"Mum! Dad! I'm going to the library!" Hermione called up the stairs, already headed towards the front door.
"But it's so late," her mother said, coming down the stairs.
"The sun hasn't even set yet," Hermione argued with a small smile.
"Yes, and knowing you, you won't be home until well after. You'll miss supper!" Her father called from the kitchen.
"I'll eat on the way back and I promise I won't be home too late. Love you both!" Grabbing her knapsack, Hermione practically raced out the door.
She made her way down the stone pathway of her house and began the trek to the library. The fifteen minute walk was so ingrained in her, she could have gotten there with her eyes closed.
With a little over a week to go before the start of her last year at Hogwarts, she was almost done compiling the information that her Muggles Studies professor had requested of her since she had agreed to take on the role of Assistant Professor instead of having a free study period. Between that and her duties as Head Girl, Hermione was staring down the barrel of an extremely busy final year at Hogwarts, and she was so excited she could hardly contain herself.
Fifteen minutes later, she found herself pushing open the doors of the library enthusiastically. The smell of all the books, the sound of the quietly flipped pages and the seriousness of the atmosphere were all like a soothing balm to her soul. It reminded her of Hogwarts, of home. The single story building had once been a small department store and had sat empty for years until it was converted into a library after a very rigorous campaign, spearheaded by one Hermione Granger, pointed out that the closest library to the town was an astonishing 30 minute car ride away and that wouldn't do at all for the local children. Smiling to herself, she made her way down the too familiar isles, gathering up several tomes almost at once and found herself a seat at a large, empty table where she could spread them all out.
Without wasting any time, she dove into the first one. Within the hour, she had finished skimming the most relevant parts of the book and had her notes stacked neatly in front of her. Glancing up to give her eyes a much needed rest, she looked through the large floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the library entrance and watched the very last of the sun set. She also couldn't help but notice the very handsome young man that had just walked in. He glanced around briefly before his stare unexpectedly pinned her to her seat. When he started to walk her way, she could feel her face heat and quickly glanced back down at the book in front of her to hide the blush that was surely creeping across her cheeks. She also chanced a glance to make sure that her wand was still hidden from sight in her knapsack, which sat on the table to her right.
"Would you mind if I sat here? Everywhere else is full," he asked in a polite whisper.
Without looking at him, she took a quick survey of the room and saw that, indeed, all of the smaller tables around where occupied.
"I can wait for another table to open up if you need all this space," he continued, a bit wryly. His voice was disarmingly charming and it made her stomach flutter a bit.
Oh, get a hold of yourself! she thought as she turned her head slowly to properly look at him. The first thing she noted was his face, expression open and waiting. Her stomach flip flopped and her head emptied when her eyes finally met his. They were a startling shade of blue; dark, almost navy. She had never seen eyes quite that shade before and it was several moments before she found her voice.
Clearing her throat softly she finally said, "No, it's alright," and moved several books onto the chair next to her to make some room.
"Thank you," he said, with a small smile and an acknowledging dip of his head as he put his bag down on the table, in front of the chair to her left. "If you'll excuse me just a moment."
As he walked over to a nearby shelf, she let herself really take in his appearance. He was tall, taller than Ron even, but not too thin. She guessed he was in his early twenties and there wasn't an inky-black hair out of place on his expertly coiffed head. His skin was milky white with no visible traces of any imperfections, save for the slightly darker circles around his eyes which were a beige hue, instead of the alabaster of the rest of his face. He was dressed very casually in dark black jeans, a pale grey t-shirt, and converse trainers, but the way he carried himself gave off a certain air of sophistication. Hermione looked down at her own casual outfit which consisted of a dark blue peasant blouse with a wide scooping neckline which exposed her collar bones and went right to edge of her shoulders, light washed jeans and black flats, and couldn't help but think that she felt rather dowdy by comparison, despite the fact that when she left her house, she had thought she looked rather nice.
She quickly averted her eyes, returning them to her book, as she saw him turn from one of the stacks to make his return to the table. She peeked up through her lashes when she heard him move his bag and settle into the chair next to her. He brought back with him a very thick book and had begun reading, or, she supposed, he had continued reading, since he had opened the book to roughly half-way through, without paying her any mind. As if sensing her gaze, he looked up to find her staring quizzically at him.
She had the sensation of a feather lightly tickling the inside of her head as their eyes met again and he said, in that disarming voice of his, "How rude of me. Here I am taking up half your space and I can't even introduce myself properly. Hello, I'm Marcus Wynston."
He offered his hand over the table for her to shake. Distant mental warning bells sang as she contemplated his outstretched hand, but she couldn't quite bring herself to listen to the quiet voice inside her that seemed to whisper danger, danger, and she couldn't stop herself as she took his hand and answered, "Hermione Granger."
His handshake was polite but firm and despite the tepid evening, his skin was cold...not that she really noticed.
"Hermione? What a beautiful name. It's fitting," he said, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a half smile.
She blushed and had to remind herself to breathe. "Thank you," she mumbled, grabbing a new book from her pile.
"So, what brings you to this wonderful establishment tonight?" he said gesturing around him.
Why was he still talking to her? Was he just trying to be polite? Did she care? She answered anyway. "I'm researching the persecution of women during the witch craze in Europe. I've already finished several books, the most recent being the Malleus Maleficarum, and I was just about to start this one," she said nudging the book that now lay closed in front of her.
"The Witch's Hammer? I've read it a few times myself." Her eyebrows rose in surprise and he continued. "Fascinating reading. A bit depressing, if I'm being honest. Now, my book is far more interesting." The more he talked, and the more she looked at him, the quieter and farther away the alarms in her head sounded.
He closed the large book he had been reading and turned it so the cover faced her. The battered old book was titled Vampires Through the Ages.
"Vampires? Why are you reading about vampires?" she asked, a hint of surprise present in her whisper.
"I met one recently, a few months ago, and I wanted to know what I was getting myself into," he said, seeming completely sincere.
"You - you, what? You don't actually believe that, do you?" A little bit of panic broke through the growing haze in her mind.
"Certainly. Don't you?" He was looking at her intently now.
She blinked, trying to clear her mind, unsure if he was asking if she believed in vampires or if she believed that he truly believed he had met one. The truth was that yes, as a witch, she obviously knew them to be real, having learned about them in school. However, she wasn't about to reveal her status as a witch to someone she had just met, especially if that someone was just a curious muggle, but the feather-light caress in her mind was trying to convince her otherwise.
Sensing her hesitation, he said, "If you don't want to be overheard, there's a charming little café down the street where we could continue our potential debate. Tea's on me."
"Café St. Laurent?" she asked bemused. She was shocked he knew about it. The café was a very small and intimate shop that not many people knew about. Being around the corner from two larger and much more popular beverage places meant that it was almost always empty. She had found it completely by accident one day a few summers ago and was sure that she was single-handedly keeping it open with her faithful, daily patronage, since she had never seen anyone else inside, other than the one waitress that was always there.
"That's the one." He smiled a bit broader.
She still had at least an hour before she had planned on being home and there was just something about him that she couldn't quite get her head around. The quiet alarm bells were nearly nonexistent now and she found that she wanted to go with him. She wanted to keep hearing his voice. She wanted to stay near him.
"Alright. Let's go then," she finally said.
They gathered up their knapsacks and books, returning the latter to their respective locations on the shelves and left the library together. It was a rare, cloudless night and all the stars were perfectly visible. She glanced up every once in a while to sneak a peek at her favorite constellations. If she thought she might feel awkward walking next to Marcus, a man she hardly knew, she was quickly proven wrong by their companionable silence. But as they walked along, the silence seemed to push into her mind, allowing space for the distant alarms to begin their warnings once more.
Just as she was starting to feel the stirrings of discomfort, they reached the café which was, unsurprisingly, empty and chose a small table in a corner, away from the front door and any other potential customers.
"Can I get you anything to drink?" asked the curly haired waitress.
"I'll have a green tea, please," Marcus ordered.
As soon as she heard his voice again, the discomfort vanished. "I'll have a hot chocolate," she said.
"Certainly. I'll be right back."
As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, Hermione asked quietly, "So you really believe in vampires?"
"I really do," he replied, perfect white teeth shining inside his mouth.
"But...why?"
At this point the waitress had returned with their drinks and Marcus waited until she had gone to answer. "I already told you. I met one," he said, his smile suggesting he was holding back a small laugh. "Far be it from me to deny what was right in front of me."
She took a sip of her hot chocolate. Wait, of course, he had said that. What was going on with her tonight? She shook her head slightly and despite her better judgment, her eyes lit up with excitement. She had learned all about vampires in school but that was all from books. Here was her chance to find out about them first hand!
She met his eyes again and the questions tumbled out before she could stop them. "How do you know him or her? Are they very old? What sorts of powers do they have?"
Marcus chuckled softly, the sound almost musical, and asked, "How old are you, Hermione?"
She thought it an odd question but answered anyway. "I'll be 18 next month. Why?"
"I've never seen such a young person this passionate about anything. It's...refreshing." Perplexed, she said nothing and he continued. "He is now a close friend of mine. He was turned when he was 25, but that was about, oh, 100 years ago or so. I assure you, he looks very good for his age. As far as powers are concerned, he's rather lucky, I suppose. He can be quite stealthy when he likes and he can fly. I'm very jealous about that particular skill. He can also be very…persuasive."
She was hanging on his every word. "That's amazing! But how do you know him? Why didn't he try to kill or turn you?"
"Honestly, I haven't the slightest idea," he shrugged. "I like to tell myself that he finds me amusing and that he likes having someone to talk to, but I supposed I also serve as his eyes and ears during the day as well."
She nodded. "Does he really need to drink blood to survive? I'm sure that sounds like a stupid question, but what would happen if he just ate regular food?"
"He would die," Marcus said simply. "He needs blood to survive. Fortunately, animal blood serves the same purpose. Unfortunately, human blood is far more satisfying."
"Has he killed many people?" she asked, frowning slightly. The severity of the conversation pried its way through her fog addled mind, hitting her all at once, and she suddenly felt terrible.
Marcus eyed her thoughtfully, never letting his eyes leave hers. "That frown looks so out of place there." He reached over the small table, touched a finger to the corner of her lips and tugged upward slightly, forcing her mouth into a sort of half, lopsided smile.
She couldn't move. His finger was cold on her mouth and when he pulled it away, the skin he had touched tingled slightly. "When he was first turned, he couldn't control the urges. He's had a handle on them for a long time now." He looked into her eyes and she froze a little more. "You're unhappy," he stated.
"I want to meet him?" The confused question tumbled from her mouth of it's own accord.
"Why?" he asked, in a tone that suggested that whatever her reason was didn't matter in the slightest.
"I want to meet him," she said again, unable to break eye contact. It was like his eyes were tethered to her soul and if she looked away for just a second, her very being would be shattered.
He leaned across the small table and whispered in her ear, "Meet me back at the library." As he drew back slowly, he turned his face ever so slightly, allowing his lips to just barely brush her cheek. He inhaled deeply.
She shivered violently and blinked. He was gone. Shaking her head slightly, she looked around and took in her surroundings. She was in the café, mug of hot chocolate no longer steaming. To her horror, she didn't remember leaving the library.
"Excuse me," she called to the curly haired waitress. "Did I pay you yet?"
"Your gentleman friend took care of it about 30 minutes ago. Have a good night, Miss."
Gentleman friend? What in the world? Then it came flooding back to her. Marcus.
Something wasn't right and she was going to find out what. Fuming angrily, she walked back to the library, wand concealed in her pocket. It was very dark out now and she had half a mind to keep walking and just go straight home, but she couldn't very well leave a dangerous muggle out there to take advantage of any one else he happened across. She was the brightest witch of her age. It was nothing she couldn't handle. Besides, he had clearly done something to her and she was determined to hex him into oblivion then alert the proper authorities. Whether he was a confused muggle or an errant wizard, the Ministry would certainly straighten him out.
But unbeknownst to her, underneath all of these perfectly logical reasons, a small, nagging worm of want had burrowed itself in her mind. She had to see him again, whether she wanted to or not.
She reached the front of the library and slowed down. The parking lot was now completely empty. Hearing a soft rustle of wind behind her, she whipped around, hand on her wand in her pocket, to find Marcus smiling down at her.
"You came," he said, though he didn't seem surprised at all.
Her grip tightened around her wand. "Of course I did," she snapped, anger evident in her voice. "Who are you? What did you do to me?" she demanded, looking all around her, trying to make sure she wasn't about to be ambushed.
Marcus took a step forward, lowering his head slightly to try and catch her gaze.
At once, she had her wand out and pointed at his chest. "Don't come any closer," she threatened.
"You're a witch. I knew there was something special about you since the first time I saw you 3 months ago."
His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, drawing her gaze right to them, and she found her head becoming foggy once more. "W-what do you mean 3 months ago?" she asked, shaking her head, desperately trying to clear it.
She tried to look away but she was transfixed. Her wand arm lowered of its own accord and Marcus took another step forward. "For years I've been searching for someone, anyone, who had a passion for life as I once did when I was alive. Someone to share that passion with me now in death. Someone like you, Hermione. You're passionate, beautiful, brilliant. Just what I've been looking for."
His voice was a cool breeze on a summer day. A warm blanket on a frigid night. A life raft in a turbulent sea. A piece of silk wrapped around her mind.
Her wand was on the ground, yet she had no memory of dropping it. They were almost nose to nose now.
"I don't want to die," she whispered into the night air, unable to move.
He was behind her now, though she hadn't seen him move. He held her firmly, her back flush to his chest, with one arm around her middle. His other hand snaked up to grasp her throat, tipping her head to the side, exposing her neck.
"It only hurts for a second," he lied.
A sudden burst of adrenaline and fear made a jumble of spells and jinxes race through her brain but she was powerless in his embrace. She felt his breath on her neck a second before the piercing pain set in. She didn't hear herself cry out, didn't feel her feet leave the ground as they floated upwards, disappearing into the clouds. What she did feel was every second of her life as it was drained from her. She felt her body growing heavier. She felt herself getting weaker. She tumbled through an endless blackness and she was sure she would fall forever. Only the pain existed.
Then, in the far reaches of her mind, she heard a voice telling her the pain would go away if she drank. Though she seemed to have lost her vision, she felt something being pressed firmly against her lips. Wanting nothing more than for the endless pain to finally stop, she instantly obliged by opening her mouth and was rewarded by a thick, warm substance flowing into her mouth and coating her throat. She swore she could feel it as it raced through every inch of her body and re-energized her. Her heart was pounding so fast and hard she thought for sure it would burst right from her chest. She screamed in pain and before it became truly unbearable…it stopped.
Everything stopped.
Slowly, so slowly, her senses came back to her. She felt like she lay on a cloud surrounded by silk. When she finally managed to opened her eyes, she saw the canopy of the four poster bed she now lay under. She lifted her head gingerly, expecting it to hurt and was surprised when it didn't. In fact, her whole body felt...perfect. She sat up and looked around, taking everything in. She was in what appeared to be a very large and ancient looking castle bedroom. About ten yards in front of the bed, there was a large open door that lead out onto a balcony. Before she could investigate much further, she spotted him in a shadowed corner sitting in a large armchair.
"Welcome back," he said standing. He had the nerve to look...proud.
"Where am I? And why do I feel so-"
"Alive?" he interjected. "Ironic, isn't it? That you can feel more now than when you were alive."
Horrified, she scrambled off the bed, moving much faster than she would have thought possible, and took several steps back until she hit the stone wall. She wanted to put as much space between them as she could. "I'm…what did you do to me?" she demanded, though if she was being honest with herself, she already knew. She was surprised to hear a very real growl in her voice.
"I saved you from your ordinary life," he said, looking slightly irritated as he prowled across the room, closing the distance between them swiftly. The charming man he had appeared to be before was gone. Only a predator remained.
As he stood in front of her, waiting, memories flooded back. The trip to the library. Meeting him. The constant haze in her mind while he had talked to her. The way his eyes had glowed...She even remembered her mind distantly trying to warn her but being unable to act. Now, however, her mind was crystal clear. The effects of whatever dark power he had used on her had worn off completely...and she was furious.
She looked right into his eyes and felt nothing but a boiling hatred. "You put a spell on me, kidnapped me and murdered me. You took my life away and gave me no choice in the matter and you have the nerve to say you saved me?" Her voice was a deadly whisper. "I was perfectly happy," she said through clenched teeth. She was unusually aware of her surroundings. Waves crashed on distant rocks just outside of the windows and a light breeze seemed to carry whispers through the air along with the salty smell of the nearby sea. He was standing uncomfortably close to her and she noted the complete lack of sound that surrounded him. No heart beat, no breath…nothing. He was devoid of all life.
"You'll still be happy. With me," he said, clearly trying to sound calm but the glare on his face undermined his tone, as well as the fact that he had caged her in by placing his hands on the wall on either side of her face, his nose barely an inch from hers.
Seething, she tried to punch him in the gut as she snarled, "You've ruined my life!"
He was too fast for her though and he stepped back in a flash, blocked her punch, and grabbed both of her wrists in an iron clad grip. He whipped her around and forced her back until the backs of her thighs slammed into the bed and she tumbled down into a sitting position on the soft mattress.
He loomed over her. "I'm only going to say this once," he began, his hands still tight as a vice on her wrists. "I gave you a gift. I've given you an eternity to do as you please. You should be grateful."
Her knee was up in a flash, colliding with his groin. He was surprised enough that he released her wrists but the blow wasn't strong enough to truly hurt him. "To do as I please, or to do as you please?" she hissed, standing and moving away from the bed quickly, lest he get any ideas. "Grateful." she scoffed. "You clearly don't know me at all. Which is to be expected. You can't really get to know someone by stalking them for 3 months," she bit out.
He was in front of her before she could blink, his hand darting out to grab her by the neck. "Don't do that again," he warned, violence shimmering in his eyes.
She was unperturbed. It was as if her courage was dialed up to it's maximum. Indeed, with a stark clarity, she suddenly realized that all of her emotions were pounding through her with such ferocity that, had she any breath left, it would have been stolen from her. "Or what?" she challenged, perhaps foolishly. The anger in her was as savage as a stormy sea and it drowned out any sense of self preservation. "This was my last year of school! I was going to be Head Girl and a professor when I graduated!"
Marcus closed his eyes and released her. She heard him muttering and could have sworn he was counting to ten. When he opened his eyes again, he was visibly calmer. He didn't apologize. Instead he said, "You can still do all of those things. If you wish. I daresay your last year of school will be better than you had anticipated."
She glared at him, a reluctant question in her eyes and he merely chuckled, a low and barely amused sound, and looked to his left. On the wall hung a very ornate, full length mirror. She followed his gaze and was so shocked by what she saw, she took an involuntary step back before slowly walking forward to stand directly in front of the mirror.
The reflection in the mirror was nearly unrecognizable, and, she noted with alarm, fading fast. Her hair was no longer the wild mass of almost curls it had once been. Instead, perfect corkscrew ringlets of the richest brown now covered every inch of her head, falling just below her mid-back. Her skin was as milky white as Marcus's, though she noted with a vain sort of satisfaction that it suited her much more. Even the dark circles around her eyes could have passed as a trendy cosmetic choice. And her eyes themselves...eyes that had once been a rich, chocolate brown were now closer to a light golden brown that seemed to shimmer in the torchlight.
Her mouth opened in surprise and closed just as quickly when she saw two particularly long and sharp teeth nestled neatly in her mouth. A thought crossed her mind, but before it could fully materialize, her reflection had faded completely.
"You like it, don't you?" Marcus asked. "You were beautiful before but now...now you're devastating." He was standing close behind her, casting no reflection of his own, so she didn't see when he raised his hands to brush his fingers lightly over her curls. When he reached the ends of her hair, his hands drifted to sit on her waist. She suppressed a shiver of disgust. "Don't try to deny it. I know what you're thinking. My blood is in your veins now. You are mine."
She whirled to face him. "I belong to no one," she said and pushed him backward with as much strength as she could muster. To her surprise, he sailed across the room almost reaching the bed.
She stared at her hands in wonder, then looked towards where he had landed nimbly on his feet. He visibly held back a snarl. "There is so much I can teach you. So much you need to know," he said getting up, hands held palms up in a placating gesture.
"There was still so much I could have learned in school," she snapped, crossing her arms and glaring at him.
"Hermione, despite what you may think, all I want is your happiness. Our happiness."
She swallowed her retort which would have been something along the lines of, I will NEVER be happy with you, you psychotic monster, followed by her throwing herself off the balcony.
She didn't know if he was bluffing about being able to know what she was thinking, but he seemed to read her intentions somehow because he shot to her side and wrapped a hand around her upper arm, holding her in place. "And if that means you finishing school, then so be it."
She wasn't expecting that. She knew she was essentially his prisoner but if she went back to Hogwarts, surely he couldn't follow. At least not to the school itself. And while she was there, she could research and learn everything there was to know about being a vampire. She didn't need him. She would figure this out on her own. Then, when she was ready, she'd find a way to be rid of him. Slowly, the beginnings of a plan sprung to her mind. Perhaps, she thought, if she played along...
He must have read the acceptance of her plan as resignation because he let go of her arm and made to wrap his arms around her. She forced herself not to stiffen as she reluctantly returned the hug. Distantly, she remembered how a hug use to feel, two hearts beating together. This was empty…she was empty.
"Let me fill that void for you," Marcus whispered.
Her emotions, she realized...that's what he was reading. Not her thoughts themselves. I can work with that, she thought, smiling inwardly.
He pulled back to asses her. She looked into his eyes and saw a storm of mixed emotions. Anger, longing, regret.
She couldn't let him regret turning her. Who knows what he'd do to rectify his perceived mistake. Still she said, quietly but not weakly, "I'd like to go home." She forced herself to add, "If that's...all right."
He said nothing as he studied her for a moment. She tried not to squirm under his intense gaze, and waited patiently. She honestly didn't know what she'd do if he said no. Finally, he took her hand and led her through the open door and out onto the balcony. They were ridiculously high up and there was no railing. Had she still had a heart beat, she mused, it would have been racing. The castle appeared to be built into the side of a mountainous cliff overlooking the sea. Under any other circumstances, she might have been awed by the vast expanse of water crashing into the rocks below or undiluted view of the stars above. Normally, she would have been petrified by the height, but the cold wind rushing around them carrying with it bits of salt water spray, was exhilarating. And whatever it was that had the sensitivity of her emotions dialed up so high, made the feeling even more intense. It was because of this that when she looked at Marcus and smiled, that smile wasn't completely forced. To her surprise, she saw his anger ebb away, his eyes softening momentarily. He put one arm behind her back and in one smooth movement scooped up her legs with the other.
"Hold on tight," he smirked.
She had just enough time to wrap her arms around his neck before he stepped off the balcony and they plummeted towards the water. A breathless scream escaped her before they soared back up into the clouds.
Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as she tried to figure out what she would tell her parents, her friends, the school. Maybe she wouldn't tell anyone. She could explain away her appearance easily enough, lending the credit to expensive cosmetic spells and potions. It could work...possibly.
She was unsure of so many things, but of one thing she was absolutely certain.
She would make Marcus Wynston regret the day he ever laid eyes on her.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! I had a blast writing this and I hope you enjoyed it. Full disclosure: this will eventually be DM/HG, so if that's not your cup of tea, I totally understand! (What can I say, I'm a sucker for enemies to friends/lovers.) That being said, I don't have things super planned out so at this point I don't know if their relationship will be romantic or not. Plot wise, there are definitely things/scenarios I'd like to see happen and I'm fairly sure how I want things to turn out in the end. All that being said, I write for fun, when I have time. I do try to keep characters as in-character as I can within the context of my stories, but this will be taking place during a fictional seventh year at Hogwarts and Voldemort stuff may or may not even be involved. If you're looking for a super canon-compliant fic, this might not be for you, and that's okay! I wish you happy reading. If you're feeling extra generous, feel free to leave a review. Thanks!