All characters belong to JKR

Part II

Everything that happened next happened very quickly. Regulus passed out. He slumped lifeless, nothing but dead weight, against Hermione, causing her to fall over on the wrong side of the gate. She struggled to reach up for the lock with her wand when two men came running out of the house toward them.

The first man tore open the gate and practically pulled Regulus Black off her. The second man picked her up, effortlessly, and dragged her into the house. She didn't protest, though she knew she should. The men, both vampires, took their charges through the front door, up a grand staircase, down a long, narrow corridor and then up another narrow staircase, to a room on the third floor.

The man who held her arm in his hand practically threw her into the corner of the room, after having taken her wand from her. The other man placed Regulus gently upon a giant bed and pulled open his black coat and shirt.

"What was he staked with, woman?" the man beside her asked harshly.

"My wand," she offered.

The first man looked at the wand in his hand and then toward the man who attended the vampire on the bed. "A wand," he repeated. "Black was staked with a wand. No wonder he's not healing yet." He handed the wand to the older looking vampire.

The man helping Regulus on the bed sighed, looked at Hermione in the corner, then the wand now resting in his hand and accusingly said, "Yes, no wonder."

"I didn't stake him!" she offered.

"I never said you did," the man beside the bed said. He looked at the other man, who appeared younger, and said, "Abel, go get the healer." The younger vampire left the room.

"May I help?" Hermione asked.

"No, but stay there," the man attending Regulus ordered. He held her wand out behind him. She stepped forward to take it. "What is your name?" He looked over his shoulder.

"Hermione Granger," she said.

The man gave a spark of recollection and then stood quickly. "Stay with him for a moment, Hermione Granger," he said before he turned to leave the room.

"Wait," Hermione called out. "What's your name?"

"Cain," he answered.

"Wait? Abel and Cain? Cain and Abel?" she repeated.

"Yes, Abel is my brother. We aren't the original Cain and Abel, though. They're merely names that Black calls us, because we appear to hate each other," he said with a spark of humour in his eyes. "Now, stay with him please. I'll return in a moment."

"Is he going to die?" she asked.

"It's not a good thing that he was stabbed with a magical object. We're vampires, but wizards, too, here in this coven. The one sure way to kill a magical vampire is with a magic wand used as a stake to the heart." With that said, he rushed from the room.

Hermione hurried over to the bed quickly. She looked down at the face of Regulus Black. A face she had only ever seen in portraits. No, that wasn't true. She had seen it many a night in her dreams. She wanted to help him somehow, but she hesitated. She didn't know what to do, and somehow, she felt this was wholly her fault. She looked at the thick, dark blood as it siphoned slowly out of a hole in his chest, smaller now than it was before. She leaned closer to examine it. His shirt was opened all the way to his trousers. His ribs stood out like knives against his skin. His skin was pallid and almost transparent looking.

Nevertheless, he was beautiful.

His hair was long, dark, and so thick. He had thick eyebrows and the longest eyelashes she had ever seen on a man. She reached out, tentatively, and stroked his fringe of bangs away from his face. His skin was cool and smooth, like porcelain.

And when he stared at her earlier, he looked upon her with the palest, most striking blue eyes she had ever seen. She was breathing hard from her earlier exertion and from the thought that she had finally found him.

Pictures and portraits did not do this man justice. Every rendering she had ever gaze upon had left out fascinating details, such as the flat brown nipples on his chest, the definition of his muscles that seems hard and soft at the same time. She reached out to touch the muscles across his abdomen. She imagined he would be cold, as fAbel led people to believe about vampires, but he was warm. She wondered what his warm skin would feel like next to hers.

Now that she found him, what did she intend to do? She looked around what she could only assume was his bedchamber and reflected on that very thing. She started to open a book that was on the bedside table when a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, shocking her.

She looked into his astonished gaze and was temporarily stunned into submission. She blushed with embarrassment, but then said, "Mr. Black, are you alright?"

The man winced faintly, though he held her wrist as tightly as before. She gasped as his large fingers snaked around her wrist. It wasn't so much that he was holding her captive, but that he was staking possession of her. Forgetting how to breathe for a moment, she stumbled slightly, trying to pull away. He took advantage of that, and even in his weakened state, he had ten times her strength. He pulled her closer, forcing her to sit beside him on the bed.

He said, "Why such formality now? It was Regulus when you talked to me earlier. Tell me, sweetness, how do you know my name? How did you find my coven? And lastly, how did you know I was vampire?"

She reached for the end of the covers with her free hand, (for he still had the other in his grasp) and she dabbed at the wound on his chest, which was growing smaller still. He grimaced slightly, revealing strong, white, but quite normal looking teeth. "Before I answer, we need to take care of your wound." She wrenched her wrist free, went over to a small bathroom off the bedroom, grabbed a cloth, wet it, and returned.

Pressing the damp cloth against the blood on his chest, she wiped it a few times. Closing her eyes, she uttered one of the few healing spells she could remember. While her eyes were closed, he examined her closely. He found the woman before him fascinating, yet arousing.

She couldn't be older than twenty or twenty-one years old, yet he felt that she must have had a hard life, for she seemed to have nerves of steel. She was dressed plainly, and wore little if any makeup. Her lips were pale pink and full, even inviting. Her hair was pulled back from her face, but unruly strands were sticking out all over, making a sort of halo effect around her face. Her face was lovely, pure and sweet. What would such a vision of loveliness, with an aura so white and pure, want with a vampire such as himself?

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to think on it. He hated what his life had become, but it had become as such by his own bidding, so he would have to live with his regrets. His thick eyelashes fell evenly on his cheeks. He relaxed and a sigh escaped his mouth. She sat down by his hip, lifted the cloth to his brow and wiped it slowly.

He opened his eyes and pinned her with his gaze. A strange sensation passed between them and neither could move or speak. He reached for her face. He swiped his fingertips down her cheek, leaving a slight bloody trail. He said, "I'm sorry," and licked his lips. Then he asked, "How is your hand?"

She forgot that she had hurt her hand earlier. She looked down at it, the gash still red and swollen. She lied and said, "It's fine."

"What's your name again? Did you already tell me?" He seemed confused. The hand that had reached for her cheek was resting in her lap. She held it in both of hers and answered.

"I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm a witch."

"Ah, of course you are," he said with a weary sigh. "Your blood, on your hand, it smells so different. I can't place the smell."

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said, dropping his hand beside his body. She took the cloth that she had used on his and wrapped it around her hand. She felt suddenly nervous.

"What were you doing out there, all alone, Hermione Granger? Don't you know that there are dangers out in the world waiting to harm little witches like yourself?" He smiled and then moaned. "There are dangers to you in here, too, in this den of inequity, this coven, this hovel. You're like a dainty, little mouse thrown deep into a lions den, Miss Granger." His hand reached for a strand of hair that had come out of the clip and was resting on her shoulder. He played with the end and repeated, "Yes, my sweet little, precious mouse."

He reached for her face again, but pulled back. "Why are you here? Why do you look at me as if you know me?" he finally asked.

She started to answer, but a fury of movement into the room stopped her. The younger vampire entered first, with an older gentleman. She was literally moved aside by the healer. Both Hermione and Regulus started to protest, but then Regulus let out another moan as the man began to exam him.

Hermione said, "I've already healed him," but no one seemed to pay her any mind, so she started toward the door, feeling useless, invasive. The slightly older vampire, Cain, the one with dark curly hair, walked into the room and stood over the healer and patient.

"Don't let her leave," Regulus snarled.

Realizing he meant her, Hermione remained in the room. The vampire with the curls smiled at her and motioned toward the corner, to a soft chair. She sat down, gladly. She felt trapped half in a nightmare, half in a dream. She looked around the room. Decorated in shades of blue and grey, it was lovely. There was resplendent artwork on the walls, lush velvet drapes, thick carpeting, and large mahogany furniture.

By contrast, though, it felt like a lonely place. An air of sadness permeated the air. She sunk into the chair, and closed her eyes for a moment, to block out the sights and sounds and the sadness. The younger vampire, Abel, who in contrast to his brother had long blond hair, which was straight and pulled back with a piece of leather cord, stood beside her, but didn't say a word.

Soon she was unnoticed in her own little corner, in her own little chair. The healer left when he noticed that Regulus had already been healed. Lying on the bed, Regulus began to explain to his two brethren what had transpired between him, her, and the two 'rogue' vampires. Since Hermione was well acquainted with the story, she tuned them out.

Removing her coat, she placed it across the back of the chair. Holding her painful, injured hand with her other hand, she wondered what lay beyond this bedroom. The outside of this house was dark and ominous, but if the rest of the inside were decorated as grandly and impressively as this room, she would love to explore. She had so many questions to ask this vampire. She wanted to know more about Sirius. She wanted to know more about their childhood. She had questions about his time as a Death Eater. She wanted to know how and why he became a vampire.

Then suddenly, she realized that she had no right to any make inquiries of this man. He left their world for a reason, and her morbid fascination and curiosity wasn't enough of a reason to disrupt this man's life. This was no mere coven. This was a home.

His home. His safe haven.

Certainly, no den of inequity, as she imagined, though the man had thrown that phrase out to her earlier. She suddenly stood, feeling out of place. She shouldn't be here. She didn't know what she wanted with this place, or from this man, but she knew she had no business being here. He had worked hard, for many years, to hide from the mainstream wizarding world. Who was she to bring him out of anonymity?

She never reckoned she would actually find him and now that she had, she didn't know what to do. She started to walk casually, softly, and quietly toward the bedroom door, all the while watching the three men talking…Regulus on the bed, the brothers around it.

She stood by the door, almost in the hallway, and decided that she should go back and marry Ron, get a job with the Ministry, do all the things that were expected of her now that the war was over. Greet all the things that were waiting for her. Like a good girl should.

Except – even as she slipped from the room and looked down the long dark corridor toward what she hoped was the stairs, she found that her feet felt like leaden weights. She felt compelled to stay. Compelled to stay and find out why she was obsessed with a man she had only just met tonight.

She stood on the other side of the doorway and watched as the blonde vampire, Abel, kneeled before the man on the bed and then he rose up and walked toward her. She thought he would question her as to where she thought she was going. He merely looked at her, snarled, and walked away.

The older brother, Cain, leaned down as Regulus reached up for his arm. The vampire on the bed whispered something in the other man's ear. Hermione couldn't hear what was said. She only imagined that it concerned her. The man nodded, walked toward her, smiled and then closed the door, with her on one side and Regulus and himself on the other.

Was that it? Was she free to go? Did no one care that she was here? What if she told someone their location? What if she told the Ministry? If the Ministry knew that Regulus Black was still alive, they would want to question him. He was a former Death Eater. These men were vampires. They should be watched and regulated by their government.

She knew she wouldn't tell anyone that she found them, but they couldn't possibly know that. Still, she turned to leave, pondering these and other things, when she felt a hand on her arm. She turned back around slowly. It was the blond vampire named Abel. "Where are you going?"

"Home," she said, though it sounded feeble even to her.

"I don't think so, pretty girl. You need to stay here for a while, at least until we know what to do with you. First though, Black needs to gain his strength. He lost a lot of blood."

"Oh, of course," she said, repeating, "he lost a lot of blood." Did they have access to a replenishment potion?

"Right, so he'll need to feed and after he's done he'll talk with you."

Hermione's hand went up to her neck, out of instinct. "Feed?"

"Yes, feed," Abel said, finally smiling, and showing her a flash of fang. "Black wants to talk to you, but he needs to feed first. It is what we do."

"From who will he feed?" she found herself asking aloud.

He smiled just a bit and said, "You could always offer yourself. You do smell sweet, and you already have a cut on your hand that hasn't healed yet. Might taste sweet as well, and it was your fault he was out there and he was stabbed with your wand." He took a step closer.

"But I saved his life!" she protested.

He took another step closer. He placed a hand on the wall by her head. Leaning forward, he inhaled deeply. His smile vanished and his mouth opened. His fangs elongated and with speech that wasn't impaired in the least he said, "Ah, pretty girl, you do smell sweet."

"Abel!" Someone from the doorway hissed. "Leave the girl alone! Black said she's not to be harmed."

"I wasn't going to harm her," he said, winking at Hermione. He looked over his shoulder at his brother and said, "You're such an old mother hen, Cain." He pushed away from the wall and walked down the long, third floor hallway. Cain raised his chin toward Hermione and motioned that she was to come back into the room with his head.

She gladly followed.

"He's resting now. Sit here until he wakes back up. You can't leave until he tells you that you can, you hear. It would be no good to try. Black needs you to stay, so you stay. And don't you dare hurt him. I know you have your wand, but you won't be able to leave even if you try. When he wakes up, he'll tell you what he wants to do with you," Cain explained. He smiled at her again, placed a chair right next to the bed, and pushed her down into it, before he started back out the door.

He was closing it as she said, "What do you think he'll do with me?"

He didn't answer.

"Your brother said he needed to feed. Shouldn't he attend to that first?" she inquired as well.

Cain didn't say anything to that statement either. He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

She turned back to the vampire on the bed. He appeared to be sleeping. It was nighttime. As her new friend, Sanguini explained, folly and folklore led Muggles and others to believe that vampires slept during the day and hunted at night. The truth was that at one time they mainly went out only at night so that they wouldn't be noticed. Sunlight wouldn't kill them. It didn't cause their skin to sparkle or any such shite, but it did hurt their eyes and it could weaken them.

"I'm not up for being a midnight snack, so you behave," she said to the sleeping vampire. She wondered if the other vampire, Cain, had fed him when the door was closed a moment ago. Leaning forward in the chair, she added softly, "And why would he warn me against hurting you? I wouldn't hurt you." She nodded with a 'so there' and then leaned back in her chair.

"You did kill a man tonight, though," he said before he opened his eyes. "So you can't blame my coven brethren from worrying."

She flinched slightly and jumped in her seat. "Oh, you're awake. About that, you know as well as I do that he was going to kill me," she labored.

"No…he was going to kill me first," Regulus said. He sat up in his bed. He grimaced slightly, a look of pain marring his brilliant, good looks for a mere second. "Of course, those two wouldn't have been out there if they hadn't caught a whiff of you. They were here tonight, visiting our dear friend Abel, and after they left, they smelled you and then THEY, in your own words, decided to have you for a snack. All in all, it's your fault that I'm hurt."

"Wait," she argued, "You told me earlier that I saved your life!"

"I must have been delirious," he murmured.

Hermione crossed her legs and said, "I am not at all responsible for what happened to you!"

He raised an eyebrow and said, "Oh really? If you hadn't been in that alley, watching this house, I wouldn't have had to come down and investigate. I could have killed those two common bloodsuckers on my own, easily, but I was distracted by you. I just wanted to make that point before you said anything about saving my life and whatnot."

She folded her arms around her and kept her mouth closed, though there was so much she wanted to say.

"Come here, closer," he urged suddenly.

"No," she said, guardedly.

"Please, I want to talk to you, and you're entirely too far away. I'm weak."

"You need blood, that's why you're weak, that other vampire said so," Hermione reasoned.

Regulus grinned. "Is that why you won't come closer? I won't take your vein; have no fear, Miss Granger."

"You're an injured vampire who needs blood, so I still say I'll stay over here, with my wand out and ready, thank you very much. Sanguini warned me about vampires in the midst of bloodlust. He said they often can't control themselves. Sanguini told me it sometimes takes centuries for a vampire to learn such control, and you haven't been a vampire for that long."

"How the hell would you know how long I've been a vampire? Likewise, how do you know Sanguini?" Regulus pushed the covers from his body, cursed a few times and planted his feet on the floor. "What would that fool know of bloodlust? Is that how you found me, from him? How do you know that idiot? Did he tell you where to find my coven? Did he send you to pester me? How like him. What a fool." He stood up and pointed toward the bedroom door.

He barked, "You can leave now. If you tell a soul where to find my coven, or anything about me or mine, I'll kill you, Miss Granger, of that you can be certain! Go back and tell Sanguini that I don't want him to send any other little chits my way, for if he does, I just might show him what true bloodlust is like, starting with him!"

When she didn't move from her chair he said, "Well, don't you want to leave?"

She stood up, her body close to his and said, "Yes, I'd like to leave, and I promise that I'll never tell a soul that you're alive or where to find you, but I swear on my own life that no one told me how to find your coven. I don't know how that happened, and as for Sanguini, he told me about vampires, but not really about you. I've known all about you forever."

He grabbed her upper arms and held them tightly, almost painfully. She wouldn't show fear, or pain, however. "How do you know of me? How did you know my name before?"

"Because I knew your brother, Sirius Black," she whispered. "He was a very important person to me."

He looked shocked. He removed his hands from her arms. She rubbed both arms, unconsciously. He thought she did it to wipe away the thought of a vampire touching her, though she actually did it out of instinct. He sat on the edge of his bed and said, "You knew my brother?"

Before she could answer, he called out to one of the other vampires. "CAIN! ABEL!"

The curly haired vampire ran into the room, but slid to a stop when he saw Hermione merely standing before Regulus who sat on the bed. "Yes, Black?"

"Fix a room for our guest. I've decided that she won't be going anywhere for a while."