned to look at him.
He shrugged. “I came around, to inquire about Hermione’s letters, but the building was all locked up and the bakery next door said that they had closed down. He hadn't seen anyone in or out in a few days.”
Ronald was about to respond when they heard a loud crashing sound from below them. “He’s here,” he gasped out and ran from the room. He turned to his left, heading straight for the basement door. He had never been down in the basement, thought there were just old files down there, but as he bounded down the stairs, and the smell of mold grew stronger, he understood how foolish it was to think a business would ever keep files in a damp basement.
Rats scurried around his feet, squeaking at his intrusion. A brass coffin sat against the wall in front of him. The lid on the ground and the belly of it empty. He rushed over, not caring about the pained screams of the rats he stepped on. His heart hammered in his chest as he pressed his hands to the velvet lining of the coffin. “He’s gone.”
Harry squealed when he entered the room, “Why are there so many rats?”
“I would surmise to say that this is where the rats that killed your wife came from,” Snape said in a monotone voice as he knelt down to examine something on the ground.
Ronald couldn’t hear what they were saying over the rush of blood in his ears. The Count, Draco, had just been here. They heard the crashing of the coffin lid. He spun on his heel to look around the room. There was only one exit, how did he leave without running into them?
As if reading the thoughts in his mind, Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “We really should listen to that sister of mine more.” He pointed to a pile of mud in the corner of the room. “He travels through the mud.”
“How?” Ronald asked, pinching his brows together.
“How does he command rats? How does he do anything he does?” he bit out. “He’s a monster.”
“No.” Snape stood and pushed the hair that had fallen into his face back. “He is a vampire.”
Ronald froze at the word, remembering how Mother Superior McGonagall had corrected him as well.
“Is there any difference?” Harry scoffed indignantly.
“Monsters are made up, to scare children into staying in bed. Vampires are very much real beings.” Snape waved his hand towards a lump on the ground and looked at Ronald. “I would say that we have found your master.”
Ronald’s eyes darted to it and he gasped when he saw the distinct ribs of a human being. “He fed on him?”
“I would say so, then the rats did.” He moved to stand on the step Harry was still on, above all the squealing vermin. “He is no longer here. We shouldn’t dawdle. These rodents carry diseases.”
“Where would he go though?” Harry asked as he turned to leave the basement.
“Herm-” Ronald began but was cut off by Snape. “The graveyard.” His footsteps were heavy and his cloak billowed around his feet as he walked up the stairwell. “Your wife was killed by the rats, but your children were not. He may have made them into vampire spawn.”
Harry stopped and turned to look at him with narrowed eyes, “You seem to know a lot about this.”
“It is my job to know about things.”
“Medical things, not vampire things.” Harry didn’t move.
“Harry, we don’t have time to question the Doctor.” Ronald reminded him from the bottom of the stairs.
“No, I want to know.” Harry folded his arms over his chest. “You became really close with Hermione over the past few weeks. Did she tell you about this vampire? Did you two know that he was going to attack my family?”
Snape rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. “I helped your sister. She was a lonely, depressed girl, and missing her husband. And you tied her to a bed.”
“You did what?” Ronald nearly shouted from his spot behind Snape.
“Per her doctor’s recommendation,” Harry said, looking over Snape’s head at Ronald.
“You tied my wife to a bed?” Ronald pushed around Snape and stepped closer to Harry.
“She was sleepwalking and ending up by the pond every night.” His voice lowered and Ronald could hear the pain in it. “I didn’t want a repeat of that one night when we were younger. She nearly died, Ronald, and I would rather tie her to a damn bed than lose her.”
“What else did you let this doctor do?” Ronald narrowed his eyes at him. “I swear to God, Harry Potter-”
“Gentlemen.” Snape sighed. “We do not have the time for you two to argue. Did the last doctor do questionable things to Hermione? Yes. Did I know that what was plaguing her was a vampire and not just depression? No. Is arguing about it going to change anything? Also no. So, please, for the love of Hermione, silence your squabbling.”
Ronald and Harry looked down at him, both their faces tight with embarrassment. Harry nodded first, “Of course, she is depending on us tonight.”
Ronald looked back at his brother-in-law. “I know you did your best, Harry, thank you.”
He nodded, not looking at Ronald. “It wasn’t enough though.”
The graveyard was eerily quiet. Ronald had never been to one this late at night and he wasn’t sure he wanted to make a habit out of it. They stood outside the carriage, staring down the pathway that led to the Potter mausoleum. There were candles burning inside of it, making it look like a portal to hell.
“We are just checking on the bodies, yes?” Ronald looked to his left at Snape.
Snape removed the lantern that hung on the side of the carriage and nodded. “If any of them were to be turned, it would have happened by now.”
“How do you know so much about vampires?” Ronald asked as the doctor led the way down the path.
“I worked, for a small amount of time, at a monastery in Rumania. There were stories that were passed around, and one such story was told to me as I worked on a sick patient.”
Harry stumbled and caught himself by grabbing Ronald’s shoulder which made him yell. “Bloody hell, Harry!” He swung around to look at him.
“Sorry,” Harry murmured as he corrected himself. “Not used to the pebbled pathway.”
“Anyways,” Snape turned back to the path and continued. “The old man I was examining told me about a vampire that lived in a castle atop the Carpathian Mountains.”
Ronald’s blood ran cold. “The Count?”
“Possibly.” He looked over his shoulder at Ronald. “He wasn’t the original Count of the castle, though he had been there for many generations. He fed on those that lived in the village that sat at the bottom of the mountains and that is why most times it was empty.”
“It wasn’t when I went there.” Ronald’s shoulder shook with a chill. “It was full of people.”
“People move away and warn others about the dangers of living in that village, but when time goes by and new people are born, the stories are forgotten,” Snape said as they came to the end of the pathway.
The three stopped in front of the mausoleum. “Will this town forget the dangers that have fallen on it as well?” Ronald asked and looked at the Doctor.
He nodded, “They always do.”
Harry clambered forward, pushing the gated door open and a loud, echoing sob fell from his lips. “Ginevra!” he shouted and rushed into the mausoleum.
“Harry!” Ronald shouted and ran in after him but what he saw stopped him in his tracks.
Harry was bent over Ginevra’s open coffin, holding her limp body to his chest. Her eyes were dull, open, and staring at him. The dress she had been dressed in was ripped open and the jewels that she was undoubtedly adorned with were all gone.
“Grave robbers,” Snape’s voice said from behind him.
“Gin…Ginevra,” Harry sobbed.
Ronald looked to the two closed smaller coffins. “Should we check the babes?” He looked at Snape.
“I will do it. Families shouldn’t see their dead loved ones like this.” He moved past Ronald then looked back at him. “Get him off of her.”
Ronald moved quickly, not wanting to look at the dead body of his cousin, and took Harry by the shoulders. “Come on Harry, let the Doctor tend to them.”
“No!” Harry held her tighter. “She’s so cold.”
“Yes, she is dead.”
Harry jerked his head back to look at him, glaring hatefully at him. “She is asleep, is all, and sick. The doctor! He will heal her.”
“Oh, Harry,” Ronald sighed and knelt down next to him. “You’re right, the doctor will help her. But he can't do that with you in his way.”
Harry’s tear stained face looked down at Ginevra’s before slowly placing her back into the coffin. “Of course.” He wiped his tears from his face and stood after making sure she was in the coffin comfortably. He and Ronald stood and stepped back, allowing Snape the appropriate amount of space to conduct his examination of the body.
He smoothed Ginevra’s white dress and buttoned it back up. He pulled the coffin lid shut and patted the top of it. Saying a few whispered words before standing. “They have not been turned,” he confirmed.
Ronald sighed, “That’s a relief.”
“So, now what?” Harry sniffled. “Do we go to the police?”
“Why would we do that?” Ronald looked at him, his brows knitting together in confusion.
“My wife’s body was pillaged and her family jewels were stolen,” he bit out, clenching his jaw shut.
“We will have to report it in the morning. There will be no police awake at this hour,” Snape responded holding his watch out to them.
Ronald whistled low. “Already morning.” He stretched his arms above his head. “If he wasn’t at the office, and he wasn’t here, where else would he be?”
“On the hunt for someone else to feed on?” Harry suggested.
Snape licked his lips, taking a deep breath, “What was it that he told Hermione?”
Ronald looked at Harry then back at the Snape. “That he would kill someone important to her unless she submitted to him.”
“But the only people she cared about are in this room,” Harry countered. “There is no one left.”
“Do you really think she does not consider herself important?” Snape asked them.
“But, he would not kill her.” Harry looked at Ronald. “Right?”
The longer he looked into the eyes of the doctor, the more he began to feel those emotions from earlier. “This was a distraction,” he whispered. “He went to her, not here, and you knew that!” He shoved against Snape’s chest.
“She plans to sacrifice herself, to protect you two fools.” Snape caught himself on the wall of the mausoleum. “You will live on because of her love.”
“I would rather jump into the ocean than live without her!” Ronald yelled at him and pushed a hand through his hair. “Fuck!” He spun around and started to run back towards the carriage. He skidded to a stop next to it, ripping the door open, and Harry pushed to get in first. “We kill him,” Ronald said, looking at him as the carriage whisked them off to the home he left Hermione at.
“For Ginevra and the babes.” Harry handed him one of the wooden stakes.
“For my bloody wife.”
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The heat from the melted wax burned Hermione’s finger as she pressed the seal into it, sealing the letter she had just finished writing. She stared down at the curves and lines of Ronald’s name in her handwriting, as the weight of the world seemed to rest on her shoulders as she sat at her desk. She brought the envelope to her lips, kissing it before setting it down on the desk for him to find later.
The stars twinkled happily in the night sky and she smiled serenely as she looked through her window at them. It reminded her of the many nights she spent outside with Draco, or the more recent walks she took with Severus when she woke from her sleepwalking. She would always wake with her face pointed to the sky and she felt safe under its blanket of darkness.
She began to prepare herself, pulling her eyes away from the night sky to the small mirror she had sitting on her desk. She began by removing the hairpins that held the braids she had meticulously worked on that morning and dropped them into a tiny dish in front of her. Each clink and clank of them grew louder than the last, making her flinch each time. Once the braids were all undone, she picked her brush up and ran it through her long strands of hair, brushing the soft curls out and creating frizzy flyaways.
When she was done with that, she stood and moved to her armoire. Her heart hammered in her chest as she removed the dress she had worn on her wedding day. It was made with a simple cotton material, with poofy sleeves and a billowing skirt. She stepped into the dress, pulling it up her body and stared at herself in the mirror that sat on her desk.
She wanted to cry. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes as she moved from the armoire to the window where she looked out of it, hoping Ronald would come rushing home to save her. She knew he wouldn’t though. Severus had promised to keep him and Harry distracted long enough for her to fulfill the duty that she always knew would fall upon her.
The moment she had accepted Draco’s offer all those years ago, much like the letter she had written for Ronald, she knew her fate had been sealed. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it or deny it, she would always return to him, to her dark angel, with eyes as red as blood and skin as cold as ice.
And she wouldn’t deny it any longer; her love for Draco never waned, it only grew stronger as the days they were separated trudged along. She wouldn’t lie to herself, though; she loved Ronald, she really did and she was so thankful to have been able to live and walk in the light that he casted upon her tiny world.
But she belonged to Draco, like he had said, like he had warned her.
It wasn’t the darkness that had hurt her, or grown unbearable, it was being apart from him. And what hurt worse is the realization that she didn’t miss Ronald nearly as much as she had missed Draco. That was how she was able to make this decision, leave her life behind with Ronald and Harry, to be with Draco.
A whoosh of cool night air blew across her exposed back and she turned, slowly, to look at her angel of darkness. He stood, towering, in the frame of the window of the room she had shared with her husband. His eyes were piercing as he stared at her, with an unreadable expression on his rotted face.
“You came,” she whispered.
“You hid the only two people you cared about.” He gripped the edge of his coat and swung it out, revealing his long legs that were covered in moth eaten trousers. “And I do not hunt for men.”
“Draco.” She moved to her desk where she had a bouquet of white flowers sitting, her chest squeezed at the sight of them already wilting.
“Unless you intend to submit to me, I do not wish to hear what you have to say.” He watched her, not moving from his spot.
“Do you think I dress in a wedding dress every night for fun?” She held the bouquet in front of her and moved closer to him.
“Then say the words, little lamb.” His body was stiff, his shoulders rigid, the closer she drew to him.
Hermione stopped in front of him, inhaling his scent and letting the memories of their time together flood her mind. “Do you love me, Draco?”
“You are my affliction,” he rasped, turning to face her.
“Affliction?” She chuckled softly. “I don’t believe that for one moment.”
“Have I ever lied to you?” He brought his hand up and twirled a curl that rested against her temple around his finger that was more bone than flesh.
“You have.” She sighed and stepped closer to him. Her chest bumped into his and she felt the ice cold temperature of his body seep through her dress and stiffen her nipples. “You told me the darkness would worsen without you.”
“Did it not worsen for you, my little lamb?” He pulled on the curl and watched as it bounced back into place.
“No.” She dropped her eyes from his face to look at the very old, very intricate gold button on his coat. “What worsened was my love for you. My desire to be near you, breathing the same air that you occupied, feeling your cold arms wrapping around me.”
“Is that what you wish for?” He pressed his finger under her chin and directed her gaze back to his face.
“It is,” she confirmed with a nod.
“Then say the words,” he whispered.
“I submit to you, Draco.”
Draco dipped his head, sliding his hand to the back of her head and twisting his fingers in her hair, and kissed her. His lips were soft, yet cold, and Hermione could feel the shiver that was starting to form at the base of her neck, ready for it to travel down her spine. But the more they kissed, the more he wrapped his body around hers, the more her body’s temperature lowered and the shiver never came.
“You know what this means, yes?” he asked, pulling away from her lips for only a moment.
“I do.” She breathed and he returned to kissing her.
“I’ve missed you, Hermione.” Draco sighed and pressed his forehead to hers. “All these years have been torture. Watching you be with him, it was torture.”
“You killing my best friend and my nephews was torture,” she responded. “I guess we are even now.” She stepped back, dropping the bouquet to the floor, and began to slide the dress down her shoulders. “I want to be yours again Draco.”
His eyes fell with the neckline of the dress. “You were never not mine, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you.” He surged forward and pulled her to his chest. “And now we will be together for evermore.”
“Yes,” She ran her hands up his arms, “We will.”
He lifted her, her arms wrapping around his neck and her legs around his waist. He was still clothed and the rough material of his old clothes rubbed against her skin, leaving behind little rashes. He moved to the bed, laying her down gently in the center. He knelt between her legs, observing her as she was washed in the precious moonlight he loved so much.
Hermione felt her heart begin to race as she watched him pull each piece of his clothing off. She had seen him naked before, but that had been years ago. He was further rotten, with gashes that looked like open wounds. Maggots fell from him as he leaned over her, and she could feel them as they squirmed on her stomach. But she didn’t care, how could she when he touched her so gently, kissed her so tenderly?
Draco traced a line down her chest with the tips of his fingers, between the mounds of her breasts and he didn’t stop till he was at the top of her navel. “I’ve waited for you,” he whispered against her neck. “All these years, I waited.”
“I called for you, more than once.” She tilted her head to the side to allow him more space.
“Your husband,” he gritted out, the sound harsh so close to her ear. “He acted as a shield and I was unable to reach you.” He nipped at the spot where her jaw met her neck.
“Well, he’s gone now.” She felt guilt bloom in her chest at the reminder of the lie she had told Ronald. “It's just you and me.”
“As it should have been from the very beginning.” He brought his right hand down to grasp her left hand and brought it up between them. The ring he had placed on her hand when she was younger glimmered in the moonlight. “We don’t have much time, my love.” He turned his head to look out the window. “The sun will be coming up soon.”
“Then we better get started.” She smiled and pulled her hand out of his to cup his cheek. She guided him up to her lips and as she kissed him, her thumb slid into the hole of his cheek. It glided across the gums that used to hold his teeth and pressed into the side of his tongue.
His cock was cold, as to be expected, and she wasn’t sure how he managed to get it hard, but she didn’t think too long about it either. He pushed it inside of her and she gasped, arching her back as she felt it reach to the very back of her cunt and hit her cervix. She groaned and relaxed back into the bed. This is what she had missed all along, his love, his cock, his body pressed against hers. He rolled his hips, thrusting inside of her, and she turned her head to the side as the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon.
“Bite me, Draco,” she whispered to him.
He stopped moving and looked at her. “I would kill you.”
“It's okay, my love.” She ran her hands over his scalp and down his neck. “We are going to be together, forever.” She brought his face down to the spot above her heart. “Feed, I know it's what you have always wanted to do.”
Draco’s eyes bore into her as he sunk his fangs into her left breast and continued to thrust inside of her. She groaned and whimpered at the pain, and arched into him again. His hand wrapped around the breast and squeezed it as he sucked, their eyes meeting in a mutual understanding of what was going to happen. He stopped and pulled off of her with a pop and captured her lips in a searing kiss. “I love you, Hermione.”
“I love you, Draco.” She spoke softly. The taste of her blood on his lips sat heavy in her mouth and she wanted to spit it out. “Continue.” She pushed him back to her chest.
Tears splashed onto her chest as Draco sank his teeth back into her flesh. He continued to feed on her, to taste her, to make love to her. His other hand gripped under her knee, pulling her leg up and he moved quickly, trying to finish before the sun spilled into the room. He looked back up at her and the look in his eyes seemed almost human. “I’m scared, my love.”
“It's okay.” It was becoming hard to keep her eyes open. “I’m here, we are together.” She ran her fingers through the little hair he had.
Draco grunted and pressed his forehead to her bloody chest. He released her leg, sitting up, he dragged her to him and sank his teeth into her neck. He sucked the blood from her body and slowly her hands began to slip from him, her heart beat erratically, and she felt more cold than she did warm. “Draco…” she sighed, “Lay me down.”
He pulled away from her neck and stared down at her. “You’re so pale,” he remarked and laid her back down.
“Come to me.” She spread her arms wide and he lowered himself to lay against her chest. “Feel the sun, my love.” Tears began to drip from the corner of her eyes as she looked towards the window as the sun rose high in the sky. “It's so warm.”
Hermione entwined their fingers together and brought his hand out to the few rays that shone into the room. He groaned in pain and the flesh that covered his arm began to burn. “Shh.” She ran her hand down his bumpy back. “It’ll be over soon.”
She heard a banging sound from downstairs and though her heart didn’t have enough blood pumping through it, it raced. She felt something bloom there. Maybe hope, maybe apprehension, maybe regret, she couldn’t tell now. She turned her head to look at the door, waiting for it to burst open and for Ronald to be there to save her. It would be too late, she knew, as she felt the world slipping from her as Draco yelled in agonizing pain on top of her as the sun washed over his body.
The acrid smell of death was replaced with the smell of burnt flesh and blood. It pooled in Draco’s stomach, boiling rapidly against hers as the sun burned him. It spilled from his lips, and cascaded over her bare chest, covering her in the crimson red liquid. If only she could absorb it back into her through her skin. “Ronald,” she breathed and as the door swung open, the last thing she saw was the sapphire blue eyes she had fallen in love with.
:•:•:•:•☾ᘛ⁐ᕐᐷ☽•:•:•:•:
Ronald,
Please, forgive me.
I know this is not what you would have wanted. You would have wanted me to talk to you about this and not just make these plans on my own, like a proper husband and wife. But you see, if I had done that, you would have stopped me.
I know we wished to have a family, to raise two happy children together in this home. Often, I would imagine them giggling, little Hugo and Rose, as they ran up and down the halls while I folded their laundry. You would be chasing them and pretending to be a bear or a great big lion. And they would come into the bedroom and hide underneath my skirts.
It pains me Ronald, to even write that. Because I know, I knew I would never live to see that day come true. I will never grow old with you, nor will we pick out a family mausoleum like Harry did. I’ll never know what it will feel like to send my child off to boarding school, or watch them grow into adults.
I will never get to see you walk our little Rose down the aisle or watch as you help our son dress for his first job.
But I can't let those little hopes and dreams stop me. I must do this, you see, it is the only way to kill him and if I don’t I fear what else he might do to make me his.
I wish I could tell you the pain gets easier. That losing someone you love doesn’t hurt as much as people say. But you know that is not true, and I cannot lie to you again. My death will be painful for you. There will be days where you wish to take the easy way out, and truly, there is no easy way. Because if you did that, you would be hurting your mother, your brothers, those who care about you.
I would be very unhappy if you did that as well, so please, on those days that just seem too hard, think about my smiling face, my warm embrace. Think of me there with you and think of me comforting you because I don’t wish for you to do something like that to yourself.
I must ask something of you, Ronald, and I know it is selfish of me to do so, but please look after Harry. You two are all you have left of the women you loved, and he is a stranger to our old friend Death. He won't know how to take care of himself, or how to move on after so much darkness has consumed him.
I can't begin to imagine the pain he will be going through in the coming days and years, but I know with you by his side, he will get through it.
Ronald, I have one more request to ask of you: Please be happy. I know that it will seem like I didn’t love you, how could I if I left you behind for this other man? But know that I did love you. I loved you more than life itself. That was how I was able to convince myself to do this, because I wanted you to be safe. I wanted you to live on and know a fulfilling life. You will be sad, I know, but that sadness will wane, you will find the light of the sun in someone else in the days to come.
Grow old with her, please. Have lots of babies, and name one of them Rose, or Hugo, for me. That was a third request, I know, I’m being greedy, and I will continue to be greedy because I have one last wish Ronald.
Please don’t forget me.
I love you,
Hermione