I don't remember one moment I tried to forget
I lost myself, is it better not said
Now I'm closer to the edge
Closer to the Edge, 30 Seconds to Mars

When the spirits were pulled out of the drinks cabinet, official Order business concluded. Hermione tended towards an imported brew called Beeblebrox, which had a lemony punch at the end. Most of her cohort, however, enjoyed traditional firewhiskey or a high-end liquor called Ambrosia. After the wizarding war, muggle liquor hadn't quite hit the mark – besides, Hermione had always hated the taste of firewhiskey – and so she had gone on a hunt for more flavorful, adult beverages to stock in their cottage. It had been Luna who discovered Beeblebrox on her travels, and Hermione took to it instantly.

Cormac stood in front of a mirror that hung on the living room wall, and mussed his hair up while making faces at himself. He kept trying to rope Luna or Pansy into his rather conceited conversation, but they were saved from him by Charlie and Blaise, respectively. Hermione watched as Cormac shrugged it off and turned back to himself with a pout of his lower lip. She caught the voice of the mirror carrying over the chatter in the room, and hid a laugh behind her hand.

" Of course you look fabulous, darling. Those eyes, that jawline. Magnificent. "

She thought that if Cormac could take the mirror home with him, he would.

She sat on a two-seater sofa with her feet pulled under her legs. Her glass of yellow drink was perched upon her knee as she returned to her conversation with George. She absentmindedly wrapped her fingers around her curls.

"A new shop?" she asked him, a shrewd and playful smile on her face. "Molly hadn't mentioned that at our last Weasley dinner. You haven't told your mum yet?"

George's face split in a grin, and he tossed her a quick wink. "Mum is afraid I'm going to pack up and leave now that the shop is successful. I'm waiting for the right moment to tell her I'm going to be part-time in Scotland."

"She'll understand, George. She's keeping busy with little Victoire — being a gran suits her." Hermione drank from her glass, the tart liquid stung her tongue in a delightful way. "But, if you wait to tell her, she'll have kittens."

George laughed, his head falling forward with a stiff nod. A movement out of the corner of Hermione's eye caught her attention and, as George went on to explain the finer points of opening a business in Scotland versus England, she found she wasn't listening anymore. Instead, her attention was on Theo, whose long fingers curled around Harry's elbow and pulled him away from a conversation with Daphne and Blaise. They stepped out of view, and she wished she could hear them over the disparate chatter going on in the living room.

Even though she knew he was in the infirmary with Dudley, waiting for the inevitable moment for him to 'rise', Hermione still searched for that familiar flash of blond hair. That must be what Theo was speaking with Harry about, it had to be. Anything else would be Order business, and there were no secrets amongst the Order.

"Hermione?" George nudged her with his foot and she startled. "I know business is a relatively boring topic, but I thought you like that sort of thing."

"I'm so sorry. I just — I have to go check on Dudley." Without another word, Hermione pushed herself up from the sofa and tipped the last of her drink down her throat, before setting the glass on a tray floating nearby.

Instead of veering left for the hallway where Theo and Harry were tucked, which led to the infirmary where Dudley lay unconscious, Hermione continued straight through the kitchen to the back door of the house. She pushed open the door and greeted the crisp night air as it settled over her heated skin.

The garden wasn't huge, but it was big enough to hold a small patio with a swing and a few chairs. There was a heavy crystal ashtray on a low glass table, and several trees that grew taller than the fence that boxed in the garden. There were so many enchantments over the space, Hermione was sure that there was a constant heating charm in place. She was thankful for this, since there was a bitter chill in the air and she hadn't grabbed her cloak before running from the house.

She sat on the swing and stared up at the sky. The Beeblebox she'd consumed had done a great job of creating a light haze in her head, loosening her sore muscles that were tense from the worries of the day. But, Merlin, did she need a moment to stop and catch her breath.

They'd come so far in the past five years. It never ceased to amaze her. No new dark lords had cropped up in the time since Voldemort fell, which had been the number one concern of the Ministry. Much to Hermione's consternation, of course.

There had been so many articles in The Daily Prophet following the demise of Tom Riddle in which Harry had been singled out as the next 'coming of darkness'. They proclaimed only a powerful wizard could possibly have stopped Voldemort, and with Albus Dumbledore out of the way, Harry Potter — the boy who lived, over and over again — was, of course, prime suspect number one.

After the first year, the scaremongering had slowed. The odd article would appear every now and again, stirring up controversy over the fact that the newly elected Minister Shacklebolt was training the then-dubbed 'Golden Trio' in the art of the Aurors and defensive magic.

After the second year, the articles stopped altogether. They only picked up again when Harry was spotted publicly with Theo for the first time. She'd never forget the way that Harry had stormed into the offices of The Daily Prophet and demanded a retraction. The only time Rita Skeeter had been more scared was when Hermione had trapped her in a jar.

In the third year, the rumors of the reformation of The Order of the Phoenix began circulating the wizarding world and —

"Sorry." A familiar drawl interrupted Hermione's musings, and her head whipped around to see him standing just outside the door. The light from the kitchen glowed behind him, illuminating him with an ethereal shimmer. "I didn't realize anyone would be out here. I'll just—"

"No!" She reached for him, despite the fact that there was no way she could actually touch him from such a distance. Her heart leaped when he stopped his retreat.

He hadn't changed all that much. Draco still wore the hell out of a button-up shirt, the arms of which were rolled to his elbows and the collar loosed by two buttons, revealing a pale and slender expanse of throat. She met his gaze lazily and offered him a small smile.

"You aren't interrupting anything, truly." Hermione crossed her legs and lifted her chin. Draco's eyes shifted to the ground by his feet, and he toed a rock on the pavement. "Why is it so hard to look at me?"

"It's not like that, Granger," he chuckled, a dark smirk lifting the corners of his lips, and finally brought his eyes to hers again. Her heart flipped. Still, after all this time, her reactions to him were practically violent. "Don't be so full of yourself."

She deflated and dropped his gaze. Hands wrapped together in her lap, she pulled at her knuckles until they gave a satisfying crack. "Then, what's it like?" Hermione's eyes lifted slowly until she was staring at him from under her thick lashes. "Your best friend and mine are going to be together forever. We might as well get along."

When Draco smiled, it was like the galaxy was moving just for her; she felt like the center of his universe, and perhaps that had always been the problem. Still, even as he rewarded her with his most honest lopsided smirk, stars burst in all the right places inside of her. She would do anything to be on the receiving end of his smile again. Her face flushed. His canines popped out over his stained bottom lip, and he ran a tongue over its sharp edge.

"You smell so bloody good." He shook his head as if trying to erase her scent from his mind. "My mouth has been watering since I showed up on your doorstep."

In the space of time that it took her to blink, Draco's eyes blew wide, pupils dilating and shrinking the stormy gray irises that usually stared back at her. She'd never seen anything like it. Her hand instinctively moved to her throat and clutched at it as a gasp escaped her.

Her reaction unnerved him, it was the only explanation. He bid her a swift apology and turned to the door. This time, when she called after him, he didn't stop. Hermione pushed herself from the swing and tore off after him; she wasn't sure if she wanted to soothe him or herself. She knew Draco's behavior was a creature thing, a biological impulse — she knew that — and she had to tell him.

By the time she made it to the archway between the kitchen and the living room, he was gone from sight. She wandered toward the hallway where Theo and Harry had been, but she didn't see any sign of Draco there either. Hermione spun on the spot, nearly clipping Charlie's bulky arm, and flung her hands down to her sides with an exasperated sigh.

"What's wrong, love?" Charlie asked around the lip of his glass; a pink tonic she recognized as Ambrosia.

Hermione shook her head, unsure of what to say; have you seen this vampire? didn't seem an appropriate question to ask in a room full of trained Aurors and vigilantes. She tried to peer over his shoulder, to perhaps catch a glimpse of familiar pale hair, but just then, strong arms that seemed to emerge from the edge of the shadowy hallway behind her, grabbed her around the middle.

Sharp fangs sank into her neck.

The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness were bright spots bursting behind her eyes.


The living room at Potter Cottage glowed bright red.

Nine wands simultaneously shot nine stunning spells, at the vampire who still had his arms around Hermione's waist. Harry didn't have to stop and consider that Dudley was his cousin, that he was likely to be confused over his new existence.

Hermione was his true family. If anything happened to her, he'd burn the world down.

As Dudley fell into a heap, with Hermione crumpled in his arms, Harry shot forward, pocketing his wand. His hands pulled her up, and he turned to Theo with a pained expression on his face: help me , it said silently. And Theo, just as he had been for years now, was by his side, helping to hoist Hermione to her feet so that they could carry her down the hall to the infirmary.

When they had Hermione lying on a bed, Harry turned to Theo. "Find Draco. Bring him to me. And get Dudley out of the damn living room."

"Where do you want him?" Theo was all business; the sharp planes of his face twitching under his clenched jaw. Harry could feel the stir of nervous energy that thrummed between them, and he fucking loved Theo for holding it back.

"Strap him to the sodding roof for all I care. I don't want to see him until I know she's alright."

He turned from Theo to Hermione's limp body lying on the bed. Her blood stained the white sheets, bright red and oozing continuously from two haphazard puncture marks on her neck. Muggle bite; he couldn't heal it with magic, there was no seal on the wounds. If he didn't do something quickly — something brilliant, something Hermione — he'd lose her.

"Fuck." He kicked his foot against the metal post of the bed and watched it jerk under Hermione's body.

He summoned gauze and held it against her neck. He'd never felt so damn useless in his entire life. Harry had never been any good at healing; he always cocked up the spells and had absolutely zero instinct for it. Ironic, considering the entire wizarding world thought he had a 'saving people complex'.

He laughed ruefully as he applied more pressure to Hermione's wounds. Her face was draining of color. "Don't you dare leave me, do you understand me?"

The door to the infirmary burst open and Draco appeared at his side. Harry never thought that he'd be particularly happy to see Draco Malfoy of all people, but his shoulders visibly relaxed and even as Malfoy shoved him aside, Harry was relieved.

"What the fuck happened to her, Potter?" His voice was a menacing hiss as he pulled the gauze away from her neck. If it were possible, Draco's entire face paled further. His eyes followed the path of Hermione's blood from the two wounds to the stained sheet beneath her, and his fangs popped out. "Well?"

"Dudley… I don't know." Harry said helplessly, gesturing towards her body like a useless idiot. "One minute she was talking to Charlie, and the next Dudley had his fucking fangs in her neck and she fainted."

"How much blood has she lost?" Draco demanded as he stuck his index finger to his canine and bit down on the soft skin. Several dots of blood dribbled from its tip.

"I don't know." Why hadn't he been paying attention? Fuck, he'd been right where she was standing not five minutes before she'd been attacked; why couldn't it have been him? "He couldn't have had her for long. Less than a minute."

Draco pressed his bloodied finger to Hermione's neck, his head bowed over hers. Harry couldn't make out the words he was whispering, but it felt so intimate that the tips of his ears heated up just watching it.

When Draco pulled away, the wounds on her neck were slowly closing, and Harry nearly collapsed to the floor in relief. "Will she be okay?"

"She hasn't been drained, and he missed her artery — he's a terrible vampire," Draco snorted darkly, and turned to Harry. "It's more than I could do for your cousin, Potter. But I can't stop her from turning."

His words knocked Harry in the gut and stole his breath. No . Harry rushed to her side, nearly pushing over Draco in the process. He let his hand fall across her forehead and smoothed her wild curls back from her face. "Wake up," he begged her in a pained breath. "Hermione, please, please wake up."

"She'll wake up." Draco slunk across the room, pulled a chair to her bedside and forced Harry to sit down in it. He glanced up at Draco hopefully, only to find an angry scowl on his face. "But it might be hours before the transformation is—"

"Wh-what…" Hermione's voice was soft and raspy, but even so , Harry's heart soared at the sound of it. His finger snagged on a lock of her hair as she pushed herself up on her elbows and glanced at him, and then at Draco. "What happened?" She lifted a hand to her neck and gasped. "Am I…?"

"You've only been out for a short period of time," Draco explained from somewhere behind Harry. "You couldn't have turned. But, you should have."

"I'm protected," she whispered, and Harry's eyes fixed on her fingers as they danced along the silver scars that had been bleeding profusely only moments before.

"Protected?" Harry repeated and he felt Draco stir at his back as Theo rushed through the infirmary doors, and skidded across the floor to his side.

"Is she—"

"Perfectly fine," Draco supplied in a tone of bemusement. "Evidently, she's protected ."

"There's a charm. I—" She swallowed and Harry watched her wince, immediately conjuring a glass and spelling water into it for her. She grabbed it, drank and sighed. "I cast it on all of us when the vampire activity began to get more pronounced in London. As a precaution."

"You charmed me without asking?" Harry's eyebrows rose.

"Potter, focus." Draco smacked him on the back of the head, and Harry swore he heard Theo chuckle. Some boyfriend , he thought as he rolled his eyes. "She saved her own life, and if it had been you that'd been bitten, she'd have spared you from the most intense pain you've ever felt."

"Don't know about that," he said, "ever share a soul with a dark lord?"

Theo smacked him round the head that time, but Harry couldn't stop the grin that crawled up his face. Relief soared inside of him, and he couldn't tamper down the emotions that suddenly flooded him.

"Is Dudley okay?" Hermione asked as a comfortable silence fell over the sterile room.

"Fine," Theo answered, but he was looking at Harry. "I didn't tie him to the roof, per your request, but I did use some crafty spellwork to hold him down to your bed for the time being."

"My bed?" Harry grimaced and stood from his seat as Hermione pushed herself off the bed and stretched her legs. "You tied him up in my room? The room that we—" he glanced to Hermione and Draco, and then leaned to Theo's ear and whispered, "do that thing you like, with the—"

Theo's responding smirk was positively sinful, and Harry bit back the groan that built in his throat. "Yeah, there," Theo said simply, a curt nod preceded a shudder from Harry. "I wasn't about to go into the room Longbottom occupies when he's here."

Their fingers tangled together and Harry had to stifle his grin, as it felt vastly out of place given the current situation. "We'll need to enervate Dudley soon so Malfoy can get him somewhere safe."

He turned to Hermione just in time to see her face pinch. An expression she always wore when she was turning over unpleasant information in her mind. After so many years of knowing her, Harry was sure he could read her mind simply by watching her face.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry stepped forward and dragged Theo along with him. He basked in the feel of his thumb caressing Theo's index finger, though he tried to keep his face neutral as he assessed Hermione's somber expression. She didn't look at him; she was focused only on Malfoy.

"Draco." It was soft, but he felt such weight in her whisper. Her fingers still clung to her throat that was still stained with bloody lines.

Harry felt helpless as the vampire in question left the infirmary without another word. He made to go after him; whether to defend Hermione, or to thank him for saving her, Harry wasn't sure. But it was Theo's tight hold on him that gave him pause.

"Let him go, Boy Wonder," his deep voice murmured into Harry's ear. "You can't possibly save everyone."