All characters belong to JKR

From the last chapter:

She looked for her wand. It was gone.

Out in the hallway, on the other side of the door, he said, "This is for the best, Hermione Granger. I want to be the man you want me to be, but I'll always be the monster, full of anger, who only wants you for your blood. You'll stay in there until the morning, and in the morning Cain will escort you home. You are never to return. You'll never tell a soul you found me. You will forget about me."

She banged on the door with both fists. "You can't make me forget about you!" she shouted. "I won't forget! If nothing else, I'll always have the memories from the journal!"

Suddenly, she looked at the dresser, for the journal.

He had taken that along with her wand.

She slipped to the floor by the door, and cried.

Part VI:

Hermione knew the minute she set foot over the threshold of this Coven the night before, and even after spending a second night here, that there was nothing natural about this place, especially when she thought of what might be taking place on the second floor. Sanguini warned her that she might not find what she would hope to find here. He said that most vampires retained very little of their humanity. He told her that Regulus Black wouldn't want her here, yet she came anyway.

She cursed that fact that she found Regulus' journal in the first place. She cursed the fact that she romanticized the man that was into the man that apparently was never going to be again. Most of all, she cursed the fact that she had foolishly given up 'real love', tangible love, with Ron, to seek an 'unattainable love' with a man who claimed he was now a monster.

Lastly, she cursed her morbid curiosity for coming here, and for seeking out Sanguini, who told her of this place. She knew that the time for regret was over; it was time for action. Hermione Granger was nobody's fool. She wasn't weak. She was smart and resourceful and she had to go home! However, she had to show the utmost patience, because she couldn't get home by herself. She couldn't even leave this room because she didn't even have her wand.

She had no real inclination as to the time. She might have been crying on the floor all night or perhaps only a few hours. Regulus told her that she disgusted him, but then from the other side of the door, he said that he couldn't be the man that she wanted him to be. He took his journal and her wand, and left her alone. Yet twice during the night, she heard footsteps on the other side of the door, as if someone was monitoring her.

The door was locked, so she was a prisoner, but somehow she felt if she tried to escape, she would be able to do so.

One thing was certain: Regulus Black, the young man, the former Death Eater, once so full of wrath and hate at the Dark Lord, was no longer that man. He told her he was a monster. She was beginning to believe him. Sanguini's warning was true – Regulus Black was no longer the man from his journals. He was no longer a man at all, in any way, shape or form.

She had slipped out of the long gown and back into her clothes a few hours ago, after finding her clothing at the bottom of the wardrobe. Now that all tears were gone, and the weariness that had crept upon her slowly during the night had disappeared, she felt a renewed vigor and was eager to find a way to escape this madhouse and go home. She would go back to Ron. He still wanted to marry her. It may not be the life she envisioned for herself, but it was comfortable, safe and real. It was familiar. She would go back to all things familiar.

Finding fortitude she didn't know she possessed, she went to the windows and threw the curtains aside for at least the fifth time. Each time she came to the windows, she looked for a way to escape, and each time she deemed escape impossible. The windows were locked with key locks on the inside, and had iron bars on the outside. It was odd that the bars would be on the outside. Were they to keep people in the house? Usually bars were meant to keep people out, not in.

Both windows of this room were large, and the room faced another brick building. Hermione pressed her cheek to the glass and tried to look at the sky above. It was gray, which only meant it was either dawn or evening. She truly had lost all sense of time. Pressing her face to the glass again, she tried to peer down below. She was three stories high. Even if she managed to open the windows, would she die from a jump this high?

Finally, frustrated from lack of sleep, and from her general confusion at the events that occurred with Regulus, she picked up a chair and with all her might, swung it toward the windows, screaming as loud as she could as the wood encountered the glass. The legs of the chair splintered, glass shattered everywhere, but the bars on the outside remained steadfast and unmoving. Hermione stepped closer to the window, using her bare hands to knock aside what was left of the glass and wooden windowpanes. She gripped the iron bars with both hands and screamed as loud as she could, in aggravation, anger, and fear.

She wanted to leave this place, right now!

There was the sound of footsteps – several – outside her door, then the sound of a key in the lock. The door opened. She turned quickly to face her subjugators. As she turned, her hand slid from one of the outside bars, down an angled piece of glass. The shard of glass sliced her hand open from her palm to her wrist. It was the exact same hand that she had lacerated in the alley the night she saved him.

She clenched her fist, staring at Regulus, Cain and Abel as they all stood in her doorway, staring back at her.

"What's going on in here?" Regulus demanded.

Breathing hard, she said, "Let me out of here. I want to go home."

Standing behind Black's left shoulder, the blond vampire said, "She knows too much, Black. We can't let her go. She will tell others how to find us."

Behind his right shoulder, the dark haired vampire said, "We still need to find out how she found us. Did Sanguini reveal more than we suspect? Did she follow him here, or did he bring her here himself? I agree with my brother, we can't let her go, not until we know more."

Regulus ignored them both, stepped forward and inhaled deeply. "You're bleeding," he said softly.

"The window," she offered. "It broke, or rather, I broke it, but that's beside the point. I demand you let me go! I want to go home. You can't keep me here. Sanguini didn't tell me how to find this place, I swear. I found it on my own, and I'll not tell a soul I was here, but the longer you keep me here, the more suspicious my friends will become." She held her lacerated hand with her other hand.

He stepped closer. "Is that the same hand you cut in the alleyway?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered. "What does it matter?"

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeper. Before he knew it, the blond vampire stepped around him and closer to her. "Let me have her, Black. She smells so good."

"No, I want her," Abel argued from the other side. Hermione hadn't thought to fear the darker vampire before, but the expression on his face at that moment was terrifying. It was bloodlust, pure and simple.

Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth and the weight of someone pressed her against a wall, practically forcing all of the air from her lungs. Frantically, she tried to fight off the person she recognized as Cain, as she noticed Abel and Black fighting in the middle of the room.

Hands groped at her clothing, tearing her shirt collar down. Her hand was brought up to the blond vampire's mouth and he placed it inside, his sharp fangs piercing the tender flesh. She screamed so loudly that she almost choked on her own cries.

In the corner of the room, she was vaguely aware of a snarling sound, of growling, almost as if wild beasts were in the room. She saw what she could only assume were two men rolling around on the floor, struggling, fighting.

The vampire who held her let go of her hand and repositioned her. She let out a whimper but continued to fight, though she felt weak and dazed. She noticed blood streaming from her hand as the vampire held her back to his chest, moved her hair aside, and his fangs skimmed against her neck.

She thought she was going to die.

As suddenly as it all began, it ended. She sank to the floor, opened her eyes, and realized she was alone in the room with Black. He walked away from the door after having barred it with a spell from his wand. He dropped down to look at her on the floor. She clutched at her neck.

"Are they gone?" she asked, still dazed.

"Yes."

"Did you fight them both?"

"Yes." His face was blank, expressionless, and she began to tremble. When he saw her so weak, so helpless on the floor, he knew it was his fault and he cringed. He scooped her into his arms, tenderly, effortlessly, and carried her over to the bed. He sat down with her on his lap.

She still had one hand on her neck. With a gentleness that he didn't know he possessed, he removed her fingers, one by one, then lifted her hand and placed it in her lap. He said, "It's not so bad." He placed his thumb in his mouth, licked it with his tongue, and then with his wet finger, he rubbed over the two puncture wounds to heal them.

She lay so still against his chest, eyes closed, that at first he wondered if she had passed out. He lifted her hand, and though he didn't want to disgust her, he knew he could heal it better with his saliva than with his wand. He placed her hand to his mouth.

He watched the door as he did. No one dare to come in and challenge him again. They would know better. He would never give her up now. Never. Lost in his thoughts of rage and possession, he didn't realize she was sobbing until he finally released her hand and glanced back down at her face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, quietly. With care, he brought his hand to her cheek to brush away the tears and asked, "Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

She shook her head no. Did that mean, 'no, she wasn't okay', or 'no, she wasn't hurt'? He wouldn't ask her to explain, because she was finally starting to relax against his chest. He noticed that he was rubbing his free hand up and down her arms, over her shoulder, to her face and hair. The other hand was splayed across her hip and back, holding her up to him closely. He moved this hand up her side so that it was under her arm. His thumb rubbed the side of her breast. She closed her eyes again.

He moved his head down and kissed her closed eyes. She opened them just as he brushed his lips across her mouth for another gentle kiss. "Why did you really come here, Hermione Granger?"

"The truth?" she asked.

He nodded.

"In a way, I don't know," she said hoarsely. She placed her head in the crook of his neck and continued. "I've been so restless. I've wanted something more for so long, but I didn't know what. I want to help those who can't help themselves, but I can't do that in my present life. I don't want the safety and security of being Ron's wife, and Harry's friend, and having a tidy little job at the Ministry."

"Also, I know you don't want to hear this, but I really did fall in love with the man from those journals, even if he no longer exists."

"How did you come to find Sanguini?" He rocked her back and forth as he asked his questions.

"I remembered him from a Christmas party at Hogwarts. Something in your journal led me to believe that you were going to seek him out after you tried to find the locket Horcrux, and that you were going to try to defeat the final death, much like Voldemort did, but that you were going to do it by becoming a vampire."

Black replied, "I was so young. I thought I could defeat the Dark Lord, but I knew I couldn't. I had to have him believe I was dead, and in many ways, I really had to die, so I did seek out the vampire, Sanguini. The vampires were the only creatures that refused to follow the Dark Lord, although one would think they would be perfect minions for him. However, they follow no one. They don't care about blood purity. They only care that blood is red."

She looked up at him and he smiled. She thought he looked so handsome, so altered, when he smiled. Softer. Human.

"I told him what I was planning to do, and I told him that I wanted to become like him after I did it, and he actually tried to persuade me otherwise, but I wouldn't be swayed. He didn't change me himself. He said he couldn't live with himself if he did, so he had someone else do it. It was the most painful thing I had ever gone through."

"Afterward, I felt more rage and wrath than I did as a human being, because my hatred for the Dark Lord and all that he had made us do, and all that he stood for was still there, but now I was consumed with bloodlust. I was no longer human. I regretted my decision immediately. It would have been better to die, I thought, than live in this walking death, but I had made my choice, and I kept my secret, as did others. The Dark Lord never found me. Everyone, including my own brother, assumed I died. In many ways, I did."

Hermione reached up with her hand, the hand he had just healed, and touched his cheek softly. "But you're not dead. You're here, and you've not lost your humanity. Why would you even think that? You're still a man to me. You're still capable of loving and living, perhaps differently, but it's still living, just the same. You're not dead. You're alive. Very alive. If you were dead, I couldn't touch you, talk to you, and want you so very much."

He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. His hand came up and sank into her soft hair. Finally, he cradled her face in his large hands, moved so they were both lying on the bed, and swept his hands down her sides, lingering on her breasts, then her stomach and hips.

He watched the trembling pulse in her neck. How easy it would be to take her blood. He wanted to. He knew she tasted sweet. Nevertheless, she had faith in him, in which no one else had ever had, and he wanted to be a good person, alive and good, a man, for her. He started to undress her and passively, she let him.

Cain had already torn at her clothing so they practically hung on her anyway. He removed the remains of her top and jeans. Sinking to his knees beside her, he placed his hands on her breasts and rubbed the middles until he saw the dimples of her nipples through the thin material of her bra. He leaned down and kissed her cleavage, and she moved slightly underneath him, and placed her hands upon his arms.

He reached for her shoulders and removed her straps, pulling the bra down slowly. His gaze never left her body; her gaze never left his eyes. He looked overwhelmed and consumed, but she knew he was showing ultimate restraint. Just as slowly, his hands roamed down her flat stomach to her hips, and removed her knickers. She was breathing hard with anticipation and want.

He was clenching his jaw, trying to reign in the monster and show her the man. His fingers continued down her legs, behind her knees, to her calves, then back up her thighs on the outside, the tops, his thumbs easing closer to her apex.

He sat back and drew his coat and shirt off, and she watched as if she was hypnotized. He was so beautiful, breathtaking, really. She smiled at him but he didn't return her smile. He stood from the bed and removed his trousers with infinite care, and again she watched, almost in wonder. His legs were long and muscular. He wore nothing under his trousers; he was standing naked in front of her. She gazed upon him, and again she smiled.

This time, he couldn't help it - he smiled back. Who was this woman? He was going to love every minute of this. He had to be careful. He had to go slow. He couldn't frighten her. He couldn't give into bloodlust. This had to be a man loving a woman, and no more. No more.

He wasn't sure he remembered how to make love as a man, but for her, he would try. He would strive for self-control and tenderness. He moved with catlike grace back up the bed, his body skimming hers, skin on skin. His lips kissed her knee, her leg, the inside of her thigh, her pelvis, and her stomach. He placed both hands around her stomach and kissed it again and again, before moving up to her breasts.

She flinched slightly and closed her eyes again. He begged her to open them, begged her not to be afraid of him, but only in his mind. As if she could read his mind, she opened her eyes. He kept her gaze as he kissed around the gentle slope of one breast. It was so soft and luscious. He lifted his head and said, "I won't hurt you, you know. I promise."

"I know, I trust you," she returned.

"You shouldn't," he said with a half smile.

She returned his smile and said, "That remains to be seen." She stroked his face, as it rested practically on her bare breast, and he turned into her hand and kissed the middle of her palm. Then he turned back to her breast, lifted it with his hand, and rounded the center with his thumb, before he did the same with his tongue.

The instant his tongue touched her nipple she arched her back and almost sprang up from the bed. He did the same to the other breast, and soon he was sucking, kissing and nibbling while his hand moved all around her lower body, not yet touching the place she most wished to be touched.

"Please," she moaned softly.

He understood and placed his hand between her thighs, cupping her softly, as his mouth came up to hers to kiss her passionately. His hand played with her, two fingers entering and parting her with extreme care, pressing, rubbing, circling, grasping, breathing, shouting, shuddering, coming undone… yes.

Hermione came strongly from nothing but his hand and his kisses. As she was in the middle of her orgasm, he climbed on top, nudged her legs apart with his own, and carefully placed himself at her opening.

"Is this what you want?" he asked.

"More than anything," she replied.

He pushed inside so slowly she thought she would die from want. She cried out, he groaned, until they were finally completely joined. He held her to him, immersed in her tight warmth. He wanted to sink his teeth in her. Ever since he had become a vampire, he had always taken blood when he had sex. Always. It was as if he couldn't complete the act unless he did both. They were two halves of a whole. He felt her breath on his shoulder, felt her delicate hands move up and down his back, and he let the blood lust wash away, and let the passion overtake him.

Then he knew he could continue one without the other. He pushed against her, a gentle slide, push and release, an easy rhythm, nothing hard, nothing violent, no anger, no wrath, no pain. Even as his instinct told him to take her hard and savagely, to cause pain, he was able to tamp that instinct down because he felt so good wrapped in her arms, in her warmness, in her body.

She clenched around him and his head dropped to her shoulder. She reached up and stroked his long, black hair, tenderly. His mouth moved back down to her nipples as he continued to glide in and out of her. As another wave of pleasure descended upon her, she wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, vowing to herself never to let go. He sank into the feeling, giving it all to her, and when he was satiated, fulfilled, and shaking with his release, he wrapped his arms around her as well.

Falling to his side, he pulled her to him. His lips drifted over her forehead and hair. "I've never done that without taking blood," he confessed in a soft whisper.

She was quiet for a moment, after his confession, before she asked, "Do you want to take my blood?"

He propped up on his elbow. "Would you allow that?" He gazed down into her eyes, brown, warm, and so very alive.

"If that's what you want," she said. "I want it, too."

He shook his head no, lay back on the pillow, and pulled her to his chest. "No. I feel peaceful and happy for a change. I still want your blood, make no mistake about that, but I know now that I can have one without the other. It's a good feeling."

"Are you happy?" she asked. She rubbed her hand in small circles upon his chest.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not sure I've ever been happy, so I'm not certain I would know what it feels like." He lifted her chin with one hand so that she was forced to gaze up at him. "Are you happy?"

"Yes, oh yes," she said. "And I love you, too."

He exhaled a breath and said, "I can't say that in return. Not yet. I'm sorry."

Only one more chapter to this part of the series, and then on to the next story in the series, "Envy" which will be my very first Snape/Hermione story!