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.
Chapter Five
Saturday continued to be an unusual day at the Burrow. Bill greeted Percy and did his best to make his brother welcome. His brush with death had taught him the value of familial relationships. Percy tried not to show it, but he was deeply shocked by the extent of Bill's scars. The reports had not managed to accurately convey their magnitude. Ron and Ginny had both taken deep offense on behalf of their parents and were determined to make Percy earn his own redemption. Fleur, while aware of the story, tried to make Percy feel welcome at breakfast because Bill did so.
Percy made no abject apology, but neither did he try to pretend that everything was back to normal. With practiced ease he kept the conversation to non-controversial topics while managing to soothe the ruffled feathers of his younger siblings. After breakfast, he pitched in to help with the little chores that had to be done before the wedding.
Just before noon, Dawlish and an Auror named Littleton came to the Burrow at Percy's behest. They collected Ron to make another search of Number Four. The trio returned with interesting news a couple of hours later. None of the Aurors had known of the loose floorboard under Harry's bed. They noted that Harry's Firebolt, wand, school books, and money were missing.
The Aurors still had no leads as to where Harry might have gone or whether he had taken his things before or after he had been attacked.
Ron didn't enlighten the Aurors about Voldemort's Horcruxes, and they told him nothing of Harry's bloody, broken glasses that had been found down the street from Number Four. Ron's mind was eased somewhat. It seemed Harry might have gone after the Horcruxes alone. Ron hoped that he might eventually contact him for help. The thing that still bothered him the most was how he was going to have to tell Harry what had happened to Hermione.
At tea time another guest appeared at the Burrow. Headmistress McGonagall came to visit with the announcement that the Board of Governors had decided to re-open Hogwarts in the coming school year. They knew that a large portion of the former students would not return, but for those who wished to come back, the teachers would be there for them. She was contacting as many of the students as she could in an effort to see how many would return.
After a brief consultation both Ron and Ginny decided to finish their schooling as best they could. It had been decided by the governors that each family would make its own travel arrangements rather than risk the Hogwarts Express.
McGonagall carefully avoided making mention of Harry and Hermione in the presence of the younger Weasleys, but as she was leaving she managed a brief discussion with Arthur. The Order of the Phoenix had been paralyzed after the death of Dumbledore, and McGonagall was trying to put together some semblance of reorganization. Molly and Arthur both wished to continue, and would make no objection if their younger sons wished to participate. The stern Professor left the Burrow nearly in tears. She felt the grief of the Weasleys concerning Harry and Hermione compounding her own, but also some wonder at their courage to persevere in the face of the enormous difficulties the future presented. In spite of their own problems the Weasleys were always trying to comfort others.
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As night was falling on the Burrow, bringing Saturday to a close, it was reviving two vampires in London. Harry had flown back to the city after planting the idea that Arthur needed to strengthen the defenses at the Burrow.
As they had flown over the south of London, Harry located an abandoned factory on the bank of the Thames. They entered at a large loading dock. The dock was open at each end to accommodate a rail spur. Dust covered the floor, and it was obvious that no one else had entered the place in years. The manufacturing floor had been stripped of whatever machinery had once been employed there, and all that was left were wires hanging from the ceiling and pipes coming out of the floor.
They had found a flight of stairs leading down to a large basement. The place was a maze of piping. In one corner Harry had located an office that had been converted into a store room. It was filled with a fair amount of office furniture. He had stacked the chairs in a corner, placed some desks end to end, and used magic to clean the dust away. He was glad for the work; it kept visions of the dead Death Eaters out of his conscious mind. Hermione just stood inside the door watching him. Her eyes looked as empty as they had when she had walked away from the Burrow.
"Lie down here," Harry ordered gently. She had complied without argument. Harry folded her cloak and placed it under her head. He closed the door and locked it with "Colloportus!"
A short while later Harry could hear the odd hissing sound that heralded the dawn. "What's that noise?" asked Hermione.
"Just the dawn, don't worry, everything will be okay." As the sun had broken over the factory Harry's consciousness slipped away and he had fallen into dreamless darkness.
As the setting sun saw McGonagall's departure from the Burrow, it brought an instant return to consciousness for Harry; as well as the return of some unpleasant memories. He sat up on the desk and looked around. Hermione's eyes were open too. She looked at him, her eyes blazing in the dark.
"Are my eyes glowing too?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Let me see your arm," he asked. Hermione sat up and rolled back the sleeve of her tee shirt. Harry was pleasantly surprised; Alecto's blood had nearly closed the gash in her forearm. Unbidden Alecto's dead face flashed into his awareness, he savagely shoved it out of his thoughts as he tried to decide what to do.
The familiar ache in his joints told him he needed to hunt, but the need was not pressing. Hermione was just sitting on the desk, wrapped in her own thoughts. Harry looked into her mind; all he saw were memories of her parents. The memories were accompanied by a profound feeling of sadness and loss. It made him feel uncomfortable to intrude so he withdrew before she could notice he was there.
Harry decided to leave Hermione to her grief. Taking his wand he slipped out of the door. The basement was alive with small insects and rats. He stopped to feel their energy. They scurried to get away from him; and he realized that they had all left the office where he and Hermione had spent the daylight hours. Walking along he realized he could actually "see" their life energy even when they were burrowing through old papers. He examined a thick, wooden post. The presence of termites gave the wood a brighter color than that of an adjacent post that had none.
The night sky was another wonder. The stars pulsed with power. Harry could only see a few because the lights of the city overpowered the fainter ones, but each of the ones he could see shone with its own unique signature. The planets looked unmistakably different because they reflected the light of the sun. The planets and the moon, now just past full, were comforting reminders of the sun that he could never see again. He stood for a long while just gazing upward.
Wrapping his cloak around himself Harry moved along the fence until he found a place where he could get through. The streets in the immediate area were dark, dreary, and devoid of life. A cold, thin mist was rising from the river.
Harry began walking toward the traffic that his ears told him was a few blocks away. Along the way he heard voices coming from an alleyway. He turned to his right and walked past the careless piles of trash and junk. A few yards in he came upon a small group of boys planning some act of burglary. Harry was surprised at their youth; the oldest appeared no older than him. Not that it mattered; all he needed was some of their blood. He left them sleeping peacefully, not caring that someone else's possessions were safe for the night.
Returning to the factory, he had Hermione share the blood he had taken. When she had closed the cut he had made in his wrist he asked, "Are you okay?"
"No I'm not," she snapped.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. He remembered how she tried to talk to him about Sirius.
"Not now, maybe later." She turned her back to him. She was sitting cross-legged on the desk, staring at the corner.
With that Harry left the office and made his way to the roof of the building. The factory was three stories tall, which placed him above the glare of the street lights. He sat on the parapet and looked out over the city.
The memories that had been stalking him all evening at last pounced upon him. He started to tremble as he tried to begin to deal with the guilt. Six human beings had met death at his hands the night before, and he did not know how to cope. In desperation he pulled the Chocolate Frog card of Dumbledore out of his pocket. He had been carrying it since the funeral.
Somehow, the picture was managing an expression of stern disapproval. Tears of blood streaked down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't know what else to do," he whined to himself.
Inside his head, Dumbledore's voice asked, "How does it feel to be a killer, Harry?"
"Awful," he thought truthfully. "Like when I used the Sectumsempra Curse on Malfoy, only a million times worse."
"Then there may be hope for you." In his imagination, the expression on Dumbledore's face softened somewhat. "The people you destroyed, what were they going to do?"
"They said they were going to kill the Weasleys and kidnap Ron and Ginny. Take them to Voldemort."
"If you had alerted the Weasleys, what would have happened?" Harry remembered the gentle tone Dumbledore would have used.
"I guess they would have fought them, like at the Ministry."
"And…," the voice prompted.
"I guess some of them might have died. It would depend on the spells they used."
"In your experience, what spells would the Death Eaters have used?"
"Avada Kedavra."
"Would the Weasleys use a spell like that?" his imagination asked.
"Probably not, although I think Mrs. Weasley might, if her children were threatened."
"Harry, killing can be justified, on occasion; but it is never easy nor without consequence. During war time people are killed. Remember, it is better to injure than to maim, and better to maim than to kill. However, sometimes there is no choice. It is always better, for your own sake, to use the least violent means necessary. You must plan. Last night you had no plan, did you?"
"No."
"Then I would say that you did the best you could, given the circumstances. However, you wanted revenge, true?" Harry nodded miserably. "Revenge is always sweet at first, but believe me; it always turns bitter in the end. Avoid it from now on."
"I will," Harry answered.
"Treat this as a sharp lesson, Harry. As you think about it, remember how Ron and Ginny would have fared in Voldemort's hands." The voice in his head fell silent.
Harry looked down at the card, Dumbledore had disappeared again. He wiped his eyes on his tee shirt, glad that the blood would not show against the dark blue color. Gathering himself, he went back down to the office feeling a little better.
Hermione lay on the desk with her hands folded across her breast. She looked at him as he entered and locked the door.
"Harry, did you really drink my parent's blood?" her tone was one of hurt.
"Yes, I'm sorry, but…yes, I did," he replied guiltily.
Hermione said no more, but turned her face away from him. Harry folded his cloak to use as a pillow, lay down, and waited for the dawn. It did not seem that they waited long.
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Sunday at the Weasleys began quietly enough. Percy had left after Arthur had finished with the files on Saturday, but Fred and George had come to help out with the wedding preparations. Sunday was the only day of the week they closed their business. This morning Molly was marshalling the family with more of the tasks that had to be done before the wedding. Ron was unusually glum so Arthur tried to talk to him to find out what was bothering him.
"Partly, I'm just afraid that he's gone off without me. He promised to do something for Dumbledore, Hermione and I were supposed to go with him. Herms and I had a fight and she went home, Harry was kind of put out with me about it. Then, the Grangers were…" Ron choked back the tears. "If she had been with me…and Harry, maybe…maybe they would've left her folks alone."
He drew a shuddering breath, "Mainly, it's Harry's birthday. He's seventeen today and I can't help but feel something really bad happened to him, and it's my fault for not being there. I still want to believe nothing has happened, but I'm losing hope."
"Go on," said Arthur, "Why are you feeling he hasn't gone off on his own?"
"Hedwig, he'd have taken her in case he needed to send a message, I don't think that she would leave him, and there is no one to take care of her at his uncle's house. Not to mention the fact that she was acting so strangely when she got here."
Arthur nodded, "I don't know what else you could have done. You tried to get Harry to come, he just wouldn't. You told us he thought that this should be a family time; can you think of any other reason why he wouldn't come?"
Ron shook his head. Suddenly, Molly called out, "Arthur! Arthur! Come quick. Something is wrong with Errol!"
By the time he and Ron made it to the shed where Errol roosted, Molly was in tears and the rest of the family was gathering. Errol had fallen from his perch and was lying on the floor of the shed. Arthur gently examined the fallen owl.
"He's dead," he pronounced sadly. "Well, he was very old. Guess it was his time." He untied a small envelope from the owl's leg. "Whose is this?" he asked.
Ginny spoke up, "Mine, it's a birthday note I sent to Harry." Examining the letter she began to sniffle, "He wouldn't even open it. He hates me."
All the male Weasleys looked at one another, thoroughly baffled. Molly placed her arm around Ginny's shoulders and guided her back toward the kitchen. Arthur buried Errol in the garden. Over the years he had buried several pets, usually with solemn funeral rights for the grieving pet owner. This time, however, he was the only one in attendance; everyone else had disappeared. Arthur suspected his sons were speculating about what was wrong with Ginny.
The chores continued for an hour or so until Molly came round to announce that Harry had broken up with Ginny at the funeral. "He didn't want her to be more of a target for You-Know-Who. As if we weren't the most famous blood-traitors in the world." She was upset with Harry for hurting Ginny's feelings. Arthur knew that would not last long, but it was an explanation of why Harry had avoided coming to the Burrow on that fateful Friday.
Ron came to Arthur after Molly left. "Harry wouldn't snub Ginny like that; I wonder why Errol couldn't find him. If Harry were dead, Errol wouldn't have been able to find him, would he?"
"I would guess not. You think that's why he returned with the note?"
Ron's answer was a miserable nod.
After lunch Kingsley Shacklebolt's head appeared in the fire. He looked puzzled. "Arthur, I'm working on a report for Minister Scrimgeour, and I could really use your expertise. Will you come to my office?"
With so many of his family upset Arthur was reluctant to leave, but he really owed the Auror so he promised to meet with him.
A short time later he was sitting in Kingsley's office. "Sorry to bother you on a Sunday. Coffee?"
"Sure," Arthur replied. "Black with sugar, please."
The tall Auror returned with a steaming mug of coffee and sat down.
"I understand you looked over the reports of the Granger investigation. I'd like to get your thoughts on the Muggles' conclusions about what happened there."
Arthur spent about fifteen minutes explaining what he knew of the Muggle police procedures. He was puzzled; he would have thought that Shacklebolt knew all of this better than he did. He was also feeling strangely relaxed.
"Tell me what happened after Percy arrived with the files."
Arthur related his discussion with Percy. Kingsley looked interested and asked a few questions. Arthur could tell he was checking his story against something he already knew. He began to feel slightly alarmed.
"What happened after Percy went up to bed?" Kingsley asked.
"I read the files; fell asleep reading them, in fact. Molly woke me up at the table yesterday morning."
"Why did you speak with Filius Flitwick about increasing the protective spells at the Burrow? You did speak with him, didn't you?"
"Yes, it was just a feeling, like some kind of premonition. I don't know why." Suddenly, Arthur realized what was going on. "You've given me Veritaserum, haven't you? Something's happened."
"Come!" Kingsley shouted. Several Aurors entered the office with Percy in tow. Percy looked slightly dazed and Arthur knew he had been questioned also. "First, we need to examine your wand, just a formality." He took Arthur's wand and preformed "Prior Incantato". The only spells that appeared were those Arthur had used in cleaning up around the Burrow. Shacklebolt stopped when the first work related spell appeared. Satisfied he handed back the wand.
Shacklebolt vented a heavy sigh, "Five wizards and a witch were found dead in Ottery St. Catchpole yesterday afternoon. They were dumped in an alleyway and they were all Death Eaters. We needed to know if you were involved. Since you were interested in increased security it was a natural assumption.
Arthur was stunned. "Death Eaters were going to attack us! Why? What happened to them?"
"It's difficult to tell what happened to them. In twelve hours the bodies were savaged by vermin; which has made identification uncertain. That, in itself, is a mystery. The witch, we believe, was Alecto. Her neck was broken. The others possibly were attacked with knives. Since you didn't hear anything, and your wards didn't alert you, apparently there was no magic used.
Arthur sat musing. At last he muttered, "There was no full moon, so it couldn't have been werewolves. My son's fiancée said that she smelled a vampire. Is that possible?"
Kingsley looked dubious, "Smelled a vampire?"
"She's part Veela, her grandmother, I believe," said Arthur.
The tall, black Auror shrugged. "It isn't very characteristic of a vampire. They never call that much attention to themselves. I would think it unlikely a vampire would attack a group of wizards. It is even more unlikely that a vampire would try to get into the Burrow. It would have known that you are a wizard. What brought that thought up?"
"Just the Muggle police report, they mentioned vampires. You discounted that didn't you?"
"Yes, for the same reason. Whoever did that left puncture wounds on the parent's necks. You know, as well as I do that real vampires don't leave wounds."
They all lapsed into silence for long minutes. Each one was absorbed in his own thoughts. At last Percy spoke up, "Any ideas on the identity of the other Death Eaters?"
"Since Alecto was there, one is probably Amycus, her brother. The others seem to have been Goyle, Rookwood, and Terence Higgs. The sixth one is unknown to us."
Percy was surprised, "Terence Higgs, the Slytherin seeker! I didn't know he was a Death Eater, he never seemed the type." He shook his head in disbelief.
"The real question is why; You-Know-Who never bothered about us before. What made him notice us now?" asked Arthur.
The Aurors looked at one another. Kingsley spoke up, "You know how cruel he is. Probably he thought with your preparations for the wedding you wouldn't be ready. He just wanted an opportunity to spread a little more terror."
"We would like the chance to look around, there might be a few more clues to be found," suggested Littleton. "We could come tomorrow to help with your new security and look then. If that is alright with you?"
Arthur readily agreed. "See you tomorrow. Just don't mention any of this to my family. They have enough
troubles as it is."
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Harry woke and sat up on the desk. His first thought was how unusual it was that he never felt any pain from his body, even though he had passed the day in an unnatural or cramped position. The discomfort he felt on waking was the hunger; the second discomfort he felt was a return of the guilt he was feeling last night.
A noise beside him informed him that Hermione was awake as well.
"Why did you feel you had to steal my parent's blood? Wasn't mine enough for you?" Hermione's thought was sharp and hot with anger.
Harry was surprised by her vehemence. "You had lost a lot of blood. I didn't know how much I needed to make you into a vampire. I hadn't fed because I was coming to you for help," he explained.
"Why did you want to make me a monster like you?"
"You…were dying…I didn't know how to help you."
"So you dragged me into Hell with you? I thought we were friends," she snapped viciously.
Harry was deeply wounded by her attack. He was still wrestling with the guilt from the night before, and now Hermione's unexpected attack paralyzed his thoughts. He could only sit with his mouth hanging open.
Seeing Harry was helpless, Hermione continued her assault. "Didn't Dumbledore teach you there were worse things than death? Don't you think being reduced to vampirism to survive is one of them?" Her observations pierced him like arrows.
"Can't you see what you've done to me? All my hopes and dreams are gone!" she complained bitterly. "How could you?"
"What…," Harry gestured helplessly. He desperately wanted to heal Hermione's despair.
Hermione appeared to break down, "I wanted to do something for our world, Harry. I wanted a family and children like my parents had. Now, what good am I? I'm…we're…just some kind of parasite; taking blood from people who have real lives just so we can exist from sunset to dawn."
Harry was crushed; all he was trying to do was help. He could not think of how to explain that his thought processes at the time were so confused. He had only been a vampire for a day. He had not been able to think. Taking his cue from the way she had behaved on Friday night he tried to apologize, "Please, Hermione, I'm so sorry about you and Ron…" Tears of blood began to creep down his cheeks.
Hermione blazed at him again, "Ron? Ron! Don't you understand? What you stole from me went back way before you and Ron came into my life! These are dreams I've had since I was a child, Harry. I've wanted children since I was a little girl. For a time I dared hope they might be ours." Hermione paused, as she began again her thoughts became more strident. "Then after you broke up with Cho you went for Ginny. You never gave me a thought? After all I did for you? Ron was at least available, he thought of me as a girl, even though he hates every thing I think is important. If we'd lived, I might have made it work, or I might have found someone else to love me since you two don't .But you stole that from me. Why couldn't you just have let me die?" Her own tears started to flow.
Harry could not look at her; he was adding another measure to the load of guilt he was heaping upon himself. He could think of nothing to say that did not sound condescending or like he was excusing himself. He felt guilty because he was the one that had made her a vampire.
Hermione swiped at her tears, staring angrily at the blood on her hands. She grabbed her cloak and began to clean her face and hands. Then she stood up straight, squared her shoulders, and looked Harry straight in the eye. "Well, I'm leaving. I'm going now, and I never want to see you again, EVER!"
The force of her thoughts actually rocked Harry backwards. Hermione walked to the door. She slashed her wand and the door opened. She stalked into the basement. It was not hard to follow Harry's path to the stairs, but as she went along she began to slow down. She was just noticing that the world looked different. She was puzzled by the strange things she was seeing. It did not take her long to realize she could see the life energy of the animals and insects around her.
The slowly dawning sense of wonder at her new found powers drained the anger from her mind. Rash action was not a part of her nature; now that she was cooling off she began to think about what she was going to do.
Harry tried to pursue Hermione but the pain of her words took the strength from his heart. He sank to his knees. Hadn't he fought the dementor for her soul? Why couldn't she see how much it cost him to drink her parent's blood? Couldn't she see that he was precious to him? At that moment he knew. She couldn't know because he didn't realize until just now how much she meant to him. Now she was gone.
Hermione was almost to the door leading to the stairs when Harry's voice rang out.
"HERMIONE-E-E, PLEASE DON'T GO-O-O! I NEED YOU-U-U! PLEASE…please…don't," His voice echoed weirdly among all the pipes; but it was his real voice and not the telepathy he had been using. Hermione stopped. Her mind came up with an dozen accusations about Harry's behavior in the past, all the times she had helped him, how he had never said thank you. She had kissed him and he hardly noticed. Slowly, she resumed walking toward the door. She could be free; it would all be behind her. Something new might happen.
As she reached for the doorknob her voice spoke from her memory, "We've had time to turn back, we're not going to." And Ron's voice adding, "We're with you whatever happens…," Whatever had certainly happened; but they had promised. What was she going to do? In all the strangeness and despair one thing had not changed; Harry needed her. It was something familiar she could cling to.
She drew a breath and whispered to the darkness, "Damn you, Harry Potter." She turned around and walked slowly back the way she had come. For two nights she had tried to think, all last night she had thought about her parents and her dreams. She kept experiencing her attack on Alecto, experiencing the feelings of disgust and horror. She looked at her arm. Harry's blood had done the trick, the wound was gone.
Hermione opened the door. Harry was on his knees, staring at the floor, broken in a way she had never seen before. The glimmers of pity vanished in a moment; she despised him for being weak. She had long admired him for his bravery and determination; at this moment he didn't seem to be the Harry she knew.
He looked dully at her, "Well, Harry, what do you need?" she snapped at him.
He looked down at the floor. "I need you to help me find and kill Voldemort. I may have died, but the prophecy says I am the one with the power to vanquish him. He will keep coming after the people I care for until he's dead."
Hermione was silent for a moment and then she thought, "I promised to help you and I will. But that doesn't mean that I don't hate this…and you."
Harry thought quietly, "Hermione, I understand better than you know. It was my fear that brought you under this curse. If I had been able to think clearly I would have let you die, or just left you in the hope that help might have come. I came to you for help, and I fought to keep what I felt I needed. It was selfish of me. Since you will keep your promise to me, I promise that when Voldemort is dead, I will see that you are laid to rest as well."
Hermione was provoked by his reasonable attitude, she wanted to yell at him some more. She was still in pain, still grieving the loss of her parents, her life, her hopes and dreams. "How are you going to do that?" she asked sarcastically.
Harry was stung, he felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach. He felt his vampire nature begin to stir. He fought to keep it under control, but Hermione was trying to hurt him, and it was reacting to the rebellion in its child. Harry was emotionally drained by guilt and Hermione's anger toward him; he just couldn't stop it.
Hermione noticed the change cross Harry's face. His expression became hard, his fangs protruded over his lip. It was an expression the like of which she had never seen before. The power seemed to coalesce within him; it coiled like a snake preparing to strike. He rose to his feet; flexed his fingers and extended his talons. She took an involuntary step backwards.
His very thought hissed at her, "Dance."
Hermione's body began to twitch. She tried with all her will power to stop, but her body began to move in spite of her efforts. She was performing a silly little dance she had learned in primary school.
He pointed at the door. She danced out of the door into the basement. Harry followed her out, and pointed his wand a large pile of old papers. "Incindio," he commanded. The papers burst into flame. "Put your hand into the fire," he smiled. Hermione was chilled at the sight of his fangs.
"No!" she thought. She desperately tried to will her body to stop, but she couldn't even slow down. Step by step she moved to the fire, extending her hand. She knew the fire would burn her, but it made no difference; she was an observer in her own body.
"Stop," he ordered. "Hermione, do you doubt my power now?" he asked, his thought was harsh.
Her eyes had gone wide in fear. Hardly able to think, she just shook her head no.
"When Voldemort is dead, I will make you face the dawn; you will sit on some roof top and enjoy the view." Suddenly, his thought softened and he continued sadly, "When night has fallen I will gather your ashes, and see that you are laid to rest with your parents. Don't be afraid, I will make sure that there will be no pain."
Harry extinguished the fire. Hermione could feel him reign in his vampire nature, and she was shaken to the core of her being by the power he had over her. At any time he wanted he could have stopped her. At the same time, she felt that if she had passed through that door he would have let her go.
He was in control again. "Hermione, I've lost too. Hedwig won't come near me. I looked forward to taking my Apperition test with Ron. Today is my birthday, but I'll never be an adult. I've never had much to dream about, except to have someone rescue me from the Dursleys, and that never really came true. I understand only a little of what you've lost, but I will do all I can to help you through this awful time."
He turned away from her and walked slowly out of the basement. She heard him climbing the stairs. For the rest of the night his thought pierced her anger like a balloon. Every time her sense of injustice began to swell she heard him say, "Today is my birthday, but I'll never be an adult," and it just took something out of her. She had come back to keep her promise, unaware he had bound her to himself with something far more sinister, a bond of blood.