Blindness

Chapter 32: Illumination

It was late, the room bathed in darkness, when Hermione awoke to the distinct feeling of being alone.

It had taken her days to get used to the sensation of sleeping with a partner. Weeks to realize that she never again wanted to sleep alone, despite the occasional awkward shuffling of limbs and rearranging of hair, or the ever-present Cloak atop her like a claustrophobic cloud.

That was what had awoken her, the cold air on her face. The Cloak was gone, its smooth silk nowhere near her questing fingertips. A shuffling sound made her sit up with a frown, gaze turning to the door even as she reached for her wand.

One wordless charm brought light flooding into the room, her squinting eyes making out the curious sight of the Cloak spilled onto the floorboards by the closed door.

Hermione rose, shrugging on a dressing gown even as she approached the door, the floor as chilly as the air. Kreacher liked to keep the place cold, even in the heat of summer, a fact which had also taken some time to get used to. Her own parents tended to try to conserve electricity and their wallets with more practical temperature control methods.

"What are you doing down there?" Hermione muttered, and felt instantly foolish. Now Harry had her talking to the thing.

She reached down for the folds of silk, and froze. Had… was that movement?

It had. An unmistakable ripple worked itself through the silk fabric, even as it shifted in such a way that made her think of a dog, impatient to be let outside to do its business.

Hermione jerked her fingers back, folding back up with a glare at the innocent looking Cloak.

"Well." Nothing else for it. She reached out and opened the door, then watched with incredulous eyes as the silk seemed to sigh, and rippled across the floor and away. She followed as quietly behind it as possible, eyes locked on its progress as it flowed around one corner and through the railings of the barrister, dropping down the stairs like silken water.

"Harry…" She grumbled, tightening the belt of her robe. "The things I put up with."

At the bottom of the stairs, she saw the Cloak slip past a rigid Crookshanks, his ginger fur ruffled with aggravation, his yellow eyes not looking at the Cloak at all, but outwards into the room beyond.

Which was when she heard the familiar voice, smooth and elegant, mid- sentence.

"...all agreed, the benefits outweigh the loss of longevity alone. Add to it the highly reduced blood hunger and the ability to tolerate sunlight, and none are openly opposed. Of course there are doubts, but I as Master of my coven have decided to volunteer my own to begin the process as soon as possible, as the other Masters too shall have to decide to approach you."

A vampire, in her house, without her knowledge. Harry couldn't have woken her up to explain they were having a visitor? She folded her arms with a scowl. While she believed vampires had every right to be treated as equals, she also couldn't forget how dangerous they were, nor that they had once already made Harry vulnerable. Where was Vaughn? Surely the guard would know…

"I'd rather have their consent personally before I start. I don't think I can reverse the process easily, if at all. I need to make sure this is what they want."