Forever Shroud Her In Night

This was originally posted as a response to Snapes_Goddess’ challenge of ‘On All Hallow’s Eve,' but I decided that I didn't like the way that I had ended it before, and decided to rewrite it a little with a different ending. I hope you all like it, please review.

Forever Shroud Her in Night

It was in the back of Flourish and Blotts, whilst searching for a rare book about the details of vampirism, that Hermione heard the soft, sweet voice that had been haunting her for the last seven months. She backed herself into one of the bookshelves and quickly cast a concealment charm on herself just as the happy couple walked by.

“I told you, Pansy, I am not fucking you in a bookshop!”

“Oh, come on, Draco. Please?”

Hermione’s reaction was the swallow the bile that rose into her throat. Not only was the reaction due to the whiny voice of the pug-faced ex-Slytherin proposing her boyfriend to do something like that in the most sacred of all places—honestly, only a library could be worse, in Hermione’s opinion—but also who said boyfriend was. It was those whispered words, “No, Pans,” that made Hermione’s throat burn with acid at the same time in made her heart flutter wildly within her chest.

For the last seven months, she had been visited by a man. She had never seen him because he always came at night. He never let her see him as he made love to her, and he was always gone before the sun came up. His parting words were always “My Psyche,” with a swift kiss.

She hated herself because she enjoyed it so much. She loved when he came to her. He would kiss her and caress her and make love to her and she enjoyed it more than she should. Everyone knew her as this prissy little muggleborn saint, and she loved that she had this secret—this deep, dark, but downright electrifying secret—that no one else knew about.

Of course, she had always wondered, had even asked him, who he was. She wanted to know why he chose her, why he didn’t want her to see him, why he only came every third night, why he whispered words of love into her ears but didn’t let her reciprocate them. Even though she wasn’t allowed to say the words to him, she was absolutely in love with the man that spent every third night with her in her bed. He was sweet and caring and spent hours playing her body like a finely tuned instrument. She wished that it could happen every night. She wished that he didn’t just have a need that had to be filled. But she was sure that other girls could fill that need just as thoroughly as she could, so why did he come to her?

She put all of the past information together with the new information she had gleaned today. He never talked in more than a whisper to her, and she had never been able to completely identify the voice, though she knew that she recognised it. And just now, hearing Draco Malfoy talk to his pug of a girlfriend, Hermione knew that his was the voice that she always heard gasp her name as he came deep inside her.

Her dilemma now was to decide if this new information about this man mattered to her. She knew that she was positively in love with the man who visited her, but that she absolutely loathed the man whose voice matched the body and mouth and hands and muscles of the man who she spent every third night with. So could she look past the years of animosity and hate and name-calling and bigotry when she knew the man within? The man who called her ‘love’ and had that smile in his husky, whispery voice? Could she love Draco Malfoy?

She held her head in her hands as she tried to process this information. She could not think right now, only wanting to override any past differences in order to be with the man she loved. But how was it then, that while she had broken it off with Ron only a month after her ‘nightly visitor’ had started coming to her, that he could still be with Parkinson?

Hermione suddenly felt very dirty. Was he with three different girls? Was that why it was only every third night? Was that why she wasn’t allowed to love him back, because she was just a phase that he needed to get over? Was she just a fuck-buddy to him? But why would he tell her that he loved her?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She quickly found the book that she was looking for. She decided to go upstairs to the muggle section as well before she left. On her way out of the store, she ran into the happy couple again, Malfoy with his arm around the pug’s waist. “Watch it, Granger,” he said in an angry voice.

“You watch it, Malfoy.” She turned and walked away. It was dark outside now, so she walked quickly to an apparition point and apparated home to her flat. She wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, she was happy that he would come to her the next night. She shouldn’t want that, shouldn’t want him, but she found that she still did.

Maybe she did love the bastard after all.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione awoke the next night to large fingers caressing her side. The fingers slid from her shoulder down to her bum for a slight squeeze and then back up to her shoulder. They moved her hair away from her neck and then there were lips against the column of flesh—the place that he had marked since the first night he had come to her. Hermione moaned. She still hadn’t had time to think about what to do, but she knew that she couldn’t stop it. She wished she could pretend that she still didn’t know that it was Draco Malfoy doing this to her, but she felt like confronting him about it at the same time.

“Happy Halloween, Hermione,” he said against her throat with a smile in his voice. “Trick or Treat?”

“Preferably ‘treat’,” she smiled. How could she possibly stay away from him when he did things like this to her? His hand now boldly caressed her body, massaging her breasts, making her nipples harden to aching little points, running a hand over her soft stomach, down to her curls and through the wet lips of her sex.

“Do you always sleep naked?” he asked softly. “Or only when you know I’m coming?”

“Only for you,” she said, her voice trembling as he ran a large finger over her clitoris. She bit out a moan. She could feel his cock twitching against her bum as she tried to move closer to his body in their spooning position. He spread her legs open and pushed one of his between them to get better access to her lower body.

“Oh, Hermione, you’re always so wet for me,” he practically moaned, while still keeping the whisper to his tone of voice. Two of his fingers plunged into her cunt and she moaned loudly, reaching a hand back to hold the back of his head as his lips moved over her neck and his hands touched and caressed her body in the sweetest of ways.

Her little gasping moans soon filled the darkened room, her hips were thrusting unconsciously against his fingers and she could feel the hard flesh of his cock rubbing against her with each of her frantic movements. She wanted him inside of her. No more teasing, she wanted him hard and fast and right now. “Fuck me, please fuck me,” she cried out, her voice cracking as he circled her clit with his soft thumb.

“Everyone thinks you’re such a saint,” he said in an amused voice. “Virgin Muggleborn Saint. If only they could see you like this, begging for my cock. But that’s what makes it the most fun, isn’t it, Hermione? You love it because I’m your dirty little secret and you can be yourself with me.”

“Oh, gods, yes!” she moaned. “Love having you, ah, in me.”

“Well, I can’t deny that, can I?” he asked in that husky whisper. He pushed her over on her stomach. “Hands and knees,” he said quickly and she complied, holding herself up on her hands and knees. He ran his hands along her sides as he positioned himself behind her. Finally, finally, the swollen head of his cock slipped against her until it found its heaven and pushed in.

“Oh, Merlin,” Hermione moaned. He made shallow thrusts until he was buried as far as he could get before he pulled almost all the way out and then pushed hard back in, almost causing her to fall over with the force of it. He began pounding against her, dragging out slowly and pushing hard back in, filling her, stuffing her, fucking her until she was a nearly boneless pile of limbs.

“Come for me, my love, come for me,” he moaned. He pushed her hair away from her shoulder and once more latched to his place on her neck. She moaned as his tongue laved at the spot, licking and sucking as he thrust erratically against her. And then finally, sweet surrender, her body arching against his as she hit her peak, feeling his teeth sink into her flesh, her blood spilling into his mouth.

He thrust two or three more times before coming, but she was too far gone to notice. She thought it was terrible that she loved being emptied of liquid better than being filled by it. She laughed slightly at that. She collapsed onto the bed, but he wasn’t finished yet, he hadn’t taken his fill, his need for her blood.

Finally he stopped, licking the wound on her neck, and groaning at the taste of her coppery blood in his system. She could feel his body get warmer as it lay on top of hers. She could feel him smile against her neck.

Suddenly, she knew.

She knew that she didn’t care that her vampire lover was Draco Malfoy. Nothing that he had done in the past could make up for what he was now. He had only come to her at first for blood. She had been the one to escalate it to the sexual relationship it was now, especially because she had read that the blood tasted so much better after or during an orgasm—the endorphins made it sweeter. She read all about vampires since he had started to come to her. One thing that she had read made her absolutely terrified, but absolutely electrified at the same time.

She had read that the more often a vampire drinks your blood, the more you turn into one, every time. They have mucus like a mosquito, where every time they bite a person, a little goes into their system. Hermione knew that if she continued this with him, she would one day be like him. She was already craving raw meat more than her usual medium-well, and the sunlight bothered her eyes more than it ever had before. She was more like him every day.

But she had also read something else.

He flipped her over and pushed a vial to her lips. Her blood-replenishing potion. She shook her head at him in the darkness. “No,” she said in a very soft voice. She was so tired. He had taken more blood this time than he had any other time. He must have been very thirsty.

“You need it, Hermione,” he said softly.

“No…it’s…it’s Halloween,” she said.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked in a slightly raw voice. “You have to take this, or you’ll die from blood loss.”

“No, it’s Halloween,” she said in a firmer voice. “It’s the only night you can do it. Please, do it.”

She felt him stiffen above her and knew that he knew what she was talking about. He brushed a hand over her hair. “I can’t do that yet, Hermione,” he said in a soft whisper. “I can’t do that to you, can’t make you what I am yet.”

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s going to happen anyway. Just do it now.” With a little wandless magic, she turned one of her pillows into a dagger. She pressed the cold metal into his palm. “Please.”

“If I do that, Hermione, it connects us forever. You don’t even know who I am, you don’t know what I’m like. Why would you want to be stuck with someone like me for eternity?” She knew that someone could be turned into a vampire at any time, they just needed to have been bitten and then bled out, but when it happened on Halloween, it was more like a bonding ritual; the two vampires would feel each other’s love, pain, hurt, and happiness. They would even see what the other was seeing. It was an amazing concept to her.

“Of course I know who you are,” she murmured, her voice getting softer and softer. The effect of having more than half of her blood gone from her body was starting to take its toll. She needed him to do this now. “And I know I want to be with you forever.”

“No, Herm—”

“I love you, Draco.”

He gasped slightly. Of course, he wouldn’t think that she knew. She had only found out a couple days ago anyways. He found his wand and muttered a lumos charm. He saw her face, framed by her dark curls, breathing heavily and her eyes closed almost all the way. She looked up at him with a weak smile. “I love you, Draco,” she said again. If his heart was still beating, he was sure that it would have stopped in that moment. She loved him. She wanted to be with him. She wanted him despite their past. She knew that it was him and was still happy about being with him. “If we do this though,” she said, breathlessly. “I want you to break it off with Parkinson.”

He laughed softly. “There’s nothing to break off,” he said. “She’s been trying to get me to get back together with her since we broke up in sixth year.”

“But I heard you in the bookshop,” she said. “You said you wouldn’t fuck her there.”

“Yes, because I wouldn’t fuck her anywhere. She’s a friend, nothing more.”

She smiled that brilliant smile again, but it was weak. He looked at his two hands. The vial of potion, or the dagger.

Let her live another year in the light.

Or kill her and forever shroud her in night.

“We can wait until next year, Hermione,” he said softly. “We don’t have to do this now. I don’t want you making rash decisions. What about your friends, your family, the sun? You’ll miss them all, I promise you.”

“I can still see my friends,” she said. “My family is dead. And the sun is already bothering me, so I’ll have to become a recluse soon anyways.” She took his hand with the dagger and placed the tip of it to her heart. “Please, Draco. I want to live forever with you by my side.”

He closed his eyes and frowned. He knew that he had damned her from the beginning, that she would always one day become like him, but he never thought it would be so soon, that she would want it like this. He knew it was the only time he could do it this way, that he could take her life quickly and turn her. This one night every year. All Hallow’s Eve.

“Please,” she begged again, this time so soft he could barely hear. Her head turned to the side and he knew that she had passed out. He could hear the blood moving slowly and thickly through her veins. He never thought that she would still want him after knowing who he was. But just the fact that she loved him made him happier than he had ever been before. He wouldn’t want to spend his existence with anyone else. He had been so afraid that she would reject him if she ever found out who he was. Afraid that she would leave him, kick him out, get rid of him somehow.

She was the Psyche to his Cupid. He visited her at night and made love to her but she was never allowed to see who he was, for his fear that she would reject him if she knew. But she had known all along, hadn’t she? And she had still let him be with her, drink from her, taste her, fuck her, love her. He realised his decision was already made.

“I love you so much, Hermione,” he said softly and plunged the dagger into her heart.

A/N: I've gotten a lot of comments about turning this into a full-length story, and if I'm feeling up to doing another story when I've finished with 'Freedom' then I will probably make this one longer, however, I would probably use my original ending with the list and him waiting a year before turning her, as it would give me much more to write about, obviously. I'm not promising that I'll write it, but if I do, I'm just letting everyone know that it will not be from this ending.

~BooBoo