The hotel bar was quiet except the tinkling of keys from the piano player. Hermione Granger sat at the bar, apple martini in hand. She sighed. For four months she had been on tour with her new book, a translation of The Tales of Beedle the Bard with Albus Dumbledore's notes. It seemed that high society life was taking a toll on the young witch's life, as she felt drained from the constant traveling and publicity. Every day she needed to smile for some cameraman, and her hand ached from all the autographs. So, under her publicist's persistence, she came down to the Muggle hotel bar and ordered herself a much needed drink.

Not being a drinker, Hermione picked what the bartender recommended. She enjoyed her apple martini, sipping it gently as she tried to get used to the taste. It was sweet and sour, tasting slightly like sweet Granny Smith apples. The bartender added a few cherries to the mix. It tasted delightful.

Deep in thought, Hermione went over in her mind how she got where she was. The last few months had been a whirlwind of events, first starting off when she found out that she was being published. Then the book had been an instant hit. Witches and wizards all over the world flocked to their nearest bookstore and plucked the book off the shelves. Newspapers and radio wanted to do interviews with her. People wanted her autograph. Her picture even made front page of The Daily Prophet for not only having a best seller but having a book selling so many copies in over a century, beating out Lockhart by millions. The pandemonium of fame sent Hermione's mind reeling.

Even her personal life took a drastic change. Everyone wanted to get to know her, and old acquaintances demanded a lot of her attention. Some even asked for money. Harry and the Weasleys, thankfully, never changed. They remained her closest family, sans her biological family. Her parents were just as proud when they found out that their daughter was such a success in the wizarding world. She had never felt so loved before, despite the constant roller-coaster of emotions she felt on a daily basis. Really, she thought, she finally understood what Harry had felt for all those years. Having fans was a strange feeling, and the constant attention from someone other than friends and family unnerved her.

So the twenty-four year old found herself sitting in a dimly lit American Muggle bar, sipping on an apple martini all while contemplating. Sliding her fingers around the glass's edge, she almost didn't pay attention to the man that sat down next to her. She didn't bother looking at him, but she pulled her purse a bit closer to her body just out of precaution. The bartender gave the man a one over before going back to cleaning glasses.

"Mind if I buy you a drink?" a suave voice offered, and it took Hermione a few beats to realize that the man was talking to her.

"No thank you," she replied, eyes on her sliding finger.

"A beautiful woman like yourself looks like she needs a drink," he insisted, and from the corner of her eye, Hermione saw the man wave over the bartender. When the bartender stood in front of Hermione, the mysterious man said, "I'll have a shot of your best whiskey and another fruity gem for the woman next to me."

"Oh, you really don't have to," Hermione began, turning her stool to the left to finally face him. When she did, she nearly pulled her wand out of her purse. The man - no, vampire, she told herself - had dark red irises instead of a normal coloring. While he was quite handsome, with dark shaggy locks that fell in front of his abnormally pale face, his eyes were near black.

He was hungry.

"I'll buy a drink for any beautiful woman I see," he replied with a wink. Hermione nearly flinched when he extended his hand to her. "My name's Garrett."

"Hermione," she greeted stiffly, not grasping his hand. His face fell for a moment before he placed his hand on his thigh. He tried again.

"What's a woman like yourself doing all alone in a hotel bar?" he asked, taking the shot of whiskey from the bartender. Hermione ignored the new glass of apple martini that was placed in front of her.

With eyes narrowed, Hermione replied coolly, "I fail to see why that's any of your business."

Did the vampire really expect her to fall under his spell? With a soft scoff, Hermione brought her glass to her lips and downed the last of her drink. The vampire's face remained impassive as he barked out a laugh. "Hard to please, aren't you? I like that in a woman."

"That's nice for you," Hermione bit out, finally slinging her purse over her shoulder. "It was nice to meet you, Garrett, but I must be going."

She flinched when his cold hand found hers. "Maybe we can get a drink some other time."

"Maybe," Hermione said stiffly, swiftly tugging her warm hand away from his freezing one. Standing up from her seat, the witch nodded to the bartender before giving the vampire a glare. The vampire gave her a toothy grin before chugging his shot of whiskey. Appalled and quite creeped out by the situation, Hermione pulled out her wand the moment she was safely away from the Muggle bar patrons. Clutching it close to her chest, she made her way to the elevators.

She nearly shrieked when the vampire pushed his body into the elevator the last second, leaving her alone with him. Whistling to himself, the vampire gave her a cocky grin before telling her, "Same floor. What a coincidence."

"I highly doubt it," she muttered, intending for him to hear her.

The two remained in an awkward silence, the vampire glancing at her every once in a while as Hermione stared straight ahead. Now that he was in a better light, Hermione stared at his reflection through the elevator's mirrored walls. Indeed, he was very handsome though abnormally pale. She would have deemed him as sexy had he been alive. Dressed in a leather jacket and dark jeans, he held himself like any cocky vampire would, as if he was all knowing.

Hermione wondered if he knew that he wasn't going to make a meal out of her.

The elevator dinged when it got to her floor, and Hermione half expected him to kill her right there.

"Nice meeting you again," she said, taking a step forward. When the vampire didn't move, she turned around and slowly walked to her room. She heard his footsteps behind her. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and she gripped her wand closer to her body. If he were to make a scene, she would not hesitate in using magic. A simple Bombarda spell would knock him off his feet and allow her to Apparate into her room. She cursed herself for not Apparating to her room the moment she stepped out of the bar. Of course he'd hunt her down and make her his meal.

With a shaky breath, Hermione stopped mid-step, her heart hammering in her chest. The vampire's footsteps died down, allowing Hermione to take a breath.

That was before she found herself up against the wall, a firm, cold hand wrapped around her neck.

"Foolish witch," the vampire sneered, covering her mouth with his other hand. "Unfortunately for you, I hate the British."

Hermione didn't scream nor did she wiggle away from his grasp. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and brought up her wand arm. The vampire's eyes widened in shock as she performed a nonverbal Bomarda spell. As she expected, the vampire was thrown off his feet and into the adjacent wall.

"Unfortunately for you," she began defiantly, "I'm not an idiot like the rest of your prey."

With that, she Disapparated with a pop!, leaving Garrett lying on his back on the ground. He couldn't help but smirk.

She'd be fun to hunt.

So, this is my new story. I'm taking a break from my other story, as I wish to focus on one story at a time. This story I have so many ideas, I prefer this one over my other ones. As a disclaimer, I don't own anything. As usual, please review, favorite, and alert. Reviews mean the world to me on this site, as do favorites and alerts. Hopefully you enjoyed what I have written, despite being so short. My writing is basic and short, though I'll try my damnedest to make the following chapters longer. Again, hopefully you enjoyed what I wrote, and I'll see you soon. :)