Red Passion - HP - Draco/Hermione - 14/31
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 + Chapter 13
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 14
They were bitter. He should have expected them to taste bitter, but, instead, he'd been looking at the yellow, spotted surface of their soft caps and mistakenly thinking they would taste like bananas.
He would have liked to have had a banana again before he died. Perhaps Madam Hart would have brought him a banana, if he'd asked. Too late.
Draco swallowed the last cap from the Mooncalf, taking in a deep breath. He wasn't sure what effect the mushroom was supposed to have on the eater, only what it did to the vampire, so he could not be certain that it was the mushroom that had caused the ache between his eyes.
He wiped his hands on the cloth napkin that had been holding the bitter little morsels and glanced out the window. The sun was low and steadily falling. It was as if the end of time was catching up with him. Draco resisted the urge to panic at the coming night, remembering that his job was simple and required very little from him.
Draco stood, walking to the little bathroom that was connected to his quarters. The bathtub was half full, steam rising from the water's hot surface. He turned the facet until it shut off. Steam clouded the mirror and stuck to his forehead.
He unbuttoned his shirt, letting it slide off of his arms and to the floor. He paused, thinking of his own dignity, and decided it would be best to leave his gray slacks on. It wouldn't do to be found in wet boxers, or, worse, the nude. He lifted his bare feet off of the cool tile and let the first sink into the hot water.
A breath of air hissed through his teeth as his skin adapted to the harsh temperature. He let the other foot follow and slid into the deep bath. His tense muscles relaxed as the warmth seeped into his body. He was tempted to take a nap, but he knew that he couldn't let it end here. He had to make sure that Darien would come to him as soon as the sun was down.
Only then would she have time to escape. . .
Draco took the small bundle from Hermione, avoiding her sad, honey-colored eyes. He knew that she was still angry at him for the bitter words he'd left her with, but he also knew that he wouldn't dare let it show, not at a time like this.
"We're doing this tonight," he said, "at sundown."
She shook her head. "We can do it in the morning-that way, he can't follow. It'll give me time to find other people, bring them back to help."
"You won't find anyone. Or have you forgotten that you don't have a wand, Granger? Do you plan on asking a muggle camper for a ride?" Draco snorted. He rolled his eyes. "We're doing it when the sun goes down. When he wakes up, it won't take him long to break my barriers down-he'll find out what I'm hiding eventually. And we don't know how he thinks. He might want tonight to be the night. Morning may be too late for you."
"Draco." Hermione opened and closed her mouth, as if stopping herself from repeating the name. "What are you planning to do?"
"Draw him to me."
Draco lifted one arm off of the porcelain tub, reaching for the soap pan on the stand beside him. He lifted it; a slender nail was sitting beneath. He picked it up, rolling it between two fingers. He dipped its pointed end into the water, letting it soak up the heat. He pulled it back out of the water and hung his left hand over the steamy surface. He squeezed his hand into a fist, watching the vein lift, blue and anxious beneath his pale skin. He pushed the nail's sharp edge into the skin, wincing at the sudden pain. It hurt more than he expected.
Hermione looked away, holding to her hands. When they would find no comfortable shape, she crossed her arms, tucking her fingers away.
"Water," she said, softly. "It will disperse better in water. Make it hot. He'll smell it," she continued, her cheeks flushed in shame at her own suggestion, "smell it better if it's warmer, I'd suspect. And it'll be more likely."
Draco nodded in agreement. "It'll look more like a suicide-he won't expect that there's a trap inside my blood."
Hermione shook her head. One hand lifted to cover her face. "You idiot!" she snapped beneath her hand. "This is the stupidest plan I've ever heard." She looked up at him with sudden anger in her nervous gaze. "I hate you for making me go along with this."
"I hate you, too," Draco sneered. He lost the expression halfway through. "Good luck."
Hermione nodded and turned, disappearing out the door without another word.
Draco watched the blood pearl to the surface and drip down into the water, becoming a cloud of red beneath his reflection. It was almost pretty, the way it fanned out into a pink phantom the further it swam. He pulled the nail out and three more drops rolled down into the water. He let his hand drop.
The wound would never be enough to kill him, especially with the double dose of blood drought he'd swallowed with his morning porridge. But it didn't need to be. He slid down into the water, only the top of his knees and his face sticking out. The water filled his ears: he could hear himself think. He could hear the thoughts he was forcing himself to project, all for Darien's benefit.
I won't let you kill me-and I won't kill Granger either. You can't make me into a monster, not if I'm already dead...
Draco's body shook as he felt a surge of panic that was not his own flow through his mind.
Darien's voice flooded against him: Dragon! I command you to stop this! Draco knew, instinctively, that Darien was pushing himself to wake. Draco, please, not when we're so close to the end.
Draco took the thought as a signal, pushing the nail against his skin while his limbs floated beneath the water. It barely pierced him again, but the mental image he associated with it was far more dramatic than reality. Draco envisioned a long carpenter's nail gouging into his skin, the blood squirting out of the gorge like an octopus's fountain of ink blurring the ocean depths.
Darien saw the image. He was moving quickly, his feet barely touching the human path up to the second floor. Draco slipped beneath the water's surface before the vampire threw open the door. In an instant, Darien was peering down at the tub, taking in the metallic perfume that lifted off the water like a living mist. His hands, stony in their sudden strength, reached down, lifting Draco out of the water. Draco didn't have time to let his mind go, to let the truth slip out of this thoughts-the temptation had been too much for Darien. His fangs slid into the holes he'd left less than twenty-four hours ago.
He drank deep, pulling Draco to the tiled floor with him as he collapsed in ecstasy. Draco's eyes rolled back at the sudden sensation. Before his survival instinct could kick in, Draco felt himself being released. He fell back against the side of the porcelain tub, throwing one hand over the edge to hold himself up.
His vision blurred for a split second before new blood began to course through his veins. A few droplets trickled down the forgotten wound at his neck. The blood drought. It was still taking affect. Draco blinked in surprise as the realization hit him.
Darien, however, was not paying attention to Draco's thoughts, only the suddenly tension pulling at his muscles, tightening his body. "What!" he cried. A sudden pain moved deep inside him. It was an ache he had never felt before, and he knew at once that it was not natural. His eyes, more black than crimson, glared at Draco.
"What have you done to me?" he hissed. The vampire writhed as a new sensation rolled through his stomach. He pushed himself up, using the wall closest to him for support.
Draco didn't dare move. He stared up at the vampire with glassy eyes. How does it feel, to not be in control of your body?
Darien opened his mouth to speak the answer when the bathroom door flew open.The vampire was standing up before Draco could even register that someone else had entered the small room.
Draco's eyes widened in horror as he watched Darien collapse to the floor again, Hermione now pinned him, her head rolled back, frozen gaze on Draco's wet form. Draco slid across the floor, using all of his strength to throw himself against the vampire's side. Darien's fangs ripped loose from the witch's shoulder, and he rolled off of her.
Darien lay on his back, his hands down beside him, fingers curled to claw at the tile beneath him. His body arched once more in resistance but grew still as the Mooncalf finally went to work, forcing paralysis to overcome his undead body.
Watch her wither, Dragon. The price...
Darien's thoughts dropped away as he drifted into a deep sleep. But Draco knew what it was he wanted to say. The price of betrayal. That was the way the vampire viewed his violent storm.
A wet sound bubbled up from somewhere below. Draco's eyes drifted down. They found Hermione, eyes half lidded. Blood spilled out of the gaping hole on her shoulder, where the flesh had been ripped down in two long, ragged, parallel marks. The crimson seemed to boil up, like a potion put on to brew.
Draco could feel his own heart in his hands, beating steady, making his fingers shake. He reached out to cup the witch's injury. Bent over her, he could see the skin at her collar, purple and red beneath. Darien had broken something inside her when he landed. Draco remembered when the vampire had bent over him-he could have crushed him with just a shift of his weight. And he had fallen on her, full of purpose.
She was broken.
Draco's hands shook more furiously. Her half-open eyes were glued to him. He couldn't stand that look, fear and pity, so like his mother's constant gaze.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Granger?" he said, his voice cracking as he pushed down on her shoulder. The blood was rolling off of her collar, pooling beneath her slender frame. He could feel it, warm between his fingers. "Shit, Granger. We agreed."
He knew exactly why she was there.
"You didn't have to die alone..."
That's what she had said. He had known it then that, as much as he pushed her, she was not planning to go. Stuck in her Gryffindor mindset, fools as they are, she was planning all along to stay behind, come in just in time to save him from Darien's wrath. Wandless, defenseless, she'd come nevertheless.
Why didn't I make you leave?
Draco stared at her with cold eyes, hateful gray eyes. He had made her a secret promise. He was about to break that promise.
He scrambled onto his knees, slipping an arm into the water. His fingers searched frantically until they found the small nail at the bottom of the tub. He pulled it out and reached over Hermione's limp form. He grabbed hold of Darien's arm. The flesh was as hard as rock beneath the wizard's quaking fingertips. Draco pulled the vampire closer, until his arm was hanging above Hermione.
He pushed with all his might, forcing the nail into that hard, dead flesh. When it pierced the skin, he pulled it down, ripping open the length of the stiff wrist. The blood rose to surface, as if the creature it came from was living, but Draco knew that the blood was his own, as well as Hermione's. He hoped that enough of it was hers.
Draco dropped the wrist over her still lips and pinched her cheeks until her mouth was wide. He held Darien's wrist against her.
It's too late-I waited too long. She's gone.
Her eyes flickered open and her small hands took the vampire's arm from the wizard, holding it tight against her lips. A sick, wet sound came from her mouth as she suckled away. A soft moan escaped her, and she pushed the wrist from her, letting Darien's limb fall awkwardly beside her torn shoulder.
I promised not to kill you.
She opened her mouth wide. Subtle and sharp, her fangs were stained with her maker's blood. She grabbed hold of Draco's arm, pulling herself up. He put a hand on her elbow to help her.
"Draco," she breathed. Her eyes were still half-lidded, now due to some unnatural need.
"I broke my promise," he said, staring at her. She wasn't as pale as he'd thought she would be. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought she was still alive. "Hermione?"
She put a hand against his cheek. Ice on fire, she met his expectations there. He leaned into her palm against his own will, and she slipped a lusty kiss over his open bite marks, licking the mess that had spilled down his neck. Her teeth slipped into him, Her first victim. Her first.
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