CHAPTER THREE

Summary: Sent to Volterra in order to negotiate terms of an alliance to end the war, Hermione's life is turned upside down as she is brought into the world of the Volturi, better known as the Vampire Kings. There she is made a part of a new kind of family and a most trusted member of the guard, whether she likes it or not, and surprisingly, she does. Rated M for language, violence and sexual content.

Disclaimer: I do not own canon events and characters, they belong to J.K Rowling and Stepenie Myers. I am not making a profit from writing and posting this fanfic. As for the descriptions of appearances for the Twilight characters, all my research is based on the books and not the movies, but I may have changed a few things regarding Alec's height and age.

Page count: 7

Thursday 23rd April 1998

Alec could hear the hushed conversation of his Masters but didn't pay it any mind as he led the pretty witch through the corridors of the castle, her eyes carefully examining the priceless works of art on the stone walls.

"You are very brave in coming here," he commented.

Her heart skipped a beat but it wasn't in fear, he'd simply startled her when he'd broken the silence.

She looked up at him and were he not immortal and didn't require the need to breathe, he would believe he could've easily drowned in the chocolate orbs she locked on him.

"I did what was required of me," she responded softly. "I risk my life every day, coming to the lair of the Vampire Kings is surprisingly not the most dangerous situation I have been in."

"You do not fear us and you do not hate us. Why?" He tipped his head slightly in curiosity.

"I have faced things far more terrifying than your kind," she said gently, as if not wanting to offend him. "I don't have hatred for your kind, there is enough hatred and prejudice in the world and I don't need to add to it. I may hate certain individuals from a species or race, but I don't hate the entire species or race because of that one individual, it's not fair to the others who may be innocent. I know what it's like to be hated for something that can't be helped or controlled. The other side, they have a name for someone of my blood status. Mudblood."

He faltered in his steps at the hideous sounding word but she didn't notice as it was so minute a movement it had barely happened.

"And what is the meaning of this word?"

"It is rather self-explanatory. It means dirty blood; that I'm filth, an abomination that's nothing better than something on the bottom of their shoes. They believe that I'm weak, that I don't deserve my magic as I was born to non-magical parents. I've been called a Mudblood every day since I was twelve and it's meant to be an insult but I take it as a compliment. My bloodline isn't polluted by years of inbreeding, weak magic and madness and insanity. The irony of the situation is that my blood is technically purer than theirs, so the slur stopped offending me years ago. They despise me because I outshone their children in school; I had the best grades in my year, sometimes the entire school. And as much as I hate to admit it, I am more powerful than your average witch. My emotions affect my magic and I'm prone to magical outbursts that I don't mean to happen."

"What happens during these incidences?"

"It depends, I suppose, sometimes I cause things to explode, other times I set things on fire. I once shattered the windows in a classroom back at Hogwarts."

"Interesting," he murmured.

He hadn't met many magical folk, in fact, he could count on one hand how many he had met but despite his little knowledge on their kind, he knew that wasn't a normal occurrence for adult magical folk.

Her ivory skin was beginning to take a sickly hue and he could see the exhaustion beginning to set in as her steps slowed and her breath would hitch every so often. She was injured and had lost a lot of blood. He slowed down his steps to match hers. When she stumbled over the stone floor, he halted in his steps and unexpectedly swooped down, lifting her into his arms, carrying her bridal style as he continued walking, the incident taking only a matter of seconds. He didn't know what possessed him to act so uncharacteristically but he had done so. He didn't like seeing her hurt.

Why was that?

She made a sound of surprise, an amusing squeak as her free arm automatically went around his neck to balance herself -not that he would drop her- and her other hand remained pressed against her injured side, stemming the blood flow he presumed.

"Put me down, I don't care for being manhandled," she demanded, glaring at him. Had he not been dead for over a thousand years, her glare would've made him reconsider his actions.

"You're injured," he said simply, lifting his eyes to hers as she fumed.

"How fond of you is Aro?" She asked, smiling innocently.

"Why?" He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her response.

"I'm quite good at Fire Magic," she replied airily. The expression on her face was very telling of her seriousness as to what she was hinting.

He couldn't stop himself and a chuckle of amusement broke free. Her eyes glazed over for all but a moment as the rich, charming sound surrounded her but then she blinked and her eyes narrowed in suspicion and annoyance. So, she could break free of the daze his beauty and laughter put her under? Interesting.

"I'm being serious."

"I don't doubt that," he responded truthfully, his mouth twitching slightly.

"Put me down, I'm too heavy," she argued.

"You do realise I have enhanced strength, yes?" He questioned, his eyebrow arching.

But as she brought attention to it, he realised that she wasn't just light due to his strength, no, she was light in weight. His eyes carefully examined her face, seeing her sunken eyes with dark bruises beneath, indicating that she hadn't been sleeping. Her cheekbones were defined as were her collar bones, leading him to believe she hadn't been eating the correct portions of food either, if she'd been eating at all. How had he only just noticed this? He felt himself bristle in anger and he steeled his emotions.

"Obviously," she replied dryly before she sighed, appearing to give up on the argument.

"You are underweight," he commented offhandedly, wondering how she'd react to his words.

"Yes," she agreed, "That does tend to happen when on the run from murdering psychopaths for almost a year. We ran out of food provisions and we survived on edible plants and the odd rabbit or two. We took shifts patrolling the area of our camp during the night, so we haven't had the chance to sleep much this past year and when we did, it didn't go undisturbed," she answered, missing his furrowed brow when she darted her gaze to her injured side. "Bit of a stupid question but I don't suppose you have any medical supplies, do you?"

"Possibly," he nodded once, "I'd have to ask the receptionist, Selena."

Both of her eyebrows rise high on her forehead.

"She's human," he explained.

"You have a human receptionist? Does she know?"

"She suspects and she fears us but we pay her well enough that she stays and she keeps quiet... Here we are, the Rosalinda suite."

He set her on her feet and kept her tucked into his side so he could open the door before he lifted her off the ground more and entered the room, his mouth twitching at her huff of annoyance.

Her eyes widened in surprise; it was bloody massive! The large four-poster bed was bigger than any she'd seen and fitted with cream coloured flowing curtains tied back to the posts and the quilt covers were a dark green. The stone fireplace dominated the back wall and had yet to be lit but she would have that rectified soon enough, even if it was spring, they were in a castle and she knew from experience how drastically the temperature could drop. A cream coloured vanity sat off to the left with a padded stool, a matching chest of drawers and wardrobe in cream sat on the right wall, and a table and dark couch sat in the centre of the room. There was a door on the back wall beside the fireplace which she suspected led to a bathroom.

Alec gently deposited her on the edge of the bed and she begrudgingly thanked him as his lip twitched in amusement.

"For your safety, we ask that you do not leave this room until you are collected. There will be a guard positioned nearby for your protection."

"Why?" She inquired curiously.

"There are members of the coven that find it more difficult to resist the temptation of humans in the castle. There will be a guard posted outside to protect you."

"But you aren't tempted by my blood and I've been bleeding all over you for the last ten minutes," she replied.

He blinked as her wand once again appeared in her head and she pointed it at him before there was a flash of white light. He looked down at his cloak and robes to see them as clean as they were before her arrival. The bloodstains had vanished.

"Sorry about that," she apologised before turned her eyes elsewhere, lifting the hem of her t-shirt to reveal that almost half of her stomach was coated in blood. He felt anger settle in his stomach at the sight of an actual chunk being missing from her side. How wasn't she crying in pain?

"I am not tempted by your blood as I cannot smell it due to the masking spell you have over yourself."

"Actually," she said lightly, it being followed by a hiss as she continued to peel away the fabric from the rest of the wound. "That spell wore off long before you escorted me here."

He blinked slowly in surprise before taking a cautious inhale of his surroundings.

"I do not smell your blood," he replied, a confused frown marring his angelic features.

She shrugged slightly. "Well, I don't have a masking spell placed over me now." She lifted her wand and pointed it at her side. "Tergeo," she whispered, the blood surrounding her wound suddenly disappearing but not stopping the bleeding. The wound was larger than it first appeared to be, now being the approximate size of a tennis ball.

He blinked when a small bag suddenly appeared in her hand and his eyes widened when she stuck her arm inside and it disappeared down to her shoulder. She drew her arm out with several little bottles in her grasp and she uncorked them and downed the first two, gagging at the taste and then shivering.

"Pain Relief Potion and a Blood Replenishing Potion," she explained, looking back down at her wound before uncorking another of the little bottles and pouring a couple of drops onto the injury. She hissed in pain and smoke visibly formed around the wound.

"I'll have the medical supplies you require, as well as food brought to your rooms."

"Thank you," she replied, briefly offering him a kind smile before turning her focus back to her injuries.

With that, he nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. He stole a glance over his shoulder before turning and making his way down the corridor, happening across a member of the guard.

"Demetri," he greeted.

The vampire in question halted in his steps and turned to face him, waiting for him to approach.

"Alec, what can I do for you?" He bowed his head respectfully before looking to him.

Alec observed him suspiciously. Demetri was a valued member of the Guard; he had the ability to track any person or vampire his Masters wished him to. Unlike a traditional vampire, Demetri had olive-pale skin but the blood-red eyes. He stood at six-foot-three, making him one of the tallest of the coven, and he had black hair which was partially spiked in the front, something Alec had seen several teenagers doing in the past year.

"We have a guest; she is staying in the Rosalinda suite."

"A human? I thought I smelt something delicious," he grinned in jest.

Before Demetri could blink, Alec had slammed him into the stone wall, a crater forming beneath him and he had a hand wrapped around his throat as he stared up at him in fury.

Demetri was an excellent warrior in battle due to his millennia of training, he was a natural. Alec didn't have much battle experience as his ability worked well with him being on the sidelines, and he had yet to meet someone that was immune to him or his gift. The only reason Alec had been able to take Demetri by surprise, was exactly that, his actions had taken him by surprise as it was very uncharacteristic for Alec to show or feel anger. He was known for being quiet, calm and controlled.

"No harm is to come to our guest, by orders of Master Aro. If she is harmed, I will personally see to it that my sister has some fun with those responsible. Clear?"

"Crystal," he nodded stiffly.

Alec swiftly released his grip and stepped back, looking as though nothing had happened.

"Good, I wish for you to stand guard and ensure that no one but myself or the Masters enter her rooms. Selena will be along shortly with food and medical supplies for our guest. You are not to move until I or the Masters give you leave to do so, and only when someone has been sent to relieve you of your post."

"Of course, Alec," he nodded.

"Excellent," he replied, clasping his hands behind his back and then walking away, listening to the retreating footsteps of Demetri heading towards the Rosalinda suite.

~000~000~000~

Hermione whimpered and gripped the fabric of the quilt beneath her as the Essence of Murtlap began its magic on her wound. She'd already plastered herself in Burn Salve and she imagined she looked like some sort of human-ogre hybrid with the ugly green paste covering most of her visible skin.

She sighed as the Pain Relief Potion began to take effect, numbing some of the pain of her healing body and then she fell onto her back, looking up at the dark wooded ceiling of the comfortable bed she was sprawled upon.

How had she gotten there again?

Oh, that's right, it was bloody Kingsley's fault. She sighed, okay, it wasn't his fault and she knew it. They needed all the help they could get and the Volturi were a powerful vampire coven; they were the rulers of the vampire race.

There had been other possible Order members to send in the place of her but those that didn't outright refuse weren't exactly open-minded and they would go into the situation with hostility and suspicion and they couldn't afford the backlash.

She should've been with Harry and Ron, preparing for the coming Final Battle they were going to force. She shouldn't be in another country, negotiating terms with the Vampire Kings, but she knew she was the best option they had. She didn't have hatred or dislike for vampires as others did. She wasn't hot-headed and she had a logical mind. Despite the circumstances, she knew Kingsley had no choice but to send her, much to the dismay of Harry, Ron and the Weasleys.

It had taken her two days to travel to Volterra. She'd avoided Muggle travel simply because she didn't have the time, and if even if she was in the middle of a war and the outcome of the meeting would tip the scales either way, there wasn't a chance in hell she was getting on an aeroplane. Magical travel was a lot more comfortable for her but it also came with risks. It was very easy to pick up on her magical signature, particularly when she was leaving England. They were looking for her specifically and that made it difficult to avoid capture, which was why she'd arrived at Volterra injured and in the bloody and torn clothes she was wearing.

She sat up, wincing at the pain that shot through her body and she applied a healing salve over her wound and wasn't able to help it when she cried out at the pain, taking a shuddering breath.

Then there was a knock on the door.

~000~000~000~

Demetri journeyed to the Rosalinda suite and stood outside the door, his arms folded over his chest and his back to the door, taking up his position as guard for the human guest inside.

What was so special about her? Why had Alec, the usually calm and quiet twin, threatened him with his twisted sister, should the girl get hurt?

He could hear the sounds coming from inside the room, a hiss, a wince, a whimper, and with Alec mentioning medical supplies being brought to her, he estimated that she was injured. He sniffed at the air, trying to smell for blood but surprisingly, he couldn't smell anything but a scent of strawberries and vanilla. It was actually quite pleasant.

When he heard her crying out in pain, he decided it would be best if he inquired about her health. If she died on his watch, he could kiss his immortality goodbye and he quite liked his un-dead life.

He knocked on the door and when a soft voice called out with an intriguing British accent, he opened the door and stepped in-between the door frame.

Demetri had seen and had his fair share of women over the centuries but never a human. They never appealed to him in a sexual nature, just for feeding and survival. They didn't compare to the beauty most female vampires possessed or to their strength and stamina.

But in this case, he had no choice but to admit that this particular human was quite pretty with her wild mahogany curls tangled about her face in a halo, her ivory skin that was covered in fresh and dried blood and a strange green substance, her scent of strawberries and vanilla, and when she looked up at his entrance, her chocolate brown orbs that any man would be happy to get lost in.

Yes, she was pretty for a human.

She was pretty to him. And that was a very intriguing thing.