Disclaimer: I own no part of HP, all rights to JK and co, no profit is made here.

AN: Oo, finally, another chapter! Sooo...the end is not exactly what I was expecting, but I hope it sends you all into the appropriate tizzy. :D

Severus awoke early, at dusk. The first thing he noticed was that Hermione was no longer in his flat. He couldn't detect that exotic floral note on the air, or the quick, nervous beating of her heart. For a wild second, he thought he might be disappointed she wasn't still there. Then the second thing he'd noticed kicked in and he was too hungry to care.

Rising from his sleeping place, he stumbled out to the kitchen, intent on slaking his thirst.

"I'm famished," he mumbled in surprise as he popped open a bottle and let the blood slide heavy across his lips.

"Is it any wonder?" said Draco from behind him and Severus turned and shrugged.

"You're still here," he said. Draco snorted.

"Of course I'm still here. I had to make sure you'd be alright after our adventure last night."

"My adventure."

"Oh, no. Ours. Especially considering as how she's at my flat right now."

At that, Severus turned and raised his brows. "Are you sure you should be telling me that, since it's obvious you don't trust me when it comes to her?"

"Please. I revoked your invitation months ago."

"In my time of need."

"In your time of weeping blood on my good carpet every night for two weeks like a giant baby," Draco snapped. His brow cleared as Severus smirked and turned back to his bottle. He went on smoothly. "So, she's taken care of. Are you?"

"Whatever do you mean, my dear boy?"

Draco sighed. "You just said you're famished."

"I don't want your blood," Severus replied in a flat tone and Draco shrugged.

"I wasn't offering. I restocked your refrigerator today. They were out of the good stuff. Seems there was a panic today because of the attack on the corner store last night. Someone may have spread rumors that it was protestors intent on destroying the synthetic blood in a series of organized attacks."

"You mean you've linked that robbery to vampires? Are you out of your –"

"Mind? No, as a matter of fact. I'm brilliant. They would've linked it to vampires anyway because of the broken bottles near the counter. I just provided the possibility that rather than it being a vampire buying blood who was attacked, it was a vampire-protestor trying to make a statement. But don't thank me yet," Draco added snidely. Severus rolled his eyes.

"I won't."

"Oh, and thanks so much for butting in earlier."

"There's no need to lord it over the poor thing."

"So she's a 'poor thing' now?"

Severus looked away, sullen and took another long pull on his bottle. "You know what I mean," he mumbled around it. Draco crossed his arms.

"No, I don't, actually. For someone who insists I'm the one who thinks she's pretty…"

"You do. That was the truth, at least."

Draco threw up his hands. "Fine, fine. So poor, talented, lauded Hermione Granger has to be protected from the knowledge that her childhood sweetheart is a cheating bastard. I'm sure she'll thank us for that, Severus."

Severus set his bottle down on the kitchen counter and stared at the cupboards, brooding. He finally shook his head and blinked.

"You're right," he said quietly.

"What's that?" Draco replied, cupping an ear. "I don't think I heard you properly."

"You did. Don't antagonize me, boy."

"Stop making it so easy and I won't. Now, what the hell am I supposed to be right about?"

"Everything!" Severus shouted, whirling about, fangs out, chest heaving with breaths he didn't need to take.

Draco went very still, then backed away a few inches – his only concession that he ever found Severus frightening.

"Alright," he said, his voice soft. "Everything, then. Which everything?"

Severus ran his hands up into hair that hadn't felt like his own for a very long time. It was too silken, too straight and perfectly smooth, not a greasy knot to be found. He suddenly remembered the way Hermione had looked at him, such shock and…appreciation. The desire he'd felt earlier, through Draco, hit his gut hard and he rested back against the counter, feeling for the bottle. It was empty and he took one look at it before throwing it across the kitchen to smash into pieces at the bottom of the sink. Draco didn't blink, but he did look a bit pale.

"That everything?" he murmured. "Really?"

"Don't make me say it," Severus panted, digging in the refrigerator for another bottle.

"You like her that much?"

"Like doesn't have much to do with it," Severus replied. Draco eyed him speculatively.

"It will to her."

"Unless I become a better vampire," Severus said and Draco nearly laughed. Nearly, but for the tense set of his former mentor's shoulders. Not to mention the fangs were still out.

"You can't do that to her."

"How do you know?"

"For one, you wouldn't do it last night, when it counted. For two, you never would do it to me."

Severus' shoulders sagged and he leaned his forehead against the fridge before popping open another bottle and raising it to his lips. He took a long drink, then another, before he turned back around, leaning against the appliance. He tilted his chin up.

"You're not my type, it seems," he said and Draco did laugh at that.

"And she is. Great. This is just…brilliant. Can't pick someone normal, can you? Have to go for the war hero who hates us both."

"You're her type," Severus said suddenly. "Get rid of Weasley and half the work is done."

"You want me to lure her in? Dear god." Draco stopped short and stared at Severus, his eyes widening. "Merlin. You're serious. You are getting better at this. When the hell did that happen?"

"At what?" Severus gave him a sidelong glance and finished off his second bottle. Draco shook his head, smiling slightly in appreciation of the vampire standing before him.

"Being a vampire," he explained. Severus tilted his head again.

"Since I remembered what it felt like to live," he said honestly. Then he opened the refrigerator and reached for another bottle.

Hermione woke at dusk as well, disoriented and sick to her stomach. Had she picked up the flu from someplace? And why was it so dark? She didn't have curtains in her flat…oh. Oh, no. So, it was all true, every last bit, and she was in some strange flat in a bad part of town and –

"Stop panicking. You're in my flat and while it's true that no one knows you're here, you're relatively safe from vampires and I have no designs on you otherwise." The tall, blonde figure that inevitably accompanied that smooth tenor drew back a set of curtains to reveal a glittering view of the city. Draco turned towards her as she sat up, rubbing her face. "Better?" he asked and she shook her head.

"No," she managed. "Sick."

Draco's expression changed instantly as he saw her wrap her arms around her middle and he practically dove for her, screeching something about the carpet as he bundled her up in his arms, blankets and all, and made for the en-suite. A minute later, he was bending over her, one hand propped on one knee while the other was occupied with holding back her hair. Hermione Granger, in his flat and puking her guts out. Would wonders never cease.

"Better now?" he hazarded and Hermione managed a small nod as she reached for the toilet roll and tore some off to wipe at her chin. Then she flushed the mess away with as much dignity as she could muster and gingerly, with Draco's continued help, got to her feet.

"Could be the healing process," Draco guessed, still holding her hair up as she rinsed her mouth and wiped her face clean. She sputtered some through the water and caught his eye in the mirror.

"Could be the vampire blood," she retorted softly and Draco glanced away.

"Are you finished?" he asked and she nodded. Dropping her hair, he led her from the bathroom and deposited her back on the bed. "Actually, you probably ought to have a bath," he said thoughtfully as he surveyed her huddled form, taking in the hunch of her shoulders and her greyish pallor. He frowned. "And it's more likely to be the sudden bond than the blood itself. Though I'm well aware it's hardly a popular taste, you ingested it hours ago. If it was going to make you sick you would've been ill this morning at the latest."

"Then wouldn't I have gotten sick from the bond then, too?"

"No," he said. "You were still in his flat this morning. I only removed you a few hours ago."

"So…you mean my illness might be caused by…"

"Being apart from him? It's possible, but again, not likely. No, I'm sure it's just the healing. You probably caught the flu, keeping the hours you have without proper rest or nutrition – or warmth, for that matter."

"My warming spells are the best in my department!"

"Yes, but by their nature warming spells are two thirds illusion, Granger. Or didn't they cover that in your first aid training? What are they teaching in the ministry-run courses these days?" He tsk-tsked her and Hermione frowned for all she was worth.

"Oh, please. I suppose you think your private sector training is heads and shoulders above us government peons."

"Can't argue with you there, Granger."

She sighed and tugged the wrist he'd been holding to check her pulse from his hands. "Take me home, Draco."

"Can't," he replied shortly, reaching for her wrist again. She smacked his hand away.

"Why not?"

"One, you're sick, two, I already started the rumor mill that you've gone to Bath for long weekend, and three, I really just…can't."

"What is that supposed to mean? Are you under bloody orders or something? Take me home this instant – oh. Oh, no." She covered her mouth with one shaking hand and Draco quickly reached for her wrist yet again, holding it captive as he watched his watch closely…though he was watching her face more closely. He narrowed his eyes.

"I'll let you go eventually, Hermione. Don't worry about that. The situation is far from permanent. It's just that it's better if you're here right now, until you feel better."

"This is kidnapping," she said.

"It is," he admitted. "I'm sorry."

"You aren't," she said, wishing she had the energy to sneer.

"I am, actually, but I suppose you won't believe another word I say. Well, as long as you take your potions you should be all better by the morning. You can go then."

"But if he has you under orders –" she began and Draco shook his head.

"These are the orders," he said. "No worries, Granger. He and I both just want you all better and out of our hair. Alright?"

Hermione swallowed hard and nodded and Draco smiled at her in relief, then focused on checking her pulse properly. Hermione watched his face as closely as he'd watched her a moment before and felt strangely as though time stood still for that minute. As the seconds passed by unbearably slow, she could feel his own pulse against her sensitive skin, his blood throbbing through his fingertips strongly, the heat of his hand as he held her wrist surely and gently. She swallowed thickly and her eyes flicked from his face to his hand and back again. Her lips parted, she leaned forward…and he glanced up from his enchanted wristwatch to meet her eyes. She snatched her arm away again as if he'd burned her and scooted away from him. There was a brief silence, where his torso and legs didn't leave her peripheral vision, and she finally looked up at him again. Draco looked right back at her, not speaking, but not expecting any answers as to that awkward silence, either. He finally turned away.

"I'll draw you a bath," he said over his shoulder and Hermione watched him until he disappeared back into the bathroom. The minute he was out of sight, she felt all her energy leave her and she flopped back down on the bed, causing the healing wound to pull uncomfortably. She hissed from the slight pain and gingerly pressed a hand to her side. Well, at least she wasn't dying any longer, or in danger of dying – and as long as Snape and Malfoy were true to their words, any bond she had with the vampire would fade, given enough time. All she had to do was make it through the next several hours and then she'd finally be free to return to her flat. And if Ron had heard the rumors about her taking a short holiday already, well, then she could just explain her sudden arrival away as secret ministry business. Half of her work involving the vampires had already been highly classified, so she knew Ron would believe her. Of course, she'd feel bad about lying to him, but it was in everyone's best interests, really…at least, until she figured out how the best way to deal with the news about Snape.

She conjured his image in her mind and found she was hardpressed to remember him as he had been – her greasy git of a professor – as opposed to his new incarnation. That silky hair, the distinguished profile, the pale skin that almost seemed to glow in the dim rooms of his flat. The wound at her side ached again, cutting across the picture in her mind and she winced and rubbed her hand over it slowly…sensually. Her breath caught in her throat as his image took shape in her mind once more.

Miss Granger… That gravelly voice she remembered so well from all those years of lessons and reprimands and examinations rang in her memories and she closed her eyes at the sound, her hand still caressing her side. Granger, the voice murmured in her ears again.

"Granger? Hermione, are you alright? Not feeling ill again, are you?"

Her eyes snapped open and she turned her head to find Draco watching her, his eyes wide and nervous, his hands balled into fists at his sides. She didn't say a word, just stared right back at him, waiting for him to say something, to censure her somehow, as if he could tell just by looking at her what she was thinking. As if he could read her mind. He seemed to relax some, his hands opening, his eyes softening, and then he approached the bed slowly and knelt beside it. He reached for her hand, the one still pressed to her wounded side, and gently pulled it away and held it.

His hands were warm, she noticed. They were warm and they were bigger than hers, his fingers long and slender. She lifted her eyes to his again, but found herself suddenly unable to express anything, not even the fear she was feeling at what was happening to her.

"It's ok," he murmured, no longer looking at her, instead watching her hand intently as he laced his fingers between hers. "I know what it's like. What he's like. He's strong, stronger than he thinks he is, isn't he? There's no way a bond should be that…intense after only one exchange, but with him…it is." He exhaled slowly and met her eyes again. He looked tired, and as old as they both were. She was surprised.

"He frightens you," she finally managed to say and Draco took a deep breath. In a touching gesture, he pressed her fingers to his lips – it wasn't romantic at all, it was more the motion of a child seeking comfort. Hermione had a great deal of experience with that. She was best friends with Harry Potter, after all.

"It would be strange if he didn't," Draco replied. "But he doesn't…make demands. And I owe him my life."

"Hasn't that debt been cancelled?" Hermione hazarded and Draco shook his head.

"I made a mistake, early on and he saved me by giving me his blood. Not once, but twice. I haven't been able to write him off since. Not that I would've, either way. Besides, don't you think he deserves to be repaid? Knowing everything he went through?"

"But that was for Harry," Hermione began and Draco shook his head, squeezed her hand a little harder than necessary.

"And you think if we told Potter about this he'd assume the debt, the responsibility?"

Hermione frowned and Draco smiled sadly.

"Ok, so maybe he would. But that wouldn't change my situation, would it?" She frowned at him and he sighed. "Granger…Hermione. Listen, it's ok. I mean that. I'm just sorry you've had this thrust upon you. Look, get up, take a bath, forget about it for tonight. Try and relax and get some rest, alright? I'm going to leave you in here, but I'll just be out in the front room, going over some paperwork if you need me."

He started to stand and Hermione tightened her fingers in his without even realizing she'd done it. He looked at her in mild consternation, clearly of the opinion that he'd done his bit to comfort her, so now he could ignore her like he preferred. Flushing, she loosened her grip and started to tug her hand free, but a second later the annoyance had left his face and he was suddenly leaning over, scooping her in his arms and standing up with her.

"Draco!" she gasped, but he ignored the weak protest and walked her into the bathroom. He set her down on the countertop and his hands went to the buttons of her shirt. Only then did it occur to her that she was wearing men's clothing. She flushed a little more deeply and managed to shove his hands away. The annoyance returned.

"I'm not interested in ravishing you, Hermione."

"I never said you were. It's not right regardless of your intentions. I can undo my own damn buttons. And yes, I'm aware they aren't actually my buttons. You know these will all have to be transfigured before I go home tomorrow?"

Draco put his hands to the countertop on either side of her and leaned over to look her in the eyes. She pulled away from him and ended with her back to the mirror, slouched over, but he was still too close for her tastes.

"Draco…what are you doing?" she breathed, her face a bright pink, the shirt bunched up about her hips with all the commotion, the top buttons undone and revealing how far down her flush extended.

She was positively alluring.

"Draco…" she tried again and his eyes moved from her lips to her eyes and back again, all thought of conversation, of reason, now gone.

"I don't know, Hermione. Probably something very foolish," he responded, his voice low. Then he leaned the rest of the way in and kissed her.

AN: Woooohooooo! My muse has been good to me today. ;)