Red Passion - HP - Draco/Hermione - 3/31
Title: Red Passion
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: Mature (R)
Links: Chapter 1 + Chapter 2
Summary: Post HBP. A vampire saves Draco from death and introduces him to a dark world. With Hermione Granger on the menu, can Draco save his enemy and his own soul? Eventual DM/HG.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Written for profitless entertainment.
Warning: Blood, violence, and eventually scenes of a sexual nature.
Author's Note: Story goes AU after the events of Half Blood Prince. Takes a couple chapters for Hermione to arrive, so just stick with me.
Wordcount for Total Story: ~65,900 words (varied by chapter)
Link to Masterpost
Chapter 3
Draco slept restlessly, his dreams haunted by the clap of wings, his quickened heart. A cold sweat gathered on his forehead and a falling bead stung his eye. Gooseflesh rose before the young wizard realized that he could feel the gentle tickle of breath on his skin. A pinch later, warm, sticky wetness rolled down his neck
He awoke, pushing himself out of the bed. Flowering drops of crimson stained the pillow case, and Draco wiped at his neck with his sleeve. He turned a full circle, expecting to see the pale face of his new master hidden a corner, but he was alone, daylight revealing empty, shadow-less features that in no way resembled the vampire. He must have been dreaming; he must have scratched the scabs while he slept. Yes, that was the case... The bite suddenly disappeared from his mind. He retraced his thoughts, realizing that it was indeed still day.
"Bloody muggle didn't know how much drought to give me," Draco sneered, walking to the window. The sun danced between two mountain tops, its light gracing the valley before it. Draco was certain he would still have a good hour or so left to travel. "I just need to get to civilization...out of the forest. Maybe I could hide...I wish I had my damn wand."
"If you attempt to escape from this estate, blood will me spilled-no exceptions."
Draco shook his head, clearing it of that warning. "I won't be property to some beast and his old woman," he hissed.
No, he would run.
Darien sat up, eyes blood-streaked in rage. He slid off the bed with a deliberately slow, human movement. The vampire reached out for the black satin bed robe lying at his feet and slipped it over bare shoulders. He already knew that Madam Melissa Hart stood outside his doorway.
"Enter," he called.
Madam Hart walked into the lavishly furnished, windowless room, a frown on her usually upturned lips. "You asked me to report to you when the boy left."
Darien closed his eyes a moment, letting them resume their natural blue gleam. His lips curved into a grin. "So soon?"
The old woman nodded. "Only a minute ago."
"The boy is more rebellious than I had expected-a sturdy spirit remains when all else fails," the vampire said, motioning for Madam Hart to open his wardrobe. "That which I value must be contained, though. I was hoping he would try to run tonight instead of carrying on for days. I have little patience, as you well know, Melissa. This evening will prove a valuable lesson."
"Indeed it will, my master," Hart crooned, laughter in her eyes. "Yes, indeed. But shouldn't you be after him soon?"
"I will let him go for a bit, let him push himself to weakness. I will even let him know hope-and then I will snatch it from him.'' Darien took the clean suit that the woman held out to him. "I only fear my new child will be a slow learner."
Draco threw himself behind a tree three times his width and grasped onto the bark to keep himself standing. He looked back at the path he'd just traveled. A few limbs swung laboriously from his passing, and the leaves and loose ground he'd trampled upon announced his presence for even the worst tracker. He cursed bitterly at his own stupidity, but the words only came out in puffs as he struggled to catch his breath.
His escape had been easy (too much so, perhaps). The old muggle woman had been cleaning about the house, humming a jolly tune as she worked. Draco had simply slipped past her and out the kitchen door. There had been no hex, no lock, and no ward, nothing to keep him inside. No, it wasn't the manor that kept him from making progress.
The woodland seemed to grow. Every step he took seemed to stretch out the landscape, making his journey even more daunting. So far, he had traveled a long ways, but he had only a few minutes of sunlight left and the canopy of leaves above him shadowed the ground enough for any dark creature's liking.
Draco turned, putting his back against the bark for support and attempting to quiet his heavy breathing. That's when he heard it, the sound of a slamming door. Panic shot through him but vanished in an instant. The sound had come from somewhere ahead, not behind.
He ran through the forest, his eyes searching until they found a faint light filtering though the trees. He reached a clearing and smiled at the welcoming sight of a quaint cabin up ahead. A beat-up, light blue muggle truck sat in front of the tiny home. An old man was bent over the rusted-out bed, pulling out a box full of groceries.
"Sir!" Draco shouted, running toward the muggle. "You must help me," the wizard insisted as the elderly man turned to greet him with owl-wide eyes.
"What seems the problem, lad?" the man asked, staring him up and down.
Draco realized that he was not up to his usual well kept self in his dirty pajamas and sweat saturated hair. A bead of salty liquid ran down into the wound at his neck, reminding him that he was indeed worse for wear.
The man sat the box back down, reaching out and grabbing the young wizard's arm. "Lad, answer me! Are ye lost? Where's yer family? A lad can't have been out in these woods alone."
"No," Draco snapped. "I mean, yes, I am alone. But there's someone after me." He looked around his shoulder, a chill running up his spine. Draco's eyes flew back up, and he saw that the sky's purple shade was submitting to black-blue night. If there was any time he needed help from a muggle, this was most definitely it.
"We have to go. He's coming!"
"Calm down, lad. There ain't nobody who can navigate these woods at night, so there's no need to fear. Now, come inside, and I'll fix ye right up, patch that nasty nick on your neck, too. Come in to Jacob's, and we'll find yer campin' party in the morning."
"Don't you understand, you stupid muggle! We have to go now. You must take me to the nearest town!" Draco shouted.
"I'll not tell ye to calm down again, lad," the old muggle said, running gnarled fingers over his bald head. "The local village is not a short distance, and I just returned from a trip to it. Just come inside. I've got me fire goin', and ye can tell old Jacob all about yer troubles over a bowl of something warm."
Draco pulled out of the man's grasp, raising a warning fist toward the skyline. "If we don't leave now, we'll both die. The creature after me is a vampire-surely, even a muggle knows what a vampire is."
Jacob stared at him with a questioning expression before nodding in conclusion. "Ay, I've heard of one of those," the muggle said softly. "Alright, lad, I'll take ye to the village. They've a good doctor there. 'E can patch ye up a bit better than ol' Jacob, I s'ppose."
Draco rolled his eyes, realizing that the old man thought that he was some sort of delusional mental case. "Fine, let's go," Draco snapped, walking to the passenger's door of the automobile. Jacob slid over the cracked seat and cranked the truck. The vehicle moaned and sputtered before finally jerking to a roar.
The muggle gave Draco a few cautious glances as he began driving down the bumpy dirt and gravel path that left both of them hovering above their seats every few seconds. He probably expects me to begin convulsing or something. Why do muggles have to be so completely ignorant when it comes to the important things?
"Where am I, anyhow?" Draco asked, sneering as the truck dipped into another pit and shook him.
"Ye must have been in the woods a while, eh?" Jacob muttered. "From the village, I'd say the closest city is 'bout three hours drive. It's a place called..." Jacob's mouth went slack, and the truck lurched to a stop, slamming both inside against the dash board.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Draco's outrage was replaced by fear. A tall figure stood less than a step away from the headlight's glare.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Drive, Jacob," Draco growled. "That's the vampire! Drive already."
Jacob stared at the creature without blinking, a dazed look upon his wrinkled features. The vampire, Darien, slowly walked to the driver's side, a small smirk on his pale face. Jacob grasped the door handle, opening it for the vampire as if he were entranced.
"To hell with this." Draco fumbled with his own door handle until he found it. He tumbled out of the truck.
"Look what you have done," Darien hissed, grabbing Jacob around the neck and pulling him out in one swift motion. The old man did not even bother to struggle. The vampire kept his eyes on Draco. "This is your fault, not mine."
With those words, Darien whipped the muggle's head to the side with a definite crack and dug his fangs into the papery flesh.
Draco stumbled back, slamming his door shut. He turned on his heels and ran back toward the old man's cabin. Before the house even came into sight, he felt a hand on his back, slamming him down into the ground. Draco pushed himself up, but fingers laced into his hair, holding the side of his face down into the mud.
"Did I not tell you that blood would be spilled it you tried to run?" asked a calm voice.
Draco didn't answer, but his eyes averted up. Darien leaned down so that the wizard could see his crimson stained mouth and pinkened teeth.
"That man was going to die soon anyhow," Darien said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The doctors gave him six months when he went for his treatment last week. Jacob was going to throw his medicine away-he was giving himself to nature. I have been visiting him since he bought this cabin in my woods. He had, perhaps, three months left in truth. I planned to take him when the cancer became too painful. It would have been mercy. Your foolishness has stolen from him those three last months."
Draco let out a shuttered breath. "Please," he groaned.
"I wonder what you would do for three extra months of living. Would you give Death all of your galleons, you spoiled little brat? Don't worry. I'm not going to kill you, Draco," the vampire insisted. "I can only hope that you have learned your lesson. Another mistake, and the next blood spilled will be from a younger body, with many years of life left in it." Darien released him and pulled him up onto shaky legs.
"Go back to my home," the vampire ordered. "I must clean up your mess."
"How do you expect me to find my way back?" Draco asked.
"Follow your blood. Perhaps you still don't understand. I own you, boy. I tied your blood to mine. My manor is mine as well. You can find it the same way that I found you-that way in which I will always be able to find you, no matter how far you run."
READ CHAPTER 4