Written by - Wickedswanz
One Shot
You can find them here! - http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1131827/wickedswanz
It was just a stupid dare - Once night in a haunted house. Piece of cake, right?
>>>>>>>>>>
The whole situation was ridiculous. Of course there wasn’t a vampire living in the abandoned Braxley House. The whole thing was preposterous. It was well documented that Vampires only lived in Romania, Transylvania and the surrounding parts. And NOT in the English countryside and doubly not in the Braxley house.
So it stood to reason that Hermione was not even slightly afraid to spend the night alone in said house.
It was all Draco’s fault. Hermione hadn’t expected to see him in the small coffee shop near where her Aunt’s lived. The petulant pureblood was the very last person she would ever expect to see. But as it turned out his parents owned a manor just down the road. Just her luck.
A shocked meeting had turned into stilted conversation and finally an argument regarding the deserted house at the edge of town. Draco told her about the stories involving a vampire living in the house and missing teens. Hermione told him that the stories were all nonsense. It was then that Draco made the dare. “Well if there is no vampire, you won’t be worried to spend the night there, will you? Unless you’re a scardy cat?”
“Bloody jerk,” Hermione muttered as she walked up the overgrown drive. “I’ll just show him who’s the scardy cat.”
Not Hermione’s proudest moment.
The house was even more foreboding as she drew closer. It stood three stories high. Once upon a time it would have been painted white but now most of the paint had peeled in the sun and wind leaving the looming mansion a grey-brown color.
Three rickety looking steps led up to a wide front porch. Hermione took them slowly, trying not to put too much weight on them though they creaked and bent under her sneakered feet. At the door she moved to knock then with a wry smile took the knob and pushed the door open. It creaked loudly on rusty hinges and she had to really push to open the door.
The first thing she noticed was the smell. Mold, dust and that old house smell she recognized from her aunt’s house, only stronger. She looked over her shoulder and shivered, the sun had set and dark clouds were moving quickly across the sky. Cool wind blew her long curls around her face and looking up again she saw the flash of lightning.
Wonderful. Spending the night in an old abandoned house, possibly haunted or housing a vampire, during a thunderstorm. Hermione rolled her eyes, pulled her backpack more firmly to her back and stepped inside then closed the door behind her.
Pulling her wand she spoke a lighting charm and looked around. The foyer was mostly empty. There was an old chair in the far corner and a little table with a vase that she imagined might have once held flowers. She walked on through over squeaky floorboards into a side room where there was an old sofa, another with a table and chairs. Everything was covered in dust. Through the dining room was another door and there was an old kitchen. She ran her finger over a dusty bench and opened a cupboard.
“But when she went there the cupboards were bare…” Not surprising really.
A loud creak came from somewhere upstairs. Hermione jumped, her heart in her throat.
She exhaled slowly and let out a breathless laugh. Just an old house with creaky sounds. She was spooking herself. Well the best way to destroy a fantasy was a good old dose of reality. With another deep calming breath, Hermione looked up at the ceiling.
“Here I go - I guess,” she said, her voice hushed.
Looking up the stairs she grimaced at the thought of just how old and unsafe they would be. She planted her hand firmly on the handrail and started up. Slowly, one foot in front of the other, again trying vainly to not put too much weight on her steps as she went. Each step creaked and bent but stayed.
CREAK
Hermione stopped dead mid-step. She tipped her head to the side but no other sound was forthcoming.
She continued upwards.
One step at a time.
The last two steps she took at a run and pressed her back against the landing wall. “Well, that went well.” She peaked over the edge and down again. “Hopefully it will go that well when I want to leave.” If you get to leave.
Shut up!
The first door opened to a bathroom. Toilet, bath with feet and a charming little sink. The next was a bedroom, but was empty; dark curtains shrouded a dirty window. All the other rooms were the same. Two more bathrooms and three more empty bedrooms.
CREAK
Hermione jumped and spun around. The sound came from a room at the end of the hall. She licked her lips and starred at that door. It was larger then the others; the wood decorated with intricate carvings. That must have been the main bedroom.
CREAK
And that was where the sound was coming from.
“Relax, Hermione,” she scolded herself in the same hushed tone. “It’s probably just the wind or maybe an open window.” Yeah you keep telling yourself that.
Suddenly Draco’s sneering voice spoke in her head, “I knew you couldn’t take it, Granger.”
“I can bloody take anything you can dish out, ferret.” She muttered and started towards the room.
Her feet felt like they were made of lead. Each step seemed to take ages and the door felt miles away. But there were no more sounds from the room. That had to be a good thing. Right?
Three more steps and she stopped again. Was that music? The sound was so soft she could barely make it out. The rumbling of thunder drowned out everything but her heartbeat. Then as the rumbling subsided she could hear it again. Soft, melodic and sweet - violin.
Maybe it was coming from one of the neighboring houses? Blowing over on the wind… Maybe.
She kept going - Too late to turn back now. No one could call her a scardy cat… Bloody pride.
She reached the door after what felt like hours. The sound of violin mesmerizing, drawing her closer. Something ticked in the back of her mind. A story she’d heard the end of not so long ago. Someone swore they heard violin music coming from this house sometimes at night. Or was that somewhere else? Merlin her imagination was in overdrive.
Still the violin played on. Rising and dipping it seemed to dance around her; pulling her closer to the door. Her hand seemed to move under its own volition and reached up to the knob but before she could touch it the door swung open.
Hermione gasped at the vision that greeted her. Candles floated and danced high in the room lighting up the main bedroom. She stepped inside. Shadows flowed and shimmered over a huge four-poster bed, a corner table held a large vase with blood red roses. The smell was delightful and the music seemed to fill her senses and somehow her soul.
“Surprised?” Draco said and stepped out of a dark corner, a violin hanging loosely in his left hand.
She laughed. One long breathless burst and fell against the doorframe. “Draco! You great bloody git.”
He grinned widely, white teeth glinting in the candlelight. “In the flesh, Granger.” He swaggered towards her, black slacks and white undone shirt revealing his smooth, defined chest. His hair hung jagged just above his shoulders and his expression was a mask of smug masculinity. “Admit it, love, you’re glad to see me.”
Hermione could only smile back at him. She was very glad it was him as apposed to say a vampire and there was an odd flipping in her stomach as he came closer. He’d always been handsome but she’d never really thought about it before. Now that they were alone together in this candlelit room, he looked damn edible. And he was looking at her as though he felt quite the same.
“Were you the one playing?” she asked mainly to break the silence.
He nodded, moving closer.
Her heart started beating faster and breathing was getting harder. “And you did this for me?”
He nodded again.
She shook her head. “You are just full of surprises aren’t you?”
Draco reached out and took her hand. He brought it to his lips, wrist upwards, and placed a warm, lingering kiss there. Her pulse spiked and she felt him smile against it. “Babe, you have no idea.” He raised his face and grinned to reveal long, wickedly sharp fangs.
“Oh God…” Was all she had time to gasp.
Hermione’s scream was swallowed by the storm.
Years later stories still circulated in dark corners of parties, from boys to their giggling dates, around fireplaces, in whispers and rumors. Some swore they heard the haunting sounds of two violins coming from the old abandoned house on the edge of town.
END
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