THREE

Thunder clashed loudly out the window, and the trees scratched its way through the windows of Hermione. She felt so vulnerable and lonely, sitting on her bed with a pillow clutched tightly in her arms. The tears have dried up, and she regretted ever leaving him. She had thought of the chances of ever seeing him again, and losing him forever.

She lost him once. She promised herself that she would not lose him again.

She bathed in silence, missing her beloved feline friend. She was alone, and horrified. The slightest of sounds made her jump in fear, and cower behind the safety of her own warmth, under the confines of her silky sheets. Dried tears were etched on her face as she started to rock back and forth.

my fault. all my fault.

A hoot from an owl made her jump, and finally, she broke down onto the floor. Moist tears started to fall, pounding her feet onto the wall-to-wall carpet. She was scared; Her heart was racing in fright, and guilt. She shook in raked sobs, hugging her pillow and finding what's left of the comfort she had. Her cheeks flushed, leaning against the wall and looking up at the ceiling. The power was out, and all she could see was darkness. That slight buzzing sound rang in her ears, and it terrified her.

"Crookshanks..." She sobbed. She was scared, and she wished for company rather than a damp pillow. The wind blew the windows open, making Hermione scream once again. She looked around her, for the windows mysteriously shut back. She cowered by the corner of the room, pulling the sheets from the bed and wrapping it around her. Her throat seemed to be giving in on her, and she found no sound as she let out a horrible scream.

"Hermione, dont be afraid." Her eyes widened as the knowing figure of her best friend appeared from the dark depths of her room, and all she felt now was the wrenching pain and guilt in her heart for leaving him moments ago. She saw his eyes twinkle amidst the darkened atmosphere, and a mere shed of moon light was all it took to illuminate one part of his face. Amidst his severe state, Hermione felt pity.

"Just stay back, Harry. Just dont come any closer." Past images flashed through her mind, and she knew what venom her words brought towards him. He furrowed his eye brows in confusion, but remained still. It was then that the moon shone its utter brightness, that she saw him completely. Gashes all over his body, bruised palms and wrists, tousled black hair; The most gruesome sight she has ever seen.

Harry was in a severely horrible vampire state, and it broke her heart.

Blood trickled from his forehead, down to the side of his neck. He was pale, and the only color left on him was the dried stains of blood randomly patched around his body. A mark glowed on his wrist as he clenched his fists tight. Hermione was left bewildered and frightened. She had never expected it to be this bad--he looked utterly different than the person she had seen in the alley fight hours ago.

"Why do you put the weight of so much agony on me, Hermione?" He asked, being cautious on taking small steps towards her. She wasnt frightened any longer, nor was she surprised to see him in her room. She just felt despair and pain on seeing him like this.

"I didnt mean to, Harry. Although, you must understand me as well." She slowly stood up, leaving the forgotten source of comfort, the pillow, on the floor. Harry paced back, surprised by the sudden movement of the girl that was once still and frightened of him.

"You must understand that I, too, get frightened sometimes. I, too, get scared of things." She paced near him, and he kept still. She felt her heart beat by her chest, and she felt her knees shake in anxiety. He was looking down, onto her carpeted floors as a bloody gash appeared into the light. Hermione felt that twinge of pity as she lifted his chin up gently, with utter care, as his dark ominous eyes looked back at her.

"Look at you, Harry." She whispered as a single tear dropped onto his cheeks. His face still mocked such evil intentions, but she saw struggle in his eyes. That small twinkle of hope rose inside of her.

"Im dangerous, Hermione. Especially now." She saw his knuckles turn paler than they already were, but she didnt dare step back. She wasnt afraid. She wasnt mortified. She was sorry.

Sorry for all the agony he was put through by everyone.

"I wouldnt give a damn if you're dangerous, Harry." Her voice was filled with conviction, and she found him turning his head back onto the ground. She clutched onto his cheek, cupping it again as he faced her under his forlorn lashes. Her heart softened by the very thought of his utter sadness.

"Just leave me, Hermione."

"Dont be stupid!" She had managed to shout. His face seemed darker, yet still his eyes said otherwise. Hermione clutched his hand into hers as she squeezed it reassuringly. "Dont ever think I'll abandon you, Harry Potter. I would never do that."

He heard her hold back a sob, yet she remained still as she clutched onto his hand tighter.

"I made a promise to you years and years back. Im not about to break it, Harry." He retrieved his hand from hers, squeezing his knuckled tight as he looked at her. She seemed determined not to let him go, and all he really had to do was warn her about what he was about to do. If he did, just maybe, she might avoid him and leave him to rot in his own misery. He couldnt risk her life just for his happiness.

His vision blurred as brown curls covered his face. He felt that tight force clinging onto him, and he smelled temptation. She hugged him tight, having her neck rest just inches from his mouth. That twinge of evil rushed through him as he inhaled the sweet scent running inside her. He felt his eyes darken as he imagined her cold, fragrant blood, that same blood that ran through her body. He wasnt listening to the comforting words that rang in his ears, but rather busy from resisting the temptation to bury his face beneath her neck and run his hands on the smooth surface of her skin. He sucked in one breath and held it in, looking elsewhere as she hugged him tighter.

"Hermione, stop this. It isnt safe." He scowled behind her as she reluctantly let go. She seemed hurt and rejected, yet she kept her composure and faced him. His scowl stayed, just long enough for her to see. She returned the same thing, with as much coldness as he delivered.

"Could you stop being such a bloody bastard and accept me once more as a friend! Im trying to help you Harry!"

"Well, help me by staying away! Im trying to protect you!" he could see Hermione seething, taking dangerous steps towards him. The emptiness inside of him was dull, and that certain longing made his depression sink. The feeling of nothingness was terrible.

"Protect me? From what? Harry, Im tired of us arguing like this!"

"Well, just stop running after me then! Im a vampire, Hermione! I dont need another friend as an extra burden in my life!" The sudden sharpness by his cheek made him gasp, dry tears falling from his darkened eyes. His face remained blank, yet he felt Hermione's anger run deep in his non-existent veins. She was a mere step away from him, her chest heaving dangerously. The lonesome tears that streamed down her face fell quickly onto the black carpet, making it grow dark. Her hand cupped Harry's face violently as she closed the gap between them, peering angrily into his eyes. He then saw what he had been fearing for all this time.

Hatred.

"If you think that I will stand anymore of this, then you are mistaken! Im so sick of this! I hate this, Harry!" She was now looking in desperation, feeling his cold breath brush against her lips. Her eyes were pure and sincere, so as the tears of divided anger and pain. Harry was staring back at her in a scowl, yet again, his eyes said otherwise. With one more dangerous step towards him that he could feel her thighs brush against his, she clutched tightly onto his shirt, pulling him so close that the sweet scent emanating from her made Harry's blood boil in temptation. "Im so sick of being hurt by you."

Her scent was driving him mad that his knuckles started to clench. He prayed for dear life for her to back away, for his eyes started to darken in hunger and even possibly, lust. Her face remained the same, yet her eyes started to fill with gentleness as she ran a gentle hand through his cheek, tracing the vanishing red mark that caused him so much pain. "Look at what you're letting me do to you. I dont like hurting you as well, Harry! For gods sake, you force me to!"

Then, Harry felt it.

That sense of abandonment that will haunt him forever. Hermione gave her last sigh as she stepped back, wiping the remains of the crestfallen tears on her face. Her eyes started to droop, and Harry could tell that she was tired, both physically and emotionally.

All because of his stupidity.

"Im so tired, Harry…" Her voice trailed off. "If this is the way you want it, then…I'll gladly accept it…even if it hurts…this much." Her eyes were starting to close just as she turned her back on him, but Harry refused to give up. He grabbed her hand and twirled her to face him so quickly that she now nestled inside his arms, her chest against his. The soft gasp that escaped from her lips made his blood boil hotter, and Harry couldn't help but notice the dangerous closeness he was in. The hot breath that brushed through his neck made his grip on her tighter, making her press against him so hard that she, herself, ached.

"The day you took my hand and took a walk with me on the grounds of this forsaken earth was the day I put your life in danger."

He felt it. The small beating of her heart made his empty chest ache. The small vibrations made him long for it so badly that it ached him. Hermione found her eyes starting to close as she nestled her head on his chest. She gasped, hearing nothing but the hollow sound of bones and muscles.

He had no heart.

He had it once…but lost it.

Absolutely none that pumped and ached and shuddered.

"Oh Harry…" A single tear, and maybe the very last, sped through her cheeks as she closed her eyes completely, her head pressed firmly on his chest, and her body closely against him. She ran one hand against his chest before completely retreating to sleep.

Harry just hoped that she wouldn't hate him in the morning.

OoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOOo

The vibrant sun insulted a very lonesome day. The heat reflected through the windows, sending its beams to cross Hermione's face as she slept beneath the murky sheets. She smelled the scent of the familiar musky cologne—the same scent she smelled last night. Moaning, she sat up straight, her eyes blinking irritably. It was a black room adorned with nothing but a single, intricately designed closet that seemed to camouflage with the wall. A single window rested beside the bed, along with a small chair that lay just by it. It was clean, yes, but too minimal.

This was definitely not her room.

It wasn't panic that surged through her when she reached the pique of realization, but fear. She looked under her sheets, finding herself fully clothed. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she rested herself onto the pillows. She was surprisingly dizzy from the strong male aroma that circulated around the room, making her feel so hot that it boiled beneath her skin.

"Harry…?" She whispered. There was absolutely no answer.

"Harry…is that you?" She whispered again.

Silence.

It was thick as it hovered into the air, making Hermione fill with chills that shivered down her spine. It was awfully too quiet. She reluctantly got up, swinging her feet onto the surprisingly chilled floor. The shock made her jump as she tried to walk through the room without flinching, wrapping her arms around her for heat. It was surprisingly very cold…all too cold. A bit of everything is bad, isn't it? She thought to herself.

Running her hands through the cabinet found at the far end of the room, she found herself squinting at the Latin encryption just below.

Sceleratus.

Hermione knew very well what it meant. The aching pain in her chest needed to stop.

"Cursed and Wicked." She whispered under her breath. She thought of the utter cruelty of such a word being encrypted in your own possession—The haunting, eerie feeling seeped through her as she stared at the carved designs on the wooden exterior. A wide range of bleeding roses weaved as an outline, wrapping it's thorns around a skull that seemed to suffocate.

"Harry…" She whispered, looking down the floor as she started to clutch her chest in pain. The very thought of him suffering haunted her, leaving her breathless. She found herself hyperventilating as the flashing images of death and pain started to fill her mind. The buzzing sound of silence was thick, and she found the room closing in on her slowly. The scent was increasing, leaving her blood boiling beneath her skin. Sweat dripped profusely down her head and onto the black carpet beneath her.

"Hermione?" Her neck looked sharply at the door, and she found herself abandoning her thoughts completely. Greeted with a mob of bushy hair, he smiled as he hugged her back tightly, laughing in the process.

"Ronald! Im so glad to see you!" She was ecstatic to see him. It has been 17 years since they've seen each other, and she missed him just as much as she missed Harry, or at least used to. The red head let go softly, leading her to the couch by the living room. The soft dramatic closing of Harry's door sent an eerie feeling inside Hermione, making her uncomfortable as she sat down with her legs folded beneath her.

"It's hard to take in, isn't it?" Ron suddenly said, in the middle of sipping his morning coffee. Hermione looked up at him, smiling weakly. That small aching feeling in her heart still lingered, now irritating her.

"It never was hard, exactly. It's just surreal." She whispered, feeling Ron nod in agreement. She was still staring back at the black door she came through moments ago. It's knob was silver, engraved with the same rose design she saw minutes ago.

"Is it hard, Ronald?"

"What is?" He asked, looking up from his mug. She seemed uncomfortable and uneasy, yet she tried to keep her composure. It was hard talking about him, she had to confess. It was all to hurtful for her, having known that they shared a past together. Those haunting images of him in her mind seemed to just confuse her…and even hurt her.

"Living with him and seeing him suffer with every last breath in his body? Seeing that forlorn face each day, which just awaits his transfiguration at night?" Her gaze was somewhat far away, making Ron abandon his cup completely.

"It's very hard, Hermione. It's hard to see a best friend suffer like that. But I've learned to cope with it. All the blood and the killings…you couldn't restrain him. It's who he is." The silence was thick, and it made Hermione shiver. Something didn't feel right inside of her. That ominous feeling just seemed to flood her mind. Something has happened, and it made her scared.

"I get the feeling too." He suddenly said.

"What feeling?"

"The intense fear of something dangerous happening. I get it all the time. That's the thing, you see. That guy's a jinx. Get attached to him, and everything in your life's dangerous." He said with a small chuckle. Hermione replied in the same manner, yet her face still looked fearful. The feeling remained…continuing to haunt her…

"Hermione, don't worry. The guy's immortal for goodness sake! He'll live for the next thousand years." Her thoughts remained the same…

"Yeah. He will, but the victim wont." She looked down, ashamed of thinking badly of him. Although she had to look at the other's point of view-how did they really feel about him? Did they even know that things like him still existed? "I know it's shameful to think so badly of him, but I couldn't help but feel for the victims he's damaged badly."

Then the bubbling thoughts started to clear in her mind.

She was scared of being a victim. A victim to everything he stands for.

His words started to refresh in her mind, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. The fear was so thick, that she felt herself shake. Im dangerous, Hermione. Especially now. Was he trying to kill her? Was he retraining himself? Hermione's eyes widened in fear as she gulped inaudibly. She couldn't possibly be scared of him. He's a friend she'd never feared in all her life. She made a promise to him about it.

"Hermione…you're not scared of Harry…are you?" Ron suddenly asked, noticing the familiar fearful expression he used to have years back. Hermione shook her head momentarily before staring back at him, a small smile fading in.

"Of course not." She stuttered. He knew well that she was lying, but he didn't want to make her think of anything else. "Of course not…" She repeated, although it sounded a line less of believable. Her smile was now fake, having her eyes brim with tears. I couldn't possibly be…no…I cant be… The repetitive denial in her head made her dizzy. The images of Harry so rejected made her heart ache again that she wished for it just to be taken out.

Being scared of him would leave a laceration in him so deep, he would hate her.

"You know what? Lets just wait for him. He's probably just walking around cutting himself like the emotionally man that he is." He retreated into the kitchen, leaving Hermione staring down at herself.

Those haunting images.

"Yeah...lets wait for him…"

The deep lacerations.

"He'll be here any moment…"

The fear.

She stood up quickly before she could imagine her dead body hanging loosely in his arms.

OoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOOo

His head was thumping wildly, and he felt himself struggle as he started to open his eyes. The image was a blur, and he couldn't help but moan in pain as his head continued to throb in pain. The setting looked deserted, with it's webbed walls and crevices and dead mice that lay dead on the floor. Cockroaches inhabited at least every corner of the space, and Harry felt himself grunt again. With a few more blinks of his eyes, the vision started to decipher, and he found himself gasping.

The shame started to creep through him again.

"Damnit!"

His fingers bore deep into a man's chest, as he could feel it pounding beneath. It pounded…and pounded…the blood squirting onto his fingers…before it stopped completely. The man's face was undecipherable, due to the wrinkles and the dried blood on his face. The howl of frustration escaping from his lips echoed through the facility, making him drop the body onto the floor. It crumpled quickly, even before he set down and knelt beside it. He looked lifeless and pale…and helpless.

"Im such an arse hole!"

It rang in his ears over and over again, haunting him.

He was a murderer.

The man remained lifeless on the floor, making him cringe. He shifted the patch of gray hair on his face and stiffened. He felt so rigid, he couldn't move. He had gone too far this time…all too far. He couldn't have done. No. His head throbbed wildly once again—interrupting his thoughts, letting him shudder and cringe in pain.He found himself spitting the blood left in his mouth in disgust, seeing the bile rest idly onto the floor.

He was a monster.

Broken sobs escaped his lips as he stood up, staring at the lifeless body that lay shocked on the floor. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was open in fear. He wished he recalled that night…he wished he could've stopped what happened.

He wished.

And wished.

And wished.

But then again, vampires don't get their wishes granted.

He found a knife laying still inches away from the old man's body, and he chose to cut himself. To cut himself so deep that he wished he could feel the pain. His neck started to bleed, and he chose the time to smother his hands in a pool of his own dark blood. His neck healed just as quickly, but the blood remained. Finding an empty patch on the wall, he wrote the only words that came onto his mind.

Im sorry

With one sharp swish of his black trench coat, he extended his wings and flew high up into the sky. Broken tears fell onto the ground and burned every single thing it came in contact with. He started to cry. He didn't mean to. He didn't want to.

But he had to.

He then found it. He felt his body shiver, but he continued on. Nestled deep in the dark forest was an abandoned church, rusting and decaying. He found refuge by the tower, where he lay beside a statue of a saint. It was looking through the sky hopefully, with a sword and a scroll in his hand.

"Im not welcome here." He whispered to himself. Then again, he found the sky brightening, and a ray of light hit him directly. That small tint of hope surged through him, and he knew that he was welcome. He wasn't shunned nor rejected. He was accepted. And he found himself smiling, amidst the supposed pain that the knife brought as it bore deeply into his left ribcage, supposedly piercing through his heart that had stopped beating since the day on his initiation.

He thought he was accepted.

The beams from the sun started to sting his skin, making him gasp in pain. His wings started to whither, and he found it bleeding behind him. He was given false hope, that was what it was. It was screeching, and he felt the blood literally boil beneath him. His skin was hot and burned, and he found himself screaming. The burning sensation of the sun made him gasp more, his wings starting to retract and his wounds starting to sting.

Amidst the hate the heavens sent down upon him, he still felt hope.

"I still believe! Do you hear me? I still believe in you!" He screamed into the heavens. It replied with darkened clouds and a graying sky, making him sigh as the burning sensation stopped. He was surprisingly tired, and chose to do nothing more but to retreat and lie down onto his bed, awaiting his next transfiguration. He felt his eye lids closing, and he felt the sharp wind on his face.

He was falling.

Falling forward.

Into nothingness.

The tower of the church now lay feet from the ground, which lay beneath Harry's throbbing back. The muddy water made him sigh, having his wounds sting even more. He wished it was all over. He wished for the body to be found and for it to rest.

In peace.

Not like him.

OoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOOo

Hermione was sitting on a battered wooden chair in the kitchen, munching on her cereal while waiting for Ron to get out of the shower. She cheerfully set the bowl back to the sink, deciding that she'd wash them later. She simply smiled.

they were reunited again.

The thoughts of Harry were gone. She forced them to. Every minute she spent with Ron should not be ruined by her mere accusations towards Harry. She knew that her imagination was wild, and those that she thought of were merely impossible. She peered out the curtain, watching the sun rise as it turned the sky an unbelievably beautiful shade of orange, outlining the damp leaves of the oak trees that were almost balding due to the start of fall.

This was the peace she'd been hoping for.

The peace she had always imagined. Her, under protective arms as they both lay cuddled on a bed, the bright Sunday morning ahead of them. Those were all hallucinations in her head, yet she still wished to think that they were real. It was hard, really. The small sensation in her heart made her miss him more. Each minute she stays alone is a minute of pain and suffering. She just wished for him to have a normal life.

With her.

The ringing of her cellphone ruined the moment. The scene had seemed so fragile and short that if she blinked even once, she would miss the beautiful scenery—proving that beautiful moments like these aren't meant to last. An eerie feeling shot through her as she saw her phone vibrate on the desk. Looking into the screen, she furrowed her eye brows, seeing the name of her mother. It wasn't likely for her to call, for it was mostly her father that was so curious on how she was.

Hermione paced the sitting room nervously. The night had gone, and all their waiting came to a waist. The wind blew heavily through each crevice of the house, causing Hermione to clutch onto her jacket tightly. Thunder and lightning clashed loudly outside, making Ron laugh with each jump she took. The glint from her wrist caught her attention, and she smiled as she fiddled with the golden bracelet her father had given her on her 18th birthday, while holding a glass of red cranberry juice. She jumped at another flash of lightning, bracing herself for the thunder which followed shortly after that. The flat then rumbled slightly as her golden bracelet suddenly lost its grip from the owners wrist and fell squarely into the mug of blood red cranberry juice Hermione held in her hand. The way it floated on it's surface made Hermione cringe.

It turned red.

Blood red.

The phone continued to ring, and she started to become hesitant. It couldn't be. It was no coincidence on how her bracelet her father had given her suddenly fell of her wrist into a pool of blood. Broken images of her father started to fill her mind, making her moan uncomfortably. Ridding her thoughts, she picked up the phone with a slight hesitation. The background was silent, and she heard nothing but the wind that she assumed came from her own comfortable home.

Everything's fine, Hermione.

"Hermione, dear, something's happened to your father."

It was long before she noticed her phone shattered on the floor, her mother's voice crying in the background.

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A/N: Finally. That took so long to make. Thank you so much to THEGHOSTCHIC for helping me with some parts!

The heart shatters…and rebuilds itself eventually with time…await the next chapter…

TheFunkyDurian