Red Passion - HP - Draco/Hermione - 28/31
Title: Red Passion
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: Mature (R)
Links: Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Chapter 19 + Chapter 20 + Chapter 21 + Chapter 22 + Chapter 23 + Chapter 24 + Chapter 25 + Chapter 26 + Chapter 27
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.
Wordcount for Total Story: ~65,900 words (varied by chapter)
Chapter 28
"He's gone."
Her voice seemed to break the room in half with one fatal slice. Darien winced at the words but did not pull his eyes from the window. The yellow moon was heavy and round, a perfect distraction for a creature with the superior vision required to study its subtle craters and shadows.
"You don't know that," Darien said, unsure of why he and his maker had chosen to have such a conversation with words. It was unnecessary. But they often did such things, or were forced to do such things as speak and sigh and shutter by that flickering light of humanity within them.
Annalisa approached him slowly and reached out, sliding her arms around him and pulling his back tight against her full chest. She was a tall, slender form, and her chin rested easily on his wide shoulder, her body folding so intimately into him that they appeared, from the shadow off of the room's lone candle, to be one figure. Her narrow nostrils fluttered open, taking in his scent.
"You enjoy deceit too much, my little fiend," she said, the hint of a smile on her lips not quite reaching her cold eyes. Her voice was clipped with such a variety of accents that even Darien had never been able to place them all, but, in her cooing tone, she sounded ever so slightly like a Russian princess. "You have fooled even yourself."
"You told me once that love is no more a truth than a lie," he said. His hand crept up his chest, finally stopping when his fingertips caught her cheek. "So does it really matter then, that I have deceived myself?"
Annalisa planted a gentle kiss on his ear. Her eyes were also distracted by the light of the moon past the open sliver of a window. This tower room was the highest that still existed in the skeletal remains of her castle refuge, and the furthest from the pit where they kept their prisoner.
"I have not given you a proper gift in many years, my child. Let me go out, find you a new son. Another wizard, perhaps. Arrogant and pureblood, like you prefer. Or would a daughter be less painful?"
"Apparently, I already have a daughter," Darien snapped, but he did not pull away. After a pause, he shook his head. "No, one doesn't simply abandon their son... simply because he is tainted. My dragon remains."
Annalisa closed her eyes, tilting her head against his. He is gone from us. He is soon to be gone from this world entirely. Give up, Darien.
His voice was soft. "He is not gone."
"Do you really need me to say it, Darien? Are you so childish still that you need the truth shoved into your face?"
Annalisa released him only to grab hold of his shoulders and turn him to face her. "We've killed him," she said. "His death will be slow, and he'll want only for her, even as he fades. Not you, Darien. He will care nothing for you. There is no time for you to strengthen the bond between you. Even if you were to take him again now, he would not be reborn. Not unless the girl turned him. His body would resist anyone but her. Surely, you know this."
"The girl hated me but came over easily enough."
Annalisa frowned. "The girl was bound to no one. If she had been another's child, her body would have resisted the change. She would have remained a corpse. You know this, child. I taught you as much. Now, quit this game of yours. Either kill the boy or take him back to your daughter."
Darien looked as if he had swallowed hot coal. His face was drawn, ashen. "What would be the point? She wouldn't turn him. She's too young."
Annalisa's grin returned, her pointed teeth as bright a white as her skin. She laughed, mirthlessly. "So no more talk of killing her then? Nevertheless, we're back to where we began, child. He's gone. Forget him. There are more urgent matters to attend to."
"Bartholomew's message." Darien lowered his head in a sign of sympathy. "Holly is gone."
"Yes," Annalisa said, her voice hard. "Holly is no more. With or without her help, there is no doubt in my mind that this pitiful Dark Lord knows our location already."
"Is he a threat to our family?"
"Our family's number has dwindled over the past century," Annalisa began. "The wizard has some uncanny ability to side-step death. But he is only human now. I would not think he alone would be a threat. But he has followers, amongst them a family of vampires from the south. They are morons, all of them, to kneel to that pest. But I have seen madder men take stronger allies in the past, so it is no true surprise."
"We've stayed out of these battles in the past, perhaps we should do the same now," Darien suggested.
"Do you think this Voldemort will forget you so easily? You should have thought about neutrality before you made deals with him and figuratively spit in his face," Annalisa chided. "Foolish moves, all of them. But I did not turn you for your strategic abilities, I suppose."
"No," he said, his eyes glimmering in memory, "you did not."
"We're going to fight this one. I'll need everyone ready. Strong and armed." Annalisa turned towards the door, as if to leave. She paused, her fingers tight on the wooden frame. "Darien, you're weak. You need to feed."
"No."
"Yes," she insisted. "I'm afraid you cannot finish what you began this time. Face your truth, Darien. Kill the boy and prepare yourself for battle."
A sound caught Darien's ear and he all but felt the moon's subtle glow leave the room. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw what was blocking the night's light. The obstruction was a hideous mark hanging like a cloud in the otherwise clear sky. Its form was familiar; it was a fleshless skull with a long tongued serpent pushing out of its open gape.
"Our guests have arrived."
The noise was alarming.
Draco wasn't sure what it was; raised voices, laughter, screams. Only noise, muffled through stone walls and bouncing down the pit's open top. It had surprised him out of his half-sleep, if only because noise seemed so scarce in this place. He'd been here for but a day and already he'd gotten used to the loudness of silence, the sound of his breathing, the whisper of movements when visitors would pass above without word or gesture.
For a split second, he thought about addressing the sound with a sarcastic call, ask if they'd finally decided to bring him something to eat and drink (vampires, he'd noticed, were inconsiderate like that). But something held him back.
Perhaps it was simply that part of him that thought the sound a bit too strange. A bit too much like the sound of fighting.
Draco pushed himself up off of the dirt bed and reached out blindly until his fingers found the circular wall. He leaned onto it, as if to stop himself from being disoriented when he raised his head and stared up to the opening above. Though there was some form of light up there that allowed him to see the distinguishing circle that lead into the open passage, it must have come from some far away candle or open window because it was not even bright enough for him to see if the ceiling far above was made of stone or wood.
Nevertheless, his eyes stayed trained on that circle. The shadows above seemed to shift, playing tricks on his eyes. Then they stilled once more. Black on black on black.
He released a shaky breath, listening to his own mind. Hoping that he'd hear his name being called out. When he didn't, he assumed that there was nothing above him. Then the shadows moved, ever so slightly. A head cocking to one side.
"Someone up there?" Draco asked. He didn't bother to shout, knowing it could heard him. "Annalisa?" he added, almost hopefully.
A blinding ball of fire shot past the opening, landing somewhere further down the hall and illuminating his visitors: two faces he didn't recognize stared down at him. Even in the fleeting glance, he knew that both of them were dead, the dark skinned one an ashen color, the other one almost blue from the raised veins beneath his fleshy shell. Vampires.
"Shit," Draco hissed.
The fire ball that landed close to the pair seemed to be fading quickly, but its light was enough to show one of the vampires motioning for someone else. A tall hood cast a shadow over the opening and Draco felt his knees buckle ever so slightly. A Death Eater. Here, of all places.
The wizard held out his wand and shot a bolt of fire down the pit, but he wasn't aiming at the Draco. The fire was small but still lively when it landed at the floor's center, brightening the surroundings. Draco winced away from the light, pushing himself closer to the wall and forcing himself to open his eyes again to look up. The Death Eater had disappeared, but the other two remained.
They landed in almost silent thuds on the floor, one on either side of the fire, boxing Draco in.
"They left you for us, traitor," the darker one stated, lowering his gaze. His tongue made a quick swipe over swollen white lips.
"I'm not a traitor," Draco breathed, as if on instinct.
The blue one ran a hand through his hay yellow mane and shrugged. "Don't really care, lad. We won't hold it against ye while we're chewing ye bones."
He chuckled, as if the line had been rehearsed, and a flat hand slid out of the front of his throat, sending a spray of blood across Draco's face. The wizard winced, spitting out the coppery taste on his lips. He wiped the splatter off his eye lids and looked back up in time to see the dark skinned vampire having his hear ripped from his body.
The bones of the spine crackled and gave, the tearing skin and popping sinews following suit. His face was still in an angry scowl when his skull rolled to a scalp-up stop at Draco's feet.
Draco blinked, staring at his savior, Darien.
"You look a bloody mess in every meaning of the phrase," Draco said, taking several deep breaths. Without meaning to, he kicked the head to his side.
"As do you." The vampire's eyes darkened, and he reached a hand out, waiting. "Come," he commanded.
Draco hesitated only a moment, staring at the black blood caked in his pointed nails before taking hold of the icy wrist. The wizard's arm felt as if was being ripped from his shoulder as the vampire all but flew up the pit wall and to the surface passage. Darien stopped above, but did not release him.
The vampire's probing eyes covered the length of the passage, and, spotting no danger, he turned back to Draco. "I'm sorry, Dragon," he said, his voice almost at a whisper.
He elbow twitched, slinging the young man into his embrace.
"Don't," Draco pleaded. "I don't want to die, Darien."
The vampire did not relinquish his hold, his brow wrinkling and forcing his eternally young face to look old for a moment.
"This will be the last time," Darien promised. He buried his face into Draco's neck, his lips finding the quickened pulse, and sunk his fangs into the flushed flesh.
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