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There's A Darker Side to Everyone: The Continuation by kissedbyavampire
Chapter 10 : Close to the Edge
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 18

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I can’t say how much I appreciate your reviews (those who have) and, well *sniff* I just want to say that…I luf u guys!

Okay, tender moment over, now we get to the point. This chapter. It’s long, though I expect you’re happy about this, and it’s gonna be crazy; as in POVs changing after only a few paragraphs, you know, and for those of you who asked for more in the romance and adventure departments, namely the awesome reviewer Babette, buckle up! Oh, and I apologize in advance for the drama with Draco in the first few paragraphs, if you don’t like it. But then, if you don’t like my writing style, I ask you, why are you reading this? ^-~

And a word to you all who like this fanfic, please read “Reading Between the Lines” by Weasley Freckles. If you think I spaz a lot, wait till you see my reviews I left for it! It’s…well, it’s just plain VONDERFUL!

I’ll leave you to it. R&R!

~>Draco’s POV<~

Brooks insisted, after much argument from myself, on making me sit at the kitchen table in the darkened apartment and get properly stitched and bandaged before I went up to see Granger. I was worried about her, though my former, snooty Malfoy self would scoff at the very idea. I couldn’t help but be concerned. After all, she and I were going to be spending the duration of our extended lives together, we should at least try to get along, right?

My fingers drummed impatiently on the wooden tabletop as Brooks took out a sterile white box with a red cross on it, setting it on the table before me. He took out his wand and pointed it at my wound, muttering “Frio”. Instantly, I lost all feeling in my arm, except for the feeling of it being extremely cold, even to the touch. He then took out a brown and a white bottle, a needle and some special thread from the box.

He uncapped the brown bottle first, and I saw the label said “Hydrogen Peroxide” a moment too late. Brooks put a folded white towel under my arm to catch the extra cleaning solution so that it wouldn’t stain the carpet, bleaching little spots white. He tipped it slowly on my wound, running it up and down the length of the deep gash. I nearly screamed with the pain, the white bubbles fizzing and running over from my wound and onto the towel that Brooks had so cleverly prepared. After a moment or two of watching it fizz and bubble, Brooks took me to the kitchen sink to wash off the bubbles. Then he sat me back down and uncapped the white bottle labeled “Alcohol”.
Knowing what was about to happen, I closed my eyes, and grabbed a bunch of my cloak and set my jaw. He slowly tipped the bottle, watching me wearily. Though he was a brave butler, the events of the day that had ensued already, he feared the worse.

“Goddamn it, get it over with already!” I said through gritted teeth.

And he did.

“Goddamn son of a MANDRAKE!”
Brooks winced as he repeated the same process with the rubbing alcohol as the hydrogen peroxide. Then, he picked up the needle and thread again, threading the needle and glancing at me. “I don’t know if the Numbing Charm will work, Master, so grit your teeth.”

And grit my teeth I did. The needle felt like a line of fire going into my skin, the thread making it all the worse. I cursed obscenely and made a fist so hard that my nails dug into my palm, even though they weren’t that long. It took much longer than expected, but it was done, my wound stitched and cleaned, and my arm throbbing.

I stood up quickly and, cradling my arm, made my way towards the staircase that, if my memory was correct, led to the bedrooms. I was met at the foot of the stairs by the man who Brooks had spoken to and Hermione had almost bitten. He seemed to have just materialized out of the shadows, his face gaunt, resembling a starved man, and expressing no feeling but a callous and loathing distrust as he barred my way to the upstairs.

“She’s sleeping,” he said coldly, barely moving his lips, and his voice low and dangerous, expressing in full his mistrust in me. I opened my mouth to protest, but he spoke, cutting me off. “And she should stay that way. She needs rest, and by the looks of you, you need it as well.”

I was taken aback by the sudden change from vehemence to concern and struggled to keep my face in my signature sneer, and I shrugged it nonchalantly off. “But, of course I will be alerted when she awakens, yes?” I said, putting on a commanding air, the one that I donned when I expected to be obeyed without question.

“Of course you will, Master Malfoy,” Brooks’ voice came from behind me. I felt as he put his hand on my shoulder and led me away from the man and up the stairs turning me left down the hall. I knew by the prickling sensation on the back of my neck and the carpet-muffled footsteps behind me, I knew the mystery man was following.

Brooks led me to a door at the end of the hall, which I vaguely remembered from the last time I had been to this, one of the many townhouses my family had around the world. Half of which I had sold already, subsequent to my father’s death when I was made sole benefactor. The vermin who was my father had already taken my mother’s life a year prior to my disposing of him.

I was shoved into the master bath and the door slammed behind me soon after a towel was hastily thrown on the warming rack and a clean pair of pajamas set on the set of drawers next to the toilet. I couldn’t blame Brooks for wanting to get away from me; I wanted to get away from myself. Sighing, I stepped into the warm shower, thinking how only mere hours ago, I was in the same position.

*^*Hermione’s POV*^*

Pain, unimaginable pain. My teeth hurt beyond belief; my head pounding with the blood that filled it again, the rancid, poisoned blood. Spasms wracked my body along with the tremors of fever. I could feel my body fighting to repair itself in that speedy way only a vampire’s could, but the torture was too much for it. Everything was fuzzy for a moment, then, with little blue dots in my vision, I woke up.

All around me it was soft, dark and warm. I didn’t understand for a moment, but then it slowly dawned on me that I was in a bed. My eyelids fought to open and see where I was, and finally succeeded, but when I tried to lift my head, it was too much, so I resigned to looking at the ceiling.

Above me there was intricate paintings and designs of mythical creatures, like a phoenix, basilisk and unicorn. This strange mix of creatures confused me for a moment, but my head was pounding too much for me to think. Exhaustion took me over again, and my head hit the pillow once more, sending me back to the day I was “transformed”.

Your POV (aren’t you THRILLED?)

The bell to the front door jingled ominously and sent Yavin into a fit of trembles and Hermione had to quietly shush him so that he wouldn’t hum too loudly. Slowly, Hermione went towards the counter, eyeing the contents of the glass cases warily as she weaved in and out of them.

“Ah, Mistress Narcissa, I received your call,” said a voice from the back. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin, for she had been just about to ring the bell to attract his attention. Borgin must have been expecting the Mistress of Malfoy manor and would be sorely disappointed with the customer he had.

Out came the balding, pudgy Borgin, his hands dirty from who knows what, and his bald pate shining. He stopped short when he saw the darkly cloaked customer before him, a soft and dangerous sounding hum coming from the depths of the hood. Quickly he regained his composure and went up to the counter.

“How can I help you, good lady?” He had guess her gender hesitantly by the dark brown curls that fell out of the hood and the litheness of the figure beneath the cloak. “I can tell by the look about you that you are someone of class, looking for something special, no?” He said, licking his lips in anticipation of getting more business. After the defeat of Voldemort, no one wanted to buy much from him, what with the Ministry and Aurors at every corner.

“I need information, Erasmus Borgin,” Hermione said in a disgusted tone of voice. “No more, no less.”

Borgin looked taken aback, then leaned on the counter, stroking the stubble of his chin thoughtfully. “Well, now, that’s something that I have in abundance, always in stock, but my memory…”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Hermione threw two Galleons on the table, making him jump and nearly drool at the sight of the gold in front of him.

“You speak my lingo, Madame. Now what do you need to know, eh?” he said, his fingers twitching, desperate to grab the two hunks of shining money out from beneath Hermione’s fingers.

“I need you to tell me the whereabouts of someone you know quite well.”

Borgin glanced up at her. “Who would that be?”

“A man who calls himself Terrance Matthews.”

*^*Hermione’s POV*^*

The color of bloodlust obscured my vision and the tremors increased in intensity, nearly sending me to the floor. I heard someone yelling something I couldn’t make out, then felt as two pairs of strong hands held me down to the mattress as they slowly subsided. I tried to scream, but I didn’t hear anything, and then, I was lost to my subconscious yet again...

~>Draco’s POV<~

Briskly drying my hair with the towel, I disregarded the pajamas and snuck out of the master bath with a towel wrapped around my waist. Going quickly and quietly over to my chest of drawers, I took out a set of clothes that I thought were appropriate; black t-shirt and a black hooded sweatshirt, both with the Slytherin symbol on the chest, and a pair of old and comfortable jeans.

As I went over to the nightstand on the nearer side of my bed, I heard that man calling to Brooks and his rapid footsteps as he came up the stairs and thought nothing of it, but not a minute later, I heard a bloodcurdling scream coming from the room down the hall. I froze, not knowing how to react. Then I heard it again, but this time it was cut short, supposedly by a silencing charm. Then I ran as I had never run before.

I felt as if I was suspended in Time, getting that awful feeling that the closer I got to the end of the hall, the farther it was away from me. But finally, I burst into the bedroom where Brooks and the man named Jessup held Hermione down. She was shaking violently and looked as if she were having a seizure of some sort. I ran over to the side of the bed as soon as my shock wore off and stopped short, receiving odd glances from Brooks and Jessup, who were both breathing quickly from the effort of calming her down. Hesitating, I remembered the way she had reacted the last time I had entered her mind; I tentatively held my hand near her forehead. Even though I was at least an inch above it, her brow burned like fire. Her face scrunched up in pain and she started to break out in a cold sweat. All thoughts of infuriating her aside, I laid my hand on her forehead.

The effect was instantaneous. My body stood rigid, but I wasn’t worried about that. I had been thrown into a tornado-like turmoil of emotions, feelings, and memories and felt as if I was losing the sense of who I was. Amidst all this I heard Hermione’s voice.
Malfoy, is that you?

I didn’t want her to call me Malfoy; it reminded me that I had been related to my father, the swine.

Yes, Granger, it’s me. What’s wrong with you, why are you like this?

I don’t know, exactly. I think…she groaned in what I assumed was the pain that coursed through her body. I think it’s because I bit you, another vampire, and that when I drank the blood from your body I also drank some of the enchantment that keeps your Dark Mark on your arm.

I flinched at the comment on my “brand.” That could be.

She was quiet for a moment, but still her body thrashed with pain, though not as badly, and her breathing was labored, then it came: Wait…what are you doing in my head, Draco? HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU?! GET OUT!

I’m only trying to help! I shouted back at her, letting my temper get the best of me.

Damn your help! Get the hell out of here before I make you!

Hermione Granger, you stuck up twit, you need help, and you can’t stop me from helping you!

I could feel a slight pressure as her exhausted body tried to fight me out of her mind, but she was not strong enough and I could feel as she neared towards the brink of death.

DAMMIT HERMIONE! WILL YOU JUST LISTEN FOR ONCE? I could hear her gasping for breath. No I damn will not, Mister Malfoy. Get out of my damn head before I damn well bite yours off! 
All the profanity was making me even madder, my Malfoy Pureblood instincts kicking in. How dare she speak to me this way, the one who is stooping below my position to help her when she so desperately needs it?


No, YOU listen to ME!
There was no way that I could have stopped her from doing what she did next. I saw, or rather felt, a huge fireball rush towards me from the dark recesses of her mind where all the turmoil was coming from. Hurtling straight for me, I tried to remove my hand from her forehead and hopefully avoid getting hit by it, but at the last second, her hand grabbed my wrist and locked my hand where it was. The last thing I saw before blacking out was the bloodlust colored ball of fire coming towards my chest in a beeline…

At the home of one former Potions Master

A dying smoke-less fire lay in the grate before an overlarge armchair that had wings and in which a man sat.

It had been years since this man had dared last venture out of his home. His already ghostly complexion had gone pallid and pasty, the hair that had once gleamed, though looked greasy now hung stringy from the lack of a good wash. Why bother? Who was there to see him but the broken chips of mirror and the terrified house elf? Wormtail he had long since murdered for his traitorous act of saving Harry from the Killing Curse by pushing him away then, returning to his cowardly self of a rat and running off before anyone had had a chance to get his fleeing rat’s ass.

A small and rather timid looking house-elf crept towards the doorway and quietly cleared its throat. Only its orb-like eyes could be seen in the gloom behind the tightly closed curtains. After its first attempt to attract the attention of its master, it called out softly, “Master, Gen-Genevieve would like to know if her Master would like his glass refilled now?”

Just in time, the small house-elf avoided being brained by the wine goblet that smashed against the wall. “Take that goblet and go to hell, elf.”

“But, but sir,” the elf said timidly, chancing being attacked again. She knew how cruel her Master was when he was drunk; but then again, he wasn’t too kind-hearted when he was sober. “But Master has gotten a letter. Don’t know who its from but it looks important.”

“Leave me, elf. No mail.”

“But…but Master…it came by raven, not owl,” she said, nervously twisting one end of her rag-tag dress-like skirt.

This got his attention, and he turned sharply so that he was facing the terrified she-elf. “By…by raven?” he managed to croak out. He seemed to have sobered up a bit. Genevieve nodded vigorously.

The face of the man cracked into a horrid grin, showing un-brushed teeth that were slowly turning black and his lips, so unaccustomed to this show of elation, began to crack and bleed. Then came the laughter, the horrid laughter that made Genevieve cover her bat-like ears. She felt herself being picked up then twirled around and around by her Master.

“Master, Master!” she cried. “Put me down, me thinks me going to be sick!”

“Oh, no, dear Genevieve, you shall not be sick, but run and fetch me my letter opener; the one with the snake’s head on it.”

After being put brusquely down on the floor, Genevieve shook her head a few times to rid it of the awful buzzing sound that meant she was going to vomit. Then she ran up the stairs to her Master’s bedroom to fetch the letter-opener and quickly ran back down.

“Here you go, sir,” quite breathless from all the excitement.

“Yes, alright, now leave me be. Go scrub the toilets or something, you dung-for-brains.” Obediently, although dejectedly, the little elf trudged off to the back of the house to leave her Master in peace.

The man opened the envelope with relish, and quickly took out the folded parchment from within it, gingerly, lovingly opening it and reading it as if each word was nourishment and filled him to his fullest. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the seal at the top of the letter, but shrugged it off and kept reading. When he finally reached the end, his grin became even wider and he cackled with manic glee and ran up the stairs, letting the letter flutter to the floor. Severus Snape was the happiest he had been since his Master had returned.

Genevieve shuffled back in, quietly, and picked up the fallen parchment her Master had dropped and squinted at the words, for she had taught herself to read, then gasped.

“I must tell Dobby!” she whispered, then ran off in the opposite direction of her Master, the other side of the manor. She too let the letter flutter to the floor like a fire-eaten moth. 



By blood become, by blood undone
Safe by moon, scorned by sun
Power taken and power achieved
Magic removed, magic revived
Pureblood and Mudblood, blood bonds forgotten
Sweet nectar of life is their eternal junction
Once hater and hated, once mocker and mocked
Their destinies are forever locked

Separation is weakness, together they’re strong
Vampire and Vampiress, don’t let them live long



[A/N] I hope that I'm satisfying those of you who love to read HPFF with this story. I'm sorry if it seems like I haven't been updating like I should, but what the heck, at least I'm still working on it, think of it that way.


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