Malfoy Manor – eight months later
Hermione shrieked and grabbed her wand, firing a spell off at once at one of the masked wizards.
She looked towards the window, but instantly ruled out that possibility – she was, after all, on the third storey.
She ran out of the door and down the hallway, cursing anyone in her way.
But as she turned a corridor, she saw a sight that made her halt altogether, trying to back away so quickly that she fell over.
At the end of the corridor was a man wearing a long jet black robe with flare sleeves and needlessly high collars. He was fighting the masked wizards, an iron-handled ebony wand in one hand, a bastard sword in the other. His silvery blonde hair swished this way and that with him as he fought expertly, cutting down his foes.
When the last fell, he looked up and saw Hermione on the floor at the end of the corridor.
He walked slowly towards her, sheathing his sword and removing his leather gloves.
"Draco?" she whimpered.
"Hermione," he said in a hoarse whisper.
She then collapsed into his arms, tears flowing down her face.
Draco held her close and shut his eyes, a tear creeping between the crack and running down his pale cheek.
"Where have you been?" Hermione asked, looking up at him.
"I've been with my parents," Draco said with a scowl.
"But… they're…" Hermione said.
"Not in every dimension," Draco said.
"Inter-dimensional travel?" Hermione exclaimed. "That's illegal! That's so illegal!"
"Only for the one who cast the spell. I didn't, and had no prior knowledge, and were therefore not in the wrong. I'm in the wrong in the other world though. It took me months to find out how to send myself back," Draco said.
"What was it like?" Hermione asked.
"It wasn't great. You hated me, I was dead, the ministry of magic was nonexistent and pure-blooded wizards ran everything. I had to join an underground resistance to fight against them just to survive. Believe it or not, in that dimension, my parents were fighting against the oppressors. In fact," he said quietly. "You could meet them."
"What? How? Hermione asked, her tears forgotten.
"They came back with me," Draco said, and at that moment, a tall man with silvery blonde hair, the exact same tone and length as Draco's and wearing a black robe trimmed with red came walking down the corridor, accompanied by a woman about Hermione's height, with hair slightly darker than Draco's or Lucius's. She wore a body-hugging green dress with a matching cape.
"Father, meet my wife, Hermione Malfoy. Hermione… Lucius Malfoy," Draco said. After Hermione and Lucius had shaken hands, Draco continued. "Mother, Hermione Malfoy. Hermione, Narcissa Malfoy."
Hands shook again, and Hermione's stunned look remained. Draco could almost read her mind as she thought I had hoped that when I met the parents I would be wearing more than pyjamas.
"I threw some of those dark wizards to the acromantulas, I hope you don't mind," Lucius said. Draco hid his surprise. In the other realm, this was his fathers house, yet in this one, he was asking if something he did was alright…
"Of course," Draco and Hermione said at once.
"I certainly like your Malfoy Manor more," Narcissa said, looking through random doors.
"Much less rubble," Lucius agreed. "But we had better get to the Ministry. We have to seek Asylum in this dimension or we will be sent back."
With that, Lucius and Narcissa disapparated.
"Hermione," Draco said. "I have something to tell you."
"What is it?" she asked, moving towards Draco.
"Back in the other realm," he began. "Things were in chaos. There was a new breed."
"Of?" Hermione pressed.
"Vampires," Draco said grimly, his eyes growing dark and slightly hazy. She could tell that he was recollecting events. "They were a new breed, made by Voldemort. They were not the Cainites that this realm knows. They were altogether better. They were stronger, faster, more vicious, they can still cast spells and they could even venture into the daylight. There was only one problem. They do not turn everyone they bite into Vampires. It takes a long time, and is generally reserved for stronger mortals. If this ritual is not completed, then the product will be altogether different. "
Hermione could tell that Draco was dragging out the explanation for as long as possible, so she gave him a nudge. "What are you trying to tell me?"
"Me and my father were freeing a group of muggles from imprisonment… I was bitten, and drained of my blood," Draco said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "But before the ritual was complete, my father found us and killed my sire. I am a half breed. What the Vampires have taken to call, ironically… a mudblood."
Hermione looked stunned. "And how has it affected you?" she managed.
"I need blood. Not like a normal Vampire… only every week or so. Normal food can still sustain me most of the time. The redder the better," he added. "I am not the problem. My mind is still human. Sure, I'm a better fighter… I could pick up you and Harry in one arm while dancing the can-can and still have the energy to twirl you between my fingers."
Hermione couldn't help but let a smile flicker across her face.
"But if anyone else finds out, if they got a hold of even the smallest amount of my blood… then it could destroy everything. They could recreate the Vampires in this realm," Draco said. "I'll understand if you want nothing more to do with me."
"Don't be stupid, Draco," Hermione said, putting her arms around Draco. "I love you, and nothing that happens to you, me or anyone else will stop that."
"Well, in that case, this might be a good time to tell you then that I've become very close friends with a bisexual Leprechaun named Hugo," Draco said. "Kidding," he added.
"I know, red hair isn't your thing," she said, rolling her eyes. "Poor Ron."
"Wow, I just realised that I'd completely forgotten about Harry and the Weasleys. How are they?" Draco asked.
"Harry and Ginny are married, Ron married that Scottish lap dancer we met a few years ago. Everyone else is good. Well, Fleur's been complaining a bit about Bill growling in his sleep and then tearing up his pillow, but she always does. Bill just retorts by complaining about her constantly smelling like garlic," Hermione said.
"Potty and Weasel are hitched, eh? How are they liking it?" Draco asked.
"Well, Harry's been stressed out with the whole Auror thing, Ron's stressed out with the whole sports writer thing. They're both just stressed," Hermione finished simply.
"Eh, what else is new," Draco muttered.
One month later
Draco was startled by a scream from the bathroom, and at full tilt into the door, knocking it down as he drew his wand.
Hermione was standing over the sink holding what Draco could only describe as a white stick.
"What the hell is the matter?" Draco said, looking around.
"I'm pregnant," Hermione said.
"Who's whatnow?" Draco said, his expression vanishing altogether.
"I'm pregnant," Hermione repeated, showing Draco the stick-thing.
"It could be wrong," Draco suggested. Hermione handed him the box, and he read the gigantic red letters on the back: "'We're never wrong'. Oh my god."
Without further ado, Draco ran from the room, returning moments later with a hip flask.
"Drink it," he ordered.
"What is it? Why?" Hermione stuttered.
"Drink it or the baby will die," Draco said, his face a picture of the utmost sincerity.
Hermione drank from the flask. "That's revolting."
"Tell me about it. But it's better warm. Finish it," Draco said.
Hermione did as bidden.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Blood," Draco said simply.
Hermione screamed again.
Draco looked ashamed.
"The baby is part Vampire," he said. "If it doesn't get blood, it will die."
"How often?" Hermione asked, horrified.
"As often as I drink it," Draco estimated.