Pairing: Hermione/Draco

Era: Post-Hogwarts

Summary: Auror Hermione Granger is sent to New Orleans, Louisiana after Draco Malfoy disappears when collecting an inheritance. What should have been a standard missing wizard case turns into something far more sinister, and soon Hermione finds herself entangled in a dark web of secrets.

Rating: M

Warnings: Dark!Draco, Dark!Hermione, Sexual Themes, Gore/Violence, Harry x Hermione/ Ron x Hermione (endpoint is Dramione).

Disclaimer: This creation is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended.

Author's Notes: So, the mention of the Carter Brothers in this chapter is as accurate as I was told by the tour guide. I also did a bit of research on them and found everything to coincide. Thanks so much for all the reviews! I hope you all continue to enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated.


Part II

February 9, 2003

Various hues of gold light that came from the fireplace splashed across the French décor that made up Draco's drawing room. He sat idly in a wooden chair carved with intricate detail. His long fingers gripped a worn sheet of parchment while his other fingers drummed against the marble table to his right.

Curiosity piqued, he read the letter various times over in attempts to ascertain a clear reasoning as to why an uncle—whom he'd never met, had decided to leave Draco his estate and worldly possessions. He hadn't even been aware that his father had a brother. Lucius certainly never mentioned it to him. His mother stated that Ambrosius Malfoy was a ward of Draco's grandfather. He'd sent the boy overseas at the tender age of twelve with a hefty inheritance to hold him over until he could build his own fortune. The reasoning for this escaped Draco. He could not surmise a logical idea as to why his grandfather would even care for someone that wasn't blood-related.

He would've asked Lucius if he wasn't currently rotting in the dirt.

The grand clock chimed, alerting the wizard of the time. Draco sighed, no closer to solving this curious mystery than before. He dropped the letter carelessly on the table and gripped the glass of firewhisky. Taking a long sip, he revealed in the way it burned down to his stomach, eyes prickling at the corners.

"Darling?"

He looked over his shoulder, offering his mother a half-smile in acknowledgement. He was glad to see she was in higher spirits now despite how pale and sickly she'd become since growing ill. Draco rose from the chair and walked to where she stood, taking her hand into his and pressing a tender kiss on her knuckles.

"Are you feeling well, mother? I didn't want to disrupt your sleep so I ate dinner alone. Are you hungry?"

She smiled at him and the sight tightened his chest. She looked so pained despite trying her best to mask it. But Draco could see it—the way she fought to maintain an air of regal authority as was custom of a proper Malfoy Lady.

"Oh darling, don't fret over me. I'm well enough. I simply came to see if you've made a decision. Will you be traveling to the Americas?"

He led her to the seat he'd previously taken, leaning against the table beside her. His grey eyes gazed tiredly through the sheer curtains that covered their window. Snow continued to fall, blanketing the grass and fountain. It almost looked like a postcard he'd once been given.

He frowned, silently reprimanding himself for thinking of her. The wizard shoved back the image of the witch into the dark crevices of his mind, refusing to analyze it. He'd grown awfully skilled at banishing her when she'd manage to slip through the cracks of his head.

"I won't be gone long. I've set up a portkey for tomorrow. I'm expecting to take three days at the most," smiled lightly.

Narcissa nodded, her hands resting on her lap. Her brows furrowed in deep thought and Draco wondered if something was bothering her. Before he could ask about her wellbeing or whether he should even put off the trip for a later date she spoke, "That's fine darling. I will be well taken care of while you're gone. I expect you to let me know when you've settled in. Where will you be staying?"

"Monteleone—it's a wizarding hotel located on the French Quarter. I've already requested a suite for when I arrive. They have a Floo Network set up that will make it easy for me to contact you."

"I've heard of Monteleone, quite the following with the spirits that roam the halls and whatnot."

Draco chuckled softly, pouring himself another glass of firewhisky while pretending to overlook her disapproving features. "Yes, they've had to charm the ghostly guests so that the muggles won't see them as often. New Orleans seems to be an attractive place for them, which is a bit disconcerting. I will look into placing the estate on sale when I see it. I won't be using it."

"You should keep it, darling. It would be a nice place to escape if the need arises."

The blonde wizard studied his mother with great interest. If he strained himself enough he could hear the way she wheezed with every breath she took. He nodded in agreement, content to satisfy her with his complete compliance. He wanted nothing more than to please her these days. When the doctor paid his weekly visit the day before, he'd told Draco that his mother's health continued to deteriorate. It wouldn't be long before she succumbed to her sickness.

"Let's get you back in bed, mother."

It wouldn't be long before he was completely alone.


A look of disgust marred Draco's aristocratic features. He stood in an ocean of both muggles and magical folk as groups of drunken people walked and stumbled past him. The humid air and stench of alcohol made the wizard sick. He frowned at the realization that his attire was vastly inappropriate considering the hot, sticky weather. Silently, he cast a cooling charm in hopes it would make his clothing bearable.

He pulled out a piece of parchment from his trousers, making sure he arrived at the sight he'd been told. Standing on the corner of Bourbon Street and St. Ann Street, he took in the curious sight of various spectators both magical and non imbibing copious amounts of alcohol. Trash littered the floor, covering what should have been asphalt. Laughter and various excited chatter filled his ears as he walked down St. Ann Street, avoiding the drunken muggles that would run into him on occasion.

Upon passing the intersection of St Ann and Royal St, he noticed a man leaning against what looked to be the entrance to a gallery. The man wore faded blue jeans and a wrinkled plaid shirt. His bushy mustache gave him the cliché look of a cowboy Draco had heard of. The wizard dipped his hands in his pocket, sighing out at the comforting feel of his wand nestled safely inside. The man's watchful eyes followed Draco's every step. Passing the stranger, Draco could hear his echoing footsteps even beyond all the noise. He turned his eyes subtly, moving his head over his shoulder to find the man following him.

Draco turned to him, a scowl on his pale features which stopped the man dead in his tracks. They regarded one another with opposing interests. The man took a lone step closer to Draco, who in turn gripped his wand, ready to strike if need be. Silently, Draco cast a notice-me-not charm around him to avoid wandering eyes. The last thing he needed was to be detained in a deplorable American jail for use of magic on a muggle.

"You goin' in the Carter Brothers' building?" The thick Southern accent broke through the silence as the stranger spoke.

"What are you on about?"

"You're a limey," the man quipped with an amused expression mapping out his features.

The jab at his nationality stirred annoyance within the wizard. He was almost tempted to question the man's breeding but thought better of it and simply shrugged a shoulder.

"There's trouble in there that building. You best keep your wits about you, kid. Something ain't right with the place, I'll tell you that. Strange things happen in there—dark things."

Draco chuckled, bemused smirk stretching his lips. "I can handle myself, thanks ever so." Merlin, were American muggles odd.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

A new voice resonated behind the wizard. He turned his head to the source and found a taller man wearing a black trench coat. He carried a briefcase in one hand and a folder in the other. Draco nodded at the man, turning back to the stranger only to find him gone.

"My name is Michael Jacobs. I'm sorry I'm late. There's a storm coming in and I had to make sure we were all stocked up on necessities in case we get flooded."

Draco frowned, unable to shake the shiver that coursed through his anatomy. Deciding to tally it off that encounter as a mere drunk, he turned his attention fully to the lawyer. "Does this area flood?"

"Oh no, the French Quarter is actually a few feet above the sea level. You don't have to worry about the building getting flooded."

They walked towards the estate in question. It loomed over them as the sun began to make its decent. The blood orange building stood curiously, pressed against two other buildings side-by-side. The shutters stood out in a forest green color and the intricately designed banisters looked like dark vines across the top floor. It was charming, if not a bit eccentric considering its colour scheme. Draco figured that was simply how the buildings in the French Quarter were designed. It wouldn't matter anyway, he had every intention of selling the estate eventually.

Michael pulled out the folder from under his arm, setting the briefcase on the floor. He glanced up at the building with what Draco thought to be worried eyes.

Strange things happen in there—dark things.

He heard the previous man's words ring in Draco's head as he waited for the attorney to speak. Suddenly feeling on edge, Draco cleared his throat.

"Yes well, let's get started," the attorney complied.

They walked across the narrow street, stopping just before the door. The lawyer set his briefcase down once more, digging into his pockets to take hold of the keys. As he opened the entrance he began to speak, "Your uncle opened small businesses on the first floor. The second floor was used as a large apartment. He must have changed his mind though because he kicked all the business out and renovated the inside of it into a house of sorts."

The door creaked as it opened. The lawyer held out his arm to indicate that Draco should step in first. With a passing glance at the muggle, Draco stepped in. All at once a cold burst of air pressed against his body. He did not want to be in there.

"As you can see, there's a hotel on the street opposite to us. They tried buying the property from your uncle but obviously they were unable to do so."

"Why didn't he sell it?"

Michael stopped at the foot of the stairs that lead to the second floor. He flipped the switch that flickered dim lights on. The floors creaked under the weight of the men as they stood before the stairs. It seemed as though the muggle was not entirely comfortable with being there and this notion further tensed Draco.

With one last look upstairs, Michael turned his attention to Draco. "I didn't know your uncle very well, but what I gathered from our occasional meetings was that he was obsessed with this place. He may have been a history buff and very much into the supernatural."

An elegant brow rose in question. Draco did his best to fight off the smirk that threatened to appear. "Supernatural?"

"Well you are in New Orleans, Mr. Malfoy. Strange things are known to happen in these streets. This building was once home to the Carter Brothers, you know."

The name stilled Draco, he frowned in annoyance. "Who are the Carter Brothers?"

The attorney looked surprised, as though he'd never met a being who wasn't aware of the brothers. Michael matched his counterpart's frown before answering, "they were around in the 1930's you see, back when people would come here to work on the Mississippi River. They lived upstairs and kept mostly to themselves. One day this girl ran to the sheriff's station and lead them back here. They found decomposing bodies and some alive that were strapped to chairs with their wrists sliced open.

"The brothers had been kidnapping people and draining their blood to drink it."

Draco's curiosity piqued. It seemed like a glorified tale of two murders. There was no possible way they could've been vampires—those creatures had been extinct since The Great Purge of 1703. Vampires were simply non-existent in this day and age.

"What happened to the brothers?"

"Well, the police staked out the apartment until they got back from working in river. It took about eight men to bring them down but eventually they got them and when they died they threw their bodies in a sarcophagus."

Draco nodded, satisfied with the end of the story. He began his ascent into the upstairs, disliking the involuntary chill that pressed down the length of his back. He strained his eyes through the darkness, carefully making his way to the first door he found. Gripping the worn knob, he paused momentarily before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.

Terror shined in Draco's grey eyes at the scene before him. A man's familiar voice resonated right behind him—the man who'd warned him before meeting the attorney.

"They opened that tomb a while later and found it clean of any bodies of decomposing bits. They haven't been found since."

Those were the last words the wizard heard before his consciousness faded to black.