Hermione woke up early in the morning with a headache so bad, she could have sworn that it was Legilimency and not a raging hangover. From what she could recall after seeing Katie Bell, she danced with Theodore and then joined the Greengrass sisters and some of their friends in card games. It was still dark out, beating the sunrise was something she had become accustomed to over years. Since the sleeping and calming charms on the bed had worn off after the first two weeks of her arrival, she had only gotten around four hours of rest a night. She was tired, but restless. It gave her more time to read though, which was a positive she found despite the bags under her eyes becoming darker by the day.
Coffee and books. That's what she wanted more than anything right now. No better way to calm a pounding head for her than a nice cup of coffee. And a perk of being held captive in the home of one of the most well-off wizarding families in all of England was the selection they had in the pantry. Hermione had made it a morning routine to make herself a cup when she woke. Tappy had insisted that he would bring one to her, but she politely refused. It was therapeutic to smell each bag, grind the beans, and watch it drip into the carafe. Hermione liked doing things with her own hands, it reminded her of home.
She had woken up so many mornings at various Order safe houses and would make a big pot. She would sit patiently next to it and wait for people to trickle into the kitchen. They would take their first sip, and she would light up when she told them how she made it, always insisting on doing it the muggle way. Just as her dad did it.
As she made her way down the stairwell, she caught the figure of Draco Malfoy in the darkness of the morning. The fireplace barely lit the entryway, and she noticed he was leaning into the front door. Hermione saw a pair of arms covered in black lace, wrapped around his neck, fingers running through his hair.
Before she could take another step, Draco's head spun and his eyes glared at her and she felt frozen in place. From over his shoulder, she saw Pansy Parkinson look in shock and horror.
"Do you ever fucking sleep, Granger?" he snapped. Pansy quickly made her way out the door and Draco frustratingly sighed, haphazardly buttoning up his shirt that had been undone.
If Hermione Granger had hated Draco Malfoy before this point, she loathed him now. Not only was he a murderous vampire, he was an unfaithful husband to a woman she thought was next to perfect. There were no boundaries with him that were too extreme. She crossed her arms, looking down, eyes like daggers into his.
"You're a pig, Draco Malfoy. A villainous pig," she muttered as she walked past him.
Unexpectedly, he followed behind her. She could feel him on her trail, just inches away as she pushed through the doors into the kitchen. "You have no idea who the fuck I am."
"Are you sure?" she asked, opening up the pantry and searching through the bags of coffee. "You are a vampire. A murderer. A narcissist. A cheater. A monster . And Astoria is the only thing good in your miserable fucking life."
Draco grabbed Hermione's shoulder and turned her to face him, forcing her back against the pantry shelves. His icy stare lingering on her eyes, as if he was looking through her. "You think I don't know that? She and Daph are the only things I care about."
"You're not capable of caring for anyone. And worse yet, you're going to make her just like you!" Hermione slipped away from him, making a beeline for the knife block on the counter. She pulled a serrated steak knife from it and spun around, holding it out in front of her. "Don't ever fucking touch me again."
Draco let out a laugh, taunting her. He shook his head, taking a single step in her direction. "Now, what do you think you're going to do with that?"
"Take another step and find out."
Hermione gasped as Draco slammed his body against hers. The force of his movement lodged the knife deep into his shoulder, Hermione's hand was still wrapped tightly on the hilt. She attempted to remove it, but it was stuck in his flesh. Blood trickled from the incision, dripping onto her face as she looked up at him. His face was emotionless, unphased by Hermione's attempt to inflict harm.
"This would be a laughable attempt if you weren't so annoying. Are you happy now that you've made me bleed? Or shall I let you have another go?" he grumbled.
His hand wrapped around hers, and he pulled the knife out with ease, forcing her to drop it to the ground. The wound healed perfectly, leaving only the smear of blood behind.
"You're heartless," Hermione whispered.
Draco grabbed her bloodied hand and placed it onto the center of his chest. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, furrowing his brow in concentration. Hermione felt the slow beating of his heart, almost half the pace of hers, but steady. She felt the gentle heaves of his breath, the cold air escaping him, brushing against her cheeks as she measured his heart rate.
Obviously, she knew that vampires anatomically had a heart, but she didn't expect it to feel so strangely human to her.
"Think I'm evil, unfaithful, deplorable, whatever fancy words you want. But never, ever question my devotion to Astoria. I swore to her father I would keep her safe, no matter what."
Though he wasn't holding her any longer, her hand was still on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, thinking on his words.
Cornelius wanted to protect his daughters. Who better to watch over them than the most notorious Death Eater in Voldemort's ranks? She had never seen them kiss or share an intimate moment. They didn't even share a bed.
"You married her because Voldemort would have killed her. Cornelius Greengrass was a traitor, he would have wanted to end their bloodline." She said it as a fact, blunt and to the point.
He stepped backwards, offering her room to move. "I see your mind is functional now that it's free of alcohol."
Hermione pushed past him and made her way back to the pantry, grabbing a bag of coffee and starting a kettle. Draco sat at the counter, watching as she poured hot water over the grounds. The smell filled the large kitchen as it dripped slowly from the filter into a carafe. She fixed a mug for each of them and watched as he took a sip.
Hermione had initially assumed their atypical sleeping arrangement was due to the fact that vampires slept very little compared to humans, coupled with Astoria's poor health.
"Astoria has some sort of blood curse, doesn't she?" Hermione asked. "One that she likely inherited. That's why she's been sick her whole life."
"She strikes again. Maybe you should put down the bottle, Granger. I've never been more impressed."
All the books on blood curses that littered the Malfoy library, it was in front of her on the pages of every book. She had been so blinded by her rage and her desire to remove his curse, she didn't even realize Astoria's.
"You've spent a lot of time and money trying to cure her. The only other option you have now to keep her alive is by turning her into a vampire," Hermione stated, as if she could read his mind.
Draco exhaled through his nose, resting his head in his hands. "The only reason why I have even let the notion be considered is because her father and Daphne. They have asked me to do it."
"Astoria doesn't get a stay?"
"I've known for a long time that she's come to terms with her fate. She's so tired and wants to rest. But she doesn't want to leave Daph alone, and Daph won't let her go easily. She will persist as long as she can, and is willing to suffer a fate worse than death, if that means it'll make Daphne and I happy."
Hermione knew very well that was true. Even in just the few months she had known Astoria, she could see her selflessness. Her kindness was the only thing that made captivity bearable. If there was a shred of humanity that Draco had, it was her.
Draco ran his finger along the rim of the mug, he had nearly drunk the entire cup, but it was still steaming from the heat.
"Cornelius said the curse was on her mother's side of the family. From what he discerned, it didn't seem to have any specific pattern it affected, Tori just seemed to be unlucky. His baby girl, dying in front of his eyes." Draco shook his head, looking down at the bottom of the mug. "I spent more days at the Greengrass estate than I ever did here. Cornelius was a good man, a better father to me than my own. He lost his wife, and was losing his daughter. The last request he had was to protect them, and to save Tori. But I can't do that to her, Granger. I can't damn her to this existence, and I cannot let her die. That's why I need you to find out how I can turn her back."
Draco's voice was desperate but soft. She watched as he carefully lifted the coffee pot and poured himself more before moving to top off her mug. His arm, responsible for so much pain and misery, reached out and was delicately offering her a warm drink. The same arm she had seen rip people to shreds and cast spells that removed the souls from their bodies. A peace offering, a show of trust, using his own self to serve her.
"How many more have you killed since I've been locked away here?"
"Too many to count," his voice responded in nearly a whisper.
Her hands wrapped around the mug, feeling the heat radiating through the ceramic. Draco Malfoy, the once scrawny boy who was nothing more than a school yard bully, was now the most lethal creature in Voldemort's army. Yet when she looked at him, she saw the same sadness and helplessness that were in his blue eyes long ago.
"The way you care about them, Malfoy. There has to be some good in you."
"Whatever good I have is her, Granger."
"I can't keep helping you if you continue to weaken the Order."
His face became more intense, lips pursed. He abruptly stood, pushing away from the counter and towered over her. "Now you're threatening me with Astoria's life? Do you think this is a hobby I enjoy, Granger? Do you think I like killing?"
Hermione didn't have a retort or a clear answer. How or why he turned into a vampire was still unknown to her, and she didn't bother with asking. Whatever or however it occurred would not erase the atrocities he's committed. The people he's killed wouldn't come back, they wouldn't be able to forgive him.
Perhaps her not knowing made it easier to find a way to remove him from this earth.
In her head, she envisioned him asking to have that power. That he begged the Dark Lord to make him unstoppable. But the way he was speaking now, it seemed to plague him. Dehumanizing and painting him in her head as a monster was difficult with the way he spoke of Astoria.
"I don't know," she mumbled, looking down, not meeting his gaze. A cold finger lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. His thumb pulled down at her bottom lip. She shivered at his touch, it felt so empty and cruel.
"Exactly. You have no idea who the fuck I am," he repeated himself. "If I don't kill your friends, he kills her. I'll drain the entire Order of blood if that keeps them safe."
She glared at him, a sick feeling in her stomach as he looked down at her. "And let all of Cornelius' work be wasted?"
Draco shook his head, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He rolled his shoulders and exhaled, making Hermione nervous. The explosiveness of his personality kept her on edge, and she closed her eyes to avoid his stare. Her thoughts were racing. It was as if she couldn't quiet her mind, too much information had been given to her.
The blood curse, Draco's vow to Cornelius, saying that he didn't care about winning the war.
"Stop thinking. Just stop." His voice was unnaturally calm as he cupped her face in his hands, massaging her temples gently, as if to quiet her mind. His thumbs brushed her cheeks, begging her thoughts to still. "Granger, stop."
Finally, her eyes opened to look at him once more. He was softer, more relaxed, no longer hiding himself. She knew, pieced it together in a matter of moments.
"You're not letting his work go to waste, are you?"
Draco was silent, his eyes lingering on her lips, still running his thumbs against her cheeks. The cold hands on her face, making her heart flutter.
"Why didn't you tell me that you're the informant?" she asked, holding his wrists, feeling his heartbeat slowly elevate.
"Does it change anything?"
Seeing Seamus' throat being torn from his body. Burying Susan Bones, who had been drained of blood. Finding Alicia Spinnet gutted and gasping her last breath. No information he could have given to the Order would ever make up for what he's done. The pain he's caused couldn't be repaid in a million lifetimes.
"No," she whispered. "I still want you gone."
He smiled at her, and stepped away. "I'm sure you'll figure out how to make that happen soon, mudblood. Now you have extra incentive, making me more easy to dispose of and helping Astoria."
For a split second, she did have a softer view of him. There was a moment where she thought she saw empathy in his eyes, but it washed away with just a singular word. A word that showed who he really was and how he saw her. Mudblood.
Hermione stood, crossing her arms and keeping her back straight. Attempting to make herself look bigger than she was, pushing her shoulders back when she spoke to him. "What are you trying to gain by aiding the Order? You obviously don't give a fuck about anything other than yourself and the Greengrass sisters. Immunity is out of the question for you, you likely won't even receive a trial when the Order wins."
"I don't give a shit what happens to me, I want my girls to be taken care of and Voldemort gone." He leaned against the wall next to the kitchen door. "I've made arrangements with Potter and Kingsley already to have my estate stay in Astoria's name and give leniency to a few others."
"Leniency? They're murderers, Malfoy."
"Last I checked, you're one too," he said, smirking at her.
Hermione's shoulders fell, almost curling into herself. Her hands rubbed slowly against her own arms, trying to feel some sort of comfort. Every death at her hand felt justified in some sort of way, even if it destroyed her mentally. She had to, she convinced herself. "I didn't want to, I had no choice."
"You think Teddy Nott wanted to kill? All he ever wanted to do was chase grindylows. Pansy Parkinson plays the hell out of the flute, planned to study music abroad. Blaise Zabini used to volunteer at St. Mungos, had aspirations to be a doctor. Terrance Higgs was in talks with Montrose Magpies to be their seeker before hell broke loose." He took a deep breath, forcing the air out through his teeth. "I could go on, Granger. You think they would have chosen this life over their dreams?"
This life. A life lived in fear. Fear of being tortured and hurt. Fear of death. Or worse yet, those occurrences happening to those they cared for. They killed because they were scared. They probably felt that same fear she did, and her heart sank into her stomach at the realization.
Draco's eyes were closed, his head tilted upwards and against the wall behind him. The black button up shirt still not fully fastened all the way, hanging slightly open to expose his defined chest, slightly spattered in blood. He stood still, almost as if he were a statue. A statue with harsh lines that made him look like an object to be feared. But in the stone, there were fractures.
He was scared too.
"What were your dreams?" she asked him softly.
"Dead and gone long before I was dead and gone," Draco replied.
Hermione closed the distance between them this time. It shocked her, how she felt drawn to him. The monster. The vampire. She watched closely as his chest rose and fell with each breath. Though he didn't have a single imperfection on his body, he looked so broken now. "You're not dead. You're here with me. So, tell me, what were your dreams?"
She reached her hand out to him, placing it over his heart again, feeling the slow beating. His hand went to hers, and he lingered there, feeling the warmth.
"Perhaps you're right, maybe I'm not dead. But I'm too far gone, Granger." Draco pulled her hand away from him. His shoulders tensed, and his eyes went cold again. No longer familiar. No longer human. "Don't get the wrong idea. What that bastard has taken away from me is incomprehensible to you. I'm doing this in spite of him, and for the Greengrasses. I couldn't give a fuck about you or anyone else in your cause."
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Draco placed a finger over her lips to stop her.
"I am not the monster you think I am." Suddenly, Hermione felt her body spin as her back was shoved against the wall in a blur. Draco's thumb had pressed into her jaw, his fingers curled around her neck, wrenching her head to the side. Cold lips pressed against her throat, right over her pulse. She felt them twitch on her skin, as if he was smiling as her heart began to race. "I'm much worse."
In an instant, he disappeared out of the kitchen. The smell of coffee still in the air, Hermione was left breathless in the empty room. Alone