Red Passion - HP - Draco/Hermione - 12/31
Title: Red Passion
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: Mature (R)
Links: Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11
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 12
The second day was harder than the first and the third even harder than that.
Draco had always been well fed, even if his slim frame held little more than lanky muscle. At Malfoy manor, his father had disciplined him often but rarely did Draco receive a punishment as minor as bed without dessert-when he did warrant such a light reprimand, it was a matter a house elf with a full platter of leftovers could easily remedy. Draco had never really valued food or thought on the consequences of starvation until the third morning following Darien's threat.
The scent of breakfast drifting up the stairs tempted Draco to disobey his master. He decided not to. He was a coward, after all. He was going to die, he was certain, but he couldn't bring himself to make a suicidal move. Not yet. Self-preservation was funny that way.
He waited the day out, ignoring his nagging senses. Night would soon arrive. Then he could sleep. Perhaps Darien would call on him tonight.
The curtain was drawn at his window. He sat against it, staring through a glare of light dividing the bottom pane. The sun hung low, casting its waves of lively lavender and pink through the forest. The front of the house was shadowed, but it was still bright enough outside for him to make out the shape of Madam Hart and Hermione reentering the house, both carrying baskets full of herbs, mushrooms, and other plant-life they'd found within the growth.
"Damn it," Draco hissed. An open palm slammed against the glass. "Stupid girl!"
Out in broad daylight with only an old muggle woman as her warden, Draco had expected Hermione to make some sort of move, to fight and run, like the brave little Gryffindor she was supposed to be. That's what Potty and Weasel would have done. Granted when the duo of heroic fairies told the tale, they'd probably turn the old hag into a troll...Draco shook off the mental rant and crossed his room, falling down onto his bed.
He took a glass of water (courtesy of the bathroom connected to his room) from his side table and gulped it down. Drinking it made him feel full, at least for a good twenty seconds.
"I hate her," he blurted.
Draco slid an arm beneath his head, brow wrinkled as he stared up at the ceiling. He did, didn't he? He hated her. Darien was probably using his powers to trick him into thinking about her escaping, thinking about helping her. How could Draco know any different? How could he be sure that everything he had done wasn't the result of Darien's interfering mind games?
He couldn't. The vampire had told him as much.
". . Are you even sure that it was you who asked me to give her safe haven from Sanguini? You don't remember it, I know, and I can speak to you, influence you-how do you know that your defense of her was not me, speaking through you? After all, you hate her. A mudblood."
A mudblood, as Darien had said. Draco hissed at the thought of helping her, but what made him more uncomfortable was not the thought that Darien might have forced him to help her but the thought that perhaps he defended her of his own free will. What would his father say?
"Guess it's a good thing he's not here then," Draco muttered.
His father would have beat him for standing too close to a mudblood, especially her, one of Potter's groupies. She was the enemy, after all. Or she had been, back before his life had been shot to hell by his own failure. His failure to kill another human.
A chill ran down his spine.
Maybe it wasn't the vampire...Maybe it was me. Would it really be so bad, not hating people like her?
Draco snorted at the thought. "Hungry has officially driven me mad." But there was no conviction in the words. He rolled onto his side, staring out at the cluttered room and wanting very desperately to fall asleep.
He wanted very desperately to sleep, but he had reasons for rising. Night called to him. It was time for the vampire to awaken.
He took the stairs slowly, at human speed, listening to the house. Quiet. He would not be disturbed.
Darien opened the doorway, finding the room darker than the hall. He watched the form on the bed shift slightly, the heavy breath of sleep as constant as her heartbeat. He ran the side of one finger across his lip, the blood of yesterday's meal stirring beneath the thin skin. His body tensed as he caught the girl's scent in the air, clean and sweet, laced with need.
He wanted her to flow into him, but he could not allow himself to take the kill. She was not a meal. She was a tool for his use. He would have to resist the urge to rip out her throat, for his son's sake.
The young were never stable in their thoughts, and Draco was very young. Darien could not let the wizard slip away. The vampire had thought on his son for several nights now, the conflict within the boy's mind. Darien had decided what must be done. Draco would fall to temptation only if the girl approached him first.
Darien found the solution easy.
Make her yearn, make her want, make her his. She will beg for him after he is turned, and his hunger will not let him resist...I do this for you, my son.
Darien knew that Draco's subconscious had heard the apology, and the tension left him. Draco would understand when he became his true son. He would love his master for this gift.
The door shut behind him, Darien slipped through brethren shadow and eased down onto the bed, his cold body beside her warm one, his black hair lacing with her curls. His hand traced her face, and he leaned in close to her. She moved onto her back, lips parting slightly as he reached out with his mind, finding her will and taking hold of it. In sleep, his thrall found its grasp quickly. Her dreams danced to his song.
"Hermione," he whispered into ear. "He will take you, Hermione ..."
Darien didn't press his lips to hers. He already felt her blood calling-the need for it would be too great if he moved his mouth any closer to her body. He let his hand roam in its stead. Her skin was a finer silk than her gown, and he pulled away in surprise at the heat beneath the cloth.
Innocence, ready to be taken.
Darien's eyes darkened, black in the absence of light, crimson in its presence. He felt the saliva burst in his mouth, warm and reminiscent. Hunger was approaching faster than he'd expected. It had been several days since he'd tasted innocence in his son's blood, and his need for it was building rapidly. He had resisted the need for stolen blood, pure blood, for so many years, but the drug was back in his system. The addiction was greater than it had been when he was young and greedy in his hunger.
I cannot claim her-she is to be his, not mine.
Darien pulled up her nightgown, stopping when it touched her hip. His fingers roamed her white thigh, easing toward her body's center. Hermione's back arched slightly, her eyes moving beneath their lids. She was seeing what he wanted her to see, who he wanted her to see.
"Draco..." she moaned in a long sigh.
The vampire smiled to himself as he moved down her body, pulling away the cotton standing between him and victory. She was not resistant to the thoughts he planted, not as his Draco would surely be. This would be a simple task.
He slipped a long, slender finger into her heat, his thumb circling outside. She sucked in a quick breath, head pushed into her pillow. His ministrations would take her soon, would scar her mind with one touch, one memory from a dream of her enemy holding her. Darien grabbed her leg with one hand, keeping her from moving. His grip tightened, and he could feel a tingle on his palm, capillaries cycling their load through the flesh below. His nails broke the skin of her leg and her knee jerked up.
Her breathing stopped for a fraction of a second.
Darien slid off the bed in an instant, his preternatural hearing shocked by the sudden scream tearing the air around him. The vampire glared down at the awakened the girl, mocking the stunned expression on her face, the fear entering her eyes as her knees found themselves apart.
"What?" she cried, the only word to break her scream.
Darien didn't grant her an answer, his eyes on his fingertips, the sweet droplets found his mouth in an instant. He threw himself back toward the door instead of forward, as his nature told him. He could not attack the girl-his night had been spoiled enough by his eagerness to take her. The thrall was ruined, but that could be fixed, so long as he resisted the urge to...
He needed a taste, only a taste to sate his hunger for a few more nights.
Darien darted out of the room, finding himself at the top of the staircase in the blink of an eye. He took the unlocked door off of its hinges, moving so quickly that the lone occupant of the room had no time awaken. The vampire jerked Draco out of the bed, slamming the wizard down to the floor and onto his knees. The vampire took to one knee beside him, yanking the young man's head to one side. Savagely, he reopened one of the sealed scars over Draco's collar, shaking as warmth flooded his mouth.
Darien slowed himself, feeling Draco begin to struggle against the numbness. A fist slammed into vampire's shoulder, another hand yanked at his hair in an attempt to pull him off. Darien's hunger resided when he heard Draco's voice call out in pain.
You resist your master, dragon?
"NO!"
The shout came from the doorway. Darien pulled away from the boy in time to dodge the book flying toward his head.
Hermione stood beside the broken door, rage painted on her red cheeks and her hand seeking out a second book atop the closest shelf.
"You bastard!" she snarled.
Darien dropped Draco to the floor, blood and spittle dripping from his lips as he bared his stained fangs. He lunged forward like a predator, a growl of frustration leaving his mouth. Hermione leapt out of the way, falling to the floor, but the vampire did not stop for her. Instead, he disappeared through the doorway.
Darien flew over the staircase, landing on the ground floor and swallowing the blood remaining in his mouth as he steadied himself. He could see a form at the end of the hall. The vampire clenched his fists in anger.
"I have made a mistake tonight, Melissa," he said. "The girl..."
"These things to happen, master," Madam Hart chirped, adjusting her nightcap. She stepped forward and put a gentle hand on the vampire's back. "They need time. She will ripen into a feast for your dragon, and he will come to love his new father. You have seen the process before, master."
"We have no time, Melissa." Darien wiped his mouth with one hand, disgusted at the mess he'd wasted on his sleeve. "The girl isn't important in the end. My mistake is with hurting my boy. Draco must be reborn soon if I'm to keep him-if I do not kill him myself, some other will."
Madam Hart raised a wrinkled brow. "Then they're coming for him?"
"They are coming for both of us."
Draco knew he wasn't dead, mainly because his face hurt when he hit the floor. He felt too weak to move, but he opened his eyes. His vision quickly adjusted to the moonlit room, and he saw the crushed door, and the girl sitting against the wall beside it, sobbing with the side of her face shoved against the paint and a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. It took him a moment more to realize that it was Hermione sitting in his room.
"Granger?" he muttered, attempting to pull himself up. He slipped back down onto the floor, cheek against the wood paneling. Why isn't she looking at me?
His vision blurred again, and he raised a heavy arm, pressing his hand against his bleeding neck. He opened his mouth again, wanting to ask the witch for help, but his lips closed again soundlessly. His eyes were on her gown, staring at the bloody blossoms appearing on the bunched fabric over her thighs.
"Hermione?"
Her shoulders shook, but she didn't turn to face him.
Draco felt his stomach roll in unease, certain that it was not from hunger.
>>READ THE NEXT CHAPTER>>