Burning Eyes

The past weekend was the strangest of all.

I'd discovered that not only was Hermione Granger not dead, strictly speaking, but had somehow roped me into being her pet. She'd taken me around to every vampire hangout in the greater metropolitan area and now she'd planned to get me into China White, the most exclusive Muggle club in the city.

There was a crack just as I pulled on a pair of boots. My mouth dropped open when I saw her. She was literally, utterly perfect. Dressed in a pair of skintight jeans and a shimmering bronze top that left her back completely bare, she was *flawless*. Her curls were piled on top of her head and reflected the colours of her clothing. Her shoes were high, golden and strappy, allowing her gleaming, sublime toes to peek through.

"Close your mouth, Draco. You'll be letting the flies in."

"It's just that I've...well, I've..."

"Yes, yes. " She waved my astonishment away. "I'm surprised everyday. And don't believe that foolishness about vampires having no reflections. Of course we do." To prove her point, she walked to my mirror and peered into it, checking her face for some imagined imperfection.

"Are you just about ready?" She turned away and watched me shrug on my black suit jacket.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Hermione sauntered to me and adjusted my collar. She smoothed her hands over my shoulders and I noticed that she was three inches taller than me in her shoes. I didn't care. She was hotter than hell and I was hard pressed to keep my hands off of her. I balled my fingers into fists, resisting the urge. She smirked at me and drew her fingers into my scalp.

That's when she kissed me.

'Hoorah!' every nerve ending shouted. Her lips, at first colder than ice, warmed rapidly under my mouth. Her tongue, concealed in the crevice, was hotter than fire. I stroked my hands on the freezing skin of her back, leaving warm fingerprints in their wake. I wanted nothing more than to bring this ice princess to fiery life but she pulled away suddenly.

"We have to go."

"No, we don't." I was toying with the skin at the top of her very low waistband.

"Yes, we do." A pause. "I'm rather excited about China White. I've never been."

That was a surprise. "Never?"

"No. I've had the opportunity but never had the inclination."

"What brought on your change of heart?"

She shot me a dirty look. Ooops. I grinned in what I imagined was a charming manner. She only pursed her lips and took out her wand. "Take my hand, Malfoy."

I gripped her marble fingers.

"Apparatio!"

I felt the sudden squeezing of my guts and fervently prayed for it to end soon. And it did. We were in an alleyway. The music coming from inside the club was loud enough to drown out the thunderclap of our Apparition. She led me to a black door, hundreds of plebs and photogs camped outside, waiting for their favourite celebrities to come out, staggering and stinking drunk. The large bouncers at the door eyed us suspiciously, and then a bit warily as they took in Hermione. She was terrifyingly beautiful and tough-looking. She waved her hand in front of the men and they pulled aside the velvet rope, granting us entrance.

The club was like a normal space. People writhed everywhere, doing everything. I caught flashes of red hair as some woman I recognized as an American starlet squirmed in the lap of Hugh Grant. Funny. I never thought him to be one for jailbait. Yes, yes, I must admit it. I, like the rest of the bleedin' country, read Ok! magazine. Sod off.

We managed to find a booth and eased ourselves in. A waiter came scurrying over, eager to find out who we were and what we were doing there. Under the pretense of getting our drink order, of course.

"A vodka tonic for me, and use either Belvedere or Grey Goose, none of that Smirnoff rubbish," I sniffed.

"A glass of your special '89 port, if you please." The waiter's eyes grew nervous and as round as saucers at her drink request.

"But, but that's -" he stammered, unsure of how to proceed.

"I know precisely what it is. Bring it." Hermione had that implacable tone of voice and her eyes gleamed in the deep shadows of the booth.

"Right away." The waiter scurried away, sweating buckets.

"Down, girl." I loved it when she showed her fangs. Metaphorically speaking.

"I hate it when I get inexperienced servers. There are enough characters in here that the help should be sanguine when they get odd requests. No pun intended, of course."

"Of course. So I'm assuming correctly when your drink order was for -"

"I'm a vampire. What else would I be drinking?"

"Yes, well, I didn't know that there were code words for this sort of thing."

"Why should you have?" She leaned into me, her body radiating a strange mixture of hot and cold. "You're not of this world."

"Yet."

"Don't make the mistake of wanting it, Draco." Her eyes were hard again. "It's hell."

"I've already got a seat reserved there, on the left hand side. Shall I make a reservation for you as well?" I grinned at her.

"Cheeky monkey." She tapped my cheek with her nails. They were short, as they'd always been. I'd always thought that vamps kept their nails long, sort of like coke addicts with their one enormous pinky nail.

The nervous waiter came back with our drinks and Hermione pulled out a gold clip filled to the gills with Muggle money. She tugged out what looked to be a fifty-pound note and tossed it casually at the waiter. His eyes nearly bugged from his sockets as he pocketed it, mumbling thanks before making himself scarce.

Hermione picked up the clear goblet and lounged against the leather banquette.She raised her glass at me and we both drank. The vodka tonic wasn't nearly as alcoholic as I'd have liked. Judging by the look on Hermione's face, she wasn't pleased with her drink, either.

"Apparently this *is* from '89. Disgusting. It's all coagulated."

"Oh, you're foul. You have the gall to order blood in a public establishment and then complain about the quality."

"When I lay out a fifty for drinks, they'd better be tip-top, not this swill."

"My drink's rather alright."

"Liar. I saw your face. A bit skimpy on the Grey Goose, then?"

"A bit. It's tolerable."

"At ten and twenty quid, respectively, it should be more than merely tolerable."

"So...overpriced drinks, mediocre crowd, terrible DJ. Not what one would expect."

"Not at all. I'm sorry I wasted my time getting dressed up for this."

"I'm not. You look fantastic."

"Thank you. Glad to see you've recovered your voice on that score." She smiled heatedly. It did funny things to my insides. I wished, not for the first time, that she wasn't a vampire and that I'd noticed her earlier.

"Well, you didn't and I am. Why should that stop us from enjoying one another?"

"Blast you. Stop reading my thoughts."

"It's a lovely vampire trick. Besides, I already knew the rudiments of Legilimency."

"Not surprising. You know a bit of everything."

"Don't sound so bitter, Draco."

"I'm not." But I was. Her scalding intelligence had always been a sore spot with me.

"Don't pout." She languidly rose from the seat cushion to drape her body across my thighs, straddling me. Gods, she was sexy as all hell.

"You're ready for it, and make no mistake." She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear in a charming manner.

"You're a beautiful woman and you know it."

"I'm also a vampire."

"I can think of unlikelier couples."

"Can you?" She leaned in close to me. I could feel the strange heat of her mouth wafting over my neck. When had Hermione Jane Granger become such an expert tease? "I can't."

She slid her hands up my arms and shoulders to rest on the back of the leather banquette. I mustered up every drop of self-control I possessed and pushed her away.

"Look, Granger, as you keep pointing out to me, I'm mortal, you're a blood-sucking fiend from beyond the grave. Stop doing this to me. You tell me in one breath not to want that life and in the next you're turning on the seduction vibe for all that you're worth. How does that work?"

"I don't know, Draco!" she yelled, thank God the crap music covered her scream. "When I ran into you at that bar, I had no idea that you were going to be as magnificently gorgeous as you are. It was the first time that I'd ever regretted being as I am now."

She was still sitting on my lap, all glowing curls and consternation. I ran my hands up her thighs to rest on her waist. I felt the first stirrings of pity well up inside of me. Damn vampires and their glamorously tragic lives.

"Don't be so sour. I can't help it." She didn't mean to pout so adorably, but she did.

"You can help enjoying it so bloody much."

"Your name isn't Buffy and I'm sure as hell not Angel. Why shouldn't I enjoy what I am as long as I can?"

"Because you cause suffering. That isn't the Granger I know."

She climbed off of me. "That girl is gone. Burned away."

"Not likely. She's still in there, somewhere."

I heard her give an amused yet rueful chuckle. "And you're going to save her?"

"Bloody damn right I will."

"Good luck." She rose languidly from the seat. "In the meantime, shall we?"

Hermione tossed her curls in the direction of the mass of bodies on the dance floor.

"And torture myself further? Not fucking likely." I tossed back the rest of my terrible drink.

"Aw. Is my Drakie a widdle afwaid?" She pouted at me mockingly.

"Damn you. You know I hate being called a chicken." Shrugging off my jacket, I slid around the table to face her. "Let's go."

Hermione took my hand and we waded through the throng of partiers to wedge ourselves in a non-existant spot on the floor. As we danced, there was no doubt that we caused something of a stir. We were, I must say, an extraordinarily attractive couple. The other dancers fell back to give us a little room. Hermione knew exactly what she was about on a dance floor. She writhed around me expertly, moving her body against me, using me as her prop. When she ground her hips into mine for the fifth time, I was done. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her against me.

"Get your coat, love. You've been pulled." And I walked away, leaving her to follow.