Blood/Magic - Harry Potter/True Blood (6/9)
November 3
Hermione never saw it coming.
One moment, she was rummaging for her keys in her bag; the next, she was on the ground. Blinding pain in her head. Blood spattered on the pavement.
She didn't even have a chance to reach for her wand. Something struck her again, and everything went black.
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Something on her lips: cold, wet, metallic.
She coughed, gagged. Nearly vomited. Until she realized that as whatever-it-was filled her mouth, the throbbing in her head started to fade.
She swallowed. Suddenly the liquid tasted good. Not just good -- amazing. She wanted more.
"Easy," said a voice.
She opened her eyes.
"Eric," she said.
"At your service." He pulled his wrist away from her lips. "How are you feeling?"
She sat up, shaking, thrumming. She'd never felt so alive.
"What did you do to me?" she whispered.
"Don't thank me or anything," he said, sitting back. "I only saved your life."
She licked her lips. "Was that your blood?"
"It was." He looked up.
She followed his gaze. "Oh my God."
She was in a bar she didn't recognize, and it looked like a horror movie set. The Tru Blood sign on the wall was splattered with blood. Strands of something red and horrible were dangling from the hanging lights above the pool tables. "What happened?" she breathed.
"Some associates of Russell Edgington," Eric said.
"Who -- " She sat up. Her shirt was wet. "Is this them," she asked, examining the enormous bloodstains on her clothes, "or me?"
"Both, I think," Eric said.
"Who's Russell Edgington?" She felt her head. No pain. No cuts.
"A very, very bad guy." Eric stood, went behind the bar, and came back with a T-shirt. "Here."
She unfolded it. "Fangtasia?"
"We're at my bar," he explained.
"Where's my wand?"
He reached into his back pocket and handed it to her. She examined it: a little dinged, but nothing serious.
"What -- " She shook her head hard. "I'm sorry. I'm still a little confused. Why, exactly, am I in your bar covered with blood?"
"You were attacked." Eric reached down, took her hands in his. He pulled her to her feet. "I don't know how they knew you were bringing me the potion today. They wanted it. As leverage."
"Turn around," Hermione said.
Eric did, and she stripped the bloody shirt and bra off and quickly pulled the T-shirt over her head. He turned back as she was tugging it into place.
"So you healed me," she said.
"I did."
"With your blood."
"Yes."
She narrowed her eyes. "So now you'll know what I'm thinking."
"Not thinking," he corrected. He looked amused. "Feeling, maybe."
"Take me home," she said. She was suddenly annoyed. She knew the likely consequences of having drunk his blood. Heightened senses, hallucinations, and... "If I start having sex dreams about you, I am not going to be happy."
"Are you ever happy?" Eric pulled car keys out of his jacket pocket.
"You are really a troll," Hermione replied.
At the highway, Eric turned north instead of south.
"Wrong exit," Hermione said.
"I'm not taking you home." Eric kept his eyes on the road.
"Uh huh," Hermione said. "And to where, exactly, are you kidnapping me?"
"I'm not kidnapping you," Eric said coolly. "In case you didn't realize it, which I imagine you didn't because you were almost dead, there are at least two vampires who know who you are and what you're able to do. I sent Pam over to your apartment to pack it up and cancel your lease. You're going into hiding."
"Oh like hell I am." Hermione jabbed Eric in the arm. When he didn't respond, she did it again.
In a split second, his fingers were wrapped around her wrist.
"Don't distract the driver," he said sharply.
It was a little odd, she thought, that she wasn't absolutely furious. Either the attack had left her too drained to be upset, or Eric's blood was already taking effect.
She didn't want to think about that.
She turned, looked out the window. "Where are we going, then?"
"I have a couple of properties outside Shreveport," Eric said. "You'll stay in one of them."
"And my job? My research?" Hermione said sharply. "I took a leave of absence for you already. I can't exactly leave indefinitely."
"It isn't indefinite," Eric said. "It's just until I can make sure you'll be safe."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "You know I'm a witch, don't you? I can protect myself."
He didn't answer for a moment. Then: "I already lost Sookie. I don't need to lose you too."
"Oh, for God's sake. Don't be so dramatic." She remembered, as she said the words, that he had told her the same thing months ago. When she'd taken his blood to give to Severus.
He didn't reply.
The property turned out to be a three-storied plantation house ten miles outside the Shreveport city limits. It had peeling paint and broken shutters and the porch sagged, but inside it was surprisingly nice.
"It smells in here," Hermione said, looking at the polished hardwood floors, the low couch, the expensive-looking leather armchairs.
"It's the blood." Eric circled the room in a microsecond; the curtains fluttered closed. Hermione was used to his hyperspeed movement by now, but she still frowned at him.
"Quit," she said. She wrinkled her nose against the barrage of odors. "Ugh. Eric. How long is this going to last?"
"Depends on the person."
"Eric."
He stopped. "What?"
Hermione stood very still. Because she was buzzing, suddenly, with his nearness. And she knew it was the blood, she knew it wasn't real, but she couldn't stop herself.
"Come here," she said, and oh, now she knew how Severus had felt.
In an instant he was before her, looking down at her with his blue, blue eyes.
"You wanted me?" he said, and his voice was so low, rough, rumbling through her.
Her lips were six inches from his. Then four. Then two.
Oh, she did. She wanted him like she'd never wanted anyone in her life.
She took a deep, unsteady breath. She put her hands on his chest and closed her eyes. "I can't."
"Sure you can," he said, and his lips brushed hers when he said the words.
She felt her breathing pick up, felt her heart start to race. "No," she murmured, and kissed him.
He let out a low groan against her mouth. Hands on her waist, her ribs, her throat.
She shuddered, drew back. "Don't bite me."
"No." He dragged his tongue over her collarbone.
"Wait. Wait." She turned her back on him, put her hands over her face. "I can't -- this is very confusing."
He slid his hands from her shoulders to her elbows, dropped them to her hips. She felt his lips against her neck.
She put her head back, arched, moaned.
"Still confused?" Palm pressing against her stomach, making her gasp.
She wrapped her hand around his fingers and peeled them away. Breathing hard, she walked to the kitchen and put both hands on the counter.
"It's nothing but the effect of your blood," she said.
"Sure." He chuckled.
"Biological," she added. "Or magical."
"It would've happened anyway," he said. He was on the other side of the counter, leaning forward on his elbows, his blue eyes piercing hers.
"You don't know that," she said sharply.
"The blood's just a catalyst," he said, and the smirk on his face was absolutely infuriating. Mostly because it made her want him even more.
"Eric, I think you should probably go," she managed to say.
"You can't kick me out of my own house." He put his hands over hers.
"I wasn't kicking you out." She pulled her hands back because she didn't trust herself to touch him. "I just..." She took a deep breath.
"Just what?" He angled his head to meet her eyes.
"It's complicated," she said.
His lips curled in a carnal smile. "The wizard," he said.
"No, not the wizard," Hermione said crossly. "But I suspect, Eric, that sleeping with you is not going to be mutually beneficial."
The smile turned into a grin. "I think you'd be surprised," he said, and there was a blur and a rush of wind, and she was alone.
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Pam showed up on the third day she was there.
"Hi," she purred, dropping into one of the armchairs.
Hermione clutched her chest. "Good God, Pam," she said, "you scared the life out of me. Don't you knock?"
"That's a four-thousand-dollar coffee table," Pam said in a bored voice, jerking her chin at the nail polish Hermione had spilled when she shrieked and jumped.
"You pay for it," Hermione snapped, picking up the bottle and recapping it. "You're the one who broke in."
"Not your house," Pam said archly. "Eric sent me. To check on you."
"I'm fine." Hermione aimed her wand at the spill on the coffee table. "Scourgify."
"Neat trick," Pam said, watching the nail polish vanish.
Hermione scowled. "You've checked on me."
"Right." Pam looked around. "You're great. So." She smirked at Hermione. "'Bye."
"Wait. Pam." Hermione stood up.
An irritated sigh. "Yeah."
"Is -- " She paused. "Is Eric coming by?"
"Oh, for God's sake." Pam rolled her eyes. "I don't know. Maybe." She opened the door. "See you."
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By the third week, she was itchy and irritable with impatience. She'd done what Eric asked -- laid low, worked on writing, communicated with her colleagues and Severus by owl only -- but it was driving her crazy, having to wait for his signal to come out of hiding.
He picked up on the third ring. "Northman."
"Eric, I am climbing the walls here."
"Hermione." His voice a low rumble. "Nice to hear from you."
"Wish I could say the same for you," she said.
He chuckled. "I'm hurt."
"The hell you are."
"You sound upset." Dry amusement in his tone.
"I am upset," she replied. "You're basically holding me hostage."
"I'm saving your life."
"Three weeks ago you were saving my life. Now you're just -- " She broke off.
"Do you require my presence?" he asked, when she didn't continue.
"No," she snapped. "I do not require your presence. What I require is for you to fix whatever it is you need to fix to get me back to a normal life. I cannot continue like this."
A bored-sounding sigh. "Very well," he said. "Let me...see to a few more things...and I'll get back with you."
"Hurry up," she snapped, and disconnected the call.
He did. Two days later he declared her safe to come out of hiding; an hour after that, he was standing on her porch, lazy smile on his lips, telling her she could stay.
"Stay?" She scowled at him. "What do you mean, stay?"
"I mean," Eric said, "you can stay here. If you want. It's on me."
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you going to show up uninvited?"
"Probably."
"Are you going to -- " She paused. "Expect payment in some other form?"
A low chuckle. "Not unless you want to. But I wouldn't say no."
She considered. It was a nice house, to be sure, even though it was enormous. And she could overlook the creepy vampire-vault in the basement.
She gazed at him levelly. "All right," she said, after a moment. "I'll stay."
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Months passed. Eric came by frequently at first. Flirted with her. Propositioned her. She turned him down each time, reminding him of Severus, reminding him of Sookie.
He came less and less often. And then, one day in the spring, she got a text from him: Sookie is back.
She thought, then, that she was done with vampires and fairies and all their associated drama.
So it came as a bit of a shock when Sookie called to ask for her help.
to be continued
This was Chapter 6.
Skip:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8