Shifted

Twice Bit

Over the next few weeks, nothing happened like Hermione thought it would.

She returned to the cabin the next day to find it empty, door off the hinges and cupboards haphazardly open. It took her five more days to track Malfoy down to a werewolf betting hall. She couldn't approach him there in fear of being captured, or worse. So she watched from a distance, waiting for her chance.

It was fascinating to watch the way Malfoy functioned around— what was widely considered— lesser beings. Not quite as low as the muggleborns, because they were dangerous and often used as weapons to overpower any enemies. So they were tolerated and not given the credit they deserved for all they'd sacrificed and all the lives lost from packs around England.

So they were giving freedom— to an extent— and an unlimited supply of muggleborns to hunt and take out their frustrations on.

Hermione had come into contact with her fair share of mythical creatures in the past. Vampires were strong, but easily fooled. Hags were relentless, but not normally as well trained as her.

Werewolves were the worst. They were mindless near the full moon and ruthless when it came to punishments and torture. Nearly every fight with one had put her out of commission for a few days.

The next week she followed him to the woods located somewhere near the Forest of Dean. Here, he set up a glamorous tent that was better off than any of the cabins he'd inhabited over the past year.

The wards around the area were strong and secure, but nothing she hadn't taken down before. Still, she decided to watch over the area for another day or so. It wasn't common for Malfoy to make camp, and she wanted to figure out why.

On day two around three in the morning, Hermione was crouched in a tree with an excellent vantage point to both Malfoy's setup and the surrounding area. It was colder up here, and she wanted to chop her hair off after her braid slapped her in the forehead one too many times, but she considered it the best spot for surveillance.

Except the wind was so loud. She hadn't factored that in because she'd never assumed it to be an issue. She was young, she had above average hearing, if anyone was to ask her. Plus she wasn't worried about any enemies that could silently scale trees. Malfoy wouldn't attack her without attempting to make a scene first and truly, at this point, she was hyper focused on him and his out of character behavior.

Vampires were the quietest mythical creature out there. She knew this, was aware that they could make nearly no sound when they were honed in on a target.

But she hadn't worried about it because besides that, they weren't the most intimidating of enemies.

They often travelled solo, which made them hard to come by. They were dispersed all around Britain, and whole Hermione spent the majority of her time travelling in the woods— well it wasn't necessarily a common place to meet up with one. They liked seedy bars and basement finds. Places where there was guaranteed to be no sunlight.

So when suddenly Hermione was shoved out of her tree, falling about twelve feet down and landing on her side clumsily, she was shocked. Shocked enough to not feel any pain, even though she had heard something crunch.

And then there was a heavy weight on top of her. She turned her head to see the glowing eyes of a tall, thin man. She wriggled beneath him and threw her fists, but he caught her wrists in one hand and held them above her head, taunting.

She spit at him when his lips spread into a grin and she saw his fangs, long and pointed. His eyes were staring hungrily at her neck.

She tried to slow her breathing, to ease the blood flow and make herself seem less appealing. She fought against the pressure on her wrists to no avail. The vampire had yet to say anything.