So breathe in so deep
Breathe me in, I'm yours to keep
And hold on to your words cause talk is cheap
And remember me tonight when you're asleep
Fall For You, Secondhand Serenade
A soft melody floated through the air around them. Hermione was so close to Draco that she was sure he could hear the thundering of her heart as it beat a staccato rhythm in her throat. In heels, her eyes were level with Draco's nose, and if she looked down just a smidge — and against her better judgment — she could see the soft swell of his upper lip where his canines hid underneath. She vaguely wondered if he'd been able to retract them for even a short while since that start of the evening. If not, part of her hoped that she was the reason, but then after seeing the marks Dudley had left on Tracey, she wasn't sure she wanted to be.
Their clasped hands were held at her eye level, while his free hand rested against her shoulder blade. She couldn't stop her fingers from curling into his shoulder as he began to move forward, leading her into a smooth waltz. The instrumental music played as if only for them.
"Have you spotted her yet?" Draco asked, as he whisked her to the left, and Hermione cursed silently as she realized he was a much more accomplished dancer than her; she couldn't claim any skill at all. "Don't—" he pulled her even closer, her chest pressed to his, which jolted her back from peering at the dancers around them. "How are you this terrible at spying? Wait until we get to the natural turn."
And so they did. Hermione's eyes narrowed at his nose as he gracefully maneuvered them around the floor, turning her gaze naturally around the room. "It would help if I knew who I was looking for," she muttered, ruling out various couples as they twirled and swayed around her. "Do you know how many blonde females are in this room?"
It was true. Though there was certainly variety within the sea of attendees, there were at least half a dozen blondes sprinkled throughout different corners of the room. If Hermione could only find the one who looked timeless —
"Find the red eyes," Draco said, moving them around in another three quarter circle, and Hermione let loose a sharp breath.
Impossibly tall and draped in the most beautiful, bright red satin, Desdemona easily stood out in the crowd. Hermione wasn't sure how she'd missed her before then, the woman drew attention to herself as if she didn't have a care in the world. Her hair was piled high in ringlets on her head, and her full, stained crimson lips were framed white teeth and sharp canines. Everything about her, including her eyes, was accented in red. She was surveying the room and before their eyes could meet Hermione brought her gaze to Draco's and found him studying her face.
"Got her." Hermione's fingers clenched around the muscle of his bicep, as her lips pulled up in a celebratory smile. "Take us three paces to the left and then as far away from the band as we can get."
His tongue darted out and wet his bottom lip. He blinked, and the darkness in his eyes cleared away, leaving sparkling gray in its wake. "I forgot how bossy you are." His lips twitched and his face moved closer to hers as he led them to exactly where as she'd commanded. "Merlin, I've missed it."
She bit the inside of her cheek, her stomach knotting as his words echoed around her mind. Before she could dwell on them for too long, Draco turned them again so that she was facing Desdemona, whose sharp, crimson nails were tracing a line down the neck of a human girl hanging off the arm of a dark skinned vampire.
"Well, it wasn't me who ended whatever it was between us," Hermione whispered, and took the lead of the dance in order to follow Desdemona, who was now walking, as if on air, to another vampire and her familiar. "I don't understand what she's looking for. She touches them, and then moves on to the next."
" Whatever it was ?" Draco hissed through his teeth and held her hand tighter in his. "Surely even you can't be that obtuse, Granger. Bloody hell, it's not like I said 'alright, been fun, toodles.' I had a very good reason for ending the affair we were having."
"Affair!" Hermione pulled back and craned her neck to glare at him with pinched lips. She stopped moving along with him, forcing him to stand still. "We didn't even get to the fifth bloody date, you tosspot!"
Their heated exchange drew the attention of the crowd around them. Crimson nails, which were embedded into long, slender and pale fingers, curled around Draco's shoulder. Hermione swallowed hard around a knot in her throat.
Desdemona's smile lifted her porcelain cheeks. She blinked her eyes innocently as she slowly tugged Draco back and away from Hermione's hold. "I don't think we've had the pleasure of making an acquaintance," she said sweetly, her voice a low timber that Hermione hadn't been expecting. "I am the leader of this coven, Desdemona. And, you are…?"
Hermione was removed from the dance floor with Draco's hand around her waist. She stared at his tight, expressionless face and tried to mimic it by schooling her features, so as to not reveal the nerves that were threatening to spill all over the floor at their feet.
A flute of sparkling liquid was shoved into Hermione's hand and she latched onto it tightly as she stepped closer to Draco's side. He bowed in front of the vampire, took her hand in his and placed a delicate kiss on the back of it.
"Draco Malfoy," he said, affecting a regal lilt. "And this is my darling familiar, Miss Astoria Greengrass." Not reacting to her sudden change of identity was nearly impossible for Hermione. She opened her mouth, but Draco pushed the flute of champagne to her lips. "I received an invitation from one of your—"
"Children," Desdemona supplied as if she expected one of them to object to the term. "Much like normal human children with their mothers, my subjects love me unconditionally. It's part of the charm of being a sire."
"Of course. You'll forgive me," Draco replied kindly as his shoulders straightened and he placed his hand around Hermione's back as she drank the melony liquid. "My sire abandoned me quite early on in my transformation. I woke up alone and hungry."
"And look at you now." A nail dragged down the side of Draco's face before Desdemona moved her gaze to Hermione's face and down the expanse of exposed flesh between her breasts. "You've found a familiar who aims to please, judging by the dress she chose for you tonight."
And then she was gone, moving through the crowd as if she were floating on air. Graceful and perfectly poised. Hermione watched her until she was enveloped in a crowd of love from her 'children' and their familiars, before placing the half finished drink in her hand onto a passing tray.
"Something is so off about her," she told Draco, finally able to breathe again. He stared down at her, his eyes drifting from where her dress split on her stomach, up past the valley of her breasts to the slim silver chain that laid against her clavicle. His gaze continued to the pulse that raced wildly in her throat, to her pink painted lips, before finally settling on her eyes. "Draco?"
"Is all of this for me?" His voice was raspy and low. He stepped towards her with his hands on her upper arms, lightly stroking up and down. Hermione dropped her gaze again — yes, and no, she thought — but he brought her focus back to him with a gentle knuckle to her chin. "Hermione. Tell me if this is for me."
Hermione felt feverish. Warmth bloomed in her chest and flushed quickly up her throat and to her cheeks. It didn't escape her notice that Draco's eyes dipped and followed her blood's path. She shook her head, muttering something about Theo the fairy godmother and his silly ideas, but the words were disjointed and breathless. Clearly, she hadn't fooled him, because Draco's lips broke into the most wicked smile and he lowered his face toward hers.
"I've never known you to go along with something unless you absolutely want to," he reminded her almost playfully. His eyes held her captive as they flicked over her face and back to her throat again. "Your pulse is like a hummingbird's wings — fuck, I can smell the blood pooling in your cheeks."
His lips were so, so close to hers and her eyes fluttered shut. She was enraptured by his spell, the night, and his words, which went against her whole plan for the night. She'd failed spectacularly. But for the moment, as his hand moved to her neck and his fingertips tickled the hairs at the base of her skull, she was going to allow it. Merlin, she missed his touch and the way he always looked at her as if she were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"We should send a Patronus to Potter," he whispered, rather than kissing her as she'd been expecting — hoping. He pulled away and when she caught his eyes again they stole her breath away. Sheer black and blown wide. "The scent is getting powerful here; it's only a matter of time before one of these newer vampires won't be able to control themselves."
"I'll go to the ladies'." Blinking slowly, and breathless, Hermione pulled away from Draco's touch and wet her lips. "If anyone sees the magic, it'll cause a riot." She turned towards the bathroom and then pivoted back around when she felt Draco at her back. She raised a hand and shook her head. "You just… you stay here. I can use a toilet on my own."
She moved as fast as she could in her strappy heels, cursing Theo Nott and his 'pain and fashion go hand in hand' lecture the entire way to the toilet. Pulling her wand from its confines against her outer, upper thigh, Hermione hid in one of the stalls and cast her Patronus.
We're going to need backup, Harry. Send the Order now; we have to make a move tonight.
The little blue, translucent otter flounsed through the air of the toilet cubicle and through the solid door. Hermione took a moment to collect herself. She laid the back of her hand against her forehead and swore. It was hot to the touch and she was starting to feel shaky — she was running a fever of some kind. She flushed the toilet with the bottom of her shoe, pretending that she'd actually used it for its intended purpose, and strode from the room to find Draco.
When she entered the ballroom once more, she saw Draco with stiff shoulders and his eyes on her. It wasn't until she made it over to him that he seemed to relax slightly.
"Is it hot in here to you?" she asked upon her approach, her hand moving to her throat as if she could somehow make the temperature more comfortable by rubbing the skin there. "I think I might be getting sick."
Her hand seemed to drag Draco's attention to her neck along with it and she felt hotter still. "Stop drawing attention to your neck," he muttered quietly, and reached out for her hand before promptly dragging her back to dance. "Did you get the message off to Potter?"
Hermione nodded and fell into step with him as they waltzed slowly. She stepped on his feet a handful of times, but he didn't seem to care, carrying on despite the fact she was struggling to keep up with him. "I told him what's happening. We have to shut it down tonight, Draco. These poor people…"
"Scarhead will get here in time to help," Draco promised her, and shifted his body so that he was pressed closer to her. "We can't do much of anything until The Order arrives, might as well enjoy it while I can."
The hand on her shoulder blade moved down to the small of her back and encouraged her to step further towards him. She didn't fight it, and welcomed his proximity. His face lowered closer to hers.
"Draco…" Hermione said his name in a long, breathless plea. Her face flushed again and she felt a burning heat where his hand was planted on her back. "Something's wrong."
He brought the hand clasped in his down to his shoulder and placed his hand on her cheek. "This isn't wrong, Hermione," he said quietly. There was only a scant bit of space between their lips. "I was wrong to stop it. I shouldn't have—"
Draco moved to press his lips to hers, but Hermione turned her face away. It didn't seem to deter him at all, and instead he ran the tip of his nose down her chin and over the pulse on her throat. Her stomach tightened as his breath ghosted across her skin, sending tingles skittering along the length of her spine. Her hand squeezed his shoulder.
She wanted him, wanted this. Hermione tilted her neck to the side, exposing it for him.
"Draco — please," she asked when his lips finally pressed against the soft skin on the underside of her jaw.
His hand tightened on the other side of her neck, tipping it more, and he ran the sharp point of his fang lightly over the erratically thumping pulsepoint. "I can't stop. I can't — fuck, I want this so bad, but—" Draco's grip was so rough, she thought he might break her, and she didn't have the presence of mind to stop him. "Something's wrong. You were right, I can't—"
A piercing scream cut him off.
Draco lifted his head and then went utterly still. That's when Hermione saw it. A tall man on his knees, blood spurting from between his fingers as they clutched uselessly at his neck. In the next second, the nearest vampire ducked his face down to the man's neck and claimed the blood for his own. But, it was too late. Pandemonium reigned as people shouted, heels clicked against the floor, vampires growled, and Draco finally let his grip on Hermione loosen and moved to tuck her into his side.
Vampires chased their human familiars to the nearest exit. But the doors had been locked. They fought to escape, banged on the door, and cried for help. Hermione brandished her wand and made to run forward, but Draco grabbed her elbow to stop her.
"I can't just let them die, Draco!" Hermione shouted as she watched the humans, one by one, succumb to the whims of their vampires.
Hermione yanked her elbow free from Draco's grip and, with her wand whipping over her head, dashed to help the muggles. But it wouldn't matter what she did, she couldn't possibly save them all. A second burst of magic appeared alongside hers, and relief flooded her as Draco tried to stun the vampires and staunch the bleeding of the muggles who seemed to be drowning in a pool of their own blood.
"Unlock the doors," she barked at Draco, pointing her wand between a vampire's eyes and stunning her. "I don't have any Blood Replenisher on me. I don't think I can save them. Unlock — the bloody — doors!"
Following her command, Draco took a step away from her. As soon as his back was to her, someone grabbed Hermione's wrist and yanked her to the side of the room. Before she could react, teeth sank into the veins of her wrist, leaving two great puncture wounds in its wake. Then the vampire suddenly collapsed to the ground and Hermione pulled her wrist to her chest, only to find Draco standing and staring back at her from just beyond the fallen body of her attacker.
His eyes were blacker than onyx, blown wide as they zeroed in on the blood pouring from her wrist. She made to take a step back, but swayed on the spot instead, woozy and still so, so overcome with heat. She took a breath, tried to say his name, but her visioned blackened at the edges and she was sure she was going to faint.
As her legs buckled underneath her, Draco's arms wound round her waist. He took a step forward, turned them on the spot, and, with a deafening crack, they disapparated from the castle.
As the world went black around her, Hermione succumbed to the pull of unconsciousness.
Draco landed on his knees in the middle of Tracey's tiny living room with Hermione limp in his arms. It had been the first place he'd thought of — at least thought of clearly enough for a successful disapparation — probably due to Dursley's comment earlier in the evening about meeting them there. His signature must already be attuned to Tracey's wards, though he hadn't known that until he opened his eyes to see her staring back at him.
Her lips quirked at the corners."Couldn't resist?"
He bared his fangs at her, a growl rising at the back of his throat. "One of Desdemona's children did this," he spat, lips forming an angry scowl. "I need Blood Replenishing Potion, gauze — whatever you keep on hand."
"Which is exactly nothing." Tracey stood and waved her wand over her sofa, transforming it into a makeshift bed. Draco lifted Hermione onto it and turned back to Tracey. Draco fleetingly noticed Dursley standing by an armchair, gaping uselessly at the scene. "I don't stock anything here, I don't need to."
"Fuck. Can you floo headquarters?" Draco pulled his wand out of his pocket and waved it over Hermione's prone body. The simple diagnostic he performed showed only blood loss and vampire venom.
"No can do," Tracey said with a shrug. "No floo."
Draco bit into his fist and swore against his skin. "Apparate to Potter Cottage. Get supplies. We'll stabilize her here and then when she's able to, I'll apparate her there."
Tracey saluted him, looped her arm with Dursley's and disapparated with a loud crack.
He looked down to Hermione and moved some stray strands of hair from her forehead. It was hard not to believe this was his fault, and yet, he found himself furious with her for running off as she had. If it had been anyone else — even Pansy — Draco would have let her turn. But Granger? Fuck, he couldn't stomach the idea.
It took all of Draco's strength to keep from drinking Hermione's blood as it dribbled from her wrist. It sang to him — a siren's call, the likes of which he'd never heard before. His tongue ran the length of his bottom lip, heady and hypnotized by the sweet aroma. Just a taste — all he wanted was a small taste of her.
The only thing that stopped him, aside from strength he didn't know he had, was that he knew Hermione would never forgive him. He steeled himself and gritted his teeth.
With a flourish, he waved his wand over the two puncture marks on her wrist, which were still dribbling blood at a steady rate. She was so pale, almost waxy, and her lips had begun to turn purple. Draco lifted his hand to his fangs and broke the skin open so that his blood flowed. He pressed his bloody fingers to her open wounds and watched as they knitted themselves together. He could only hope that she still had the vampire protection on her; there was nothing else he could do.
His hand grazed her cheek, and he tried to rouse her. "Hermione," he whispered as he ducked his lips by her ear. "I need you to wake up. I don't have supplies and… the only thing I can do is give my blood to you. But… I need your permission, love. I don't want to do this without your consent."
She didn't move.
He rested his head against hers and brought his hand to her cheek. His thumb caressed her cheekbone and he jostled her face a little to try and wake her.
"Hermione, please. Fuck, please answer me."
Her dark eyelids fluttered and she moaned in the back of her throat. He startled at the sound and continued to try to wake her with his fingers trailing across her pale face.
"Draco?" She was breathless, barely able to open her eyes and move her lips. "What's — what happened?"
"I need you to drink my blood," he said urgently. Draco brought his wrist to his lips and punctured the vein with his teeth. He held it to her lips, but she pressed them together firmly. "Please, Hermione — please do this."
Their eyes met and all he could do was nod, willing her to trust him — even after everything he'd put her through in the past. Finally, her mouth opened and even though she didn't speak the words, it was all the permission he needed. He planted his wrist against her lips and let the blood spill into her mouth. All the while, all he could do was pray that it was enough to keep her alive.
