Burning Eyes

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all the characters therein, do not belong to me. They are owned JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, Scholastic Press, Bloomsbury Press, et.al. No copyright infringement is intended.

Now, on with the show.

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After six months of the most meticulous brewing, I finally perfected it. A miniscule amount, shining bright gold, was contained in bottom half of a glass vial. All that was left was to administer it. But how? I'd seen neither hide nor hair of Hermione since our last dramatic parting. Every now and again I would get the sense that I was being watched, but I never saw her and she certainly never contacted me.



She kept me so well cloaked when we were at any of the vampire haunts that I could not have found my way back there if my life depended on it. I'd avoided the pub where our first encounted happened and I made sure to be safely indoors when darkness fell. Forever to make it and now to be thwarted by distance. It was not to be borne.



I sat on the bare stool in my makeshift workroom and studied the tissue-thin parchments once more. It would seem that the best way to get it into the bloodstream would be intravenously. How could I get close to her without her reading my thoughts? I would have to be careful as I prowled the streets looking for her.



I picked my night of nights most carefully. A night of no light, a new moon, suited my purposes best. I bathed and perfumed myself to perfection. I chose my clothing with the utmost care. A simple black suit, with a black shirt underneath - all the better to play up my fairness. Hermione always had been fascinated with my skin.



I loaded the needle and capped it. Pausing in front of the mirror, I made sure to erase the wide-eyed faun look from my eyes. 'A bit of Dutch courage never hurt,' I thought as I slammed back the sweet, ruby red port. It left a stain on my lips that reminded me forcefully of who I would be dealing with in a short time.



"Locatus Hermione," I intoned. A wisp of a blue line threaded its way along the floor and out of the door of my flat. Squaring my shoulders, I followed it.

*********

Funnily enough, I never would've guessed that Hermione was one for sentiment. Seems my original assessment was wrong. The Locator spell led me to the bar of our original meeting. My stomach queered, thinking of what was to come. I walked in, scanning the room quickly for her. It took a moment. The clever minx had performed a Non-noticing spell on herself. As if I could've ignored her. She was huddled a corner of the smoky tavern, sipping a drink and watching me intently.



She was still as extravagantly beautiful as I remember. The Autumn-coloured curls were pinned up in elegant disarray. As I drew closer I saw that she was dressed similarly: black shirt opened an almost obscene amount, sleek black trousers and the same, lethal looking boots she wore on our first re-acquaintance. An ironic and sad smile quirked the corners of her mouth.



"So. You've chosen."



"I have."



"Chin-chin, then," she drawled the Italian toast and took long sip of the blood in her goblet.



"Do you mind if I have a drink first?"



"Please, do. Savour it. I can't having you regretting your last taste of mortal pleasures." A hard look came into those gleaming eyes.



"I've had enough 'mortal pleasures' for a hundred men. I shan't look back and regret it." And as I said the words, it was true. Not that I meant for this evening to go the other way, but if it did, then I was ready. I spent the past six months not only preparing the potion, but myself for that eventuality. A raised finger brought the barkeep scurrying over.



"A flute of Roederer Cristal, '96, semi-dec." The man nodded once and disappeared to find my drink.



"Lofty tastes. I'm surprised you ordered semi-dec. I'd have thought you were a brut type of fellow." She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at me.



"I don't care much for the dry aftertaste. It's always rather sour." I made a little moue at the rememberance.



"I myself preferred doux. But to each their own."



"Extra sweet? Charming." The flute appeared at my elbow and I took a sip of the excellent champagne.



She gave a self-derisive chuckle. "I wasn't very charming during our school days. Rather priggish and self-righteous."



"To the contrary, I rather liked your stick in the mud demeanour. It made your little flare-ups even more intriguing. You had a hell of a temper, love."



"Still do." She finished her glass and set it down, toying with the stem. "Are you very angry with me for leaving the way that I did?"



"No. It made me sad, more than anything."



Her eyes flashed sun-bright in the darkness. "I don't need your pity."



"Not pity, darling. Sympathy." I took a deep swallow of the champers, feeling it mixing nicely with the port I'd already consumed.



"Sympathy from a Malfoy. Will wonders never cease?" That wry, mocking tone again.



I thought of the potion in my jacket pocket. "They won't cease tonight, love." I finished my drink and tossed a couple of sickles on the bar. "Come. Let us get this over with."



She took my hand and we left, saying nothing.

*********



The next thing I knew, we were in one of the more secluded parts of Epping Forest. I made it a point not to frequent the place in daylight because of its rather unsavoury past, but to be here at night almost put me off my game.I stuck my hands in my jacket pockets, shivering slightly at the chill in my bones. It was completely dark and somewhat misty. Perfect setting for a murderous Heathcliff to roam about.



Hermione stood in front of me, as still as death. Watching me with those glowing eyes as a cat eyes a particularly juicy mouse. I touched the cold vial, fingering it, working the needle cap off.



"Are you sure this is what you want?" She had the gall to look vaguely concerned.



"Yes." I felt my stomach clench again in anticipation.



"Good." A wicked smile this time, fangs exposed. I could smell my fear and I knew she could, too. She was glad. Glad to have me. Perhaps as a companion. At least I had been given the choice. I was giving her no choice. It was my way or nothing.



She moved like graphite smoke and then she was upon me. A kiss. The bite. Pain. Warmth. Shivering. Sight shrinking to pinpricks and forest sounds fading to whispers. I managed to grasp the needle in hand, sticking my finger with it in the process. Thumb on the plunger, fingers curled around securely. I put one arm around her waist and and held her tightly. One chance, before I was drained and there was no going back. My legs going wobbly beneath me, we sank to the mossy ground.One chance.



I struck. Sinking the needle home through the thin layer of trouser and the harder, more resilient flesh of her. Her head snapped up, teeth tearing through my neck in her surprise. I pressed down on the plunger, feeling the initial resistance before the give of the potion sinking into her dead body.



A sigh. "You've undone me, Draco."



The last thing I saw was the dulling of those burning eyes. Severus would have been proud.