Chapter 16

He'd been here before, in the red room.

It wasn't until he blinked a stinging tear of sweat out of his eyes that he realized that it was an actual red room with red curtains and sloppy crimson paint on the walls. There was a border of white and pink roses around the edges of the ceiling. All in all, it wasn't of the best taste. And it also wasn't a room in Darien's manor.

Chills shook him as the air in the room crept along his slick torso. He felt as if he'd broken a fever in his sleep. Had he been sick?

The bed squealed beneath him as he slid his legs off the mattress and pushed himself into a sitting position. The tacky pink roses greeted him as he stared at the feminine vanity across from the bed. It had probably been a lovely wooden piece once, but it was coated in that dreadful, thick red paint now, and he found himself sneering.

"You're reacting better than expected," Hermione said.

Draco turned and found her in the doorway. She had a long paper bag on a hanger slung over one arm and a pair of shining black men's shoes in the other hand.

"The books said that the death of one's master is very traumatic for both the mind and body. You seem to only be suffering from a fever. Did you dream?" She cocked her head at the question. "No, you didn't," she answered for him. "How odd."

His fingers prodding the sleep from his eyes, Draco stood, his legs numb beneath him. His toes began to tingle as the blood returned to them. Hermione must have been carrying him a long time, he realized. He blinked, finally processing what she'd said and sat back down.

"Darien's dead?" he asked. He felt his cheeks grow hot, but he wasn't sure why he was angry with this information. He had, after all, poisoned the vampire. "Did you kill him, then?"

Hermione shook her head, a glimmer in her eyes as the faint electric light of the sole lamp in the room caught her honey and crimson irises. "I was nearly out of the forest when I looked back. I could see smoke rising in the sky—if I had to guess, I'd say that Sanguini made good on his word."

"And we left Darien vulnerable to attack."

"He would have killed us both." The vampire stepped into the room, lips drawn into a hard line over her teeth. She slid the vanity's stool close to the wizard and sat down. "Yes, vulnerable. And he's most likely dead due to our actions." Her face hardened. "I know, I am."

Draco glared at her. "Why the hell didn't you run? You weren't supposed to come back."

"Can't change what's already done." Hermione shrugged, tossing the wrapped clothing onto the mattress beside him. "And it doesn't matter. Put the suit on—I picked it up at a muggle village we passed. I was surprised when I saw the place, so I ran off in the opposite direction. You wouldn't believe it, but we're less than a ten minute…run from Hogsmeade."

"Ten minute run for you, you mean. We've been in Scotland this whole time?"

Hermione nodded and picked a piece of lint off of her skirt. Draco realized for the first time that she had changed clothes. She was in a short black formal dress that rained rhinestones below its high silver belt. It was sleeveless, and Draco was freezing, but he assumed that she couldn't feel the difference in the temperature.

"Why the hell are we wearing muggle clothing?"

"Why not—you've been wearing it for weeks at Darien's." Her eyes drifted up, looking past Draco's shoulder. "It'll be daylight soon."

Draco turned. The curtained window was tucked up in one corner and the gray glow of coming dawn brightened the wall closest to it. Then it's only been this one night. . . It felt like I was out for ages.

"I meant, why the hell are we wearing muggle clothing when bloody Hogsmeade is so close?" Draco's gray eyes darted back to her. "The better question is, why aren't we there already? You could have made it to an inn—we could be with our own kind right now. People are looking for us, you know."

"People," she corrected, "are looking for me—everyone thinks you're dead already. And as for 'our' own kind, I believe we won't find any such company in a random wizard village. Have you forgotten? I'm a vampire, and you're a vampire's companion. We don't blend in with others anymore."

"Maybe you don't," Draco scoffed.

Hermione's jaw tightened. "You still don't get it—there's a reason why I told you not to let Darien use you as the human keg, Draco. Don't act like didn't mention it! You know you'll never be the same—you'll never be like everyone else anymore." With a twist over her wrist, she beckoned him forward. Draco felt his torso lean towards her and wrapped his fingers into the blanket beneath him to stop from moving further. "See. You'll never escape this type of life—you've been bitten too often. You've been claimed by us. . . At least, that's what the books in Darien's library suggested."

She leaned back, propping her elbows on the table behind her. "I suppose that's why you're not suffering right now. Servants suffer from the loss of their master—but you gained a new one before the other one died. Switching ownership must have saved you from the agony."

Draco pushed himself to his feet, a scowl on his pale face as he looked down at the woman. "You're full of it, Granger. How dare you think that I'm your damn slave—as if a Malfoy would ever. . ."

Hermione stood, the movement cutting off his words. She gently laid a hand on his bare chest. With a tap of her finger, he was bouncing on top of the mattress. A weight landed on his thighs, and he attempted to scramble to the opposite side of the bed. Nails scratched his scalp as her fingers grabbed hold of his hair and pulled him back. Her grip tight, she leaned over him, rhinestones tickling his stomach, her lips white and wanting.

"You need to watch yourself, Draco," she hissed. Her hand released his head and hovered over his neck. "I'm hungry. And I don't know how long I can stop myself from hurting you. So perhaps you should lay off the name calling for now."

Draco let out a shallow breath, remembering her fingers, the way they sliced through Hart's papery skin. His skin was not much thicker. That thought met his sudden awareness of where Hermione's body was positioned against his, and he felt a sudden awkwardness heat his ears. He closed his eyes, feeling his hands shake as he forced them to stay against the blanket instead of creeping up to find the soft skin sitting above waist. His head rolled to one side, his scarred neck exposed as he waited for her bite.

Her hips rocked against his lap, pushing the oxygen from his lungs, and suddenly her weight disappeared. He heard the vanity's mirror shatter, and his eyes opened. Hermione stood, livid, against the damaged piece of furniture.

"What the hell was that?" she snapped. Her eyes were wet, the crimson in them little more than a thin line. She released a dry sob into her own hand. Her brow furrowed, she stepped away from the sharp shards. "Do you think you can play with me like that, Malfoy? Do you think that's funny?"

"You were the one on top of me!" Draco spat, refusing to move. He felt warmth on his shoulder and turned. A single ray of sunshine was coming through the window, stretching halfway across the bed.

"I've got to go," Hermione said, following his gaze. She touched Draco's foot. "We don't know what Voldemort will do if he gets word of you. And I don't know what my. . .friends will do if they find out about. . ." She shook her head. "Don't leave me," she commanded. "We can talk about our options tonight."

Draco ground his teeth, swallowing. "Fine. I won't."

She stared at him a moment longer before twitching her fingers above his toes. Draco released a high squeal before retracting his foot.

"What the hell!" he screeched.

Hermione cocked her head. "You were lying," she whispered. "So I broke a bone in your foot, just a little one. You'll be fine, but your foot's going to swell today. I'd stay off if it, if I were you. You won't get very far on it."

Draco growled into the cover, punching the soft mattress with one fist. "Of course, I was fucking lying—you want me to stay here and wait for you to wake up hungry! Are you insane? Any rationally minded person you make a run for it."

Hermione didn't answer, walking toward the door instead. "See you tonight," she said, giving him a smile as she slammed it shut.