Please be aware that this chapter holds a scene of rape, and a summary of the injuries sustained. If this is something that could trigger a flashback or any other trauma for you, I advise this chapter is skipped altogether.

Sumus Noctis

Chapter Three

"Harry! No!" Hermione screamed, pulling hard on his shirt and waistcoat, begging him to walk away before he did something stupid. Strangely, the Wizengamot did nothing to stop him, merely watching him curiously.

She knew Harry wouldn't hurt Mr. Weasley without cause, but scaring him senseless wasn't the way to go. The Wizengamot were still gathered, and while they did not interfere yet, if Harry went too far, they wouldn't hesitate to have him destroyed.

"He's pretty much making you out to be a liar, Hermione," he growled, glowing eyes never leaving the Weasley patriarch.

"I know, but Ron probably didn't tell him the whole story, if anything at all."

"I know the whole story!" Mr. Weasley growled. "Ron already filled me in, that you were willing but the moment it was over, you turned on him."

Harry growled louder. Arthur had been somewhat calm until now, besides striking Hermione, why was he suddenly being aggressive now? But, Harry stopped to think, grief made people act in strange ways, he could certainly attest to that when Sirius had died.

"No, you don't, Mr. Weasley. I had to take Hermione to St. Mungo's to be treated. He brutalised her, raped her and nearly fucking killed her!" Harry hissed dangerously. "The damage he did to her was the likes of nothing I have ever seen before."

Arthur shook his head, disbelieving what he was being told. "Ron would never hurt anyone," Arthur whispered, but his voice held less conviction that it had a moment ago.

"Keep him here, Harry, I'll be back in a few minutes," Hermione murmured softly.

Hermione didn't wait on a response as she left the room. Harry retracted his fangs and moved away from Mr. Weasley, sat in the chair he had earlier vacated. He knew that she had gone to get her medical record; the proof of what happened that night six months ago lay in her file.

Tension ran high in the silent room as they awaited the return of Hermione, Harry himself grew more agitated as the bond stretched between them, like an elastic band pulled too tight. The doors banged open, signalling her reappearance. Passing the file to Harry, he opened it and read the extensive list of her injuries from Ron's vicious attack.

"Tell me if your sweet son was so saintly and innocent after this. Break of the left radius, last two phalanges of left hand broken, fracture of the right femur, broken nose, right zygomatic bone fractured, bruising consistent with being held with force visible on both arms, several scratches on both thighs, lower lip lacerated in two places, several ribs cracked- one broken and piercing the left lung, bite marks on both breasts, deep tearing within vaginal canal, some scratching visible on vaginal opening, anal fissures apparent- small inner tear visible," Harry's voice became thick with emotion as he concluded the list, the injuries so substantial that, technically, no human should have survived the amount of agony they would have been in.

No matter how many times he went over the injuries his best friend sustained that night, it never failed to hurt him deeply. To remind of the fact that he could have come so close to losing Hermione that night, it was devastating. In his mind's eye, he could see her in his living room, trembling, her body so broken she had collapsed in seconds of landing from a very risky Apparition.

Hermione cried softly off to the side while Arthur looked to Harry in horror, blue eyes filled with tears and mouth flapping wildly, no sound emerging. If it had been disputed before that Ron was guilty, it certainly wasn't now. There was a time he was Harry's best friend, an innocent boy with a jealousy issue, but time had changed him and the jealousy evolved into something ugly and cold.

"Your son destroyed Hermione's body so badly that the Healers of St. Mungo's struggled to save her. She lost so much blood because of internal bleeding from her broken bones, and the rib that punctured her lung, that she bled out faster than they could pour Blood- Replenishing potions down her neck. I had refused for years to make Hermione like me- I didn't choose this life for myself, and I couldn't live with myself if I condemned her to it. She begged me again that night and I still refused - until the Healers told me that although they would never normally allow a Vampire to be created in their hospital, nothing short of a miracle would save her. I would rather damn whatever soul I have than live without Hermione- she is in every way my sister."

Harry watched while the hope that had been on Arthur Weasley's face died out- the torch he held for his son's memory extinguished. If it had been his child that was being accused of such horrible crimes, he too would cling to any hope that the accusers were wrong.

Looking to Arthur in pity, Hermione asked if they may use the Pensieve to show him what Harry said was true, how she sustained all the injuries. It was the only way he was ever going to fully believe what his youngest son had done.

"This is most irregular, Miss Granger, however we will allow it." The Chief Warlock spoke, his wand swished and a Pensieve appeared by their side.

Nodding her thanks, she pulled the memory out with the tip of her wand, and placed it in the Pensieve that had been summoned for her use. Harry dragged Mr. Weasley from the chair and placed him at the Pensieve. All three of them stuck their heads into the murky substance that was Hermione's memory, falling into it while Harry prepared himself for once again seeing his sweet friend in such a tortured mess.

Harry tried to look on emotionlessly when in reality he wanted to kill something and cry. She was so happy, laughing at something Ron said and flirting playfully with him. But Ron didn't want things to end there, and when Hermione realised he wanted more, she backed off and told him no.

Things took a nasty turn when she tried to leave, her eyes wide in fear as Ron ranted and raved about her putting out for others but never for him. In truthfulness, Hermione had only just at that point considered a physical relationship with Ron, and he ruined it all.

The red head grabbed her as she passed him to get out of the flat, his large hands clamping on her arms and dragging her backwards, forcibly throwing her on the bed.

He watched while Hermione was beaten relentlessly, large fists smashing into her body, the skin splitting and blood flowing. Ron entered her, the sight of Hermione in such misery and pain enough to make Harry want to vomit. Her screams of agony would haunt him forever, her face a splotched mess of misery and horror.

He looked to Hermione, tears streaming down her face as Ron flipped her over before forcing himself into her anally. The minute he grunted his release, he climbed off her, threw a sneer over his shoulder and left the room. She gathered her clothes, not even bothering to put them on and Disapparated from the room with a crack. They pulled from the memory and Arthur fell to the floor and vomited.

Harry knew he may regret what he said next. "I couldn't have prevented Ron's death, Mr. Weasley, but I am not sorry he is gone from our lives. What he did is beyond disgusting."

"I'm sorry, Hermione, so sorry. I need to go home and talk to the others, Molly will refuse to believe it, so can I borrow that file?" Arthur choked out.

"Yes. It's a copy anyway."

Arthur moved to hug Hermione, but she backed away shaking her head. It would probably be a long time before any red head could touch her, let alone a Weasley. On top of that, Hermione didn't do so well with being touched by any person, be it male or female.

"I wish you both the best together; you clearly make one another happy." Arthur smiled weakly.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione hissed, her eyes narrowed in fury.

"Well I can see why you would let him change you, then stay with him. You love him." Arthur stated.

He didn't get the chance to say anything more before Harry grabbed his robes once again. "Did you not hear me earlier? Yes, I love Hermione- as a sister! There is nothing romantic between us, there never has been nor will there ever be. If she wanted to leave, all she need do is ask. She doesn't float my boat," Harry hissed.

"You're gay?" Arthur paled.

"Yes. You got a fucking problem with that?"

Arthur shook his head violently and Harry released him with a disgusted look. "You make me sick. One of your own sons is gay, I bet you didn't go white when he told you. I'm sure you clapped him on the back and said you were proud. You're nothing more than a fucking hypocrite," Harry sneered.

Arthur backed away, muttering "Such a waste, poor Ginny."

"What was that Weasley? A waste? It's not my goddamn fault your daughter spent all her time at Hogwarts following me like a lost puppy. Her attentions were never wanted but no matter how many times I told her, she refused to listen. If she still holds a torch for me, that's her problem, I've been gone for years," Harry bellowed.

It took all of Hermione's strength to hold Harry back, stopping him from tearing Arthur Weasley's head off. She could feel the rage emanating from him as it thrummed along the Bond they shared.

"Harry, calm down! I doubt the fact your gay bothers him, you know Ginny always held a torch for you." Hermione soothed, repeating his phrasing.

Harry paused in his verbal tired and struggled to take a moment and realise how feral he had become. He hugged her and whispered his thanks, once again grateful that her level-headedness would save him from putting himself in trouble. It would have done him no good to go on a rampage. He wasn't so sure the Wizengamot would be lenient a second time. He really needed to learn to reign his emotions in.

"Come on, we both need some rest. Let's go home. You need to feed as well, all this has put too much on your body, I don't think it's safe to have you wait until tomorrow."

Hermione nodded and wrapped an arm around his waist as they left the room together, neither looking back at Arthur. A juddering ride in the enchanted elevators saw them outside with Harry trying not to throw up. He hoped with fervour that he didn't have to ride one of them again anytime soon, if ever.

Harry walked them both to a nearby Apparition point, pulled Hermione in front of him, wrapped an arm around her waist. He glanced at the sky and saw it matched their moods- grey and dull. He spun on his heel and both disappeared from view, taking them to Grimmauld Place.

He'd wondered why Hermione hadn't been back to her flat since the attack and it was while being in her memory that he realised why. All the times he had used Occlumency to help build walls in her mind, stopping the nightmares from keeping her awake all the time. He'd assumed that the attack had taken place in Ron's flat- he'd been wrong. She had been savaged in her own home, her only safe haven taken from her. Tomorrow he would see what she wanted done, most likely he'd move the things she wanted to keep to Grimmauld Place and get rid of the rest, selling the place.

Once the house appeared in front of them, Harry led them straight into the main living room, which was soon warmed with a roaring fire. The once oppressive room had been redecorated and the ridiculous amounts of furniture removed to give it a much more open, comfortable feel.

He walked them to the black velvet couch and drew Hermione into his lap. He knew she needed contact after her ordeal with Ron then having to spend the night in the Ministry cells. Plus, there was the wait to find out if Harry was going to be punished and the awful strain that must have put on her.

He pushed her head to his throat and encouraged her to feed, his fingers massaging her skull in a soothing motion. He sighed when her fangs pierced his throat, feeling satisfaction that she was feeding. He allowed her to drink for a few minutes longer than necessary before giving her hair a soft tug to stop her. He felt her tongue soothe over the wounds to heal them.

Hermione shifted around until she settled with her head under his chin, her ear directly over his heart- though it didn't beat she felt safe that way. He was hungry, but would wait until she fell asleep before going hunting. He wasn't going to leave her the way she was feeling, she needed comfort that only he could provide.

It took half an hour of stroking Hermione's hair before he felt her completely relax and he realised a moment later that she had fallen asleep. Shifting her, he lifted her in his arms and laid her out on the couch, covering her with the mink blanket that hung over the back. He wrote a quick note saying he had gone hunting and would be back soon, just in case she woke before he returned. Harry doubted that she would wake anytime soon, but he didn't want her to panic when she found he wasn't in the house.

Making sure the wards were strong, Harry ran a short distance from Grimmauld Place, stopping at a Muggle pub- The Red Lion he noticed from the overhead signpost. He waited until he saw a heavily intoxicated woman leave the establishment, her gait was unsteady, more than likely from a combination of too much alcohol and her ridiculously high heels. Fuck me heels was what Hermione called them. He followed her down a side alley, and cleared his throat just loud enough for her to hear.

Startled, she spun around and tried to focus her bleary vision on Harry. "Oh, you startled me!"

Harry smiled to himself at her slurred words, keeping his face friendly and almost childlike. She'll do. "My apologies, are you alright?"

"Fine. Just perfect now you're here." She purred drunkenly. It occurred to Harry that she was either very, very drunk, or an off-duty prostitute, though he was swayed more to the latter judging by her outfit.

Harry approached her with a wider smile, hands spread out in a 'I am totally harmless' way. He reached her and she tried to lean in for a kiss, her painted mouth looking horribly smudged. Harry dodged to her side and pinched the pressure point on the back of her neck. She gave a grunt of pain and passed out, her legs giving out from under her. Harry caught her before she could hit the ground, lowered her to the cleanest part of the alley he could find and swiftly bit her soft neck, sighing when her blood hit his taste buds.

It wasn't really the kind he wanted to satisfy himself, but unfortunately, with Hermione so recently transformed-again- he could not afford to hunt for a more suitable donor. The Muggle's blood would suit his needs for the moment, but the taste of alcohol on it made him grimace. It was sweet, cloying, making him gag slightly, but it was the best he was going to get for the moment.

He drank steadily, but stopped when he felt her heartbeat start to slow down- he didn't want to kill her, plus he really couldn't afford to have the Muggle police- or Aurors- searching for him. He pulled back and lapped at the twin wounds, closing them. He laid her propped against the wall, slumped over a little, making her look as though she had passed out from her alcohol intake.

Harry could hear other voices approach and was quick to disillusion himself, making him invisible to everyone. He walked past the Muggles that had just appeared in the alley and saw them run to the unconscious woman, knowing they would help her. He returned his focus to leaving the alley to make it back to Hermione when he saw a man with long black hair, eyes like onyx and pale skin that shone in the moonlight.

"Potter?" He whispered, his eyes focused on Harry, directly on him, not just the area he stood.

Harry knew that he could be seen - Snape had an aptitude for seeing through Disillusionment charms. Had he been alive, his heart would have been hammering in his chest, but he could smell the fear coming from his former professor. He backed away as fast as he could before he fled, running as fast as his Vampire speed would allow. He made it home in a matter of seconds, bolted into the house and threw the door closed.

This was not good. His being a vampire was not particularly wide known knowledge among the Wizarding world, and Harry was perfectly happy to keep it that way. He had worked hard to dispel rumour and make sure that he appeared at nearly every kind of charity event going.

Judging by the fear he had smelt on Snape, there was no way that he didn't know what Harry was- or what he had just done. In that moment, Harry had never felt more disgust for what he was.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice called out, her tone gruff from sleep.

He walked through to the living room calling out "just a moment" before he appeared in front of her. Hermione took one look at his face and jumped from the couch rushing to Harry. She wrapped her arms around him and drew him in for a hug.

"What's the matter, Harry?" She whispered.

"I was hunting. I uh… Professor Snape saw me. I had a Disillusionment charm up. I swear I had no idea he was there. A Muggle pub isn't the first place I would think to find him!" Harry cried.

"Hush now. Were you already finished? Could he have seen?"

Harry moaned quietly and bit back an urge to whimper. "I think he might have done. Hermione…I could smell his fear- I've never seen someone have eyes so wide. He'll think me some kind of monster, the Daily Prophet will be writing all about me again by morning. I know full well he's going to run straight to the papers with this, anything he can use to humiliate me."

Harry had made it so only the Wizengamot, the Ministry and a select few friends were aware of his…affliction. He knew it would only be a matter of time before someone from last night's events leaked what he was, and he was once again appearing in the Daily Prophet.

"No, Harry. You're no monster, and I'm sure he knows that. Anyway, you always hated him, why do you care what he thinks?" Hermione asked softly. She thought about it for a moment before the answer hit her. "You care for him, don't you?"

Harry nodded, his face cast in misery. He knew it was stupid, the professor hadn't cared one whit for him as a student. Harry was sure the dour man cared even less for him now he was not only an adult, but also considered a dark creature- something that a lot of witches and wizards hated and feared. Harry cried pitifully into Hermione's neck, sobs wracked his body before she dragged him to his room and lay next to him. She allowed Harry to cry himself to sleep in her arms before she slipped out to her own room- her mind in turmoil over what she had realised.

How long had Harry been caring for the snarky, dour, grumpy potions professor of Hogwarts? How long had he been keeping this locked away for? Hermione didn't know but she had a lot to mull over, and if Snape did go to the papers, she would need to find a way to dispel the rumours.

It wasn't that she was averse to people knowing what they were, but even in their world, there was still a great deal of prejudice over being a dark creature, especially a Vampire. Soulless, evil monsters with no place in their world.

She heard Harry shuffling about in his bedroom, a few wet sniffles along the way and her heart ached for him. He had so little joy in life, despite their flourishing club, shared living arrangements and occasional party to attend. But he rarely seemed to be truly happy, other than when they were doing something together.

She had wondered in the past if Harry had been simply in denial about his feelings for her, but it was clear before long that he did not see her in any romantic light. Not that she was hurt by this. She did find Harry attractive, and he worked hard to keep his muscles intact, but she had seen him walking around naked and felt nothing.

It amused her how many people assumed they were a couple or secretly in love with one another. No matter how many times they said that they were not a couple, it seemed people disbelieved them all the more.

So many thoughts swirled around her mind and she struggled to process them all, things to face with what Ron did, Snape turning up, and the one conversation that Harry always avoided- finding his Sire.

After a long while, she laid her head down and fought to sleep. Something told her that this sighting of Snape would not be last, and she had the deep, foreboding sense that good things were not on the way.