Recap:

Recap:

"But—" He tried to protest, but his lips seemed immobile as his eyes surveyed the room, mostly full of people who he'd wronged at some point in his life to varying degrees. He would always be a heartless bully, a monster, to them. How could he ask them to let him stay after everything he'd done? How could he beg for their protection when it was the exact opposite of what they wanted, what he deserved?

"Get in your coffin," Hermione demanded, fed up with his stalling. "Tomorrow you will be returned to your Lord, whether you want to or not."


Chapter 7: The Tribunal

Hermione and her mother stood in the garden an hour before sunrise, nearly prepared, but not at all ready for what was to come. Ron had been in Voldemort's compound for almost eighteen hours, but he would have to wait twelve to fourteen more for it to be night again.

"What if I fail?" Hermione asked, bowing her head. It seemed she had cried all of her tears for Ron already.

"Then at least you gave it everything you had," came her mother's soothing voice. It would have been beyond inappropriate for her to sweeten her words and give false hope. In the time since the war's end no one dared wish for more than was feasible. Mrs. Granger spent the better part of the war hoping and praying for the survival of her family. When her husband, the only man she'd ever loved, was killed then at least she could say she still had their daughter. Hermione's descent into the undead had sent a shock through her soul, hardening her almost instantly. The world was cruel and uncaring, and hope was for fools.

"He has begged me countless times to change him, mother," Hermione continued. "And I have refused, because I believed it was the right thing to do."

"And it was—"

"What if he dies?" she snapped, the anger filling her like hot air in a balloon. "I could have ensured his survival if I—"

"Killed him?" Mrs. Granger was the picture of calm. "You did the right thing, you did what Ron would have done in your situation. You love him truly, even if you can't express it."

"He begged Malfoy to change him too."

At this the older woman arched an eyebrow in confusion.

"When?"

"The night before he was captured, Ron came here to see Malfoy. He wanted to become what I am, and he was willing to sacrifice everything to do so. He went as far as to offer his eternal obedience to the damn rat. It's the first time I've ever been able to thank Malfoy for his selfishness and hatred. He refused to turn Ron because he refuses to help anybody."

Almost before the words left her lips, Mrs. Granger had her daughter in a loving embrace. She kissed her tenderly on the forehead and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too, mum," she whispered back, her voice choked with emotion. But she did not cry.

"Well now." Her mother took a step back and straightened her hair. "I better get going. You need to rest before tonight."

"I will write you as soon as I come home, regardless of the news."

After a few more words the two Granger women parted. Hermione slipped back into the dark home she no longer felt safe in, and her mother continued through the garden towards the back gate and back to her own house. Her fingertips barely grazed the cold metal of the gate when an arm snaked around her throat, jerking her back and off her feet. She tried to scream, but no sound came as her assailant was crushing her airway. Seconds passed as she scratched and kicked, thrashed and bucked. And then her heart paused, skipping a fraction of a beat. A moment later and there was a sharp, searing pain at the base of her neck, followed by a feeling of dizzying weightlessness.

"Mum!" Hermione's scream echoed across the garden, piercing Mrs. Granger's heavy consciousness. She heard footfalls pounding in her direction, which abruptly stopped just as they came close.

"Another step and I snap her neck," came Draco's thick, blood-coated voice.

"You fed on my mother!" she cried, using every ounce of strength to not lunge at him.

"I was going to wait until later, but unforeseen circumstances have interfered with my plans. If you do not agree to my terms then I will kill her, understand?"

Hermione's pulse quickened as her outer countenance calmed. She needed to remain focused for this, no matter what.

"I thought you wanted to go back there," was the most logical thing she could think to say.

"After I failed to kill you? After I failed to evade capture? What do you think he's going to do when he has me back? Because I'm certainly not in line for a promotion!"

"You can't honestly be asking for protection after all you've done to me and my friends."

"No," he seethed, tightening his grip on his victim. "I'm demanding it. So make a decision, Granger. Weasley or your muggle mother. They'll both die eventually, how soon is up to you."

"Draco, please," she said, completely unshamed by her words. She loved her mother and would do anything to keep her safe. "She's my mother. How can—"

"You killed my father and enslaved my mother!" he countered, startling her with his conviction. And she thought he didn't care about them. "And now you've enslaved me! You've had your revenge, now it's my turn."

"You said I had a choice," she reminded him, for it sounded an awful lot as if he'd forgotten.

"Fuck it," he said, his voice calm and level. "I changed my mind. You took away the only family I had, and now I'm going to do the same to—"

Just as Hermione moved at him, Draco's grip around her mother loosened and she fell to the side, bruised but alive. His face contorted with rage as his plans for escape and revenge crumbled before him, while his eyes bulged from the pain of Harry's hands clamped around his throat. Hermione need not ask; Harry had always been there for her, and this was another one of those times.

"I'll get her home safe," he told Hermione. "You take care of him."

He let go of Draco just as Hermione came forward to take his place, her grip arguably five times tighter.

"Mum, Harry's here and he's going to take you home, ok? I can't let him go, I can't let Ron down."

"Hermione," she began to protest, but was cut off.

"Mother! Please, just do this for me. Harry's right next to you, he'll be with you the whole time. No one will harm you. I promise. I love you."

Before she could respond, Harry summoned his strength, reaching through the dimensions, and grabbed Mrs. Granger around the waist, forcing her through the gate and into the coming dawn.

"It's nearly morning," she whispered, her face inches from Draco's. "I could leave you here to burst into flames."

"And then how would you barter for your lover?"

Hermione the scholar would have responded with words, would have made some witty comeback that was both true and harmful. Hermione the vampire, on the other hand, was all instinct, all fight. She didn't even allow her brain to process her thoughts before she reacted, taking her balled first to Draco's fleshy temple. He crumpled into her arms and she was able to carry him inside just as the morning broke.


Hermione awoke delirious and uncomfortable in a coffin that was not her own. Opening her eyes, she saw Draco's unconscious body beneath her. Realizing she must have gone to sleep before she could reach her own coffin, she scrambled off of him, very aware that it was night again and Death Eaters would be at her door any moment. Shaking Draco awake, she left the room to get herself ready and await Harry's arrival, which would hopefully be before her arrest.

"Where are you going?" Hermione demanded as Draco went for the door.

"To feed, where else?"

"Even if we didn't have to go before Voldemort any moment, there's no chance I would allow you to. Be lucky I'm not confining you to your coffin until they arrive."

"You act as though you're surprised at my behavior. Have I not been trying to escape since the moment I was dragged here?"

"You crossed a line, Mal—"

"Drop it, would you?" he groaned, running his fingers through his hair. "Didn't we go through this already? You killed my father. You basically did the same to my mother, and to me. Is it so wrong for me to want revenge?"

"Revenge for what? For my revenge?"

"It's as though you're only as smart as you want to be."

Hermione's back stiffened. What did he mean by that?

"We're not the same people, Hermione! We don't want the same things, don't come from the same worlds. We're bound together by some cruel twist in fate, but we don't belong together."

"I thought you didn't want to go back to Voldemort anymore."
"That doesn't mean I want to stay here. I want the protection of the underworld, not you."

Hermione noticed Harry's presence in the kitchen long before Draco would, and she sensed the Death Eaters fast approaching. Seamus hadn't gotten there yet and, in her heart, she hoped he was too late. She didn't need yet another's blood on her hands.

"Your friends will be here any minute," she said, standing to meet Harry, "to take you home."

"But—"

"I'm a reasonable, logical person, Malfoy. Maybe you should have tried your sob story before attacking my mother. We probably could have reached an agreement."


Ron welcomed the night with a sigh. Soon Hermione would be here to save him, and then, having realized he could have died, she would change him. He hated that it had to come to this, but, now that it'd happened, he was glad for it. For once Voldemort's scheming had worked in his favor. He couldn't say he was grateful, but he certainly wasn't upset.

A bell sounded not too far away, in one of the towers of the compound. Ron looked up to see a procession of cloaked, masked figures walking in a line towards the fire pit at the center of the grounds. With a flick of a wand, one of the Death Eaters lit the wooden teepee, casting the compound in a murky, yellow glow. Almost immediately after, the south entrance opened and in walked a dozen more Death Eaters, lead by Hermione and Draco. Ron didn't need to be told that Harry was there too.

Voldemort's bell—one with a lower, deeper tone—sounded and out walked the Dark Lord, his cloak cascading behind him with unwarranted grace. He stopped just short of the bonfire, signaling to the guards beside Ron to take him down. He caught Hermione's eyes, smiling meekly at her as they dragged him roughly before her.

"Ronald Weasley, of pureblood descent, you are brought before this tribunal on the charges of conspiracy, heresy, and treason," a Death Eater read from a scroll in his hands. "Your sentence is death, lest we reach an agreement otherwise." The cloaked Death Eater motioned for Hermione to step forward with Draco. Two Death Eaters beside them attempted to take her arms, but were met with a warning snarl and barred fangs. Lifting her pale face high in the firelight, Hermione came forward, her hand clamped tightly around Draco's wrist, her nails digging into his flesh.

"You're supposed to be dead," Voldemort remarked, his eyes shifting to Draco for an instant.

"Technically I am," she replied with a tight smile.

"How is it that you've managed to avoid detection for so long?"

Hermione shook her head, her long, silky curls gleaming in the light. On the other side of the fire Ron bit his lip to keep from smiling. Even at her cruelest, even as she was face to face with the most evil of wizards, she would always be the sexiest woman he'd ever known.

"That is not part of the agreement. An exchange was all that was mentioned. Be content with knowing I'm still out there."

A collective gasp arose from the crowd of vengeance-seeking Death Eaters. Not since the rebellion three months after the end of the war had anyone dared even contradict Lord Voldemort. Yet here before them a young muggle-born witch turned vampire was blatantly denying him his rights. Noting their reaction, Hermione smirked, always a rebel at heart.

"Very well." Tensions mounted as the words passed his thin, white lips. Was he truly bending to her? The law dictated that he need not, that his word was final. No one even breathed for fear of upsetting the fragile balance in the air. "Make the switch."

Hermione stepped forward, pulling Draco along with her and stopped beside the raging flames, unconsciously taking in their warmth and light. The Death Eater who had read aloud the scroll took Ron by the elbows and jerked him towards them. A moment of silence passed, Hermione's eyes locked with that of the Death Eater. No words needed to be spoken as, at the same instant, both released their captives. Ron rushed to Hermione's side, but dared not touch her, as she made no move towards him. She watched, eyes cold and hard from so many nights of hunting and killing. Draco's feet glided along the ground as if carried on the wind, his face forward, but his mind stalled. This was it, this was what he'd been both fearing and craving since his capture. His foot no sooner hit the ground, in front of where the Dark Lord stood, than he was yanked into the air and flung aside, crashing hard into the Death Eater who stood there.

"I'll deal with you later," Voldemort hissed, then focused back on Hermione, who had yet to relax. "Miss Granger, I'm assuming you are capable of keeping your word. Now that I've returned Mr. Weasley to you, I do not expect to have to bring you here under similar circumstances. Am I correct in my assumptions?"

Again the tension thickened, coating the voyeurs like a blanket of snow. Not a one of them had ever even heard of—let alone witnessed first hand—their master asking another if he was right.

"You are correct," she said with a smile and a nod. "And yourself? Will I be receiving the same courtesy?"
Voldemort bowed at the waist, his eyes on her the whole time.

"You have my word."

"Very well. Good evening."

Turning, she caught Ron by the arm and hurried him towards the exit. Harry lingered a few yards behind them, watching Voldemort and the Death Eaters with suspicion. The switch had been too easy, too quick. Something was wrong.

"Hermione," Ron gasped, fumbling over his own feet. He wanted both to kiss her and demand to know why she was pulling him so hard. He was only mortal, he couldn't move like her.

"Quiet," she ordered, picking up the pace slightly. She glanced over her shoulder to see Harry behind them, as cautious as she was. Turning her head back she swore under her breath, having caught a jagged movement out of the corner of her eye. She gave herself no time to brace her fall as she hurled Ron around her and into a water-starved bush, then dove in after him. The Death Eaters closed in on them, unaware of Harry's presence and rage.

"Come out mudblood," one of the female Death Eaters snickered.

"You can't do this!" Ron cried, jumping to his feet. He'd been raised with morals, standards, respect—all of which Voldemort was violating. "You made an agreement!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

"No!" screamed a voice from within the crowd of anxious Death Eaters.

A violent green light seared through the night air, rocketing towards the target on Ron Weasley's chest. With no counter-curse and no way to block the spell, Ron stood—dumbstruck—as the lightning bolt of death came at him. Hermione leaped into the air to shove him out of harm's way and, at the same time, Draco emerged from the crowd and threw himself between the blast and Ron's stiff form, taking the full weight of the curse.

Eons passed in a heartbeat and Draco opened his eyes, breathless and bruised, but completely alive.

He hesitated only an instant to take a breath, then stumbled towards the crumpled figures of Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and—to the utter horror of all the others—Harry Potter, who must have jumped in front of Draco a second before the curse hit.

"Potter!" Draco exclaimed, falling at his side. He was too shocked and jostled to realize what had occurred. The killing curse had, yet again, failed to take Harry's life as unprecedented circumstances prevented it. "Get up, Potter!" he commanded, hauling the once-invisible ghost to his feet. "Granger, Weasley, come on!" He had only seconds before the shock wore off, before everyone realized the magnitude of the situation.

"Stop them!" Voldemort bellowed, rage scorching through his veins like liquid metal.

Harry snapped back into reality just as the Death Eaters began closing in around them. Without thinking, he grabbed Ron's arm (Hermione was already clutching his unconscious body; Draco was still in the process of shaking Harry back to his sense) and apparated to the first place he could think of: Hogwarts.

The four former students tumbled onto the lawn outside the once-magnificent school, now the ruin it had always pretended to be.

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms around them. "You're alive!"

"Yeah," Harry whispered, stunned. "Thanks to Malfoy."


If this doesn't get reviews, I don't know what will!

REVIEW!