Blood Bound: A Vampire Tale
Disclaimer: Everything concerning Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I own nothing, nor is this done for any purpose except my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of anyone reading this. There is no attempt to make any profit.
I wish to extend a grateful thank you to my beta readers, Amanda and Prof Roz. Any mistakes left in this story are due to my last minute revisions.
A/N Conversations in italic print are telepathic in nature.
Chapter Twelve
Sunset brought new activity to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry looked at the destroyed Horcrux; he was almost unable to fathom what it meant. For months he had been dreading to walk this road and now it was upon him. He really was no nearer to having a plan to find these things, but one had just dropped into his hands. He hoped it was an omen.
"Harry?" Hermione's thought disturbed his reverie.
He turned to look at her, "What are we going to do?"
Harry shrugged, "When all else fails, just carry on with what worked before. It's my turn to get the laundry." He smiled at her. He secretly hoped he could get a better handle on the situation with a little more time, perhaps the wash cycle would provide enough.
"I think I'll find a library or a bookstore, there is a book I want to read."
"Dracula?" Harry grinned.
"I know it's thought of as fiction, but since it seems to have a basis in fact, it might be useful. It won't help us against Voldemort, but it might give us a clue about what the Ministry is afraid of."
Harry nodded his head in agreement. Information was what Hermione was best at. Since she had failed to come up with a counter to the detection spells of the vampire hunters, he realized that it was the best way to keep her spirits up. Succeeding at a new project might restore her confidence.
Since ammonia is soluble in water, Hermione wanted their laundry washed Muggle fashion. They had located a washing machine in a nearby apartment building. Harry washed their cloaks and BDU's, dried them with magic, and shrunk them to fit into small bag. As he was returning to the gloomy old mansion he experienced a growing sense of foreboding. By the time he had packed everything away he was feeling positively alarmed. He put on his Invisibility Cloak and grabbed his Firebolt on the way out. He slipped quietly out of the door and began flying over the neighborhood looking for Hermione.
Suddenly, he experienced a flash of rage; he knew that somewhere nearby Hermione was feeling furious about something. He slowed the broom and searched with his vampiric senses; he located Hermione a few streets away, her anger guided him like a beacon.
He saw her on the street below talking to a Muggle. He was puzzled as he watched her, she appeared chatting normally, but he could feel the waves of anger coming from her mind. Rather than interfere he braced his foot against a peaked roof and cocked his head to listen.
"Yes, I'm lost," she was saying, "Could you help me find Grimmauld Place?" She was clutching a plastic bag to her chest as if to protect herself from the stranger's appraising stare.
"Yeah," the stranger said, "It's this way. By the way, my name is Don."
Hermione introduced herself as Elizabeth Bathory.
They began walking down the street and Hermione began chattering about how she had just moved into the area, how she didn't have any friends, and her prospects for finding a job. Her guide nodded as he listened to her without comment. Harry was amazed that Hermione could sound so calm, when he could plainly sense that she was in a towering rage.
From his vantage point he could see a second young man slip out of an alleyway and walk toward the pair. The three of them met under a streetlight, and the second man greeted the first. He was introduced to Hermione as Sam. Don led the way for two more blocks and then he turned away from Grimmauld Place. Hermione played along.
As the trio approached the center of the block, Sam began to whistle a cheery tune. Harry had followed the group, now he could see a third man step from the shadows. He could tell that Hermione was being gently herded toward him.
Harry considered the newcomer. He looked rather like Cedric Diggory, with the same fine features. His eyes, however, were light blue, and among the coldest eyes Harry had ever seen.
Don spoke up, "Hey, Leo! Look who we found. Her name's Elizabeth and she's new here."
Leo gave Hermione an appraising leer. Looking up at Don and Sam he said, "Plain little bird isn't she?"
Hermione looked at Leo, feigning a look of fear, "Why are you being so rude? I don't even know you."
"No, little Lizzy, but you will. Might even be the high point of your life, being with a bloke like me."
Hermione dropped the sack with her new book and backed away from Leo. Don and Sam closed ranks behind her, blocking her escape. Hermione hung her head, looking at her trainers. "Please don't hurt me," she whispered. Leo jerked his head toward the alley.
Don and Sam grabbed Hermione's arms as Leo reached out and cupped her chin. None of them held her for very long. When they touched the skin of her arms they realized that something was not right. Hermione's arms were clay-like and as cold as the evening air. They stepped back in surprise, "Leo, somethin's not right," whispered Sam. "Her skin feels weir…,"
In the meantime, Leo tipped Hermione's face upward, and he looked into eyes that were glowing like the fires of Hell. His cry of surprise died in his throat as Hermione bared her fangs in a grin that the devil himself would have been proud of.
Leo froze in shock. Hermione stepped back quickly and grabbed a handful of Don's shirt, and without much apparent effort, she threw him into the alley. He landed hard and lay in a broken heap. Whirling around, she backhanded Sam with such force that he landed on his back in the middle of the street.
Leo was mewling in terror as Hermione extended her talons. With the speed of a striking snake she slashed them diagonally across his face. Her claws cut the skin across his eyes, nose, lips, and chin. Like lightening, she crossed the first cuts she made. "Will you dare to show your ugly face to the world now?" The power of her thought slammed Leo backward. He continued to scoot backward as Hermione advanced upon him. Wielding fear like a weapon she broke his mind with the power of her vampiric will. "You'll never hurt anyone again you pathetic little…,"
She never finished her thought as Harry dropped like a thunderbolt into the battle. He planted himself between Leo and Hermione, "Stop!" he commanded with all the authority of a sire over its fledgling. Hermione hissed her frustration at his coming between her and her prey, but she obeyed.
Harry grabbed the miscreant, and lifted him to his feet. The blood flowed from Leo's face on to Harry's hands. "When you are questioned, you will confess that a rival gang has done this to you because you, to use your expression, 'diddled the wrong popsy'. You understand?"
Leo tried to nod. Harry threw him backwards and watched as he began to stumble away from the terror that would be forever at his heels. By the time Harry turned back to Hermione, she had pulled Sam from the street and buried her fangs in his neck.
After a few minutes he commanded, "Enough," Hermione dropped Sam callously to the sidewalk, after closing the punctures on his neck. She turned to face Harry, her eyes still blazing. Harry could begin to understand how he had killed those six Death Eaters. Hermione, with her vampire ascendant, was truly terrifying. He could still sense the rage burning within her. He approached and grabbed her wrists allowing her to struggle against his strength. For long minutes they stood as he wrestled with her. Their arms moved in slow circles as he helped her spend her anger. Slowly, the red light faded from her eyes as Hermione regained control and at last he looked into her familiar, brown orbs.
Her face became a mask of anguish as she thought, "Oh, Harry! What have I done?" She began to tremble as she looked at the blood on her hands and the spatters on the street. Sam was unconscious and Don lay groaning in the alley.
"Go back to Number Twelve, I'll be there in a few minutes," he ordered gently. Hermione picked up the book and slipped into the darkness. Don was staring into the sky as Harry came and stood over him. Harry commanded him to confess his involvement with Leo and planted the idea they had been attacked by people he did not know. He fed his hunger from the hoodlum and released him to the darkness.
Harry found Hermione washing the blood from her hands but it was not doing her much good, as she was crying. The blood streaked her face as Harry took her in his arms and held her tightly. She was aware of the pressure, but there was no warmth or real comfort in his embrace.
"It was so strong; I couldn't resist… it … when I came out of the bookstore … they were there. I saw him, I recognized him from that girl's memories … I just wanted to kill him … I couldn't stop myself … if you hadn't … hadn't …"
Hermione's anguish started Harry's tears. He tried to hold back his own emotion, but the guilt and fear rushed in upon him again. Remembering the comfort of Hermione's voice when they were in the cemetery where her parents were buried, Harry whispered, "It's not your fault, Hermione. I did this to you … I had no idea it would be like this … I'm so sorry … so sorry."
Hermione drew away from him and stared in surprise, he was speaking to her. Because it was spoken, somehow his thought seemed so much more personal and heartfelt. "I didn't know it could be like this, Harry," she thought. "If your vampire was in control when you made me, you couldn't have fought it, at least not alone," she hung her head in shame at the memory of the way she had treated him in those first few days. At last she looked into his eyes and said, "I forgive you, Harry."
Harry felt a great weight lift from his shoulders and he looked at Hermione. He could see the truth in her eyes. She did forgive him. Gently, he licked the blood-tears from her face, "No reason to have another load of laundry tonight. I'll treasure these tears in memory of your forgiveness." The power of her tears tingled on his tongue.
She gave him a genuine smile and she licked his tears dry, "I'll treasure these tears because you care for me."
For a few moments it seemed that they were alive again. The feeling of friendship was strong, but all too quickly the feeling faded and Hermione, ever practical, thought, "What are we going to do now?"
Harry thought for a few minutes, "We'll have to clear out. The Muggle police might be fooled, but a vampire hunter will recognize the marks of your claws. Kingsley will be suspicious about the location because he knows about the mansion. I guess he didn't think I'd come back here, but the place will be watched now for certain. Let's Apparate back to the lair at Nottingham, tomorrow we'll fly to Birmingham to see if the dementors are there. While we're there we can think about finding the other Horcruxes."
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Arthur Weasley had not been given to brooding, but it now came with the territory. He had always liked getting out of the office, but now mostly he shuffled papers, gave orders, and brooded. He most often wondered how the world had come to be like it was. As he thought about it, Voldemort's tactics were becoming more obvious. His attacks on Muggles caught the Ministry's attention and when the Aurors committed themselves, his Death Eaters were able to attack his real targets in other areas.
The wizard population has always been scattered, and now they were being driven further apart. Old feelings of prejudice were being magnified by the fear of strangers that might be in league with Voldemort. The families where only one parent was magical were where Voldemort was striking hardest. A single witch or wizard was no match for half a dozen Death Eaters. Now many of those families were fleeing England. Each day the Dark Lord had fewer to oppose him.
There was a soft knock on his door. "Come in," he invited.
Kingsley stuck his head into the office. "You hungry? I came to invite you to lunch."
"Not really hungry, but I could do with some tea. I'll be right with you."
Once out of the office, the two friends walked from the Ministry building to a small restaurant. Kingsley ordered a light lunch and they took the opportunity to talk in private.
"Have you heard about the latest dementor attacks?"
Arthur thought for a moment. "You mean the two down in Surrey?"
"That's the one. The two victims were Death Eaters."
Arthur almost dropped his teacup in surprise. "You mean the dementors have turned on Voldemort? Why?"
"The Ministry would really like to know the answer to that question. Not that we've been able to talk to one."
Arthur looked surprised, "They can talk?"
Kingsley looked at him with an exasperated expression, "Of course they can talk. We negotiated with them to have them guard Azkaban didn't we?"
"I just never thought of it before." He did not say how much he disliked thinking about anything that had to do with dementors.
"Now that we know how to kill them, we can't find them anymore."
Now it was Arthur's turn to realize the obvious, "Well, if you were coming to kill me I'd hide too. You know they feed off of our thoughts." That particular realization made Kingsley's face satisfyingly blank.
They ate and drank in silence for a few minutes before Kingsley confessed, "I guess you were right about Harry being a vampire. They were at Grimmauld Place a couple of nights ago. I checked this morning and found traces of ammonia in one of the upstairs bedrooms. I also found this. Do you recognize it?" He handed Arthur a heavy gold locket. It was open and the center was destroyed.
"No, I've never seen it before. How did you find out Harry was there?"
"There was an attack in the neighborhood, the victim was confessing to a string of assaults. He said a gang attacked him with knives, but Carstairs says it was a vampire's talons that made the wounds. Can't say he didn't deserve it, but his face is a total ruin. It's even worse than Mad-Eye's or Bill's. He's lucky he wasn't blinded."
"How can Carstairs be sure?"
"The depth and spacing of the cuts match the spread of a person's hand. I guess Hermione was there too. I found this in a waste basket." He held out a sales receipt from a bookstore. After the senior Weasley took it he said, "Tonks checked this out for me, the person that bought it was a girl and she bought "Dracula."
Arthur started to chuckle, then he burst out laughing, drawing looks from the nearby customers, but the thought of a vampire reading "Dracula" was just too much. Despite the stress and worry the war was causing, plus the fear of what Harry and Hermione could become in time, even Kingsley was unable to resist the irony, and he burst out laughing as well.
It was the best Arthur had felt in weeks. He did not tell Kingsley that Harry and Hermione had talked to Fred and George, or that they now had amulets that could help protect them from his vampire hunters. Somehow, he could not believe that if Hermione was still reading she would be that different from the young woman that he knew, though the report of the vicious attack on the Muggle did give food for thought. He wondered what lessons Hermione would draw from the old story.
"So they're gone again?"
Kingsley wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. "I expect so."
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Birmingham is the second largest city in England, and had once been the center of its metal making industry. The days of the Industrial Revolution were long behind it. The industry was cleaner now, but the soot stained bricks spoke eloquently of its past.
The city is enclosed by a ring of industrial towns that provided a good deal of cover, both for vampires and dementors. After a good deal of searching, Harry and Hermione created a lair in the basement of an old apartment building.
In the aftermath of her attack on Leo, Hermione had pulled back into her shell. Harry had tried to convince her that it was her sense of justice that had provoked her so. She had been deeply distressed to find Leo's victim in the alleyway, and her basic hatred of injustice in any form caused her to use her vampire powers to stop a vicious predator. Harry was pleased that she seemed to draw a measure of comfort from his observations, and at least showed some small interest in their activities.
In the next few days she was very cautious about hunting, and she also fed from a few people that were not engaged in some criminal activity. Fear drove her to feed from innocent people and her conscience bothered her somewhat. She was envious that Harry could steal blood from anyone without it bothering him.
Hermione breezed through "Dracula" in the space of three evenings. They talked some about the book, but there was nothing of any real help in understanding the Ministry's attitude toward vampires. The pair of them could, if they wished, create an "epidemic" of vampires. That was bad, and what the Ministry was apparently afraid of. However, it overlooked the fact that they were helpless during the day and could be killed by the humans if the secret of their existence got out. Not to mention that the more vampires there were meant there would be fewer humans left to feed on.
Harry resumed hunting for dementors and in the first few nights managed to find and kill a few. The dementors seemed to be becoming extremely wary and were making themselves hard to find.
The other bright spot was the fact that the library at the University in Birmingham was open all night.
One evening as Harry was returning from his hunt in one of the outlying cities Hermione contacted him, "Harry could you come to the library?" He replied that he would, and about half an hour later he was looking through the stacks searching for her.
It took a few minutes for him to find her poring over a book. "Harry, why haven't we gone to Godric's Hollow? You wanted to last summer." She offered him a small smile.
Harry was deeply touched by her question. It was also the first time since she had lost control of her vampire that she was making a suggestion about something for them to do. After a few moments he shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know where it is, and there is no one I can ask now."
"We could have asked Fred or George, but I found it." She turned the book toward Harry and pointed just west of Salisbury. There along the banks of the Wylye River was a small dot labeled "Godric's Hollow." "If we hurry we can make Salisbury, and tomorrow night we could fly to Godric's Hollow."
Harry gave Hermione a grateful smile; instinctively he reached out to touch her hand, "Thanks, Hermione. That's one of the nicest things you've ever done for me." Even though his sense of touch had been degraded by his death, Hermione's hand felt cold and wax like. She started at the touch of his cold, dry skin on her hand. Their smiles wavered at the realization of what the other was feeling. What once would have been a very pleasant intimacy was stolen from them.
"It's all right, Harry. You just surprised me, is all. Besides, I can hear the gratitude in your thoughts." She reached out and took his hand, "and you can hold my hand if you want to."
Harry curled his fingers through hers and pulled her to her feet. The guilt at what he had done to her swept over him again. "Don't you go feeling all guilty again, Harry Potter. I see it in your eyes. I told you I forgive you, and I mean it. Let's go." As they walked from the library Hermione held his hand and walked more closely beside him as they made their way to the lair.
As Harry was pushing the Firebolt swiftly southward his thoughts wandered over the past few days, and he had an epiphany of sorts. He realized that as much as he hated feeling regret or hurt, it was in those feelings and in response to those feelings in Hermione that he felt the most human. The vampire side of his nature was strongest in anger and if things were normal he felt empty. He understood better what Dumbledore had tried to teach him the night Sirius had died; the pain of his grief did mean that he was human. He wondered what might have happened if he had let Hermione talk to him about Sirius, perhaps he might have discovered how precious she was to him before he had lost her.
As they approached Salisbury they flew just east of Stonehenge. Harry could sense a strange power in the old megaliths, but he had no time to attend to it now. The dawn was less than three hours away.
They examined several buildings in the center of the city but could find nothing suitable for a hiding place. At last Hermione suggested the cathedral that they had seen as they approached the city. Harry had been impressed; the spire of the old church was the tallest he had ever seen. Hermione charmed the door lock and they entered the nave. The silence in the ancient church was awesome. They quickly passed through the nave and approached the apse. Time was pressing as they found their way into the choir loft. Finally, Harry found a storage area where they could hide for the day. A light coating of dust indicated that the area was seldom entered and they had a reasonable chance of remaining undetected. Harry Disillusioned the door to the small storage area and the two vampires settled in for the day.
The normal commerce of the day ensued, tours came and went, and all the while the humans were unaware of the presence of the undead at the edge of their lives. The sun set over the Salisbury plain and consciousness returned to two bodies hidden in the great cathedral. Harry helped Hermione to her feet and the two of them warily sensed their surroundings for the presence of humans near their refuge.
They could feel the life force of some people still in the building, but no one was in the immediate area. As softy as shadows, they stole through the great nave and out into the fresh air. Before setting out on the final leg of their journey they Disillusioned themselves. Hermione climbed onto the Firebolt behind Harry and they set off.
Harry followed the course of the Wylye River to the northwest and a little better than an hour later they were looking down on the lights of Godric's Hollow. The village was nestled in a small valley and surrounded by hills arising from the plain. The river bounded its eastern side and a narrow lane wound through the low hills to the main road, which passed to the southwest.
As they flew low over the village Hermione noticed that the lane became the main street. At the center was the village square and the street continued to the edge of the river. Five smaller streets crossed the main street and were lined with houses. There were two between the square and the river and three between the square and the edge of the town. A few of the secondary streets passed into the countryside providing access to the farms which dotted the landscape around the village. From the air it did not appear all that different from Hogsmeade.
The second major thoroughfare ran parallel to the river. It was here that the village church was located. Across the road from the church the churchyard extended down to the bank of the river. As Harry headed for the edge of town closest to the churchyard Hermione noticed a fair amount of activity in the village itself.
They touched down on the lane and they began walking to the churchyard. "There's something going on in the village," she thought. Harry nodded his agreement and they made their way cautiously into the community.
As they moved eastward into the village they began to hear the laughter of little children. Their high, clear voices shouted "Anything for Halloween! Anything for Halloween!" Hermione caught the familiar scent of the currant filled "soul cakes" of her childhood. For vampires the nights blended into one another. During the days there was no sense of the passage of time. They had been vaguely aware that September had passed, but as they hunted dementors in the slums and industrial areas they had failed to notice the approach of Halloween.
She looked at Harry with concern; she could sense the intense mental activity as he came to realize what day it was. Sixteen years to the day that Voldemort had been here. That he had been ripped from his family and exiled to the Dursleys. On this night Hagrid had flown him away from here on Sirius' motorcycle, and now on the Firebolt that Sirius had given him, sixteen years later Harry Potter had returned home.