Red Passion - HP - Draco/Hermione - 4/31
Title: Red Passion
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: Mature (R)
Links: Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3
Summary: Post HBP. A vampire saves Draco from death and introduces him to a dark world. With Hermione Granger on the menu, can Draco save his enemy and his own soul? Eventual DM/HG.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Written for profitless entertainment.
Warning: Blood, violence, and eventually scenes of a sexual nature.
Author's Note: Story goes AU after the events of Half Blood Prince.
Wordcount for Total Story: ~65,900 words (varied by chapter)
Chapter 4
Draco pulled the blanket up, covering his shoulders and burying his head even further into the pillow. His pale face turned so that he could watch the warm glow from the window slowly fade away, leaving the room cast in elongated shadows. Before him sat a tray of deliciously displayed fruits and pasties, but he paid it little attention. Hunger had not been with him in several nights, not since he had attempted to escape the manor.
The dreadful evening that Darien had murdered the old muggle, Draco had indeed made his back to the vampire's estate without aid, and he had drug himself upstairs to his designated room as well. He hadn't left the spot since then. Madam Hart had brought him all forms of refreshments, stopping in just to check on him at times, but he hadn't yet seen Darien.
Draco's gut clenched, and he realized that the vampire was on his way-so said his blood, and it could not be wrong.
A moment later the door opened, the dark eyed figure taking slow, deliberate strides into the room. Darien watched Draco from where he stood, and the young wizard instinctively knew that the vampire could see every detail, every mannerism of his form from that distance. Draco refused to meet his master's eyes, disgust rising in him like bile at the back of his throat. He couldn't tell what angered him more, the thought that the vampire was a cold blooded killer or that he, Draco Malfoy, had been the reason for another innocent man's death.
"You do not look well," Darien said at last, crossing the floor toward the bed.
Draco rolled his eyes at the statement. "Speak for yourself-I'm still alive, which means I'm still better off than you."
Darien raised a warning brow. "Yes, you are," he said. "I do not agree with your weakened state, though. You will be far too irresistible to my guests looking like an injured lamb. They will have a difficult time keeping their hands off anything young and fresh, as it is. Nevertheless, I will need you downstairs tonight to represent the family."
Family? Draco wanted to ask, but instead his arrogance won. "Housing a party?" he spat.
"Actually, I am."
Draco didn't reply, so the vampire reached down and grabbed the blanket by one corner, wrenching it out of the wizard's grip. Draco glared up at him, sitting up with arms crossed over his chest.
"Like I'd go to your little undead get-together," he growled. "Like I'd make nice with you and the freaks you're inviting."
Darien did not look angered by the outburst, but a streak of crimson, as thin and faint as a pen mark, encircled his irises. "I would save the temper," the vampire said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It makes the blood rise to your skin."
He turned, walking back to the doorway. "Madam Hart laid out your clothing and has taken the liberty of running you a bath. Be ready and downstairs within the hour. My guests will have already arrived. Entertain them with your delightful banter, if you wish. I will arrive shortly after. If you disobey..." He looked over his shoulder with a sneer on his wide lips. "I will know and you will most definitely reap the consequences."
Voices, as soft as whispers and as faint as the murmurs of a dream, filtered up the staircase. Their volume was loud enough, and their carefree tones were what one would expect to hear at a party. It was something in the meaning of their words that was wrong, so very inhuman and quiet.
Draco listened from the corridor, the golden light of lamps and caged fire setting his face aglow. He ran a hand through his still damp hair, pushing it back as he had worn it throughout most of his school career. The darkness of the hallway behind him seemed to pull him forward, tickling fingers down his spine. He knew that the sensation was false. After all, that was the dark downstairs; the parlor may be bright enough to see by, but the guests were the night itself.
The young wizard ignored such foreboding thoughts and stepped down the staircase, somehow managing to carry himself with an air of dignity. However, he didn't avert his eyes from his own feet until they caught sight of the wood paneling of the first floor. He saw then why the sound of their voices seemed so unearthly to him-those beings speaking did not match their own words.
They were beautiful, all of them. He was sure that a few must have been rather homely before the fatal kiss was bestowed them, but such faults must have all but disappeared. The plumpest face seemed round with succulence. Likewise, the gauntest was now a mystery lined with seductive shadowing. Draco had expected the vampires to have Darien's marble-like skin, and he was not disappointed with what he saw.
Their dress fell over that clear skin like paint, some of it in wizarding forms with fine fabrics, some modern muggle wear. There were even black, dated styles reborn in the creatures' eternal bulges and curves. As for their ages, who could know? Several looked to be his age, but others were better peers for his parents and professors. The distinctions between them were amazing, but their voices were all the same. Some sounded high and others deep, some were aristocratic and others were from the street. No matter the dialect, they all spoke in the same words, old words, blackened with maturity and pain.
Draco did not like hearing them, or seeing them, or even being in the same room with the large crowd of vampires. Their sheer number intimidated him more than Darien had yet accomplished on his own.
"No reason for fear, little wizard," said a delicious being.
She appeared beside him, a gothic wonder in violet and deep indigo velvet that tapered at her waist and hung down like a curtain parted halfway down the center. The vampire stared up at him, glittering wet eyes matching her gown. She leaned against him, swaying gently as if to let the crowd pass around her and lacing her fingers through his. Her bodice moved against his arm in waves and suddenly he was sand being seduced out to sea.
"You're Darien's boy." She smiled, a predator revealed in tiny pointed pearls behind her lips. "Draco," she cooed.
The wizard frowned, attempted to step away from her. "Thank you, but I'm already well aware of my own name."
"My name is Annalisa-perhaps that is something new for you to add to your. . ." She paused, running a finger over his temple. "Infinite bank of knowledge."
"Was that your attempt at sarcasm?" Draco snapped. The vampire gave a light, airy laugh, and the sound made a lump grow in his throat. Perhaps that wasn't the most intelligent thing to say to a blood thirsty creature. "Because it wasn't bad," he added as an afterthought.
Annalisa lifted his hand to her lips, running a soft, dry kiss over his knuckles. "Why thank you," she whispered. Draco felt her tongue dart out and lick his middle finger. "You're not bad, yourself."
I don't know if I should be preparing for my death or waiting for the much anticipated loss of my vir-
"Anna!" snapped a voice. "Wait."
Draco turned to see another woman approaching him, making her way through a crowd of male vampires who looked on her bumbling walk with distaste. The seventeen-year-old boy's eyes followed her barely covered breasts as she bounced forward, her boots clicking heavily. A pixie's face flanked with pigtails of golden curls was suddenly hovering a few inches from his chest, eyes scanning him in an almost scholarly way. The vampire-for Draco knew that that was what she must be-rested her hands on the unbearably short skirt she was boasting and stood tall.
"Is this him?" she asked Annalisa, her voice as giddy as a schoolgirl's. "The new dragon?"
"Do you see anyone else with warm blood running through their veins?" Annalisa snapped.
"Well, there are plenty well fed here tonight, so yes," the blonde answered. A grin appeared on her face, and her hands found Draco's abdomen. She put an arm around him and turned him away from Annalisa. "Speaking of plenty. . ." she breathed in a husky voice.
"Holly, you know that the host has plans," the other vampire said, pulling Draco's hand so that he was still close to her. "This young wizard is to be our entertainment for the evening." Annalisa let go of Draco suddenly, hooking Holly's free arm in her own. "But what kind of civilized beings would we be if we didn't share?"
Draco had barely heard their conversation, his head heavy with fog. He sighed and realized that he had been moving for the last minute, out of the crowded foyer and into the poorly lit parlor. Suddenly, the one named Annalisa pushed him back, and he stumbled into a wide, empty chair. She approached like a lion but pounced onto the arm of the chair instead of her prey. Her lips were on his before he could open his mouth to speak.
Her kiss took his breath, most literally, and replaced it with cold nothingness, but that didn't seem to stop his body from turning into a furnace. He heard a giggle, when she pulled away, and felt weight on this thigh. Holly was on the other arm, one leg over his lap and a hand running over his fine satin robes.
"No," he said feeling Annalisa nuzzle his neck softly. "I should go. . ."
"If you wish," Holly said, leaning into him to kiss his ear. "But go upstairs, where we can be alone, little wizard. Perhaps you can show us some of your magic tricks."
Any other day, this would be a bout of good luck. Why the bloody hell do I have to know that they only want to suck me dry? Ignorance is such bliss. "Stop," he asked. "Darien will be angry."
"He'll be happy that you were such a good host," Holly answered. And without a moment's thought, it became the right answer. For some reason, his mind wouldn't dare contradict her.
Then he felt it, a sting on his neck. It was the strangest feeling, leaving him drained, emotionless, but yet filled with a passion unknown to him. It was different from Darien's, somehow less powerful but more needy. Annalisa's eyes captured his when she lifted her head. Draco could see his blood in them, staring back mockingly.
"Don't worry. It's just a little," she assured him, stroking his cheek as Holly began to longingly search his skin for a spot more desirable.
Draco looked away from them, at the room itself. He would let them do as they wished. Let them kill him, if that was what they wanted. It doesn't matter anymore, nothing does. This is how it ends.
Light caught his eye as the parlor door opened, and his vision blurred even more so. Two figures lumbered in, the tallest, holding the other against him. Draco thought they were lovers, trapped in an embrace, but then he saw a face. The man, the vampire, Draco knew. He had seen those coal eyes before, hungering over the young girls of Hogwarts. What had been his name? Sanguini. The tame vampire.
"Domesticated my arse," Draco muttered.
And then he saw her, head flung back and eyes closed in innocent sleep as the male vampire leaned down toward the pale flesh of her chest. Draco blinked. How . . . That's impossible. . .
Pushing himself up, to Holly's dismay, he stared at the girl with the most dumbfounded expression imaginable.
"Granger?"
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