Behind the cut are the two drabbles for this, final round.
Title: That Author
Warnings: Metafiction, mild bad language
Summary: Harry’s fame backfires on the Trio. Again.
Word Count: 400 (100, 200, 100)
She glanced to the side as she rushed into the shockingly cold night air. Neville was sprawled on the ground, apparently having taken a heavy metal door to the face. The suspect was twenty yards ahead, running towards the edge of Harry’s Anti-Apparation Field.
She put on a little more speed, trying to close the distance. She felt something huge pass her, but Harry’s invisible Paralyzing Curse sizzled past the suspect, scorching a tree.
With a loud crack, the cloaked figure disappeared.
Hermione skidded to a stop, then padded back to Neville, muttering, “Not if I kill her first.”
It was worse than they’d feared. The room was full of robes, cloaks, and even capes, lit by a dizzying array of moving and flashing colored lights. A group of seven friends passed them, wearing bed sheets that declared them to be the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
Music blared out of the speakers, adding to the surreal scene:
If there’s somethin’ weirdA rather put-out looking woman left the dance floor; judging by the white powder, thick glasses, and papier-mâché toilet seat, Hermione supposed she was dressed as Moaning Myrtle.
And it don’ look good
Who you gonna call?
Out on the dance floor, someone waved a wand above the crowd. Harry cast a Disarming Spell, but even as he did, they both noticed the trash bag tied around the owner’s shoulders and realized he was a costumed Muggle.
But Hermione had spotted a cloaked figure pushing through the crowd, rushing towards the fire exit. The Muggle might have been confused by the wand leaving his hand, but the suspect understood: there were real wizards here, ready to fight. Hermione darted past a bespectacled girl with a phosphorescent lightning-bolt scar and gave chase, Harry on her heels.
“Ron, cover the front,” Harry ordered. “Neville, the fire exit. Hermione, with me.” Neville disappeared around the side of the building; though technically equal, all four Aurors respected Harry’s judgment.
The remaining three walked past the line of people waiting to enter the nightclub. “How do we get in?” Harry asked as he cast an Anti-Apparition Field.
“Confundus,” Hermione suggested. “Make the bouncers think a robed couple bypassing the line is--oh, no.”
She pointed at a sign at the entrance: “Harry Potter Halloween Party.”
“It’ll be full of robes...” Harry said.
“I’ll kill that bloody author,” Ron muttered.
Title: A Deadly Predator
Warnings: AU, Violence, Vampirism, Major Character Death
Summary: She corners her prey in the darkened alley.
Pairing: Hermione/? You'll see:)
Word Count: 486
Her stiletto heels click softly on the pavement as she corners her prey in the darkened alley. He turns at the sound, his wand ready, and she reveals herself by stepping forward into a narrow patch of light.
“Hello, Draco,” she says softly.
He looks at her with trepidation, maintaining his aim with a steady hand. “Where have you been, Granger?”
Hermione smiles at the question. “Not far.”
“You know that Potter and Weasley have been searching desperately for months?”
“Yes,” she replies casually, looking deep into his eyes. “But they’ll find me when I’m ready to be found.”
“And when will that be?” he asks as he meets her gaze; sealing his fate.
A predatory smile graces Hermione’s lips and with a compulsion similar to the Imperius Curse, Draco lowers his wand. She moves swiftly and knocks him unconscious with a single blow. As he crumples to the ground she answers him softly, “Soon.”
Hermione trails her fingers lightly across his exposed chest, and delights in the fear emulating from her prey. Draco Malfoy is at her mercy; his arms are chained high above his head, his feet secured to the floor of the dark dungeon cell. He grunts angrily at her through his gag, as she licks at the throbbing vein in his neck.
She ignores his muffled protest and sinks her teeth into the vulnerable skin, savoring the flavor of the pure, magical blood that Draco has always prized. He falls into a trance and she drains him nearly dry before opening up the vein at her wrist. The gag disappears with a silent spell and she raises the wound to his lips.
Staring into the dimming light of his silver eyes she commands, “Drink.”
Hermione pours three drops of the potion on his tongue as her victim opens his eyes. Looking at him critically she asks, “How do you feel?”
“Strong,” he answers as he pulls against the chains. “Powerful.”
“Thank you, Draco,” Hermione whispers and a terrifying smile illuminates her face. Before he has time to realize what is happening, she plunges the stake deep into his heart. She laughs as he crumbles to dust, and walks away. The tests are finally over.
Hermione corners them in the same dark alley where she captured Draco. They are alone, as she knew they would be. They are searching for her and now she can finally approach them; her lovers, her soul mates. She hid from them for months because she knew she was still too inexperienced with the procedure. It tore her heart, but Hermione refused to chance it, because she wants to recreate them as her equals, not as mindless drones.
Their wands fly from their hands and as Harry and Ron face their attacker, Hermione steps into the light.
“Hermione?” they ask as they look at her with wonder.
“Hello boys,” she said with a smile. “Miss me?”
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