Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

The tantalizing scent caught his attention as he passed by a bookstore in Salem's Magic Quarter. Pupils dilated, nostrils flared, and throat aching, Garrett turned his head to the opened door in shock. Never had he smelled something so delectable and sweet before. He entered the store. As usual, witches and wizards ignored him as he sauntered throughout the store, trying to find his fresh prey. Typically vampires ignored magical beings, finding their scent to be putrid. That day was a different story. His new victim smelled rich and tasty, so unless a Muggle managed to find their way into Magic Quarter, Garrett's senses had to be off.

His nose led him to the center of the store, where a small witch with brown, bushy hair sat behind a large table. Witches and wizards took turns either getting her autograph or a picture. The witch, however, plastered an obviously forced smile on her face as she signed her signature away, thanking her readers for picking up her book. Taking a book himself, Garrett peered at the cover in curiosity. It was a thin book with The Tales of Beedle the Bard written on the cover in purple lettering. A single stump was painted underneath the lettering with an axe in front of it. A spilled cauldron floated above the stump with three hands peeking out of the top left corner of the book. Garrett scoffed. Could it be anymore magical?

Translated from the Ancient Runes by Hermione Granger was written underneath the stump in the same purple lettering as the title. Commentary by Albus Dumbledore sat underneath the witch's name. Garrett glanced at the witch sitting at the desk before going back to the name.

"Hermione Granger." Her name smoothly rolled off his tongue. "Well, well, well, it seems as if not all witches and wizards are rotten. Can't wait to see how you taste."

Garrett waited until the store's closing to make a move. Sauntering behind her, Garrett kept himself a few paces away from the witch and her publicist as they made their way back to the hotel. It was a classy hotel, possibly a five star, not that Garrett cared. He knew that she would have little money on her person as she was a witch, so robbing her after drinking her dry was out of the question. A few bucks wouldn't have been much for the vampire, and all his stomach wanted was a bite of her flesh.

He hung out in the lobby, lounging on a couch when he overheard her publicist (finding out her name to be Jeanette) telling Hermione to go get a drink. The vampire's mouth twitched into a small smile.

It was too easy.

If she were to get drunk, everything would be easier. She'd be confused out of her mind as he would lead her away, preferably to a back alley, where he would drain her dry.

Stalking her into the bar, Garrett waited a few moments to allow her to drink her apple martini before taking the seat next to her. She didn't make any indication that she paid attention to his intrusion, instead looking off straight ahead with a thoughtful expression on her face. Taking a seat on the stool next to her, Garrett leaned his elbows on the bar top to get closer to her.

"Mind if I buy you a drink?" he asked smoothly, and at first the witch didn't respond. Garrett's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance before the witch finally replied.

"No thank you," she replied, eying her drink.

'Ah, British. What a great strike against her,' he thought.

"A beautiful woman like yourself looks like she needs a drink," he insisted, waving over the bartender. When the bartender stood in front of him, Garrett ordered, "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," the witch began, turning her stool to the left to finally face him. When she did, Garrett got a whiff of her scent, causing his throat to ache. So delicious.

Up close she was fairly beautiful with freckles littering her tanned face. Large, brown eyes stared up at him in shock as they scanned over his own features, eyes lingering on his momentarily. Garrett wondered if the jig was up, that she knew he was a vampire, but she didn't say anything. He knew that she had to be schooled on vampires being a witch an all. He just hoped she was ignorant.

"I'll buy a drink for any beautiful woman I see," he replied with a wink, wishing to soothe her. He extended his hand to her. Perhaps a friendly gesture would calm her nerves. "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. The witch was cold.

He liked it.

"What's a woman like yourself doing all alone in a hotel bar?" he asked, taking the shot of whiskey from the bartender. He was about to bring it to his lips when he realized that she wasn't taking his drink. He frowned.

"I fail to see why that's any of your business."

Garrett's eyebrows rose in shock. So maybe the witch did know what he was. Playing it off, he replied, "Hard to please, aren't you? I like that in a woman."

"That's nice for you," the witch snapped, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "It was nice to meet you, Garrett, but I must be going."

She visibly flinched when his cold hand found hers. Garrett winced, momentarily forgetting about the temperature differences. He did try, however, to be friendly one last time. "Maybe we can get a drink some other time."

"Maybe," the witch said coldly, tugging her warm hand away from his. She stood up from her seat, nodding to the bartender, eventually glaring at Garrett. Garrett, however, gave her a toothy grin before bringing his whiskey to his lips. He downed it, enjoying her hips sway as she walked away.

'She has quite an ass,' he thought as he placed the empty shot glass on the counter. Handing the bartender some bills to cover both drinks, Garrett hopped off his stool and sauntered out of the bar. He managed to catch up to the witch at the elevators, pushing his body into an elevator at the last second. The witch huffed, glaring at him.

Whistling to himself, Garrett saw that she was going to the sixth floor. He devised the perfect cover story. "Same floor. What a coincidence."

"I highly doubt it," the witch muttered, and Garrett couldn't help but smile.

The two remained in an awkward silence, Garrett glancing at her every once in a while as the witch stared straight ahead. She looked pretty, looking all pouty and upset. If he wasn't going to kill her, Garrett thought that maybe a proper date would be in order. He had heard of vampires dating witches and wizards. If she didn't smell so delicious, he would have changed his mind right then and there.

Unfortunately for her, she just smelled too damn good.

The elevator dinged when it got to the floor, and the witch hesitated.

"Nice meeting you again," she said, taking a step forward. When Garrett didn't move, she turned around and tentatively walked to her room. Garrett decided to slowly follow her. He had been calm at first, taking a few strides while glancing at the paintings the hotel hung up on the walls. When she stopped, however, Garrett almost collided into her.

He decided to pounce. Grabbing the back of her shirt, Garrett pushed her up against the wall, wrapping his other hand around her neck. He was shocked that she didn't scream or flail like other victims would. Instead, she remained indifferent about her current situation.

"Foolish witch," he sneered, covering her mouth with his other hand. Perhaps a joke was in order to make her squirm. "Unfortunately for you, I hate the British."

His eyes widened in shock when she brought up her wand arm. How stupid, he thought, forgetting about her magic. He nearly screamed when he felt something push hard against his chest, sending him into the adjacent wall.

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

She disappeared with a soft pop!, leaving him alone in the empty hallway. Garrett couldn't help but smirk.

She'd be fun to hunt.

He picked himself up, deciding what the next course of action would be. He couldn't just barge into her room, thinking that her publicist would be there. Two witches against a vampire? It would be suicide. Actually, going up against any witch or wizard would be considered suicide, but the witch just had to be so fucking delicious, Garrett couldn't help himself. He acted on impulse, yet that literally landed him on his back.

Slamming a hand into the wall, causing a small hole to form, Garrett cursed out loud. He'd simply need to corner her again. The question was where? He thought back to the bookstore, to all the witches and wizards tittering about Hermione, and an idea quickly formed in his mind. Perhaps all he needed to do was follow her around. Her scent was strong, giving him the possibility to track her. While he wasn't a tracker by nature, perhaps something would allow him to follow her.

'Yes,' he thought, 'I can just get her schedule.'

Going back downstairs, Garrett first went back to the bar and bought a few more shots of whiskey. While alcohol didn't do anything to a vampire's sense, the liquid still burned when it went down his throat. Garrett went on and on, buttering up the bartender, telling him how the girl he sat next to spurned his advances. The bartender went along with the show, laughing here and apologizing there. Garrett liked him, but he was hungry.

The bartender would have lived if he didn't go out the back way. Perhaps another worker would have been drained dry that night, going out the back door where Garrett waited. Garrett didn't care, as his throat throbbed for the witch's blood. Frustrated, Garrett kicked at the brick wall before disappearing into the shadows.

He had a plan, and the plan would work no matter what.

Chapter Text

As he stood outside the New York City bookstore, Garrett couldn't help but moan in pleasure when his witch's scent filled his nostrils. Ever since he met her in the bar, all he could think about was sinking his teeth into her flesh. The blood would taste sweeter than it smelled, he thought, and he would savor every droplet that fell from her pretty little neck. He pictured her writhing underneath him, brushing against his hard body, trying her damnedest to get away. He imagined her deafening screams that would cause him to chuckle darkly and tell her that there would be no way to get away. He yearned to have her completely defenseless, her frightened mind pleasuring his sick one.

"Next," his witch's publicist said in a bored tone, pulling Garrett from his thoughts. The vampire shuffled forward, The Tales of Beedle the Bard book in hand, as the witches and wizards in front of him moved up on line. Still outside the bookstore, the vampire took another whiff of his witch's scent. She was nearly shielded from the foul scents from the others, but Garrett could still make out the delectable smell that pushed him over the edge. Rocking on the balls of his feet, the tall vampire peered over the shorter witches in front of him, trying to make out where his witch was.

After a few seconds of maneuvering his lithe body, Garrett finally saw his witch. Dressed in an outfit similar to last night (a dark red sweater that perfectly reminded him of spilled blood), she wore her bushy hair in a high ponytail. To Garrett's pleasure, it showed off her perfectly smooth neck, the store light shining perfectly where he wanted to sink his teeth in. Once more the line moved forward, and Garrett finally felt the anticipation bubbling in his stomach.

His plan was simple. He would follow Hermione's book tour schedule just to receive a whiff of her orgasmic scent. After the initial signing, he would hang behind and follow her back to the hotel she would be staying at. While he didn't know which hotel it would be, Garrett guessed that it would be close by. The only hitch in his plan would be if she did that disappearing act once more, leaving him to track her down with a standard vampire nose and pure luck.

He prayed that he wouldn't resort to that.

It took a few more minutes for Garrett to get into the bookstore as the line was so long. He realized that he wasn't the only non-magical being in line. Two more vampires were in line behind him, both gushing about the old tales their parents once told them. They used to be wizards, he noted. He smelled a few shapeshifters and werewolves in the crowd as well, much to his chagrin. They smelled foul, worse than what a standard witch and wizard smelled like. What was the best way to describe them? They smelled of rotten eggs thrown in with smelly old socks and pure horse shit. Garrett wrinkled his nose when a werewolf happened to pass by him.

"Mutt," he muttered under his breath. The werewolf stopped and whipped around, sending a glare Garrett's way.

"Leech," the werewolf replied loudly, and a few witches and wizards turned around to see what was going on. Garrett cursed his luck when he saw his witch look up as well, fear shining in her eyes when she made eye contact with Garrett.

"Knock it off, boys," the publicist called, "Or else I'll be kicking you out."

"My apologizes," the werewolf said, giving the witch a curt bow. Garrett murmured curses under his breath as he gave the publicist a polite nod.

His witch, however, leaned to the right to whisper something into her publicist's ear. Jeanette's eyes narrowed as she loudly proclaimed, "Not feeling well? I'm sorry, Hermione, but you must stay and finish. We can't just send these people packing!"

The people in line broke out into a heated murmur, and Garrett nearly smacked himself with the thin book. He just had to open his mouth, didn't he? Now the witch was trying her best to get away from him, but fortunately his luck began to change. Jeanette, he recalled her name from the night before, placed a firm hand on his witch's shoulder when she tried to get up. Garrett smirked to himself, glad that his plan didn't seem to backfire.

"Next!" Jeanette called, keeping her hand on his witch's shoulder.

It took a few more minutes of shuffling and dealing with the horrible smells, but soon Garrett was next to get his book signed.

"Make it out to your favorite vampire," his silky voice drawled as he slid the book towards her. His witch snatched the book away from him, and she jerked away when his cold hand brushed against her warm one. Dark brown eyes met ruby red when she finally looked up at him. Garrett, with a smirk on his face, couldn't help but continue, "Better yet, make it out to 'Garrett, my number one fan.' I think that has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

His witch quickly wrote down what he asked and shoved the book back to him. Garrett gave her a toothy grin before he purposely grasped her hand with his own. He held on tight as she tried to pull away. "It was nice meeting you again," he said with a wink. Once he let go, his witch dropped her hand onto the desk, not meeting his eyes. Garrett sneered at Jeanette, who wore a confused expression on her face.

"Who was that?" Jeanette demanded once Garrett was close to the door.

"Nobody," his witch replied quietly, "Just nobody."

Once outside, Garrett sat down on the bench in front of the bookstore and began to read his copy of the book. He had to wait until nightfall to make his move, and he wanted to stay close to his witch while he waited. So far he found the stories to be standard; they were just fairytales with typical morals for young children to learn. He didn't particularly see why the book was such a big deal. Yet, he was a Muggle before he was turned. It wasn't really for his demographic. Perhaps 'Ancient Runes' was hard to translate. He didn't know nor did he care. He just kept sniffing the air for the delectable scent of his witch.

When the scent became stronger, Garrett looked up from his perch to see his witch in front of him. She seemed angry with her hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. Shutting the book, Garrett placed it in his lap before asking, "How can I help you?"

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, arms moving to cross over her chest. The vampire's eyebrows rose in shock. Wasn't she afraid of him? At least, that's what he believed from how she acted in the bookstore. Perhaps she gained some courage during the hour that passed, he thought as he stared at her. He couldn't help but think how pretty she looked standing there in a fiery huff. A few tendrils of curly brown hair fell out of her ponytail and gracefully framed her face. Her lips were deliciously pink as she gnawed on them, waiting for him to respond. He even glanced at her breasts as she heaved in and out, trying to catch her breath.

Truthfully, he didn't know why he cared about her looks. He wanted to feed off of her, not get her in bed.

"I just wanted an autograph from my favorite author," he replied smoothly, waving the book in front of her face. His witch let out a fierce growl before whipping out her wand. Garrett raised his hands in front of his face as an act of self-defense. "Whoa, there's no need for any wand waving around me. I'm not doing anything wrong."

"You wish to kill me," his witch stated, taking a tentative step forward. "I have every right to protect myself from your kind. Now you will leave me alone and never set foot in the same area as me."

Garrett chuckled darkly. "If only it was that easy."

His witch bristled as he stood up, him using his full height to easily tower over her. She was tiny, standing at least ten inches shorter than him. Garrett chuckled once more, bringing a hand up to her face, using the back of his forefinger to stroke her soft flesh. She recoiled at his touch, trying to use all of her strength to push him away. "Leave me alone!"

"Is there a problem?" Jeanette's voice called from the doorway. Garrett groaned as the older witch made her way to her client. "Hermione, do I need to get the Aurors down here? They're just a Floo call away."

"No, I'm fine," his witch replied, pulling away from Garrett. The vampire dropped his hand awkwardly as she took a few steps backward. With a glare, his witch continued quietly, "Stay away from me. I mean it."

Garrett chuckled darkly as he watched her walk away. She would definitely be a challenge, one he hadn't had one in a while. No matter what, he promised to himself, he would make her his, and he would be the one to make her blood fall freely. Picking up his book, Garrett whistled as he strolled down the street to leave the magical village.