Chapter Two
I do not own HP or BtVS. So I lied...this won't be totally canon. Mainly because I can't remember what all happened, but also because I just don't want to bother trying to make everything fit when this is clearly AR/AU. :/ Sorry folks.
That night, Hermione dreamed. At first, it seemed like any other Slayer dream.
Blood. Pain. Fangs sinking into her throat. But then, the dream changed.
Pain turned to pleasure, the fangs no longer biting with force. Whispers reached her ears, loving phrases and lips brushing the shell of her ear. In the dream, Hermione opened her eyes to see a shock of white-blonde hair. Fingers trailed up her thigh, brushing softly against her damp panties. Whimpering, Hermione pushed against the phantom hand, silently begging for a firmer caress. A deep chuckle sounded beside her ear, warm breath sending shivers down her spine. Finally growing tired of the teasing game, she grabbed at the hand that was tormenting her and forced it closer to her aching core. Two fingers plunged into her, making her gasp and her back arch from the bed. "Yes!" As she neared her climax, Hermione felt the fangs sink into her throat once again. When she plummeted over the edge, she heard her mystery lover whisper gravelly, "Mine!" The words seemed to send another shock through the Potential's body, pushing her over the edge again. Panting, she whispered back, "Yours." A snarl escaped her lover's throat as kisses rained down on her face. The kisses became licks, making Hermione realize that something really was licking her face.
Coming awake, she sat up and dumped Crookshanks into her lap. "Crookshanks! Where did you come from? I left you at home with Mum and Dad."
"I brought him over. I remember how much you liked having him around at Hogwarts." Hermione looked up to see Draco perched on the arm of the couch.
"Draco! H-how did you get in here?"
"You invited me in. Sort of. You were sleep-talking, but I guess it counts," he said with a smirk.
"How did you get Crookshanks out of my house?"
A shy look came over his angelic face. "He was wandering around outside, so I just snatched him up."
Sitting up and pulling her feet towards her, Hermione yanked the blankets higher to cover up her barely-there tank top and bra-less chest.
Draco smirked again. "Oh, quit being a prude, Granger. I've already seen it all. I've been here long enough to see it, and hear what you're dreaming about."
Hermione flushed and inwardly groaned.
"Of course. The first time I ever have a wet dream, and the one guy I happen to like knows it. This is my life." Draco shook his head. "I thought being away from Hogwarts and all the other prudes would do you some good. Looks like you're still the same as ever, Granger."
"Oh, do be quiet, Malfoy. I'm not a prude, just embarrassed."
Scoffing, Draco stood and plopped back down on the couch next to her. "Have you heard any news from Wizarding London?"
Hermione looked down at her hands. "No. Not since Harry and Ron stopped answering my letters. They said I abandoned them by coming here."
Draco scoffed. "Sodding gits. You were the best thing that ever happened to them. They'd be stuck in First Year if not for you."
"Oddly, Malfoy, that makes me feel worse, not better. Thanks ever so," said Hermione as she covered her face with her hands. A weight settled over her shoulders, pulling her into Draco's cold embrace. As if his touch opened the floodgates, sobs wracked Hermione's body as she cried out the pain she had been holding inside for over a month. Draco pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her and dropped his chin to rest on her head. As she cried her heart out, Draco murmured soothingly to her, not really understanding why seeing her cry was affecting him so much. Back at Hogwarts, he had gloried in being the cause of her tears, in upsetting her. Now, he just wanted her to smile and laugh. The difference made him uncomfortable, but not enough to let her go. He was actually enjoying having her in his arms.
Truth be told, he had always had a sort of fascination with the little Muggle-born. He had been preached at by his father since early childhood that "Mudbloods" were a disgrace to the Wizarding community, that they should be put out of their tainted-blood misery at birth, not allowed to go to a prestigious Wizarding school. However, years of being bested by the very same Muggle-born he was sitting with had showed him that maybe his father wasn't right after all. Of course, had he told his father so, he would've been disinherited immediately and potentially killed by Voldemort.
Hermione's sobs slowed and gradually stopped. Soon, the two were simply sitting on the couch. Hermione was relaxed in Draco's arms, sitting on his lap with her head propped on his shoulder. Draco's pale fingers stroked her hair as a calming rumble echoed from his chest. When Hermione looked up at him with wet lashes and tear tracks down her cheeks, he leaned down without a thought and pressed his lips to hers. For long seconds, the witch was still, too shocked to move. When Draco's tongue brushed her bottom lip, she gave a little moan and fell into the kiss with ardor. The blonde vampire eased the Potential Slayer back onto the couch and laid on top of her. Feeling their bodies pressed together, feeling her heat even through all the layers of clothing, Draco had a hard time containing himself. Hermione didn't help matters, undulating against him every few seconds and moaning more than Moaning Myrtle on one of her bad days. The vampire felt his shaft hardening, his fangs throbbing. Looking down, he saw that Hermione's hair had been brushed away from her neck. All he could see was her pulse pounding underneath her skin.
Feeling his face shift to his vampire visage, Draco tore himself away with a snarl. Hermione sat up with a worried look on her face. When Draco looked back at her, she smiled. "I'm not afraid of you, Draco Malfoy. You didn't scare me with a wand and you certainly don't scare me with those fangs."
Draco snarled again. In a flash of supernatural speed, he had Hermione by the throat, fingers gentle but insistent. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "You should be afraid, Little Slayer. I could snap your neck right now."
A sharp point dug into Draco's chest. "And I could dust you. Seems to me we're on even ground."
Draco chuckled darkly. "It seems your newfound Slayer powers brought out your sass. Or your stupidity. Whichever you wish to call it." He released Hermione's neck and stepped back.
The so-called "Little Slayer" stood up and sauntered over to him. "And being a vampire hasn't changed you at all, Malfoy. Still a git, still cocky. Still sexy." The last was whispered as Hermione blushed, but she met his gaze evenly. Once again, Draco was hit with a wave of lust for the girl standing in front of him. Before things could go any further, he took a step back.
"I'm leaving now, Hermione. If you're still as smart as you were at Hogwarts, you'll do a disinvite spell. Never know what kind of nasties could show up, hungering for a taste of fresh Slayer meat." Suddenly, he was standing behind her, his mouth placing a chaste kiss on her neck where he had nearly bitten her earlier. In the next second, he was gone, the front door wide open and a chill running down her spine that had nothing to do with how close the vampire had been to her neck, but everything to do with how much she wanted him.
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For the next few weeks, it seemed like everything was back to normal. For Hermione, there was school, witch lessons with Tara and Willow (she was learning to use magic without a wand), then Slayer training with Buffy. On odd nights, the Potential would tag along on patrols or even go by herself. For Buffy, there was school, work, and nightly rounds of patrolling. Of Spike and the others, there was no sign. Buffy began to think that they had left town. Then, one night, the girls decided to have a night off. They had been working hard for weeks with no breaks, and they felt the deserved one night of at least
trying to be normal.
Hermione practically lived at Buffy's now, to the abject horror of her parents. But, honestly, the Brit couldn't bring herself to care. They had brought her here, now they had to deal with the consequences. Hermione was no longer afraid of her dreams, embraced them even. Her dreams were nearly as powerful as Buffy's, but had more focus to them. Buffy wasn't jealous that Hermione was now the go-to Slayer for prophetic dreams. Her own dreams had changed from death and mayhem to...sex and mayhem. Spike was a recurring factor, which was beginning to seriously bother her. It was one thing to have a relationship with a good vampire, a totally different thing to be having wet dreams about one who wanted to kill her. Little did she know, Hermione was having the same troubles about Draco.
Every night, between the Slayer dreams, Hermione dreamed of Draco much like she had that first night. Even during her waking hours, the scenes played on repeat in her mind. So finally, the two Slayers had become so sexually frustrated and distracted, they were willing to let Sunnydale go to Hell for a night.
Buffy had decided to wear a short black skirt with tiny red hearts, a red sequined halter top that hugged her curves, a leather jacket that added a tough look, and a pair of sturdy-yet-fashionable black boots. Her hair was in a messy bun secured with wooden sticks, with strands left strategically free. Simple makeup completed the look. Hermione had gone a bit crazy, too. Gone was the bushy-haired schoolmarm. In her place was a vixen in a tight two-toned dress, the gold and silver sequins making her shimmer with every step she took. Gold hooker boots with silver accents made her a few inches taller. Her hair was tamed thanks to Tara's magic, falling in soft waves of curls and pulled back from a face unadorned by makeup.
Finally ready to leave, the girls waved goodbye to Tara, Willow, and Dawn. Walking to The Bronze, they dusted a few vamps, saved a woman from being mugged, and even killed a demon. Finally, they made it to the club. Ushered in immediately, they made their way to the bar for drinks. Since both were underage, they settled for soft drinks. After downing their drinks, they separated and went to dance.
Lost in the music, Buffy moved her hips to the beat. Eyes closed, she didn't notice the guys literally stopping in their tracks to watch her lithe body moving. She also didn't see the blonde vampires who entered the club from the back, or how the taller blonde's eyes were automatically drawn to her. She did feel when cold hands gripped her hips, pulling her back against an equally cold body. She felt the hard length of his desire pressing against her backside as she moved her hips to the beat. One hand moved to her thigh while the other moved to her belly to press her body more firmly against his. Spike felt a flood of desire when Buffy pressed back against him. She had to know who was dancing with her, and yet she was acting like she was attracted to him. His fangs started to throb with the desire to taste her. His lips pressed to her neck, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on her pulse point. A moan escaped Buffy's lips.
A chuckle vibrated Spike's chest. "You like a taste of danger, don't you, pet? The thrill of being chased, of being hunted by a
predator." The last was said with a thrust of his hips. Another moan from Buffy. An idea entered Spike's head. A grin on his lips, he grabbed Buffy's hand and tugged her off the dance floor. Leading her to a storage room, Spike shut the door and pushed her up against it, then kissed Buffy with all the lust and desire he could muster. To his utter surprise, she responded just as fiercely. Not one to waste an opportunity, Spike's hand stole beneath the tight top Buffy wore, only to feel another bolt of lust when he found she wasn't wearing a bra. One hand caressed her breasts as the other wound itself into her golden hair, yanking the sticks out as he did so. "Planning something, pet? Only one reason a Slayer would have a wooden stick on her, no matter the size."
Buffy grinned up at him. "I'm always planning, Spike. But it just so happens those weren't for you." Her dainty little hand slipped to the front of his jeans, startling a moan from the bleached vamp. Tapping the distinc bulge, she whispered in his ear, "I think this is for me though." Spike could only nod as her fingers went to his belt buckle. Something was off, though. Buffy didn't seem like the type to go for a quick shag in a dirty little room. A thoughtful look on his face, he morphed into game face and dipped his head to her neck. The slightest touch to her neck brought a bead of blood welling to the surface of her skin. Back to his human visage for fear of hurting her, Spike bent to lick the blood.
"A drug. What the hell?" "Buffy, what have you had to drink tonight?" Spike asked as he pulled her hands from his pants.
"Just a Sprite. But I want something else now. I want what you can give me, Spike." Now Spike knew for sure something was wrong with the Slayer. Mind whirring, he figured the bartender had spiked Buffy's drink, and probably the other chit's, too. Shaking off his duster, he wrapped it around the small Slayer and fixed his pants, then wrapped an arm around her shoulder to lead her back to the heart of the club. If Buffy was this bad, the other one would be worse.
Hermione found a quiet corner upstairs to stand in and watch the others dancing. Goosebumps ran up her spine, making her feel as though someone were watching her. Rubbing her arms, she scanned the club. There were a few vamps, but none were looking at her. She didn't see Buffy, but that didn't worry her. Much.
Another chill made her shiver. Before she could react, a jacket found its way around her shoulders just as she detected the presence of a vamp. Draco seemed to materialize right beside her. "What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone?" he asked silkily.
"Malfoy, if that's how you picked up girls at Hogwarts, I don't have an inkling why you were known as the Slytherin Sex God," Hermione returned just as silkily.
Draco's head turned so quickly Hermione swore she heard it crack. "
Granger? That's you under there? Bollocks, why did you never dress like this at Hogwarts?You surely wouldn't have been known as the Gryffindor Prude."
A flash of hurt sparked in Hermione's eyes. "You really know what to say to a girl to blow her off her feet, Malfoy."
Draco pretended not to see it. "What are you doing out here dressed like a trollop, anyways? Hoping to shed that pesky virginity?"
"Not that it's any of your business, Draco, but I lost that last year."
"Don't tell me, Viktor bloody Krum? Well, at least he played quidditch, though you could have picked a bloke with a better face."
Hermione all but growled at that. "Who I chosse to sleep with is none of your concern. I mistakenly thought that answering your accusation would shut you up. Apparently not."
Draco chuckled. "Oh, Granger. You know I never shut up."
With a sound of pure feminine disgust, Hermione turned away from the blonde vampire to watch the couples on the dancefloor swaying to a slow song. Draco must have seen the longing in her eyes because in the next instant, he was pulling her into his arms. His touch was like a trail of icy fire wherever his fingers moved. His left hand moved down her side to grasp her hip, pulling her in closer, while his right hand tuggedher hand up to wrap around his neck. Her free hand automatically mimicked the other, twining in her pale hair as her head fell to rest on his shoulder. The two swayed for a few minutes before Draco felt Hermione's hand running through his hair. A bolt of desire streaked through him when she looked up at him with her dark lashes and those pouty lips. Leaning down, he was met halfway as Hermione stood on her tiptoes to take part in a kiss that put Viktor and Ron to shame. Many times over.
Draco's hand slipped from Hermione's hip to her shapely backside, pulling her close enough to feel his unmistakable desire for her. "Why, Draco. Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?" she asked huskily.
"I think you know the answer to that, sweet." Draco looked around for a darker spot and ushered the girl to stand next to the railing. His lips attacked her neck, placing hot kisses and licks along the column of sweet skin. His hand cupped her breast, feeling her nipple pebble at his attentions. His free hand trailed down to the hem of her dress. "Merlin, Hermione. If you had worn anything like this at Hogwarts, I would have had you bent over a teacher's desk faster than you can say Snitch. Would you have like that?" he asked as his fingers toyed with the edge of her dress, pulling it up a little, only to drop it back down.
Hermione moaned. "Yes, Draco. I would have liked that very much. Please, stop teasing me."
Draco chuckled darkly. "You want me to touch you, sweet? Where?"
Hermione grabbed his hand and all but shoved it under her dress. Draco groaned when he touched bare skin instead of underwear. "My naughty girl. Were you thinking of me when you decided not to wear any knickers?"
Nodding, Hermione's head fell back onto Draco's shoulder as his fingers explored the treasure she had bared to him. "You're so wet, Granger. Would you let me fuck you here, now, in this club?"
"Draco,
yesss, please," Hermione moaned. Draco felt an frission of unease. Shaking it off, his hand fell to his belt, eager to get it off and get into the warmth he knew awaited him. As his fingers found his zipper, the feeling was back, only stronger. Now, Draco recognized it as a Sire's call. "Bleeding hell. Can't this wait ten minutes?" He muttered to himself as he continued to shed his pants. Just as he pulled Hermione's dress up, a cold hand clamped around his neck like a vise. A chilling voice whispered into his ear, "When I call you, boy, you answer. No matter how lucky you think you're about to get."
Flustered at being caught, literally, with his pants down, Draco growled. "And what would you know about getting lucky?"
"If you had answered my call, I would have told you that the Slayers have been drugged. I was right close to a shag myself when I tasted the drug in her blood," Spike said with disgust at the lost chance.
Draco looked at Hermione, now sweating and panting as she - "Bloody hell. She is drugged. Hermione, stop that." Draco tugged her hand from under her dress, only to be hit with another wave of lust as he smelled her desire. A feral look entered his eyes as he pulled Hermione's hand to his lips. Just as her digits touched his bottom lip, Spike smacked his head. "Right. Sorry. Distracted. What do we do with them?" Draco asked as he grabbed a napkin from the table behind him to clean off Hermione's fingers. No need for that distraction to happen again.
Spike shook his head. "Suppose we better take them home. Better than shagging their bloody brains out only to be staked tomorrow night."
Draco agreed. Grabbing his jacket from where it had falled on the floor, her wrapped it around the younger Slayer's shoulders again. Leading their charges out of the club, both vampires sent looks of death at the bartender, who promptly looked away even as the blood rushed from his face. Spike was fairly certain he wouldn't be bothering either of the Slayers again.
The walk to Buffy's house was a trial of self-restraint for both Draco and Spike. Both girls were literally falling over them, begging to be had, but they could do nothing about it. Finally, Revello drive came into view. "Thank bloody God. I'm at the end of my rope here," Draco sighed as he adjusted Hermione in his hold. The two girls had passed out and had had to be carried for the past three blocks.
Spike sighed along with him. "Who knew it'd harder to resist the Slayer than to shag her? Bloody self-righteous bint. 'Vampires are evil and evil is bad'," he mocked. "What the bloody hell did she do with Peaches, then?"
Draco agreed with the self-righteous part about Hermione, though to his knowledge, she had never dated a vampire, just cocky gits too full of themselves.
Walking right up the door, Draco knocked politely. Timid Tara answered the door, only to be gently pushed out of the way when Draco walked inside. "Evening. Where might a bloke put a drugged Slayer? And no, I did not do the drugging. Also, could you invite my sire in so he can bring the other Slayer in?" Draco spoke with every bit of decorum and politeness he had ever been taught.
Tara, shellshocked at the fact that a
vampirehad just walked into Buffy's house like he owned the place, stuttered, "Umm, s-she can g-go on the c-c-couch. S-spike...c-c-c-ome in. P-please don't k-kill us."
With a look of distaste, Spike strode into the house and aimed his look at Tara. "Why would I try to kill you, love, when I just brought home your precious Slayer before a bartender could rape her and the Bitty Slayer?" With a snort, Spike strode up the stairs, following his nose to Buffy's room. He placed her gently on her bed and pulled the covers up over her prone body after he tugged off her boots. With a quick kiss to her forehead - which he refused to analyse - he strode back downstairs.
Draco laid Hermione on the couch and swiftly unbuckled and removed her boots, then grabbed a blanket to cover her with. Ignoring the wide-eyed gazes of the three other women, and then their gasps, he bent to kiss Hermione gently on the lips. He reached the front door just as Spike did. His sire turned to look the red-headed witch. "Don't bother with a disinvite spell, Red. 'm not gonna hurt any of you, and neither is the boy."
With a nod from Draco to back up Spike's claim, the two turned and left, leaving behind a jacket, a duster, two sleeping beauties, and three very confused girls.
Halfway back to Spike's crypt, Draco spoke up. "I'm sorry about Dru leaving."
Spike grunted. "'s alright. 'm bloody sick of her running around on me, then expecting everything to be right as rain when she gets back."
"I get that. Pansy was the same, only she would go between me and Blaise. Finally told the bint to sod off and stay with him."
Both vampires sighed. Thankfully, before any more reminiscing could be done, they made it to Spike's crypt. The bleached blonde went immediately to his liquor stash, intent on drinking away any residual arousal. Draco, pausing at the top of the stairs that led to his underground room, asked quietly, "D'you think Hermione will try to kill me for trying shag her?"
Spike laughed. "I don't think either of them will remember much of tonight. More's the pity for us. Could have had a right good night. Earned some Brownie points from the witches and the sis, though," he said with a grin. Draco nodded and jumped into his room, only to shuck his clothes and fall into bed, one hand wrapped around his aching cock as he remembered how warm and wet Hermione had been.
Upstairs, Spike tossed the bottle away and jumped down into his own underground bedroom. His clothes seemed to melt off if his body before he stepped into his makeshift shower. Twenty minutes later and he was still left with a throbbing erection. Finally, he stepped out and plopped onto the bed, lost in the memory of Buffy's scent surrounding him and her soft, warm flesh under his fingers. Both males knew there was no going back. They had it bad for the very things that lesser vampires wet themselves in fear of. They were playing with fire. Sooner or later, they would surely get burned. But, as they lay in their separate beds thinking about two different Slayers, neither could bring himself to care...
