It all happened in a matter of seconds.
Hermione forced the door open, expecting to find Pansy dead, or worse. Finally, it seemed, her suspicions about doing something as dismally stupid as going undercover among bunch of Slytherins had been confirmed. She held her wand in front of her, reflexes tense, quite ready to curse whoever or whatever she saw. What she did see, though, stunned her beyond her most horrific imaginings. Pansy was locked in a quite passionate embrace with the man that had spilled wine upon her earlier, and they both looked up as the man pulled away from kissing her neck. Hermione's eyes went wide.
"Hermia!" Pansy shrieked, re-adjusting her dress. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her blue eyes piercing daggers into the other girl. Hermione shook her head in disbelief.
"I- I heard you scream." she stuttered, slipping her wand back into her robes. Pansy blushed a deep shade of red.
"Well, as you can see, I'm quite fine-"
"Who are you?" Hermione directed towards the man Pansy had been with, surprised at her own rudeness. He seemed to be unaffected by it.
"Adrian Alston." He said with a smile, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. He must have been, upon reflection, far older than she had at first thought he was- his hands were wrinkled, calloused with work. His face at first glance seemed kind- innocent, almost, with wide blue eyes. But upon closer inspection they held a crueler tint, one Hermione did not want to explore. She shuddered, strangely revolted by his touch.
"And what about Alec, Pansy?" she asked, turning towards the girl she thought she'd begun a friendship with- it seemed Pansy was far different from what she'd thought. She should have known never to trust the Slytherin girl.
"Oh, Alec is just a child, with a puppy love crush on me-"
"He's older than you-"
"And that is entirely irrelevant, Hermia." Pansy finished harshly. "Now if you've nothing else to say to me, could you give us some time alone? I'll be up to dinner in a few minutes."
Hermione nodded, too stunned to reply, and backed out the door to the study. What- what was going on? Why would Pansy betray Alec… with a much older man, no less? It just didn't make sense. She sighed, slumping down against one of the walls in the corridor. She was stupid to have thought that the Slytherins were like other kids their age- stupid to believe Draco when he said his friends were not much different from her own. She could be in Scotland right now, with Ginny and Harry and Ron… she crossly wiped a hot tear away from her cheek, shaking her head when it came away black. Pansy had insisted on using the kind of makeup that smeared- she said it made mysterious looking rings under one's eyes. How could she have been so wrong?
"What's the matter, child?" came a rasping voice from above her. She turned and looked up, to find she had collapsed under Carden's painting. She shook her head.
"I'm afraid- I'm afraid I can't tell you." She said softly, sinking to her knees. Carden smiled, baring her fangs again.
"Whyever not? Do you think I'd have anyone to tell? I know, dear child, you're not the type- and truly, neither was I."
"Not the type?" Hermione asked, her eyes beginning to clear. The slightly older woman shook her head, rearranging herself on her chair.
"I, of course, was born into the family… but when I was bitten at fourteen, they disowned me quicker than I ever could have expected. It had happened before, you know- being bitten and not killed- and many families simply sent their children to the containment ward at St. Mungo's. Lord, it was an awful place! They fed them blood from banks, and it drove them so mad they were forced to bite each other. But most families didn't have the heart to kill their loved ones." she sighed, her eyes growing dim. "Neither did mine, sadly, and I forever wish they had."
"You wanted to die?" Hermione asked.
"Let me finish, dear. I can sense you're rather quick- quicker than most girls that have passed through here, at any rate- though I'm not sure how much you know about vampires. Very little, I suppose- all the 'factual information' on us these days is mostly myth. Stakes, garlic, crosses… all untrue. The only way to kill a vampire is to decapitate it, which is what my family did… or my cousin, rather.
My cousin's name was Parkinson, and our families were very close. I do believe the girl that passed held a bit of him in her…" at Hermione's nod, she sighed. "So the bastard did live, I see. It was my cousin who bit me- he was a vampire first. He was older than me, but only slightly, and I wanted so badly to be one of his contemporaries- they had formed a group, him and his friends- Nott, Zabini, Crabbe… I remember them all. I thought them so brave, at the time- cunning, ruthless, and powerful- everything the Malfoy name stood for. He was the pride and joy of our two families, the heir, and favorite son."
With a nostalgic sigh, she settled herself on the chair, wrapping a black cloak around her thin shoulders. She spoke as if she hadn't spoken to someone for years…
"He was bitten at twenty-three… by a woman, no less, which was forever his shame. He easily hid it from our family- they were well used to him being out nights and bringing home girls they never saw again in the morning. His lifestyle seemed no different. He would only bite women, weakling that he was…. his friends knew of his condition, and helped him to lure them in. Not that they needed him. They stuck by him partly through fear, and partly through willingness to be near power. My cousin was strong, evil and brilliant- everything they could have wanted in a leader.
He had always held an unnatural fascination with me, one my parents and his parents found quite disturbing. They tried to keep us apart as much as possible… though even they could not control him, in the end." Her eyes grew distant at that, a look that reminded Hermione faintly of Moaning Myrtle. "He came for me in the night- All Hollow's Eve, in fact… poetic, no? He said he was going to take me to a ritual that they were performing- a dark magic ritual, to impress his father. I agreed readily. Nothing meant more to me than the approval of my own father.
I trusted him. I trusted him even in the darkness of the forest, even alone, even where no one could hear my screams. And he bit me- took my life, and my innocence. If, dear child, you've ever heard the myth that we lose our souls when we become vampires- it is quite untrue. It may be easier for a Malfoy to kill to feed themselves- we are ruthless as it is, or so the story goes. Perhaps, dear child, the killing alone would not have driven me mad- were it not for my father.
When I returned, I was bleeding profusely, bite marks on my neck. My parents had surmised where I had gone, and they knew that I had been bitten- they never, though, had the stomach to suspect my cousin. They thought he had taken me somewhere dangerous where I had been bitten by my own foolishness, never that he could have bitten me himself. He was their golden nephew, after all. The future of our two families. I dared not disagree. I dared not protest. My father wouldn't even look at me.
They fashioned a room, up in the highest tower of the house. It had formerly been an observatory, but they turned it into a prison- fashioned new walls of lodestone, took my wand, and made it quite impossible for me to escape. Every week they would bring me a peasant- a Muggle, from the town near the manor. That was my only source of nourishment, and I soon grew far too weak to even dream of escaping, or revenge.
My father brought a painter in, to make a new portrait of me. He would have liked to pretend I didn't exist, but far too many knew of me, and it meant my likeness needed to join the hall of my family, even in my state. I waited until the painter was done with my portrait before feeding off him- I suppose my father had never thought of that. Thus I escaped, weak though I was, using his wand and what little strength I had.
I had cast the spell for any of my likenesses to be able to protect themselves years ago. I knew I would live on, somehow." she laughed. "You cannot imagine the look on my father's face when I appeared at the top of the staircase- though it was nothing to match the once-handsome face of my cousin. Another day I could have fought him- when I was not so weak. But he killed me, Hermia, and my soul flew to this painting. For I cast another spell that day. I cursed myself, in that whoever wished to could revive me, back into my former body. I see that it is hopeless now- but I am glad of my consciousness. Glad of this half-life. For it is better than hell, where any vampire would go." Her voice was almost cheery at that point.
The two radically different women sat in silence for a moment, Carden contemplative, and Hermione stunned. The latter wasn't surprised to feel tears well up in her eyes- Lord, the unfairness of it all. To be a woman, and to live among such evil- to be a simple girl, and be known as part of that evil. To feel evil inside of you, to feel it as you fed on other lives, no matter how much you despised them… she buried her head in her hands, resting in on her knees, unable to think further. She heard Carden sigh.
"Do not cry, my dear. Brown eyes look awful tinged with red."
Hermione sat up straight.
"Brown eyes?"
The vampire laughed, stretching out on the chair with an indulgent yawn.
"Of course. I do still have powerful magic, you know? It is quite simple to see into your soul, Miss Hermione Granger, though there are certain parts of your story I yet long to know. Will you share it with me?"
"Er- Miss Malfoy- I'm afraid I can't-"
"Carden- and don't be silly, dear girl. I shan't tell a soul. Who would ask, anyway? If you do duly wish for the secret to be kept- perhaps you can make me Secret-Keeper?" Hermione's eyes widened. Could she trust this woman? She was a Malfoy, and a vampire no less- she could have made up every word she'd spoken in the past few minutes. But she couldn't believe that, no matter how skeptical she tried to force herself to be. Carden had to be telling the truth. She was perfect, but not too good to be true. Perfect indeed.
"Get comfortable." Hermione said, with a deep sigh. She slid down against the wall, shivering at the feeling of the rough plaster against her bare back. "This will probably take a long time."