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A/N: I'm Back... FINALLY! I'm so eternally sorry that it took me all of eternity to update!

PLEASE REVIEW!!! i'm having such horrible writer's block its just unfair! so if you have ANY ideas, please share them with me! ***PLEASE***

disclaimer: if i owned Harry Potter I would have added this to the actual books (obviously)

{previously}: When Hermione felt like she had made a deep enough impression she pulled away, looked at Potter’s dumbstruck face, and gave him the most evil grin she could muster. She whispered seductively in Draco’s ear, “Good bye ‘Mione. Hello Hermione, vampiress of Hogwarts,” and then led him out onto the cold Hogwarts grounds.


“That was quite an act you put on back there,” Draco commented, as he and Hermione walked along the freshly shoveled path across the Hogwarts grounds. 

“Yea,” Hermione agreed quietly.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned kindly, noticing the hint of sadness in her voice.

“N—nothing,” she tried to say off hand while trying not to let him hear her sniffle.

“Is it really nothing?” he coaxed her, rubbing her arm affectionately from behind

“N—no,” she started, trying not to let him see her cry.

“It’s okay. I’m sure it is,” he whispered soothingly into her ear, as he pulled her in closer.

Tears welled up behind her eyes, as she listened to what he was saying. Stopping, she looked up into his blue gray eyes, but almost immediately looked down, for she could not bear to think that he was looking into the same stony ones, that were now her own.

“It’s going to be okay,” he repeated, but not sounding so sure of it himself.

“No,” she replied in a stronger, angrier voice than before. “Everything is not okay,” she broke free of his gentile touch.

“Excuse me?” he asked perplexed.

“Ever since you bit me things have been horrible. I look like a freak, I lost my best friends—”

“Hey, you did that on your own,” he defended.

Glaring at him with a ‘don’t-you-even-start-with-me’ look, she continued, as she wiped away a few salty tears, “—I’ve lost all self dignity, I’m walking around like a slut, and now I’m going into the bloody forest to hunt Merlin knows what,” she finished hysterically.

“Don’t you dare start blaming me for all your problems,” he began with a whisper, venom in his voice, mirroring his crystal eyes. “Don’t you dare… I did not inflict any of this upon you. You knew perfectly well what you were getting into when you let me kiss you the other night.”

“Oh, really,” she responded, her voice equally as venomous now. “I don’t recall you ever telling me that you were going to bite me, suck my blood and turn me into a bloody vampire before I let you kiss me!” she finished staring daggers at him.

“Well, why’d you let me kiss you in the first place!” he screamed.

She stared at him, tears still streaming down her face, a pout upon her lips, venom in her eyes. She seemed to be recalling why she let him kiss her now. She suddenly remembered why she had been so upset.


Hermione was making her way down the dark Hogwarts halls, making her usual rounds as Head Girl. Strolling light-heartedly down the fourth floor corridor, reminiscing her and Harry’s blissful day together. They were having a snowball fight in the freshly fallen snow, the first snow of the season, and the last day before Harry, Ron, and Ginny would leave for the Burrow. They had laughed and giggled, chucking snowballs at Ron and Ginny until their fingers grew numb.

Hermione smiled inwardly at their playful antics, remembering how carefree she felt with Harry. ‘I love the snow,’ she thought to herself. It had always brought her joy, especially this year, the year she and Harry finally started going out. It was like a dream come true. It seemed like every time she was with him, everything just turned out perfectly. Her worries would just melt away.

She kept daydreaming, only vaguely aware of her surroundings, until she heard a high girlish giggle coming from an empty classroom. ‘Great! Another couple making out,’ she groaned inwardly and started off toward the room she guessed they were concealing themselves in. She walked quietly up to the door and heard the laughter once again. ‘I hate this part!’ she thought, as she reached for the handle. She then proceeded to open the door quickly, and started to recite the usual lecture she said to couples in empty rooms or closets. “Please, take your displays of affection to a more appropriate place and in a more appropriate manner,” she began dully, not even looking at the couple in front of her, but upon hearing a rather large gasp, snapped her head up.
In front of her very own eyes was her best friend Ginny, red hair a mess, cascading over her shoulders and down her back; most of her blouse buttons undone and only one shoe on. She looked at her younger friend in a what-the-heck-are-you-doing-I’m-going to-have-to-report-you kind of way. Hermione decided that she could be dealt with and decided to see who the young “gentlemen” was that had been the source Ginny’s affection could possibly be. Her eyes shifted a bit to Ginny’s left (Hermione’s right) and came across a raven-haired boy with emerald eyes sporting round spectacles. She stared at him in shock. ‘Harry! My Harry!’ she thought frantically, her eyes turning from soft to panicked to furious. His own shirt was undone all the way, revealing his strong torso and tight muscle shirt ((I’m not sure what the real thing is called, but many people refer to them as “wife beaters” but that just sounded a bit crass so I’m just gonna call it a muscle shirt)).

Her eyes flashed at Ginny, who looked on the verge of tears.

“I can’t believe you Harry!” Hermione yelled.

“Hermione, let me—” he started.

“—explain,” she finished for him, eyes ablaze. “Explain what! That you’ve been seeing me during the day and then doing God knows what with her at night! I can’t believe you! Either one of you!” she shot at Ginny, just as she was about to say something.


“No Harry! We’re over!” she bellowed, turned and ran as fast as she could back to the heads common room, eyes streaming with tears.

When she finally reached the common room, Hermione slammed herself onto the plush leather couch in front of the ornately decorated fireplace, brought her knees up to her face and began to sob. She had been crying for quite awhile before she heard someone come in through the portrait whole. Her eyes snapped up, and recognized the familiar silhouette of Draco Malfoy

She assumed he was just coming back from his duties, so she allowed herself to bring her head back down to her knees and cry silently. Once she thought he was gone, she began to weep more openly again, letting her whimpering become more prominent as she remembered what her boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend, and best friend had been doing.

She suddenly heard a soft voice from somewhere across the room speak to her gently, “Are you—”

“No, I am not alright, would I be crying if I was?” she snapped.

“Okay,” the voice came slyly, “but I was going to ask you if you were going to use that pillow you were leaning against. Mine got torn up by some cat this morning, and I wanted to go to sleep.”

“Oh,” she said a bit embarrassed. “Here,” she grabbed the pillow that was behind her, and started to walk over where Malfoy was standing. She handed it to him, and was about to walk away when she caught his gleaming eyes.

His silvery eyes gleamed in the moonlight that streamed in through the high east facing windows. They were so mesmerizing, all she wanted to do was gaze into their mystical depths and become lost in them forever. She was drawn to him, but before she could step any closer, he stepped closer, as if reading her mind.

He dropped the pillow from his hand and pulled her in, so that they were mere centimeters from each other. He twisted one arm around her waist and held her firmly. She pulled out of her trance like state and gave him a puzzled look. ‘What the hell is he trying to pull?’ asked the more logical side of her brain, ‘Go with it,’ said the more outgoing side of her brain. Surprisingly she listened, and did not pull away.

She still had that lingering suspicion that he was up to something. “Wha—”

“Shh,” he whispered, bringing a long slender finger to his lips, sweeping her cocoa colored ringlets away from her neck.

‘What the…’ she thought utterly bewildered, but then it dawned on her, ‘oh…wait no…Harry…too soon…can’t…’ “Please,” she finally allowed herself to whisper.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, his hot breath upon her neck. ‘Ohh,’ she closed her eyes and let him kiss her neck, caressing its every curve with his luscious lips.

And it was all down hill from there. Fear. Lies. Kiss. Beautiful eyes. Kiss. Pain. Black.


Hermione was still glaring at Draco, fear and anger behind her once chocolate eyes. The memory of the night before brought more tears to her eyes, gliding swiftly across her pale complexion. How could she trust him? He had just permanently damaged her life, and now she was going to take someone or something’s blood, just like he had done to her. How could she bring that upon someone else, cause them the same pain she herself was going through right now? She didn’t want to be the cause of someone’s pain. ‘No, I won’t do it. I will not ruin someone else’s life. No.’ she told herself. ‘I’ll just ignore the cravings, eat rarer meats. I refuse to inflict this upon one more innocent creature. How could I have come with Draco? Horrible idea Hermione,’ she scolded herself.

She shuffled her feet, and stared down at the black ring on her finger, “This was a bad decision to come with you,” she stuttered, “I can’t—”

“No. Listen to me,” he lifted her head with his thumb and for-finger, forcing her to look into his eyes. “There is no such thing as a bad decision,” he started wisely. “Just different ones. Ones that you are not used to. Ones that scare you because you are not accustomed to them, but listen to me `Mi, do not be afraid of the unknown. Be afraid of the unknowing. Those who are too ignorant to give someone a chance.”

All she could do was stare into his bold eyes, letting her silent tears stream down her face.

“Do you trust me?” he asked in a hushed voice.

She was silent for a moment, her head said ‘NO NO NO’ but somehow she couldn’t tell him ‘no.’ After all, he was the only one that could truly help her. She hardened with determination. “Yes,” she finally brought herself to say.

“Then trust me when I say that everything will be alright.” He wiped a salty tear away from her misty gray eye with his thumb. “Let’s go hunt. You will feel much better once you satisfy your lust.

He offered her his arm and she took it rather reluctantly.

She felt the same hungry feeling once again, the one that she now knew could only be satisfied by the warm taste of blood on her lips. She suddenly felt sharp fangs replace her canines. ‘Blasted,’

“Ahem,” she cleared her throat, making it known that she was about to speak.

“Mmm?” he asked, concentrating on melting the snowy path in front of them.

“Is there anyway to control these bloody fangs?” she asked rather rudely, they were bloody hard to get used to; they hurt the inside of her lips.

“Once you learn to control your cravings you will also learn to suppress the need to bear your fangs,” he stated. They had reached the edge of the Forbidden forest.

“And how do you suppose I go about doing that,” she asked trying to get over a particularly vicious bush of brambles.

“Stop thinking about blood,” he stated simply and then noticing her trouble, smirked and moved the bush away with his wand.

“Thanks,” she thanked quietly walking forward.

“Here, better stay close, these woods are dangerous,” he offered her his arm again.

“I believe we are the ones making that statement true,” she pointed out, taking his arm once again.

“Right,” he smirked even broader, thinking of himself fondly.

‘Arrogant, little arse,’ she thought. She gazed at his stern features, ‘Hmm, that smirks starting to grow on me…hm, who woulduh thought?’

“What?” he questioned noticing she was peering at him. She immediately averted her eyes. The shy Hermione was still lingering a bit.

“Nothing,” she said lightly.


“Soo…” she started, she never was one to take to small talk. “What are we going to…” she trailed, trying to find the right word.

“Hunt?” he helped.

“Yes. Hunt,” she agreed.

“Deer or Thestral, maybe some birds,” he answered moving another bush out of her path.

“Oh, please not Thestral, I’ve gotten rather fond of them, besides Hagrid takes count of them, he’ll know that it was a vampire if he finds the carcass,” she gripped his arm a bit tighter when she went passed the shrub, it seemed to be growling at her.

“Good point, how about deer?”

“That sounds…lovely,” she still didn’t like the fact that she would be taking away its life, but it was either her life or its.

“Okay, well you just stand here,” he unhooked his arm from hers and started rummaging through his pocket, “and watch.”

“Gotcha,” he muttered to himself withdrawing his hand and bringing forth a tiny silver object that looked somewhat like a whistle, but had three little holes, instead of one.

“What’s that?” she asked referring to the tiny whistle.

“It’s a siffler. It creates a very calming little melody that almost hypnotizes the animal you are calling for, in this case a deer, causing them to follow the sweet little hymn,” he explained, pulled out his wand and tapped the siffler, while muttering a short incantation, no doubt telling which animal to call for.

“So you lure it into a false sense of security?”

“Precisely,” he finished casting the spell and brought it to his lips, but waited because he knew that Hermione was about to say something.

“That’s rather ingenious,” she thought aloud, thinking of how much easier it made the job of retrieving blood.

“Quite,” he agreed through the whistle. He then began to blow softly through the air hole in the siffler, and music immediately came pouring out in a melodic pattern. The sweet music was nothing that Hermione had ever heard before. It sounded as if it were coming from miles away, an angelic cry from the woods begging her to come to its side, but at the same time seemed to be so close, as if it were inside her. The siffler produced a divine tune of long sweet notes that drifted through the dark, cold forest. Draco shifted his fingers ever so slightly so a whole new set of notes came forth; Hermione guessed that this was to bring the deer even closer.

Finally the nose of a deer emerged, followed by dull brown eyes, that looked blurred and unfocused. The long slender neck and bodice were just as delicate as its face, as it wobbled out into the tiny clearing that Hermione and Draco were in.

Draco let out one last stream of notes, making the deer slow and then finally stopped, as the siffler grew quiet.

“C’mon,” Draco said quietly, motioning for Hermione to follow him up to the doe. She followed, and observed Draco’s actions carefully. She watched him walk cautiously up to the graceful animal, which seemed to still have a glazed look over its eyes. He petted it affectionately behind the ears, while he leaned closer to its head. At first she thought he was going to bight it right there and then, but then Hermione realized that he was actually whispering something into its tiny ears. It was a beautiful tongue that seemed to role off Draco’s lips, like it was something that was part of him.

As Draco continued to speak the strange language the deer’s eye-lids seemed to get heavier and its legs weaker, until it finally fell over and lay gracefully on the floor legs sprawled out in front of it large body.

“Is it dead?” Hermione asked a bit shocked.

“No, just in a sort of trance. I told it to go to sleep,” Draco explained. “Vampires never feast on the dead. And I should also tell you that you should never take the last drop of blood of anything.”

“Why?” she asked curiously.

“Because if you take its last drop of blood, its death will be replaced by yours. So you will die, and it will live.”

“Oh,” Hermione whispered, trying to grasp the whole concept. “What was that language you were speaking?”

“It’s an ancient language that is only know to vampires. I believe you will acquire the language within the next few days,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“I’ll know a language I haven’t even learned?” she asked confused.


“How does that work?”

“It’s just something that happens when you become a vampire. It’s like,” he pondered, “how fish know how to swim. You just know it,” he explained.

“Hm, I’ve never read that in any book.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have had. It’s only known to the vampire community.”

“Hmm, that is—”but she stopped mid-sentence, for a sharp hunger pierced her stomach. “Ooh,” she gasped, bringing a hand immediately to her abdomen.

Draco looked up at her cool gray eyes and smirked. “Time to drink,” he stated and offered her his hand; she took it and knelt down beside him.

“Now, its not too hard,” he explained. “Bring your fangs to its neck; right here,” he gestured toward the area of its jugular vein, “and press down, so that your fangs break the surface of its necks. You got it?” he walked her through.

“Yes,” she stated confidently.

“Then drink the blood until you are satisfied. I’m going to let you go first so we won’t have to worry about you taking its last drop of blood.”

She listened carefully, every word making her anticipate the taste of blood every second her lips weren’t at the doe’s neck.

“Now, are you ready?”

She nodded her head yes.

“Then, go ahead.”

She carefully set her wand at her side, and let go of Draco’s hand that she had been holding during his whole little speech, and placed her hands delicately on the side of the deer’s neck. Hermione took one last look at Draco, who nodded reassuringly, so she slowly lowered her lips down to its skin. Finally feeling the warm fur on her lips, she closed her eyes, while she gradually opened her mouth, so her fangs could caress the smooth neck of the deer.

Hermione took a sharp intake of breath before she plunged her sharp teeth into the skin of the doe, letting its blood come forth. The red liquid sank into her very lips and filled her mouth. She drank the blood like it was the very air she breathed.

The more she drank, the less she felt that hungry pang deep down in her stomach. Her lust was finally being satisfied.

Taking one last draw of blood, she closed her mouth, and lifted her head away from the, now, bloody neck of the once graceful looking doe. Hermione gazed at the almost limp body of the mammal, but not with sympathy, which would normally be etched in every corner of her face, but with satisfaction. Satisfaction that she had gone on her first hunt. Satisfaction that she had drank from the animals veins. Satisfaction that she had taken her first step in becoming a vampire—accepting what she was, by drinking its blood and not feeling an ounce of remorse about it. She was a vampire, and no one was going to change it—ever.


Well?? What'd you think?? is the pic too much? they're mine (the eyes that is)... they're supposed to be hermione's... : D

Almost forgot! The “there’s no such thing as a bad decision, only different ones” is from the book A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Brey! But the rest is purely me, well except the whole fact that JKR owns the setting and the characters and pretty much everything else that you don’t recognize from any of the wonderful 7 HP books!!!!

Special thanks to
**Tonksz_patronus** for being the FIRST to review that actual story



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