"Are you scared, Draco?"
The words floated to him, teasing and playful with an underlying danger that both excited and frightened him. The twenty-year old wizard took several calming breaths, needing to have his wits about him before facing his pursuer. He raised his chin and turned to face her, giving her a condescending sneer that he had perfected at the age of ten. Arching a pale brow, he scoffed, "Scared? Why would I be scared of you, Hermione?"
"I can smell it, Draco," Hermione Granger smiled as she walked closer to her prey. Her brown eyes moved over his handsome face and muscular body, desire spreading over her, hunger moving her closer. She had been playing with the blond Slytherin for six months, watching him and waiting. It was finally time to take what was hers, to claim him in every way.
Before, she had never paid him much attention. He was a bit of a bastard and a superior snob that delighted in making her miserable, constantly teasing her and belittling her due her to her parentage and studious ways and making her feel inferior with one rude insult and a curl of his lips. For seven years, she had fought with him and battled him for everything from top marks to Prefect responsibility to having the last word in class discussions.
Hermione had not been blind, of course, knowing that he was rather attractive with his white blond hair and pale gray eyes and sharp features that gave him an aristocratic look and slender, muscular body that made many a witch think about him giving them a wild shag. She had never moved beyond thoughts, though, knowing that he loathed her and would never think about her in a sexual way.
That was before. She had always been secure in her intelligence, knowing she was bright and a talented witch, pleased with her determination and ambition to exceed. She had graduated Hogwarts with the highest marks in decades, receiving a certificate and having the recognition of being Head Girl on her transcripts. Her future was wide open, with the War ending after Voldemort’s defeat the summer before final year and many places interested in obtaining a brilliant Muggleborn witch for their companies, especially one that was widely known as Harry Potter’s best friend and a hero of the War.
She’d gone to University expecting to thrive in her area of chosen study and never once considering that anything would happen to deviate her from her plans. Hermione had always had a bit of a crush on Malfoy at Hogwarts. Most witches and even a few wizards had entertained thoughts of the lithe blond Slytherin. She had always been drawn to him, somehow, even when he was a rude, pompous prat, but she had assumed it was her fondness for being mentally challenges that attracted her to the handsome wizard because she’d had tingles of awareness even when he was short and pointy-faced and never knew what to do with his hair to make it look becoming.
He’d attended the same University as her, the brunette finding him in a majority of her classes, smirking at her when he noticed her attention before making some rude comment and focusing on the Professors. Hermione had done her best to ignore him, not allowing her foolish infatuation to cause her to do anything stupid like attempt to flirt with him or chat him up or even have a conversation with him. She was assured in her intelligence but she had no confidence when it came to her looks or attracting a man. She’d only ever dated Viktor and Ron, neither lasting more than one date and both simply being friends afterwards.
It wasn’t until their second year at University that her world changed. She’d been at a library in Muggle London, finding some rare historic texts that would be useful for her History of Magic finals, mentions of events in the Muggle world that had been Wizarding and the explanations that the Muggle gave for said events. It had been fascinating and she’d stayed until close. It had been dark when she left the library, the streets relatively empty, a cold winter evening where most people were sitting in their homes in front of a fire.
It was only after she was walking to the nearest apparition point that she realized someone was following her. She had survived a War, many battles during Sixth year, the loss of several close friends, and killing several Deatheaters with a well-placed curse, so the brunette witch had not reacted upon hearing footsteps behind her. She’d simply started walking faster, not allowing the fear to cause her to do anything stupid. When she had walked past an alley, she hadn’t even had a chance to scream before she was grabbed from behind and pushed against a brick wall. Looking into bright blue eyes, she’d watched in growing horror as the handsome man holding her touched her face, speaking in a language long forgotten. His eyes had turned yellow as his face changed, his fangs piercing her neck.
The last moments of her life were spent clutching the stranger, Christof as she later learned, and staring at the stars in the sky as he drank from her. She could remember the taste of his blood on her lips as his wrist had brushed against her mouth. He had purred in her ear, telling her to drink, whispering that she was Chosen and would now live forever. She hadn’t wanted to die. She remembered about vampires from Defense class, stories of animalistic creatures that ruthlessly fed from humans, a description that did not suit the man biting her. She knew about vampires, but had never imagined being accosted by one, the only thing in her mind at the time being: survive. His blood had spilled into her mouth, coppery and tart but oh so sweet. She had closed her eyes as she drank, dying in his arms, waking to find herself in lavish surroundings, disoriented and confused.
He had taught her, though, spending weeks answering all of her questions and teaching her the ways of her Clan. Christof was a wonderful sire and Father, becoming her first lover, teaching her the art of pleasure as well as lessons of survival. He was not her Mate, however. She had felt a pulling at her soul, a restlessness that he and her new family could not satisfy. Six months ago, he had let her go, believing she was ready to find her happiness, to find her future. She had returned to London, learning that her disappearance was believed to be the result of a Voldemort supporter and that everyone believed her to be dead. Since she was, in essence, dead, she had not bothered to contact her former friends. She was different, subtle changes really but she knew they would never accept her now.
Finding Draco was easy. Hermione had looked at him through the window of his flat, watching him look up suddenly as if he were aware she was watching, knowing instantly that he was hers. It had been a game, playing with her mate. Letting him see her momentarily before fading into the shadows, watching him look around with confusion and apprehension. Two months went by. She watched and teased him, being the one in control for the first time since they met all those years ago. Presents left at his doorstep, her eyes following him every evening, waiting to announce her intentions.
She had learned that vampires, true vampires, were not as they wrote about in Muggle books or portrayed in Muggle movies. There were thousands of her kind throughout the world, but they did not murder to feed nor did they sire a childe whenever the urge struck. She had been Chosen, Christof seeing it within her when he had noticed her browsing at an antique store weeks before her turning. Her gift was always there, lurking beneath the surface, and she had embraced it passionately, accepting it and adjusting with the change. Draco was her Mate. He was not Chosen, but he would be given the gift because of his importance to her, her need for him, her desire, her love.
Upon her death, her soul had remained. She was not driven by bloodlust, many willing Muggles eager to share their blood in various underground clubs throughout the world, and daylight was merely a bothersome annoyance but did not have to be feared or avoided. Her people kept to themselves, were members of society and did not worry about being hunted or feared. Christof was an Elder, his blood rich with history, Hermione being very fortunate that it was he who had seen her and recognized her gift. He knew of her Mate, had approved of the match and finally given permission for Hermione to take what was hers after the past six months of courting and seducing Draco.
The first two months had been spent watching her Mate, learning his habits and observing the things that she had never noticed about him. During the third month, she had let him see her, winking at the startled blond wizard before moving back into the shadows. The two months following, she had spoken to him, weaving a web around him with her words, knowing what he found arousing and what scared him, drawing him closer and closer to her, knowing he was feeling the connection between them, watching as he began to withdraw from the world around him and eagerly anticipate her visits even as he feared what was awaiting him.
Her Mate tried to act brave, facing her with his customary sneer while attempting to find out what happened to her. He found her arousing, possibly had all along but she’d never seen it. Since her rebirth, she was able to see things that she had overlooked. The way his gray eyes followed her as she moved around the room, the way his breath would catch when she was focused entirely on him, the way his skin would flush when he tried to instigate an argument, the scent of his arousal when he looked at her. That was observed before she had begun her seduction, a reaction he had to the Hermione he had known before, the handsome blond aware of the attraction in a way she had never realized.
When she had begun her courtship, formally declaring her intentions as was the way of her Kind, she had watched the confusion flash in his eyes before he’d smiled briefly before quickly becoming reserved and refusing to acknowledge her claims. He had proceeded to call her a daft bint and informed her that he was tired of playing her silly little games and had the gall to dismiss her. Before he’d had a chance to move, she had him pressed against a wall, her lips on his ear as she told him everything that she planned to do with him, what his future with her would be like, promising that he would be begging for her before she ever claimed him as hers.
The scent of his arousal had been thick, his heartbeat racing rapidly, his breath panting gasps that brushed against the cool column of her neck. She’d looked into his eyes and smiled, seeing the stubbornness but also seeing the desire and acceptance that he refused to acknowledge at that early stage of courtship. She had licked his neck, telling him that that was her spot, where her bite would be placed when he begged her to take him. And then she had walked away, leaving him leaning against the wall with his fingers brushing against his neck, his eyes following her as he’d struggled to deal with her revelations.
After that, she waited. Three days went by before her Mate had begun looking for her. His gray eyes scanning the streets and doorways, a lost look on his handsome face as he’d not seen her hiding in the shadows. He had gone to the places where they had met, before he had realized what she had become, when he believed her disappearance was simply a means of gaining some privacy from the Wizarding press. She allowed him to search for four more days before he ‘found’ her. He’d been relieved, she had seen it in his face, but he’d quickly concealed it beneath sarcasm and the façade of aloof, untouchable Pureblood that he had refined over the years.
In the weeks that followed, he sought her out, hunting and finding her, smug in his ability to locate her without once considering that she allowed herself to be found. She was pulling him in, wooing him, successfully seducing him with her words and eyes and promise of things to come. It would be his choice, had to be his choice. Even though he was her Mate, she could not take him unwillingly. Of course, had she been intent to claim him at that time, he would have been willing with a touch of her hand on his erection and her lips on his neck. Every time she left him, she licked her mark, letting him know silently that he was hers and merely had to say the word for her to claim him.
Her Mate had stopped going to class, spending his time watching her and following her when he thought she was unable to notice. She found it amusing, his need to be sneaky and study her in much the same way that she had watched him for months. She allowed him to see her habits, where she went, what she did, the life she had begun developing since her rebirth. Once she had claimed her Mate, they would leave England, returning to Christof and the Family at his island in the Mediterranean. From there, they would travel and explore the world for eternity.
She had let him watch her feed, pretending that she was not aware of his presence the first time he had followed her into the club. By the fifth time, her eyes caught his as she fed, the brunette deliberately making the feeding sexual and arousing. She had touched her donor, stroking the Muggle’s cock as she fed, her eyes never leaving her Mate. He had been hard and aroused, his pale cheeks flushed, his eyes a stormy gray, his body taut and needy, and she had watched with satisfaction as his eyes had flashed with possessiveness and jealousy at her actions. When she had finished feeding and the Muggle was spent, she had looked at her Draco and winked before licking the blood from her lips.
He had moved across the club, his hand tangling in her hair as he had kissed her, their first kiss. It had been passionate and explorative, Hermione becoming the aggressor as she tasted her Mate. She had pushed him to a sofa, unzipping his trousers and impaling herself on him. He had been so hard, his cock thick and coated with precum. She had ridden him in that dark club, their first union, the world feeling suddenly right as she felt her Mate buried deep inside her. His blood had called to her, but she had vowed to not take it unless he was willing. His hands had moved over her, beneath her shirt, caressing her breasts, his body arching into hers.
Then, just as she felt the tension, his tongue had pierced one of her fangs. Her eyes had looked into his as he plunged his tongue her mouth, letting her taste his blood. She had sucked his tongue, coming with a low growl, her muscles tightening around him. He had bucked up into her, his seed spilling as he pulled her closer. After she had released his mouth, she had kissed him gently and whispered soon before leaving him spent, sated, and resolved to his future with her.
That had been the previous evening, Hermione contacting Christof via owl with the news that he had willingly shared his blood and that her Mate was ready to be claimed. She had received permission from her Sire to take her Draco that evening, the two of them expected back at the island at the end of the week. Christof was giving her three days to be alone with her Draco before his training would begin, a honeymoon if you will, and Hermione planned to take full advantage of her time with her Mate.
She had been waiting all evening, watching her Draco leave his flat, his eyes finding her easily, more accustomed to her presence and all ready learning how to feel her and communicate in the way of Mates, though his ability would increase upon his death. He had smirked at her, the twisting of his lips that she found attractive, and then he had walked the other way, wanting her to hunt him. She had complied, Hermione feeling more powerful than ever at the realization that she would be claiming her Mate that evening.
"I’m not afraid," he whispered as she reached him, his eyes looking into hers as he waited for her.
"You should be," she cautioned as she cocked her head to the side, studying him with an affectionate smile. Her cool fingers moved along his cheek as she stepped closer, Hermione brought her lips against his ear. "My Draco, what do you want?"
"You," he said so softly she almost didn’t hear it even with her heightened senses.
Hermione smiled triumphantly as she looked into his eyes, her voice gentle as she asked, "Do you willingly accept my claim and acknowledge your destiny as my Mate?"
"Hermione," he smiled slowly as he nodded, "yes, I do. I, Draco Malfoy, accept your claim willingly and eagerly. Now is this formal bit over? I want to feel you again, like last night."
"So impatient," she moved her lips against his, whispering, "You will have me for an eternity, my love. You are mine, my Draco."
"And you’re mine, Hermione," he snarled suddenly, his eyes narrowing, "there will be no more fondling Muggles!"
"I only did that to make you jealous, dear boy. You‘re the only one I want, Draco," she confessed before her lips moved against his. Pressing him against the wall of the alley, she was taken back to her turning. Cold and wet, heavy fog, pain in her neck, a choice given, a decision that she did not regret. Shaking away the lingering memories, she concentrated on her Mate. She moved her hand beneath his robe, cupping the erection that pressed against his trousers. Releasing his lips, she caught his eyes and demanded, "Fuck me. I want to claim you while you’re inside me."
"Merlin, I love when you get bossy," he muttered to himself as he moved his hands beneath her skirt to discover that she wasn’t wearing knickers. With a low groan, he moved two fingers into her, finding her wet, stroking her as her hand unzipped his trousers and freed his erection.
Hermione found herself pressed against the wall, his hands beneath her arse as he raised her, her legs going around his waist, her hand holding his shaft as she was lowered onto it, the width stretching her as he was soon buried completely within her. They began to move, his breath hot against her neck, her hands moving into his soft blond hair as they fucked. She kissed him, enjoying the warmth while she could, knowing that soon he would be as cool to touch as she. His left hand held her bum as his right moved between them, cupping her breasts through the thin material of her shirt. The brunette moved against his cock, that feeling of contentment again spreading over her as he took her against the wall.
She released his mouth when she felt her orgasm approaching. Her face shifted, her eyes looking at the stars in the sky, his lips brushing against the ridges in her face as his hand moved from her breast to twist her clit. She keened as she felt her release spread over her, her head falling forward as she bit into his neck, piercing his skin and feeling his heated blood spill into her mouth.
He cried out in pain and arousal when she bit him, his body arching into hers as he came, his hand tangling in her thick brown curls as she fed from him. Hermione moved her legs from his waist, standing as she lowered him to the pavement, her arms around her handsome Mate as his heart began to slow down, his breathing ragged, his right hand holding hers tightly as his left tangled in her hair. He was moaning softly, having an awareness of what to expect but the reality scaring him and painful despite her tender caresses and loving bite.
Hermione withdrew a dagger from the pocket of her robe, slicing her wrist and bringing it against his lips before her hand moved back to holding his. His grip was loose as he began to fade away, his lips moving against her arm. She felt his tongue tentatively lick the blood, her mouth moving from her claim to whisper in his ear, encouraging words of love and need and their future, his hand releasing hers and holding her arm as he began to lick and suck the wound. When she was certain that he had enough, she buried her fangs back into the claim, drinking from him until she felt his death approach. She held Draco as he died, her Mate closing his eyes and laying in her arms as the last of his mortal life left him.
The brunette waited until he was gone before she stood and lifted him, frowning as she awkwardly carried the taller man, thankful that his weight was not a concern. She took him to her flat, borrowed from her brother, Magnus, who was at the Island with the rest of her Family. She laid Draco in the bed, her eyes moving possessively over her Mate as she stripped him.
Finally seeing him nude for the first time, she sat beside him and touched him as she waited for him to awaken. He was beautiful, all sharp angles and pale skin, his cock resting against his thigh, nestled in white-blond curls. It had taken her two hours to wake up, according to her Sire, but she suspected it would take her Mate less time. Draco was terribly impatient and it would seem logical that he would continue to be even after his rebirth.
She busied herself learning his body, touching him and licking him, marking him with her scent. He was now hers just as she was his. True, there would be a formal ceremony amongst their kind when her Sire deemed Draco ready, but he would claim her as soon as he was awake. Hermione felt the arousal spread over her as she imagined his fangs buried in her neck as they fucked, her nipples getting hard as she moved against his muscular stomach. Within an hour, she felt him stirring. Gray eyes opened slowly, a look of confusion and disorientation in their pale depths before he focused on her. She saw the realization wash over him as he remembered what had happened, as he felt his gift and became accustomed to the change within.
Hermione’s lips curved into a smile when he looked at her and the familiar smirk crossed his lips, his hands moving along her thighs as he sniffed the air. "You smell good," he said huskily, his cock pressing against her arse.
"Mine," she purred, her hand moving to stroke his cock, her eyes flashing yellow as she licked her lips.
"Yours," he smiled smugly, showing off his new fangs before he suddenly sat up and switched their positions, pressing her against the mattress, entering her deeply as he began to fuck her hard and passionately. He nuzzled her neck, licking a spot just below her ear, brushing his fangs against her sensitive flesh. Draco raised his head, his pale blond hair falling across his forehead, his voice desperate and his eyes begging as he looked at her, "Please."
"I, Hermione Granger, accept your claim as my Mate, Draco Malfoy," she whispered before gasping as his fangs pierced her neck. She moved against his cock, feeling his hands all over as he drank from her neck, claiming her in the same way she had just claimed him. Her fingernails scratched his back as she came, the feeling of his fangs in her and the gentle sucking of his mouth and the tender caress of his tongue too much for her. He continued to fuck her before his body stiffened and his seed spilled inside her, his mouth releasing her neck as he kissed her, sharing the taste of their blood.
"Mine," Draco said possessively, his eyes loving as he laid beside her and pulled her against him.
"Yours," Hermione echoed his earlier words, her fingers stroking her Mate’s soft hair as he snuggled against her, soon drifting into a sleep that would last half a day, his body adjusting to his gift, her blood sating him until he awoke again. A content and happy smile crossed her face as she held her Mate, her arms holding him possessively as she simply watched him sleep, her mind full of thoughts about their future together.
*the end*