Disclaimer: We all know I do not own this…the only thing I own is Monotagari Kuro.
A/N: Is anyone reading this out of curiosity? shrugs Anyway, if you are sorry for the long wait. I wanted to have an update up no later than Monday, but I caught my kids cold and didn't exactly feel like writing all last week. I felt horrible…couldn't breathe through my nose…my mother even held me down like a child to try to force this stupid spray up my nose…gods! Anyway…here's the update now. Please review and let me know what you think…okay? Please?
Chapter Two
DarknessFalls
The house was dark and quiet giving the false sense of emptiness. Hermione silently descended the stairs…white satin robe fanning out behind her as it was not closed. She walked through the main room of the house, her bare feet slapping against the cool floor. As she passed through the main room something caught her eye. She stepped toward the wall of windows, positive she had just seen some sort of movement. She stood in front of the window-wall staring into the dark night. She couldn't figure out if she had actually seen anything or if her concerns over the reason the Malfoys were there were getting to her. After all, she had a secret keeper…no one could see in her house, or even see the house without her secret keeper telling.
She kept staring off in the night hoping to catch some glimpse of something to prove her not insane. She saw nothing though and turned back in the direction she was going. When she stepped into the kitchen she found a set of stormy grey eyes look up at her. Draco was sitting on a bar stool at the counter. As his eyes raked up her form, she nervously closed her robe before pushing the rest of the way into the kitchen.
He was pouty; she could tell that just by the way he sat at the counter staring at his own hands. It was not the vision of the Draco Malfoy she was accustomed to dealing with. She stood across the counter from him. Keeping her robe wrapped around her, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the young man who currently held the appearance of a child. He looked back at her again, irritated with her unabashed staring.
"What, Granger," he snapped, defensive walls rising up.
"You're not alone, Malfoy," she said as she turned around to pull out two mugs from an upper cabinet.
"What," he asked not even trying to hide his irritation.
She turned and set a kettle on the stove while she poured a packet of brown powder into each mug. Hermione wasn't answering him and Draco could only watch her suspiciously. When the water in the kettle began to boil, Hermione turned her back to Draco, facing the stove.
"You are not the only one to have lost a loved one to Voldemort," she said in a low, soft voice.
"You can't allow yourself to become an empty shell because of your loss…if you do, he's won…even in death."
When she turned around, she sat what was now a mug of hot cocoa in front of Draco. He eyed it warily as he looked up at Hermione sipping on her cup. He looked back down at the hot cocoa.
"Got any marshmallows, Granger?"
Hermione lowered her cup.
"What," she asked almost too shocked to respond at his sudden question.
There was no sarcasm in his tone…no malice…no disdain…just understanding. With a sigh Draco spoke slowly, as if talking to a small child.
"Marshmallows, Granger? Do…you…have…any…marsh…mall…ows?"
Rolling her eyes at Draco, she reached into another cabinet and produced a bag of mini marshmallows. She sat them on the counter. Draco reached in, grabbing a small handful that he put in his drink. Hermione reached in plopping a few marshmallows into her own drink.
"You know, whether you would like to admit it or not, we're not that different, you and I," Hermione said as she walked around the counter, leaving the kitchen.
Draco watched her leave the kitchen, not sure what he should feel. Weren't they very different? No matter who won the war, no matter which side of the line the Malfoys ended up on, it didn't change the fact that Hermione Granger was and would always be a Mudblood and he a pure-blood. Yes, they were very different.
But they both lost a parent to the same man…essentially.
That was a commonality he could not deny.
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Lucius awoke the following morning to the soothing pitter pattering sounds of rain. It was indeed the summer months, but that didn't mean it was unheard of to experience a summer rain. Descending the stairs after dressing, the muffled sounds of conversation across the main room in the dining area floated up to his ears. As the dining room came into view, Lucius discovered the source of the voices.
At the table Hermione sat across from Draco. Vanessa was bustling around them placing breakfast dishes on the table. As he drew closer, he discovered the conversation was not in a constant flow, having not reached a comfortable moment between them. With a curt nod to both of them, Lucius took the seat obviously reserved for him by the plate sitting before the seat. With another quick glance toward his son, he could tell Draco had something on his mind. It was written in his pale features and the line that had formed on his forehead between his eyes.
Who did this girl think she was? Who did she think she was to say such things to him as she had said the night before? Who did she think she was to be right about it all as well? Draco shoved a piece of toast into his mouth as if the toast itself had caused him some sort of distress and would now pay for it. Hermione looked up with wide eyes at Draco's barbarian style of eating that morning.
"Draco," Lucius said in his very aristocratic voice…a voice that let Draco know he was not behaving in a way a Malfoy should behave.
"Sorry, father," Draco said looking down at his plate thoroughly chagrined.
Hermione smiled slightly at the little exchange as she took a bite of food. They were so…proper with each other. She couldn't remember ever being like that with her father and she wondered if Draco was ever allowed to be a kid as well or was he always expected to be a mini adult? Ignoring the icy eyes of Lucius Malfoy, she turned toward the glass wall. His eyes seemed to stay on her since his arrival the day before. She could feel them. Still she stared out into the rain watching it batter the windows as if it were trying to get in.
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He sat at the end of the long dark dining room table. The front of his dark hair was tied back behind his head, samurai style. Behind him stood a total of six men—three on each side. Each one stood at attention, poised and ready for whatever Monogatari Kuro would demand. Slowly, he chewed the raw meat that graced his plate. He chewed as if savoring the flavor.
He could hear them in the distance. The sound of their dragon hide boots clunking across his marble floor. With his head still bowed down toward his plate he took in a deep breath as if inhaling something in the air.
He could smell it.
It permeated the air.
Their fear.
A small sadistic smile graced his lips. Insanity seemed to dance in his eyes as they drifted up to greet the opening doors of the dining room. The three Death Eaters that had retrieved him from the cave stepped in. Each one was perfumed in their fear. Kuro lifted his head up and observed each one.
"Well," he said as he reached out to a goblet of what appeared to be blood.
The Death Eaters watched him take a long savoring drink. He appeared so calm and in a rather pleasant mood for a vampire. Rabastan stepped forward.
"We can't find it. The house is under a charm…the fidel…"
It was fast…so fast, but then vampires are like that and this vampire had a temper when things weren't going his way. Kuro moved so fast no one really saw him. Before Rabastan knew what was happening, his voice was cut off by the crushing grip of Kuro's long fingers holding him by the throat against the now closed dining room doors. Rabastan frantically grasped at the vampire's hand…desperate for air. The sight of Kuro's fangs gleaming in the candle light did nothing to improve his anxiety.
"Do you actually think a silly little witch's charm will keep me out?"
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Vanessa hugged Hermione tightly. The Order thought it best that Vanessa not be there. They were sending her abroad with a very well placed memory charm. Hermione couldn't remember a summer at the beach house without Vanessa. With one last whisper of goodbye, Hermione watched Vanessa walk out the door to meet the Order member waiting on the porch for her.
Hermione turned from the now closed door. She glanced into the main room. Lucius was standing there staring out at the rain. Draco was sitting on the sofa in front of the T.V. Hermione had introduced him to the game console earlier and now he sat there, controller in hand, body jerking as if it would help him in the game. With her hands on her hips, she walked determinedly into the room.
Lucius slowly turned around, slight snarl on his face at her entrance.
"I am only going to say this once, so pay attention," she spoke in her usual demanding voice.
Lucius' eyebrow quirked up slightly. Draco's head slowly turned toward her and for a moment he felt sorry for Potter and Weasley. This must be what she was always like with them.
"This house may be listed as a magical residence, but it does not come with a house elf."
She looked at each Malfoy pointedly.
"And I am not your house elf. Am I making myself clear?"
"Crystal," Lucius responded in a cold curt voice.
Lucius turned back toward the outside world as if he were watching and waiting for something. Draco had turned back to the game he was playing. Reaching down Hermione picked up the other controller.
"Start over," she demanded. "I want to play too."
Draco looked at her through narrowed eyes. She could see the insult teetering there on the tip of his tongue and he was fighting to keep it reigned in. She threw herself down on the other side of the sofa, ignoring the look of irritation on Draco's face.
A couple hours later found Lucius feeling more than slightly disturbed. The laughter in the room echoed as he heard his son exclaim "no" as the game made the distinguishing sounds of death. This was shortly followed by Hermione's cackling sounds of laughter that could have rivaled Bellatrix Lestrange's. So, "disturbing" was putting it mildly.
Had Lucius ever seen his son so thoroughly enjoy himself on a rainy day? He couldn't remember. The mere thought that it was this Mudblood that had brought about this delight in him was enough to make Lucius cringe.
His mind drifted back to the day Severus told him Narcissa was dead and the look on Draco's face. Draco had appeared worn, emotionally beaten down and what had Lucius felt? He was angry…angry his son bore that mark, angry his "lord" had taken his son's mother away, but was he hurt by the loss of someone he was supposed to love?
That was a more difficult question to answer.
Did he love Narcissa as a man loves a woman enough to propose on bended knee?
No, he loved her as a friend. Their marriage was an arranged one…a proper pure-blood marriage. Still, she never truly knew Lucius. His moods displayed across his facial expressions were lost to her. Narcissa spent her time coddling her son, which caused Lucius much distress. She never tried to know him beyond the title husband and father though, Lucius was part to blame…he never held out a hand to invite her in either.
His icy eyes watched the rain plunging into the ocean. Darkness was falling. His mind wandered through his memories and thoughts—would he ever find someone who wanted to know who he was…who loved him enough to?
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The dark hooded figure stood outside the beach house cursing the rain. He was soaked through despite the hooded cloak. Casting a charm that would have kept him from the rain would have drawn too much attention to him…as if his strange looming figure in a dark cloak didn't do such a thing, but adding a metaphoric bubble around him would make it worse.
What lay inside the seemingly docile vacation home?
Would he find Lucius Malfoy hexed and tied to a wall already? Or would the insufferable girl give the man a chance? Or was she too busy putting her foot down, laying down the law of her home to the pure-blood aristocrat and watching him squirm uncomfortably under such conditions. She would; she could be quite cruel when she put her mind to it. It was one of the few things about her he actually liked—not that he would ever admit to that out loud.
With a sigh, preparing himself for his face-to-face with the Know-It-All, he raised his fist and knocked on the door.
When Hermione heard the knock on the door, she was placing the last dish on the dining room table. Dinner was done thanks to her. Lucius looked up at her with a raised eyebrow as if asking if she were expecting company. Draco sat there staring at each dish spread out on the table with an unsure look on his face. Could Granger even cook?
With her heart pounding nervously, Hermione approached the door. She heard Lucius' chair scrape against the floor as he rose to follow her. She could feel him literally breathing down her neck as he stood behind her as if that alone would protect her from what lay on the other side of the door. Well, at least he was doing his job…no matter how strangely.
"Who is it," Hermione asked the unknown visitor.
The guest on the porch rolled his eyes.
"Severus Snape," he deadpanned.
He knew the barrage of questions that would follow. She would be determined to find him to be either who he claims to be or a disguised Death Eater…well, a true Death Eater at any rate.
"What did you call yourself during your Hogwarts years," she asked.
Again, he rolled his eyes.
"Half-blood Prince," he responded in a bored tone.
Lucius rolled his eyes. Who didn't know that? Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip thinking the same thing. Lucius stepped to the side slightly to see Hermione's face. Something shifted in her eyes. He couldn't quite place what it was, but it reminded him of the evil little spark Bellatrix would get before she went barking mad. She leaned toward the door and placed her hand on it as if that alone would make sure Severus could hear her better. Her prolonged silence was making Severus nervous. He really wanted in the house and out of the rain.
"Severus," she said in a strange sing-song voice that neither Malfoy had ever heard come out of her mouth.
Even Draco looked up from piling the food on his plate…interest now piqued.
"What do you often call me?"
Lucius found something strange in this question. Didn't everyone know what Severus called Hermione?
"Insufferable-Know-It-All," Severus said with a dramatic sigh.
Hermione laughed.
"No, silly. Not that one…the other one."
She thought she heard him actually growl. Hermione had to cover her mouth to stop the laughter from escaping. She had saved his life from Nagini's bite and since then they had grown closer…quite close. Though he was no snuggly little teddy bear.
"My Little Princess," Snape said with a rather forced calm tone…as if the words tasted sour on his tongue in their struggle to escape.
When the door opened he found a silently laughing Hermione and a rather perplexed and slightly amused looking Lucius Malfoy. Lowering his hood and crossing his arms over his chest, Severus scowled down at Hermione.
"I need to speak to Lucius alone," Severus said.
With a flourish of his hand, he shooed her away.
"But, you are soaking wet! Come in, dry off and eat something first," Hermione said no longer laughing, but looking quite worried.
Severus sighed and cut his eyes to her. Not immediately responding, he removed his now wet cloak and hung it on the hook by the door. Sighing, he looked back down at her.
"I will dry off and eat, My Little Princess, after I have spoken privately to Lucius."
Hermione plopped herself down in her seat at the dining room table. Across from her, Draco sat looking at her curiously…no sneer on his face for a change.
"What the bloody hell was that about between you and Snape?"
Hermione glared at him as she started dishing food onto her plate.
"Have you ever saved someone's life, Malfoy?"
He shook his head no.
"Then you couldn't possibly understand how such an experience changes the dynamics of a relationship."
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With a flick of his wand Severus made sure the brains of the Gryffindor Trio would not be able to eavesdrop. There were some things she just didn't need to know.
"Well, what is it," Lucius asked rather impatiently.
"We know who is after Miss Granger…or to be more precise what is after her."
Lucius looked at him, one eyebrow raised in near amusement.
"You mean your Little Princess," he asked barely able to hide the amused smirk.
Severus sighed, pinching the area between his eyes.
"Now is not the time, Lucius."
Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a file folder similar to the one Severus had handed Lucius containing Hermione's information. Lucius reached out and took the file delicately in his hand. He read the name on the edge.
Monogatari Kuro.
Lucius looked curiously up at Severus before opening the folder. Severus watched his long time friend's eyes widen in the most expression he had ever seen in them.
"A vampire, Severus?"
There was near panic in Lucius' voice. It was a sound Severus was not accustomed to hearing from him.
"Theoretically," Severus responded.
Lucius looked from the contents of the folder back up at Severus and nearly yelled.
"What do you mean 'theoretically?"
Severus stopped his typical pacing at the sound of Lucius' angered voice.
"He's not your typical vampire…"
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Darkness had fallen.
He stood on the crag watching the ocean down below thrashing in the wind that drifted in with the rain. The wind swept around him. He could feel his hair brushing the back of his neck as it was tossed about. His dark eyes penetrated through the night air.
He could see the house.
The house she was in.
The back view of the house she had was alight. He could see the occupants' movements. She was sitting at a dining room table surrounded by three males…three previous Death Eaters…they would need to be eliminated. He noticed a couple walking along the beach. They paused momentarily, looking toward the beach house she was in.
He knew they were marveling at the great empty lot they saw…a lot where a house once was, but now was nothing more than a couple pillars.
His laughter echoed in the night…laughter that crept up your spine and brought about fear and hysteria. That silly witch's charm did its job making others see something that was not there…keeping others from noticing her presence in that house, but he was no ordinary person. Their rules and laws did not apply to him.
He closed his eyes, breathing in the night air. The rain pelted him, but it meant nothing. He could hear their movements in that house…he could hear their conversations…he could hear the sound of her blood rushing through her veins… the sound of her pounding heart beat…the sound of her every breath. Still, he kept his eyes closed…listening to her…his pet, his Mudblood. His thumb moved across his voluptuous lips, relishing the many thoughts of her…the thoughts that her warm blood would pass by those lips…tickle his tongue…trickle down his throat and intoxicate him with everything that was her.
My pet…
He opened his eyes. He was staring directly at the window-wall of the main room of the house. She stood there…hands gently placed on the glass as if feeling something beyond her understanding. Her eyes…her intelligent eyes that were already tinged in darkness stared out at the night directly at him…directly into his eyes as if she could see him from that distance on that crag.
My Mudblood…