Roses are red

Violets are blue

I don't own Harry Potter

This is sad, but true

Thanks and love to my alpha/beta ravenclaw-sass who honestly deserves a medal for putting up with my needy self! xx

Written for the Dramione Fanfiction Writer's Halloween Trope Fest 2018 with the trope "vampire."

This is a stand-alone piece, but I have plans to continue it eventually :)

Draco Malfoy opened the clipboard as he strolled down the narrow corridor, his lips quirking into a small smile. Another half an hour and it would be time to go home for the weekend. He was not the type to have made grand plans, despite having been invited to a few barbeques by some of his colleagues, but he was looking forward to the time off nonetheless. Only one last donor remained at the end of the hallway, patiently waiting for him to call them for their appointment - a woman by the name of...

Draco stopped, his polished black dress shoes squeaking as he reached the end of the linoleum. The clipboard was balanced in the palm of his left hand as he used his right index finger to underline the name of his next charge.

"It can't be," he whispered to himself.

His eyes snapped up and scanned the waiting area. It did not take long for him to find the object of his surprise; given the late hour, there was only one person left sitting on the uncomfortable red chairs, and she just happened to be the last person he would have expected to ever walk through the doors of his blood donation centre.

She was looking down at her lap, a bluish light projecting from her thighs into her face; a Muggle mobile phone, Draco noted. Using her thumb, she scrolled idly, passively, as most donors were wont to do as they waited.

It's probably not her, Draco told himself. What would she be doing here, in Australia, of all places?

Steeling himself, he cleared his throat and called softly into the nearly-empty waiting area. "Hermione Granger."

Her head snapped up and in the second it took for her to lock eyes with him, Draco's heart sank; it was her. Bushy hair, wide brown eyes, and a slight slouch - something he had attributed to the size of her book bag back at Hogwarts. As she stood, Draco swallowed. A lot of things about the Gryffindor know-it-all had remained the same, but had she always looked so...?

Stop it! He chastised himself. You've got a job to do. Be professional.

He cleared his throat again. "If you'll follow me, we just need to go over your admission form before we can take your blood." He tried to smile...and failed.

Turning quickly on the spot, he did not wait for a reply. He heard her hurried footsteps behind him and swallowed the feeling of disappointment; he had hoped she would turn and run when she recognised him.

He reached the door to his office and swiftly unlocked it, holding it open so Granger could slip past him. She mumbled her thanks as her handbag grazed his chest, and her scent hit him - floral and summery, reminding him of lazy evenings spent in the grounds of the Manor…

Ugh! Draco was positively scowling as he clipped the door shut and took his seat on the opposite side of the desk. He tugged at his tie, the navy blue material feeling as though it might strangle him if he did not loosen it, and then settled his long, pale fingers over the keyboard.

Unfortunately for him, Granger seemed to have regained some of her Gryffindor courage on the walk to his office, and opened her mouth a split second before he did. "So it is you," she said matter-of-factly. "I wasn't sure when you entered the waiting room, but now -"

"What is your full name?" he asked loudly, his eyes determinedly glued to the computer screen.

A pause, and then, "Hermione Jean Granger. But you already knew that."

Draco froze; he didn't need to look at her to know that her face was contorted in a haughty, albeit intrigued expression. Bloody know-it-all swot.

Deciding that he would ignore her, he clenched his teeth together and spoke through them, "Date of birth?"

Granger huffed, but answered, "September nineteenth, nineteen-seventy-nine."

"Thank you."

He clicked away on the keypad, torn between wanting to prolong the documenting of her basic information so he would not have to look at her, and wanting the whole procedure to be over immediately.

Clearing his mind as he had been instructed to do as a teenager, Draco decided that it was probably best to just get the whole thing over with, which meant remaining aloof and ignoring all of Granger's attempts to engage him in conversation. It really was a win-win situation; he would get through this in one piece, and ignoring her would definitely annoy the bint to no end.

Fighting a smirk, he cleared his throat and prepared to begin the scripted preamble he was expected to recite at the beginning of each admission. Of course, he didn't strictly need to introduce himself, but it was protocol, and he had absolutely no desire to acknowledge that he and the ex-Gryffindor witch had ever laid eyes on each other before this moment.

"My name," he said, busying himself with the blood pressure machine, "is Draco and -"

"Seriously?" she snapped, cutting him off. "I know your name, Malfoy." She stressed the syllables and he bristled; it may not command the same level of respect as it once had, but he was proud of his name, damn it. "We went to school together for six years for Merlin's sake; don't tell me you forgot?" Her voice had taken on a false sense of innocence as she smirked at him. "Surely you remember the time I broke your nose, in third -"

"I remember," he ground out, willing his cheeks to remain their normal, pale complexion; the last thing he needed was Hermione bloody Granger witnessing his embarrassment, especially for something that happened so long ago. He had thought that he would be able to ruffle the witch a little while doing his damn job, but Granger seemed to have effortlessly turned the tables.

Focus! He chastised himself. Just get on with it.

"As I was saying -" he cleared his throat "- I will be your phlebotomist this evening. Have you -" he gestured for her arm and she begrudgingly offered it to him, letting it fall heavily into his palm "- felt well in the past week? No tummy troubles, flu-like symptoms...?"

"No," she said, her gaze boring into the side of his face as he concentrated on the inflating band now wrapped around her upper arm. "In fact, I've been feeling perfectly healthy until about five minutes ago."

He shot her a quelling look and opened his mouth to retort, but was stopped by the machine beeping. Grateful for the timely interruption, Draco flicked his narrowed eyes over the small screen and jotted down Granger's blood pressure - a perfect score of 120/80.

Of course, he thought bitterly. She even gets top marks in sodding medical examinations.

He pursed his lips as he slipped the cuff from her arm, determined to avoid eye contact. He could feel her watching his every move, and he had to actively work to control the shaking in his hands.

"Your finger, please." He reached towards her, palm up as he prepared the monitor which would test her blood clotting factor.

Obediently, Granger placed her right hand delicately in his. He took her ring finger and twisted it so the soft pad was facing up towards him. Usually, he would talk through this part to ease the stinging sensation of the needle, but he wasn't about to invite a conversation, not when the brunette had finally shut up.

Granger did not flinch as the small implement pierced her skin, nor when he squeezed the surrounding skin, forcing the tiny drop of blood to the surface. With practiced finesse, he swiped the droplet onto a strip and placed the strip into the machine; he held his breath the whole time, but she made no indication that she noticed this.

"Good." Draco nodded as the machine beeped, signalling that Granger wasn't about to bleed out in his ward.

Silently, he indicated that she should sign the paperwork he thrust towards her. She did so, using the pen he handed her.

"Done," she muttered, interrupting his musings by placing the pen on the table. Caught off guard, his gaze shifted automatically to hers.

Damn it.

She was looking at him with her arms folded, her brown eyes boring into his own as if she could see straight into his soul - as if he was a puzzle she merely needed to put back together. Draco did not like feeling so exposed, especially in front of the Golden Girl.

"This way." He rose suddenly from his chair and turned away from her, promising himself he would not look at her, nor remain near her any longer than strictly necessary.

An indignant huff sounded from behind him as he made his way down the hallway, away from the waiting room this time; he barely concealed a smirk as they entered the empty ward.

"Have a seat." He gestured towards the grey, pleather chair and began preparing the station.

"So," she said as the chair adjusted, moving so that she was in a more relaxed, laid-back position, "I wasn't expecting to see you when I made my appointment."

Draco internally groaned; it was clear that she was not about to give up on sparking a conversation. He bit his lip as he tapped the armrest to indicate that she should give him her arm. He used an alcohol-soaked swab to clean the area on the inside of her elbow, and was about to embed the needle before he responded, albeit reluctantly.

"When I was organising my last donation for the day, I wasn't exactly expecting to see you either, Granger. Little sting." He added the last part, a habit, in a soft voice as the needle pierced her skin and settled in her arm. Working quickly, he took the tape he had rested on his other hand and placed it over the needle. "Here." He handed her a round, red stress ball with the words AUSTRALIAN RED CROSS BLOOD SERVICE written across it in white block font. "Squeeze."

Granger did as she was told, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief when he could step back, ensuring the machine was operating properly. He excused himself quickly and then made his way to the opposite end of the ward, folding and refolding the blankets at each of the stations. All he had to do was remain here for the next fifteen minutes, and then usher Granger out into the post-donation eating area, and he would survive this, the most awkward moment in his life.

He stiffened as a continuous beeping noise sounded behind him, his hands stilling over the half-folded piece of linen.

"Malfoy?"

Shit. He ground his teeth together, but acknowledged her without turning around.

"Um, I think something is wrong with the machine?"

Double shit. "What?" He strode back towards her and checked; no, the machine was working fine...it was Granger who wasn't. "Squeeze," he demanded, nodding down to her fist which held the stress ball.

She did as she was told and the machine hummed happily back into life as the red blood trickled from Granger's vein towards the collection bag. Draco held his breath, a common practice for him on the ward.

"How much water did you drink before you came?" he asked.

"A couple of glasses," Granger answered. "But I'm notorious for having slow-moving blood."

Draco suppressed the urge to shout at her. "Well, just keep squeezing."

It wasn't uncommon, he knew that. He'd had plenty of donors who required all sorts of intervention to get the blood from their arm into the bag, but he often made excuses as to why he had to pass them over to another nurse; this evening, he was the only one left - typical.

He turned to go back to his folding, but he had barely taken two steps when the machine beeped again. Draco sighed, pivoting on his heel and making his way back to Granger. She was, at least, wearing a rather apologetic expression; he also noticed that her cheeks were rather pink, but he could not explain why this set his heart racing.

"Squeeze," he repeated, his voice firm. "Let me just elevate your arm a bit...there." He licked his lips as he carefully shifted her; sometimes gravity would help in this situation.

Beep beep!

"For fuck's sake," he muttered under his breath. Granger opened her mouth, no doubt to lecture him on his bedside manner, but he didn't let her begin. "I'll be right back."

He stalked towards the nurses offices which were connected to the ward, and collected a heat pack. When he returned, the machine was pumping away as normal, but he wasn't about to take chances; he just wanted her to leave. Without a word, he placed the heat pack underneath her arm.

"Thanks," she murmured.

Draco scratched his jaw, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands; he'd not so much as said hello to Granger, ever, in the entire time he had known her, and now he was waiting on her like a House Elf. His head spun, and he almost giggled at the idea of the nurse fainting during the blood donation of a client.

I should probably sit down, he reasoned.

The silence stretched between them as he pulled up a stool and settled down upon it, keeping himself a safe distance from Granger's arm, but still near enough to adjust the line if required.

"This is weird," she blurted out suddenly.

"It is," he agreed, before he could stop himself.

"What are you doing in Australia?"

Draco sighed; it appeared that the real Granger had arrived - the one who asked pressing questions, and who would poke and prod before you answered them. "I'm working," he said snippily. "What are you doing here?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, her grip on the stress ball tightening and relaxing in time to the pumping of the machine. "My parents are here."

"Oh."

More silence. Draco couldn't decide what he preferred - the awkward silences, or the conversation. The whole thing left him feeling like he needed to take a shower; not because he thought Granger was beneath him, though. He'd left his prejudice somewhere in the walls of Hogwarts after his sixth year, when he had been but a puppet in Voldemort's gruesome theatre. No, it was simply one of those situations that left you feeling as though you needed to take a soapy loofa to the memory centre of your brain.

"You became a phlebotomist?" Her voice dragged him from his acute chagrin.

"Evidently."

Granger seemed to get the hint then, and turned her head so that she was staring up at the ceiling. She chewed her lip thoughtfully and Draco couldn't help himself; he watched her features twist and contort as if she was warring internally, and almost jumped when she snapped her head back to face him again.

"How long have you been here?"

"Since the end." He didn't need to specify the end of what; her eyes darkened with understanding and he averted his gaze. There was an intensity in her expression which he remembered from as early as their first year, but it was different looking at her now. They had never been friends, had fought on opposite sides of the war, and now he was...well, not exactly the same as he had once been, that was for sure.

"Me too," she said quietly. "But in Sydney; I moved to Perth a couple of months ago."

"Why?" The question left his mouth before he could stop it, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he wished he could take it back; he didn't want to engage…did he?

Granger turned away once more, but this time Draco got the distinct impression that it wasn't because he'd ticked her off. "I Obliviated my parents and sent them to Sydney." She spoke so matter-of-factly, it took a few seconds for Draco to register her words. "They still believe they are the Wilkins, childless dentists who fulfilled their life-long dream of moving to Australia, and are entirely happy with their lot. I came out here with the intention of reversing the memory charm, but after several years, too many expert opinions to count, and the weight of the entire Ministry of Magic, it became apparent that what I did cannot be undone."

"Shit," Draco breathed, his eyes wide. He wanted to say something else, or perhaps lean forward and place his hand on hers in a show of support, but it didn't seem right.

"I moved to Perth because there's nothing left for me in Sydney, but I can't bring myself to leave Australia just yet."

Draco was unsure what to say to that. He had expected more small talk, a few monosyllabic exchanges before they would fall back into an uneasy silence. Granger unleashing her tear-jerker of a life story was definitely not something he had been prepared for, and now he was torn between feeling a deep sorrow for the witch, and annoyance.

"Sorry." She laughed a breathy laugh and turned back to face him; he noted that her cheeks were surprisingly dry, though her eyes had taken on a glassy quality. "I didn't mean to just dump that all on you. I haven't exactly had time to make friends yet, and, well...you are sort of a familiar face."

He returned her small smile reluctantly; his face may have been familiar, but surely it shouldn't have been a comfort to Hermione Granger.

They sat in silence for the remainder of the time, the blood bag slowly filling and the machine huffing through its pumps. Draco thought about all that had transpired in the last few years and internally groaned as the weight of it all settled on his chest. It was normal for him to feel slightly drained on a Friday, but this bone-tiredness was an entirely new sensation. He would have to take precautions tonight.

He jumped when the machine beeped again, this time to alert him to the fullness of the bag.

"All done, Granger," he said, turning it off. He stood, stretched, and then set to work removing the needle from her arm. "Pressure," he murmured, holding a piece of cotton wool to the small hole in Granger's arm.

She dutifully replaced his fingers with her own and pressed down to stem the bleeding. "Thanks."

He turned his attention to the blood bag, a sort of serenity cloaking him as he realised that within half an hour he would be on his way home.

Perhaps it was this happy thought, paired with the weariness that had threatened to consume him, that made him drop the blood bag.

The silky plastic slipped through his fingers and his brain was too slow to even attempt to fumble it; it simply fell, spinning a few times before hitting the tiled floor with a wet squelch! Granger gasped, and scrambled from the chair, though what she hoped to achieve now, he was unsure.

Draco began to move to Granger first, his training taking precedence over everything else for the briefest of seconds; he opened his mouth to tell her to get back on the chair - he'd had far too many fainters - but as he inhaled to voice his concerns, the smell of the blood as it ran in all directions beneath his feet hit him full force.

His pupils dilated and he froze as his gaze locked hungrily on Granger's face; her expression changing erratically from confusion, to understanding, to fear - he liked that the least. Baring his teeth, he felt the points of his canines lengthen and cushion themselves on his lower lip, and his mouth filled with saliva; why had he thought it would be okay to go an extra day without feeding?

His more human side, now incredibly weak and almost buried beneath the feral beast in his mind, was able to utter one last piece of advice to Granger before everything went black, "Run."

When he came to, Draco was sitting in a dark and dingy alleyway which smelled like an unappetising combination of raw seafood and dog biscuits. Clutching his head, he took stock of his surroundings, squinting through the dim light. A dumpster stood to his left, green and rusted, and overflowing with black garbage bags from which the smell clearly originated.

He wrinkled his nose and shifted; his arse was slightly numb from sitting on an upturned milk crate, and he was sure if he was to pants himself right here, there would be the criss-cross indentations across his pale derriere.

"Malfoy?"

He staggered forward as he rose from his crouched position, his right hand locating his wand and drawing it in front of him before he had time to think. "Who's there?"

"It's me." The figure moved towards him with her palms raised and facing forwards in a sign of surrender. "You might want to put that away, lest a Muggle stumble upon us."

"Granger." He sneered; this was not what he needed, though he did shove his wand back into his pocket. "What are you doing here?"

"I was concerned after I left the centre," she said, her hands still raised. "You're a vampire." There was a slight inflection on the last syllable, but Draco knew it wasn't a question.

He did not reply, lifting his chin in a defiant manner.

Granger sighed. "You're covered in blood; my blood." She stepped forward, lowering her hands so she could point to the front of him. "And you've got some on your chin."

She was close enough to smell now, but Draco had regained control - despite feeling as though he had just had a very eventful night at the pub and woken without a hangover potion in store - and he ceased breathing at once.

He didn't want to, but he couldn't help but glance down the front of himself. Fuck. Granger was right - his button down shirt held the evidence of his condition, and though he managed to stop himself from wiping the back of his wrist across his chin, he was sure that she was telling the truth about that as well.

"You work at a blood donation centre," Granger pressed, canting her head. "Why?"

"As much as I'd love to discuss the most intimate parts of my life with a complete stranger," he said coldly, "I really must go and attend to this mess." He gestured up and down the length of his body, a frown settling on his face. "If you'll excuse me."

"Malfoy!" Granger grabbed a hold of the sleeve of his shirt as he made to move passed her; he warred with the instinct to rip it from her grasp, but in the end something in her tone stopped him. "I still work for the British Ministry of Magic," she said, her voice hushed; was she worried about being overheard, or was she worried he'd attack her if she made a loud noise? "I can help you."

"Help?" he scoffed, wrenching his arm from her and taking two steps backwards. "I don't know what your definition of help is, Granger, but I can assure you the twats at the Ministry couldn't give two shits about my kind."

"That's not true!"

"Like hell it isn't!" he roared, throwing his arms wide. He was aware of how crazed he must have looked in that moment, but he couldn't bring himself to care much. "I was turned before I was eighteen, and there was no where to get help; please don't go and kill anyone - magical or not - but also, your thirst blood will literally take over you and no, there aren't any services you can access to help you through the need to feed." Granger chuckled and Draco swore colourfully under his breath. "If you're going to mock me -"

"No!" Granger quickly schooled her features and returned to her surrender-stance. "No, that's not why I laughed. That saying just reminded me of a Muggle movie - Need for Speed. Sorry. I just...this isn't what I expected when I made the appointment."

He shot her a scathing look. "This isn't exactly what I signed up for either, Granger."

"Well -" she huffed "- I do want to help."

"I don't need your help." He folded his arms across his chest. "I work as a phlebotomist at the blood donation centre here because I started an initiative years ago. I collect blood which is then distributed to vampires in the area; there are others like me, all across Australia, which means we are safe to humans. When I approached the Ministry about such a program in Britain they laughed at me; they were too concerned with the war clean-up to care about a bunch of blood suckers who may or may not pose a threat to their society."

"That's unfair."

"Is it?" He sneered.

"Yes." She folded her arms across her chest in a defiant and all-knowing stance. "I work for the Being Division in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and I'd be happy to speak on your behalf."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, his other hand coming to rest on his hip. A headache was blossoming behind his eyes and he squeezed them shut; why doesn't she just leave me alone? He swallowed the torrent of frustration he longed to release - Granger was annoying, he'd always known that, but she didn't deserve the wrath of a jaded immortal...well, not all of it, at least.

"Why? I don't want to go back to England; my venture is successful here." He opened his eyes and refocused on her face, his vision slightly blurred. She opened her mouth but then seemed to think better of it; Draco quirked an eyebrow and fought a smirk as her teeth sank into her lower lip.

Granger shrugged. "I don't know you very well -"

"No, you don't," he agreed.

"- but -" she frowned at his interruption "- I'd think that maybe you'd like to see your family and friends again; when was the last time you saw your moth-"

"No." He cut her off, the heat in his gaze palpable behind his eyeballs; Granger recoiled instantly, her mouth snapping shut. "I don't." He wasn't shouting, but the anger lacing each word seemed to get the message across - finally - to Granger.

"O-okay," she stammered. "I just thought -"

"They think I'm dead," he said, a new feeling of sick pleasure coursing through his veins and making him feel almost giddy; suddenly, he wanted her to know the whole sad story, if only to witness the horror in her expression.

"What?"

"Lucius and Narcissa think I'm dead. There was a funeral and everything."

"Why?"

"Why?" he repeated through gritted teeth; she seemed suitably horrified, her eyebrows having disappeared underneath her bushy fringe, but ever the insufferable know-it-all, Draco should have anticipated the third degree. "Because I'm a monster! You don't understand what it would do to my mother if she knew!"

"But -"

"No!" he roared, the fire in his chest exploding as if Granger's last word had been gasoline. "I don't need your help, and I certainly don't want to return to England!" He began to breathe again, a habit of his when he became frazzled, his chest heaving as he stalked towards her.

He came to a stop in front of her and pasted a threatening grin on his face, his eyes unblinking. "It was so nice to see you, Granger. Let's never do it again, shall we?"

A savage thrill of pleasure zinged up his spine as he recognised the mixture of fear and annoyance in her brown orbs which reflected his own angry expression underneath the lone street lamp. Certain that she had finally received the message, loud and clear, Draco turned with the intention of Apparating directly back to his flat, but her voice brought him back.

"Malfoy?" She licked her lips and brought her hands in front of her, clasping them together in a picture of innocence.

"What?" he ground out, against his better judgment.

"I understand that it's scary," she stated. "It's a risk to go back, not knowing how your parents may react to...your condition. But take it from someone whose parents no longer remember who they are - will never remember who they are…" She paused for a moment, swallowing thickly as she met his gaze. "If there was a way that I could change that, I'd give anything to see that recognition in their faces again. Your parents will live longer than mine -" she offered him a half-hearted shrug, her eyes glassy "- but they won't live forever. Don't wait until it's too late to prevent future regret."

With that, she turned on her heel, not bothering to wait for his response, though Draco wasn't sure he would have been able to formulate one in that moment. Before he had registered that she had wandered away, he was completely alone in the alleyway. His hands curled into fists and his back teeth ground together as he fought the urge to scream into the emptiness left behind.

What does she know? He thought bitterly as he forced his legs to carry him in the opposite direction, towards the busy street in front of the blood donation centre. She isn't going to have to watch every single one of her loved ones die with the prospect of never joining them…

But as he twisted on the spot and Apparated away, he couldn't help but allow Granger's words to replay over and over in his mind…"Don't wait until it's too late to prevent future regret."