Bellatrix sat on a bed in the very cabin she had escaped from earlier today, cowering against the wall, her legs hugged tightly, trying to wrap her head around what had happened in the past hour. She remembered entering the Department of Mysteries and hiding behind that office desk, but from there she drew a blank.

The next thing she remembered was the most delicious flavour she had ever tasted in her entire life, and a sharp voice cutting deep into her brain.

His voice.

In every other situation the sound of his voice would have filled her with malicious excitement and vicious glee, but now all she felt was cold dread; the mere memory made her shudder.

The witch hugged her legs even tighter, trembling, silent tears starting to fall.

She was finished. She had no idea where to go from here, or what to do from now on.
This had been her last chance to regain her Dark Lord's favour, to prove her worth to him, but she couldn't deliver the boy or the prophecy to him. And, to be honest, she wasn't sure if it had even mattered. He hadn't asked for either of them. He had only addressed her with a look of utter disgust and a tone of vile revulsion before he had inflicted the Torture Curse on her.

Her shaking grew more violent at the memory of the almost unbearable pain of the curse. It had been fuelled by all his anger and contempt he felt for her. Realisation dawned on her and her heart clenched.
He hated her.
He hated her because she was different, because she had become something, he didn't deem pure, because she now no longer fit into his description of perfection.

Because she was a filthy vampire.

Her grip tightening yet again she slumped even more and started to cry openly, her sobs shaking her whole body.

Her Lord was right.
She was worthless, nothing more than an animal, a rotten halfbreed beast.
Who would even want her around?
Why should anyone even want her around?

Depression came crushing down on her like a wave breaking at shore, threatening to devour and drag her down into an endless pit of self-loathing. Her heart grew ever darker and she felt numb, deprived of all emotion.
She felt nothing.
Nothing, but the desire to succumb to the darkness inside, to disappear … to die.

She was just about ready to entirely give up on herself, when a sudden movement and disgruntled groan snapped her out of this pool of despair.
Only now fully realising that she had been sharing the bed this whole time, Bellatrix lifted her head and turned her exhausted gaze towards the other occupant.

It was the girl.
The girl who had been with her when she regained control over herself again.
The girl she …

Her eyes wandered to the brunette's neck where her bite marks were still visible.
She remembered it, the wonderful taste of the girl's blood, the enticing serenade of desire it played whenever its scent touched her nose.
Even now it was present.
The small trickles of dried-up blood still emanated enough of the captivating aroma to make her crave for more.

Eagerly, she licked her lips and crawled over to the student, now hovering just above her, cursing herself for doing so at the same time. With wide eyes she stared down into the sleeping beauty's face, slowly moving in on her neck to get another fill.

"N-No," the girl murmured in her sleep, startling the vampiress to a halt. Her face was contorted in displeasure as she writhed about a little. Bellatrix, actually a bit relieved, removed herself from her and watched as the girl groaned and shook.

"Today must have been quite traumatic for you, little girl," the witch hummed in a hollow voice and absentmindedly brushed back a rogue strand of hair that had fallen into her face, "mostly to my own merit, I feel."
Not that she cared or was even the slightest bit concerned for her wellbeing, but it was a welcome distraction from her own worries.

She cupped the girl's cheek with her hand and gently stroked it with her thumb. Her features immediately relaxed and her body stopped stirring. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow as her eyes trailed back to the young witch's bitten neck, when a thought crossed her mind.
Maybe it wasn't a nightmare that plagued her in her sleep. Bellatrix remembered the first time she awoke as a vampire and how upset she had felt … and how much the simple touch of Basilius hand had calmed her down.
She looked back at her hand that was still caressing the girl's cheek.

Was she having the same effect on her now?
Had she writhed about in discomfort because she was transforming?
Was she turning into a vampire?

Bellatrix wasn't exactly sure why, but the thought excited her.

Hmm… She would make a cute pet.

"She is going to be alright."

The sudden voice from behind startled her out of her thoughts. She turned around towards the source and saw none other than Basilius himself standing in the threshold to the next room. The witch jerkily removed herself from the sleeping girl and cowered herself back against the wall.

"And why would I care?" She grumbled towards the newcomer, abhorrence clear in her voice.

"Oh, I just assumed, since you were so lovingly tending to her," he explained and came closer, leisurely leaning against the desk across from the bed.

Bellatrix clicked her tongue and turned away from the vampire, her gaze again falling on the girl's resting face, which was now slightly contorted by discomfort once more.

"I wasn't," she growled irritated, as she shifted her line of sight back to the intruder, "what do you want?"

For a few painfully long seconds Basilius just returned her menacing glare with his own unwavering look. But eventually he dejectedly closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I … need to apologise."

That caught her off guard. She was prepared for a scolding, a snarky remark or even some kind of punishment, but she would've never expected this.
So, at a loss of words, she only softened her mimic, giving him the silent permission to carry on.

"I have come to realise that I handled the aftermath of your transformation rather …" he stopped his elaboration shortly to find the appropriate word, "… poorly."

Bellatrix didn't react to his words; she just kept silently watching him, settling to simply listen for the moment.

"I … should have been there for you from the very start. To guide you, to teach you, to help you adapt to your changed body."
He growled to himself.
"But ignorance led me to completely disregard your feelings. I thought you save there, locked away in Azkaban, so I focussed on other matters and planned to deal with you at a later time."
Basilius looked directly at her, giving her a weary and regretful smile.
"Fourteen years are but the blink of an eye for me. But you, who had just been turned a vampire, of course had not yet adapted to your new life and thus perceived time like you always have. It must have been an awful long time in your eyes."
He sighed deeply and drawn-out.
"I'm sorry."

Bellatrix still remained quiet, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of reacting to his heartfelt apology even in the slightest. Even though she had to admit that it did, in fact, touch her. But she'd never show it, of course. Instead, she only returned his intense gaze with her own stoic glare.

After a few seconds Basilius gave another sigh and a weary, sad smile.

"And now, I'm afraid, it's too late."
He stood up from his leaning position and started walking towards the vampiress.
"Even if I'd offer you to come with me, to be there for you and teach you everything you need to know, you already despise me too much to even consider it."

He reached the bed and gently cupped her cheek with his hand, just like she did with the girl only moments ago herself. And even though every conscious fibre in her body told her not to, she leaned into his touch, never breaking eye contact.

"Even now your eyes are filled with malice," he continued, retreating his hand from her face in the process.
Her stomach churned unpleasantly.
"And so, I decided to leave you alone."

Bellatrix felt a sting in her chest and resisted the urge to grasp it.

"I feel like, no matter what I say or do, nothing will get through to you. I am aware that you have reached a point where my words won't reach you, however hard I may try."
He sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Therefore, I believe it best to leave you in your own care. I can't help you at the moment. I have come to understand that you will need time to accept what happened. I realised that I have to let you move at your own pace, and come to terms with what you are, what you've become."
He took her hand and squeezed it tenderly.
"And, most importantly, to find out who you are."

Bellatrix had listened quietly to him, unmoving, but at his last words she crossly jerked her hand away from him. Her heart started racing, she clenched her fists and jaw and her body tensed up. Emotion stirred into a frantic storm within her, she hugged herself tightly. But, to her own great surprise, it wasn't anger she primarily felt, but sorrow.

"So, you decided to abandon me. Just like him" the witch hissed weakly and clawed her fingers into her shoulders, vigorously trying to hold back her tears.

"Not quite," came his soothing voice and she felt his hands softly wrap around her own, effectively disengaging them from herself, "I simply give you the freedom to find your own path."
Again, his words stirred up a feeling she wasn't very familiar with. Gratitude.
"And if that path ever leads you back to me," Basilius carried on while pulling her hands further towards him to place a soft kiss on her knuckles, "know, that I will always be welcoming you with open arms."

As she looked down into his sincere eyes, her mind and heart went to battle again. Her brain screamed to shove him away, to shower him with a barrage of curses for daring to even touch her. But her heart wanted to give in to his tender caress, to flee into his comforting arms and to cry on his shoulder, to let out all the pain and sorrow she felt deep inside.

A stir on the bed pulled her out of her thoughts, remembering again that there was still another person in here. The girl also caught Basilius attention and he let go of her hands. A pang of loneliness stabbed her in the chest and she resisted the urge to click her tongue.

The vampire got up and walked the few steps over to where the student's head rested, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I should take her back soon. I'm sure her friends are worried about her," he spoke calmly, his words causing another wave of loneliness to wash over her.
"But before that," he continued an turned his head towards the witch, "are there any questions you'd like to ask? Is there anything you want to know?"

Bellatrix contemplated his question as her head sunk, a myriad of things blasting through her mind simultaneously. She couldn't even grasp a single thought.
A mirthless chuckle escaped her throat.

"There are a thousand things I want to know and ask," she said in a low voice and lifted her gaze back up, which immediately fell on the sleeping girl, "but since you are so obviously eager to abandon me, I'll try to narrow it down." She shot him a malicious look, her words scathingly venomous.
She ignored his resigned sigh and her eyes fell back on the girl, a question finally forming in her mind.
"You said before, that she is going to be fine. Does that mean she won't turn into a vampire?"

"That is correct."

"But I bit her, so why?"

Basilius fell silent for a moment, intently staring at her.

"Because there is more to it than just a bite."

Bellatrix gave him a bewildered look, "How so?"

"Well, I don't want to go into too much detail right now, lest we sit here for quite some time," he carried on, only serving to increase her confusion, "so, in short, vampires inject a sort of 'venom' into their victim's body with a bite. This 'venom' is the indicator of the transformation and is triggered by the victim's death."

The witch just kept staring at him, confusion ever rising.

What the hell was he saying? Vampires were venomous? That couldn't be right, could it? It sounded ridiculous.
Then again, she knew next to nothing about vampires, never having been interested in them in the slightest. So, everything she would come to know about vampires, about herself, would be a leap into the unknown.

"I … I don't understand," she mumbled, grasping her head in frustration.

"And you don't need to yet," Basilius commented soothingly and graced her with a smile, "for now just remember not to kill anyone you bite. And as soon as you are ready to accept your current self and would like to know more, I will happily explain everything to you, down to the smallest detail."
He stood up from the bed and lifted the still sleeping girl into his arms, bridal style.
"And on that note, I have to bid you farewell."
His smile turned sad.
"There are a lot of things to attend to."

Bellatrix felt a sudden surge of panic.
"W-Wait! I still have questions!"
She wanted to sound angry, but her words came out desperate.

"I know, and I am sorry I have to leave you, but it is for the best," he tried to calm her down, but it didn't work. The vampiress still felt unsettled.
He looked her right in the eyes.
"Trust me, there's nothing I'd rather do, than to take you with me and show you everything you need to know."
He took a deep breath.
"But there are some things best learned on your own."

Bellatrix just sat there, staring at him, not knowing what to do or say right now.

"We will surely meet again, Bellatrix."
A warm and comforting feeling spread through her stomach, as he spoke her name.
"And until then, I wish you the best of luck."
He smiled widely and reassuringly and then vanished with a loud cracking noise.

Bellatrix didn't move. She felt empty.
He was gone. She was alone.

Slowly her body tipped to the side and laid itself down on the bed.
No one would mind if she rested here for a bit, would they?
She curled herself up.
No one would blame her for feeling lonely and betrayed, yes?
Her hand clutched her chest.
No one would judge her if she cried, right?

A loud wail resounded through the small and quiet cabin, as Bellatrix let her tears roam free.

Hermione's senses were slowly returning to her. She snuggled up into the warm and cozy bed and felt a gentle, mellow breeze sweep over her. Drawing in a deep breath she hummed contently as her eyes fluttered open.

The first thing she noticed was a strange man sitting on a chair next to her bed in the hospital wing. He had short, medium blonde hair, a goatee/mustache combo, and was wearing casual clothing. He was reading a book with a bored expression. Based on his appearance he must have been around his thirties.

Hermione sat up an took a look around. Aside from her and the stranger the room was fairly empty. Only Ron, who occupied the bed next to hers, was the sole other patient present.

"Finally awake, are we?" suddenly came the voice of the stranger, what made the girl look back at him. He, however, hadn't raised his eyes from the book in his hand.
"Two of your friends were released earlier," he explained, still not looking up, sounding bored and tired, "both had a simple bone fracture; an easy fix for a trained healer. The ginger over the—"

"His name is Ron," Hermione cut in sharply, what finally made him turn to her. She shot him a determined glare; she wouldn't allow anyone to address one of her friends in such a disrespectful manner.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed tiredly and returned to his book, "Ron over there was hit by some curse and still needs further treatment, but he'll be alright."

Pleased with herself to have successfully corrected him, the young witch allowed herself to smirk victoriously.

"And you, my dear," he continued undeterred, snapped his book shut and threw it on the bedside-table, "are the reason I'm here."
He scooped closer with his chair and looked Hermione dead in the eye, now sporting a serious expression.

"W-What do you mean? Who are you?" Hermione stuttered, flustered by the sudden attention, and brought as much distance between them as her bed allowed.

"The name's Jonathan Strauss. I was asked to check on you, because you were bitten by a vampire," he answered casually and gave a crooked smile.

Hermione's heart sunk. She only now remembered what had transpired last night. The image of a ferocious Bellatrix Lestrange chasing her through the Ministry flashed before her eyes. Her face paled as she recalled the feeling of sheer panic, when Bellatrix' smooth arms had wrapped around her body. She remembered those piercing, gleaming golden eyes that filled her with both horror and tranquility.

As if in a trance Hermione's hand moved up to her neck where the vampiress' teeth had struck. Her breathing accelerated and she was about to cry.

"Calm down," the man said soothingly and took her free hand into his own, squeezing it gently.
Hermione snapped out of her thoughts, her eyes trailing back to Jonathan.
"You are going to be fine," he assured her, "you are not going to become a vampire."

"I-I'm not?" the girl asked bewildered, actually a little bit calmer but not entirely convinced yet, "why?"

"Well," he drawled, apparently contemplating how to best explain it, "because in order to transform, the victim has to die."

Hermione blankly stared at him.
"What?"

"You see, the way it works is: When a vampire bites you, they inject a sort of venom into your body via their canines. If you die carrying that stuff around in your veins, it will take over and you reincarnate as a vampire. If not, your body will just fight it off eventually."

The girl's confusion only rose. "I… still don't quite understand."

"And you don't have to. For now, just focus on the fact that you are not turning into a vampire," the man said and winked at her, flashing an encouraging smile.
"However," he carried on, now a bit more serious again, "you will adopt some vampiric attributes for a few days. Nothing major, though. You'll just grow more sensitive to bright lights, loud noises, and strong smells; you'll feel a little weak under the sun and you might just have the occasional urge to drink blood."

Hermione looked at him with narrowed eyebrows.

"What brings me to my last agenda for the day. If you don't mind, I would like to take a few blood samples."

Her confusion now gave way to anxiety.
"W-What? Why?"
Her voice shook a little.

"Oh, no, no. Don't worry. It's not because I think something might be wrong," he waved off immediately and flashed a reassuring smile, "it's just that …"
The man took a deep breath and sighed stretched-out.
"It's not uncommon for vampires to lose it and fall back to their primeval ways, when they're starved of blood or something."
He shrugged parenthetically.
"But, usually, in that state vampires would go after anyone. Whatever the source, they would attack anything they can get their hands on, and yet …"
He leaned in and looked intently at the witch.
"From what I was told, that Bellatrix woman seemed particularly interested in you."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed deep in thought and lowered her head as she remembered last night's events, "she did attack others, though. But, now that I think about it, that was only when they got in her way." Her hand subconsciously moved towards her ribs. "Or to protect me." She looked back up at Jonathan and was met with thoughtfully narrowed eyes.

"Protect you?" he asked sceptically.

"Y-Yes," Hermione replied hesitantly, "why? Is that … weird?"

The man stared back at her silently for a moment.
"Well, at the very least it's unusu—"

"Hermione!" a familiar voice cut him off.

She turned her head towards the door and, as expected, saw Ginny standing there, grinning widely and waving at her. Hermione waved back an returned the smile.

"I guess we'll have to continue our conversation another time," Jonathan said and stood up.

"No, wait. I still have—"

"Questions, I know, and I plan to answer them. But, for now, you should enjoy some time with your friends." He turned to leave but briefly looked back at her.
"Keep in touch."
He gave a single wave and then, without stopping again, left the hospital wing.

Hermione could only watch as he disappeared and sighed dejectedly.
But there wasn't much time to fret over it, as Ginny excitedly wrapped her arms around her.

"It's so good to see you awake," the redhead exulted and squeezed her tight for a moment before letting her go to look intently into her eyes, "how are you?"
Hermione was about to answer but her best friend just pressed on boisterously.
"What happened to you? No one of the Order would tell me and I couldn't catch Harry yet. You know, with Dumbledore being so secretive with him and the whole thing with Sirius."

"What thing with Sirius?" Hermione immediately interrupted, concern clear in her voice.
Did they catch him, sent him back to Azkaban, or worse, would he be kissed by a Dementor?

"Oh, of course. You don't know yet," Ginny grinned widely and happily, effectively defusing the panic that had threatened to rear its ugly head within her, "Sirius has been pardoned."

Hermione's heart was instantly filled with glee.

"Really?" she asked excitedly, her eyes shining with delight.

Ginny nodded.

"When Fudge saw that Sirius was fighting on our side and not on You know who's, he was finally ready to hear everyone out and immediately cleared him of all charges."

"Harry must be so happy."

"I'm sure he is. Didn't have the time to talk to him, though," the redhead said, sounding a little down, "I woke up just before everyone was leaving for the Ministry again, to give their official statements and testimonies regarding Sirius. A formal thing that needs to be done, according to Fudge."

"I see," Hermione smiled. She couldn't be happier for Harry right now.

"And I couldn't get anything out of that guy," Ginny complained further and pointed at the empty chair next to the brunette's bed, "what was his deal anyway?"

"Well, he," Hermione started hesitantly, one hand subconsciously moving to the neck where she'd been bitten, "he seems to know some things about vampires."

The redhead blankly stared at her for a second.
"So, Bellatrix really is a vampire," she stated plainly and her expression darkened.
Hermione gave a nod.
"And she bit you?" Ginny asked, her face and voice now filled with sympathy.

"Yes," the brunette confirmed and dived into a narration of what transpired last night after the Weasley-girl had been knocked out. However, she stopped when she reached the point when Bellatrix had bitten her. After that moment her memories were a little fuzzy and unclear. Plus, she had the distinct feeling, that she didn't want to remember it anyway.

"Well," Ginny said after listening intently to her story, "you definitely belong into Gryffindor. Luring a vampire, no, luring Bellatrix Lestrange away on your own was stupidly brave."
They both laughed at the joke but the redhead suddenly started fiddling with her hands and seemed nervous.
"So, um, does that mean you are…?"
She was obviously uncomfortable with that question and left it unsaid.
And she didn't have to finish it; Hermione knew exactly what her friend wanted to know.

"No, I'm not," she assured the girl and proceeded with telling her what Jonathan had told her only minutes before.

"Well, he sure is rude," Ginny concluded from her story and sat up, "but it seems like he knows his stuff. Who do you think asked him to come, though?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered, as much at a loss as her redheaded friend, "no one could have known that I was bitten by a vampire. The only people there were I, Bellatrix and …"
The memories of shining, blood-red eyes flashed before her eyes. A cold voice filled with resentment and revulsion resounded inside her head.
Her body shivered at the memory, her face went white and she started hyperventilating.

"Are you ok?"
The worried voice of her friend paired with the soft and warm touch of her hand on hers snapped her out of her fit.
She looked at Ginny, beads of cold sweat covering her forehead, her breath still accelerated.

"Yes, I'm fine," she panted and swallowed hard, trying to breathe evenly, "I … I think I'm just not feeling as well as I thought." She withdrew her hand from Ginny's and leaned back into her pillow.
"M-Maybe I need some more rest."
She hated to lie to her best friend but she really didn't want to discuss her meeting with Voldemort. She didn't even want to remember it.

Hermione took a glimpse at the redhead and saw her worry-stricken face. But, luckily, she didn't pry any further.

"Alright," she simply said and stood from the bed, smiling at the brunette, "I'll let you get some rest. And when I meet Harry, I'll let him know that you're alive and well."

"Thanks."

"Get well soon."
With that, Ginny turned and left the hospital wing, giving her a small wave before exiting through the door.

Hermione stared after her for a few seconds and then sighed deeply, sinking into her pillow even further. She tried to ban last night's memories from her mind, but it wouldn't work. Every time she closed her eyes, she was met with another two pairs. One a threateningly dreadful red, the other a frightening, yet somehow enticing gold.
No, she wouldn't be able to get any sleep right now.

Tiredly, the teenager turned her head and caught sight of her bedside table, where the book Jonathan was reading before still rested. She propped herself up again and, curious as she was, picked up the tome.

"Journey to the West," she read the title aloud, her interest peaked, "I've always wanted to read it some time." She opened it and found a small business-card tucked to a corner of the hardcover. It had the name 'Dr. Jonathan Strauss' as well as a phone number printed on it and a scribbled handwritten note underneath that read:
Call me after the 'v-fects' wore off … and enjoy the book

She shook her head and sighed at the bad pun.

Was that supposed to be funny?

She took the card and put it neatly in her pocket, before she returned her attention back to the book and started reading.

The next day Harry, as well as Luna, Ginny and Neville came to visit her and Ron, who had regained consciousness again. After they had all caught up with each other and the most resent events, Harry turned a worried face to Hermione and addressed the one thing she hoped no one would ask her about.

"So, how are you feeling after … you know … Voldemort tortured you?"

The group instantly went silent. Ron flinched at the mention of the Dark Lord's name while the others all stared at the brunette with wide eyes.

"I'm fine," she mumbled and looked down to her hands, not able to stand the gazes of her friends, of course convincing no one, not even herself.

"Hermione, I know how it feels to be tortured by him," Harry said empathically and reached for the girl's hands, "you can talk—"

"I said, I'm fine!" Hermione burst out, snatching her hands away before Harry could touch them and shot him a glare.

Harry got visibly angry and was ready to lash out.

"It's all right, Harry," Luna, however, cut in aloof as always and put her hand on his shoulder, "Hermione doesn't have to tell us if she's not ready to." The blonde turned her silvery eyes to the brunette and smiled brightly.

She never figured out how to deal with that girl, didn't really know how to approach or talk to her. Honestly, she had always believed her to be … weird … and a little bit crazy. But in this moment, she was glad Luna was here to stop Harry.

Hermione returned the smile and mouthed a 'thank you' to her.
Luna's smile grew a little wider and she distinctively blinked once, probably her attempt to wink.
Hermione had to stifle a laugh.

Harry, meanwhile, had stared at the blonde girl this whole time. Only when she removed her hand from him did he come back from his thoughts.
"Uh, yeah, you're right, Luna. I'm sorry," he stammered and averted his gaze.
Hermione could've very well been mistaken, but she was pretty sure she saw a tint of red on his cheeks when he turned away.

"Well, not to spoil the mood here," Ginny suddenly raised her sarcastic voice, "but I'm starving. Anyone up for some lunch?"
The group unanimously agreed and stood up, wished the two patients a speedy recovery and left, but not before everyone had worriedly glanced at Hermione for one last time.

As soon as they were out of the room Hermione breathed a deep sigh and fell back into her pillow. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face but immediately stopped again when an image of Voldemort flashed before her eyes. His gleaming blood-red irises pierced her very soul; her stomach churned unpleasantly. Cold sweat formed on her forehead, her face paled and her breath quickened.

"You ok?" She heard Ron's voice from beside her, successfully saving her from her own mind.
"If you need anything—"

"I'm fine, Ronald," she blurted out, harsher than she had anticipated and regretted it right away, as she saw the stricken face of the redhead.
"Sorry," she panted and wiped away the sweat with her sleeve, "I just … need some time."

"Alright," Ron said meekly and snuggled back into his sheets, "whenever you're ready."

The witch felt a pang of guilt and compassion for her friend but chose to ignore it for now. Instead she turned her eyes to the bedside-table and reached for the book lying there. It would be a most welcome and much needed distraction.

Harry and the others didn't come again for the rest of the day. Hermione wasn't sure how to feel about that, however. She was relieved that they hadn't come back to interrogate her about the torture, but at the same time she felt distraught, wondered if she had maybe been too hard, too aggressive with Harry.
But her worries proofed to be unfounded.
After she was released from the hospital wing the next morning, she joined up with her friends and it was like their argument had never happened.

But despite her happy reunion and the wonderful weather they had for their remaining days until the end of term, Hermione spent most of her time in the library. Not only because it was her favourite room in the entire school, but also because Jonathan's diagnosis turned out to be correct. She actually felt weaker under the sunlight and everything she saw, heard or smelled seemed to be clearer, more intense. Also, when Ginny accidentally cut her finger at breakfast one time, she found herself hungrily yearning for a taste of her blood. Unfortunately, the redhead had noticed and kept on teasing her ever since.

So, the library was the perfect place for her to retreat to. It was quiet, dimly lit and its most prominent smell was the scent of parchment, that Hermione loved so much. Plus, none of her friends would be caught dead in here after the school year was practically over.

Her highest priority when visiting the library, however, was to research everything she could about vampires. Her encounter had made clear to her that there was a significant void of knowledge, what spurred a thirst within her she indispensably sought to quench.
And after hours and days of reading books and parchments, notes or other forms of recording she learned … nothing.
All she could find were rumours, hearsay, myths or legends. It almost seemed as if nobody ever met a vampire at all.
Even Hagrid was only able to convey stories.

That only left the restricted section in the library. Begrudgingly, since it had been so close to the end of term, Professor McGonagall hadn't given her permission to visit it. So she had to postpone that idea until after the summer break.

Thus, as she was sitting in her compartment on the train ride back to London, she stared at the business card she had received from her strange visitor the day after she was bitten. He would know something; he would have answers. She was sure of it.

Determined to make the call once she had the chance, she packed the card away and looked out the window to watch the ever-darkening sky, as they steadily approached London.

Her eyes grew heavy and she slowly drifted off into a light slumber.

Scenes from the night in the Ministry of Magic played out in her dreams, or rather, one specific moment:
Bellatrix' arms wrapped around her body, her pointy chin resting on her shoulder and her cool breath stroking her skin.
The vampiress slowly turned the girl around in her grip, closing in on her neck, fangs bared. Hermione didn't resist. She melted into her assailants embrace, grabbing onto her. She threw her head back and tipped it to the side to give Bellatrix an easier access. Her heart went into a frenzy when the dark witch's canines scratched her skin, ready to strike.
Hermione held her breath.

"Hey, wake up!"

The brunette was shaken out of her dream. She had to blink a few times to grasp what was going on.

"Are you ok? You were groaning in your sleep," Ginny asked worriedly, while all the other occupants looked at her with concern and sympathy.

"Yes, I'm alright. It's just …," Hermione said and sighed tiredly, "I keep dreaming about Bellatrix, when she …"
She left the rest unsaid and mildly touched her neck.

"Aw, you poor thing," Ginny spoke motherly and gave her a tight, loving hug.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Ron chipped in and took Hermione's hand, giving it a light squeeze, "I can't even imagine how it must feel to be attacked by a crazy vampire."

"It must have been awful," Neville agreed with the two redheads, who both retreated from the brunette again to give her some space.

"Yes," Hermione breathed absentmindedly, deeply lost in her thoughts, "it was terrifying."

… and exciting.

A small smile tucked at the corner of her mouth. She quickly turned her face away before anyone could notice.
However, in the window's reflection, she caught Luna's silvery eyes studying her. In her typical aloof way, the blonde flashed a wide, knowing smile.

Embarrassed, Hermione blushed a light shade of pink and broke eye contact.

Man, that chapter gave me a hard time.
I'm so glad it's finally done - even though I'm still not fully satisfied. But, whatever.

Hope you enjoyed it anyway.

And, as always, thank you for reading, following, favouriting and reviewing.