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I’m too brain-dead to think of some witty comment. Move along.

I don’t own Harry Potter. I just own the plot and whatever unusual quirks that vampires have.

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Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Hermione stirred in her sleep. Groaning as she cracked one eye open, she heard a faint rhythmic thumping from the story above her, like someone stomping their feet around the house.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

After putting on a pair of sweat pants and vainly trying to tame her wild hair, she walked upstairs to figure out what was making the sound. She followed the thumping as it got louder, and she could feel the floor vibrating beneath her feet. She reached a door where the sound was loudest, and it sounded less like a thump and more like a muffled boom. She hesitantly twisted the doorknob and cracked the door open.

Inside, she saw Harry casually send a twisting jab at a training dummy, and with a loud bang, it was thrown back and shattered. An equally casual right-handed upward swish later, and the mannequin had repaired itself, only to be obliterated again seconds later. The amazing thing was, Harry was doing it all silently. Harry seemed to notice her presence, as he repaired the training dummy one last time before setting his wand down.

“You can come in, you know,” he said casually as he sat down on a chair in the corner of the room. Hermione walked into the room and silently sat down in the chair next to him.

“When could you do nonverbal magic so well, Harry?” she asked, knowing full well how Harry had struggled with the subject the year before. Harry just shrugged in confusion.

“I don’t know; I was reading something and I got hungry, so I summoned myself a drink. A couple of minutes later, I realized I didn’t say anything, so I tried to levitate a book without speaking, and it worked. So I spent the past couple of hours practicing my nonverbal magic, and it all seems…different.” Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion.

“What do you mean by ‘different?’” she asked. Again, Harry shrugged.

“I don’t know. It’s like last year, my mind was completely jumbled, and I just couldn’t do much of anything, but now, everything seems so clear that I feel like such an idiot for not figuring it out sooner.” Hermione seemed lost in thought for a moment before grabbing Harry’s wand and handing it to him.

“Can you show me more?” she asked. Harry just waved his wand to make a chair on the other side of the room, and flicked his wand towards him to slowly make the chair drift over until it was in front of them, where it gently dropped to the floor and Harry propped his feet on it, grinning smugly. Hermione just stuck her tongue out childishly at him, and they both laughed until Hermione’s stomach interrupted them with hungry rumbling.

“I guess we should go make breakfast,” Harry chuckled. Hermione chuckled sheepishly as they walked downstairs into the kitchen. Harry grabbed eggs, tomatoes and green onions while Hermione put a pan on the stove and pulled out a knife. While Harry cracked the eggs, Hermione was chopping the vegetables.

“Ouch! Damn it!” Harry heard Hermione gasp, and he spun around to see her clutching her thumb, and a drop of blood on the knife she was using. “Just give me a second, Merlin that hurts.” Still clutching her thumb, she ran over to the sink and ran it under water, sighing in relief. “Harry, could you wash the knife for me please?”

“Okay,” Harry said, picking up the knife. He looked at the droplet of blood on the blade, and a wave of hunger coursed through him. He looked up and saw that Hermione was still tending to her wounded digit. She’s not looking, what harm could it do, he though as he wiped the blood off the blade and sucked it off of his finger. Harry walked over to the sink and started wiping the blade in soapy water when he was struck by a memory.

He was sitting in a man’s lap, and was very young, no older than four or five. The man had curly brown hair and blue eyes, and was reading a book to him.

This is my favorite story, Daddy,” Harry said, but his voice was very high pitched, even for a little child.

That’s good, sweetheart,” “Daddy” said, kissing Harry on the top of the head.

I love you, Daddy.”

I love you too, Hermione.”

Suddenly, Harry snapped back into reality, a rag in one hand, a half-cleaned knife in the other. He turned his head to see that Hermione had found the first-aid kit and was currently taping a piece of gauze to her thumb. Shaking his head, Harry cleaned and rinsed the knife before returning to the kitchen counter.

“Maybe I should keep a hold of this knife, missy,” Harry said teasingly. “You might hurt yourself again.” Hermione snorted as she grabbed a fork and began beating the eggs. Five minutes later, Hermione was eating an omelet with toast while Harry sat out of her field of vision, sipping a container of pig’s blood, pondering what happened earlier. How had he gotten one of Hermione’s memories? Was it from drinking her blood? Harry shook his head; this was something he could ponder later.

After breakfast, Hermione went to the library to study up on the Fidelius charm, while Harry went to the training room to practice some more nonverbal magic. Two hours later, Hermione knocked on the door, and Harry ceased his assault by water jet on the poor battered training dummy.

“I know how to do it, but because of our situation, you need to learn it too,” she said, holding the relevant book. “How it’s done is the caster asks the secret keeper if he’ll protect the location of whatever they’re trying to hide, but in this case, since you’re the secret keeper, only you can say the address in full, which is what’s required, which means that you have to do the ritual.” Harry sighed.

“I didn’t see that part when I found it, but okay,” he said as he opened the book and started reading the relevant passages. A few hours and wand movement perfections later, and they were ready to begin. They sat in the sitting room with a gold plate and knife lay on a table with three white candles lit around it.

Hermione picked up the knife and pricked her finger with it and dropped one, two, three drops of blood onto the plate, and it took all that Harry had not to grab the piece of metal and lick the blood clean off. With a hint of lamentation, Harry waved his wand and watched as the three drops caught fire.

“Do you, Hermione Jane Granger, so vow to hold the location of 12 Grimmauld Place within you until your dying breath?” he asked, as rehearsed.

“I do,” Hermione said mechanically.

“Do you so vow to withhold the secret from those who would wish harm, and share it only to those of utmost confidence?” Harry recited.

“I do.” Harry gulped at the next question.

“Do you so vow to protect those who would dwell within your secret, even under pain of death?”

“I do.”

“So mote it be.” Waving his wand to make a lazy infinity sign in the air, Harry began to chant the final portion of the charm. “Reus ut specialis, reus ut fides. Reus ut specialis, reus ut fides. Reus ut specialis, reus ut fides.” The air hummed as an unearthly wind blew Hermione’s hair around as she glew faintly golden. After several seconds, the wind snuffed out the flames and disappeared, and Hermione’s glow faded away. Suddenly, Harry looked around in confusion.

“Where are we, Hermione?” he asked, confused. He knew that he came here yesterday, but he couldn’t remember the address for the life of him. Strangely, Hermione just grinned at him.

“Excellent, it worked then.” Then she leaned over to him and whispered softly into his ear. “You can find sanctuary at 12 Grimmauld Place.” A feeling of revelation coursed through Harry and he realized that the Fidelius charm was renewed.

A few hours later, Harry was reading a book in the Black library when he noticed that Hermione had left her seat at the table. Setting his book down, he looked around the house, and he eventually found her looking through his clothes.

“I haven’t been stealing your knickers, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Harry said, his eyebrow cocked. Hermione shot up and plastered an innocent smile on her face, shoving the drawer closed. “Any particular reason as to why you were looking through my clothes drawer?” Hermione looked down as her face turned pink in embarrassment.

“I was going to get you some clothes for your birthday, but I realized that I didn’t know your measurements.” They both started laughing at that point.

“If you wanted that, you could have just asked,” Harry said between chuckles. “I wear size 26-30 pants, a men’s medium shirt and size 9-1/2 shoes.”

“I didn’t ask you because it was meant to be a surprise,” Hermione muttered, still blushing. Harry walked over and draped his arm over her shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “As long as you don’t go through my underwear drawer, all is good.” This time, Hermione cocked her eyebrow.

“Oh? Is there something you’re hiding from me, Mister Potter?” she asked coyly. If Harry could blush, he would have, but instead he settled for a flat “No.” Hermione laughed and pinched Harry’s cheek. “Oh, you know I’m only teasing you, Harry.” Harry said nothing and merely pouted.

Later that night, they Apparated into Diagon Alley, which at that hour was largely abandoned. Hermione walked into Madam Malkin’s right before closing, while Harry hung around nervously outside, looking for anyone who could recognize him, as well as any Death Eaters. Half an hour later, Hermione came out with a large box under her arm. When they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place, she gave Harry the box.

“Happy belated birthday, Harry,” she said before walking out.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked. Trying not to blush, Hermione turned around and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“If you wanted me to see you half-naked, Potter, all you had to do was ask,” she said teasingly. It took a moment for Harry to figure out what she said, and by then she ran off laughing. Rolling his eyes, he opened the box to see several articles of black cloth and leather, with a note on top of it.

Happy belated birthday, Harry!

I hope that the clothes are to your liking. I would have gotten them sooner, but I didn’t know your measurements and have been kind of busy lately.

The shirt and pants are made out of Acromantula silk. The rest are made of Hungarian Horntail hide, dyed black, obviously. Both materials have shielding charms that will block most spells and curses, and are tear-resistant. They are also charmed to repel dirt and dust, so they don’t get dirty.

The wand holster also has anti-summoning charms on it, and is invisible to all but the wearer.

You can never get too much protection.

Love,

Hermione.

Harry chuckled at the practicality of the gift, and began to strip down to his socks and underwear before putting on his battle gear.

Five minutes later, he finished lacing his boots and transfigured a chair into a full-length mirror and was impressed by what he saw. He was wearing a dragon hide vest over his shirt, and had dragon hide leg guards and a belt tied onto his pants, as well as dragon hide boots. He also wore dragon hide gloves and a dragon hide trench coat that went almost down to his ankles. All in all, Harry thought he looked rather intimidating. He stepped out to find Hermione reading in the library and knocked on the table to get her attention.

“Well, how do I look?” he asked, twirling around. Giggling, she walked over to him and straightened out his coat.

“Intimidating,” she said. “Spray paint a skull on your chest, and you’ll look like the Punisher.” Harry’s expression turned from gleeful to blank when Hermione made the reference. “It’s an old American comic book. One of the characters dressed a lot like you are now.” Harry nodded, still not quite understanding it but accepting Hermione’s word on it. “You remember that the wedding is tomorrow, right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “They probably would delay it for us, but…we need to see them sometime, we can’t keep my…condition from them forever.” Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “We’ll go tomorrow night.”

“Okay,” Hermione said.

At eight ‘o clock the next night, Harry was dressed in his new clothes that Hermione got him, while Hermione dressed in a green sweater and jeans. Concentrating on the back yard of the Burrow, they spun around and Apparated with a crack. But when he opened his eyes, Harry found himself in the middle of a battlefield, and Hermione nowhere to be found.

“Hermione!” he shouted as he shot stunners at the Death Eaters. “Hermione, where are you?”

“I’m outside the grounds!” he heard her shout. “There’s an anti-apparation ward up!”

“Damn it,” Harry swore to himself as he banished a Death Eater away from him, knocking his head against a table. Harry turned around to see a Death Eater revive his stunned companion. Okay, stunners are out, time for something a bit more destructive, Harry thought, sending a silent reducto to them, smashing the ground beneath them and sending them flying. Harry heard a blood-curdling scream and he spun around to see Ginny Weasley being held under the cruciatus curse by none other than Bellatrix Lestrange. Upon seeing her, Harry was filled with rage and ran towards her, tackling her and breaking the spell.

“Looks like wee baby Potter’s gone Muggle on us,” Bellatrix cooed in her annoying baby voice, cackling madly. Her laughing was immediately traded with a look of horror when Harry hissed, baring his fangs.

“Wee baby Potter’s got a few new tricks up his sleeve,” he snarled, pulling her head back to expose her neck. Panicking, Bellatrix shot him with the first spell she could think of.

Avada kedavra!” she screamed, but the green spell impacted his chest uselessly. Ignoring the attack, he bent down and bit down on Bellatrix’s jugular, reveling in the tangy, metallic taste as it poured down his throat.

As he drank, memories flashed through his mind. Images of being endlessly doted upon as a child, making fun of and beating other children, of torturing other students during Hogwarts, and of torturing and killing wizards and Muggles alike under Voldemort’s rule.

As Harry stood up and wiped his mouth, he looked around to see Death Eaters Apparating away, and Hermione popped beside him, before looking at Bellatrix’s corpse and gasping in horror. Harry looked up to see the Weasley and Delacour family looking at him in shock and horror. Feeling a hint of shame in his heart, he prepared to Apparate away when several cracks were heard behind him.

“Freeze!” a voice yelled. “Drop your wand and get put your hands up, right now!” Ignoring the auror’s voice, Harry just Apparated back into the master bedroom of Grimmauld Place and ran into the bathroom. He ran the water and rinsed his hands and face of the blood, but could not help but feel dirty about what had happened. Properly cleaned, he crawled into a corner of the room and started crying softly.

For a moment, Hermione was too shocked to move, but she quickly realized that Harry was probably tearing himself up about this, and prepared to Apparate when a voice called her.

“Hermione!” a voice shouted. She turned around to see Mrs. Weasley standing, tears in her eyes. “Where are you going?”

“To help Harry,” she said simply. “He needs me now.” Before anyone could respond, she spun around and disappeared with a crack. When she reappeared in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, she started looking through the places that he would most likely be. The library? Nothing. The training room? Still nothing. She tried the master bedroom, and found it locked. She pressed her ear to the door and heard quiet sobbing on the other side.

“Harry, can you let me in?” she asked, knocking on the door. The sobbing quieted and a few seconds later, the door swung open, tear streaks running down Harry’s pale cheeks. They just stared at each other wordlessly before he stepped aside to allow her entry. When she stepped inside, she carefully wrapped her arms around Harry and pulled him close.

“I killed her,” he whispered hoarsely. “I killed someone.” When the tears returned, Hermione could do nothing but pull him down onto the floor and rub his back soothingly.

“Harry, she deserved it. In killing her, you saved hundreds of innocent lives. You acted on your impulses, as usual.” This just made him sob harder.

“How? How can you stand to be near me? Near a monster?” She lifted his head up so that she could see his face.

“Harry, look at me. You’re not a monster. Would you bite me? Or Ron, or Professor Lupin, or any of your friends?” Sniffling, Harry shook his head weakly. “You’re a good person, Harry, and you can control this.”

“That’s not the only thing,” Harry whispered. “When I was feeding, I saw her memories. I saw everything that she had ever did. I know I didn’t do it, but I can’t help but feel as if it’s a part of me now, and I’m scared. I’m scared of what I’ve turned into.”

“You’ll be okay, Harry,” Hermione cooed soothingly, kissing the top of Harry’s head softly. “You’ll be okay.” Several hours later, after all of his tears had been cried, they drifted to sleep there, leaning on the wall in each other’s arms.

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Now we know what happens when vampires drink human blood. One question answered.

I still want to know what you think the vampire genesis is, as it seems I won’t be revealing it for a while.

Don’t forget to read and review!

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