Hermione Granger had always considered herself a logical, sensible person. Every problem had to have a sane and sensible (logical, if you will) solution. Life would just be complete chaos otherwise. It is, of course, very easy to apply this theory with the calm, clear-headedness required when it is someone else’s problem to be solved. Unfortunately, it is not so easy when the problem is your own.
Hermione had spent the first few months after becoming a vampire trapped in a vortex of what felt like hundreds of emotions until all she wanted to do was scream. Not the satisfying scream that lets off pent-up emotion, but the kind of constant, earsplitting, getting-you-a-private-room-in-St-Mungo’s scream. Fear, anger, despair, and of course, a constant level of panic swirled around inside her. The panic was the worst. It was the one thing that could do what Hermione feared above all: it turned her impressively intelligent brain to pure mush. At this stage, it was what she could afford the least.
Hermione climbed onto her bed, pulling the heavy drapes closed as the first ray of sunlight crept over the windowsill. “Damn,” she thought. “I didn’t close my window curtains properly. Now I have to be extra careful with the drapes around my bed.” The sight of that lonely ray of light suddenly ignited the fire of fury inside her. How pathetic that she wasn’t even able to close her own curtains! She was useless, hopeless and utterly deplorable. She was trapped in these rooms with nothing to do but research, and she had still made no progress. But even she, the newest idiot of the century should have remembered to close those bloody curtains for her own safety! The huge mound of books piled next to next to her began to dwindle as she hurled them around the room in a childish tantrum. Finally, when there were no books left, Hermione flopped back onto her pillows. Her anger having cooled sufficiently, she regretted her foolish fit. Now there was nothing to occupy her mind. Just the memories…..
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After Lord Voldemort’s defeat, his Death Eaters had scattered to the wind. Many had been captured, but several were still on the loose. Their attacks on innocents were just as frightening as when the Dark Lord had been alive. As Hermione, Harry, Ron and Ginny were of age and an integral part of the Order, they were enlisted to help flush out these bands of marauding psychopaths and cold-blooded killers.
Hermione and Ron had been assigned to the Transylvanian mountains where a group of Death Eaters had been spotted. The day before the stake-out, Ron had been hit hard in the head during the last Quidditch match of the season. The mission was cancelled. No member of the Order was to go on a Death Eater patrol alone, and there just weren’t enough members to assign anyone else. Hermione was devastated. This was to have been her chance to show everyone that she was more than just a little girl with book smarts and cleverness. She knew what she had to do. She never was one for breaking the rules, but this was an opportunity she could not pass up. She would complete the mission on her own.
Gathering her thickest cloak, her wand and her flagging courage, she set off for the icy winds of Transylvania. Settling herself among the bushes and trees growing at the base of the cliff, Hermione knew this was one of her more stupid ideas. The castle was looming above her, like a predator about to pounce. She knew she was imagining it, but that fortress reminded her sharply of the book Dracula.
Looking up at the castle, remembering all the tales about the dangers of the night, Hermione was not aware of the presence behind her until it was too late. Someone grabbed her roughly by her hair, pulling her towards them with the other arm around her waist like a steel band. Before Hermione could even draw a breath to cry out, her head was yanked hard to the left. She could feel cold, cruel lips on her neck. The scream that started in her throat died to a wavering sigh as cold, pointed teeth pierced her delicate skin. Hermione could feel the strength leaving her limbs, but beyond that, it felt like her very soul was being drawn through those two punctures in her neck. Sorrow and regret filled her. She had never really told Harry and Ron that she loved them, that they were her brothers, her family. They didn’t even know where she was. Then there was that other person she would never see again. A throb of emotion washed over her at the thought. Her torturer hissed as if burned and dropped her like a stone. As Hermione lay on the cold, hard ground, looking up at the thing that had destroyed her life, her future, tears welled up and spilled onto the dust.
“Tears, Mudblood?” jeered her tormentor. “Well, well. I thought it might be fun to end it right now, however… Yes, I think it may just be a perfect fitting for the friend of The Chosen One”
The creature leaned over Hermione, rolling up its sleeve. With one long fingernail, it trailed a long red gash down its wrist. Holding Hermione’s mouth open, it let a few drops of its blood drip onto her tongue.
“Swallow, Mudblood whore. Eternal life, eternal darkness, eternal damnation!”
The evil cackle of the fiend echoed off the cliff face. Hermione lay in a huddled heap on the icy earth. Darkness swirled around her in sickening waves, crashing and receding, only to repeat again. Finally, she gave in and let the velvet darkness cover her.
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Sick. Oh, how she felt sick. This queasiness was not something she had ever experienced before. Slowly, Hermione opened her eyes, but shut them immediately as the pain shot through her head. She was lying on something rather uncomfortable, somewhere rather draughty, but she wasn’t cold at all. How very strange. Suddenly, everything came back. The cold, the fiend… Her death.
But she wasn’t dead. Forcing her eyes open, Hermione made herself look around. She was lying in a cave. Huge green speckled stalagmites and stalactites emerged from the dark like huge jaws, waiting to devour her.
Hermione sat up carefully, her foot brushing something soft and furry. A rat. A dead rat, lying there at her feet, like some macabre offering. Hermione licked her lips. It was still warm, as if it had just been killed. The sight of those ruby red drops of blood was suddenly more enticing to her than a lifelong supply of chocolate. It was something she could not resist…
It was over before she could think about it. Hermione stared down at the limp and lifeless pile of fur that had been her first feasting. She had done it, completed the ritual and willingly drank blood. There was no way to stop it now. She was a vampire.
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Hermione Granger was not called the brightest witch of her age for nothing. Her brain absorbed knowledge like a thirsty Thestral. Despite her friends’ teasing, she knew her knowledge was her power. She just never thought she would be proved correct in this way. She had done a great deal of reading about vampires; she thought they were fascinating. Thus she found herself uniquely equipped to prepare herself.
She found the cave she had woken up in to be strangely comforting. The ceilings sloped up into the silken darkness, where odd squeaks and flapping noises hinted at nocturnal companions. Situated high up along the Transylvanian slopes, her new home was far enough from human settlements for Hermione’s mind to be at rest. When the hunger took her, there seemed no way to control herself. There was one promise to herself she was determined to keep: she would not hurt another human, nor drink human blood.
Her choices were minimal. There was plenty of animal life on the mountain: rabbits, little deer and squirrels. The problem was, even if they came out at night (which they did not), Hermione could not bring herself to feast on such adorable creatures. This left her with one option: rats.
At first, Hermione stayed within the relative comfort and safety of her cave-haven, leaving only to hunt when the need became too unbearable. After a few days Hermione began to test her magic. It seemed that becoming a vampire did not affect most of one’s powers. She could still Apparate, but she dared not investigate the state of her spell casting. She knew it would attract the notice of the Ministry. Her one true asset failed her. She could not think of what to do. No plan came to her, no ideas formed, nothing. She knew the how much the wizarding world feared and mistrusted vampires. There was no way to contact any of her friends “ not that she would anyway. As far as they were concerned, she had disappeared completely. She would not be a burden to them because of her stupidity.
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The bleak, piercing wind raged through the forbidden forest, ripping through the twisted branches, causing them to rattle like the bones of a skeleton.
A dark shape passed along the roadside, keeping close to the deeper shadows at the verge. At the gates, the cloaked figure paused, drawing its hood closer around its face.
Hermione raised her eyes, staring up at the building that had been her home, the windows glowing like jewels in the night. Tears burned the back of her eyes; this was the last time she would ever be at Hogwarts.
“It’s a terrible night to be out and about. Are you waiting for someone?”
Startled, Hermione whirled around at the sound of the familiar Scottish brogue, the hood of her cloak falling back from her face.
“Hermione? Oh, Hermione my dear!” Professor McGonagall snatched Hermione into her arms, hugging her tightly. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!” The professor stepped away, surveying the younger woman, taking in her pale face and hollowed cheeks, the sudden tears brimming in her eyes.
“Oh, Professor, it’s all my fault! I knew I shouldn’t, but I did. And now… And now…” Hermione broke off, brutal sobs racking her body.
“Come, my dear. I think you and I need to talk.”
Once they were safely ensconced in McGonagall’s office, the older woman sat Hermione near the fire. Again, she noticed the drastic changes to her ex-student. She had only been missing a few weeks. What could have happened in that time?
She sat in silence while Hermione recited her tale in a monotone, never once looking at the Professor. When she was through, she sat in still, staring at the swirls in the carpet, her hair forming a curtain to hide her face from the other’s scrutiny.
“Well,” said McGonagall. “Well, I don’t condone what you did, young lady. It was irresponsible and rash, not to mention utterly foolish! However, what is done is done. I am not going to harp on it. The only thing to do now is find a solution.”
Hermione’s head jerked up, the haunted eyes searching her mentor’s face. “You… You’re not going to send me away? You are willing to help me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I’m not sending you away. We will have to make arrangements, but I don’t see why you can’t stay in the castle. Why are you looking at me like that, young lady? You will be perfectly safe here.”
“It’s not my safety I’m worried about, Professor. It is for the students and teachers. There are too many temptations for someone… like me.” The bubble of hope Hermione had been floating on popped, leaving her more despondent than before.
“Do you not think I would put the safely of every person in this castle first? No Miss Granger, I have a plan! We happen to have a wing in this castle, a very special wing off the North Tower. It is hardly ever used. I think it will be perfect. Yes, Miss Granger,” she inserted when she could see Hermione about to interrupt. “There are wards on that wing that will keep the students out, and you in. These wards also extend to the grounds. You will therefore only have access to your chambers and the Forbidden Forest. Plenty of little pests out there for you to hunt. You will also have access to the library, by special Floo, only at night, of course. We are going to need all your remarkable research skills to find a cure, my dear.”
Hermione had sat, staring goggle-eyed at the Headmistress. Finally, finally, there was a light at the end of this dark, terrifying tunnel. Someone was willing to help her out of the disaster her life had become.
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Now, nearly six months later, lying in her comfortable bed with the curtains shut against the invading light, Hermione regretted her earlier fit of temper. Not only did she now not have anything to do, but she was wasting valuable research time. In the months she had been in these chambers, she had discovered nothing new. It was so frustrating.
With a mental shrug, Hermione stretched out on her bed, drawing the covers over her. At least she could use this extra time to get some much-needed sleep.
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Severus Snape stalked through the halls of Hogwarts. Severus Snape always stalked through the halls of Hogwarts. It seemed to inspire more fear if one stalked, rather than just walked or even strode. It also made his robes billow in a satisfyingly ominous way.
Snape enjoyed stalking through said hallways in the early hours of the morning. It was when he was most unlikely to meet anyone else. It was also when the nightmares tended to be worse. But he would not think about that. He didn’t sleep much in any case.
Severus prided himself on his extensive knowledge of the castle, from the highest turret, to the lowest dungeon and passageway. He probably knew more about this structure than Black and his cronies had ever dreamed of.
There was something lately about his castle home that was niggling at the back of his mind. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He headed towards the North Tower. He hadn’t been there for quite a few months. As he neared the entry to the tower, he was suddenly struck with the urge to go back to the dungeons. Turning away, it was as if a light had suddenly gone on in his brain. That was why he had not been up the tower for so long. Every time he neared the turret stairway, he had a sudden impulse to go somewhere else.
Returning to the tower, Severus pulled out his wand, waving it at the stairway portal. Ah, yes. Some very sophisticated wards were in place. So complicated and complex that even he had not been able to detect them. For a while, at least. Someone was keeping something in or out of that tower, and Severus was determined to find out just what exactly it was.
The wards came down slowly, but at last Severus had brought down the final one. Mounting the steps quickly but silently, Severus ascended the tower. At the very top of the turret was a heavy, studded wooden door. Surprisingly it was unlocked. His heart beating slightly faster than normal, he pushed open the door.
The room he entered could have passed for any bedroom in the castle, except for the thick velvet drapes that were pulled closed across the window, causing the room to be almost as dark as night, except for the thin sliver of light that stole between the two curtains. Matching drapes where also shut tightly around the immense four-poster bed. Books lay around the room, as if thrown about in a fit of temper. Carefully, Severus made his way to the bed. He had come this far, and he was not going back without knowing what warranted such heavy guards.
Severus gently parted the material, pulling it open quietly, drawing in a deep breath as he did so. Whatever he had expected to find, it was not the sleeping form of one Miss Hermione Granger. The same Hermione Granger who had been missing for the last six months. Severus looked down at the slumbering girl. She was very pale, even in this weak light he could see that. He also noticed how thin she was. Was she ill? He suddenly noticed just how still she was. In fact, she did not even seem to be breathing, her chest failing to rise and fall. A cold chill swept over him. Severus leaned forward and laid a finger along her cheek. She was cold to the touch. With mounting trepidation he brought his hand to her neck. Not even a pulse.
Hermione Granger was dead.
Walking in Darkness by shadow_ks
Chapter Notes: Hermione's memory wanders back...
Thanks to Charmed3 and Lumiere for beta-ing this. A very special thanks to my supporter and biggest fan, G.