An odd sound awakened her from her deep slumber. Rising from the bed, she felt the pain in her ribs, and it nearly sent her reeling once again into oblivion. It was dark where she was, no light at all. A stench rose high in the air…a stench of death…and she knew that she was in a Hell of some sort. Gazing around gently, her hands upon her bruised and battered chest, she saw that she was in a large, stone four-post bed. Blood red drapes hung down from the banister. Her sheets matched the drapes, and there was white lace that ran around the border of her comforter. She knew that she had never been here before, and had no idea where on Earth she could be. Then, the sound resounded again.

It was a low hiss, like that of a cat, coming from the corner of the room that she was in. Turning slowly, her ribs ready to burst open, she saw a pair of eyes glint at her from across the bed. Backing up as quickly as she could in her condition, she felt her head go back again the headboard of the bed. She raised her hand to make sure that she hadn’t split open a wound there. Then, clutching her sore and battered chest, she attempted to keep her breathing steady.

“Hermione Granger,” said a high and evil voice, “You have awakened.”

“Who are you?” she asked, “How did I get here?” She tried desperately to control the terror in her voice. She had read about a situation like this. Praying that it wasn’t what she thought it was, she listened to what he had to say.

“The Dementors delivered you to us,” said the dark stranger, and he moved in closer to her, “You are our payment.”

“Payment for what?” she asked, “What have you given to him?”

Her ribs gave a painful throb. She doubled over in anguish.

“For the past 16 years, we have served the Dark Lord,” he said, and she could feel his breath on her neck, “No one ever saw us. The newspapers never even mentioned our presence on the Powerful Side. But we were there. We killed for him, and we used our powers to bring more into our league. We didn’t get as much press as the other creatures that helped him, but we worked just as hard. Now, he has decided to repay us for our service…with you.”

“And why did he need you?” she asked, and the terror had entered her voice now, “What powers do you possess?”

“We are creatures of the night,” he answered, “And we can make more creatures of the night.”

“Werewolves?” she asked fearfully.

“No. No, the werewolves are the ones that you hear about. We, however, are more powerful, more entrancing. I dare say you have heard of us yourself…in stories and myth. We are the vampires.”

Hermione could feel the nausea sweep over her. She heaved, her ribs now on fire, the terror making her sick. There was a swish of cold air, and suddenly, she felt a cold, icy hand upon her neck. Her eyes slowly began to grow accustomed to the dark. She could see him now. The vampire was next to her on the bed, hunger in his black eyes. His stringy black hair hung down in front of his deathly pale face. The blue lips of the undead moved close to her face. She tried desperately to breath deep breaths, but the pain made it difficult. She turned her head away.

“Please,” she said to him, “Please don’t…I can’t fight it…I’m…”

“You suffer now, Hermione Granger,” said the vampire, “I can smell your pain. You want to die. You want to be relieved of it all.”

She shook her head, refusing to give in to what he was telling her. But she couldn’t ignore the truth. She was in such pain that she would have given anything for it to end. Then, something amazing happened.

A beautiful red light entered his eyes. She couldn’t help but stare at it. Soon, her mind was blank, free of emotion and thought. She could only hear his words.

“Let me ease your pain,” he said, and she felt his cold, soothing lips upon her neck, “Let me take it all away.”

“Can it be gone?” she asked, “This pain in my chest? The fear in my heart? All of it?”

“It can be,” he said, “Just allow me to ease it for you.”

“Yes,” she said.

He came at her so fast that she didn’t have time to scream. The teeth pierced her throat, and she felt her own blood ooze. The pain in her ribs had been transferred to the wound now on her neck. She let out a cry, and then a sense of wonderful numbness began to overtake her. She suddenly felt dizzy, but a strange sensation of relief and satisfaction was beginning to sweep over her. Suddenly, the world began to go dark. She let out a sigh as the creature feasted on her blood, and she began to grow cold. Blackness encircled her, and she welcomed it. This is what it felt like to die.

Hermione awoke later and felt as though a weight had been inserted into her head. Her eyes hurt, and she felt incredibly weak. The pain in her ribs was gone, and for an instant, she didn’t remember anything that had happened. Then, it all came rushing back, and she reached up to feel the puncture wounds on her neck. There were none. Sitting up was very difficult to do, but she managed it. She found something odd.

She was in the same room that she had been in last night, but it had been illuminated. A green tint had filled it, and she could see everything perfectly. There was a book on the nightstand next to her, and a bathroom to her right. She launched herself out of bed, her head throbbing painfully, and made way for it.

Once inside, she turned on the sink, and the warm water flowing over her hands was like heaven. Bending down slowly, she went to rinse her face. Her head was still in pain, like an annoying migraine, and she desperately tried to get rid of it with the water. It was to no avail. Sighing, she made for the door. She let out a small shriek. Her tormentor was there waiting for her.

“Did you have a good sleep, beloved?” he asked her, and she backed into the sink. She could see him extraordinarily well now, and she wanted to let out a scream of terror. He was a thin as a skeleton, with cheeks that pointed out from his face. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his eyes were as black as the midnight sky. His skeletal fingers resembled those of Voldemort’s, and his long, white fangs hung over his lower lip.

“I am not your beloved,” she answered strongly, and he moved in to touch her shoulders. Her head gave another painful throb, and she fell into his chest. There was no heartbeat to be heard there. She desperately tried to straighten up, flailing her arms about in the air, but he held her fast.

“Darling, just sit for a minute,” he said, and he moved his hand up and down her back. She shuddered involuntarily. The empty chest never rose to take a breath. She ignored the cold sweat of fear that began to drip down her face. Then, the question burning in her mind came out of her mouth.

“What happened to my friends?” she asked, and she pulled around to face him. Letting out a smile that showed every inch of his sharp and bloodstained teeth, he looked her in the eye.

“Ron Weasley escaped and is now a Death Eater by force,” he said. She put her hand up to her mouth and tried to hold back a shriek of disbelief.

“You loved him, didn’t you?” he asked. She remained silent, not wanting to answer. What he had said was true. She loved Ron, more than anything in the world. This creature may not be forgiving toward him if that was found that out.

“Shame you won’t see him again,” he told her. She shook her head, trying to ignore him. Then, another alarm went off in her mind. Why would she be in this sort of position if they had succeeded? She looked at him again.

“Harry?” she asked.

The vampire laughed.

“He is dead.”

Hermione’s legs buckled. Her headache had just been increased ten fold. She felt herself hit the vampire’s chest, and his strong hands supported her.

It was over. After everything they had hoped for, everything that they had planned, they had failed. Her best friend, her personal hero…he was gone. Never again would she gaze into those emerald eyes. Never again would she stare at that scar. Never again would she hear him laugh. He was broken, defeated…dead. Tears rolled down her eyes, and she felt the vampire wrap his arms around her. She pushed him away.

“Leave me alone!” she cried, but he followed her and held her again.

“Did I upset you, my love?” he sneered.

“I AM NOT YOUR LOVE!” she cried, “YOU…YOU ARE FILTH! YOU AND EVERYTHING ASSOCIATED WITH YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT…”

She bent over and put her face in her hands. Her head felt as if it was about to split open. She now knew that pain that Harry endured each time his scar throbbed.

Used to endure. Had throbbed.

“Your head pains you,” he said to her, and she stared at him intently.

“How do you know?” she asked, and he laughed.

“The hunger always causes us headaches,” he answered her, and she gawked at him. He didn’t mean that? It couldn’t be.

“What do you mean by “us?” she asked.

“You and me and our kind,” he said.

No.

“Am I…are you saying that…” she stuttered, and he moved his hand over his mouth to silence her.

“You are becoming a vampire,” he said to her, “And soon, after a couple more of my feedings, it will not matter to you that Harry Potter is dead. You will no longer recall being a mortal…and the darkness will enter your heart. And you will embrace it. Welcome to the other side of the world, Hermione Granger…the side that dominates now.”

Her legs gave way and she fell into him. The world was erased, and unconsciousness swooped in upon her.