Malfoy Manor – Wiltshire, England

16 July, 2001

A little more than a month had passed since she'd begun studying the zombie virus, and although there had been great strides in understanding what the plague was – definitely as she'd suspected all along: a variant hybrid of the Samedi-Lamia curses - she had yet to start on actually trying to find a way to kill it. Ideas – magical as well as Muggle - came to her head, but would need to be tested. To accomplish that, she'd need more zombie flesh and perhaps even a live zombie or three.

During this time, if Hermione wasn't to be found in the labs, she was usually reading one of the source material books on viruses and immunology in the library. Occasionally, she'd poke her head up for meals, and of course, she took care of her daily bathing and toilet needs, but for the most, she was in research mode. Not much could be done to jerk her out of that frame of mind or her dedicated schedule to the project, especially knowing a doomsday clock was slowly ticking away at the precious seconds of their lives.

Draco didn't take her distance well. As a Toreador Vampire who had just claimed his mate, he needed to reaffirm a constant sexual connection with her. It seemed an instinctual drive, and she could tell that he was having difficulty restraining that need.

They'd had to compromise: he had agreed to let her work all night long undisturbed, and she had agreed that she would then sleep a full eight hours to recover during the day, and upon waking, allow her lover to have her for at least an hour, maybe two to himself. They always had sex then, to reaffirm their bond, and he took blood from her during mating as well, although it was very little, as he didn't want to exhaust her.

For a short while - two weeks or so - that routine had worked rather well for them.

Soon, however, a new problem cropped up: Draco was slowly beginning to die - as in, the final death. Her Vampire lover needed more blood than what she could provide. He'd argued that it was enough, but the dark circles under his eyes and his increasingly paling complexion contradicted him. She'd finally forced the issue a week ago in a knock-down, drag-out shouting match, and he had relented to find an alternative blood supply.

Now he was taking most of his blood needs from the other women in the house - all except Patricia (who was absolutely terrified of the idea - she didn't even like Warrington, her Master, feeding from her - so no one pushed) and Eleanor (who mentally and physically could give no more, being of weak constitution and fragile heart to start). The other Vamps had all agreed to a feeding schedule, though, so that no one woman was ever too drained to serve her Master, but each woman was also required to provide blood for Malfoy.

Secretly, Hermione hated the whole thing. It didn't seem to matter to her green-eyed, covetous heart that he wasn't directly taking sustenance from any woman's throat or wrist, drinking from a cup they'd bled into instead, but still, the thought of another woman's fluids inside of his veins, pumping his heart, was driving her spare. She'd always known that she'd had a bit of a jealous streak, but never had it been this possessive before. She blamed it on the Vampire magic of their mating. Their bonding had slowly, but surely worked its way into her heart over the past month, and now she considered Draco Malfoy hers.

At least some good had come from all of them working together as a family-type unit (a twisted one, but needs must when the Devil drives): most of the men had started to treat the other women in the house with respect. Some of them had even begun having romantic relationships.

Draco had been the trend-setter. He'd brought Hermione before his colleagues the day after he'd removed her collar and announced her as his mate. He'd then followed that up with a demand that they all treat her with the deference and courtesy expected to be given to the Lady of Malfoy Manor. In effect, he'd made it clear that even without a ceremony, he considered her his wife now.

It's funny how peer pressure has a way of changing people's minds.

Two days later, Goyle had gone to Pucey and requested that they trade servants. Ambivalent on the whole subject of who serviced him, Adrian had easily agreed. That swap turned out to have been in everyone's best interest as very quickly thereafter, Sage and Goyle had became passionate lovers, while Frobisher had managed to find in Adrian a compatible soul to help him tame his darker nature. Apparently, Vicky was into games of dominance and submission just as much as her new Master. Neither woman wore a collar or lived in the servants' quarters any longer, residing in the rooms of their partners instead.

Blaise was the next to tumble off the cliff of committed bachelorhood into the stormy seas of monogamy. Somewhere between Goyle and Pucey's submission to Cupid's arrow, Zabini had begun to openly romance Abigail. His slave, however, turned out to be a better player at Giovanni mind games than the Vampire of said Clan, and her refusal to accept his earnest tokens of apology and interest had only fueled his desire to have her. The clever girl should have been sorted into Slytherin! Now, on nights when he wasn't out on a raid for supplies or wasn't helping Hermione in the labs or in the library doing research, he could be found in the company of Abby, walking the vast property's grounds and holding hands, or shagging her outside on the lawn or in the gardens, under the moonlight.

Theodore and Felicity had an amicable, fun relationship. It didn't seem to be a very deep connection, but they were fast becoming friends. Twice Hermione had caught them shagging out in the open – once in the Music Room on the piano bench and once against a wall in the upstairs hallway. They certainly seemed to enjoy each other, regardless of emotional entanglements. Perhaps something would grow from that.

Lucian and Peregrine were taking great pleasure in Mafalda and Latisha – sometimes together, at the same time – but none of the four were particularly enamored of having anything outside of a sexual relationship with each other. It was, as Randall put it, "a free-for-all, no holds barred fuck fest" that they had going and that was the extent of it. It was a solid bet that the women would be let go (and they would gladly fly the coop) in favour of new servants, if any were ever brought to the Manor. Until such a time, however, they were living up the sex – usually to the tune of banging headboards and screeching wails of pleasure.

Not everyone was as happily-ever-after, however.

Warrington was totally disconnected emotionally from Patricia, and she from him. He used her for sex and blood and his Thaumaturgical experiments whenever the whim struck, and she would find the nearest shower afterwards to scrub up until her skin was pink. Other than that, they avoided each other like the… well, like the plague. More troubling than that, however, was Patti's growing resentment of Cris, which grew day by day. Hermione was worried about that eventual blow-up, and informed Draco so he could keep an eye out on the Vampire, just in case.

Eleanor and Evan suffered the worst of the curse of Vampirism, however. They were one of those star-crossed couples you read about in Shakespearean tragedies. They were the angst-ridden ones you root for to overcome the impossible odds, yet secretly know in your heart probably won't - that they are, in fact, most likely destined for a very bad ending. Still, you can't help but want them to win and hold out hope.

It was clear by now that Ellie loved Rosier, but hated his Ravnos curse, which he couldn't at all control and which required he rape and beat his victim every time he drank from them. Evan was a man running from everything – from that monstrous side of himself, as well as from Ellie's feelings, not to mention his own for her. When he had to drink from her, he now did so only after she'd emptied blood into a cup for him. He further required that he be chained to a wall in the dungeons, located just down the hall from the new labs, and for another Vampire to be present to prevent him from breaking out and hurting his servant as she pressed the cup to his mouth.

As soon as her blood passed his lips, his struggles would begin and he'd lose himself in the frenzy of the Ravnos curse. He would then begin screaming for physical release, because the pain would be agonizing for him, and Ellie would get on her knees and take him in hand or mouth to relieve him. Once he ejaculated enough to sate the curse (usually two to three times, as Ravnos were intensely sexual beings), he'd be freed of it… until the next time he needed to feed again. Branstone would cry the entire time.

Every time he was released from his shackles, he would go to her, hug and kiss her and apologize, and then he'd leave the Manor, volunteering to go outside the wards to run errands, purposefully putting himself into the line of fire. The man had a clear death wish.

Hermione had stopped her lab work for two hours just this evening after she'd heard the commotion down the hall and went to investigate. Once Evan had fled past her and out of the dungeon, shame and remorse carved into his features, and Goyle had silently followed him out, Hermione watched as Abigail had taken Ellie into her arms and let the girl have a good, long cry. After she'd calmed a bit, the three women had had an important chat that Hermione had been able to contribute to – one that changed a very unhappy situation to one of hope.

"You'll need to be stronger for him. His guilt over making you constantly cry is driving him away. You two need to be working on a solution to this problem, not driving a bigger wedge between you."

"Hermione's right, Ellie. He's suffering as much as you are because… I think he's in love with you. In fact, I'm quite sure of it."

"You're right, of course. I need to… I need to stop crying."

"You need to stop being a victim to his Vampire curse – that goes for the both of you."

"What do you suggest, Granger? He can't touch her without chains if the curse isn't sated."

"So, leave the chains on and sate him how you have been. After the curse has set him free for the night, keep them on just in case, and be together however you want or need."

"Shites and shamrocks, why didn't I think of that before? Ellie, this is the perfect solution to your problem!"

"Start slow – just lie or sit next to him and spend the night talking. Eventually, work up to kissing, then more. You'd have to take the lead on that, Branstone, as his hands will be tied, but… it could work, I think."

"I… I don't know what to do. Evan was my first. He's been my only."

"Ahhh, well, step into my parlour little fly, and listen to this old spider give you an education in seducing a man…"

"I'm going to get back to work. You two have fun!"

"Bye, Hermione, and thank you!"

She'd returned to her research after that.

At dawn, Draco appeared to assure she stopped, helped her to clean up the lab, and then escorted her to bed. He undressed her and tucked her in, spooning in behind her as they both liked. She fell asleep to the sound of his light snoring and his warm arms around her.

X~~~~~~~~~~X

Malfoy Manor – Wiltshire, England

23 August,2001

Hermione crossed off "wormwood" from the list before her and threw down her Muggle pen in disgust. In the last month, she'd tried every derivative of wizarding apothecary ingredient known to no avail. Her last batch of Petri dish tests was negative.

That left her with trying combinations next. There were literally millions she could come up with, and she didn't have enough fresh zombie flesh left to test with. Someone would have to go out tonight and risk all again to get her more. She also needed fresh batteries for the microscope.

Cleaning up her station and her biohazard suit, assuring everything was clean before stepping out, she headed for the library, which had become the preferred area to hang-out in the evenings. This was mostly because she'd put them all – Vampire and servant alike - on a rotating schedule to read up on various books in the Malfoy library that she chose for them which could provide a breakthrough clue.

It was two o'clock in the morning when she came in. Draco, Blaise, Abigail and Patricia were there, each reading one of her required texts and taking notes that could be helpful. "I'm done testing every ingredient known to the wizarding world – all negatives. I'm going to try combinations of ingredients next. But, I need fresh zombie parts."

"Again?" Zabini queried, surprised. "We just got you-"

"They're two days old and rotting already," she cut him off. "It has to be fresh."

Patricia threw her quill down. "I don't see why we just don't wait them all out. You said they rot into goo within fourteen days if they don't get fresh blood. There can't be that many people left out there for them to feed from. Eventually, they'll just… drop off, won't they?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's an issue of population dynamics versus the basic reproductive rate of the virus. There were close to fifty-nine million Muggles in Great Britain at the start of this year, give or take. Wizards stood around three-thousand. From everyone's reports on what they knew about the zombie virus spread, including reports that had been heard on the WWN before it went off-air, the plague seemed to spread at a ratio of about one to five - meaning one infected zombie, on average, bit five healthy people a day and infected them. Those infected went on to bite five a piece of their own per day, and so on. At that rate, I calculated that as of June, half the country had been infected. Even with many of them evacuated, not everyone left." She made a circling gesture to include their group in that statistic. "That's still around twenty-five million humans. And we have no idea if the virus can cross species to other animals, magical creatures or Beings. Who knows how many of those live here – millions more, maybe. If we included them in the infection rate…" She shook her head and shrugged. "It could be another year before all of the infected finally run out of blood to feed on and fall over dead – and that's assuming that they're land-locked and can't walk on the bottom of the ocean or fly away and move from continent to continent. The Muggles aren't willing to wait that long, for fear the disease will get off the Isles. They gave us time to work on a cure from the wizarding angle. They're doing so from the Muggle one. But, we only have three months left as of September first. Waiting isn't an option."

"So, let's leave," Stimpson insisted. "Give us some wands and let us go!"

Hermione's concerned gaze met Draco's. They'd discussed this scenario – people panicking, wanting to leave before the end. They argued over it a lot the last few weeks. They'd also discussed Patricia's mounting hatred for Warrington, and her desire to leave him, and how that issue would eventually be aired. It seemed that tonight, there would be two birds killed with one stone as both issues would be forced to the surface.

"No," he resolutely stated, "there will be no leaving."

Patricia made her feet and slammed shut the book she'd been reading. "And what right do you have to hold any of us here? You give us clothes and food and a bed, but you're no different from the Azkaban guards. No, you're worse! You're enslaving us against our will – using Vampire magic to make us want to be here, stealing our souls!"

"Sit down, Stimpson," Malfoy instructed, his tone rational, even. "Keep reading."

She blinked and looked away, and Hermione knew in an instant that she'd just broken his mesmerizing stare and resisted his command given with the use of his Vampire magic. Such a thing shouldn't have been possible.

"You can't command me," she shouted, running for the exit.

Draco caught her before she could touch the door handle. "Heed me," he growled, angered that she'd been able to resist the Toreador abilities of Presence, which allowed him to Entrance and Awe others with his voice and aura.

Stimpson shook her head and shut her eyes, yanking on her arm. "Let go! You can't force me!"

A thought occurred to Hermione that settled like lead in her belly. "She mentioned that Warrington was conducting blood magic through her and gaining power that way."

Blaise was suddenly at his friend's side. "Look at me," he commanded, using the Giovanni ability to Dominate their foes. He could Command and Entrance, and even make people forget selective memories if he wanted.

Patricia fought it, but it was useless. She looked up into Zabini's face and was his the moment their eyes met. "Legilimens," he whispered, using his Wizarding magic in combination with his Vampire talents.

The witch jerked back as if slapped as he entered her mind and read her memories. It took only seconds before he had gotten what he wanted and let her go. He began swearing up a storm. "We need to do something about him – immediately," he warned. "He's been practicing Biothaumaturgy since his Embrace to try to figure out how to conquer and control living and dead flesh."

"Why?" Hermione asked. "What could he possibly-" She stopped as a frightening thought struck and turned her attention to her lover. "When did he first approach you about joining your little gang here once Voldemort was gone?"

Malfoy and Zabini traded a look. "He was the one who suggested it, actually - that we gather together and find a place to hold up outside the school until the plague ran its course. That was just before we abandoned Hogwarts."

Her heart was beating like a little bird under her ribs. "You need to capture him and get into his memories. I think he's responsible for all of this."

Draco frowned. "I thought you said my aunt and uncle were responsible for all of this."

I shook my head. "They are, but… I think Warrington might be Patient Zero."

"WHAT?"

"Hurry, find him and bring him to the dungeons – the one with chains that we used to tie up Evan," she instructed. "And be careful – don't let him bite or scratch you. Stun him and bind his mouth and hands before you carry him anywhere!"

X~~~~~X

She held tightly to her notes – the same ones she'd been holding the night she went to see Malfoy and he'd distracted her with his mating of her – and looked at the limp figure chained to the wall. Tied up in a nearby chair was Patricia. Neither was going any place soon.

"Ennervate," she cast on the inert Vampire, and instantly, he woke up.

When he realized his predicament, he snarled at her and the rest of the house, all of whom were down there out of curiosity. The other women were in the hallway, trying to see in and listening to the proceedings with strained ears, while the Vampires took up the bulk of the room next to and surrounding her. Everyone was circumspect, wary, and intently focused. Tremere Vampires were considered with suspicion and typically handled with care by the other Clans because they had powers that no other Kindred had. It seemed Warrington was no exception.

She glanced at her notes again, recognizing the damning passages in the writing. It all fit together now, like a completed puzzle. She only needed to glue and frame it.

"It's you, isn't it? You're Patient Zero – the transmitter of the zombie plague."

Cris' eyes narrowed and he sneered at her, but didn't speak.

She lifted the notes that Lucian Bole had made and began reading aloud:

Usually they paired me with Perrie when we were sent to check on the Bloodlets, but that day, I went with Cris. We'd been mates since first year at school, but after his Embrace, we weren't as close. He'd become Tremere, and my Sire had warned me off of 'em. Said I couldn't ever trust a single one of them. He called them 'the Usurpers'.

She skimmed down the page and picked up at another passage:

We'd gone to check on the Lestranges. Our Lord wanted to make sure they were doing well – adjusting to their new powers and shite, you know? The rumour going about was that they were really powerful – more than the rest of us, and the Dark Lord kept 'em separate so they wouldn't hurt anyone else. They were stashed in their own wing of warded rooms on the ground floor – Classrooms Ten and Eleven. I heard a Centaur actually taught Divination there one year, but that was after I'd graduated.

Bellatrix was gorgeous. I'd always hated her before – thought she was the ugliest bint I'd ever seen, true, but… WOW! She'd changed. I wanted to fuck her the minute I saw her, but Cris warned me off. He said her bite would poison me and make my body start to rot. He went to check on Rodolphus while I tossed the container of blood at Bella like we were supposed to. Once she started drinking, I left. No chick is worth your dick falling off.

The whole trip only took a few minutes. As soon as Warrington came out, we tailed it fast through the wards and were out of there.

She stopped reading and looked at the prisoner again. "What did you do to Rodolphus Lestrange that night?" she demanded. "Did you taint him with Thaumaturgy?"

Cris sniffed in disdain. "No. My skill wasn't that good then. It took time and practice."

She narrowed her eyes. "It would take more than that to get where you are now. How did you get so powerful in so short a time?"

He laughed and it sounded a touch mad. "It's easy to drain the weak and take their strength."

The air in the room suddenly thickened with a vibrating thread of violence to go along with the already present tension. Incredulity passed over every Vampire in the room. They all knew what he was hinting at.

"Who… who did you diablerize? Whose powers and soul did you eat?" she asked, astounded by his blasphemy.

He met her gaze, and his light green eyes bled very slowly to crimson red. "All of the women he turned – Parkinson, the Greengrass girls – all of them."

"No wonder all of the pureblood witches are gone," Mafalda spoke from the back, at the doorway. "You ate them all, you fucking lunatic!"

Cris didn't respond, but his smirk said it all.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts was your strength in school, I take it?"

He was positively gloating. "Oh, absolutely. It was Professors Quirrell and Lockhart that particularly started me on the path of researching Vampires." His face became quite mocking as he spilled his tale. "Amazing what you can find out if you have access. I was particularly interested in the tale of Giovanni" – his eyes swung to Zabini – "and how he killed his Antediluvian progenitor, Cappadocius, by draining him dry and swallowing his soul. He did the same to Lamia, the head of that blood lineage. It made him powerful beyond reckoning."

"You did all of this for power?" Hermione asked, shaking her head. "Did you learn nothing from Voldemort's mistakes?"

"I learned everything from his mistakes," he corrected her. "He didn't try to understand Vampirism at its core. He just wanted to manipulate it to get what he wanted as quickly as possible. He was like one of those Muggle scientists who run about playing God with viruses without spending the twenty years cutting them open and understanding how and why they work. When you're that careless, you miss the point… and accidents happen."

"Accidents," Hermione growled. "Is that what the zombie plague is to you – an accident?"

"Well, of course it was, you daft bint!" he shouted at her and Draco took a step forward. Cris seemed unconcerned, his whole focus on her. "Did you think I wanted Rodolphus to take a chunk out of me? It hurt like fucking hell, and I almost died from it. If I hadn't drained Bellatrix, I'd be dead by now."

She rustled her papers again and started reading from Theodore Nott's testimony:

They found Bellatrix dead in her room about a week before the plague struck in the castle, if I recall the timeline correctly. Rodolphus, her husband, was gone the next night. Both of them had been mummified, like every drop of blood had been sucked out of them. Voldemort's top blew. He ordered Lucius Malfoy, my father, and Cris Warrington's dad to find out what had happened.

The next night, Warrington's father was ill, as was my father and Lucius Malfoy. They couldn't get out of bed, and they were vomiting their guts out until they bled. It only took another day or so and they were all three dead.

The night after that, all of the girls that had been made Kine were missing. No one knew where they'd gone. Their rooms were open, but they just weren't there or anywhere on the property. Since Voldemort changed the wards around the school to prevent any escape without his knowledge, not just entry from outsiders, he was in a right snit of not knowing.

She switched papers to read from Evan Rosier's account:

Things were really confusing after the Senior Malfoy, Warrington and Nott's deaths. Voldemort was busy punishing everyone he could get his hands on, blaming them for things going out of control, for the missing women and the mysterious illness that had taken three of his top advisors.

Somewhere in the middle of that, other people started getting the same illness. Snatchers started dropping like flies – it passed very quickly. It would take them a day or two to die. Another two days, and that's when we'd started seeing those that had previously died from the illness shuffling around the castle. They'd come back to life, like Inferi, and they bit people, sucking at their blood until they were sated. The people bit would become ill, die, come back to life, and start the cycle over again.

Trapped as we all were by the wards Voldemort had set to keep us in the castle, and by his unwillingness to let any of us leave because he wanted answers and someone to blame, a group of us –Zabini, Malfoy, Nott, Bole, Derrick, Warrington, Pucey, Goyle, and me - decided it was time to hide out in the Room of Requirement to avoid both the disease and the Dark Lord, who seemed to be going more and more insane as the days passed.

Two days later, as we were all slowly starving to death from lack of blood, it was Warrington who found the portrait that connected the Room of Requirement to the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade. That was our ticket out. We snatched a few women in Hogsmeade so we could feed, and escaped to Malfoy's home to hold up and hope that the Dark Lord wouldn't come for us for betraying him.

"So, let me see if I get this timeline and the facts right – correct me if I'm wrong," she charged Warrington.

He gave her a mocking nod.

"You were made Tremere-"

"I volunteered to be made Tremere," he amended her assumption immediately. "Of all the Clans, they interested me the most with their blood magic, which was stronger than a wizard's dark magic."

"Right," she stated, elongating the word to illustrate her understanding of his insane judgment.

"Don't knock it 'till you try it, pet."

She ignored his intentional provoking. "You got your wish and were turned Tremere. You have a fixation on death – which explains your obsession with Vampires when you were younger, and the Tremere have magic that deals in the study of death. They're the only major Clan remaining who actually studies such things, now that the Cappadocian Clan was made all but extinct. Specifically, you're interest is in Biothaumaturgy - the scientific study of dead organisms, using blood magic to repair and resurrect them. It's a discipline of the Tremere Vampire, hence the reason you chose to become Tremere to begin with. As to the virus…"

She began pacing back and forth in the limited space remaining to her – a nervous habit she indulged when piecing together facts. The act of moving about seemed to help her concentration and aid in her logical thought process.

"You went to visit the Lestranges with Bole the night he wrote about in his statement, and you were immediately drawn to the fact that Rodolphus was a Semedi Vampire – a blood lineage of the Cappadocian Clan, all of whom are, basically, walking and talking zombies. Lestrange's corpse-like appearance and continually rotting body must have fascinated you to no end. But, you were incautious and got too close to Rodolphus. You were bringing him his daily blood supply, so he was hungry and hadn't eaten then, and he bit you."

"Go on," he prompted her, nodding.

"You hid the bite, but realized very soon that it wasn't healing," she postulated. "Samedi are known for their bites being either particularly painful and/or for not healing well."

"It was rotting me, actually," he confirmed for her. "I was having trouble keeping my chest from liquefying. Blood seemed to work to reverse the damage, but I needed a lot of it. I drained the Muggle girl they sent to me to see to my needs. Actually, I diablerized her, but I didn't mean to at that time. I didn't even really know what I'd done until she was a dried up husk on my floor. I knew I felt stronger, more powerful after, though. She was human, not Vamp, but her soul… it tasted good in me." His eyes glassed over for a moment, and Hermione knew his mind was a million miles away, reliving that day and those feelings. "It was like heat and new strength – like being born, I guess. Different from anything I'd felt since I was Embraced."

"So, you decided to go about diablerizing Bellatrix next."

He blinked and snapped back into the present, nodding.

"Awfully ambitious of you, considering she was a Lamia."

Warrington grinned at her, and there was a definite psychosis reflected in the spark of his eyes. "But it was the perfect place to start, wasn't it? I'd been bitten by a Cappadocian off-shoot and was rotting. What would happen if I was bitten by a Lamia, too? What would change if I diablerized them both?"

Hermione stared at him. "You're mad."

His grin grew. "How can one understand death otherwise?"

"So, you let her bite you, and then you diablerized her," she continued, stepping closer to Draco, feeling suddenly very chilled by the insanity of Warrington's plan. "And your strength grew."

He nodded. "Enough to fight off both plagues longer than if I'd drank from a human. My body was changing the Samedi curse, adding the element of the Lamia curse to it."

"Lamia bites are poison. They're fatal, especially to men… but you already knew that," she pointed out the obvious. "You warned Bole about it. And you knew she was Lamia because of her drastic change in appearance. Only the Lamia lineage can change a woman who is ugly into one of striking beauty."

"They taste really good, too," Cris taunted. "Yum, yum!"

"So, she bit you, and her curse – a blood infection that rots its victims over a matter of days - somehow combined with the Samedi bite's infection and mutated," she compiled the facts quickly now, wanting to get to the bottom line soon, as this was dragging on much too long. "You were able to control this new mutated curse just barely by diablerizing Vampires - stealing their blood and powers and using them to keep the infection in check within your body. You killed her, and the next night you killed Rodolphus, and the night after that, you bit your own father, Lucius Malfoy and Donovon Nott. Why didn't you just diablerize them, too? They were wizards, but their blood and magic would have been a good addition to your power base."

"I bit my father," he confirmed, "but not the other two. He did that after, as the virus compelled him to."

Her brows lowered in confusion. "Why?"

His brows raised in amusement. "I told my father I needed blood, because my servant girl hadn't been replaced yet. He was ever the good patrician and offered me his wrist without question."

"Never suspecting you'd infect him," Zabini tsked in disgust.

Cris snickered. "Don't look at me like that, Giovanni. Disloyalty to family for personal ambition is at the heart of your Clan's very existence. Your primogenitor diablerized Cappadocius and Lamia - his Sire and his blood sister."

"You bit your father, and he got sick – what? Almost immediately?" she asked.

Warrington nodded. "Ravaged him fast – within minutes, he started sweating and had a fever. There was no time to diablerize him – and yes, I did consider it. Malfoy and Nott took him out of my rooms between them before it could be done, though. I heard them say they were going to take him back to his room for a lie-in, thinking he was just weak from the loss of blood. He bit them sometime between my room and his."

"Infecting them, too," Hermione murmured and shook her head in disgust. "Did you know your bite would do that?"

Cris' eyes shut down all emotion like a light switch, and his face went instantly blank. "What do you think?"

"No, I don't think you knew, but I think you definitely wanted to know," she asserted, going with her gut instinct. "I think you purposefully infected him to find out what would happen to the virus you'd changed in your body if it were passed on to someone else. And after that, when your father died and you had your answer – that is, that the virus had mutated and taken on the worst attributes of both curses - you panicked. Diablerizing all of the Bloodlet pureblood females in the castle was your solution to building up your immunity against the virus, just in case it mutated within you again, and the next time, overpowered you. That about right?"

Warrington nodded with excitement, and she knew he was reliving those moments in his head, relishing the clever destruction he'd wrought. His eyes were gleaming, red fire pits of demonic amusement.

"And I suppose you got rid of those women's desiccated bodies to prevent Voldemort from finding out that it was you doing the killing of his people?"

He shrugged and his chains rattled. "I had to throw him off the scent. He began going nutters after that, trying to figure out where they'd gone and why they'd abandoned him. And by then, my father, Malfoy's and Nott's had all died. Soon after, they'd gotten up out of their graves and were walking around infecting others. The mysteries and growing chaos distracted him. He never had time to backtrack, because he was too busy fighting fires."

"How exactly did diablerizing all those Kindred stop the mutated virus from killing you, scientifically speaking?" she asked, curious to know how he'd managed to dominate such a deadly organism.

"It gave me the magical power I needed to perform Biothaumaturgy on myself – altering my body just enough so that the virus no longer attacked me," he proudly boasted.

"But you're a carrier nonetheless," she guessed, "and you still need to keep up the blood drinking so you can regularly perform Biothaumaturgy on yourself to keep the virus from mutating again inside of you."

He nodded. "The cost of science and of staying alive."

She glanced at Patricia across the room, still unconscious in the chair they'd tied her to. "You've bitten her. She's infected."

"Sad for her, but true."

The girl's coughing now made sense. Her body was fighting off the infection. But she had to have had help to do so… "She said you've been performing Thaumaturgy on her the whole time she's been here," Hermione recalled. "Why? So you can now take the time to study how the virus works outside of your body on others?"

His grin was white, and sharp. "Precisely."

"She's your living guinea pig," Malfoy hissed in revulsion. "You've let a plague carrier into my house, after taking an oath to me!"

"I'm the ultimate plague carrier," Warrington pointed out, entertained by Draco's vehemence. "And you let me in. The fault is yours for not being more thorough in checking your guests over before opening doors to them. Besides, I've kept up my end of the bargain – I haven't actually caused you any harm yet, have I, Malfoy?"

Hermione clasped Draco's hand in hers to keep him from exploding. His temper was riled and Warrington was jerking his chain hard. Not a good combination. "What are you after?" she asked the prisoner, sensing there was more to it than Cris was telling. "Why not just run when you had the chance after escaping Voldemort? You'd changed the virus and were stable, relatively speaking. Why not just go on the Lam, drink from blood banks to avoid spreading the disease, and live hidden?"

The former Slytherin Quidditch Chaser stared long and hard at her, as if sensing she was onto his game. "You're a smart bird. You figure it out."

Gears turned over and over in her head. Words he'd spoken earlier came back at her. She leapt to make a connection. "Power interests you. Power over death…" A thought occurred and shocked her to the soles of her feet. "You're looking to do what Voldemort was attempting: find a way to dominate the Vampire Clans, and through them, everyone else. Only… he was doing it wrong, you said. He didn't understand why Vampirism actually works." She swallowed in nervous trepidation, finally understanding. "But you do now that you've figured out how this virus works - through your little experiments on Patti, and on the animals and insects in the garden that she was telling us about. You know how and why Vampires die, don't you? And you're going to use the knowledge – and the threat of the virus - to crown yourself King of the World."

Cris licked his lips and gave her a sultry smile. "I like you, Granger. What say you ditch prissy boy here," he jerked his head at Malfoy, "and come be my Queen."

Draco's hand came around her waist and pulled her tight against him, his chest pressing to her back in a solid line. He growled and it was an angry cat-like noise. "She's mine."

Warrington laughed, and it was sad to say that he was quite handsome with such an expression on his face. Too bad he was so black hearted. "I regret not taking her before you bonded to her, but I was a bit too preoccupied then to make the effort. She won't want me now anyway, will you, pet? The idea repulses you, doesn't it – any man other than Draco touching you? I wonder if you truly understand what he's done to you, though."

"What do you mean-?" she asked, but Draco's warning growl grew louder and drowned her out.

Zabini put a calming hand on her lover's shoulder. "He's trying to provoke you into getting close. He wants to bite and infect you."

Cris snarled at Blaise for thwarting his plans and jerked his chains, trying to break free of them in a lunge. The chains held, but the sound of metal bending was clearly audible.

Goyle stepped in front of Draco and Hermione. His hands had morphed into those of an animal's – long claws as sharp and razors, digits elongated by an extra knuckle. He snarled and she knew he was baring fangs at their enemy.

In a quick move, she angled around Greg's big body and pointed her wand at Warrington. "I think you've done enough damage in one lifetime. Petrificus Totalus."

Warrington froze in his chains, but his scarlet-coloured eyes looked at them all with undisguised malice.

"Well," she stated, taking a deep breath. "We have our answers to how, when, where and why, as well as our live virus carriers to test from. No, even better than that: we have Patient Zero. I think it's very possible now to come up with a cure, especially since Bonzo here seems to have figured out a way to make the disease inert. If he could do that, we can definitely figure out a way to destroy it."

"Thank Godric for that," Abigail rooted from the entrance. "Maybe Christmas this year won't suck after all."

No one laughed. The truth of the evil that had been lying in the same house with them for months, that had fooled them all, was too unsettling.

TO BE CONTINUED…