Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me, all of it belongs to JKR. Except the seriously twisted little plot that belongs to me. Uh, yeah. JKR owns the characters. Order of the Phoenix is coming in four weeks. My Gawd…

A/N: Hurray! This is the fastest I've updated in a while. Hope you enjoy ^^; the plot is now stark raving itself mad and story is quickly concluding…also thanks to my tough-ass editor, Hyde. And reviewers.

Chapter Fourteen

Draco winced as the blood rushed to his wrist, where he held it to Hermione's mouth.

He let it go slowly, at the same time feeling at her neck for the return of a pulse. He concentrated hard on keeping conscious because it was draining away his strength. Exhaustion was catching on, but he persisted.

Her body was getting warmer, and her pulse slowly came back. Draco pulled his wrist away. 

He knew it had to work.

The reeking violet gas flowed through her nostrils, and broke free of her lungs to spread throughout her whole body. And then it became her – filled her head and body and then broke out, left her entire physical form – and she floated out with it.

She was flying above the ceiling. She could see. The hallway of a stony castle. The small flaming torches and the stars outside. The door. The door, the one that led to the dungeons.

She knew a lot of things. She knew that Voldemort, that snake-like mutation, was Apparating back to the very few servants he had left, back to his pet Nagini and his sanctuary within a dark forested alcove. She knew that the Resistance was still planning, a group of good-hearted wizards working late into the night…

She could see herself sprawled on the floor, robes heaped against the smooth gray stone, and Draco, kneeling over her.

Draco.       

Yeah, she really cared about him.

She could see herself, too. Hermione. Hermione Granger. That was her name. Speaking of herself…she belonged back in her body, didn't she? She was needed there. Her body needed her.

"Draco!" she cried out, and opened her eyes.

The part-moon was watching, casting white light that overshadowed the torches on the walls. Beautiful on Draco's skin. All of a sudden she was looking up at his striking gray eyes and captivating expression. He must have been relieved and delighted, and surprised as well to see her awaken. She was awake and aware again of her two arms and two legs, the weight of her torso and her blinking eyelids.

Hermione tasted blood on her tongue, remnant of – that violet stuff that made her choke and hurt herself. She could still smell it, too, foul in the air. But she was conscious again…

"Hermione," Draco whispered.

"Yes?" she answered, sweetly because she cared about him, and wanted to treat him that way

"Do you know what I've done to you?" he asked. "I've made you a vampire."

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded.

So that's what he was doing when; that's why I'm alive. She understood. And she felt okay; peaceful and strangely acceptant of the fact.

 "I know." And he's weak because of it. Weak because he was trying to save me. And there she was, lying in his lap like a vulnerable child.

"Draco," she said, and pulled him by the nape of his neck to hers. He was tired and succumbed easily to her soft tug. She clutched his head to her neck. Do it, drink, she urged mentally. She wrapped her arms around his neck and urged him to break the skin with his teeth, to let the blood flow from her neck into his mouth.

His lips locked on her neck. It was an intimate connection. Their pulses synchronized amidst the rapid circulation of blood. Her body heat fluctuated from cooler and warmer.

They breathed huskily together, holding on to the delicate embrace.

Are you alright? Are you okay?

I'm fine now

It was a startling moment when they slowly pulled away from each other. Both of them had blood at their mouths, Draco's wrist was still trickling with it, and the wound on Hermione's neck was just fresh. He was cradling her in his arms. But, eventually their breathing would slow, go back to normal… 

~

The minutes seeped by later, Draco stared dazedly at what he had done. Draco hadn't expected to make her into a vampire. He hadn't thought about it or considered it. It had been spur-of-the-moment when she collapsed. The Nundu breath was fatal and Draco was no mediwizard; he couldn't think of another way to save her.

But it was done, and there she was – all the more sensual and real than ever. Every strand of her hair was flowing in its independent beauty. Her eyes danced, glittering like dark topaz. All traces of human flaw were being erased. He found himself fascinated with her smile. It wasn't just a regular smile, it was a brilliant pure joy smile. She was starting to see the world in a different light. The real world, probably, he thought. And she as she grinned, tiny points already budding from her canine teeth.

Draco was sort of glad he was given a reason to do it. He was perplexed with the change. Maybe he had secretly wanted it to happen. Wanted her to become a vampire, too, so they could be more alike.

So they were still both somewhat weak from the mutual blood wounds. And thirsty. Draco pulled his eyes away to think of what and how he would teach her.

The nearest human settlement to Malfoy Manor was a small town. Well, what else was he supposed to do, find some animal to leech?

It was a sparse settlement with fewer people around at night than in downtown Paris or London. They had to wait before a muggle walked by, and Draco caught him. Quickly, he bit down on the thick, blood-rich artery in his neck. "Quiet," he coaxed into the victim's ear. 

Draco took a long, satisfying mouthful of the salty blood before turning to Hermione.

"Drink." He told her. And he watched in trepidation as she carefully, eyes large with concentration, took the man's neck carefully and brought her mouth slowly to the red gash. Imitating Draco, she opened her lips on it and sucked.

"Careful…" Draco warned, as she gulped assertively. "Stop…" he told her, once the victim grow limp. "Drink as much as you want but stop before the heart stops beating."

Hermione stepped back reluctantly. The mortal's body fell stiff, and she let it drop to the ground.

"I can't believe I just did that!" she gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her breathing was heavy and fast.

Then she sighed gleefully, looking rather pleased. 

 "Do we just leave the body there?"

"Yes. Do you want anymore?"

Hermione nodded without any hesitation. She looked so innocently cheerful with what she had accomplished to feel bad that she had just taken a life.

It awed him a little, that ruthlessness.

"Pick one out." Draco said. "They won't notice you if you be discreet. You can make them do what you want, just by willing it."

They waited patiently for another valid muggle to come by. With conscientious skill, she persuaded the victim, this time a young female, to approach them. Hermione acted as an angel to seduce the woman to come closer. The young female could not hold back from such a beautiful woman beckoning her. She submitted quietly.

"Just bite down on the soft part of the neck." Draco was saying.

Hermione nodded, baring her new fangs upon the victim. She was careful to listen to what Draco said – careful to be neat with the whole process.

So this was what it was like. It was like waking up from being blind. The world was different. The edges of every shape and color were beautiful – looking up, they were living inside a midnight jewel, the trees were colored with watercolor, and Draco was the artist's self-portrait amidst it all.

The blood tasted sweet and good in her mouth as she drank from the artery of the young muggle woman. The delicious fluid flowed straight into her throat, pumped from the heart.

Oh, but wait. I'm being rude.

"Do you want any?" Hermione asked Draco considerately, looking up.

Draco laughed, strands of his blond hair waving as he stood over her protectively.

"Really – you've lost a lot of blood," Hermione insisted. The warm skin promised life. And the victim - the woman was almost obedient under Hermione's soothing fingers. Hermion motioned Draco over. They both came to press their lips on the fleshy surface. She heard the victim whimper as Draco's fangs, too, pierced her neck. Together the two vampires lapped at the innocent skin, their lips so close they were half kissing, half sharing the blood as they drained her at the same time.  

Reluctantly, they let go of the body before it weakened to death. Hermione had to grin at Draco in all the fearful glory that it was. She took his hand, fondling his fingers with her thumb. She stared fascinated with the skin of his long, bright fingers. And her own hand – she held it up in front of her, marveling at the sudden change in its appearance. Her color of her skin was paler, a more translucent version of its old hue. Her fingernails were clear and crystalline, and even the creases on her knuckles seemed perfect.

"My fingers…" she trailed. 

"Your body changes," Draco said. "Partially dying. You'll gain a lot of advantages. There are a lot of other things you can do. Mostly just your magical powers enhanced. If you tried to curse me now, I probably wouldn't be able to dodge it."

Hermione smiled. "Okay. This is weird. My body is…doing something to itself."

"I suppose it should," Draco said. "I don't think curses will hurt you as badly. Neither will most other physical hazards."

"Nothing can?"

"Light from the sun can hurt you. And fire." Draco said. "I know that much."

"Light from the sun…so what do we do in the daytime?"

"Sleep." Draco answered. "In a coffin traditionally, but any safe space without light will work."

Hermione welcomed this useful new information with relish. "How did you know all this? Who…did to you what you did to me…?"

Draco arched an eyebrow at the question. "Well, there isn't so much love between them and I."

She nodded understandingly. 

"You learn quickly." He observed of her. He shook his head fondly.

For the first time, Hermione knew she was seeing Draco as a whole for the first time. She had seen fragments of him, large pieces of a broken picture, but never all at once. He could be the bastardly teenage boy from school. He could the ruthless Slytherin, raised to be as ambitious and merciless as he needed to serve his own purpose. But now she could easily see under these aspects of character – he was, if he chose to be, fully capable of loving someone.

She smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you." 

Draco ran his fingers through her hair. "I didn't know I'd have to do this."

"Well, what's so bad about it?" Hermione asked.

Draco didn't say anything. "I'd better find you a place to sleep."

~

It was drawing close to morning, so they had to find somewhere to sleep. There were halls and halls of rooms in the wings of Malfoy Manor. Some of them contained large, heavy chests – mostly for decoration purposes. There was an especially large one, heavy with some artifacts and heirlooms put there for storage. Draco cleared them out.

"You should sleep together with me…for this time."

She smiled, agreeing. Draco wanted to just run his fingertips over the smoothness of her cheeks. Every contour of angelic skin, the lips colored like Persephone's pomegranate seeds, the long, thick eyelashes shading her eyes. And those beautiful fledgling fangs.

As if she wasn't already the most beautiful person in the world. Being a vampire became her.

Draco took Hermione around the waist and let her step inside with him. She naturally, fearlessly, put her arms around his neck and leaned on his chest. He closed the lid over them.

No time to think, no time to consider.

Just to rest, for the time being. 

Draco listened for a while just to the sound of her breathing and let himself enjoy being able to wrap his hands closely around her body…

When Draco could sense that it dark outside again, and pushed open the lid of the large chest.

"Can I get up?" Hermione murmured quietly.

"Yes," Draco took her by the hand and pulled her up. In the bluish light, her eyes and skin shone like a porcelain doll. Her complexion looked more like Ankar's or Bardot's or Cho Chang's than it ever had her own.

"Should we go and get a drink?" she asked happily.

~

Half and hour later, they had gone back to Paris. Hermione had suggested it; there would be more people there.

They fed off muggles, street people. They took two, and shared them together. He remembered exactly what they looked like – the first was a black-haired woman and the second was a skinny, dirty-skinned man. They were young, if not impoverished. Both were twitchy and clumsy-footed, really. Ironically, Draco felt a twinge of pity while Hermione showed no mercy. She applied herself easily to the rules – she simply did what she thought she should.  

Right. Other thoughts still came to mind, though. Was he going to talk to Ankar? What did he say about Bardot allying with Voldemort? Damn Voldemort. He was a nuisance. If anything, the Light Side had a good point there. 

"Hermione, I'm going to go meet some people. Other vampires." Draco said.

Hermione licked the last essences of blood from her tiny fangs. "I'll come. Are they the ones you knew? Your creators, I mean?"

"Uh-huh." Draco answered. He did the Binding Charm again, and Apparated them both to the base of the Eiffel Tower. 

"We're back here again." Hermione said happily. She marveled interestedly at their surroundings.

"Hermione - I…didn't think you would be coming." Draco told her. "I didn't know –"

Just then, two other figures appeared.

Draco cringed.  

"Draco." One of them said. It was Ankar. 

"Draco, it's good to see you again. Who is your friend?" asked Bardot boldly.

Ankar surveyed Hermione over. "You've made her one of us."

Draco tightened his grip on Hermione's waist.

Ankar looked serious, but changed his expression back to a gracious smile. "Hermione," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "It is my pleasure to meet you."

Hermione smiled politely, looking only slightly intimidated.

Bardot sneered at them both. "Don't put that show on, Ankar. She's so young! And you're only a fledgling yourself, Draco! You fool."

Draco's insides flared with anger. Did they even know the situation under which he had to do it?!

He shot Bardot a menacing glare. "I'm not the one dealing with Lord Voldemort. A mortal."

Bardot smiled annoyingly. "And weren't you once his faithful servant?"

"You're the goddamn fool!" Draco spat.

"My, my, you've changed, Draco." Mocked Bardot.

Draco's temper was flinching. "You're going to serve a mortal? What are you going to do? Become his handmaid?"

"I can give him what I have – the Book, help, knowledge. We have what he wants – immortality. There is power to be gained, Draco."

"Why the hell would you want power for? I thought you didn't want to have to do with mortals. And he doesn't need your help."

"Ha! Don't speak so easily of things you don't understand!" Bardot cackled.

Hermione squeezed Draco's hand discreetly, edging closer to him. 

Then Ankar interrupted. "Why did you make her into one?" Directing their attention back to the young girl vampire.  

"I've met you before…" Hermione said abruptly. "I think I've seen you before…"

Draco ignored them to continue arguing with Bardot. "What are you doing with these mortals for? You don't care about them."

Bardot ignored his comment. "Just tell me one thing. How do I find him and his Death Eaters?"

The Dark Mark, Draco thought, immediately reminded of the brand on his forearm.

Bardot's eyes flashed. As if he could read minds, he grabbed Draco's arm and pulled up the sleeve of his robe. He touched the burning mark and Apparated very quickly.

"Damn!" Draco cursed, as Bardot vanished.

Ankar looked knowingly at Draco and at Hermione. "If it so concerns you so much, then stop Bardot. There is damage to be done."

"If Voldemort somehow does get made a vampire, his power is going to multiply." Draco muttered. "It's going to screw up the world."

"I should tell Harry and the others," Hermione said, looking to Draco.

Draco paused. "Your skin looks a lot pinker from this angle now. You look more like before." 

"Wait – don't let her go yet," Ankar instructed. "Draco, give the Talisman."

Draco suddenly remembered the Talisman Ankar had given him, that laid unworn in his robe pocket.

"Are you sure?" he asked suspiciously.

"I swear it will protect you," Ankar promised solemnly. "Let her wear it."

 "If you're against what Bardot's doing, why don't you stop him yourself?" Draco asked suspiciously.

Ankar looked thoughtful. "I would not fight him, and I could not defeat him if I did. He is my closest companion, and what he seeks is beyond my right to challenge."  

Draco scowled and held the little white necklace out uncertainly.

Hermione took it from his hands, and clasped it behind her neck. It was the first time that Draco had seen her wear jewelry of any sort.

"It's quite pretty," she said, smiling.

~

Hermione was running back again. Again.

Into St. Mungo's and searching for Harry.

So she didn't want to see them dead, okay? From Voldemort taking over the world with new powers.

Hermione found she could move fast – very fast. Almost fast enough so that people couldn't notice. She raced down several halls until she saw him.

 "Harry!" she yelled. Then stopped, making sure to keep her teeth unnoticeable.

"Hermione, where have you been?" Harry asked her. "You just ran off like that –"

"This is very important. Voldemort is going to turn himself into a vampire."

"What – what?" Harry blinked. "But, that's impossible. I have the book."

"There's another one. A vampire gave it him, whose name is Bardot. And if you don't stop him from helping Voldemort, this war will be over."

Harry paused. "How do you know this?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Just do something about it!" Hermione screeched at him.

Harry sighed. "What do I do?"

"Just come with me."

"Okay, let me tell Dumbledore."

Harry left and Hermione turned the other way. And ran into Ron. 

"Hermione? Where have you been?" Ron asked, grabbing a hold of her arm.

"Nowhere – I mean, somewhere." Hermione said quickly. She gave Ron an innocent look and made sure to keep her teeth covered again. "Do you have any idea how worried you make us when you go running off alone for days like that?" Ron asked hotly.

"I'm sure, Ron, I'm sure." Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron? Worried? My ass.

"Hermione! You can't do that! You're not a little kid and – "

"Yeah! And you fucking sound just like your mother!" Hermione snapped at him. "It's my business."  

Ron recoiled at her words. His face purpled, the tiny hairs on his chin twitching.

"Why couldn't you just tell me what the hell you're doing then!" he yelled.

Hermione's temper burned inside. How was she supposed to explain? And how was he supposed to understand?

"Draco!"

Draco turned around. "Is Potter coming?" he asked. 

"Yes. I told him to. What about…Voldemort – and Bardot?"

"There'll be a dangerous clash of enemies tonight." Draco said darkly. 

Hermione kissed him. "Maybe after this war is over, we can go back to our real world."

Draco didn't say anything, but a hand on her neck and ran his thumb over her lips and fangs. "I have no idea how it came to this." He said quietly. 

"The war…this will all be over soon. It's going to end, and then we can go and do whatever we want." Hermione said optimistically. 

"You're more Gryffindor than I thought – not afraid of anything." He said tiredly.

Hermione gave him a sheepish smile.

Draco shook his head. "Come on. If we don't get going, hell is going get raised without us."

~

Hermione and Draco found themselves in Malfoy Manor, with Harry, Ron and Dumbledore.

"Draco Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked.

"It's you!" Ron accused.

"It's my house, Weasley, what do you expect?" Draco asked incredulously.

Ron gaped furiously at Draco.

"Hermione…" Harry started.

"Hermione – once and for all I want to know what's going on!" Ron stormed. "I don't understand what is going on with you! You bring us here with Draco Malfoy?"

"I came to bring Harry and Dumbledore, I didn't ask you to come!" she retorted sharply.

"Draco –" Dumbledore said with amazing calmness. "Do you care to explain your part in all this?"

"Lord Voldemort is going to turn himself into a vampire tonight." Draco said dryly. "Are you interested in stopping him?" 

Ron looked enraged. Harry's expression was unreadable, though he was eyeing Hermione and Draco in a funny way. Draco had on a grim, sarcastic expression at the irony of the situation. Even Dumbledore looked bemused.

"Let's go down to the dungeons." Hermione said quickly.

As soon as they reached the entrance to the dungeons, the atmosphere changed.

A wave of negative, uneasy magic was in the air. Hermione noticed Ron, Harry and Dumbledore shiver with the momentum of the dark energy. 

Draco, what is it? Hermione asked.

It's the dark magic. He answered.

"Use your Shielding Charms," Dumbledore commanded them.

They quickly obeyed.

So they could see the ritual.

This chamber of the dungeon was a plainly decorated stone room of average size. Lights danced all about the otherwise dark walls from the cauldron in the center of the room. Incantations were gnashed and hissed as Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue. The table was dark and stained crimson. The Dark Lord read the spells furiously, a large open spell book in front of him. A fuming cauldron emitted violent flames and violet, red and green flashes of light circled the room like multi-colored fireflies.

"Tom Riddle, performing his teacher's work." murmured Harry.

Hermione heard Ron murmur about the smell the potion ingredients. It must be making him sick. The air was blurry from the mercury toxins. 

Look, it's Bardot, Draco observed.

I see him, Hermione answered.

Indeed, kneeling on the ground was a figure they recognized as Bardot.

Voldemort's rapid cursing heightened to a climax. He pulled off his robes, leaving a raw, naked upper body. He kneeled on the table. Bardot stood up ceremoniously and dipped a ladle into the flaming cauldron.

"If he touches that potion, he is going to complete that spell. He's going to become immortal." Draco said quietly. 

"What do we do? Do we attack?" Harry whispered.

"I am," Draco said fiercely.

A streak of light passed Hermione's eyes from Draco's wand. It ricocheted near to Voldemort's prostrate body, bouncing off a Blocking Charm and split into a spark of magical light.

Hermione took out her wand and sent a curse towards the same spot. No effect.

But now they had his attention. As well as Bardot's.

The vampire's eyes flashed angrily at the five bystanders.

All at once Harry, Ron and Dumbledore fired their own curses at him.

In a blink of the eye Bardot dodged out of the way, too fast for the three mortals to see.

"Watch out!" Hermione shrieked, and she sent a spell at Bardot. They were of nearly equal speed, but she missed.

"Ahh!" Ron cried out. He fell onto her knees, clutching his eyes.

It was the heavy chemical magic in the air.

Harry was choking hard and collapsed on the floor. Dumbledore masked his entire face with a thick bluish magical shield, obviously more experienced than his two students.

The wizened old wizard was fighting, too, to the best of his abilities. Hermione still admired the skill Dumbledore had in wizard's dueling. Even though she, Draco and Bardot had the unnatural speed, Dumbledore was still the guru of magic.

Harry, Ron. Hermione thought. She conjured a reflective shield for them.

Draco and Bardot were sending curse after curse on each other, none of them hitting but still missing by dangerously small intervals and searing the dungeon walls.

Just then Hermione watched in the corner of her eye, Voldemort lift the ladle out of the burning cauldron by himself –

Draco!

Draco turned. "No! Stop Voldemort first!" he yelled. "Don't let – "

Hermione shot an Immobilization Spell at him, but it was too late.

The burning liquid fell on Voldemort's body, and immediately it mutilated.

Twisting, grotesquely, the skin changed and singed. The whiteness of his bare shoulders were burnt and blistered, peeling off horrifically. His snake-like mouth slit into an agonizing screaming hole, his blood-red eyes bulging out of their sockets. 

Would he die? Did he accidentally cause his own death?  

Hermione saw Draco stare in shock, and Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore stand helplessly.

Then, the most shocking thing of all happened. Like a molting lizard, the layer of Voldemort's blistered white skin peeled completely off and lay there in a heap, and he climbed out of it. Tall, handsome and youthful, it was Tom Riddle.

Without the deathly white exoskeleton he had created for himself, it was the human Voldemort.

He was so handsome when he smiled like that to them. He did look like Harry, Hermione decided. Except that Harry had soft, almost sleepy eyes, whereas Riddle's eyes were all-powerful and scarily intelligent. They bore into you sharply, as if you could never hide anything from his glare.

It was a miracle. Hermione had never seen Tom Riddle in person, but she knew he was real at that moment, a terrible, terrible miracle of magic.    

"He's done it. He's created himself immortal." Draco said softly.

Yes, I have done it at last. It is finally finished. I am Lord Voldemort, the resurrected and undying!

Subtle panic pounded in the back of Hermione's consciousness, but she was too frozen to the spot. They were all watching in awe, as the beautiful young man who had just appeared calmly picked up his wand. 

" Avada Kedavra!"

Only it wasn't just a single jet of green light. It was a huge projection that filled the room.

No one had time to dodge it or even scream. It was far too fast, too powerful.

And all of a sudden, for the second time in two nights, Hermione was knocked right out of her body.

Draco!

Hermione! Can you hear me?

I can, I can! Where are you?

Draco was floating in the air, too, a wispy and transparent image. Just as she was, probably also.

We're not dead, Draco said.

Look! Hermione screamed in her mind.

Sprawled on the ground were the Harry, Ron and Dumbledore. Harry's eyes and mouth were open in a shocked expression. Ron was lying face forward. Dumbledore was fallen stiff, propped up against the wall.

They're dead?

No! Hermione screamed. Dread filled her. They can't be! Why aren't we dead? Our bodies are down there, too!

And there they were – she, Draco and Bardot, lying on the ground. She was looking at herself! Her eyes, white and rolled up in their sockets and her mouth open, revealing the vampire fangs that were her own. Is that me? I look different.

We're not dead, Hermione! Draco yelled. We can't be! We can go back to our bodies.

This is all your fault, Draco! It was Bardot. It was not your business! Hermione suddenly saw him, too, a cloudy blur floating with them at the ceiling of the dungeon.

God damn you! Draco yelled angrily. You started this idiocy, you –   

Why did you have to interfere!?

You should have known! Lord Voldemort doesn't keep promises to his supporters!

Hermione could feel Draco and Bardot's emotions. Their feelings were shared, free-floating thoughts in meta-space.

Whirring. She longed for something solid, something real to hold onto. She was nothing but feelings and vision.

Draco, let's go back to our bodies!

Yeah, yeah, you're right, he replied. Will yourself to do it.

Hermione concentrated hard on the view of her slumped body, concentrated on moving towards it.

Draco, are you doing it?

Yes, hold on, we'll make it…

There was a sensation like falling into the surface of water. A change of atmosphere, she broke into the solidity of her body. A thousand physical feelings – pain, pleasure, sound, light, smell – passed through her at once.

~

She coughed, and opened her eyes.

She had returned to her body.

"Draco," she sputtered, sitting up.

Oh good, she thought. It is so much better to have a body. She moved her fingers and legs, feeling cleaner and happier than ever to have limbs. Thank goodness that her body was functioning perfectly.

"Hermione?" Draco said. He sat up also.

Draco had never looked so un-vampire-like at that second. Not since Hermione knew him to be one. He looked – unprotected, plain, stripped of his power.

They were scared.

"Are you okay?" he asked, panting.

"I don't know what happened." Hermione told him.

She dragged herself over to where the three mortals lay motionlessly. "Are they dead?" she gasped. She tugged on Dumbledore's sleeve, shook Harry's shoulder. Her vampire sense told her that their hearts weren't beating.

"I – but what if – they could come back – like we did?" she whispered.

Draco looked doubtful.

"What if…" the next thing Hermione knew, she was choking on dry sobs.

"I – " she began again.

"Bardot – " Draco cried.

Bardot was coming back, too, getting up on all fours like a sleeping predator awakening. Hermione froze, instantly jumped for her wand.

His face was clouded and shadowed. He crawled towards them, a dangerous glare in his eyes and his teeth bared savagely like an animal.

"Why did you have to interfere?" he hissed mournfully. He stared so hatefully at Draco, Hermione backed away in fear.

Her head whirred with overload of trauma.

How did it come down to THIS?

"Don't – " she whispered at Bardot. "Please, no…"

"And you." Bardot said harshly, turning to her.

Hermione tightened her grip on her wand.

"Do you know what you've done?" Bardot whispered treacherously.

"Do you know what you've done?" Draco spat back at him.

"No, please, don't argue…" Hermione begged, covering her face in her arms.

"You don't know what I was doing! You had no idea what was going on!" Bardot wailed. "You were a mistake, Draco!"

Hermione wanted to get far, far away from Bardot. She wanted to look away. From the disgusting, pathetic heap he had become. She wanted to block out his wailing…

He was arguing with Draco still. They were yelling at each other, tiresomely over a mistake that couldn't be undone.

"Damn it," Hermione whispered. "Draco…don't fight…"

"You'll both have your turn," Bardot sneered.

And a searing pain hit Hermione in the shoulders and she was flung onto the wall behind her. Like two white-hot knives below her collarbones, they pinned her there. Two more hot knives pinned her wrists outstretched beside her, and two more on her ankles.

The back of her head smashed against the stone. She screamed, from the shock and the burning pain.

Draco! She screamed in her head. She knew the same was happening to him.

"You can't fucking do this!" Draco yelled, enraged at Bardot.

"Can't I?" challenged the wrangled vampire that was staring madly at them. 

"Goddamn, I – " Draco cursed. Hermione saw him force his arm out from the white saber that held it onto the wall. The blood spurt to the ground. She felt the sudden burst of indescribable pain in his arm.

"Ahh," she moaned.

A magical force snapped Draco's wrist back to its place on the invisible crucifix.

"You can't escape that way," Bardot sneered, laughing hysterically.

"Don't – you – dare –" Draco forced himself to say.

"Oh, but I do," Bardot said wildly. "Goodbye."

And he was gone.

Hermione closed her eyes and bit into her tongue. Her body sagged under the intensely aching stab wounds in her limbs. She heard Draco cursing and struggling to force his arms and legs free. She felt it every time he tore his ankle out of its constriction.

"It won't work," she said weakly.

Draco stopped, his breath fast and ragged.

"My wand…" she mused. "I can't reach it."

"How did I let him get away?" Draco brooded upon himself. "How did…"

"It's not your fault, stop it!" Hermione shrieked at him. "Please."

But she could hear his thoughts, his angry disappointment at failure.

Harry, Ron and Dumbledore are dead.

How could it come to this?

Draco, will we die if Bardot doesn't come back and undo this spell?

"How could it come to this?" he breathed. 

"It's okay," Hermione told him. "We have to get out eventually…"

Too tired, too exhausted from the constant pain, Hermione began to fall into a bittersweet peace. If she had been alone, she would've been scared, but Draco was there and it seemed to be alright. She murmured a few words of comfort to him as the night dragged on.     

Draco was in deep agony; Hermione could feel that. He was still struggling a bit, still desperately trying to think of a way out.

I'd rather be here with you than somewhere safe without you, she said to him.

Draco turned his head to look at her, even though he was still spiked onto the wall by his bloodied shoulders and wrists.

"Hermione – the sky is getting lighter," he whispered.

The only windows that reached the underground dungeon were the two tiny ones at the height of the walls. From there, the sky could be seen.

And so it was. The light was turning bluer as the sun approached. New panic and fear filled them, and Hermione could feel Draco struggling to get free with renewed energy.

"It won't help!" Hermione said hoarsely to him.

"We have to find some way," Draco said.

Slowly, the dawn grew closer.

"We have to," Draco insisted. Hermione winced as he struggled at the skewers over and over again, and she felt the sharp stabs in her own wrists and shoulders.

"Draco – please stop. It's not helping, and it's hurting both of us," Hermione pleaded.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. He stopped. "Sorry…"

"Will we die?" Hermione murmured. 

"Dammit!" Draco yelled again, and started to thrash violently against the wall. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" he cursed.

"Draco!" Hermione cried. "It's okay, stop!" 

Much quicker now, the light shining in on the dungeon wall was not just blue but slightly pink. Eventually, the sun would come over the horizon; real sunlight and not just colored dawn rays and would get through the small dungeons windows. .

Draco was deeply uneasy.

"It's okay," Hermione told him. "Really…"