Red Passion - HP - Draco/Hermione - 13/31
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 + Chapter 12
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 13
Draco could smell her hair. He wasn't close enough to touch it, but he could smell it, a faint scent, lavender maybe. Fresh and clean. It was a new smell for the room, and he had noticed it before his eyes had ever opened.
Hermione lay against the wall where she'd fallen asleep sometime before dawn, her thick curls covering most of her face. She was gripping the blanket he'd draped over her still body. He'd covered her up for his own sake-even exhaustion wouldn't let him sleep with the sight of her bloodied gown before him, with the glaring questions that came with it.
Drowsy brown eyes were staring up at him.
Draco looked away, down at the mattress. He'd pulled himself up into the bed, an act which now felt awkward in light of his awakened guest on the floor.
"Breakfast," Hermione said.
Draco saw the platter next to the bed, two covered plates, two glasses, and a full pitcher. Hart, of course. Apparently, Darien had changed his mind about starving the wizard. Draco reached out without a word, pouring himself half a glass. He didn't register the taste of orange juice until the last drop rolled over his tongue.
"Sour," he muttered.
Nevertheless, he uncovered the platter and was about to dig into the bowl of cold porridge when he realized that Hermione had yet to move.
"You should eat," she said.
The witch's voice was raw and didn't come easily. She looked as if she was about to insist, but instead she leaned her head against the wall beside her, as if exhausted.
Draco lifted a spoon covered in thick paste to his lips, the taste barely registered, but the texture itself...disgusting. He sat the dirty utensil into the bowl and pushed it back.
"You should eat," Hermione repeated, face against the wall again. "Make yourself. It's important that you make yourself."
Draco told himself that it was too early in the morning for a fight. He pulled the bowl close, taking another spoonful. A scowl crossed his face. "It's hard to enjoy with blood-replenishing potion as a substitute for butter," he noted.
"Blood-replenishing?" Hermione stood, the blanket heavy on her shoulders, and walked over. The tension of her body lessened, her sad expression replaced by a furrowed brow. She examined the platter with a crooked head before dipping her own spoon into the other, untouched bowl. Her cheeks puffed as she rolled a minute portion around in her mouth, nodding to herself. "You're right," she confirmed.
"I'm always right."
"It's in mine as well," she continued. "They, or Hart as it probably was, must have put it into both bowls to ensure that you received a dose."
"How nice," Draco slurred, swallowing again.
"Most people wouldn't have been able to identify it so quickly." She poured herself a drink. "You must have a knack for potions."
"Do you honestly think that Professor Snape would give me the grade just because of my name?" Draco asked. "On second thought, don't answer that." His voice trailed off when he saw a faint smile on her face. "What's so funny?"
"I've never seen you take pride in your academic studies, that's all."
"Not everyone flaunts their intelligence..."
"No, you don't flaunt your intelligence-you only flaunt your money and your surname, then?" Hermione raised a brow. "And the magic in your blood, of course?"
"Shut it, Granger."
"Eat your breakfast, Malfoy." She shoved her bowl in his direction. "Two doses won't kill you-I dare say you need it."
"I'm not hungry now." Draco threw himself back on his bed, arms crossed over chest.
Hermione took a breath through her nose, her lips pursed. She shook her head, as if too angry to speak.
"Do you want it to happen?" she finally asked. Her low voice resounded. "Do you? Do you want to die?" Her shoulders trembled beneath their load. "Answer me, Draco."
Draco blinked at the sound of his name, as if he was still not quite used to hearing it from between those lips. He stared at her in silence, the anger seeming to melt from his face as he looked at her haggard appearance, the stained gown peaking through the cover.
"I'm just tired, 's all," he said. He cleared his throat-"If you must know," he added in a hurry.
Hermione eyed the edge of the bed, as if wanting to take a seat. Instead she stood beside the table, a hand on the platter. "You're hungry," she said. "You haven't eaten in days."
"If I eat too quickly, I'll be sick-or is that something the know-it-all has overlooked." Observing her frown, Draco pulled himself up. "Would you quit dancing around it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes you do!" Draco snapped. "You need me to eat as confirmation that I'm not going take a bite out of your neck when your back's turned. Well, excuse me, but I'm not dreaming in red, and if I were, I somehow doubt you'd be on my menu."
"Are you sure you could lower yourself to eating the muggle-granted, mud probably tastes awful, but when your other option's a dirty old muggle?" Hermione mocked.
"Would you quit being such a bitch already?"
"Excuse me if I'm less than pleasant after being..." Hermione's lip shook, her eyes narrow and wet "...attacked in the middle of the night just so that you'd have a willing bite to eat!"
"What do you mean 'willing'?" Draco slipped off the bed with a sudden thought, a memory of a moment that never happened. Something from a dream of a dream. And an apology from his master. "Darien tried to..." He ran a hand down his face, unsure of the feeling rushing through him. "You remembered it?"
"I think I...interrupted it," she explained, eyes cast down. "The way you asked-do you mean to say that he's done it before, that he's changed my memories."
Draco's mouth opened and closed, and he tried to make it not show on his face. But the memory of Darien standing against her at the table, his hands roaming her frozen form, it remained. Draco had watched that time, felt humiliated for her. It has been his fault then, as well. He realized that the feeling coursing through him was guilt. Again guilt.
A short sob broke the silence. Hermione muffled it with one hand.
"What did he...what did he make you do?" Draco asked, not sure if it was the right question.
"I don't remember-nothing, I think. I think he just made me feel, see things." She seemed to shrink in embarrassment. Draco was sure that any other girl would have stopped there. "I can only conclude that he," she continued," wanted me to feel things for you, feel alright with you changing. Maybe even want to help you."
"I don't understand."
"He wants me to offer myself, when you become one of them," she bit. Her eyes shot up. "I don't know why he's going to so much trouble-it wasn't in the books, the importance of a first kill."
Draco felt cold. It's nothing I didn't already know. That's what you've been telling me, isn't, Darien? I'm going to take her life-that's what you want me to do.
"Perhaps because we're enemies, maybe there's a connection between vampires and their victims," Hermione said. "Have you ever heard of that?"
She stepped back when he sat up, glaring at the open room. "He can hear me sometimes," Draco muttered, ignoring her question. "He can hear me, and I can hear him. But not all the time."
"Is he listening?" Hermione asked.
"No. He's not here."
"You can tell that much? Just like that?"
Draco took a shallow breath, narrowing his eyes slightly. The room seemed loud in its sudden silence. "I can..." he began. He voice softened. "I can feel him. I couldn't before."
"I need you to listen to me," Hermione commanded, capturing his dazed expression. "Answer me honestly. Can you keep a secret from Darien?"
Draco met her eyes. "I know where to hide what I don't want him to see, yes."
"And he's not listening to you now?"
"Granger, would you just tell me!"
She took a breath. "Very well. I found something yesterday, when I was outside with Madame Hart. Have you ever heard of a Mooncalf mushroom? It used to grow wild in most parts of Europe; however, it's a rather rare find these days. It's not missed very much by wizard-kind, though-muggles can't use it in their food or medicine, and it's easily substituted for in most potions."
"Do you have a point?"
"It's very small, yellowish in hue, and flat topped with tiny spots around the edges. It's poisonous to humans, though rarely deadly. However, what's interesting about the mooncalf is that it causes different reactions in different species of magical creatures. A study on the fungi retold an old story about a village where it was common tradition that, if lost in the woods, one found a mooncalf before sunset and ate it. Apparently it was believed that the local "monster" would go into a deep slumber if it attempted to feed on these poisoned wanderers. It was used for protection, you see."
"Monster, as in vampire, then? They ate poisoned mushrooms to ward off vampires? I've never heard of such a thing."
"Well, you've never been stuck in a common room with Neville Longbottom for four hours straight." Hermione glared at him. "You do understand what I'm trying to tell you, correct?"
"You found these mushrooms."
"Several."
Draco nodded. "Bring them to me."
"They're downstairs." She looked down suddenly, drawing her blanket closer. "I was thinking that perhaps we should have them ready, in case Darien comes back. We could, you know, swallow one if it appeared that he was planning to feed."
A faint hiss escaped from between Draco's teeth. "Honestly, Granger, do you expect that to work-if we'd had them earlier, do you think I would have had time to take them before I was bitten? 'Master, you look a bit peckish-if you could hold off for a moment while I enjoy a quick snack...'"
"Perhaps not, but that's no reason to..."
Draco raised a hand, cutting her off. "Just shut it a minute, Granger." He felt a chill run down his spine as his weakened form groaned. The wizard fell back onto his bed once more. "Were you bitten last night?" he asked, suddenly out of breath.
Hermione shook here head. "No," she said aloud when he didn't look in her direction. "Why does that matter?"
He was quiet a moment more. "Bring me the mushrooms, Granger. All of them."
She pursed her lips. "You don't give me orders, Malfoy. I found them, and I'm not going to let you use them all in some half-assed attempt to..."
"I'm going to die."
Hermione blinked, mouth hung open. "You won't."
"He's got me-you know as much, you know how many times he's drunk from me," Draco sneered. "I'm stuck with him. You're not. Just get the damn mushrooms."
"I won't let you do this," Hermione whispered.
"Yes you will," Draco spat. "You'll do it because I'm the fucking prick who's responsible for your favorite old muggle-lover's death. I'm the one who almost killed your little boyfriend, and who would like nothing more that to see you and your friends murdered just for existing. There's no changing me. I'm Draco Fucking Malfoy, and you'll get me the mushrooms. Now."
"You're such a bastard."
"Point of fact, no. And I need someone to report my honorable pureblood death to my perfectly legitimate pureblood parents. Too bad the messenger's a mudblood. The sacrifices one makes."
Hermione let the blanket drop from her shoulders to the floor. She stood firmly a moment more, as if waiting for him to finish. "You didn't have to die alone, you know."
Draco didn't reply. He simply listened as Hermione's footsteps disappeared down the staircase toward her room. His eyes closed to the day and he took a calm breath. "Hermione," he stated, seeing her face behind clamped lids, "I won't kill you."
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