She thinks it started with a curse. A curse that hit her during a raid on a group of Vampires who were dealing in illegal blood sales. Though, she couldn’t say for sure. It didn’t match any curse or spell she had ever encountered before. But, every night when the moon hit the highest point in the night sky, Hermione Granger would turn to stone.
It had been going on for over a year and she was so tired. For, while her body remained in place, her mind did not always do the same. Sometimes, she didn’t fall asleep while her body hardened.
Sometimes, when she would lose track of time, she would turn to stone in the middle of a task. Two nights ago, she had been brushing her teeth when the curse took.
She had gone back to the hideout where she and her team had discovered the coven of Vampires, but any remaining vampire fled. She had to step down from her job as a field agent, and when everyone protested and demanded she change her mind, she numbly took a desk job.
She often found herself dozing at the desk, despite the chaos of the DMLE. She required no quiet, however, for how exhausted she was.
And so, most days, thankful for how bloody tired she was, she would go home and promptly lay down on her bed and allow sleep to take over before the painful process of turning into stone began.
Draco had joined the DMLE exactly two months prior to Granger stepping down from her position. It rocked the entirety of the ministry, when the great Auror and overall badass, Hermione Granger, decided to relegate herself to a desk job. Initially, Draco was thrilled. Still within his probationary stint as an Auror, he had only been on a small handful of field jobs. Losing Granger as an agent, allowed Draco more opportunities and subsequently cut his probationary period in half.
But as her friends began to openly express their concerns with their friend, Draco started to take note of the witches appearance. She was a pretty little thing, whose bright eyes had dulled over the months. Once voluminous chestnut curls now fell limply around her shoulders. And her skin, once kissed by the sun, was so pale, it caused the freckles on her cheeks to stand out in stark contrast.
Over the course of a year, Draco Malfoy tried not to acknowledge the fact that the brightest witch of their age had dulled to a mere shadow, slumped over her desk, often asleep. Cases she had cracked were overshadowed by other cases and those who cracked them. Him, for example, who had managed to wrangle a group of vampires, once thought to have fled Britain, who sold and traded human blood like Chocolate Frog Cards.
It was during this raid that Draco decided he would figure out what was happening to Granger, for as he cuffed a sulky vampire, he managed to catch sight of another vampire who was currently getting searched by Potter and Weasley.
The vampire looked like a shell of a person. The kind who refused blood, or were denied it. Their dull eyes reminded him of Grangers.
And so, when Draco returned to the office and handed his reports to Granger, he didn’t turn away like he normally did as she acknowledged the paperwork tossed onto her desk with another wordless grunt.
No, instead, he sat down on the edge of her desk and waited.
The typing continued, slow and punctuated by long, sleepy blinks of her eyes.
When she failed to respond to his presence, he cleared his throat.
Hermione’s eyes slowly pulled away from the report she was typing up. They climbed up his chest, his neck and finally rested on his eyes.
She blinked once. Twice. And then a bit of clarity pierced into her eyes as recognition settled in.
“Malfoy?” She sounded as if it was the first time she had spoken all day. Maybe more.
“How’re you doing, Granger?”
Blink, blink.
“Did you need something?” She squinted up at him like he was too bright for her tender eyes.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Draco paused as she continued to squint up at him with little intrigue. “I need your help with a case.”
Her eyelids relaxed and she went back to stare at the report she was typing up from a case he had worked on last week. “I don’t work on cases anymore.”
“But you did.”
She continued to tap slowly at the keys.
“The best agent we had, if I recall accurately. And the case I’m working on now reminds me of one you had just before you stepped down.” Draco leaned forward, crossing his arms over his chest. “As a matter of fact, I believe it was the last case you worked on before you quit the field.”
Hermione stilled, her little fingers pausing over the keys of her typewriter. There was no movement, not even the rise and fall of her chest. He didn’t even think she was breathing.
And so, to confirm that she was indeed alive and not petrified, he leaned closer to her ear and said in a low voice only she could hear, “Vampires.”
She blinked as a slight shudder ran through her. “Vampires?” She continued typing. “I seem to recall the case being closed. Illegal Blood merchants. But, they didn’t just sell blood, they enslaved humans and used them as currency as well.”
A hint of the witch everyone used to know was there, Draco thought, just under the surface, like that thin membrane beneath the shell of an egg.
“Right, well, we found another group of them. And we have one in the interrogation room. Would you mind coming to watch with me as Potter questions him?”
Draco watched as her throat bobbed with a swallow. Her limp hair was pulled into a simple ponytail high on her head and it allowed his eyes access to the slender neck that bore no scars. No sign of bite marks on soft skin.
“I, uh, don’t think that’s wise.” She rasped, but she looked more alert than she had in months and months.
“Just as an observation,” he assured her. “In case anything stands out to you.”
Hermione shook her head. “No, I don’t think so, Malfoy. I quit that line of work. I just want to type up reports and file them.”
Draco sneered, “That’s a lie.”
He watched her nostrils flare before she moved. She stood from her desk, shoving her chair away with a bit more force than he thought her frail looking body should be able to emit.
“I have to go.” Her eyes darted around the room and he could have sworn that she was beginning to hyperventilate.
“What’s the matter, Granger?” Draco stood and watched her like a hawk.
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I mean, I don’t feel too good. I have to go.”
Draco watched, slightly alarmed and a little amused as Hermione ran from the office. She didn’t return.
The sallow faced man sat in the cold, sterile room and appeared to be dozing off by the time Potter entered the room. The man barely reacted as Harry pulled out a chair opposite him and sat down.
Dark, vacant eyes stared at the wizard with little interest. His flat, stringy hair hung around his face, falling just beneath his shoulders.
“Can you state your name for the record?”
The man took short, shallow breaths. “Anatoly Agapov.”
“What were you doing at 1080 Ellerman avenue this morning?”
Anatoly licked at his dry, cracked lips and leaned back in the chair. “Whatever I was ordered to do.”
Draco watched through the two-way mirror. Watched the man’s eyelids droop, as if he were on the verge of dozing off.
“Are you a vampire?” Harry asked.
Anatoly’s eyes slowly opened and settled his vacant stare on the mirror behind Harry. “I don’t know what I am.” He confessed and then scoffed. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Why would I be able to tell you?”
“Maybe the vampires you caught can tell you what they did to me.”
“Did they drink your blood?”
Anatoly paused to think about the question. “No, I don’t think so…”
“Did you ever drink blood?”
Anatoly licked his lips. “At times.”
“Do you need to drink blood? Crave it?”
Those dark eyes squinted in thought. “I don’t know. I am always hungry but I have no appetite.”
“Were you there with the Vampires by force?”
Again, Anatoly appeared to be trying to recall memories. “Maybe at some point? But in the end, where else could I go? Wherever I went, I was alone.”
The words caused the hair on Draco’s arms to stand, as he wondered if this was the way Granger felt. She looked lonely, completely withdrawn.
Draco wanted to go in and ask his own questions, but he had wanted to sit in here with Granger and therefore didn’t push Potter. Now he was alone with more and more questions. More concerns.
“Can you tell me about your time with the Vampires?” Harry asked, his voice still firm but gentle enough to help relax the subject.
“I can tell you what I can recall but when I was awake, they were asleep.”
“Why is that?”
“I am not nocturnal. But I don’t think I am diurnal either. My eyes still see at night but my mind never rests. I don’t know if I sleep at all to be honest.”
“Did you ever see them engage in illegal activity?”
“They created me. That should be illegal.”
“What did they do to you?”
Anatoly’s eyes began to well up with tears. His chin trembled as he shook his head. “I don’t know.” He whispered through silent sobs.
Harry sighed, and the speaker connected to the two way mirror was nearly silent. Only the gentle sobs of the man across from Harry.
Quietly and gently, Harry excused himself from the interrogation room.
Draco turned to the door when Harry entered. Frowning, he looked at the window where the man continued to sob. “What do you think?” Harry asked Draco, nodding toward Anatoly. He was beginning to sober up, his eyes drifting over the room. The large mirror that allowed them to watch him like an exhibit.
Draco rubbed his chin. “I think there’s something very wrong with him.”
“Clearly.” Harry scoffed. “Think he’s gone mental with whatever they subjected him to?”
Draco watched the man. He looked more alert than before. “Ask if he was there during the raid with Granger.”
Harry lifted a brow but didn’t ask questions.
When he returned to the room, Harry brought a the man a cup of coffee.
Anatoly looked at the cup and frowned. “I wish this still worked.”
“How long have you been stuck with the vampires?”
Anatoly sighed, took a sip of coffee leaned back in his chair. There was something off about the shift in the man’s behavior. He looked more at ease, like a switch had been flipped. Or a different man sat with them.
“About a hundred years.” He shrugged. “Give or take.”
This caused Draco to lean back in his seat in alarm.
“Were you with them a little more than a year ago? The last time this group got raided?”
A slight tug at the corner of Anatoly’s mouth, a faint glint in his dark eyes. “I believe I was.”
Harry was purposefully quiet. Anatoly reacted as Draco had hoped. His fingers danced along the table top. “Your department was very successful that day, if I recall correctly.”
Harry shrugged.
“You caught many of the vampires and saved several humans. There was one woman, I recall, who looked so…”. Anatoly loosened a longing sigh. His fingers stilled on the table. He shook his head. “Yes, I was there. But I managed to escape before the rest of the team made it through the door.”
Draco found that interesting. He had not known the specifics of the raid but now he knew that Granger was the first one through the door.
Anatoly was let go. There was no solid evidence that could lead them to charge him with any of the crimes the vampires caught were charged with.
After signing off on all of the reports and charges against the dozen vampires they rounded up, Draco left the office.
Granger lived in a little flat in Diagon Alley just above Flourish and Blotts. It was just after sunset and Draco was a little nervous, if he were to be honest with himself. If Granger was, in fact, a vampire of some sorts, she would most likely be her most active beginning now.
Still, he crept up the stairs that led to her flat, careful not to place too much weight on the old wooden steps.
There was no noise he could discern through the thin wooden door. He pressed his ear more firmly against it and held his breath. Nothing.
And then, there.
A sniff. Like she had been crying.
Bracing himself, Draco silently unlocked the door and slid inside. Quickly casting a cushioning spell on his boots, he crept across the living room and followed the sound of soft sobs coming from the kitchen.
He found her standing at the sink, staring out into the darkening sky. Her arms were folded over her front, hugging herself and her shoulders shook with the quiet pain she shed.
There was something woefully difficult about hearing the witch cry quietly. A moment of grief, all alone.
“Granger?” His voice might well have been thunder cracking in the quiet kitchen.
Hermione jumped and held her wand out. Tears streaked her face and red, puffy eyes widened at the sight of him.
“Malfoy?” Her brows knitted together in confusion. But her features quickly transformed. She looked alarmed, upset. Afraid. She glanced at the clock on her wall, then outside the window. “What are you doing here?” She set her wand down on the counter.
“I wanted to check up on you.” He took in the soft black leggings and the beige, oversized knit jumper she wore. Her feet were bare, and her hair was pulled into the same ponytail, but several strands hung loose around her face. She didn’t look entirely well, but she didn’t look all that sick, either.
She looked skeptical. “Well?” She held her arms out and the sleeves of her sweater pooled over her hands. “I’m here and I’m fine. I’ll be back in to work in the morning.”
Draco eyes her and stepped further into the kitchen. “You’re not fine.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “You haven’t been fine for over a year.”
That fear he had glimpsed a moment earlier returned to her eyes.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m fine, now please just leave me alone.” Draco shook his head. Slowly, he began to shrug his jacket off. Hermione's eyes flashed to the wand holster strapped around his torso.
Tossing the jacket onto a chair at the small kitchen table, he held up his hands, an attempt to keep her calm.“ I can’t do that.”
“What are you talking about?” Her anxiety was growing, the tendons in her neck tightening as she gulped mouthfuls of air. “Go home, Malloy.”
“What happened to you, Granger?”
“Nothing!” She shuffled backwards. Her back pushed into the counter.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Granger. I want to help you.” A tiny bit of light crept into her eyes.
“You cant.” She whispered.
“You don’t know that.” He shook his head and chanced another step closer.
He had never seen the witch look so vulnerable. And so damned resigned. As if she had found herself on a deserted island and had, long ago. given up on being rescued.
“Hermione,” He sighed. “You don’t have to be alone.”
Fresh tears sprung forward and ran freely down her cheeks. She swallowed through a tight throat. “I don’t-” She paused and shook her head. “I’ll be alright, Draco.” She sniffed and shoved the tears from her face. Angrily, with the palms of her hands. “Just go home. I’m tired and I need to rest.”
He knew he should have pushed harder. Something deep in his gut told him to stay there, to grab her hand, maybe even wrap an arm around her.
But he didn’t.
He relented and gave her a sad nod of his head. But before he left, he told her, genuinely, “When you’re ready, please come to me.”
She nodded but didn’t say a word as he watched him grab his jacket, and leave her sad little apartment.
The following day, she was back at her desk, dozing off in between reports being typed. Her friends had long ago stopped trying to push her. Potter often watched her from his office door, left ajar as if to keep an eye on the floor, and stared at her with a look of devastation.
Draco understood now, why. He knew that something terrible had happened to her, but everyone just thought she had been depressed. And she was, clearly, she was. But something was consuming her, robbing her of sleep and joy. Robbing her of life. And every day, Draco greeted her with a hand on her shoulder. A smile and a nod. He attempted to push warmth into her cold body. But every day, she stared at him with a mix of pain and sadness. She didn’t smile, only nodded her greeting.
And she never came to him for help.
Hermione was worried.
Because Draco Malfoy was watching her, closely. It made it harder for her to sleep. Made it difficult for her to remain focused, when she was already struggling so bad to be connected to the rest of the world.
And Draco seemed to sense that something had happened to her during that last raid on the Vampire coven over a year ago.
How was someone she had hardly spoken to in almost ten years, able to figure that out? How, of all people, was Draco Malfoy attentive enough to her that he was beginning to sniff her out?
Sure, he was not such a terrible wizard. Not since that last year during the war.
But they weren’t friends. And he was just as competitive as she had been when she was an Auror in the field.
What if he suspected what she was and maybe he saw her as some sort of magical threat. Maybe he needed to bring her in.
What if, when he arrested her, she was handed over to another department for testing. She knew the Department of Mysteries often pulled in subjects from cases that puzzled the rest of the Ministry. Perhaps, Hermione would find herself subjected to being poked and prodded.
Of course, there were times when she had considered it herself. Had considered walking herself into the Department of Mysteries and offering herself up. Because then, maybe she would get some answers.
Instead, she remained pulled away from the world. Relegated to some form of reverse Gargolyism, she didn’t know how to interact with the world anymore.
But Draco, he still reached out to her. His hand was warm against her could shoulder. His eyes bright and disarming.
She wanted to cave. She wanted to throw her arms around him and cry and bed for help.
She didn’t.
For she was certain that, eventually, she would never find a cure and would live the rest of her life withering away until maybe, one day, she would remain stone forever.
Anatoly Agapov was beginning to cause problems around the city.
Of course, Draco didn’t know at the time, that it was Anatoly, when he began to get calls of break-ins around the city. The tenants of the homes he broke into were harrassed. They were questioned by the mysterious man while being bound to a chair or their bed. Sometimes, the victims told Draco and his team that the man would be agitated and would end up drinking blood from one of them. The victims never turned into vampires themselves. They merely served as a source of nutrition for the intruder.
When the suspect didn’t drink blood from any of the victims, he would question them on who they were. He wanted to know who they knew.
Draco realized, early on, that the maybe vampire was looking for someone specific.
Every victim described the man exactly the same.
A slender man with hollow cheeks and dark eyes. Long, stringy hair, and pale skin. “Did he have fangs?” Draco asked them. They said they couldn’t tell but that they didn’t think so because he never actually bit them. He would cut their skin with a swipe of his wand and drink the blood from the wound he inflicted.
“This suspect,” He mused one day, to Potter as they left a victims home. “Does he sound like anyone to you?” He tucked his notepad into his front pocket and frowned up at the sky as the sun began its descent, handing the stage open for the moon as it surely began its ascent.
“Every description reminds me of that bloke we found at the Vampire’s hideout.” Potter nodded and glanced up at the moon. “Have you noticed that he never breaks in at night? Every single break in has occurred during daylight hours.”
Draco nodded. He had noticed that. In fact, that was what caused him to let go of the theory of Anatoly being a vampire.
Perhaps, being with the vampires for so long, he had become accustomed to the taste of blood. Perhaps he had even become addicted to it in a similar way the Vamps were.
“We need to get back to the office and get all our paperwork sorted before we leave.” Harry complained. “We can put in a Miranda Warning for Agapov.”
Draco and Harry worked for an hour filing the necessary reports and eventually issued a Miranda, ultimately alerting the other Aurors to be on the lookout for Anatoly Agapov, as he had no known address.
But it was while Draco was on his way home that he recalled the spark in Anatoly’s eyes when he mentioned Granger at the first raid.
It churned his guts and sent a shiver down his spine. What if, Draco thought, she was who he was looking for.
What if whatever he had done to her, was what was causing her pain. And what if it marked her in a way that caused the maybe Vampire to find her.
When he returned to Grangers flat, he didn’t bother knocking, he let himself in.
He found her sitting on the edge of her bed, staring out her bedroom window. She wasn’t crying, but she didn’t look any less sad than the day he first showed up.
“Hermione,” He leaned against the doorjamb and she gasped, jumping to her feet.
“What are you doing here!” Her voice was almost shrill with panic.
“I need to talk to you.”
“I can’t talk to you tonight, Draco.” She hurried across the room and flattened her hands against his chest. She shoved at him, but he didn’t budge. “You have to go. Please. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, I promise.” She was rushing the words out as if to convince him.
She didn’t.
Draco looked at the clock on her nightstand. It was past eleven at night.
He slid his hands over hers and held them there, still pressed firmly against his chest. “Hermione, I know they did something to you.”
She froze and stared at their hands.
“As a matter of fact, I know who did it.”
Her head jerked up and her eyes looked, for the first time, alive. “You do?”
“Yes, I just don't know what they did.” His fingers slid in between her hand and his chest. They clasped onto the fingers. His thumbs ran soothing lines over her knuckles.
“Are you going to take me in?” She asked and Draco nearly laughed at her.
“What? No!” He moved his hands to her shoulders and crouched to better look her in the eye. “Hermione, I want to help you. I’m worried about you.”
“You are?” Her eyebrows pushed together and he nodded.
For a moment, she stared at him in awe, her eyes roaming his face and whatever she saw there, must have been enough to convince her. For after that moment passed, she threw her arms around his neck and crushed her body into his. She cried into his chest and Draco wrapped his arms around her.
She was hysterical for several minutes, shedding all of her grief until her shoulders finally loosened.
Draco pulled back enough to look at her again. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m afraid it’s better if I show you.” She shrugged. “Do you have anywhere to be tonight?”
Draco ignored the flip of his stomach at her words, nor when she looked back at her bed.
“No, I’m already where I need to be.” He assured her and she nodded, took his hand, and led him over to her bed.
“Can you promise me one thing?” She asked as she slid onto the bed. She was dressed in a similar pair of leggings from last time, but this time, she wore a smooth camisole that shifted and showed a sliver of skin on her belly as she pulled her feet onto the comforter. She didn’t get under the blankets, but laid on top of them.
“Of course.” Draco nodded, and though he tried to fight it, his eyes roamed her body, still curvy despite the sudden weight loss that had attacked her over the last year.
“Please don’t leave.” She swallowed and fought against the tremble of her lip.
Draco sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand. “I wont.”
Hermione jerked her hand back and looked out the window. “It’s almost time.” She looked nervous, like whatever was about to happen, was going to hurt her.
He was nervous. He didn’t understand what was going to happen to her. What could cause such fear and anxiety in such a witch? She rested her head onto the pillow and sighed.
Draco watched her, utterly confused.
And then, she inhaled sharply. She whimpered and closed her eyes tight.
Draco stood from the bed and tried to discern what was causing her pain. He glanced around the room and found nothing. When he looked back down at her, he jumped back in alarm. Her legs were no longer soft but hard and gray. She was turning into stone in front of his very eyes.
It moved up her legs and she swallowed hard as it encased her abdomen, her breasts, her shoulders, and then her face and hair.
Draco shouted for her, he called her name.
She said nothing. Did nothing.
A perfect statue of Hermione Granger lay on her bed, even her clothes had been turned into stone. The statue was just as beautiful as she was, even with the look of pain pressing into the corner of her eyes.
Draco took a step closer and leaned over her. His fingers grazed her hand. Cold and hard, the stone was real. It was smooth. He next moved his hand to her cheek, he grazed the stone and then brushed his fingers over her lips once.
Draco slid onto the bed and placed his hand over hers.
“I’m here, Granger.” He told her, unsure if she could still hear him in there. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “We’re going to figure this out. I promise.”
He proceeded to spend the rest of the night, holding her cold, stone hand.
Hermione could almost feel his touch. It was like soft gust of warm air against her rock hard skin.
And she heard everything he said. She could still see. She saw him lean over her, saw the way his eyes softened as he took her in. As he touched her face, her lips.
And she knew that when he slid onto the bed, he was with her, holding her hand, keeping his promise.
When the sun began to finally shine the first bits of light into the horizon, The stone began to fade away.
She regained total feeling in her face first, followed by the rest of her body, all the way down to her toes.
Draco was till laying in bed, but he was sleeping and his hand tightened on hers as it became flesh once again. She admired him as he slept. The sharp cut of his jaw, the slight curve to the bridge of his nose. She always knew he was handsome, but never once, had Hermione allowed herself to admire the beauty of Draco Malfoy.
For the first time in over a year, Hermione felt lighter.
She also felt braver.
She lifted her free hand and traced the curve of his jaw.
His eyes fluttered before one cracked open. He looked at her with that one eye before the other opened. He blinked two times and the corner of his lip lifted.
“You’re back.” He said, voice rough with sleep.
“I never left.” She shrugged. “Thank you.” Her fingers remained on his jaw and he pressed into them. “You kept your promise.”
He turned his head so that her fingers were on his lips. “Of course I did,” He mumbled into them.
She closed her eyes and inhaled. The feel of his lips were soft, and warm and gods! she missed warmth.
He kissed her fingers and turned on his side. the hand on her other hand tightened. His left hand went to her cheek and pushed an errant curl behind her ear. “What is it like?”
She kept her fingers on his lips, enjoying the feel of his breath and his warmth. “Sometimes,” She began in a whisper. “I fall asleep before it happens. Most of the time, I am awake and it’s almost impossible to fall asleep when its already occurred.”
“Does it hurt?” The space between his forehead crinkled in concern.
“Yes.” She confessed.
Draco looked heartbroken at her confession and the hand at her cheek moved to her hair. He stroked the strands back, a soothing touch that caused her eyes to flutter.
“I’m so sorry, Hermione.”
She shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”
“But I want to take the pain away.” He moved their joined hands to his chest as he scooted closer to her. The warmth of his body pressed into her and she shuddered at how good it felt.
“Will you let me help you?” He asked her as his hand drifted down the side of her face. It settled at the spot between her neck and her shoulder. His fingers smoothed over the skin there over and over, causing her to crane her neck and closer her eyes.
“Yes. But I’m not sure there will be a cure. I’ve exhausted every resource I can think of.”
“But I recently ran into the man who cursed you.”
“Are you certain?” She kept her eyes closed as his breath drifted closer, coasting her face.
“Positive.” She felt his breath against her mouth. She swallowed and her fingers moved to his hip. His shirt had come untucked and she could feel the warm skin exposed between it and his trousers.
“Hermione,” He said her name onto her mouth, but their lips didn’t touch.
“Hmm?” Her fingers moved under his shirt, drawing little circles and stars into his skin.
“Open your eyes.”
She did. He smiled faintly when they met his.
“I wanted to look into them all night.” His confession touched her lips. “I’m going to kiss you, now.” He told her and she nodded.
“Okay.”
He huffed out a little laugh at the way her voice cracked, and she tasted his breath and despite just waking up, it turned her on, the taste inside of her cold, empty mouth.
She moved forward and his lips pressed into hers. The kiss was everything she had craved and missed. She had long ago accepted that she would never feel the warmth of another body for the remainder of her life.
But Draco was warmer than anything she had imagined. His mouth was warm and soft and firm.
His hands moved and snaked around her, pressing their bodies together in a desperate attempted to get closer and closer.
When they finally pulled away, Hermione’s hands were in his shirt, absorbing his warmth, and their legs were tangled together.
She panted into his mouth as he placed several little kisses to her lips.
“Will you come with me, today?”
“Where?” She opened her eyes and he was looking at her like she wasn’t a monster. But something lovely and soft.
“To find Anatoly Agapov. He only works in the daylight hours.” She had left the field work because she was unable to work odd hours but if the man who had done this to her was anything like her, then he was also relegated to moving around in the day time. Leaving the nights open to her curse.
“Okay.” She nodded and he grinned at her.
“I’ve always wanted to work with the world famous Hermione Granger.” He said and then he kissed her again.
Draco had to confess to himself that he had always fancied Hermione. She was beautiful and when he first joined the DMLE, he had enjoyed watching her work. He went on a couple of jobs in the field with her team and watching her was fascinating. And when she would debrief the department on the case she was working on, it was hard not to find the way she spoke alluring.
And then she had all but disappeared into a desk job and life was busy and hectic and he allowed himself to watch her from afar.
Being this close to her, for the first time in years and years, he couldn’t deny that it was magnetic. That allure. And though she was only a remnant of the woman she used to be, it was powerful enough that Draco felt compelled to touch her, kiss her. Hold her.
As they walked through Diagon Alley, he couldn’t help the brush of his hand against hers whenever they shifted closer to move through crowds.
“Tell me about the day it happened.” He told her as they stood on a corner, watching the building of the last victim of Anatoly’s assault.
She squinted up at the sky, bright and cloudless. “I was the first one through the door.” Which was typical, he realized after talking with Potter and Weasley. She always put her safety over her teams. “Most of the suspects were sleeping. But one, obviously, must have been awake. Because I only made it a few steps past the threshold when I felt something hit me.” She chewed on her lower lip and thought about it. “It was cold and it spread from the center of my chest throughout my entire body. It wasn’t as cold as ice, but it was still alarming.”
“Was there a flash of light?”
She shook her head. “I don’t recall any. It was very dark in there. I think I would have noticed it, right?” She sighed. “That night was the first time I turned to stone. It took me several nights to realize that it happened when the moon hit its highest point above us, around midnight, and wears off just as the suns light grazes the sky before it breaks over the horizon.”
“You stepped down the following Monday.”
He recalled the day vividly. She was practically chased out of the office by the Chief Auror, Dawlish. He begged her to reconsider and Hermione, who hadn’t yet succumbed to the torture of a years worth of sleepless nights, had smiled at him. It was sad and frail as she told him that she was finished working in the field. Had preferred to sit at a desk.
Draco knew then, like he knew now, that it was all a lie. But, admittedly, he was rather selfish. He wanted to be a great Auror. He had a lot to repent for, a lot of wrongs to right.
But watching her wither away was painful and the biggest failure of his life to date.
When Hermione nodded, Draco lifted a hand to run a knuckle over her cheek.
“I thought you might be a vampire.” He confessed and she smiled at him.
“I don’t crave blood.” She shook her head and Draco nodded.
“No, but the man who did this to you, he seems to enjoy drinking blood. He doesn’t have fangs, either.” He touched a finger to her lips.
“Malfoy!” Harry’s voice suddenly called.
Both Draco and Hermione turned to see him approaching, Weasley and Williamson.
Draco stepped forward and Hermione slid just behind him.
“Where have you been? I’ve been owling and Flooing all damn morning.”
Draco frowned and looked up at the clock in the center of the alley. It was only eight in the morning. “What happened?”
“Agapov was spotted early this morning by Brooks near Gringotts.” Weasley announced. “Hey ‘Mione.” The usual look of pity and sadness weight in the man’s blue eyes and Draco felt for Hermione. How sick she must be to see that look in her friends’ eyes.
“Did they managed to take him in?”
“No, but we just got word that he was last seen near Flourish and Blotts.”
Hermione grabbed onto Draco’s arm. His hand instinctively reached around to pull her closer. Granger lived above the book store.
Anatoly must have figured out where she lived.
“We need to get an Auror on every corner of Diagon Alley.” Draco grabbed Hermione’s hand and nodded to Potter. “We need to get to Grangers, immediately.”
“Hermione’s place? Why?” Harry looked at her and noticed something about her that made some of the concern he usually had in his face disappear.
“Because I have reason to believe that he is looking for her.”
“Shouldn’t she go back to the station then? We can protect her there.” Williamson asked.
“No, I’m going.” She said before anyone could agree with him. But nobody would have agreed. The three men who knew her better than Williamson did all smiled at her. Nobody wanted to see the old Hermione more than Potter and Weasley, and for that, Draco was grateful.
“Weasley, Williamson; go comb the streets and send word to Dawlish.” He nodded at Potter. “Come with us.”
The three hurried away from the other two wizards. When they reached Granger’s flat, the door was wide open.
Draco stepped in first, followed by Hermione and Potter. All of them had their wands out and it was evident that someone had ransacked the place.
Drawers from her hutch were pulled open. Clothes from her drawers were spilling out into the bedroom.
Nobody remained inside.
But Granger noticed something missing.
“There’s a photo missing.” She told them, pointing to the entry table.
On it, were several photographs of Hermione and her friends. Pictures of Harry and Ginny on their wedding day. A picture of Luna and Neville with Hermione digging through some dirt, all three of them laughing. Pictures of the Weasleys, of her godchildren.
“There’s a photo from Ron’s wedding that’s gone. It’s a photo of the two of us.”
“It’s gone?” Harry asked.
Hermione nodded.
“Why would Anatoly want a picture of you? What’s going on?”
Hermione sighed and looked up at Draco. He didn’t encourage her one way or another. He simply was there and she seemed to appreciate it.
“You remember the raid with the vampires?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, Anatoly was there, right?”
“He was. But I never saw him.” She frowned at where the picture used to be. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” She whispered and Draco could tell that she was fighting back tears.
Harry stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Hermione, what’s wrong? You could tell me anything. I thought you knew that.”
She nodded, pressing her lips together. She took a deep breath and then she finally told her best friend about her curse. She told him everything. About the day it happened, how it has slowly been driving her mad. How Draco began to reach out to her.
When she finished speaking, Harry looked up at Draco. “And you figured it out?”
Draco nodded and slid an arm around Hermione’s shoulder, holding her close to his side.
Harry, to Draco’s surprise, looked thoroughly relieved at the sight of them. “I wish you would have felt comfortable enough to tell me but, I get it.” He smiled at her and a little bit more of that light filled her eyes.
Nobody found Anatoly that day, but Draco didn’t let Granger stay home. He took her to his flat several blocks away.
“I can’t believe you’ve always lived this close to me.” She mused as she looked out his window, down at the street below as the sun began to set. Draco stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder.
“One of my favorite things is to see you grab a cup of coffee on the way to work every morning.” He nodded out the window, gesturing to Colettes Coffee & Tea.
She turned to smile up at him.
The smile was so Hermione, so soft and sure that he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again. Couldn’t stop the way his body warmed with his need for her.
Hermione responded in kind, digging her hands into his hair, molding her body into his.
She started to remove his jacket, and unbutton his shirt. Draco wondered if she had been with anyone since she had been cursed, as she moaned into his mouth at the feel of his skin against hers.
He removed his haulster, and allowed her to slip his shirt off of his shoulders. Draco lifted her shirt over his head and pulled away to look at her. She was thinner than she used to be but no less beautiful. Her body was soft and smooth and her breasts filled his hands perfectly. She nearly clawed at him, struggling to remove his belt and he enjoyed her determination as she finally puled the belt from its buckle.
Draco slid her pants off with ease, and lifted her into his arms as he walked them to his bedroom. She wrapped her legs around his hips as they kissed and when he laid her down on the bed, she kept him closer, her ankles hooked around him, pushing him into her.
He felt the soft center between her thighs and thanked the fates when she begged him to take her. To fill her with himself.
For a woman who turned into stone every night, she remained incredibly soft. She was warm wrapped around him, and while it might not have been love they were making, it was something incredibly close to it. It was sensual and passionate. It was the best sex Draco ever had and she was giving. Good Godric, was she giving. She wanted to touch him, to taste him. She said he was warm and she needed him.
She wanted swallow the warmth, she said but Draco stopped her because when he came, he wanted to be burried deep inside of her. He wanted to be wrapped around her body, cradling her like she might break if he didn’t. He wanted to come with her, or at the very least directly after her.
And so he did.
When they finally untangled themselves, her eyelids were heavy. A soft smile pulled at her lips as he nestled into the bed, tucking a hand underneath her cheek.
Draco was in awe as she fell asleep in his bed, pleased and content.
And when the moon settle high into the sky, Hermione didn’t flinch as she turned to stone.
Hermione woke the next morning well after she returned to flesh and bone.
Draco wasn’t in bed but she could hear him in the kitchen. She could smell coffee and eggs and bacon.
Still naked, she dragged herself out of bed and picked up the knickers and bra left strewn about his room. She entered the kitchen and found him folding her shirt and pants from last night.
“Good morning.” She stretched and yawned and Draco looked up at her and smiled. She realized then, as his smile sent warmth into her chest, that she had woken feeling more rested than she had in over a year.
He was already dressed in a pair of black pants, his typical dragon hide boots and a black long sleeve oxford. He looked incredibly handsome with his uncombed hair, his wand haulster on but not buckled.
She thinks that if she could go back in time, she would have asked him out when he first joined the DMLE. Maybe, if she had dated Draco, she never would have been cursed. Maybe he would have been with her, and together, they would have seen the perpetrator before he could strike her.
“I was going to set these closed on the bed for you, but now I think I’ll keep them. I much prefer you like this.” He said, setting the clothes down on the kitchen counter.
Hermione grinned, and it was genuine and she almost cried at how good she felt.
Instead, she hurried over and attacked him. With her hands and with her lips. She ran her fingers through his hair and her mouth over his jaw, causing him to groan.
“Careful,” He warned in a low voice. “If you’re not careful, I’ll keep you here all day and we’ll never catch Agapov.”
She hummed in response but kept running her lips over his neck, his ear.
“Hermione,” Her name was a plea on his lips.
She pulled back to find his grey eyes heated and darkened with want.
“Sorry.” She bit her lip and stepped back. “I haven’t felt this good in so long.”
“I want to ensure that you always feel this good,” He pushed hair from her face and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Potter’s going to meet us downstairs in about fifteen minutes. Do whatever you need but please eat something.” He urged.
She did. She found that she had an appetite for the first time in months. After quickly finishing her plate and chugging her coffee, she used his shower and threw her clothes back on from last night.
She had just stepped into the living room when a mans voice startled her.
“There you are.”
In the living room, Draco was tied to a chair by magical binds and beside him stood a man with dark, shaggy hair. He was very thin and she might have thought him frail but having managed to tie up and gag Draco, then he had to deceptively strong. Draco was one of the fittest wizards in the department.
“Who are you?” But she already knew. It must have been Anatoly Agapov.
“I am yours, my love.” He crooned and Draco struggled beneath his binds, angry eyes focused on Anatoly.
“You’re the one who cursed me.”
He sucked through his teeth and took a step toward her. She spotted Draco’s wand on the floor, near the back leg of the chair.
“Why did you do it?” She asked, standing her ground.
“Because you’re lovely.”
“But what are you?”
“We are one of a kind!” He rejoiced and lunged for her but she was quick. Quicker than she had felt in forever. Maybe it was the life Draco had breathed back into her, or maybe she was also deceptively strong. But she managed to jump away and pull her wand at the same time, sending a hex at him.
He jumped and dodged it, but scowled at her from his crouched position.
“Tell me what you are.”
“What we are, my love. We!”
“Fine,” She held her wand out, her grip strong and stead. “What are we?”
“We are protectors.”
“Like Gargoyles?” Hermione frowned. Because she had considered that to be the case but Gargoyles typically turned to stone during the day, not at night.
“We are a special kind.” He nodded. “We protect the Vampires while they sleep.”
Shock ricochet throughout Hermione’s mind. Draco had told her that Anatoly claimed to be at least a hundred years old.
“Who created you?” She glanced over at Draco, who had managed to free one hand. But he was still tied to a chair with ropes made of magic. He only needed to summon his wand.
“I don’t know. I don't remember life before this.” He admitted.
She had to distracted him. She needed to give Draco a chance to free himself. “Why did you wait so long to come and find me?” She glanced to Draco and then the wand on the floor.
He followed her eyes and nodded.
“I’ve been looking for answers. I’ve been so lonely!”
“I was afraid you would hate me.” His wand hand lowered, just a fraction of an inch.
“Weren’t you lonely, too?” She asked him, lowering her wand and stepping toward him.
“Of course, love. It’s why I spelled you.”
Draco silently summoned his wand, and it drifted into his hand with ease.
“But I’m here now,” He stepped toward her and Hermione saw the wild gleam of hope in his eyes.
She forced her shoulders to relax. “Will we sleep better, now that we’ve found each other?” She knew that if she cared for him the way he thought he cared for her that they would sleep better. Because she had found Draco and his feelings for her already caused her to sleep better.
Anatoly lowered his wand and opened his arms for her. “I think so.” His lip trembled. “I hope so.”
She stepped toward him, was about to hug him, when he suddenly flew back from her. His wand flew across the room and into her hand.
Draco walked over to the poor man and pointed his wand into Anatoly’s throat. He crouched over him and whispered into his ear.
Hermione couldn’t hear what he said but the man began to sob as he held his hands out in fear.
“Please,” He sobbed and pleaded but Draco simple stood and lifted a brow.
This was the Draco she remembered from the few times they worked together. He was serious when working and he looked deadly. Menacing.
“Okay, okay.” He cried, panicked. “I’ll do it, I swear.”
Draco didn’t lower his wand from the Anatoly’s throat as he stood. Didn’t flinch as he said to Hermione, “Hand him his wand, Granger.” Hermione’s eyes widened in shock but Draco’s wand dug deeper into Anatoly’s throat. “Do it.”
She swallowed and handed the wand over to the wizard.
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he accepted the wand. He pointed the wand to Grangers chest and she stepped back in alarm. Draco stopped her with a hand to her back.
Anatoly’s fearful eyes latched onto hers. “I was so tired of being alone.” He whispered. Hermione started to cry, understanding his turmoil.
She nodded. “I know.”
Anatoly muttered a spell she couldn’t recognize. It was in a different language. Slavic, she guessed, but was unsure which branch.
A blast of warmth hit her chest and she stumbled back in alarm but Draco’s hand remained firmly against her back.
When Anatoly dropped his wand and fell to the floor in tears, Draco stepped back and picked up the dropped wand. Pocketing it, he looked over his shoulder to where Hermione was still standing.
All of the cold left her bones, replaced by a warmth that soothed and healed. In a matter of seconds, her entire body returned to a normal temperature and she felt the shift that had taken place.
The curse had been lifted and even though the apartment began to fill with Auror's led by Harry, she couldn’t move. She was elated by feeling the release from the curse but she felt devastated by Anatoly’s pain.
As Draco cuffed Anatoly’s hands behind his back, Hermione placed a warm hand to his arm.
“Can we please try to help him?”
Anatoly was limp in the shackles, but twitched at her words.
“How?” Draco asked, softening his gaze as it met hers.
“I think the Department of Mysteries might have the means to find out how.”
Draco peered down at her for a moment, reading something in her expression. And then he nodded and called Potter to send word to Dawlish about the request.
That night, Draco and Hermione laid down together on her bed and waited.
They didn’t make love, but they held hands as they waited and waited for the moon to make its trek across the sky.
“Do you think it worked?” She asked him, threading their fingers together.
Draco nodded.
“How did you convince him to undo it?”
His eyes brightened and a smile slid into place. “I told him that I knew how to permanently turn him into stone. That all I had to do was force him to drink a potion made by a group of dark wizards and he would forever remain set in stone.”
“You lied.” She said it with a mix of alarm and laughter.
She might have been touted as a great Auror once but she thinks watching Draco work was one of the most fascinating things she had ever seen.
“Of course I did.” He smirked. “It worked, didn’t it?”
She frowned. “Maybe.” She sighed but Draco shook his head.
“Look,” He jerked his head toward the window.
She craned her neck and looked out to find the moon full and high in the sky. She looked over at the clock and saw that it red ten after midnight.
“It worked.” Wonder and hope and disbelief filled her, coated her words.
Draco slid closer and kissed her on the tip of the nose. “You’re free.”
Hermione laughed and cried. She threw her arms around him and kissed his mouth.
Because, he was right. Hermione was warm and light and full of joy.
She was free.