VIII

VIII

"You don't mind, do you, Severus?" Hermione asked, holding the leather bound journal she had found the day before. She had sat by his side most of the night, sleepless and thirsty. He warned that he may have to leave her soon, to replenish their store of blood. She had already had several pints since her birth, much more than a mature one of their kind would need to survive a week.

Severus raked his eyes over the volume in her lap, remembering each experience he had recorded on those yellowed pages. The last forty years of his existence flashed through his mind in a fraction of a second. "No, love, of course not. What is mine is yours now, Hermione. You may help yourself to anything in my quarters that you desire."

He took a deep breath, remembering the scent of her that permeated the air around her before he had bitten her. The sound of footsteps echoed in his thoughts, drawing his attention away from her. "The headmaster is coming, and he is bringing Minerva with him. Go and drink as much as you can. Quickly, before they get here. It is the only way you will be able to stand having them in the room. Go! Now!"

Hermione's movement was a blur as she raced from the room with graceful steps. She removed several pints from the cooler behind the pile of books in the study and grabbed a bowl on her way to the bedroom. It seemed as if the action took only seconds as she bounded onto the bed, landing lightly on the balls of her feet in the middle. She dropped to her knees and began filling the bowl. The sound of the blood sloshing into the bowl overwhelmed all other noise, the smell overpowering all other scent. She drank greedily, one pint after another, tiny rivulets running red over her chin, until she felt as if she might burst from it.

Voices echoed clearly from the room where Severus remained. She could distinguish the sound of their heartbeats; Dumbledore's being the more sluggish of the two. It was obvious to her enhanced senses that the old man did not have much longer. More than the sound of their voices or their heartbeats, the smell of their blood encircled her senses and made her stomach turn. She understood now why Severus made her feed before they arrived. If she had been thirsty when they walked in the door, she would have drank them dry in a fraction of a second.

His voice came through the haze filling her sated brain. "Hermione, please come in her whenever you feel up to it," Severus said quietly, knowing she would hear even the lowest of whispers.

She sprung from the bed, her motions lithe and beautiful as she seemed to move from the bedroom to the sitting room in the blink of an eye. Her new eyes took in the astonishing frailness of the headmaster and her Head of House. They looked suddenly dry and brittle, standing on bones that were all too easily crushed into dust.

"Please, stay where you are," she said, holding up her hand to stop them from crossing the room. "I may have just fed, but it is not a good idea to come too near me."

Professor Dumbledore took in the form of the creature that had once been the girl Hermione Granger. Her complexion was pale white, making the deep walnut tones in her hair stand out. This, too, had changed. Curls that had once been bushy and unruly now fell like glossy silk down her back. She moved with lithe grace and ethereal surety. Her eyes, perhaps, held the most signs of her change. Their once milk chocolate depths now echoed with the multitude of hues that existed in the spectrum. Irises that used to glow with warmth and humanity now glittered with an ebony wariness. Hermione's features remained much the same, only tinted with a haunted, angelic beauty.

"Miss Granger, I do not fear you," said the headmaster, arranging the shock on his face into a vague concern. He took a sure step forward, undeterred by the snarl that rumbled through Snape's chest or the exasperated hiss from Hermione. "What humanity you carried in life is somewhere inside of you. I am certain you will not hurt me."

It happened so quickly that Dumbledore couldn't put together the movements that led to his current predicament. Hermione stood behind him; one hand pulling his head backwards while the other pulled his chin to the side. The smell of his blood made her stomach turn, and the grinding of his brittle bones grated on her nerves.

"Not hurt you?" she purred, a feral growl hidden just below the surface. "I could snap your neck like I was tearing tissue paper. I could drain you dry before your next breath. How easy it would be for me to rip your throat out, to tear your heart from your chest, to crumple your bones into dust. Don't tempt me, you old fool."

A whisper of wind and a blur later, Hermione was standing beside Snape with her pale hand placed gently on his shoulder. He looked up at her, his black, obsidian eyes softening to liquid brass. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips as her eyes melted to match. "Stay here with me, my darling. No need to put yourself through such discomfort."

She wrinkled her nose. "How do you stand it, Severus?" she asked, leaning her cheek against his and murmuring in his ear. "Their blood smells like dust and rust."

The laugh that erupted from Snape was like the gurgling of a pure, clean waterfall. He placed his hand over hers. "I hardly smell them anymore," he said softly. "I usually stay so 'well-fed' that I ignore the smell entirely. You are the first I have smelled in a long time because I wasn't full Thursday night. As horrible as it may sound, I am glad I neglected my usual precautions. Otherwise, I would not have you here now."

There was softness to his eyes that made her want to sink into the carpet. While her human personality...with all its stubbornness and tenacity...was slowly making its way through the haze of her new creation, there was still an alarming ripple of utter need that ran through her when she looked at him. It made her chest ache with connection, her body convulse in pain at the thought of being separated from him. She was unsure how much of the feeling belonged to her new existence and how much was blooming from some hidden want of him that resided in her human form. Either way, she welcomed the lurch of her stomach as he touched her with his cold hand and looked up at her with his liquid brass eyes.

Professor Dumbledore had finally regained his bearings and stumbled over to where McGonagall still waited by the door. Her lips were set in a severe line and her brows were pulled down in a scowl. "Listen when you are warned of things," she hissed. "Don't just listen, heed them!"

He grumbled and sulked as if he were a chastised child. McGonagall turned back to the couple across the room. "I am sorry if we are causing you discomfort, Miss Granger. We meant only to check on your well-being and to ensure that proper precautions will be taken when you return to the main school tomorrow. I am sure you want to do everything possible to protect your classmates from any mishaps."

Hermione looked up, focusing on the old woman's face for the first time with her new eyes. The face that stared back at her was leathery and worn, gouged with deep wrinkles. Steel-gray eyes looked back with strain and blurred vision. The bones beneath her skin seemed frail and chalky. It unnerved Hermione to see how truly old Minerva McGonagall was; she whom Hermione thought would exist forever as the stern Transfiguration professor.

"We will do everything we can," Severus said quietly. His voice was sure. "She will be thirsty every few hours for the next few days, so she will need to return here once every three hours. As I mentioned to Albus, she cannot go outside. Therefore she will come here during Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Do not expect her to eat during meals, either. That is more trouble than we must put on her shoulders for now."

"She is standing right here," she said playfully. Her wide eyes burned blue as she giggled, a musical sound like a harpsichord. It filled the room and made his eyes tint navy.

"I realize you are," he replied, inwardly glad her human personality was fighting through the blind devotion of the newborn. He wanted her as much as her human self as possible. "These are simply precautions that must be taken to protect everyone."

She smirked. "I can protect myself."

"Of course you can, darling. But can you protect your friends from yourself?" He hated saying those words, to remind them both of the monster she had become. But it was something that must be done. "Please, Hermione, do this for me, and I may be willing to make certain... concessions."

Her eyes blazed black with wariness as the laughter faded into silence. "What kind of concessions?"

So quickly only Hermione was able to see and hear him, Severus was standing beside her and murmuring in her ear. "We can discuss leaving Hogwarts."

Cedric was pacing in front of the doors to the Great Hall. Harry and Ron sat on the stairs, watching him with vague expressions. He was chewing his thumbnail as he paced, staring at the dungeon steps with a mixture of fear and impatience. He jumped at the faintest sound and began mumbling to himself as the minutes dragged by.

A sudden movement in the shadows caught his eye, and his jaw went slack as Hermione appeared out of the dungeon corridor. Severus had taught her a few glamours to help hide the drastic change in her appearance, but she still looked otherworldly to Cedric. Her skin glowed alabaster, her eyes a deeper shade of brown than he remembered, her carriage a bit more sure. She stared at him, her eyes seeming to set his skin on fire, and flashed him a wide smile. His heart stopped at the beauty of it.

"Do you feel better?" he asked, his eyes wide and his voice nervous.

Her dazzling smile widened, and she nodded. "Yes, I do," she said, her voice an octave lower than usual. "Thank you for worrying about me, Cedric. It's very sweet."

"You're welcome, Hermione. Could you eat something?"

Her eyes raked over him, her nostrils flaring at the scent of his blood. She longed to feel the chords of his muscles bunch beneath her fingertips, to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart slow and falter as he succumbed to the change burning through him. It was in that instant, that fraction of a fraction of a second, that she realized that she not only wanted to taste his blood, but she wanted to change him. A strange pull drew her closer to him beyond her will. It was more than the attachment she felt toward Severus, her maker. It was something primal and resolute, something so deep within her that it seemed as if her entire being was entwined with the flesh, blood, and bone that was Cedric Diggory.

"I could, but I shouldn't, not now at least." She knew he wouldn't' understand the double meaning behind her words, but couldn't resist the sweet smell of his warm blood. She swayed slightly, just enough that Cedric reached out to steady her. He caught her by the waist, shuddering at the cold, hardness of her skin. She stared up at him; aware that she had forgotten the drastic change the past few days had wrought on her. Her eyes blinked shut, trying to hide the fact that they had suddenly burned black. She thought furiously, trying to come up with a convincing lie.

Cedric tried to smile as he pulled her nearer and began helping her toward the Great Hall. "Is it very cold in the... dungeons?" he said, trying to drive the image of Snape nursing her out of his mind.

The mention of the dungeon caused her to glance up at the staff table where Snape, her loving maker, sat watching her. "Not really," she mumbled, turning her blue-tinged eyes away from him. "The mosp stung me nearly everywhere, and the welts get cold and hard before they heal."

Cedric nodded absently, trying to whisper his fingers over her skin without her noticing. But her new senses were so alive that she felt the slightest tingle in his nerve endings. She let her eyes drift closed as he ghosted his strong, firm hand over the skin of her back and sides. His blood pounded in her ears, sending a sizzling spark of desire through her. She leaned against him and reached back to entwine her fingers in his hair. He pressed his cheek against hers, less startled now by the cold tingle of her skin. An intoxicating scent rolled off her and filled his brain until it was fogged.

"I was so worried about you, Hermione," he whispered into her ear as he pulled her silken ringlets away from her neck. The scent licked flames across his skin and made his mouth go dry. He traced open-mouthed kisses down the length of her neck, feeling his heart jump into overdrive as the taste of her skin hit his tongue. "God, Hermione, what's happened to you?"

"You don't like it?" she whispered, too lost in the desire and bloodlust rushing through her to realize what she was saying or that they were just outside the doors of the Great Hall.

He inhaled her intoxicating scent once more and traced his fingers quickly over her breasts before tracing the swell of her stomach. "No, I think you're wonderful. Better than wonderful... beautiful, amazing, seductive, addictive. Pick the word you like best, just stay here." He pulled her more tightly against his chest, allowing her to feel the erection growing beneath his robes.

Hermione smiled a feral grin, grinding her hips back against him and fisting her hand in his hair. "Hmm..." she moaned softly. "You do like me."