Agony. That was the singlular emotion overcoming every logical thought or other senses. Agony was what she felt, as what she could only describe as liquid nitrogen traveling at a slow pace down every little vein and nerve ending through her body and paralysing her muscles until they were taunt and clenched painfully.
Every breath hurt.
Every second felt like an eternity.
Every last thought of hope fled her mind.
Agony.
Timeless agony was her only companion.
Draco rubbed his exhausted face and flooed into her apartment one more time. The one agreement they made was free access; she could come and go to his home, and Draco could enter hers anytime the wards tingled of something sinister.
They were having such a pleasant morning and just as he was taking a sip of his coffee, he felt the breath rip from him at the violent magic that tingled through Hermione's wards. He knew she was taken before he even arrived at the scene, Harry at his heel and looking around bewildered. There was nothing indicating any disturbance. The flat was clean and neat as always, the temperature pleasant, a used but empty teacup from yesterday still by the old tome on the coffee table. The only sign on struggle was a piece of Hermione's vine wood wand, a piece of dragon heart string all damaged and split peaking out of the chipped wood.
Before they had a chance to ward the place off as a crime scene and look for a match in the dark magical signature, the floo flared again and two redheads jumped out, wands at the ready and curses at the tip of their tongues.
"Fred! George! What are you doing here?" Harry asked, completely astonished.
"Something felt horribly wrong. Where's Hermione and why are you in her flat?" Fred asked, his wand not lowering.
"She was kidnapped. Can you smell the dark magic?" Draco raised a brow, pointing all around them.
The magical signature left behind was thick and dark like molasses, and smelled like bonfire night with a hint of cloying sweetness. It was unlike anything the twins or Harry had encountered. Due to his past, Draco had smelled this once in his youth.
"It's the smell of a willingly turned vampire that has little left of their humanity. He has practically no soul, hence the burnt smell. It's almost like exorcism, you are left with little humanity if you give into the dark side of vampirism," he explained.
"Who did this?" Harry asked while the twins looked around to check for anything else.
Draco sighed, he hated to do this but it was unfortunately not for him to share the information. "That is classified. None of you have the authorisation to know about Hermione's work, or mine, or who did this," he explained, standing firm despite Harry's clear frustration and the twins' fury.
"All we know is that she works at the Ministry, for some division in the Department of Mysteries. But kidnapping? Why was she kidnapped? Who would want her any harm? We want answers, Malfoy," Fred positively growled.
"And I can't give them to you. Again, you are not supposed to know any of this," Draco stood his ground and tried to keep the situation calm.
Fred looked like he was going to hex him on the spot, but George gripped his shoulder tightly and shook his head silently before looking at Harry. "You are taking us to the Ministry. We have some questions, as concerned citizens, for the current Minister of Magic," he stated clearly and calmly, but his eyes spoke another story altogether.
Fred looked at his twin and knew that the fury and worry he felt was not just his, but his twin's as well. They couldn't imagine their world without Hermione and maybe it was time to get some answers.
"What about your daughter?" Draco asked, remembering one of them with a child around Diagon Alley.
"She's safe with her auntie, we have another hour before we need to pick her up. So you better take us to the Ministry quickly," George stood his ground and left them with no choice.
Hermione opened her eyes suddenly and tried to take a deep breath but her lungs only accepted so much oxygen in them, making her cough a little. She sat up and instinctively took in all of her surroundings, her mind processing the details much faster, making her realise just how enhanced her senses were. She could smell the aged stone and the fresh plaster and paint of the structure around them, the gentle smell of fabric conditioner on the simple cotton sheet beneath her. Her skin itched to be washed, covered in sweat of the change, and a bit of waste from when her body died and muscles loosened. She found a bathtub filled with water and some lavender soap, so quickly but throughly washed herself before grabbing the soiled sheets and throwing them into the flames to burn away her human stench.
A beautiful burgundy velvet dress was awaiting her and she slipped it over her nude form, taking a moment to feel the changes in her body while her mind tried to cope with the knowledge that she was now undead.
Her skin felt neither warm, nor cold, the same temperature as the room, but the little hairs on the surface were feeling the material encasing her body differently. It wasn't uncomfortable, there was just a new level of awareness of the fabric she before wore easily.
Her sense of smell was overwhelming at first, but she quickly managed to find the balance when her hearing began picking up sounds from within the building and outside it. Movement, light steps and heavy steps alike. Loud conversation, quietly spoken words, laughter…..and cars, she could hear the cars outside. So they were close to a road. Good. She focused and tried to recognise voices and pick up specific words.
"She's awake, bring her to me," she picked up the clear voice and heavy accent immediately.
Her maker.
Her lip pulled back over her teeth in a quiet snarl. While they learned that some vampires when changed willingly felt a strong connection and longing for their maker, she felt nothing for the man that ripped into her soul so viciously.
Her soul… She wondered whether she had any left, but a single through of the twins and little Roxy affirmed that she did. She had to have a soul if she still felt the love and worry for them that she felt before. Her humanity wasn't gone then. At least not yet. She needed to bide her time, grow into her reflexes and learn the place to be able to escape. If only she could at least send the boys some sort of a message…
There was no time to contemplate it any further as the door to her chamber opened and a tall redheaded man stepped in. He motioned for her to proceed him silently, and she went without a question, knowing who she was being led to.
After turning right at the bottom of the stairs, they reached a large sitting room with beautiful antique armchairs and a drinks cabinet. She stepped in, still barefooted, and her toes dug into the soft turkish rug beneath her feet, momentarily distracting her focus before she was looking at the monster that made her. He looked different. She could see his dark aura, sensed and smelled his magic differently, and she could smell the blood mixed in with the red wine in his hand. She took a deep whiff and felt her body responding. Her tummy clenched in hunger and desire all at once, her vision changed as her eyes narrowed and her whiskey irises turned a brilliant vermillion, and her gums itches as he razor sharp canines slid out, ready to hunt and kill.
"You truly are magnificent," he complimented as he stood from his throne to pour her some of the blood-wine. He held out a crystal tumbler to her, easy to drain quickly if you were hungry.
She took it with a steady hand despite the pressing need to feed, and took a cautious sip. The taste was unlike anything she could coherently describe. Food was delicious, and as human she loved to explore different cuisines. But none of her favourite foods compared to this. The blood in the drink was like soothing honey to an aching throat…or a cool sorbet on a hot day…..a hot tea after hours spent in freezing weather…It was soothing and invigorating at once, and the wine only enhanced the taste. No wonder the vampires didn't care about the cliches when drinking the blood mixed in with the wine was so delicious.
She physically forced herself to take slow sips as she walked around the room and took stock.
Two windows with ornate metal bars across them. She could break and bend but she was by no means fast enough to do it without intervention or injury.
One door, two men standing guard. She wouldn't be fast enough to get there either without Sasha grabbing her.
Poison. She still had her ring, and the poisonous powder was colourless and odourless so he would never detect it. All she could do was patiently bide her time and wait for an opportunity.
"So just to check, cause I've seen different vampire versions on muggle telly, does it matter what blood type a person is? Is one tastier than the other?" she asked cheekily as her lips formed into a falsely innocent smile.
Sasha only raised an amused brow, her coquettish manners clearly pleasing and her feisty nature amusing him. "Everyone has a preference. I prefer them B or O negative, less fatty," he replied candidly, watching her for any sign of shock that usually manifested with freshly turned.
She shrugged. "Well I guess it makes dinner varied somehow if you drink the regular grog as often as your favourite," she mused just as candidly, unwilling to flinch. "Now, will I be forced to stand all night or can we sit down?" she motioned at the game of chess set up in the corner.
Sasha observed her for a moment before pulling the chair out for her indulgently.
It was going to be a long night….
George was still reeling from the information they received from Kings, and tried to imagine the person they heard about with the person he knew as Hermione. Roxy wiggled in his arms, burying her wet face into his neck. "Shhh it's alright, baby girl. Hermione will be back soon, she misses you too," he tried to soothe as he walked around the living room, hoping the slight rocking movement would tire her out before she cried herself to sleep.
He hated to see her like this, so upset. Roxy was such a good child, rarely cried, always so happy, but when something hurt badly or she was in great distress, the tears were endless.
She rubbed the sleeve over her weeping nose and hiccuped a little. "But she promised! Mimi never breaks a promise," he hiccuped again as more crocodile tears rolled down her flushed cheeks.
"I know, and I'm sorry she had to this time. When you're a big girl, like Hermione, sometimes work must be more important than play time," he tried to explain as he walked around and rubbed her back soothingly.
"But she is not talking to me!" he wailed a little, now exhausted from crying and missing her Mimi.
"She doesn't have her phone, baby. She is away, working in another country and the signal is not good so she didn't take it," he tried, trying to stay calm to not fuel her distress.
Fred came in carrying hot cocoa just as she fell asleep exhausted on his shoulder. George gently settled her down in her bed and cast a gently sleeping charm on her to make sure she was rested. He settled down beside his twin and leaned his head against his shoulder as they sipped the soothing drink. "I still can't believe it…" he admitted.
"Which part? The one where she's a kick-ass spy? Cause that is the most believable part of the whole thing," Fred snorted. And it was true.
The moment Kingsley said it, he had no doubt that Hermione was just that. No one knew better than her closest friends just how lethal Hermione was, they've all seen her fight. The fact that she kept it completely hidden from them spoke of just how good she was at being a spy. They never even suspected it! It was like a whole other life that she was leading, and Fred was baffled just how little it interfered with their time together, or with Hermione's relationship with Roxy.
"I just….did you have any idea? I didn't," George frowned.
Fred shook his head and was about to say that there wasn't anything suspicious about her behaviour that would give it away, but then he remembered the past few weeks. "Actually….she cancelled a few times on us in the past month….and always wanted to be indoors….and she was a bit distant….do you think she rarely took Roxy to her apartment because she worried about a kidnapping like this?" he asked softly, everything clicking into place now that he put two and two together.
"I think so…" George sighed. "A part of me is furious with her…she must have a lot of enemies and they must know about us, and Roxy. She is putting us all in danger," she frowned, not sure how to process that part.
"Yes, but only minimally. She's protective, always vigilant, and she would rather die that let anything happen to Roxy," Fred reminded.
"Another part of me is terrified for her. She might not come back from this one, and if she does, what state will she be in? How do we explain this to Roxy? How can we take care of her without Roxy knowing something is wrong?" he worried, his daughter always number one on his list.
Fred shook his head. "You can't. Roxy already knows something is wrong, you underestimate her ability to observe. She learned that from Hermione," he wrapped an arm around his shoulder and squeezed him tighter.
"The last part of me is worried senseless for her," he admitted, turning his head to look at his twin.
"So am I," Fred agreed, before falling silent as the rest didn't need to be voiced.
They both loved her, and somehow just like each other they were able to sense when something was wrong with her. But they didn't just love her, nay, they were both in love with her. And Roxy couldn't imagine ever being without her Mimi. She was a part of their lives and they wouldn't accept it any other way. There was no sense of rivalry, no tension, just a silent agreement that it was time they addressed their feelings for her.
But first, she needed to return to them….