Of Blood and Biting Blades
Hermione writhed, screaming, as the knife bit into her arm again, again. Bellatrix was enjoying this - even though she had demanded information about the Sword of Gryffindor, and she knew Hermione had no more to give her.
The pain didn't stop once the blade was removed. The brand burned, and a tear rolled from her eye as she saw the word on her arm. Mudblood.
"You're barely worth the effort," Bellatrix hissed. "But the Dark Lord values the pure-blooded, and I must feed."
The words didn't pierce Hermione's fogging brain until the fangs also pierced her neck, and the pain redoubled, shooting along nerves like fire.
Vampire, she realised. Her vision flickered at the edges. The sensation of falling overtook her, and yet an unshakeable irony amused her.
"You hate mudbloods," she rasped. "And yet you feed from me. My blood can't be so different, after all."
And she laughed as her vision faded. Her own laughter and Bellatrix's curses were the last things she was aware of.
She woke at Shell Cottage. Everything was a little hazy, yet over-bright. She felt empty; not hungry, but as if all of her insides had vanished. Like she was as much a shell as the ones decorating her windowsill.
"You're awake," a voice said beside her. Hermione turned and saw Bill, smiling grimly. "Well done."
"What for?" She asked croakily.
"Surviving. How did you know?"
Hermione shook her head mutely. She had no idea what he was on about, or how she was here.
"You can only be turned if you volunteer, or if you laugh in the face of death."
Reality crashed down and memories flickered. "Oh shit." She swallowed. "I'm - I was laughing at -" She tugged her sleeve up to expose the wound. "This. And then she-" her hand went to her neck. Bill chuckled, and then doubled over, laughing uncontrollably.
"That would do it," he gasped, wiping his eyes.
"The boys?"
"Safe. With Fleur."
Hermione sat up and winced. Something tugged above her right ear. She patted her hair and flinched at the bird's-nest that met her fingers. "What now?" She asked quietly.
He Summoned a comb. "May I?" He asked. She turned her back on Bill and sighed with pleasure as his fingers began to run through her tangled locks. "Now, you heal. So do the boys. You work through these changes, and we find a way for you to complete your mission. Now, we overcome."
"Why you?" She asked.
"I know a lot about Vampires," he said simply.
The gentle tugging of his fingers and the comb was soothing. She leaned back further. "I know… very little about Vampires," she admitted. "I don't feel that different."
"You don't look that different either. Things won't change much. Vampires aren't like the tales say. You can still eat normal food, but with less nutritional gain. Once a month or so, you'll need to feed, but you don't have to feed to the death. It can be painless, and Obliviate will help. You're not going to lose control. Your magic will feel different; your senses have changed. You don't have more or less power, it will just - just taste, and feel, and smell, now. Everything is more."
His words were soft, and comforting. They eased her worries. Her eyelids drooped.