Violence was never something Hermione had a proclivity towards. If anything, she had been adverse to it. Even when she was fighting in the war, she carefully selected spells that would cause the least amount of pain and destruction. This was intentional, because she knew that under the mask was someone who she might have known, who had someone who loved them, who was a person.
This was intentional, because she knew that if she let them suffer, she wouldn't be able to remove the sounds of their screams from her memory.
But when she thought of Draco Malfoy, she knew he did not deserve her mercy like the others.
She knew she'd be able to live with herself if he felt pain by her own hands. Hell, she may even sleep better because of it.
Vampirism, lycanthropy, and other blood maldedictuses are caused by an infection of the blood by a vector. However, for a host to be successfully infected, the vector must provide intent for the curse to take hold. Vampirism is an infection, so perhaps a complete blood transfusion would kill or render him powerless…
Hermione heard Astoria's light skipping up the stairs, waking her from a restless sleep. She sat up from the desk, groaning as her back cracked as she straightened. Falling asleep at a table or desk with her head on a book was becoming more common as of late. The ink from the page had transferred to her cheek, and Hermione sighed when she looked at the smudged page. Astoria set a tray of pastries and tea in front of her. The warm scents of vanilla and pumpkin made her think of simpler times.
"Hermione, why are you covered in blood?" Astoria asked, seeing her gray pajamas stained a dark crimson.
"You haven't seen your dear husband yet?"
"This morning, but he didn't say anything about blood."
"Astoria, shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Don't change the subject. And no, I shouldn't be. I feel fine. I came up so we could do your fitting." She waved her wand, removing the blood from Hermione's body. When Hermione looked at her hands, there was still some underneath her fingernails, but she refrained from telling her. It was as if this was a common occurrence for Astoria, to find someone covered in blood in her home.
"Fitting?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Yes, for your gown for the Solstice Ball, silly," she said, sitting on the desk and crossing her ankles. She did look brighter today, less tired, Hermione thought. But she didn't doubt that Astoria likely took some potions and had the house elves help her.
"Astoria, I don't think I'll be attending that."
"Draco didn't tell you?" Her wand flicked again, and several measuring tapes appeared and wrapped around her body.
"Didn't tell me what?" She gasped as a tape measure wrapped tightly around her breasts.
She pulled out a quill and wrote down the measurements, circling Hermione to get a better look. "That wards are heavily encouraged to attend these events to socialize with other witches and wizards."
"You realize that makes us sound like dogs, right?"
"Hey, it's their wording not mine," she said, holding her hands up to plead innocence. "But I think you're required to at least show your face so people stop talking."
Hermione eyed her curiously, "What do they say?"
"Well… they say Draco is shit at the reeducation program. They say he's not cut out for it, all he's good at is killing. All the ladies at book club say he's doing anything to preserve the pure-bloodlines of the Wizarding world. Especially since I don't have any kids. And I say good riddance to all of that. I've seen those in the program, they just sit there all lifeless. They just talk about blood purity and…"
"Astoria," Hermione's voice was firm, demanding. "Who have you seen?"
"Oh. Um. I don't know all of their names. Farah Abbott, Trisha Brown, Amber Tripe, Katie Bell recently… to name a few… There are some men too, James Prewitt, Ernie MacMillan. Those are just the ones I know."
"You didn't think to tell me this before?" Hermione stood up, crossing her arms.
If Astoria wasn't who she was, Hermione may have screamed at her. But her fragile demeanor made it difficult for a voice to be raised. The innocence of Astoria was difficult for Hermione to wrap her head around, but it made her act more gently in her presence. But this was an entirely different matter now. This was a topic of war, not magazine headlines or socialite gossip.
"I didn't want to upset you, Hermione. You're already so upset being here. I know you hate this house and you hate Draco, I didn't want you to hate me too." Astoria's brown eyes were fixed on the ground, she didn't meet Hermione's glare.
"There is a war going on, Astoria! People are dying! And all you give a shit about is your parties and your tabloids," Hermione yelled. "These are people I care for. Last time I saw Katie was two days before she was taken. She talked about the end of the war, and how she wanted to adopt muggle children who were orphaned. Katie would have never willingly declared herself to your Dark Lord!"
Astoria began to sob, holding her head in her hands. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't realize…"
"Is there an issue?" Draco said as he reached the top of the stairs. He immediately looked to Astoria who was still clutching her face and crying.
"I'm… I'm fine, Draco." Astoria said, breathing heavily.
His eyes bore into Hermione and his lips were curled into a snarl. "Don't talk to her ever again, mudblood." He took Astoria in his arms and walked her towards the stairs.
"She didn't do anything wrong, Draco," she sniffed, dabbing the sleeve of her robe to her eyes.
"You're crying, Astoria. You need to relax and rest."
Hermione didn't see anyone but the house elves for the next few days. She was alone in her room, and asked Tappy to retrieve books for her from the library. She was upset that she had become so dependent on Astoria's company. Loneliness was something she struggled with. She had always had Ron or Harry by her side up until a few years ago.
Afterwards, she tried to latch onto anyone she could, Ginny, Seamus, and even Luna. But there was always hesitation, so she didn't allow herself to get close to them like how she would have wanted to. She saw they had lives outside of her, and knew that she was only a small piece of their world.
But somehow, Astoria made Hermione feel like the center of hers.
It was a distraction from the war, lowering her guard. Nearly forgetting at times she was held captive by a vampire, which was dangerous.
—
"You're getting real good at this, mudblood," Draco said with a smirk as Hermione downed a calming draught. Before the effects took hold, she rolled her eyes, making sure he saw.
"Getting good at being tortured?" she replied flatly.
"Well, thanks to me. They get bored the less you scream, and we've cut the time we're there in half. Can finally get other shit done now."
She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Like killing Order members?"
"Oh, a little feisty still. Perhaps we need to up your dose."
"No more."
"Is that all you think I do, Granger?" he asked
"No, I also think you stand in front of a mirror and wank off to yourself. And I also think you spend too much time on your hair and not enough time reading those books in your library."
Draco gave a dry laugh. "You're sure you don't need another one?"
"Positive."
She just stood and stared at him, feeling the warm breeze of the summer on her skin. The overcast clouds hid the sun, and she desperately missed the feeling of it on her face. Hermione looked down at her hands, seeing how pale she had gotten, the blue veins stretching across them so visible now.
"Well, you're gonna have to put on the act of your life then, or our jig is up."
"What are you on about, Malfoy?"
"You see, those in the reeducation program, they are trained to be real sweet on Death Eaters. So much to the point where they switch sides, get it?"
"No."
"You're going to have to pretend to play pretend, Granger. Or I'll be forced to make you."
"No."
"Merlin, it's horrendous talking to you like this."
"Is it worse than me being insufferable?"
"Currently? Yes."
Hermione shrugged. Draco rolled his eyes and brought his hand to his head in frustration.
"Must you always make things so difficult for me?"
"Yes."
His face twisted and he grit his teeth. She saw the fangs peeking under his lips as he spoke. "Listen, Granger. The both of us are royally fucked if you can't put on a little show and be a good, little mudblood. I suggest you start acting a little more tolerable sooner, rather than later. Hate me all you want when no one is around, I don't give a fuck. But it wouldn't kill you to just act. Unless you want to end up like the other ones."
"What happens to them?"
"Brainwashing, essentially. Under prolonged Imperius curses. Really strong ones. A combination of hexes and calming draughts along with it, and there you have it: re-educated. Under it for so long, it makes them think it's their reality. Changes their brain."
If Hermione wasn't under the effects of a potion, she would have thrown up. She would have screamed and wailed, but she stood there, emotionless.
"Why haven't you done it to me?"
"Because you haven't found out how to kill me yet."
—
Hermione clutched her stomach as she laid on the ground. The Legilimency attempts were becoming more and more painful, with the visions even more violent and disgusting. It was so taxing, that Voldemort didn't even bother sicking his Death Eaters on her as a punishment.
Draco stood over her, the emerald mask covering his face, looking the Dark Lord in the eyes.
"Her temperament is acceptable but her mind is still sealed, vampire. In the time that you've had her, two of Crouch's wards have pledged their allegiance to me. One of them was also a skilled Occlumence. This mudblood doesn't even seem the slightest bit moved by your efforts," his hoarse voice snapped.
"My lord, we are making progress. I assure you, when we are able to breach the mudblood's memories, it will be worth the wait."
"Wait? We cannot delay anymore than you have already. You need to expedite this process. I need to know where Potter is hiding, and I need to know who in our midst is leaking this information."
"My Lord…"
"For your lack of results, I will hold you accountable for the breach today that freed over 200 Order soldiers during their transfer to Azkaban."
Voldemort, along with several other Death Eaters, casted restraints to bring him to his knees.
"Incendio," Voldemort spat, causing flames to lick up Draco's robes. The fire grew, and started to envelop him. Hermione crawled away, feeling the intensity of the heat. The smell of burning flesh in her nostrils made her gag. She watched as his skin bubbled and burst, spraying puss onto the stone floor as the fire climbed the right side of his body.
And his screaming. His fucking screaming. Hermione held her ears as his yells rattled in her already aching head.
The images Voldemort had seared into her skull wouldn't stop playing over the sound of Draco suffering. Fire couldn't kill him. It could hurt him, but fire is only effective after his heart has been stopped to prevent him from reanimating. He would just continue to be in pain.
"Stop! Please stop!" Hermione pleaded. "Stop hurting him…"
The flames extinguished, and Voldemort's black eyes raked over her. "Well then, isn't that nice, muggle-born? It seems that maybe there is some progress."
Half of Draco's body was charred and smoking, seeping blood from the cracks in his skin. Hermione crawled to his side, and he looked at her. His silver eyes were defeated and broken.
"The next time you are summoned, I must have something tangible from Potter's mudblood. If not, I may have to pay a visit to Malfoy Manor and see that beautiful wife of yours." Voldemort flashed his yellow teeth.
Draco held onto Hermione with his free hand and promptly let go once they were back on the Malfoy property. They both stumbled into the dark mansion in the early morning hours. He flicked his wand towards the fireplace, casting a roaring fire and sat in the armchair near it. His hands shakily grabbed hold of a bottle of alcohol and he drank deeply from it, wincing as he moved.
Hermione sat on the couch across from him, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her fingers went to her temples, where she tried to massage the pain away.
"Put on a hell of a performance in there, Granger." He held the bottle out to her, and she saw as his skin slowly started to transform and heal itself back to its original state. To her, it seemed that fire took longer to heal than other injuries. The cuts had healed almost instantaneously, but it had been well over half an hour since he was ablaze, and was still recovering. "Even I thought for a second you wanted him to stop burning me."
She grabbed the bottle from his hand, "I just wanted to stop your screaming. It was hurting my head."
He laughed and sank deeper into the velvet armchair. "You really can't give him anything? Not a small armory or an abandoned safe house? Or even just an insignificant memory, like when you learned how to fly a broom or something. Just a taste to hold him over until I find the mole."
Hermione had practiced with Harry for years on her Occlumency. It had become a nasty habit that she depended on to get through the war. She was so adept at creating barriers, that Veritaserum would not work on her, even at high doses. She even thought, though had never tested, that the Imperius curse would be less effective on her than the average wizard.
But she couldn't ever figure out how to separate each individual thought and feeling.
"Not from my mind, no," she sighed, choking back the terrible vodka he had handed her. "If one thing slips, all of it comes tumbling. I couldn't figure out how to separate things."
"Who taught you this shit way of Occlumency? Don't fucking tell me it was Potter."
Hermione laughed audibly at him. "Like you could do any better?"
Draco shrugged, "I can do better than Potter, that is for damn sure. Snape may have trained him, but Potter, you didn't even have to read his mind to know what he was thinking. Always wore it on his face, that twat." Hermione gave him a glare, but he paid it no mind. "You liked school so much, so consider Occlumency lessons from me a gift for being such a delightful house guest. We'll need to start as soon as possible, but definitely not tonight."
He groaned as he leaned in for the bottle again. Hermione didn't know if the lingering effects of the calming draught were still in her system, or if she was simply getting used to Draco's presence around her. Two months ago, she would have recoiled if he had even blinked in her direction. Now, she was sharing a bottle with a mouth that tore out her lover's throat.
She hated herself for that.
"Why don't you care what's in my mind?" she asked quietly.
"For someone so intelligent, your lack of perception is astounding. I do care what's in your mind, but it has nothing to do with your shit Order." He took a drink, not breaking eye contact with her. "Let me spell it out for you: I couldn't give a fuck about winning this war. If I let him enter your brain, he kills you, and then my little vampire slayer is dead. You're the only one who can come close to finding some sort of cure for this affliction, so I need you very much alive."
"Does he threaten you with Astoria often?"
He stared into the fire, and Hermione watched the orange casts of light dance across his pale, damaged skin.
"Yes, he knows it's the only thing that is effective on me. Bringing up Astoria and Daphne."
"I'm going to do what I can, to try to protect them. But you have to be honest with me."
"What's that, Granger?"
"Is she dying?"
Draco's expression fell immediately. "Yes."
She hesitated before asking the next question. No longer did she believe he wanted her to cure him. It wasn't for him. It was never for him.
"Are you going to turn her into a vampire?"
Draco was silent, and Hermione observed his face in the glow of the fireplace. It was hardened and serious, as if his glare could cut glass. Hermione almost regretted asking him, scared at his response. At any moment, it looked as if he could explode. His jaw was clenched tight and he grinded his teeth, making him look razor sharp and dangerous. It was a ticking time bomb in front of her, and she would be the light to ignite the fuse.
"Go to bed, mudblood. Get the fuck out of my sight."
—
The warmth of the summer air wrapped around Hermione, the gentle breeze blew between her curls. Though a book was opened on the small picnic table in the garden, her eyes stared beyond the barrier. The sunlight kissed the treetops ahead of her, and she was jealous of each one of the leaves.
Every time she saw herself in the mirror, she felt as if she was turning into a vampire herself. Her skin was becoming so pale, she could see the veins in her neck, creeping down her arms, and in her hands.
She wanted to escape, to gather as many books in her arms as possible and run back to 12 Grimmauld Place.
Protection and containment barriers, very strong ones, last at most one week. They degrade in strength over time, but the house elves check it twice a day. Malfoy seems to re-cast the barriers each Monday. If I could test the wall for gaps Sunday night, I may be able to wedge my way…
"Ready, Granger?" she heard the voice that grated on her ears like nails on a chalkboard ask. Hermione shrugged and kept silent as Draco sat at the table across from her. His demeanor seemed more cheerful than usual, but she kept her guard up either way. She knew he could turn nasty at any second. "Here's how this will work, I'm going to cast the legilimency spell on you, and you cannot block me out fully. Pick a memory, and show it to me. And you need to be selective about it. Intentional. Got it?"
"If it were that easy, Malfoy, we wouldn't be out here, would we?"
Draco huffed, a pang of annoying washing over his face. He pointed his wand at her. "Legiliment."
The pain was subtle, like a pin prick in the base of her skull. But slowly, that pin became a knife, wedging into her head. It was painful, but felt like a tickle compared to Voldemort's Legilimency. If his was an invasion, Draco's felt like a soft knock on the door. She slowly tried to pull one of the memories carefully off the shelf in her mind.
"Project it, Granger. See it in front of you."
When she opened the book, she saw it play like a movie. Her fist colliding into his nose, the crack it made, watching him scurrying away. She was pleased with herself, smiling as she saw the young Draco Malfoy run in fear. It was one of her more vivid memories of their childhood together, a reminder that even before he was turned into a monster, he was always vile.
Quickly, the scene slipped away from her as she saw his blood smeared everywhere, the #22 blade in her hands. His body was a statue with her bloodied handprints pressed all over his skin, adorning him like graffiti on a wall.
She heard his voice over her shoulder, whispering into her ear, the cold breath making her heart skip a beat. "You're a sick fuck, Granger. Sicker than me even."
Then she felt it, as if it were happening over again, him consuming her blood. Watching it seep into the lips. Tempting him by slipping her finger into his mouth. Making her knees weak as she looked into his silver eyes with his mouth wrapped around her finger.
"And you're a pervert," he mumbled softly, his lips touching her ear.
Then, the familiar embrace of Ron was wrapped from behind her, kissing her where Draco's lips once were. She nearly jerked away from him, but his embrace lulled her into comfort. It had been so long since she had felt this. Warmth. Love.
"Mione, you're so beautiful." His voice was muffled as he kissed down to her neck.
Draco stood in front of them, his eyes locked with hers. "Merlin, the two of you look so pathetic. Stop thinking about him, I don't want to see Weasley's red pubes and pimply ass."
"I can't," she said as the memory of Ron started to unbutton her blouse. One by one, they opened as Ron trailed down her body. Draco's stare was now more intense, his eyes not leaving hers.
"Granger, change the memory. Now."
"I'm- I'm trying…"
"Are you seriously this touch deprived? It's pitiful."
Ron palmed her breasts, and she gasped. His warm, rough hand slipped into her pants, and before she could let out a whimper, they were thrown back onto the picnic table.
Draco held his head in his hand, shaking it. "You really are terrible at this. Imagine that was a memory of an Order safe house with children! They'd be gone, Granger. Before you could even blink!"
Tears started to fall from her eyes, despite trying her best to hold onto them. "I… I tried… I really tried to…"
"Trying isn't enough. Not when her life is at stake."
He stood from the table and stormed away, leaving Hermione sitting under the clouds, crying into her hands.