ONE

Hermione woke up with a gasp, her chest heaving. It was a dream. The same dream over and over and over again, she wondered as to why. She looked back at her clock.

'Exactly 3 am. Bloody perfect.'

She wondered as to how she could wake up like that. From her last dream, she had woken up at exactly 2 am, and the last one at exactly 1. A cycle, was it? She had wondered if she was secretly cursed-'nah', she thought. Beads of cold sweat were still dripping from her forehead. Tonight's dream was metaphorically, hell. All the macabre, horror, darkness, pain-supernaturalism...passion. She had never felt so wanted in her life. She felt stupid though, falling in love with her own fictional character.

She bit her lip as her head started to throb. That scene of heated romance replayed in her head. She tried to fight the urge to fall asleep once again and re-live the dream once more. She had loved it. Her heart was beating fast- a fire was burning inside of her.

It had only dawned on her now that she already knew him...

"Harry." She whispered.

...and had helplessly, immortally fallen in love with him. She closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the events in the dream. She fled with him-she had sworn herself to sin for him.

But it was all merely a dream. A fantasy. A fictional story authored by the subconscious mind. A nightmare. It couldnt be real.

She stood up from her bed, wrapping her silk bathrobe around her tightly. Her flat was quiet, as usual. Her beloved feline Crookshanks was sleeping soundly by the fireplace. Grasping the switch, she flicked it open. The lights flickered on and off, leaving Hermione afraid. She closed it again, leaving her back into the pitch-black darkness of her flat. With a deep breath, she clicked the lights open once more.

It stayed there.

The flickering was gone.

"Weird." She whispered as walked passed the coffee table and by her bookshelf. She browsed slowly through her collection, until she laid her hands on a hardbound book, which seemed to be soaked in wine.

"Where did this come from?" She had asked herself. Crookshanks had already wakened and snuggled himself by her feet. Hermione bent down slightly and tickled the back of his ears. Going back on the book, she pulled it out from the rest and dragged it along with her on the couch. Crookshanks followed, quietly laying next to her-curious as well. She opened the soaked pages-only wrinkling her eyebrows in confusion.

It had dried up.

"Well, that's quite odd now, isn't it Crookshanks?" she had asked her feline friend. He merely nodded in agreement. She browsed through the stained pages, wondering on as to why they would waste such a big amount of paper to publish a mere sentence repeated over and over again. It was typed right in the middle of each page containing the same phrase.

"Clearly, those who published this were either pseudo-intellectual environmentalists or just plain prats. Such a waste, really-don't you think, Crookshanks?" She asked again. Crookshanks had not replied, which caused Hermione to roll her eyes in amusement.

"It is clear, though, that I am boring you." She had said-she knew that she was just making the best of this situation. She was terrified, really. The memory of her dream still haunts her. The strong aroma of stale wine had circulated in her flat, and she couldn't help but feel light headed. At the 66th page of the book, she had stopped.

A word had changed from the phrase.

"That's definitely odd." She had whispered to herself.

All you really need is love and happiness, for you to survive through this whirlwind called life.

Was what was said at the first beginning pages. But then, Hermione had noticed that some words have faded.

All you need for you to survive is life.

Hermione considered the fact that this may be some surprise gift given by her aunt. Yes, she had remembered the last time her aunt had given her a book-she was a minimalist type of person-thus explaining the book that had a mere dot on each page. She said it was art-Hermione said it was 'unique', although she had another word in mind.

She wrinkled her eyebrows once again. The phrase didn't make any sense at all. How does one survive if he or she doesn't have a hold on life? '...to survive IS life.' She thought. 'the book is implying that I am lifeless? How could one live or survive without life? That's just completely idiotic.' she argued to herself. 'Whoever wrote this book must have his facts straight...' She turned the page once more, only finding a single word written in the middle.

Hermione gasped.

Run.

Hermione shut the book quickly and threw it onto the floor. Im just hallucinating, she thought. It was merely just a phrase...what could it do to her? She jumped as she heard her cup smash just behind her. Looking back, she screamed in terror as she saw something so gruesome and horrific. Her heart rate was quickening as she ran quickly into her room and shut it tight.

Pinned by glass and lifeless on the wall was Crookshanks, smothered in his own innocent blood. Hermione was rocking back and forth on her bed, sobbing hysterically. How could she have not seen anything? How could she have not watched over her beloved pet?

Who would do such a thing?

She asked herself over and over again. She had been so caught up in the book that she hadnt noticed her pet dying helplessly behind her.

But then she stopped.

Who could've murdered Crookshanks if she was all alone in her flat? Hermione's blood went cold. She did not want to dwell on that-no, not now. Was she being haunted?

No, She didnt want to think about that. Not at a situation like this.

She folded the blanket over her head and shut her eyes tight. She was afraid to sleep-she feared of seeing him again. Every situation was not safe-awake or not.

She dismissed all fears and slowly drifted off to sleep, having in mind that she was now completely alone.

Emerald eyes twinkled in the midst of the darkness in her bedroom, and a lonesome smile was being formed. He made sure to leave a message before he left through the open windows. Looking back, he looked in remorse at the glowing red letters he had left for her to read.

"Break me, Hermione. I need you." He said as he flew into the night sky-red glowing letters gave out their effervescence, stating a simple 'Im Sorry.'

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Harry walked into his dark flat, running a hand through his hair. He didn't quite know why he was doing this-night was starting to drift away and morning was staring to fade into the earth. Blood was smeared onto his hands as it started to dry up. His face was filled with guilt.

He blamed his dead father.

Yes, he dare disrespect him. He made him like that, after all- cursing him into something he truly despises. He had no choice but to roam free every night and cause nothing but misery and pain to other people.

Damn him, he thought.

His father was a vampire who had married a mere mortal-his mother, Lily. James was known as Hanzib Flanders by night, roaming the allies and feeding on innocent blood. He takes riches from those that roam alone in the streets, and greedily feeds on them to protect himself. Lily had known about this ever since she had met him. She learned to accept him--to try to understand him and his way of life. She had warned him dozens of times to stay away from trouble and just stray from the others.

He was an idiotic father.

He dared not to listen, leaving Harry and his mother alone at night-wondering on as to how many lives he would be taking. Lily was thankful that Harry had not inherited James' curse, though. He was mortal, just like her.

Until James had gone beyond his limitations. Marvolo Riddle, the god of the night, had requested all first borns of all vampires be brought to him for his blessing. James, being the obedient servant he was, brought his son willingly. He had known how the blessing rituals go.

A blade, with a skull encrusted upon it, is pierced through the wrist of the child. Here then will they become immortal and live life through the night as vampires and as mere mortals by day.

But upon this is a prophecy. Those who wish to escape from this curse must take the life of the one they truly love for their own sake. James had not even wished to do this for he was happy-he was happy the way he was. Coming home to Lily that night, he had shown a pale infant in front of her. She had gone hysterical and sobbed through the night.

James had felt himself die that day.

Midnight struck that night and he had decided. He had sipped from her neck, having him turn mortal once again. He grabbed the knife from his drawer and cut through himself, lying beside his wife. How could he be so selfish? So deluded?

Harry looked down at his wrist, staring heatedly at the mark on it. It was there forever, and he had nothing to do but to accept it. He closed his eyes as he remembered Hermione-he loved her.

He did. Those dreams were real to him. He was there.

She had been with him through his childhood. After people had found him alone on his crib the next day, he was taken to the Weasleys immediately, where he met Hermione-a daughter of some of the close friends of Molly and Arthur Weasley.

He remembered the first time he had laid eyes on her. Her brown, curly hair that cascaded down her shoulders was tied up in a red bow. She was wearing a red frilly dress with small, pearl earrings to match. They had immediately become friends that day, swearing that they would never part.

Until then did Molly Weasley find out about his true identity and had thrown him away at 16. The Grangers were shocked and had forbid Hermione to see him ever again. Ronald Weasley, who was Harry's other best friend then, had detested upon this and had fled with him as well.

Harry looked up from his hands and saw Ron holding another cup of coffee. His hair was disheveled and his freckles were clearly shown. He was wrapped in his robes and was wearing his signature slippers.

"Am I safe now? The sunrise was finished an hour ago." He teased as he sat beside him. Harry had wondered though, as to why Ron had to even side with him that day. He could've had a better life than this.

"Yes.." He said, slowly looking to the ground. Ron knew exactly why, and yet he need not ponder on it now. He just might make the situation worse.

"How was she?" He asked.

"Entrancing." He stated simply.

"How many today...?"

"One." Harry said with so much regret. It had dawned on him that if he couldn't muster the will to take her life away, he would stay like this forever. Young, evil and hopeless--his mother wished the exact opposite. How he considered himself as his own adversary-he loathed himself to his very core. Stentorophonic voices in his mind badgered him with multiple, logical questions which he ironically couldn't answer. He tried to decipher the whole meaning of his life-why was he doing this? Why were they doing this? As subfusc as the issue may be, he still wonders on as to why he still exists here on earth. He was fine before, that was then when he was eternally desiccated when night struck. He considered himself a chance-child by night--a sick, deluded maniac.

"Do you love her?" Ron had interrupted his heated argument in his mind.

"...just enough to kill her." Harry had confessed. Ron sighed, looking into his cup. He loved her more than he had known he would. Harry was busy ridiculing himself for having such an intense passion for her, to the point in where he would have to kill her for his own sake.

He had wanted to be free from this curse-and yet, at the same time, have her as his own to keep. Not to enslave her to do all chores for him- but for them to have a passionate relationship--day and night. To have him wake up in the morning and see her face illuminated by the sunlight. To have her wrap her arms around his neck as they indulge in each other's kisses. To have himself beside her and lovingly comforting her as she bears their child.

Harry punched onto the couch as he imagined all those things, having known that they were impossible-a disillusional fantasy. Ron had sat beside him, sipping through his mug of coffee.

"Isn't there any other way?" He asked almost inaudibly.

"Ask 'the god of the night'. Damn Marvolo Riddle and his useless rituals!" Harry had flamed. He had mocked the leader of all his kind. He dared to. He wouldn't know, anyway.

"Don't go blaming that git, mate. You have to get yourself out of this. Have faith."

"I had faith, Ron. It all withered out. I think it would be best if I just stay like this forever. I would risk it all."

"But don't you want to be free from this?"

"Of course I do, Ron! I DO!" Harry had shouted, having his voice echo through the walls of their flat. Ron was looking at him in apology, having known that he had befuddled him once again.

"...It's just...I love her so much that I would risk my own happiness for her." The sunlight beamed through the windows, and Harry was now crying-mourning for his own life. Ron patted Harry at the back, scared though that he might burst again.

"People have betrayed me and left me to rot because of who I am."

"No they didn't."

"Your mother did. Mr. and Mrs. Granger did." Harry had cleared. Ron looked down, filled with so much hate for his mother. How could she abandon him like that? How could she abandon her own adopted son?

"Look...go to bed and get some rest." Ron had said.

"I don't want to."

"I want you to."

"And who made you boss, Ron? Sleeping would only lead to my misery--to my fear of seeing her once more. It appears to me that you love seeing me in agony, Ron. Good bye." As the door slammed shut, Ron had ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He was used to this.

He walked into the bathroom, only giving a sigh of disappointment. Fur was scattered all over the sink, all coated with blood.

"You promised, Harry. You promised that you wouldn't put Crookshanks into this." Ron had whispered as he stepped out and shut the lights off-leaving the bathroom to bathe in darkness.

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Morning shone brighter than Harry had expected-he absolutely loved mornings. It was the only time of day where he could rest and feel secured about himself. Although, this morning just wasnt the day he wanted it to be. Clutching the pocket knife, he slowly made a cut just by his wrist. Blood trickled down from it, having him groan in pain. He leaned over to the cold, mossy wall of the dark alley. How he loathed blood-it was the one thing that represented life. He had life; An unending one, to that--that was his point. He had a life that would never end, even if he wanted it to. The blood had already camouflaged with his skin, and his energy was once again restored.

"Bloody Brilliant." He muttered. He shut his eyes closed, feeling the gush of wind flow through him. He looked to his right, finding her walking through the streets with a cellphone in her hands.

A typical day for her.

For him, as well.

He stays at that same spot, at the same time-gushing himself each and every day, then looking to his right and marveling at the woman that caused him so much pain. As he said earlier, today wasnt the day he wanted it to be. He was going to change this routine-he was determined. He walked slowly out the darkness and into the scorching heat. He was thankful that he wasnt the type of vampire that whithered under the sun--not like his father...Harry was indeed thankful for this. As he continued to stare up the sky, he actually felt a seeping feeling of relief. He wished things were this simple for him-but it just wasnt. With a small bump, he fell onto the floor and looked up at a very apologetic face.

Immortality had nothing to do with fate--he knew.

He had seen her face go pale as they made eye contact; Her hands were shaking as they rested on his chest. He could hear her heartbeat slowly growing faster and faster. Her eyes started to fill with glistened tears, and her lips started to tremble. Harry could feel her breath on his neck, which sent tempting shivers down his spine.

"That was a rough fall, wasnt it miss?" He said casually, slowly forming a smile on his face. He couldnt actually call out to her, knowing that if she remembered him from their past, everything would just turn into an emotional rumble. Hermione stared at him for a while, on the verge of a complete burst of emotions. Her subconscious mind was starting to take over her. Those flashing images of him-she couldnt help but feel the strong discomfort when she stares into the supposed stranger looking up at her.

"Yes...I suppose so." She said in an audible whisper, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He seemed vaguely familiar to her-aside from the dream, he seemed as though she had already met him. The discomfort had withered, and all she felt was relaxation and a tint of realization--the latter one, she didnt know specifically what it was. She could hear the people walk away, and some grumbling on that being such a waste of their time.

"I guess it would be best if we stand up now, miss."

Stupidity. Utter stupidity.

Harry thought, knowing that the compromising position he was in right now was just the delight he'd been wanting and craving for so long. Hermione, with a slight mysterious hesitation, stood up-and Harry followed suit.

"Im deeply sorry. I-wasnt really paying attention to--"

"No worries, miss. I understand." He replied, giving her a smile and placing both his hands into his pockets. Hermione, without a second thought, approached him and whispered lightly into his ear, her eyes in so much delusion.

"Is it really you?" she asked. Harry tried to keep his composure, and just turned his head slightly to her ear and replied, her hair touching the side of his cheek. With a small breath, he answered.

"Clearly miss, I have no exact clue on what you're talking about-especially on the mere fact that we are whispering for no exact reason."

"Then, im sorry to have bothered you sir." She said, briskly walking past him, and wiping the lone tear that had sweetly escaped from her pupils to her cheeks. Something about him was different, she thought. He seemed kinder, and not much of the masochistic maniac he portrayed himself to her. She pondered- she repeated it to herself over and over again. 'He looks so...familiar.' Dismissing the thought, she came onto the conclusion that he was just another acquaintance. A person that, one day, she would meet again. It was entirely impossible to her that he was who she thought he was--he was merely a product of her own imagination.

She was not the kind of person that mixed her own dystopia with reality.

As she turned onto the corner of Venus and Grand avenue, she felt a stirring voice from afar, apparently calling onto her. Looking back, she looked onto that acquaintance-one that was smiling so genuinely at her, with his hair ruffled and tousled and his glasses askew.

"Miss, im so sorry...I didnt get your name." He said, biting the near end of his bottom lip. Hermione tried to stay calm, clutching onto her bag tightly. As her chest throbbed in such an obtrusive way, she smiled back and tossed her hair to the side-a rare act for someone such as her.

"Would it be a deal if I get your name first?" She asked, stuttering at some words. Her own head was her adversary right now-that one tint that was shouting for her to discontinue her intentions. Yet, she could not resist the red tint forming on his cheeks. Having his hand run through his mop of ebony hair, a mark caught her eye, just placed by his wrist. She knew deep inside of her that she has seen that mark before-but she wondered on as to who it came from.

"Im Harry." He said in such a shy manner. Her heart suddenly stopped--'Harry?' she had then realized that he had the same name as of the one in her dream, and possibly someone else- She tried to let the thought pass, having known that she was just imagining things. She held out her hand, Harry following suit, and finally--that twinge of delight as 2 of different flesh touched. Harry resisted the urge to pull her close to him and have her breath down his neck.

"Now, you'd have to fulfill your side of the deal, Miss..."

"Hermione." She said, gently letting go of her hand from his. That tint of disappointment surged through her, and she pondered why. He was now looking down at his feet and grinning. 'Sexual Tension...' he thought. He found it quite amusing that he was making the most of a very bad situation. His time was running out--he needed her badly. Coming into conclusion, he finally broke that seeping, awkward silence between them.

"Look Hermione, I know we just met and everything, but I was just wondering if you'd like to take a walk with me?" Hermione glanced down at the floor, having crimson tints rush through her cheeks. Harry found it quite adorable, still fidgeting over the hem of his coat.

"That would be nice, I guess." She smiled, walking beside him. Harry smiled back, having her arm wrap around his as they walked through the sea of people and into the effervescent park by the end of the winding road. Seemingly, both had forgotten about their worries-they continued on, leaving behind the others to bathe in the wetness of the rain. Hermione's mind was finally cleared, and Harry's thoughts on death seemed to migrate away from him.

Little did they know that someone was following them.

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A/N: I FINALLY GRADUATED! w00t! FRESHMAN YEAR, HS! Sorry-just too happy. Would it be rude of me to ask for a review...? Well, okay then. Please review if you feel like it. Just tell me how it is, for I am very conscious about my fanfics right now. THANKS!


-TheFunkyDurian