In Another Time

In Another Time

~*~

“We're feeding tonight.”

“And, how do you expect that to go, Harry?” Ronald's lips twitched at even the suggestion of feeding on something other than animal blood and packets they…collected along the way. “You know that will cause a panic amongst the living—and we can't—“

“Tonight's Halloween,” Harry smirked.

“So?”

“I know you weren't born daft, mate,” Harry's smirk curled into a grin. “But, you see, Muggles and the like…they crave to party. Like any other holiday, and they…drink—“

“Hermione's never had human blood!”

“You underestimate her control.”

“You still think to take her?”

“She asked.”

Ronald hugged himself and shook his head. He then pointed at Harry and said, roughly, “You stay away from her. I mean it, mate. You're with my—“

“No,” Harry stunted Ron. “She and I—Hermione and I have always had a connection Ginevra and I will never have.”

Ron flew at Harry, an inch from his face, fangs out and aggressive. Harry, however, stood defiantly poised. He hadn't shuddered a blink even with Ronald's breathed upon him—that is, if they still breathed.

“If you so dare lay a finger on her—“

“You'll do what?” Harry growled.

“Haven't you been with my sister—didn't you change her—isn't that—“

“She was dying—I saved her. Do you really believe I would let her go? Aren't you happy I saved that bit of your family?”

“She loves you.”

“She's loved me, but she's never known me.”

Ronald sized Harry up, bellowed deeply, “If we hadn't a history, Harry…I'd have ripped your throat out for even suggesting—“

“Do you love her?” Ron's abrupt change felt like whiplash.

Harry's brow rose, his arms folded.

“Don't have me ask it again…”

“We were speaking of your sister—“

“Hermione.” Ron was short. “Do you love her?”

Harry merely settled his brilliant jade green eyes on Ron giving Ron ample to stew in his own thoughts.

“I swear, Harry, your choices will be the end of us—our relationships are holding barely by a thread.”

“Maybe that's because it's always been Hermione holding it together,” Harry concluded. “I lead my own life. I'll take my chances.”

~*~

Only the stroboscopic lights pulsating lit an otherwise severely darkened room. Bodies in every niche, the rise in temperature set at just above a perfect human average. Men and women mingled, danced, drank, all the while a modern, thumping sound pounded the walls, their feet on the floor, and within their heads.

Harry had been dancing with a very attractive dark-skinned woman, and she'd never been happier. With a drink in her hand, she felt of Harry's pectorals, his thick arms, squeezing his biceps and shoulders under a white collared shirt and black vest. He had her enraptured in him, grinning all the while she spoke to him under the flittering lights close enough to caress, amongst other things. Though for Harry's interest lie within that beating heart, the ripe vein in her neck, like the smell of a freshly prepared meal when one hadn't eaten in years.

He bided his time until he had positioned her against the wall. Gently, he kissed her lips, leading down to her beautiful crook. Her head dropped in ecstasy. His ears picked up on her moan when he kissed the hollow of her throat, combing softly her hair as he cradled her to him. Grazing his nose against the throbbing conduit, he savored the moment. He the lion. She the gazelle. He opened his mouth once more…fangs bare…to kiss the lovely…

And, sunk his fangs into her warmed flesh.

Liquid, hot sugary syrup, ran along his tongue.

He felt her body tighten.

Heard a noise he'd only heard from women at the ripe of climax suppressed under the volume of chatter and song.

He pulled his head away, her blood on his jaw, his chin, dripping down along his own throat.

Keen in his sensory, he knew no one would notice—as some even came to the party in fake paint applied as the messy reality on his shirt collar. He had made sure to lap what was necessary, no sign of puncture holes but two small dots now healing on her delicate skin.

His dark eyes set upon hers, and she kissed him.

He smiled when she fell backward, drunk between drink and pleasure.

He watched the delicious human begin to wriggle in her dancing, and he took the opportunity to turn around, to see Hermione in the distance.

The beauty had found herself a lovely, too, her head buried into the girl's neck. He saw her head jerk away, the stroking lights capturing Hermione's smile and the glistening of wetness in lines from the corners of her lips. In a little black dress and heels, she, too, found herself in that moment—when the sweetness swelled within in them, the feeling of a thousand jolts of endorphins swimming within you all at once.

Harry noticed, as Hermione, her hands all in her wild hair as she danced like everyone else, had gotten extra messy…lines of blood having trickled down her throat and atop what was bare underneath.

Harry grinned mischievously when Hermione's eyes caught his, and she, too, smiled.

With the strong beats, Harry sauntered over to his beauty covered in blood, having the time of her life.

She looked to be in control.

She looked to be gorgeous.

She was gorgeous.

Gorgeous.

They were dancing to those beats, their shoulders together when she took his hands. He felt the wetness within them and lifted her fingers to taste what she had. He watched her eyes close, her hands leave his when he was finished to place them around his neck.

Her arms, her hands left him, dancing completely in her bliss.

His hand went to run itself down her hair, getting the strands sticky where he combed.

What they had been through.

And, now…

They gazed at each other in the palpitating light.

He was still Harry.

And, she was still Hermione.

Neither could think of anything else but each other in that moment.

Not even the obvious, with human essence staining their skin and clothes.

She reached to his neck, his chin where she wiped without restriction to further quench her appetite. He saw her place those fingers of her hand to her mouth and devoured, savored what he obtained.

With her head tilted back, that signature smile on her face…

He pulled her to him in their intimacy and went for the underside of her chin, her throat where he licked the remnants from her form. She held his head, and he could hear her rhapsody escape. Their bodies never stopped, moving to the throes of the party. She tightened her grip of him as he cleaned her, pushing further his face into the crook of her neck, leading further down her chest.

He lifted from her and held his sight on Hermione's.

She had his face in her hands, their noses touching, their bodies continuing their revel.

He heard her giggle ecstatically, rolling her head back.

He kissed her throat, her jaw, to have his eyes focus farthest from them at a growing pair.

Ginevra stood in the distance, watching.

~*~

{Musical inspirations: the sexy beats of Feel So Close by Calvin Harris}

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