Happy Halloween, starduchess
Trick or Treat!
Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work of fiction is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.
Title: She’s My Ghoulfriend
LiveJournal username: strawberry_kait
Prompt: Cemetery
Rating: M
Word Count:1,799
Summary: When Draco agrees to give Hermione a ride to the cemetery, he gets more than he bargained for.
Warnings: Mild Cannibalism
Author's Note(s): This was so much fun to write! As always, I want to thank my betas, mccargi and phloxness, because I couldn’t get this far without them. And I’d like to especially thank the incomparable RZZMG for her graciousness and willingness to show me how to make it better. I take responsibility for any/all mistakes.
The chilling air of the cemetery smelled of decay and loam, and brought goose bumps to his forearms. Not one for loitering in such places, let alone in the middle of the night, Draco Malfoy was undoubtedly irritable and on edge. Every moving shadow in his peripheral vision, every noise - great and small - left him, at first cringing, and then defiantly huffing. It was absolutely ridiculous, being here, waiting for her!
She’d said she needed him. That was what had dragged him out of his warm bed in the wee hours. Thinking she was inviting him over for a little late night escapade had Draco over to Granger’s faster than a mad Thestral. Imagine his surprise and disappointment when all she’d wanted was a ride. He’d wanted to throttle her, but perhaps she would be appreciative afterwards, he reasoned, and so he’d made room on his broom for her.
Granger had said she needed a ride, that it wouldn’t take her very long, and that she’d make it worth his while.
As much as he fancied Hermione Granger, he very much doubted that last bit the longer he waited, leaning up against a cold tombstone, surrounded by the unseen inhabitants of this damned cemetery. But still, he came when called, he did as he was asked and she’d made no protest when he offered her a broom ride. Draco had been rather impressed by that, actually, when she’d shown no signs of fear. Unless he was very much mistaken, Draco could have sworn he’d heard a rumour in school that she was terrified of flying. Since he’d never seen her do it, he believed that to be evidence enough, but it must have simply been coincidental.
Thinking about brooms and flying was a limited distraction when the scratching noises grew louder. Appearance was everything. Never let someone, or something, know your fear, as it empowers them and weakens you. Plus, it just wasn’t becoming. Draco refused to spin his head about the cemetery, searching out the culprits, not because he was terrified of what he might find lurking about, but rather because it was unseemly. Yes, that was the only reason.
He looked up at the moon and wondered once again about Granger. What was taking her so bloody long? And why here, why now?
Puzzling the eccentricities of Hermione Granger did help to pass the time away as she finished whatever business had them both here in the middle of the night. It kept him from thinking about what lay six feet beneath him, but only for a moment or two.
Without moving his head, Draco surreptitiously glanced around. There were several broken and crumbling graves surrounding him, some mostly obscured by ivy or moss. An angel with closed eyes loomed above him, her right arm raised and broken off. Whatever she’d once held was now long gone, but still she threatened to bring down judgment and wrath on those who stood too close. He quickly looked away.
Whatever this was that was going on between him and Granger, all the flirting and teasing, the late-night owls and occasional fire calls, left Draco captivated… and often hard-up. There was something about her that he couldn’t shake, something that intrigued and excited him. He would do anything to have her. Obviously.
He laughed. It’s always the quiet ones, he thought, ignoring the dashes of shadows in the distance. They were nothing anyway - just his imagination. Nothing was out there.
Where the hell is she?
Deciding that he’d waited long enough for Granger, he sought her out, moving slowly, very quietly through the graves. She’d said she needed a ride; that this wouldn’t take long. Well, it was time to leave now, and Draco wanted to claim his witch. Whatever she was after, surely she’d found and collected it. If not, then she’d just have to do without.
As he made his way in the direction he thought he’d seen her last, he distracted himself with images of what he planned to do to her once they returned to her flat. Suddenly he wasn’t quite as cold as before.
From behind a mausoleum, he thought he saw a faint glow. No one else was here; it must be Granger. His step increased, a sense of relief washing over him which he quickly ignored. There was nothing to be frightened of, he assured himself once again as he rounded the far wall. Here he found Granger, hunched over nearly in half, clutching something. Her wand was lying on the ground at a distance, the light from it casting long shadows against the mausoleum wall.
What the-- Draco lifted his wand, whispered, ”Lumos,” to see what she held, and immediately wished he hadn’t.
The light from his wand startled her. Her wild hair flew when she looked up, clutching her quarry closer to her chest. She was stark white in the wand light, and the mutilated body in her hands was terribly grey and oozing down her arms.
The limited contents of Draco’s stomach rebelled. He was nearly sick right then, when his brain finally caught up to what his eyes already knew. Granger was eating a dead body. He stumbled backwards, dropped his wand, which instantly went dark as he fell flat on his arse. In the back of his mind he was thankful for the darkness, not realizing his fears would only increase when left to just his imagination.
Draco screamed when he felt her hands light upon him.
“Shh, Draco, Draco! It’s all right,” she soothed.
Using his hands and feet, Draco scurried backwards away from her - from it - as far as he could. One hand went out from under him and he almost collapsed into the ransacked grave. He righted himself, turned over onto his knees and vomited. His stomach heaved wretchedly, mucus ran down from his nose into his mouth, and he knew that awful keening noise was coming from him, but he didn’t care. Granger pressed a cool hand against his heated face while the other she used to rub his back. Despite the horrible scene, he was comforted by her touch.
She whispered, “I was afraid to tell you the truth, Draco. Afraid you wouldn’t believe me.”
After a moment, his stomach settled, but he couldn’t rise, couldn’t look at her. His hands were trembling as he wiped his face with his handkerchief. He had to have imagined it; it couldn’t be real. This was just a nightmare, one he would surely wake from any moment. Granger continued to rub his back and brushed his hair back from his forehead. Eventually, he rose up on his knees, eyes screwed shut, counting under his breath. When he reached ten, he opened his eyes and saw her watching him. Nothing grotesque about her; just the lovely girl he’d been desperate to shag for several weeks now. None of it was real after all.
Draco laughed at himself, feeling like such an imbecile. Granger wasn’t a ghoul! It was just this place - this damned cemetery and his ruddy imagination getting the best of him. Still chuckling, he turned to sit on his backside, groaning in relief. Then he saw her wand still shining on the corpse. He cut his eyes her way.
“I can’t help what I am, Draco,” she began, her eyebrows furrowing as she explained. He could only listen. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I could never find the right time, or way. Believe me, I’ve done my best to hide it from you, from everybody.” She edged closer to him. “I still want you, Draco.”
“What does that mean?” he asked, his eyes growing huge with renewed fear.
Granger slapped his leg. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she admonished. “If we’re really going to make a go of us, then you had to know, to see. There wasn’t a better way.”
“You honestly think letting me watch you eat a fucking corpse was the best method of telling me you’re a ghoul?”
“I’m sorry! I knew you wouldn’t believe me. If I told you, you’d think I was mental-”
“You are mental!”
His voice rang through the cemetery, disturbing no one. Neither of them spoke for a long moment as Draco caught his breath and she collected her thoughts. She looked at him sheepishly, “Honestly, it’s still me; I’m still the same old Hermione I’ve always been. Well, sort of. I can’t change who I am, Draco. But … I have to eat.”
When he stayed silent, she continued. “What if I were a vegetarian? Just because I have special dietary needs doesn’t mean you have to follow suit.”
“What an awful analogy, Granger,” he stated, cringing. He had to swallow back the urge to be sick again.
Draco looked at her for a very long time, processing everything he’d seen during the last ten minutes along with her pleas for understanding. So much sincerity stared back at him that, for a moment, he saw nothing else.
Hermione was still as beautiful and wild as she was not an hour ago, when he’d rushed to her flat when she’d called him. What really had changed since then? Nothing whatsoever, he realized. Granger was absolutely right, as always. If this was who she was, then who was he to judge her? Merlin help him, he still wanted her. Besides, it wasn’t like he had to marry her, he reasoned. They were two consenting adults, each interested in the other.
Nodding his head, Draco came to a decision. “All right, but there have to be some rules if this is going to work,” he said, swallowing thickly. “For starters, I don’t think I can watch you eat. Ever. Second, no one can know… about you.”
The look she gave him could be classified as nothing short of hurt. “I mean, what you are, your…condition. To be perfectly honest, if my parents knew you were a cannibal, I’m positive they would overlook your blood status. But being a ghoul - that they cannot know, Granger, otherwise this,” he said, gesturing between them, “is finished. You do only eat … dead things, yes?”
She made a face and he took that as yes, and then continued, thinking aloud. The more he spoke, the more he relaxed. Every requisition he made, she agreed to, nodding eagerly. This can work. All we need are some basic ground rules. Granger understands that, of course.
Draco stood and offered a hand to help her up. As he wiped away the dirt from his trousers, Granger hugged him tightly. She felt no differently than before, and he felt assured that everything would turn out.
Granger released him and smirked. “I always knew you were tasteful, Draco.”