A/N: Well, I'm back from my extended NaNoWriMo vacation, haha.

Chapter 25

"I hate you," Draco said.

Harry glared. "As if I haven't heard that before."

Draco huffed but slipped the maroon button-up on over his scarred skin, looking down at the gold diamond pattern on its mole-skin texture as if it were demonic. More muggle clothing. Of course. And in Gryffindor colors. But he found one small relief: no pain through his arms as he pulled them through the sleeves. At least his cousin had mended most of his wounds, the ones she could mend, before his little disappearing act with the Golden Boy.

"But I mean it this time," the blond finally hissed, though it lacked strength and left Harry wearing a snide grin.

The boys stepped out of the building's shadow, no evidence of their quick robbery left behind as they jogged across the empty street towards the line of buildings. An older couple passed by them, paying them no attention, but their pace quickened, nevertheless.

This was the third location that they'd apparated to, this time with the intent of finding Draco new clothing (the ragged mess he'd been wearing was not even worth transfiguring, in Harry's opinion). Their various disappearing acts were done in hopes of throwing off any unlikely followers. The quick and nauseating journey had left Potter with a curtain of sweat plastered hair over his brow and both young men exhausted. They'd remained nearly silent until Harry suggested he enter the store for a change of shirts.

Harry reached back, grabbing Draco's arm in preparation for another apparation, but the other wizard pulled loose.

"Where are we going?" Draco snapped. "Do you even know, or do you simply intend on making circles around muggle London for the rest of the evening?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Where Hermione told me to meet the two of you. I'm assuming she'll be waiting for us there. Correct?"

Draco nodded once, his brow wrinkled. "But where exactly is this meeting place?"

"You mean, you don't know?"

"I didn't read the letter," Draco said. At Harry's look, he rolled his eyes. Hermione, I might not forgive you for leaving me with Potter. "Hermione wrote it; I just delivered it. I assumed I would be with her at this point, not you."

Harry stared at him a moment longer before producing the letter from his pocket. "Knockturn Alley," he said, before giving the note over. "An inn."

Draco scanned the words, finding the address. "I've been there before." He snorted in realization. "Of course, I have. . . She probably plucked the bloody location from my mind."

"She can do that to you?" Harry asked, his voice quieter when he heard a drunkard trip over his own feet ahead of them.

"Didn't you listen to your werewolf friend?" Draco returned, his throat suddenly dry. "As you well know, Potter, she can get in my head."

"So, you're really not to be trusted then?"

"As if you ever did?" Draco sneered.

"Noted." Harry shook his head, as if trying to bite down the dark amusement surfacing in his grin. "You're still too much of a prat to be entirely under her control. Are you ready to apparate now?"

Draco paused, frowning. "You should probably know. . . Lupin was right about her as well. She's different. But the same." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, frustrated that his admission wasn't making sense. "What I mean to say is, she's dangerous, Potter. She knows it just as well. She. . .I think she wants you to keep that in mind." Draco resisted the urge to scratch the healing bite mark over his shoulder, shaking the sensation off. A wave of bitterness passed through him as he added, "She doesn't want to hurt her friends."

Harry's grip tightened on the wand he held against his leg. He reached out with his free hand, snatching Draco by his sore shoulder. "Let's go."


The night air was smothering in the Alley, thick with a draping fog that looked yellow in the rare light from the closed shops. Two masculine, slender figures moved against the heavy veil, slipping like shadows from one building's front to the next, attempting to avoid the late night stragglers of the magical world, the homeless and the dangerous. Thankfully, the sidewalks were nearly empty in both Diagon and Knockturn Alley of late, as rumors of dark creatures and Death Eaters had begun to circulation.

The two boys slipped down a narrow path between two buildings, moving through the maze of brick-roofed pathways as silently as wraiths. They stopped in front of a set of wooden stairs that zig-zagged up the side of the inn, stopping at several doors with numbers upon them. The steps seemed to sway slightly, though there was no wind to stir them, and creaked, breaking the night's quietness.

"This is it," Draco whispered. "Here, the back entrance is used more often than the front. It's a very. . .private establishment."

Harry shot him a disbelieving look, shaking his head. "We'll wait here."

"For who?"

"Ron," Harry replied, as if that should have been obvious.

Before Draco could reply, the subtle sound of a nearby footstep caught Draco's attention.

"Harry?"

Draco jumped, nearly tripping backwards onto the stairs when he saw the figure approaching behind. Harry turned, wand out, and lit. But the tuff of red hair soon put him at ease. Ron Weasley stepped out of the fog, staring first at Harry and then to Draco in brief shock.

"I thought you'd gone mad when I got your letter," Ron breathed. "I mean, Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged. "Believe it or not."

"Not, I think," Ron said, throwing the blond a look of despite. "But, if it leads to finding 'Mione, I'll go with it."

"How did the Weasel here know to show?" Draco sneered. The act seemed to exhaust him, and he leaned against the stairs' railing, chipped paint falling like rain drops where his elbow brushed it.

"I sent him a letter, right after Remus and Tonks left the first time, and told him about the meeting. I was glad I did when Remus returned carrying you." Harry suddenly found his feet interesting.

Draco understood the look automatically. Potter was remembering the wounds. And what they meant about one of his closest friend.

Draco nodded in Ron's direction. "But you didn't have time to include a very important fact in that letter, did you, Potter?"

"What's he talking about, 'Arry?"

Harry released a shallow breath, shaking his head. "Ron," he sighed. He reached up, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder to comfort him. "Hermione. . .she's alright. But there's something you should know about her current state. . ."

Draco turned, closing his eyes and trying to block out what Potter was so painfully trying to explain to his friend. Alright? That's not quite the right word for dead, Potter. He winced, feeling nauseous at the thought. A strange sensation, tingling from tickling finger tips, moved across his skin, seeming to put his anxiety to rest. Draco felt his face flush hot with new, fresh blood as his heart leapt into his throat, beating furiously.

The conversation between the two boys seemed muffled, distance, behind the sound of that rushing blood.

". . . But you're going on his word? Are you insane?"

"I didn't believe it at first either. But the bite marks, Ron, and Lupin said. . ."

They won't accept me.

Draco's eyes fluttered open, his pupils wide and engulfing. He reached up, clasping onto his neck with one hand, feeling that pulsating rhythm beneath his fingers. Hurry, Hermione. I'm--we're--waiting for you.

You shouldn't need me this much, Draco.

I don't. They do.

"Malfoy, what's wrong with you?"

Draco realized that a cold bead of sweat was rolling down his temple. He registered the question but chose to ignore it. "Too late for explanations, Potter," he snapped, his eyes fixed on the fog. "She's here."


"I've been here for a while, actually," she said. She didn't simply walk out of the fog, but stood at the side of the building, still as a statue, as if she'd been there all along.

The boys seemed to stop breathing for a moment, their silence was so complete. They stared at her, as if processing her words. When they seemed at a loss for replies, she continued, her voice shaking slightly with a nervous tremor.

"I came here first," she explained. "Just wanted to keep an eye out for enemies entering the Alley. I caught your scent and . . ."

She winced, realizing what she'd just said, and stepped out of the hazy veil. "Let's talk inside."

The conversation had ended before it could begin. She walked past Draco as if he didn't exist, nearly at a human run as she passed the first two doors and gently stepped up the third flight, slipping a key into the door. Draco obediently followed, not waiting for the other two to collect themselves. He winced when he entered the room, finding that the lamps were far too bright and too many.

"Want everyone to get a good look at you, do we?" he said, frowning.

The footsteps of the others were trailing in through the open door.

Hermione gave him a pained look. "I want them to see what I am. I want this to be an honesty conversation," she said.

Draco looked away from her. "So long as I don't bring up anything you don't like?"

Harry walked through the door, and Hermione lowered her voice, her eyes on Draco, and crimson. "I won't lie about feeding from you."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Draco whispered. Nevertheless, he remained quiet, sitting in a sturdy chair in the room's corner and trying to avoid the light surrounding the rectangular quarters.

The door shut and locked itself as soon as Ron entered. Another of the inn's strange amenities, much like the two entry doors to every back-facing room.

Harry and Ron stood side by side, staring at their mutual friend with something akin to shock as they took in the red stain slowly leaving her eyes, the eternal paleness in her features, her strange stillness. They glanced at one another, no doubt wishing they were better schooled at the art of reading minds and turned back to Hermione, their guppy mouths opening and closing.

"We were afraid. . ."

"Are you alright?"

They both stumbled over their statements, smiling slightly, as if there was something amusing about their situation. Draco huffed, leaning back against the wall and wondering if he could get away with taking a nap through this little portion of the conversation.

Hermione tried to break a smile. "I'm. . .It could be worse," she finally said.

Harry released a breathy laugh, stepping forward, and hesitating only a moment before wrapping his arms around her in a deep hug. She returned it, a very human-sounding sigh of relief muffled against his collar. When he finally pulled away, her anxious eyes fell once more on the red-head at the door.

"'Mione," Ron said, his eyes wet. He squeezed the tears away with two fingers. "We were scared," he finally said, looking up at her. "You just disappeared. And no one was sure who took you. We thought. . ."

Hermione nodded. "I wish I could have gotten word to you earlier," she said. "But we were being kept away, without wands, by a vampire and. . ." She choked down her own words, swallowing them as if they were something foul tasting. "We barely escaped."

But not with our lives, Draco mentally added, watching her lips twitch, knowing she'd caught the statement. He was surprised, if only somewhat, at how well these two were taking this news. Their friend, dead, returned as something that feeds on life, and they were already at the hugging stage. He'd known that the lot of them were friends, devoted to a weakness to one another. He'd never realized that it was also a strength. Jealousy crept through him at that thought. Abashed, blood filled his cheeks, leaving them uncomfortably warm as he tried to push the emotion back down. But he couldn't help it; it was unfair.

He was dead, as far as his world knew. And he had returned, still human, to no open arms.

I forgot to ask her, he thought, wishing he could stop himself, I forgot to ask the others if they were going to tell Mother for me.

"I'm sure they will," Hermione said. "But probably not tonight."

Draco's eyes shot up, catching hers. Ron and Harry looked on in confusion. Hermione shook her head at their expressions, and stepped forward, forcing Ron into an embrace that he returned whole-heartedly. "I missed you two," she said. "I was afraid, too, after this happened. I thought you'd never speak to me again."

Ron pushed her away, his face red with sudden anger. "What?" he asked, in disbelief. "It isn't your fault, 'Mione. We'll be here for you, through this. . ." His chin shook as he stared at her with dark, intense eyes. "Tell us who did this to you."

"What was the vampire's name?" Harry seconded. He grabbed hold of her arm, turning her to face him. "We need to know everything, Hermione, if there's any chance of us fixing this. We'll find a way, if it's out there."

Hermione cocked her head. "There's no fix, not yet, Harry, but even if we could, there are more important things we should be discussing. That's why I called you here in the first place."

"More important than your life?" Ron snapped.

"Yes!" Hermione answered. She looked back to Harry. "You have a mission, Harry. That's why I needed to see you. If you'll have me, I still want to be a part of it--you need help, even if I'm stuck like this, the two of you still need help in the coming battle."

"But, Hermione. . ."

"No buts," she interrupted. "We've got a job to do, Harry. You've got a Dark Lord to defeat. And I'm strong enough to help you." She threw a hand in Draco's direction. "And we've got someone who's been on the inside."

"Oh, bloody wonderful," Draco sneered.

Ron raised a brow. "Malfoy? We can't trust a word he says. How's he supposed to help us? Should we even be discussing this in front of him?"

"I think Hermione has that covered," Harry replied, giving Hermione a prodding glance.

Hermione bit her lip. "He can't do anything I don't want him to do. He's bound to me."

Draco stared down at his knees, his arms crossed over his chest, as if he was trying very hard to restrain himself.

Ron blinked in surprise. Harry met his look with a nod of confirmation. "You fed from him?" Ron breathed. He swallowed hard, releasing a coughed, humorless chuckle. "Better him than us, I suppose," he said. "Guess it's not like those vampire tell-alls say, then. Should have figured all of that lusty vampire 'passion' stuff was nonsense."

Hermione didn't reply at first, staring at her hands, the red lines of crusted blood beneath the stark white nails. "You don't have to be in a relationship with the person you're feeding from," she finally said.

"So you're not with him, then?" Ron persisted, shaking off Harry's restraining hand. He stepped closer to Hermione. "Just, tell us. Or. . ." He seemed to come to a realization. "Or with the vampire who did this to you? He didn't make you. . ."

"It's not like in the legends," Hermione said.

I can't. . .I can't tell them yet.

Draco heard her distress and pulled for a distraction. He snorted, drawing their attention.

"It was me, King Weasel," he snapped. "I made her into what she is."

Ron's finger's rolled into fists. "What's he saying, Hermione?"

"I fed her the blood," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "That's what you wanted to know, right? Who to punish for tainting her? It was me."

Hermione reached out, grabbing hold of Ron with one arm before he could lunge forward. "He saved me," she explained, looking to Harry for assistance.

"Tell us," Harry said, not bothering to move.

"Fine," the vampire growled. "If you need to know what happened. We were trying to escape the vampire Draco was bound to, his name was Darien. We. . .poisoned him, but before he was incapacitated, he bit me. I was bleeding to death. Draco did the only thing he could do, he gave me the vampire's blood. He became bound to me, and, yes, he was my first meal. Is that quite enough now?" she snapped.

"For now," Harry replied, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Ron grew still. "I'm sorry," he said, staring at her hand across his chest. He put his over it, squeezing the cold flesh. "I . . . Malfoy's--Merlin strike me dead for ever saying this--but Malfoy's right. I'm looking for someone to punish. You said his name is Darien?"

Dragon?

Draco stood. "I'm going for a walk," he said, in a hushed voice.

"No, you're not," Hermione snapped.

Draco bit down his reply and sat back down.

"Did they give you more blood replenishing potion?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Hermione, I don't think you should," Harry said, sparing Draco a glance. "He's in a rough shape."

"Listen," Hermione began. She ushered Harry and Ron towards the interior door. "I want to talk, I really do, but I was injured earlier tonight. And I need. . .I need to not be hungry when I wake up and see you tomorrow night." She shook her head. "I know you can't possibly understand this, but it's true: I could be very, very dangerous if I don't feed."

"Can't you feed on an animal or something?" Ron asked.

"It doesn't do the same thing, Ronald. It doesn't satisfy," she chided. "Don't you think that's exactly what I would be doing if a cow's blood would do the same as his?"

"Maybe. . ." Harry seemed reluctant to continue. "You must be able to control yourself somewhat, if he's still alive. Maybe you could drink from one of us, this once. He won't be much help to us. . .weak."

"That's not up for discussion, Harry!" Hermione said, her eyes almost glowing. "I could never feed from one of you. It's too dangerous."

Harry shook his head, a deep sadness in his emerald eyes. "We'll see you this evening, then," he said, walking out without another word.

"Harry," Hermione breathed, but he was already out the door. She looked to Ron, handing him a key. "Your room's across the hall. You might want to secure the locks better, once you're settled in."

Ron nodded. "Night, then," he muttered, leaving her.

She shut the door, resting her head against the cool paint and staring down at the floor.

"Guess the enemy's blood does taste better then?"

Hermione turned, staring at the blond as he unbuttoned his shirt for her, folding it over the back of the chair. She shut her eyes to stop them from roaming his lean muscles and finding the scars her kiss had left behind.

"Lost your appetite?" he asked, a bitter smirk on his face. "Shame does that to a person."

Hermione closed her eyes, her brow wrinkled in frustration. When they opened, her irises were saturated with red. "I'm sorry, Draco."

"No. You're not."

End Notes: Sorry for all the dialogue in this chapter, but the filler was needed. Don't worry, though, the next chapter should be full of fist fights, romancing, and action.

If you're interested in seeing a few manipulations for this story, here's one of Draco and Hermione http: //falthee. deviantart. com /art/ Hermione-Draco-Bloody-Mess-146916599 (remove spaces) and here's one of a vampire Hermione http: //falthee. /art/ Hermione-Vampire-Red-Passion-146917062 (remove spaces).