Chapter notes:

An apology to all the vampire purists: cold doesn't do it for me. So in this world, vampires have a pulse, sweat, breathe and are a toasty 98.6.

Also? No sparkling.

Chapter 3

Draco's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Do you still want to be a vampire?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open. "What?"

He was sitting up now, splattered with blood, and leaning back against the wall with his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes were half shut in a post-coital, post-feeding bliss.

"You were almost there, so I pulled away. Although I could imagine nothing better than…" He stared down at her, swallowed, and seemed to be reconsidering his words. "My alternative was death, otherwise, it's not something that I would have chosen. You'll be more powerful, but you'll…"

In disbelief, she watched shame grace his face. He looked down at his hands and said, "You'll have difficulty controlling yourself… even around those you love."

Was she delirious? With the way that her head was reeling, she just might be.

He looked pained, and continued, "I don't know why you would want this. I think you're making a mistake, but I can deny you nothing."

He leaned forward, laid his wrist on the floor next to her face and magically opened a small wound for her to drink from.

"It won't take much more. I can feel you on the edge of transformation already. Your body will heal quickly once you do."

Her head was swimming. She couldn't process what was happening. None of this made sense.

"But I—"

"Would you rather suck from somewhere else?" He smirked down at her. And there was the Draco she knew and loved. He was confusing her even further and she felt unable to think clearly.

She struggled to sit while keeping herself covered in the bloody sheet. Draco leaned over to help her and she averted her eyes from his privates. He seemed to be completely at ease sitting naked and splattered with blood—a vampire in his most natural state, she supposed. He wrapped the sheet around her and over her shoulders so that she remained completely covered, and tenderly propped her up against the wall.

Reeling from the blood loss, she struggled to bring her vision into focus. "If you changed me, I could overpower you and leave."

"Is that why you wanted it? I was going to let you leave anyway, after we… after I…" He looked down at his hands, and back up at her. "I didn't think I would hurt you." He made a sound of disgust and turned away.

What was happening? She felt faint, she couldn't think. There were too many things to process right now, and the price of erring was high. Was this a trap? She felt a swift rush of air, and before she completely understood that Draco had disappeared, he had already returned. Several vials filled with a dark blue liquid were in his hands.

Her head lolled and she looked down at them questioningly.

"Blood-Replenishing Potion."

But, of course, and laced with Veritaserum so she would reveal identities, strategies and locations.

"Well played, Malfoy," she slurred.

She'd kill herself before she betrayed anyone. Her vision started to darken and she felt as if she were going to throw up.

"Hermione."

Draco's gray eyes swam in front of her.

"Hermione…" His voice was a caress.

Everything went black.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Again, Granger? There's no point in pretending you're still sleeping. The temperature of your blood and the rhythm of your heart beat tell me when you wake."

Hermione opened her eyes to glare up at Draco, who was smirking down at her. She was cradled in his arms and his hard body shifted underneath her. Thankfully, she was still covered by the sheet, but her body was sticky with all of the dried blood. She felt revitalized, which meant that he must have force-fed her the potion after she passed out.

He was humming, and his fingertips were lightly playing with her hair and massaging her scalp. She shut her eyes, trying to ignore the tingling in her body, and her feelings for him. She couldn't let him mindfuck her. She had to figure out what was happening. Exhaling sharply, she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Did you drug me?"

His expression was impassive. "No."

Through it all, he hadn't lied to her yet. Even if he had put Veritaserum in the potion, and told her so, there wasn't anything that she could do about it.

"Ask me something." She wanted to be certain.

"How many times did you come?"

She sat up and turned around to face him.

Still sated, still no fangs. Still smirking.

Truth be told, she had no idea how many times she came, but she had no compulsion to tell him that, which meant that…

It was as if she'd been on a roller coaster that just came to an abrupt halt and sped off in the opposite direction. She studied his eyes, which despite his lecherous smirk, were reflecting the longing she felt towards him.

"You'd honestly let me go?"

His smirk fell and his voice softened.

"You know I would."

God help her, she didn't ever want to leave him. Hot tears began to sting her eyes. So too, did Draco's become luminescent in their intensity. He looked as if there were several things that he wanted to say to her, but there was no need. She understood him, she always had.

"I wish…" he took a steadying breath, "I wish that things were different for us."

Reaching out from underneath her sheet, she clasped his hand. He looked down, and slowly exhaled. Delicately, he encased her hand in his, taking whatever she would offer.

"I love you too, Draco."

At her admission, he gave a slow, sad smile. She threaded her hand through his hair and brought his head to rest in the crook of her neck.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Draco was bent over on the floor in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. His body repeatedly shuddered with sobs that he couldn't control, and they echoed off the tiles. The never ending panic and helplessness had taken such a toll on his mental and physical state that he had no control over either, and simply needed release. The tears had long since stopped flowing, but the pain in his chest kept him heaving and retching.

He hadn't heard anybody enter due to the violence of his distress; he had locked the door and glamorized it to look as if there were repairs being made to keep intruders out. Therefore, the feel of a gentle pressure from a small hand on his back surprised him.

He didn't think much about who it was, only that there was another soul with him in his loneliness and desperation. So when the hand slid to his shoulder in an effort to cradle him, he allowed his body to be guided to a kneeling position and he laid his head on a warm robe-covered lap. Wanting to be closer, he wrapped his arms tightly around what felt to be a petite girl. Her warmth added a small amount of comfort to his cold isolation.

She lightly stroked his hair and rubbed his shoulders while he continued sobbing. Just wanting to feel the closeness of someone else, anyone else, he clung to her tightly, digging his fingers into her sides. She hummed an unfamiliar melody, interspersed with the occasional "Sssshhhh." Slowly, slowly, the frequency of his heaving lessened until his breathing took on an almost regular cadence, interspersed with the occasional shuddering gasp for air.

Had Pansy followed him into the boys' loo? He had distanced himself from her lately, along with most of his other friends this year.

His eyes felt puffy and they stung, so he rubbed them before looking up. The humming stopped.

Granger.

Sitting on the bench by the bathroom window, her hazel eyes studied him, but the expression on her face was neutral. He was surprised, but too exhausted and defeated to really care about the implications of what was supposed to be his enemy seeing him this way. Furthermore, a hit to his reputation paled in comparison to the far worse problems that he was dealing with.

After it appeared that neither would say anything, she again stroked his hair and resumed her humming. Feeling dumbstruck by her quiet acceptance of him, he slowly rested his head back down, nestling into the "V" of her closed legs. Wanting to get closer, he pressed his chest to her knees, and clutched her body tighter.

If this made her uncomfortable, she didn't say anything, and continued comforting him. He closed his eyes and found himself reaching around her slim body, rubbing small patterns on her back and sides with his fingers. He was reveling in her presence, her stroking, her humming, and the warmth of her body. And yet his heart still ached. The pressure in his chest was still there, as it had been since he'd been given the mission to kill Dumbledore.

"Draco." Her voice was a whisper, barely disturbing the quiet of their half embrace.

He couldn't tell if she was asking him a question or just saying his name to comfort him.

"Draco," she repeated. His given name sounded foreign coming from her.

He rested his chin on the tops of her thighs and looked up. Her eyes were non-judgmental, sympathetic, and… beautiful.

"If this is what it's doing to you," she said as she delicately pushed aside his fringe, "you're on the wrong side."

He was so exhausted that he felt numb and his eyes closed of their own accord.

"I know," he mumbled.

She cupped his cheek and he leaned into her soft, warm palm.

"Please. Talk with Dumbledore."

His throat was dry and hurt from crying and retching. He shook his head.

"Can't," he rasped.

Hermione brushed his cheek with her thumb. He felt a slight residue from his dried tears flake away. She caressed his cheek back and forth lightly, watching the movement. The pad of her thumb traveled over his upper and then lower lip. She pressed her thumb into the soft crease, rubbed it, and then returned to caressing his cheek.

He felt shaken from the intimacy of her gesture and wished that she would do it again. He looked up at her, and her eyes widened in surprise at what she saw in his. She withdrew her hand. It was shaking. Not wanting her to stop touching him, he tightened his grip around her waist.

She stammered, "If - if you're worried about the rest of the—"

There were only two people that he gave a fuck about.

"My parents," he croaked.

She looked at him questioningly. He lay his head back down on her lap. The pain in his chest was beginning to swell again. He shut his eyes tight and squeezed her, causing her to gasp.

"He'll kill us all," his voice was barely a whisper.

At voicing the threat which had been hanging over the Malfoy family since the school year started, and the consequence for failure of an assignment that he was solely responsible for, he found his panic returning. His world was crumbling apart and there wasn't anything that he could do. Everything was out of his control. He ground his teeth together and unwittingly crushed Hermione in his arms. He just wanted to feel something besides despair, to hold onto something so that he wouldn't be so lonely in this cage constructed for him by the Dark Lord.

"Aaah! Malfoy, that hurts!" she protested.

Immediately, he released her waist and crawled up her body. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Draco?" she said, trying to discern his intentions. "What are you doing?"

He gripped the bench, raising himself, grabbed her upper arm with his other hand, completely encircling it with his fingers; he released the bench and laced his fingers into her hair. With a quick intake of breath she gave a panicked glance to his lips.

"Draco?" she whispered. "Draco?" But her eyes were dark and her breathing came in erratic pants. She wanted it, too.

He tilted her face up to his, and before she could say anything else, his mouth descended on hers. She didn't move at first, but when her disbelief melted into responsiveness, warmth encompassed him. He pressed the softness of her body against the hardness of his and she let out a whimper.

He prodded her mouth open with his tongue, pressing and pushing, doing all he could to feel her hot, wet mouth. Massaging, and probing, she in turn explored his mouth, tasting him. He sucked on her bottom lip and she gasped after he nipped her. His head was a whirlwind from the sensations he felt in his body. Releasing her lips, he continued his assault on her neck with increasing passion. Desire completely overcame him, and he pushed her down on the bench and covered his body with his, reveling in the feel of her. She was so soft and warm.

He felt her hands thread through his hair and grip the back of his neck and he let out a gruff moan. Reaching down, she snuck her hands up into his robe to feel his chest through his shirt, digging her fingers into the fabric. He needed her, needed the contact. Panting, he roughly pried her robes open and worked on the buttons of her blouse.

She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders under his robe, trying to bring him closer to her. The hot tightening in his abdomen spread and he pried her legs apart, grinding his erection against the junction of her thighs.

Warm. She was so warm there.

"Draco, wait…" she whispered huskily, and moaned, spurring him on.

She panted and he grabbed her thigh, moving his hand upwards under her skirt and towards her bum. She tried to protest, but he covered her mouth with his. His tongue was inside her again, his mouth devouring her hungrily. All he could think about was being inside her, touching her, feeling her, and he craved her touch in turn. He rocked his pelvis into hers with a steady rhythm that he matched with his tongue gliding in and out of her mouth.

"Draco," she whispered, pulling away, "It's too fast, we have to stop."

He heard her voice, but her protest didn't register. He needed to feel. He needed human contact. Her breasts were soft and she writhed and whimpered when he squeezed them. His fingers reached down again to her bum under her knickers and he dug into the flesh. His thumb wrapped around her thigh and probed for the source of her wetness.

"Aaah! No!"

All he heard was her cry. His kiss intensified and the thrusts of his pelvis became more forceful. His left hand cupped her bum under her skirt, and moved it so that her core would rub against his erection. Every rub sent a jolt of pleasure through his body. He felt hot and full of tense desire all over. He pulled her knickers down. He didn't care if he ripped them off of her. He wanted her. Now.

Suddenly, his head flew to the side and his cheek stung with pain. He froze, and blinked, clearing his vision. He looked down at Hermione below him, rubbing the hand she had slapped him with. Her hair was spread out, she was holding her breath, her lips were swollen, and she was watching him, eyes full of lust and apprehension.

"S-sorry," he said, and blinked again. Her expression turned to one of relief and she straightened her knickers. He backed up slowly, sat on the bench beside her, and ran a hand through his hair.

He held out his hand to her and her eyes studied his palm for a few seconds. Warily, she took it and he pulled her up to a sitting position as well.

"It's too fast," she exclaimed breathlessly.

Draco bent over and held his head in his hands. "I didn't mean to… Hermione… I'm sorry."

They had passed the need for pretenses the moment she chose to stay in the bathroom after discovering him. After a pause in which the only sound was the dripping of a leaky faucet, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye and added, "For everything," and looked down at his feet again.

Another pause, and he heard her voice catch in her throat before she answered, "Thank you."

He turned his head and watched her re-button her blouse. She met his eyes, blushed, and looked to the side.

He motioned to her lap. "Can I…"

Wordlessly, she nodded, and he lay down on the bench in a fetal position, resting his head on her lap. He closed his eyes and let his arm hang over her knees. Still wanting to touch her, he lazily caressed her shins, but allowed himself to go no further, much as he craved her.

They both were silent and again all he could hear was the leaky faucet, and the sounds of their breathing, now deep and even. He felt her fingers return to his hair and he sighed. He wished that the two of them could be someplace else.

"Draco, when you're ready, go to Dumbledore. Come to us. I'll be there for you. Don't forget that."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Come on, Granger, let's get you out of here. Sunrise is in two and a half hours. They'll be here before then to pick you up, and I..." His voice caught and he looked at her from under his fringe. "I don't know how much longer I can be around you."

Her eyes flickered down to his privates. Still limp, for now. He stood, and still holding her hand, pulled her to a standing position. He exhaled and a quick blast of wind told her that he had just used Scourgify on them both. The display of his magic reminded her of what she was missing.

"Where's my wand?"

At her question, she saw his mouth flatten into a line of reluctant acceptance. It wasn't a lifestyle he would wish on anyone, least of all Hermione, but he had hoped. And yet, he knew it was better this way.

"I don't have it. I'm sorry."

He eyed the bloody sheet wrapped around her body.

"What do you usually wear?"

Hermione looked down at herself, seemingly in thought, but ignored his question.

"Draco, what will they do with you?"

"Nothing," he answered. "I'm leaving; they won't find me."

"Where to?"

He looked out the window and into the night.

"It doesn't really matter. Anywhere I can hunt."

"People?" she asked.

"People taste better than animals, wizards taste better than Muggles. You…" he gave her a feral smile, "taste better than anyone I've ever had."

She raised an eyebrow. "So a Mudblood tastes better than a pureblood?"

"Mudbloods, purebloods, half-bloods, they all taste the same. Really, Hermione, do you want to talk politics at a time like this?"

Hermione furrowed her brow.

"I'm just thinking."

She bit her lip and saw that Draco was staring at her mouth. She didn't know how much time she had.

"Would you come with me, then? You'd be an incredible asset with your strength, intelligence, power, and—"

"Hermione," he cut her off, "Given the chance, I'd kill you and enjoy it. Immensely. You've witnessed first-hand how hard it is to control myself, especially around you."

"But what if we could keep your needs in check?"

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And how do you propose to do that?"

There was a pause while she stared up at him, weighing the advantages, weighing the consequences. Forgoing her human life would be a sacrifice, but the two of them would make for a most powerful weapon indeed. Together, they could win. The numerical advantage Voldemort's army had over the Order would be meaningless. It would all be over.

"We could hunt together… hunt animals, that is—" Draco made a face of disgust, but as he realized the implication of her suggestion in its entirety, his eyes widened, and his body tensed.

"—and while out hunting, we could…"

He bent over, almost falling to the floor from the exertion of trying to control himself. "Fuck," he whimpered, as his fangs extended.

"Well, yes," she continued, watching him with a small, devious smile. "And we could restrain ourselves with silver if needed. We haven't even considered the possibilities from working with potions." She began to approach him. "Draco, we can make this work, we can—"

"No, stay over there," he panted. "Just the thought of you…" he visibly shuddered, and continued. "Listen. Hermione. You wouldn't be able to live with your friends. You couldn't have children. No more daylight. Ever. And you couldn't even be with people unless you had fed and…and…" he whimpered and turned around so he wouldn't be facing her.

"Draco…" she called him, lowering her voice seductively.

His voice came out in a threatening rumble, but he refused to turn around. "I have to get away from you, and you have to leave before they come. I can't-—"

She dropped the sheet and it fluttered the ground around her.

With a growl, he reared on her with his fangs bared. His eyes raked in her naked form and she could see his muscles contract as he restrained himself from approaching her. Slowly, she walked towards him. He snarled and backed up against the wall.

"Wait," he rasped, the human in him still trying to convince her otherwise.

Calmly, she picked up the letter opener and closed the space between them. His gray eyes were gleaming with silver, filled with lust, hunger and fear, flicking between the letter opener, her throat, and back up to her eyes. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his fangs with her fingertips. He opened his mouth with a shuddering gasp.

"Give it to me," she whispered.

"Hermione…," he was trembling now. "Please… don't…"

Draco sucked in a shaky breath as she slowly made an incision across his neck and chest. He leaned his head back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking as the skin of her breasts, stomach and legs came into contact with his. He brought his arms up to hold her, clenched his hands in the air, and threw his fists back, denting the wall. His entire body was taught, flattened against the wall and shaking with the exertion of controlling himself.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his rigid form, held on tight, lowered her mouth to the incision, and sucked. Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of her as they crashed to the floor, rolling in a violent embrace.

She held on for dear life, drinking as much as she could. Hermione started to feel small changes in her body, but she didn't stop. Suddenly gasping with surprise, she felt her fangs protrude for the first time. She threw her head back, screamed like a banshee, and sank her teeth into Draco's flesh.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The room was a disaster. It was a mess of upturned furniture, broken glass, torn rugs and other fabrics. The chandelier was reduced to broken shards in the middle of the room, and blood was splattered all over the place. Pieces of the hard wood floor were ripped open, and there were several holes in the walls. Draco peered up at the ceiling where the chandelier should have been. He didn't even remember being up there; how had they managed to do that?

He was naked, sitting with his back against the wall, and purring contentedly. Hermione, equally bare, was lying on the floor, legs stretched out languidly, and resting her head on his lap. He played with a curl of her hair and drew patterns in the blood splattered on her skin.

"How much longer until sunrise?" she asked.

"About a half hour; you'll start to feel it instinctually soon enough."

"Shouldn't we worry about finding a place to hide and rest? They'll be wondering why Goyle hasn't returned with me."

He glanced over at the mangled corpse in the middle of the room and his features flickered with regret.

"There's no rush; it's still night in the United States."

She rose up to stare at him in amazement and his hands fell from her limply.

"You can Apparate to North America?"

"We can Apparate to the dark side of the moon if we wanted."

"Bollocks!" she said disbelievingly.

He pinched her nipple roughly and smirked when she bit her lip with a grunt.

"I've done it."

Hermione said incredulously, "But how did you know you could? You might have killed yourself trying. And there's no atmosphere! And the temperature!"

He gazed back at her, unblinking, and her lips parted in comprehension.

"Oh."

"I was reckless. I didn't care. But, once there…it brought me some peace. It's quiet there, desolate… No Death Eaters, no screaming, no torture, no blood. The view of the earth is even more phenomenal than you can imagine. Although…" he said huskily, contemplating her, "there are far more beautiful sights right here."

She smiled warmly at him, and licked some blood off of his chin. It was Goyle's. He wrapped an arm around her and she nuzzled his neck.

"So we don't have to rest?" she queried.

"We do, but it's possible to go a day or so without. I think that recent events preclude the need for an early bedtime," he said, tugging on a curl playfully.

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Can I send a Patronus from here, or is the manor being watched? I'll need to let the Order know that I'm fine and that I'll be back by sunset."

"I wouldn't recommend it, no. We'll go someplace else to send it." He raised an eyebrow. "How about the sunset after next?"

She pondered this for a moment before smiling devilishly at him. "If you can catch me."

Quick as the wind, she jumped up, ran, leapt off of the third floor balcony and disappeared into the night.

Stretching his limbs and yawning, Draco stood up and leisurely walked out onto the porch. He scratched his torso and sniffed the air around him.

Easy.

He cracked a smile. She still had a lot to learn, but he would have fun teaching her.

Chapter end notes:

Just so you know, I wrote this fic with two different courses of action based on Hermione's decisions. The first, which you're reading now, is that Hermione chooses to become a vampire. The second, which will be a few chapters later and will start at the beginning of this chapter again, is Draco taking her back to the Order as a human.

I figured that way this story can encompass the best of both worlds (vampire/vampire, vampire/human). Hopefully you'll like both.