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Forever Knight	By : AdamantEve Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 15409 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Author�s
Note: Angst galore in this chapter. Even
the sex�s� well, you�ll see.

Many, many thanks to Lady Diamond, my beta-reader.

Standard
disclaimers apply.

Chapter rating: NC-17 (Vampy
entr�e, served.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Eleventh: Funeral

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry looked up from his seat on the couch and peeked
furtively at Hermione who was scribbling something on the coffee table. At the other end of the couch was Ron,
slouched over in his sleep, mouth hanging half open. The fireplace was alive and the flames
flickered to fight the shadows cast by candles lighting the room. In the last week, he had somehow managed to
shift his sleeping time to four in the morning, onwards. Sometimes he woke at ten, sometimes eleven,
and on one occasion, twelve. He had, in
essence, rearranged his internal clock.
It was something he had planned to do, anyway. He wanted to spend as much time with her as
he could, and he couldn�t very well do that if they were awake and asleep at
different times.

He tried to watch for changes in her expression. She was writing in her journal again and he
was terribly curious as to what she wrote in it. She took turns, writing in her journal and on
a separate, beaten up notebook for research.
He could tell she wasn�t making a copy of her research notes because he
observed that she wrote in her journal after bouts of silence and inactivity,
which she thought no one noticed.

But Harry noticed.
He was noticing all he could of her lately. Last week, he had found Hermione in tears on
her bedroom floor. He had held her and
she cried against him for quite a long time.
It was as if the loss of her parents had finally come crashing down on
her, and the impact of it shattered the walls she had built around it. After she had settled down and cried
everything she could, she spoke some about it, telling him that in the last
three years, her parents had felt very much separated from her, that she had
inadvertently pulled away from them because she was so caught up in her
wizarding world. The gap between her and
her muggle parents widened continuously, and looking back, she wasn�t even sure
if the chasm could have been bridged.
She was going to try, anyway; on her birthday. But they had died, and now she couldn�t even
attend their wake.

He had listened, and he really didn�t know what to say,
but it didn�t look like she needed him to say anything. When she was done talking, they were silent
for a long time until finally, she sat up, wiped her tears away and apologized
for ruining his shirt. That was the last
time she spoke of it. In fact, that was
the last time she spoke about any of her feelings at all. She hadn�t told him all that much
afterwards.

She told him she loved him, constantly, and she said so
with such quiet emotion that her words always pulled him in, but these last
couple of days, he was beginning to think that she said it to distract him from
asking the more significant questions.
Of course, he knew she meant it when she said she loved him, but it
bothered him that she saw it as an opportunity for a diversion. She didn�t want to talk, period. That probably
meant she needed to.

He�d told her off-handedly, once or twice, that sometimes,
people needed to talk to someone to come to grips with certain things. She had understood exactly what he was
telling her, because both times, she said, �Oh, yes. That�s what Cicero tells me all the time, so that�s
why I think a therapist is so important.�

It didn�t escape him that she had evaded the topic
altogether. Maybe she hadn�t been lying,
but he knew she wasn�t talking to Cicero at all, at least not about the
things eating away at her. He wished she
would say something. He couldn�t bear
the thought of having her breaking from the inside while trying to put a brave
front on the outside. Listening to her
cry the way she did in her bedroom was like listening to her soul shattering. At that point, all he could do was hold
her.

Every night, she would rise from sleep and leave the
house, presumably to go to Cicero�s office and perhaps even to
feed. He had managed to learn not to be so bothered by this. It was necessary, after all. Then she would return, acting mostly like her
old self and showing him, and even Ron, her usual affection. Just a few hours before the coming of dawn,
she had, on two occasions, popped open a tiny vial and consumed its
contents. When he asked her about it,
she readily explained that it was a synthesized form of blood, to sate her
hunger when it became unbearable. She
said it wasn�t nutritious at all, and that it�s only purpose was to curb her
vampire instincts until she could feed again.
She also explained that Cicero told her to use it sparingly so
that she wouldn�t grow dependent on it. Apparently, she was training herself to
need blood less frequently.

In the two times she drank the synthetic blood, they�d
made love after. The sex was amazing, like she had been bottling up
all her sexual frustrations and poured them into those two occasions they finally shagged. He had to wonder what role the potion played
in all of it, because other than those two times, she managed to resist going
all the way with him, which understandably drove him crazy. She�d respond to the kisses, and the teasing
touches, but he could tell she put a stop to it when the kisses got a little
too intense, or when the touching began to get more intimate. It was almost as if she wanted it as much as
he did before she remembered she had to stop it. He had thought about asking her what was
going on, but he wasn�t very sure how.
There were certainly other more important things to talk about, but he
had contemplated broaching the subject as a way to make her open up to other
matters. After all, they were most
honest about their feelings when they made love. Maybe talking about sex would make her less
guarded.

�Hermione,� he said softly, hoping not to wake Ron.

Poor Ron.
He hadn�t really ventured to adjust his body clock, so he always ended up
falling asleep in the library. Harry
usually nudged him awake so Ron could transfer to his bedroom, but the two
instances where Harry and Hermione snuck out to do their business,
Ron had been left by himself.

She looked up from her scribbling, smiling that
closed-lipped smile of hers. �Worried
about your apparition test tomorrow?
You�ll be fine.�

He had almost forgotten about it. He wasn�t worried about it at all and she
knew it. It was just like her to make
such a clever diversion.

He went to her, taking her hand. �Nope. Not worried
at all. This is something else.�

�Something else!
Sounds mysterious.�

He smirked. �I want
to show you something.�

She seemed reluctant to leave her work. �What is it?�

�You�ll see. It�s no big surprise, mind you, but I�ve been wanting to show it to you forever and I couldn�t bring
it up in front of Ron.�

She grinned mischievously.
�Is it kinky?�

�Well� yeah, actually.�

She seemed mildly surprised. She obviously hadn�t expected him to say yes.

He chuckled. �I
promise you, it�s nothing wonky. I dare
say you�ll like it.�

�Oh, well, if you say
so�� She winked, grinning.

Laughing softly, he pulled her to her feet and she let
him, both of them snatching glances at Ron to see if they had disturbed
him.

He led them to his room and he pulled the book from
beneath his nightstand. He sank to the
floor, leaning his back against the bed.
He chose that spot deliberately, hoping to convey that he wasn�t just
making excuses to get her to shag. For
one thing, he never needed an excuse, but right now, his primary objective was
talking.

She seemed relieved, anyway, that he had sat on the floor
instead of the bed. He could see it by
the look on her face. She sat beside
him, leaning her head on his shoulder as he showed her the book.

She read the cover and giggled softly. �Is this a sex book?�

He chuckled. �Among
other things, but it�s mostly about having a relationship with a vampire. It tells me what I ought to expect about you,
how to deal with certain situations and what things please you. I looked up your sensitivity to scents and I
found out��

�Oh, you did?� Her cheeks had turned as pink as her
vampire self allowed.

He grinned. �No
need to be embarrassed. It�s not like
you could help it.� He assumed that she had asked Cicero about it, and it was just the
kind of thing Hermione might find mortifying.
Each time he had slept in her bedroom, he had essentially swum in a pool
of her scent. It had gotten into his
hair and every pore of his body. Bathing
could never really remove the smell entirely, and Hermione�s sense of smell was
particularly attuned to it. The fact
that she could smell herself on him marked him
as hers. For a vampire, that was terribly
enticing, because that meant having a certain degree of power over someone, and
power, to a vampire, was a kind of aphrodisiac.

�Harry, I want you to know that I don�t think you�re my
property or anything like that��

He laughed easily.
�That�s reassuring.�

�It�s just that it�s instinct��

�Does it make you want me?�

Her cheeks turned redder than ever, but she replied. �Yes. So very much.�

�No complaints here, then.�

She smiled a bit and tentatively flipped through the
pages.

They read out passages from the book, alternating between laughing
about it and talking about its more serious points. He was right about gauging her interest on
the matter. For Hermione Granger, so
long as there was a book, then that was half the issue won.

�It�s true about the leather, you know,� she said a bit
shamefacedly. �There�s� something about
wearing it that�s just empowering. It�s
because it was something alive, Harry.
It�s awful, but it�s true, and I can�t help myself, being this way. I don�t even want to know how I feel about
fur. I never ever wanted to wear fur.
It�s barbaric and they kill animals for it, but now� I don�t know. I�m afraid I�d love fur.�

Harry couldn�t help the tiny grin that crept from his lips
at her politics. �There are worse things
than liking fur, you know.�

She tore her gaze from him, playing with the corners of
the book. �I know��

He noticed that she was using that tone again, the one
that had her thinking a million other things in spite of saying so little. �Hermione��

�I don�t want to talk about it.�

At least she was acknowledging the fact that there was something to talk about, this
time.

�You can�t shut me out,� he said, gently. �And you can�t shut yourself in, either.�

�I talk to Cicero about it.�

�Look me in the eye and tell me you�re talking about all of it with Cicero.�

She shook her head, keeping he gaze lowered. �Cicero� has a different perspective of
things.�

Harry frowned. What the hell does that mean? �Hermione, please let me in. I�ll just listen. I won�t even say anything��

�You can�t�you can�t possibly understand!�

That hurt. He cared
for her. Wasn�t that enough? �How can you say that?�

�You�re joking, aren�t you? Isn�t it obvious enough?�

He was beginning to feel frustrated. �What
are you talking about?�

She was beginning to look frustrated, too. �You�re human,
Harry. I�m a vampire. We�re just DIFFERENT!�

He was beginning to wonder how their conversation had gone
from something very pleasant to her raising her voice to him. However it happened, he felt like she had
pushed him viciously away, slammed the door in his face and bolted it from the
inside. He took a deep breath to calm
his tautened nerves. �The problem with
you, Hermione, is that you think I�ve blinded myself to what happened to
you. I know you�re a vampire, alright?
Every single thing I do
reminds me of it, whether I�m with you or not.
In fact, when I�m not with you, I remember it even more. When you�re not sitting at the dinner table
with us, I remember that you don�t eat the same as we do anymore. When I go to the library, I�m reminded of how
I have to read about vampires so that I don�t royally screw things up by being
ignorant of your kind. When I wake up during the day, the first thing
I think is that you�re asleep in the dungeon; in your coffin, and that I really want to wake up with you but I can�t. So don�t tell me I don�t understand how
different we are.�

Her gaze hardened. �I�m sorry you�ve had to put up with
me, then.�

�Gods, no.
You won�t go that direction. I won�t let you. You know that�s not what I meant. You�re just tying to distract from the real
issue.� He was starting to get
angry. �Stop it. I just want you to talk to me and not shut me
out. How are we supposed to cope
together if you don�t tell me anything?�

�Harry, you don�t want
to hear it. You just don�t.�

�And how do you know that?
That�s what the Order used to think of poor little Harry Potter��

�Don�t pull your Order bullcrap on me, Harry,� she
hissed.

�You�re absolutely right!
This is about you and me, and
it�s not me that needs reminding of that.�

�D�you think
this is just about you being all nice and informed about what I am for our relationship to work out? I hate to break it to you, but that�s not all
there is to it. You can read all the
books about human-vampire relationships and you�ll know shite about what really matters.
You�ll only really know when everything is crashing and burning all
around you and you�and you�� Her brows
pinched. It looked like she was going to
cry.

He hardened his heart.
�What? And I
what, Hermione?�

�And you think, �I
can�t do this anymore��.�

The heartbreak in her voice, the sheer admission of this
profound insecurity, was enough to make his heart wrench. Now they
were getting somewhere, and he had a feeling this was only the beginning; that
he was only scratching the surface of her issues. �I won�t ever think that��

�Then you won�t ever truly understand how being with a
vampire could be.�

He frowned. �That�s
just not fair. For me to make you
believe that I understand, I have to want out of this relationship?�

She didn�t reply.
The silence was painful.

Harry never realized how excruciating this talk would be,
but he knew Hermione wouldn�t be holding back if it was something shallow and
petty. Her issues always ran deep,
hardly ever what they appeared to be on the surface. In first year, when they
found her crying in the girl�s bathroom at Hogwarts, it hadn�t been because Ron
called her a nightmare, it was because all her life, friends never came easy,
because she was too smart, or too bossy, or too bushy haired, or her teeth were
too big. When she walked out on Madame
Trelawney�s class, it wasn�t just because she didn�t believe in divination, it
was because Trelawney, a crackpot and pseudo-seer, had the gall to tell her she
wasn�t good at something that had to
do with school, and that was unforgivable, because Hermione took great pride in
her academic powers. When she said yes
to Viktor Krum to be his date at the Yule Ball, it wasn�t because she was
making anyone jealous, but because in Viktor, she saw someone who respected
her, and liked her for who she was. When
she acted up last school year, it wasn�t because of Ron or hormones, but
because she felt unneeded, unwanted and useless. There were other instances where everyone had
misjudged the depth of her feelings.
Even he, the one who had always known her best, couldn�t claim to fathom
those depths completely.

Now they�ve come to this, and he could only imagine what
was running underneath the surface.

�I already told you,� he said with quiet resolve. �I�m not going to give up on us.�

�I know you won�t.�

He couldn�t tell if she was happy about it or something
else, and that was infuriating enough.
His patience finally ran out.
�What the hell do you want from me, Hermione?�

Her expressionless mask crumbled, brows pinching as she
took his hand. �Nothing, Harry. Absolutely nothing. In fact, I�m constantly afraid that I�m
asking too much from you.�

He sighed. He
pulled her into his arms and she sank against him. �You�re not.
You�re not��

Their discussion ended there, and while Harry knew the
issue was far from closed, he dared not force it any further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following night, Hermione,
along with Harry, Ron, Remus, McGonagall and Tonks, portkeyed to the
crematorium.

They were a grim group, all dressed in black. Tonks even darkened her hair, though there
were unmistakable streaks of blue.

Hermione saw the open coffins of her parents from
afar. Shiny brown caskets set atop what
looked like gurneys. The wood gleamed
amber against the orange flickering fire of the incinerator. She wasn�t all
that surprised that the sight of the coffins didn�t affect her as much as she
expected, after all, she�d been sleeping in a coffin of her own for the past
week.

Her black shin-high leather boots made pert sounds against
the marble and she wished she didn�t have to wear them, but they were the only
shoes she had handy that didn�t look ridiculous with her black, dressy
outfit. It was a dress her mother had
bought for her to wear to a distant relative�s funeral. The dress looked smart, young and,
expensive. Her mother had even bought
her one of those black mesh veils and dainty black shoes to go with it. What happened to those shoes, she hadn�t the
faintest clue, but she remembered thinking when she first saw the entire
ensemble that she wouldn�t be caught dead in the grim haute couture. The irony of it all was amazing.

This was the first time she had worn it, of course. She had managed to worm her way out of the other funeral, but now here she was,
at a funeral she was ten times more reluctant to go to.

Surrounding her were wizards and witches dressed in
mourning robes, all except Harry, who had opted to wear a muggle suit. Somehow, she appreciated the gesture. Her parents were muggle. She was
dressed like a muggle. He was showing
his support for her by dressing thus.

The vicar met them while the crematorium technician stood
by the coffins, stoically watching the proceedings.

Her eyes roved to the remains of her parents. They were both perfectly made up, like wax
statues. She half-expected to see
ghastly gashes across their throats, but there was none. The wounds had been concealed.

There were flowers stuck to the lining of the lid of both
her parents� coffins, arranged rather well with springs of grapevine,
intertwined tulips, irises, daffodils, lilies and a single alstroemeria.

After the vicar offered his condolences to Hermione, never
noticing how strange and unearthly the face behind the veil was, he began the
prayers.

Hermione held a crumpled handkerchief in her hand but she
wasn�t using it. Her grief was great but
she fought to hold her tears at bay.

She leaned against Harry and he put his arm around her,
holding her tight.

When the vicar raised his bottle of holy water to sprinkle
the caskets with, he found it mysteriously dry.
There wasn�t a drop of holy water left inside.

Hermione knew any
one of her companions could have been the culprit. She was grateful to them for their care and
consideration.

It was interesting how Catholic and Christian religious
items had the power to repel vampires.
The common belief was that vampires were agents of the devil, therefore
the agents of God could fashion holy weapons to fight them. This was, of course, an idea propagated by
one of the most powerful wizards of the time.

Approximately two thousand years ago, a fisherman named
Symeon was born into the Jewish faith. In his later years, he would meet two
men who would forever change the course of history. One was a seer, a prophet, named
Jehoshua. The other was Julius, a very
ambitious wizard.

Symeon was dubbed by Jehoshua, his spiritual leader, as
Cephas; Kipha in Aramaic meaning
�rock�, and translated into Latin as Petrus.
The man whom the English would come to call Peter was said to have
betrayed Jehoshua three times before the poor prophet was nailed to a cross. Wrought with guilt and driven by duty, Peter
preached the word of Jehoshua and Jehoshua�s God. Shortly after Peter took on Jehoshua�s
mission, he met Julius, a strange man who possessed strange powers that seemed
�miraculous�. Julius, in muggle history,
remained quite anonymous, but wizard history suggests that it was Julius who
persuaded Peter to take his teachings abroad.
Peter then traveled all over the world, presumably to evangelize, but
wizard history whispered about an alchemical spell Julius intended to create,
the ingredients of which could only be found in the most exotic places on
Earth. The ambitious wizard wanted to
contain the power of patronuses in objects
so that he could convert �heathen� wizards to Peter�s religion. It was simply, for Julius, a quest for power,
and his spell would make excellent material for propaganda. Evidently, Julius was quite willing to point
to vampires and say, �They�re dark creatures; evil, therefore you must protect
yourselves against them. Join our faith,
and you shall be protected.� It was in Rome, Peter�s place of death, where
Julius completed the spell, and impressively enough, it was so powerful that it
continued long after Julius�s bones had turned to ash and long after wizards
were gone from the �holy� service. Whatever
artifact he used to contain the spell and work the charm, it was brilliant
enough to enchant the millions of holy items connected to the church Peter
built, affecting even the churches which separated themselves from the
Catholic-made institution�known as the Vatican�to form Episcopalians,
Anglicans, Baptists and most of those who acknowledge the existence of
Jehoshua, or Jesus.

Julius had created a spell so powerful and effective that
even muggles could manipulate it
through certain elaborate rituals performed by ordained priests, and since no
one knew its source, it wasn�t likely to go away anytime soon.

Hermione was snapped out of her musings when the vicar
told her to pay her last respects. She
nodded and looked to Harry.

Harry then placed the rosaries himself, one for her mother
and one for her father, after which the caskets were closed.

The technician rolled the coffins in place one at a
time. Tonks and McGonagall stood by
Hermione as Harry, Ron and Remus helped haul the coffins over from their
gurneys to the conveyor belts.

Her father was rolled into the first incinerator and only
then did she feel the sharp stab of grief.
Her eyes were dry, but only because she had cried all she could in the
privacy of her chambers. She could spill
no more tears. McGonagall held her
firmly by the shoulders as the boys hauled Hermione�s mother to the second
incinerator. It was Tonks who broke down then, and Hermione could only suppose that
Tonks, all this time, had felt responsible to a certain degree for her parents�
death. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been Tonks�s charge, and she had been at Bill and Fleur�s
wedding when the massacre happened.
Hermione would never blame Tonks for it, so the morphmagus would only
have her own guilt to contend with.

Hermione stared into the fires that consumed her parents
and images of things undone; echoes of words unsaid filled her with unspeakable
sadness. Her lids lowered, squeezing
what little tears she had left from her eyes.
A few drops. That was all she had
left to give.

The Headmistress squeezed her shoulder. It was a comfort to know that the
headmistress was being strong.

McGonagall�s dignified strength was soon replaced by
Harry�s reassuring presence. His
shoulder was welcome solace when the caskets rolled through the flames.

The incinerator doors were slammed shut and the vicar
retired.

The technician then explained that the cremation would
take seven to nine hours.

Nodding, Hermione softly told Harry that she was ready to
go now.

Her last respects given, the entire party went back to
their portkey point where they were transported back to Tuffnell Park.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione was glad that McGonagall stayed a bit at Grimmauld Place and that the headmistress had
done so primarily to chat with her, Harry and Ron. She had missed the headmistress�s no-nonsense
demeanor and tried not to laugh at Harry and Ron who were squirming in their
seats. This was, perhaps, the first time
they had ever sat to tea with Headmistress McGonagall in a social setting where
there were no other �elders� to cushion the situation. Tonks and Remus had hurriedly left for the
Ministry on some urgent business so she, Harry and Ron really were left with
the task of having tea with McGonagall.
Hermione didn�t mind in the least, really, and perhaps there was
entertainment to be had at watching her boys trying.

The old witch�s hat was deposited at the coat stand of the
drawing room door and McGonagall�s silvery hair was pulled severely back to
create the dignified French twist holding it.
Her sharp, angular face was just ever so slightly softened and while her
lips remained stiff and impenetrable, there was a hint of it turning up at the
corners every so often.

�Quite a lot of people attended your parents� wake, Miss
Granger,� McGonagall said in her quaint English-Scottish burr. She sat straight-backed, daintily sipping her
tea with her usual dignified air. �They
were well-loved, and thank goodness for magic, else the administrator and I
would have spent all two nights trying to explain where you were to too many
people. Still, there were one or two
muggles who proved resistant to the magic.
A muggle friend of yours asked about you.�

�I have a muggle friend?� Hermione asked, astonished.

The headmistress�s eyes seemed vastly amused. �Well, of course you do. You�re not exactly a social deviant, you
know.�

�That depends on your definition of social deviant,
Headmistress.�

McGonagall pretended she didn�t hear that last crack. �Your next door neighbor;
the boy. He was wondering where
you were because, he said, that he was going to marry you some day.�

Harry�s eyebrow arched.
Ron laughed nervously.

�That�s Stewie,� she said rather blandly. �He�s twelve.
I babysat for his little sister a couple of times before I went to pick
up Harry at Privet Drive.
He proposed to me both times with a Krispie Flakes decoder ring. I said no.
We were both too young.�

McGonagall chuckled ever so slightly. That was a rare thing.

�What is it about babysitters?� Ron mused out loud. �I remember Bill and Charlie saying that they
used to be so gone on theirs.�

�The closest I came to a baby sitter was Arabella Figg
next door, so I wouldn�t know anything about baby sitter allure,� Harry
said.

Hermione frowned. �Humph!
An old lady with a house full of cats. Can you say health hazard? I can�t believe the Dursleys just left you
there with her and I still think they ought to be arrested for how they treated
you.�

�Could�ve been worse.
They could have asked Aunt Marge to babysit.�

�Ah,� said Ron wistfully.
�I wish I had been there when you blew her up, mate.�

McGonagall fixed them with a stern glare. �That was no laughing matter, Weasley. Marge Dursley could have been seriously
hurt.� She sipped her tea.

Ron and Harry looked properly chastised. Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from
laughing.

�There�s another matter I wish to discuss regarding your
supposed death, Miss Granger,� McGonagall continued. �They held a memorial service for you at
Hogwarts, did you know?�

Hermione blinked in surprise. �They did?�

�Well, it�s only proper, innit?� Harry said. �Everyone worth a lick respects you.�

Hermione was about to say something when Ron cut in.

�Who attended?�

�Almost everyone from second to
seventh year. Even a handful of Slytherins attended. Miss Granger�s dorm mates were�shall we
say�the head mourners.�

Hermione�s eyes widened.
�Parvati and Lav-Lav�er�Lavender mourned
for me?�

Ron shot her a wry sneer, which she ignored.

McGonagall nodded as she took some biscotti from its
serving plate. �Like banshees. Luna Lovegood was certain they were afflicted
with some strange, non-existent creature.
She kept saying everyone was crying for nothing because you weren�t dead. I swear to the Fates that I was never so glad
of her strangeness else someone might have actually believed her. Naturally, Horace sang your praises since he
instigated the entire thing.�

�Professor Slughorn?
But��

�You were in his Slug Club, weren�t you?�

�Yes, but��

�Well, then there you have it. I had to attend, of course. And it took everything I had not to stop the
ceremonies and tell them that you were very much up and about, but considering
the uncertainty of what information is classified and what isn�t, I thought it
more prudent to say nothing. I must
admit though� it was very difficult watching grown men like Filius and Hagrid
weeping for your loss. And don�t imagine
they were the only ones. Your Gryffindor
friends, girls and boys alike, cried unabashed.�

Hermione was touched.

Ron looked quite shocked.
�Are you telling me Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas cried?�

McGonagall nodded pertly.
�After a fashion.�

�Oh, dear,� Hermione whispered. She took Harry�s hand and looked at him. �I feel terrible. And Hagrid!
Can�t we tell Hagrid, at least? The teachers?�

Harry smiled sympathetically. �I think that�s something that�ll be decided
in the next Order meeting. Until then,
we have to leave things as they are.�

�He is correct,� McGonagall said. �The news of you and your family�s deaths
have spread far and wide; beyond England.
We do not yet know what impact it has caused on the Wizarding World.�

Hermione frowned. �Beyond England?�

�Yes, like in Bulgaria.�

�Oh. OH! Oh no, Viktor!�

Harry frowned. �Oh no, indeed.�

Hermione shot him a sidelong glance. �Oh, hush, Harry.�

�He came to Hogwarts,� said the headmistress, waving her
wand at her cup of tea to reheat it. �He
asked if he could at least pay his last respects to your remains and not to the
picture they set up for the memorial service.
I thought it was decent of him to have come all the way from Bulgaria to make that very request.�

Hermione had an embarrassing urge to ask if the picture
was any good. Sometimes, her vampiric
vanity came to her at the most unexpected times. She had to bite her tongue to keep from
exposing her suddenly narcissistic self.

Harry was grumbling something unsavory under his
breath. So was Ron.

Hermione nudged them both with her elbows. �What did you
say to him?�

�I said I was sorry, and that I cannot help him obtain
permission to view you. My phrasing was
rather awkward, I admit. I didn�t want
to lie to him, but in this instance, it was fortunate that he couldn�t speak
English very well.�

�He�s no Shakespeare, that�s for sure,� muttered
Harry.

She had to nudge him again and shoot him a glare.

�Krum was very upset,� McGonagall continued. �And he had had many questions. What happened� who was responsible for your
death� what steps were being taken to find out who killed you� for someone who
could hardly pronounce your name, he was ready to launch an all-out one-man
investigation.�

Hermione shrugged helplessly. �Well, he does have a tendency to be rather
intense��

�One of his more pleasant qualities,� said Harry dryly.

These boys are so
impossible sometimes. She squeezed Harry�s knee
reassuringly.

McGonagall�s eyebrow arched. It was entirely possible that the
headmistress knew nothing about her relationship with Harry. McGonagall had never been one to inquire, or
even care, about who was dating who in her school. The personal lives of her students only
became her concern when they were caught doing God-Knew-What in the broom
closet, and only because it meant she had to issue them detention, or deduct
house points. Still, Hermione had a
feeling McGonagall took special interest in all aspects of her life. If McGonagall�s last admittance letter to
Harry was any indication, the good headmistress was ready to do a lot for
Hermione�s academic advancement. Now
that Hermione wasn�t going back to school, McGonagall could do very little, but
Hermione couldn�t shake the feeling that McGonagall was still watching.

�Denying Krum answers was not something I recall fondly,�
said McGonagall. �I do not think he
doubts you are dead, but I think he did suspect that I was hiding
something. Those eyes of his can be
dreadfully penetrating.�

Instead of agreeing with it directly, Hermione replied as
negatively as she could. �Unnerving, really.
Not comfortable at all.�

Harry shot her a wry grimace.

He saw right through
that. Oh, well�, she thought. Honestly, she never knew Harry was the
jealous type until they started being together.
Even when they were �unofficial� he was already showing tendencies, but it
had never occurred to her that Harry was the type before that. She supposed it made some kind of sense. Harry had so little, growing up. It was only natural that he would be so
protective, and in turns possessive, of those closest to him.

Still, she honestly believed that he shouldn�t get so
worked up about Krum. Harry should know
what her relationship with Krum was all about.
She spoke of it in detail during their fourth year and she was never
afraid to tell Harry about a lot of Krum�s letters after that. He shouldn�t be insecure about Krum now. After all, Krum thought she was dead. As McGonagall said, it was decent of Krum to
want to pay his last respects.

�Seeker eyes, that,� said Ron, unable to help himself from
bringing up Quidditch.

Harry glared at him with his own �seeker eyes�.

Ron shut up.

Perhaps seeing that Harry wasn�t quite enjoying the
conversation, McGonagall moved on to more mundane matters, such as who she
selected as the new Head Girl and Head Boy, her trials and tribulations finding
a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher and the sad possibility that she
may give up her Transfigurations class eventually.

Hermione found McGonagall�s hints about hiring her as a transfigurations professor in
some future highly unnerving. How nice.
McGonagall should just go on ahead and rehire Lupin for D.A.D.A.,
too. Give Hogwarts the old Monster High
feel: A vampire, a werewolf, centaurs, half-giants, and a goblin in a pear
tree.

McGonagall stayed a while longer until she declared she
had to be going back to Hogwarts.

As they saw her to the receiving room, she turned and set
her gaze upon Harry.

�Headmaster Dumbledore�s portrait is up, in case you were
wondering,� she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
�It�s not awake yet, but I would be glad to inform you the moment it
does. You might have some questions for
it that it could answer.�

Hermione saw Harry swallowing. She hadn�t quite talked to him about
Dumbledore. The thing about Harry was that
it wasn�t exactly that he didn�t want to talk about something, just that he was
so good at putting things out of his mind that he somehow managed to forget
bringing it up. She figured it was some
defense mechanism he had developed growing up the way he did with the
Dursleys. It wasn�t healthy, but
considering she wasn�t very forthcoming with him of late, she wasn�t going to
force him to talk about anything.

Harry gave the headmistress a cautious nod. �Thank you, Headmistress. I would appreciate that very much.�

McGonagall seemed pleased.
With that, she left Grimmauld Place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione froze on her seat at the kitchen table the moment
she heard the cracks come from the receiving room. They sounded like Remus and Tonks, but she sensed two other mortals with them, and
the aura on both wasn�t familiar.

She looked at Harry and Ron and wondered if they had the
slightest clue that something was unusual.
Ron showed no hint of caring. He
was reading a quidditch article from the Daily
Prophet while he ate a late dinner (his second) of sandwich and chocolates,
funeral finery loosened to make him more comfortable.

None of them had changed out of their funeral
clothes. After McGonagall left, they had
gone straight to the kitchen so Ron could fix himself something to eat. Harry had summoned books from his bedroom,
one for him and the other for her. They all sat at the kitchen table in
companionable silence.

Harry showed more concern for the sound of new arrivals,
looking up briefly from his Vampires For Dummies book, but he went back to reading almost
immediately, idly caressing her lap as he did so.

�Tonks and Remus brought two more with them,� she said,
rising from her seat.

That caught their attention immediately.

They followed her out of the kitchen.

�How do you know?� asked Harry.

�I sensed it.�

Ron�s eyebrow arched.
�That your new vampire power?�

�No. All vampires
have it.�

Hermione led the way to the receiving hall and was stopped
dead on her tracks the moment she caught sight of their new houseguests. Harry and Ron seemed rooted to their places
as well.

Dobby stood just a few paces away from Remus looking
positively ecstatic at seeing her, but that wasn�t what caught Hermione. There, standing between Remus and Tonks, was
Draco Malfoy, shackled hand and foot with charmed manacles. The blonde and grey eyed Slytherin of fame
looked haggard around the eyes and cheeks, but his overall appearance was the
picture of composure. He hadn�t a hair
out of place, his fingernails were as perfectly manicured as before and his
clothes were still impeccable.

Draco was staring at her with abject disbelief.

�Oh!� Dobby cried. �Hermione Granger, ma�am!
Dobby is glad to see you alive!
And Harry Potter, sir��

�Shite�� breathed Draco, cutting off the elf�s
platitudes. �I heard you were dead,
mudblood, but not this dead.�

She glared at him. Some things never change. She bared her fangs just the tiniest bit.

Draco actually stepped back and the scent of his fear
washed over her like a powerful tide.
Something inside her ignited and for the first time, she felt real
vampire strength rushing through her veins.
It was intoxicating.

Before she could control herself, she had her grip on the
collar of his crisp designer shirt and had him pressed against the wall,
completely oblivious to the cries of surprise from everyone around her and
Dobby�s whimpering. It had taken her a split heartbeat to cross the hall,
almost like she had apparated. The
effect was terrifying.

Draco�s fear spiked even more and Hermione eyed him
ferociously.

He struggled to push her away. �G-Get off��

�Call me a mudblood again,�� she
whispered in his ear. �� and I�ll kill
you. Maybe I should test this theory of
yours that your blood is better than everyone else�s�� Her fangs elongated.

His eyes widened in terror, unable to move from the press
of her strength.

She grinned with feral delight. �Try not to be so afraid, Draco. I can smell
your fear, and it�s making you
smell particularly yum��

�Hermione!�
Harry�s voice cut through her senses, and it sent her crashing back to
sobriety.

Without waiting for her mind to process things, she pushed
herself away from Draco, inadvertently slamming him back against the wall.

Draco gave a cry of pain as he crumpled to the floor, hand
behind his head.

Walk away,
Hermione. Walk. Away.

Turning, Hermione stormed out of the room and down the
dark passageways of the house.

Hide. I have to hide. That was the first whisper of her shame as she slipped
into a room filled with maps and scrolls.
She tucked herself into the farthest concealable corner and closed her
eyes, holding her head between her hands.

�Oh God�� she whispered. Oh my
God�

She had been so ready
to kill him. She was actually going
to sink her teeth into his neck and drain him dry. She had meant her threat, and it had been a high like no other, but now, freed
from it, she felt light headed.

Another piece of her humanity had died that night. Heck, she was dressed for the occasion.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she bent over, back to
the wall; hoping the blood-rush to her head would settle her.

She wished she could breathe, so she could go through the
motions of calming herself. She tried it
anyway, and even without breath, it helped some.

She didn�t know how long she stayed that way. It could have been hours and she wouldn�t
have noticed. Her mind was still trying
to wrap itself around the fact that she had wanted to take a human life. Sure, it was Draco Malfoy, but his bigotry
needed curing. He didn�t deserve to die
for it.

Malfoy always brought out the worse in you, Granger.

There was a sound from beyond the darkness and her gaze
darted to catch it. The door had been
opened and closed, disturbing her sanctuary.

It was Harry, breaking through the pale-moon
darkness. He leaned against the wall
beside her, meeting her gaze.

�How did you find me?� she asked. It was an unnecessary question, but she was
feeling one part relieved to have been found and the other part wanting to be
left alone. The question didn�t make her
commit to either.

�I said it once and I�ll say it again. That finder you gave me is the best.�

She turned away, ashamed of what she had almost done. �I wanted to kill him.�

He chuckled softly.
�Join the club.�

It didn�t make her laugh.
�It�s no laughing matter. I meant
it when I said it. I would have done it right there.�

Harry�s smile dwindled, but instead of seeming horrified
of her, his eyes conveyed compassion.
�But you didn�t. That means
everything.�

She stared at her feet.
�But what about next time? What if you aren�t there to snap me out of
it?�

�You don�t need me to snap out of it. Your will is strong enough.�

�I felt it Harry; the vampire strength. It�s like a switch inside me, see. I don�t have super-human strength and speed
all the time, but when I want it, all I have to do is will it and it turns on
like a machine. It wasn�t an accident
when I turned it on for Malfoy. I wanted it. Harry��

She felt the pressure of his steady grip on her
shoulder.

�You�re still coming to terms with a lot of things about
yourself,� he said gently. �You can�t
expect yourself to be adjusted in a span of two weeks. Give yourself more time.�

�More time�� she whispered miserable. �All that�s happening is that I�m turning
into this monster more and more each day.�H

His jaw hardened.
�You�re not a monster, and why am I getting the feeling that
someone is telling you that you are?�

Her eyes narrowed. �What
the hell are you trying to say?�

�It�s Cicero, isn�t it?�

�Cicero never called me a monster. I came up with that all by myself.�

�But he says things.
Tells you that you�re this and that and not what you once were��

�Because I�m not, Harry!�

�I get it, alright? You�re not
human!� he hissed. �But it doesn�t
mean you�re not yourself. You still are!�

She clenched her fists and turned away from him, pressing
her knuckles to her eyes. �That�s just it!
I�m changing. I�m becoming someone else! I smell blood, and I want it. I look at Malfoy and I want to take his
life. Fear smells so utterly delicious
and when I�m hungry I become a vicious bitch! I have to drink a potion before I can trust myself to make love to you, Harry! I need a potion
to make sure I don�t start sucking your blood when the sex gets so
good. I�m ferocious and short-tempered
and I like wearing animal hide! And it�s just getting worse. It�s getting
worse!�

�Hermione, listen to me��

�No! You�re not
getting it, Harry! You can�t possibly! It�s just like everyone else is saying!�

His eyes widened with mingled hurt and outrage. �Everyone? Who�s everyone? All you�ve been talking to is Cicero��

�It�s not just Cicero!
It�s Jaime, and it�s Yasmin and it�s��

�Who the hell�s Yasmin?�

�A vampire.
They�re all vampires. They�ve
been around a long time and they�ve seen many things. I�m not about to shrug off what they�ve told
me��

�And just what exactly have they been telling you?�

Hermione pursed her lips a moment. �You don�t want to hear it.�

They were silent for what felt like forever.

�So whatever it is they�re telling you,� began Harry in a
quiet, undemanding tone. �Are you going
to listen to them?�

The thought that she might sent her stomach churning. The acceptance of the dreary reality Cicero,
Jaime and Yasmin had taken turns to paint was too painful. She didn�t want to listen to them. She wanted to prove them all wrong, but was
that best? Was that the right thing to
do? She would have an eternity to make
up for any mistakes she made now. Harry
would only have this one lifetime to make it work. Could she ask so much from him?

Yet, she loved him so much that all she wanted to do was
be with him for as long as it took.

Even if you drift apart? Or worse: Even if
he becomes miserable?

�I don�t want to listen to them,� she said softly. �But we don�t always get what we want, do
we?�

He looked so hopelessly troubled that it broke Hermione�s
heart to see him that way.

Quietly, she slipped into his arms, closing her eyes as
she felt him embrace back. He held her
so tight, probably as tight as she held him, the two of them desperately
clinging to each other in the darkness.

It was exhausting; all these emotional discussions that
bordered on bitter fights. Before she
was turned, she and Harry were perfectly suited to one another when it came to
dealing with their issues. As friends
and lovers they argued to reach a point of agreement, with no fear of crossing
forbidden lines. Things were a lot
different now. Now their arguments were
filled with tension; so many things unsaid because they were both terrified of
going too far.

She felt his fingers run gently through her hair and his
touch sent tingles from her scalp to the rest of her body.

It�s that easy, she thought miserably. Harry�s touch could call her desire so
easily, especially when their emotions were running high, and especially when
her vampire impulses held the momentum.

His fingers traced the line of her jaw before resting on
her chin. Tilting her face up, she
accepted his kiss and let the sensations run through her.

He kissed so well.
She always wanted to get lost in them.
Forget the pain and the worries.
Give in.

The kiss gained heat as they deepened it.

Hermione pushed herself up on her toes to press them
closer, her hands searching for the skin beneath his clothes. She could already feel the warmth of his
hands around the skin of her waist, dipping beneath her jeans to squeeze her
bottom.

This feels like
make-up sex and it feels amazing, she thought, whimpering slightly at the pressure of his
grip.

His blood roared in her ears and her vampire instincts
found purchase.

Teeth�

He hissed all of a sudden and jerked away, fingers to his
lips.

She blinked, shocked at his abrupt withdrawal from
her. It took another few heartbeats
before she realized what had happened.

I bit him.

She gasped. �Oh God. Oh God,
Harry. I�m sorry. It�s my fault. I shouldn�t have�I should have known I
couldn�t without the�oh, Harry!� She
began to cry and she couldn�t meet his gaze.
She angled past him to leave.
�This isn�t going to��

His grip was suddenly on her arm and she felt herself
being pulled back, almost roughly. His
fingers dug into her skin as he pushed her against the wall, knocking her head
back against the surface of it.

Instead of feeling pain, she was overcome by desire and
she didn�t even ask what he was doing.
She just went ahead and threw her arms around him while he kissed her
with mad abandon.

She fought to reign in her instincts as they tugged
frantically at each other�s buttons, pulling them so there would be more skin
to touch; to feel. Their blouses fell
open, their hands and lips taking advantage of this access.

They hadn�t made love like this since she got back from
the hospital; this passionate, impulsive way that they used to enjoy so
frequently. Since her turning, she had
been afraid to lose control and do something she would regret. She was still afraid, but feeling his lips,
his hands and his desire like this was fast overcoming her anxieties. If she didn�t let him take her she would go
insane.

�Harry,� she whispered frantically. �What if I��

He shook his head, kissing her to stop her words. When he had gone deep enough to deem her
unable to form further protest, he pulled back, breathing raggedly. �Focus on where I�m touching you. Listen to my voice.�

The book.

If she didn�t find it so difficult right now to control
herself, she would have found it easy to put her complete faith in Harry and that book he�s been reading. She hadn�t devoted time to reading anything
that didn�t have anything to do with horcruxes.
There hadn�t been enough hours, but if Harry could keep sounding like he
knew exactly what to do, she would
gladly let him lead her.

His hands slid up her legs, pushing the hem of her skirt
up her thighs to pull her knickers off.
He whispered how he loved her taste in knickers, even if he sometimes
tore the things off, like he wanted to do right now.

Listen to his
voice. She closed her eyes. Focus
on his touch.

Her fangs edged out past her lips, the ache of her
resistance blossoming in her mouth.
Concentrating, she held them back as he slid her panties over her boots
and tossed them aside.

The fingers of his other hand traced the leather wrapping
her shin and he met her vampiric gaze.
�I think I�d like them to stay on, don�t you?�

Hermione grinned in feral delight. He was not
making it easy, but it felt too good for her to tell him to stop. Vampire pheromones burst from her pores and
she saw his eyes rolling into his head, lids closing over them as he
groaned.

Having him thus drugged, she took the opportunity to gain
some control of her own. She grabbed the
front of his trousers and undid them, pushing everything off him once he was
free.

She stroked him, not that he needed any more help.

Hissing, and perhaps getting past the worse effects of her
powers, he took her by the back of her thighs and hitched her up against the
wall, pushing her skirt back to accommodate him.

Oh hell, yes, she thought, grabbing the shelves
to one side of her while grabbing the handle of a window on the other.

There was no need for foreplay. She was ready for him and he knew it.

When he sank into her, she almost bit him right
there. Everything around her seemed to
come eerily alive and the air surrounding them became filled with her
pheromones.

Harry was speaking, rather incoherently, as he pushed into
her with desire-driven force. She
desperately wanted him to keep being rough, encouraging him as she cried out
his name. The sound of rattling shelves
and windows only made it seem more passionate, and that made it all fantastic.

She wrapped herself more tightly around him and he expressed
how much he liked it with words and the increased enthusiasm of his thrusting
hips.

Crying out her approval, she tried desperately to have a
firmer hold on something else, as
she�d managed to knock too many items off their perches. She might have shoved a painting askew, and a
tiny, distant complaint from the painting�s hiding occupant fell on deaf ears.

�T-Table!� she suggested hoarsely.

It was right behind him, and it wasn�t exactly empty. There were a few things scattered on the
surface. The room had been used
recently, but they didn�t care, really.

She was sitting on the table in seconds, a cascade of
objects clattering into a mess on the floor.

Whatever map was underneath her was going to suffer abuse
at the torrid joining of their bodies.

Harry gasped as the globe on the table fell over and
crashed to the ground, slicing the continent of Africa in half. �Shite,
the globe��

�Sod the globe!
Just don�t stop!� She followed this with a throaty moan, mingling with
his.

�Oh, you bet I won�t�� he growled.

She threw her head back and his lips were upon her throat,
sucking fiercely his hand slipped beneath her bra to squeeze her breast.

Her fangs were impossible to stop now, and she could no
longer ignore the fierce desire roiling insider her. She felt a primal possessiveness; an aching need to mark him.

�H-Harry�� she hissed through her teeth. She needed him to be part of her; wanted to
have his blood coursing through her veins.
The spiritual desire to connect could only be achieved by partaking of
his essence, and she loved him so much it was impossible to deny the
instinct. Her pheromones poured out of
her, and any moment now, she was going to implode.

He groaned, telling her that he was going to come. He clamped his mouth over the soft flesh of
her shoulder and she felt his velvety tongue slide over it, as if to prepare that particular spot for something.

The split-second anticipation of what she knew he was
going to do was amazing. When he finally
dug his teeth against her skin, she hit her climax.

It was about as much as she could take. She sank her fangs into the soft flesh of his
neck, struggling desperately to listen to the sound of his impassioned cries as
he exploded inside her while she rode the ecstasy of drinking his blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He barely had the strength to lower them gently to the
floor, and when he didn�t have to support her anymore, he slumped heavily upon
her.

It took another few minutes for the intoxicating effects
of her climax and blood-rush to leave her, and slowly, as her senses began to
return, she realized that Harry hadn�t quite moved off. He hadn�t moved, period.

The hollow horror in her stomach solidified. Oh God,
I killed him!

�Harry!� she shrieked, pushing him gently off her by his
shoulders. �Harry!�

He moaned her name softly, blinking slowly as a weary
smile began to stretch his pale lips.

Relief washed over her in waves and she pulled him close,
cradling his head against her breasts.

�Oh Merlin� oh God, I
thought I had killed you, Harry!�

�Alive�� he whispered softly, shifting drowsily
about. ��Twas
fantastic��

If she didn�t get a hold of herself, she would burst out
in tears.

She felt some of his blood trickling between her fingers
and with a stab of fear, she felt for her own neck to see if he had managed to
break her skin.

There was no wound on her, just a faint soreness which
would probably bruise briefly.

The danger of infecting Harry gone, she turned to her other
concerns. He was pulling his trousers
back on, and he looked drunk. She helped
some in spite of his rather slurred protests and coaxed him gently to set his
head on her lap.

�Lie still, love,� she
whispered.

He smiled, blinking happily. He was still high from the entire thing,
though the loss of blood had obviously weakened him.

She dug her wand out of her boot and waved it at the wound
on his neck. The wound closed and she
wiped away the blood with her skirt, leaving two tiny pink scars. She summoned the replenishing potion from her
chamber drawer, hoping the vial would be able to find the little nooks and
crannies that would enable it to find its way to her.

�Hermione��

�Hush,� she said, swallowing her tears. She pushed some of his hair off his
forehead. �Talk later. Let me fix you, first.�

His hand sought hers and he clutched it weakly. �I wanted you to do that��

The tears came at that.
�Hush.� Please.

Minutes later, the soft tinker of a glass vial sliding
beneath the crack of the door disturbed the silence. It was the replenishing potion and it slipped
into her palm.

Steadying her trembling hands, she uncorked the vial and
helped Harry drink its contents.

His first taste of it had him turning away. �Nasty stuff.�

�All of it, love. Please.�

He complied without further protest. With the vial emptied, she replaced the cork
and set the container aside.

She eased him with gentle caresses, letting the potion
take effect on him.

Moments later he sat up somewhat sluggishly. She helped him, but she could see through the
darkness that his color was returning, and that his eyes were regaining
sobriety. He still seemed a little
listless, but he was evidently recovering.

Driven by anxiety, she examined him like a doctor would a
patient.

He laughed quietly.
�What are you doing?�

�I�m�I�m making sure��

�I�m fine,� he told her.
�I�m alright. Hermione, that was
amazing. That was��

�We won�t ever do
that again!�

He looked positively astonished. �What?
Why?�

�I was sure I�d killed you, Harry! I was��

�But you didn�t.�

�I was so afraid!�

�Hermione, I couldn�t even explain how mind-blowing that
experience was. Didn�t you like it even
a little?�

Like it a little?
�It was absolutely incredible, Harry!
But��

�Then don�t think about the �what if�,� he said gently,
holding her hands. �All I can think of
right now was how fantastic it felt� is that wrong?�

�I took your blood��

He tilted his head, watching her for a moment. �And why did you?� he asked quietly.

�Because I wanted it so badly,� she replied just as
quietly. �Because I
love you. That�s�that�s why I
couldn�t stop myself from doing it.�

He idly pushed some of her hair aside. He merely smiled; saying nothing and letting
her come to her own conclusions.

She let her words simmer in her mind, turning it over and
over so that she could appreciate what happened between them as much as Harry
did. It had felt wonderful to have
everything of him inside her, but as amazingly intimate the experience was, she
couldn�t get forget the fact that she had
taken his blood, and that it was taking
some part of his life-essence away.

Killing him slowly�

She could still taste his blood. Could still remember how exquisitely the warm
gush of his life felt against her tongue.
It was utterly tantalizing to think that they could do this again.

It hadn�t frightened him.
That was amazing. He was amazing.

But what did it all mean for her?

You�re a vampire
now, Hermione� built to kill�

Sitting in the dark, even with Harry, she couldn�t push
her macabre thoughts back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione opened her eyes to a new evening within the black
comfort of her coffin. The events of the
previous night came rushing back to her as she woke.

I made love to Harry
as a vampire for the first time.

It was a mingling of ecstasy and death; intimacy beyond
the realm of imagination and the purging of her humanity.

I�m a vampire.

Grimly, she pushed the lid up and rose, running her fingers
through her hair, which no doubt looked perfect. Vampires didn�t get pillow-head. Vampires were perfectly groomed from the
moment they rose out of their coffins.

She looked at herself and saw that her blue-black yoga
pants and sleep tank top of the same color were barely rumpled.

Well� the dead don�t
exactly toss around in their sleep.

Miserably, she hopped out of her coffin and grabbed the
towel hanging off her coat-rack.

For the umpteenth time, she cringed at the sight of her
pink flip flops. She reminded herself,
yet again, to get a new pair. In black, maybe. She
didn�t mind white, either. White wasn�t
pastel. It was just white, so she seemed
to like it a lot.

She trudged out of her cavern to get to the bathroom. The bathroom was actually nicer than one
would expect, it being in the dungeon.
It still needed a bit of work, but scourgifying the tiles, tub and
toilet had turned it into some gothic chamber of comfort. Harry promised her he�d have someone over to
make it much better, but she didn�t mind it so much as it was. It was clean and comfortable enough. That�s all that mattered to her.

�Good evening, sunshine,� came a
mocking voice from the cavern farther down.

Hermione tried not to growl. She could choose not to reply, but she�d
rather be damned than let Malfoy think he could get
to her again. Putting on an
expressionless mask, she stopped by the entrance of his cavern along the
way.

It was interesting to note that he wasn�t exactly a prisoner in the sense that
they caught him and forced him into captivity.
Draco had actually surrendered himself and said he had information that
might help the Order. He had used Dobby
to get his message to the right people.
His only request was that they protect him from avenging Death Eaters. It seemed like a reasonable request coming
from Draco.

�Hello, Malfoy.
Comfortable?� She knew he wasn�t,
of course. There didn�t seem to be
anything comfortable about lying on a lumpy bed in a cell that was in the
dungeon of one�s bitterest enemy. Yet,
Draco didn�t seem the least bit ruffled.

Almost like he�s more a vampire than I am.

Of course, that theory was quickly dispelled once she
began to get a whiff of the blood rushing beneath his skin.

Merlin, I�m
famished.

He smirked, giving her the once over. �It�s not 300-thread Egyptian cotton, I�ll
tell you that, but the help�s not bad to look at.�

She looked at her nails, pretending she hadn�t noticed him
checking her out. �I�ll be sure to tell
Dobby you fancy him. I never took you
for an elf-phile, Malfoy, but I suppose being alone in your mansion a lot, you
had to make do with what you had.�

Draco�s eyebrow arched, but that was about as much of an
objection she got out of him. �I�ve a
question for you, mu�Granger.�

Humph. At least he has the sense not to provoke me
again. �A question just for me and no one
else?�

�Yes. What�s with those slippers? I mean, look at them! They�re disgustingly pink.�

She frowned. Point for him. �So
I�m stuck with bad slippers. But you�re still in a cage, ferret face.�
She turned to leave. She had
better things to do that trade silly barbed words with him.

He yelled out something unintelligible. She didn�t bother to have him clarify
it.

She took her bath, went back to her chamber wrapped in her
towel and dressed. She left her chamber
in black jeans, a dark red t-shirt that said, �Go on. Call me a witch. I want
you to,� and her brown leather jacket. She was unable to help the erotic shudder
that went through her as the sound of her own boots against the stone floor
called last night�s events to her memory; they were the same boots, after all,
that Harry hadn�t wanted to
remove.

Harry, Ron and Remus were in the kitchen when she emerged
from the hallway connecting to the dungeons.
She couldn�t bring herself to greet them a good evening. It was difficult to be remotely cheerful when
she was lusting for blood, and her little conversation with Malfoy hadn�t
helped, either.

�I would suggest that someone tell Malfoy to shut the hell
up if he wants to live to tomorrow,� she muttered as she passed them to get to
the living room.

She heard someone sigh.
It was probably Harry.

�Good evening to you, too!� Ron cried after her.

She hated it when she got this way: Cranky and unaccommodating,
but she couldn�t help it.

Frankly, she�d gotten better at controlling her early
evening bitchiness. It didn�t mean she
felt any less terrible about it.

Peeking through the windows, she checked to see if her
ride had arrived. It hadn�t.

Steeling herself, she went back to the kitchen.

Three pairs of eyebrows raised in her direction.

�I�m sorry for being a bitch. May I start over?� she asked as meekly as she
could.

The eyebrows lowered, the tension leaving their shoulders
all at once. Sometimes, it frightened
her to see the kind of effect she could have on an entire room.

�Evening,� said Harry, as if to continue where she
should�ve left off.

She sat beside him, trying to calm her nerves.

�Draco will be moved some time soon,� said Remus as he scooped some tea leaves into a small bag. �So you won�t have to put up with him for
very long.�

�Can�t say I blame you for whinging, though� said Ron as
he speared a humungous slice of pumpkin pie on a plate. �He�s an aggravating twat.�

Hermione was about to express her appreciation for his
sympathy when her eyes fell on the pie and realization crept up on her. �Where did you get that pie? We didn�t have that last night, or else you
would�ve eaten some already.�

He froze, mid-bite.
It took a lot to disturb Ron when he was eating, but Hermione knew just
how to do it. �Umm�
what, this pie?� As if there was another. �S�always been in the pantry��

She glared at him.
�You got Dobby to make it for you, didn�t you?�

He opened his mouth to blurt what was probably a denial
before he caught Harry�s gaze.

Harry shook his head as if to tell him lying would be a
mistake.

Ron sighed. �It�s
just one pie!�

Hermione knew it. �For shame, Ron! Did you
at least give him a little something for his efforts?�

�He was willing!
Not like I forced him to do it!�

�And just what did you tell him to make him so eager to do
this favor for you?�

�Err��

�What did you tell
him?�

�Well, he was really happy you were alive��

She gasped. �Lower
than low��

�Oy!
I didn�t bring it up, he did! �Ron
Weasley, sir! Is Hermione Granger ma�am
really alright? Dobby is so
pleased! Dobby wants to make a pie!��

Harry and Remus laughed.

She shot him a disgusted frown. �He so
did not say that.�

�Well, it was something like that!�

�You�re impossible!
It�s like you�ve forgotten everything that S.P.E.W. stands for!�

�Forgotten? Hell, I bloody well never understood what the hell you were on about!�

�Go on, then! Eat your pie. It�s flavored with centuries of slavery and
maltreatment!�

Ron shoved a hefty piece of it into his mouth
stubbornly. �And it�s absolutely
delicious!� Some of the crust sputtered out of his mouth.

�Ugh! I hope you
choke on it!� She turned away, glancing through the kitchen entryway and to the
windows of the living room. There was no
sign of her ride.

She got up and trudged to the living room again, peeking
down the street to see if there were any cars coming.

Harry came up beside her, hands in his pocket. �It�s nice to hear you arguing about spew.�

�It�s S.P.E.W., Harry.
Don�t make me hurt you.�

He chuckled. �Right. Your ride late?�

She nodded.

�I can apparate you to his office, if you like.�

She smirked.
�That�s right. You have your
license now, don�t you?�

�Didn�t splinch a single thing.�

�How did Ron do?�

�Better than before.
The examiner didn�t catch the lock of hair he left behind, though, so he
got his license this time.�

She looked at him and he refused to meet her gaze, though
she could make out the twinkling in his eyes.

�Confunded anyone lately?� she asked,
grinning as she remembered the time Harry had asked her that very same
question.

He tried to look innocent but broke down and
chuckled. �Just the
teensy, tiniest bit. Just quick enough to get rid of the hairs.�

�Good lord, Ron and his cheating best friends.�

�The beauty of it is he had nothing to do with it both
times, so his conscience is clean while our morals are sullied.�

They shared a quiet laugh.

�So how �bout it, love?� said Harry, draping his arm over
her shoulders. �I can take you there
then just floo me when you�re done, so I can pick you up.�

She smiled at him in appreciation. �Harry� are you even
recovered from last night?�

He cocked a smile.
�Of course I am. Are you?�

She hadn�t expected him to throw the question right back
at her, but considering her reaction last night, the question made sense. �You know I love you, don�t you?�

�Yes.�

�I just� freaked out a bit last night. You�d gone limp��

�That happens to a bloke after a right
good shag. It�s usually ready to go
again after a ten to thirty minute nap.�

She couldn�t help but sputter with laughter. �Silly!
You know what I mean! I thought I�d killed you!�

�Got the life shagged out of me� not a bad way to go, if
you ask me.�

Her laughter ebbed and she shook her head. �It�s not funny, Harry. Can you even fathom how devastated I�d be if
you died in my arms?�

�Of course I can.
You died in mine.�

She looked up at him, saw the pain on his face and put her
arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder.

He returned her embrace.

Hermione was about to accept his offer of apparating when
Harry suddenly told her that her ride had just arrived.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from him to look.

And there it was. Cicero�s Volvo pulling
up at the curb.

�I have to go,� she said hollowly.

His disappointment was evident, though he forced a tiny
smile of resignation. �Yeah. I know.
I�ll see you later, alright?�

She nodded.
Silently, she headed for the door.
She glanced at him over her shoulder and saw him looking out of the
window into the street, but she wasn�t sure if he was actually seeing
anything. His gaze was lost in thought,
and whatever he was thinking, they weren�t the happiest of things. It pained her to watch him this way.

Turning away, she finally opened the door and stepped
across the threshold of 12 Grimmauld Place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I
thought this was a pretty sad chapter. Had a hard time writing it.
- 11
- 12
- 13
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Forever Knight