Forever Knight [Harmione]

Chapter 40: Turned

She’s afraid.

Harry felt it amidst the million other sensations he was experiencing. 

Unable to move with the magic buffeting him from all sides; unable to reach out and hold her, he used the last vestiges of his strength to slip into her mind to soothe her.

Don’t be afraid…

Confusion replaced her fear just before an overwhelming burst of song, colors, and lights overtook the magical landscape, moving and approaching. 

He couldn’t see past the magic anymore, but he felt her arms around him, holding him close and tight, her emotions a soupy mix of uncertainty trying to push past the thick veil of protectiveness.

The magical entity perched close, a thread of silver escaping it and touching the punctured skin at his neck. 

It felt liquid against his skin, and from where it touched, soothing warmth, relieving cool, and all things wonderful flowed through him, spreading and washing over to Hermione and swirling through her body.

There was no pain, but the magic was too much, taking hold of him and filling him to bursting.  He couldn’t contain it, and he didn’t know what his body was doing to cope. But he could see, and he watched, mesmerized, as the threads and ribbons of magic yanked something from within Hermione’s body, drawing it away from her until it disappeared from the dreamscape.

He gasped, his muscles stretched to the limit.  Fear for Hermione, yet his unwavering faith in magic, throwing him in a storm of confusion. 

Hermione’s hold on him loosened and the presence of her mind slipped from his grasp.  Before he could panic and call to her, the magic exploded from inside him, knocking him into blissful unconsciousness.

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Yasmin paused, feeling a thrum of alien power pass through her as she sat behind the bars of her cell. It moved outward, like waves rippling away from where the pebble dropped in a pond.  It was strange, without explanation, and perhaps she should have been worried, especially knowing that things like that didn’t just happen.  But other than that uncertainty, she didn’t feel particularly alarmed; in fact, for a moment she felt warm and comfortable, the hunger inside her easing to a sated calm. 

She closed her eyes, forgetting she was in a cell; forgetting that she hadn’t fed in days; forgetting that her “brother” had abandoned his loyalties to her for promises of power from someone else. 

It was a familiar sensation; something she had felt before but couldn’t quite remember when.

Several heartbeats later, the comfort was gone and she was back in her cage, bodies strewn all over the dungeon floor with their throats ripped open.

Her hunger overcame her and she turned her eyes away from the blood. She could smell death, and while esoteric death added delicious flavor to the blood, vampires still wanted their blood to actually come from the living. 

Looking up, she saw that the three Most Ancient Ones stood perplexed beyond the barriers of her cage, arching their eyebrows at one another questioningly before transferring their gazes to her.

Whatever she felt, they’d felt it too, and by the expression on their faces, they seem to be seeking an explanation from her. 

“Well, don’t go looking at me,” she hissed. 

“What in hell just happened?” Dendera asked fiercely, kicking aside one of the many dead bodies at her feet to get closer to the cage.  “What did you do?”