A Winter Tale

A Winter Tale

By: Max


Inspired by the WIKTT Marriage Law Challenge, but not following it exactly

[Disclaimer see chapter 1]


Chapter 21: The Prince of Darkness


“You must be mad! Completely, utterly, entirely, stark raving mad!” Severus Snape rose and began to march through Albus’ study like a tiger in a too small cage. Shaking his head he said: “I’ve hoped over the last weeks you’d have forgotten about this insanity of yours. I should have learned by now, that you never miss a chance to do something utterly crazy.” Turning around on his friend’s desk, he looked down at him. “Albus!” he said urgently. “Think about the risks! Even if you don’t think meeting a vampire isn’t risky – what I doubt to be honest – then think about what would happen to all of your other plans if some one learns about that! Fudge would have a field day – and your chances to win the election would go down quicker than you could say ‘sorry’.”

Albus leaned back, laying his fingertips together and looking down on them. “You’re right, child,” he said calmly. “We shall have to make sure that our visit to Paris remains a secret.”

“We?” Severus actually was very much use to finding Albus trying and he’d thought he wouldn’t become surprised by his eccentric ideas anymore, but this – Severus didn’t know what to say. “Albus,” he tried with forced patience, “May I remind you that I’m actually death and buried? I can’t appear as myself in public and I’m not too keen to present myself as your cousin. With him one never knows when one will meet the next former affair of his …”

“I don’t think Johannes ever had a muggle girl in Paris,” Albus said amused. “So the risk of running into one of his affairs isn’t too big …”

“Moment!” Severus raised his hands in a rather desperate gesture. “I’m obviously just becoming witness to the final breakdown of a wizard who once was known as the brilliant Albus Dumbledore. Or I am going to hear voices. You didn’t tell me just now you want us to go to muggle Paris to meet a few nice vampires? I mean I don’t have much experience with muggle Paris, but I doubt very much the Maxim serves blood soup for dinner …”

“Severus …” Albus sighed. “You know as well as I do that vampires aren’t drinking blood all the time. They need sometimes a bit to keep alive, but mostly they live on normal food just as you and I …”

“Do I know that?” Severus took the bottle of fire whiskey and poured himself a generous glass full. “Albus, what do we really know about them except that they possess powerful magic and don’t like wizards? No vampire ever wrote a ‘how to become a vampire and live happily afterwards’-book, no vampire ever was willing to share his secrets with a wizard! What we know about them isn’t much more than rumours and speculations. And I’ll be damned if I would ever present myself to a vampire without my wand at the ready.” He drank a sip and looked at Albus who now had his legs crossed and was watching the girl with the guitar over the fire place.

“Considering that we want to negotiate, I don’t think a presentation of wands would do any good,” Albus said after a while. “But actually – I don’t think it will be necessary that you come close to a vampire. Your job on this trip is watching my back – and protecting Hermione …”

Severus couldn’t keep still. Jumping to his legs, he began pacing the room again. “Let me sort this out: You want us to go to Paris – us meaning Hermione, you and me – because you think you’ll get a chance to meet the leaders of the vampires there. And while you do so, perhaps get killed or even worse, bitten, I shall stay with Hermione – in muggle Paris have I got you right. Please, forgive me for not being delighted about this, but I do have a few questions.”

Albus smiled. “But of course you have. You always do …”

Severus didn’t take up the bait. Instead he took a photograph of Hermione from the mantelpiece, looked at it and sighed. “I only hope this child of yours won’t become too much like his father. I really don’t think I’m up to bearing with two of these sorts.”

“You won’t have to, Severus,” Albus said. He sounded as casual as if he was talking about the weather.

Severus felt how his already high blood pressure increased even more. He know what Albus planned, he’d spoken with him about it for nights and he’d tried for almost one year to find another way of killing Voldemort until he’d given in to support Albus. But although he knew, that Albus’ plan was the only hope of defeating Voldemort finally – he couldn’t stand to hear Albus talking about his death as if it were an appointment with his dresser. Severus Snape was far from being an optimist – just on the contrary: His life had taught him always to expect the worse. But he couldn’t give up hope entirely – and Merlin’s balls, if someone knew how weak the dark lord already was it was him! And also he knew that Albus despite his age was very strong and had probably never in his life been more powerful than now. If only Albus wouldn’t be so headstrong! If only he wouldn’t think he had to sacrifice himself to save Potter! But it was senseless to talk with him about that. Severus had tried more then once and the last he’d done so it had led to a row even remarkable in the history of their friendship. After a lot of ranting by Severus Albus had got too much and loud, very loud – so loud that even Phineas Nigellus – who actually liked what he called “Dumbledore showing a bit of temper” – had complained about the noise. And Severus had needed three weeks of sulking – yes, he was honest enough to admit to himself that he had sulked – in his dungeons before he was able to talk at least civilized with Albus again. But even today it hurt to think of Albus’ accusation. In his rage he’d said what Severus had always feared to hear: “I become tired of you and your silly grudge, Severus.”

He’d obviously noticed himself how much he’d hurt his friend and potion master because the morning after Severus had found a note on his desk. It had only been one line in Albus’ elegant hand writing: “If I didn’t care for you this much, you couldn’t make me this furious, child.”

Afterwards Severus had felt miserable. He know that Albus cared for him and in a way he even knew that he was closer and more important to him than Harry bloody Potter ever could become. And he wished he could get over the “silly grudge” but he couldn’t. Even in times the boy had only been a reminder of Severus’ history with Potter senior and his friends – and yes, once again it wasn’t only them and the cruel pranks they had played on him, but much more that Severus after the incident in the shrieking sack had felt as if Albus would had let him down – Severus had never managed to fight the rage down which came over him whenever he saw the brat. But now, with knowing that Albus was going to sacrifice his life to spare Potter’s – and would that idiot boy even get what this meant not only to Severus, but to the girl Potter named his friend? – Severus felt his rage rising to new highs.

Once again it was as if Albus could read Severus’ mind. He rose and came over to the fireplace, poured himself a fire whiskey and than laid a hand on Severus’ shoulder. “It’s Voldemort we fight, Severus,” he said quietly. “He’s the reason for this war and our misery.”

Severus cringed and went one step away. His voice was cold as he answered: “Sometimes you seem to forget that I was once one of his supporters. So I caused this misery too …”

Albus sighed and looked in his glass. “You’re wrong, Severus,” he said then. “I don’t forget that you were a death eater once. But in contrast to you I don’t think one can’t redeem himself. You made a mistake, but since then you’ve shown more then once that you’re a brave and honourable man. You’re the man I trust with more than my life – I trust you with Hermione and our child.”

Severus nodded wearily. “And with this we’re back to this subject – aren’t we?”

Albus chuckled and sat himself down on the sofa in front of the fire. “Yes,” he said. “I think we are. You said you’d have a few questions?”

“Yes.” Severus looked to the bottle with the fire whiskey, but decided that he’d got enough already. “How will you manage to go away on the next weekend? I mean it’s the week before the election. People will expect you to show yourself, so you won’t manage to disappear without somebody noticing it.”

Albus got himself another sip of the old Ogden’s. “That’s why I’ll take Hermione with me,” he answered then. “As cynic as it may sound: Fudge’s rambling about no bigger fool than an old fool and I being absolutely over the moon with my young wife help now. I will tell people that I want to spend the last weekend before the election with my wife because I’m afraid I won’t have time to do afterwards – which unfortunately is the truth.”

“Well,” Severus nodded. “I’ve heard worse cover stories. Your devotion to your wife will probably even get you a few voices – witches like loving husbands. But how do I come into the picture? A loving husband certainly wouldn’t take the man who was already talked about as his wife’s lover with him for a weekend in Paris.”

“If this man is his cousin and the husband in question trusts his wife – why shouldn’t he? Besides …,” Albus smiled, “… you wouldn’t tell the ‘Daily Prophet’ that you were with us. You apparate on your own to Paris, we meet there in our muggle hotel and no wizard will be the wiser.”

“And why the muggle hotel?” Severus didn’t like being in the muggle world. He never felt really comfortable there and he was always afraid to get himself too much attention there.

“Because I don’t want too much wizards aro” Al” Albus answered. “Besides: You know the vampires don’t want too much contact with wizards either. So they probably like me in a muggle hotel better.”

“Which leads me directly to the next question,” Severus said. “How do you intend to make contact with them? Will we spend our nights wandering through all the grave yards in Paris, hoping we’ll come along a vault your potential allies just celebrated a party in?”

Albus laughed. “Dear boy, you’ve read too much muggle horror books! I don’t think you could find a vampire in a grave yard. As I said: They were living in the muggle world – and my sources say they did very well in adapting. If my source is right – and I hope very much he is – I’ll find the vampires in much nicer surroundings than grave yards. The only problem I actually see …,” he chuckled, “… is explaining to Hermione – and keeping her away, from accompanying me. You know, how curious she is …”

“I don’t think she’d go this far!” Severus said.

Albus chuckled again. “Dear Severus – we’re talking about Hermione. She’s a Gryffindor …”

“Oh yes.” Severus sighed. “But you still didn’t tell me where you will meet the Prince of Darkness.”

Albus yawned and rose up. “I’m going to bed – tomorrow will be a hard day.”

“Albus!” Severus wasn’t going to let his friend off without an answer. “Where?”

Albus grinned. “Think for yourself, Severus. What would you do if you would need a few humadilydily fluids now and then? And if you didn’t want to kill for it, but rather have something like donations? Voluntary donations?”


*******************************************************


“For heaven’s sake, Severus – stop pacing! You drive me crazy!” Hermione sat on a bench on the riverside of the Seine, looking angrily at Severus who marched – five steps up, five steps down – under the lantern in front of her. “Why can’t you seat down?”

“Because I’m nervous,” Severus snapped. “Besides: It was your glorious idea to wait here. And it’s cold!” Tugging angrily at the black leather jacket he was wearing, he grumbled: “I wonder how muggles survive in such garments without suffering from pneumonia at least twice a year. I’m certainly in for a cold …”

“Pity you don’t know a potion master who can provide you with a pepper up potion,” Hermione commented sarcastically.

On the other side of the river a clock was ringing. Both Hermione and Severus became silent and counted the rings. As the clock was ready, Severus said heavily: “Midnight …”

“Albus is away for almost three hours now …” Hermione chewed on her under lip. “I wonder …” She fell silent.

“What he does?” Severus turned around and if he would have worn robes, they would have billowed around him. “If I were in your shoes, I’d hope he just gets laid by a nice, well-equipped prostitute.”

“Isn’t that a speciality of you Her Hermione shouted back, her eyes glittering dangerously.

Severus swallowed hard. He’d long before come to terms with the fact that he didn’t have a love life, but paid for finding release now and then. But he didn’t like the idea of Albus talking about it with Hermione. Coldly he said: “I didn’t know Albus is indiscrete.”

Hermione pulled her cloak closer around her. In the dim light of the lantern she suddenly looked very young and lost. “You know he is not,” she said, not sounding furious anymore. “He never said a word about your private affairs. I saw you and the Bloody Baron once with a …” She fell silent, swallowed and started anew. “I’m sorry, Severus. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s only …”

“Don’t cry!” Severus warned her, but went to her. Sitting down next to her he laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know the situation isn’t easy for you.”

Hermione had tears in her eyes as she looked up to him. “You know, this situation is totally bizarre. I’m so terrified I actually …” she leaned a bit against him and whispered: “I don’t know what I actually wish, Severus. I want Albus to succeed. But when I think of him meeting a vampire without even having his wand with him! I …” She laughed, but it sounded a bit hysterical. “I’m probably the only wife who ever wished her husband would get laid by a prostitute instead of meeting the man he wants to talk to.”

“Hermione …” A few muggle tourists, laughing and shouting with a heavy American accent came just along the promenade near the river. Severus laid his arm around Hermione’s shoulder and pulled her closer, whispering in her ear: “I don’t think he sleeps with one of the ladies. He probably lets himself get picked by one of them for to get her in private, but I’m sure: As soon as he’s alone with her, he will only try to get information.”

“Oh, Severus …” Although the Americans had passed now, Hermione didn’t let him go. “Even if he had to bed such a lady – I wouldn’t mind much. If only he comes back in one piece!” Now she really cried. Severus felt her tears wetting the fabric of his muggle shirt. “I know I will lose him soon. But not now!”

“I know …” He had never been good in comforting, but now he stroke her back soothingly and though he was probably even more sceptical about Albus’ plan than Hermione was, he heard himself saying: “We should trust him, Hermione. Even without his wand – he’s Albus, isn’t he?” For the umpth time this evening he laid his right hand against his left sleeve where he felt not only his, but Albus’ wand. “If there’s somebody who is able to defend himself without a wand, it’s him. Besides I’ve heard something interesting about vampires once …” He almost laughed as he felt now how she wiped her tears away and looked up at him expectantly. “Trust Hermione Granger-Dumbledore in never letting slip an opportunity to gain knowledge!” he thought amused. But he was glad she didn’t cry anymore and so he didn’t tease, but said: “Do you remember Lockheart, Hermione?”

“Of course I do,” Hermione made a face. “Who could ever forget that loudmouth?”

“In one of his books he maintained he had once had a run in with a vampire who was terrorizing a little muggle village in Romania. He wrote, he got him and the vampire being a child …”

“But you don’t believe that, Severus?” Hermione asked. “Lockheart confessed to Ron and Harry that he lied about all his books.”

“I know.” Now Severus pulled her a bit closer. It was really becoming chilly and the damp from the river was making him shiver. “But you know that Lockheart wasn’t even a very creative liar. Most of his stories had some truth in them. His vampire story reminded me of one I’ve heard once in Bulgaria as I was there as Nicolas Flamel’s apprentice. Nicolas had a friend there – a pretty eccentric potion master who lived in a cave outside a little village, working on a potion to enforce magic – a fruitless idea of course. But this potion master told us that he’d once was asked by the villagers to help them against a vampire who never killed a human, but had killed a few small animals – like chicken and ducks and once a lamb. Our potion master first didn’t believe it was really a vampire – he rather believed it was a bat or something like that. So he prepared a lamb as a kind of trap and in fact – after a few nights he caught something. It wasn’t a bat – and here we come to why I think that’s the story Lockhart’s tale is based on – a child. It was only four years old, but the victim of a vampire and becoming one itself. It was entirely lost.”

Hermione shuddered. “How terrible! Probably your friend did the poor child a service with killing him.”

“He didn’t,” Severus proceeded. “He said he simply couldn’t bring himself to kill a child. So he took the baby vampire with him in his cave and put him behind wards. But he learned soon, that the young vampire didn’t want to bite him – just on the contrary. He hated the idea of killing and only did it to animals when he absolutely needed it.”

“And how often did he need blood?” Hermione asked.

“This was what I found very interesting,” Severus answered. “Our friend told us, his vampire child only needed blood when he was weakened by too much sun light or other exhausting things like working all day with the potion master. And even then he didn’t need much blood – a few drops were mostly enough for giving him his strength back. So our old potion master bought a cow and whenever his vampire child needed blood, he got a few drops from the cow.

Hermione was now all ears. “What became of the vampire?” she asked excited.

“He lived for years with the old potion master,” Severus told. “Then, one night, suddenly an adult vampire appeared in the cave. Our potion master became of course very terrified, but the adult vampire told him he wouldn’t like biting wizards. Our magic would make our blood almost inedible to vampires. He only would want to get the child because it couldn’t live all his life with a wizard and would need to be with his kind. He took the child and disappeared and that was the end of the potion master’s story.”

“Hmm …” Hermione made thoughtfully. “I would like to believe vampires don’t bite wizards, but – I’ve read about vampires the last days and in one rather serious book was that history knows about a few wizards becoming vampires …”

“Yes, I’ve read that too.” Severus nodded. “Yet I found two facts interesting about that. First: In four of the five proven cases the wizards who became vampires were already accused of dabbling around in the dark arts. And you know: Our magic is connected to our blood. It’s having an aura. Did you ever see the aura of Albus’ magic?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes – as he showed me our baby. He said the bright, beautiful blue the sphere showed first would be the colour of his magic.”

Severus fingered once again at the two wands in his sleeve. Looking around he saw they were alone on the riverbank, so he pulled his wand out. Hiding it in his jacket, he directed it at his left palm and murmured an incantation. A tiny ball, hardly bigger than the flame of a match and surrounded by dark smoke, appeared. Severus let it for a moment hover over his palm, and then he whispered “finite incantatum” and looked at Hermione. “That was mine. Shall I show you yours?”

“Yes please.” Hermione gave him her hand, palm open.

Once again Severus looked around. They were still alone, so he directed the wand at her hand and said the incantation. Hermione’s aura appeared – a sphere in clear burgundy red. Severus gave her a minute to look at it, then he waved it away, pushed his wand back and said: “How Gryffindor of you …” He didn’t give her time for an answer, but proceeded: “My magic shows that I was involved with the dark arts. And I wonder if it were in my blood also. Yet Albus’ magic is pure as your is. Perhaps it is pure magic vampires don’t like?”

“You think theirs is dark and therefore doesn’t mix well with pure?” Hermione chewed on her under lip. “I don’t know if I’d find this comforting.”

Severus shook his head. “I don’t think ‘dark’ – at least not in the way we use the term – fits. Their magic simply is others than ours.”

Hermione sighed. “Let’s hope it’s not other in the sense of ‘even more dangerous’ than the dark magic we’re unfortunately familiar with.”

Severus wanted to answer, but suddenly he heard quick steps on the stairs which led down to the promenade. A pretty fat old muggle, wearing a voluminous cloak and a big hat, came down to the riverside. In the dim light Severus couldn’t see his face, but there was something odd about the way he moved. Severus, before really thinking about, had his wand out. Hiding it under his jacket he directed the tip at the old muggle and murmured: “Legilimens!” He knew it was a risk to try – if the man really was a muggle, he wouldn’t know what happened to him, but he’d feel Severus’ presence in his mind. So he probably would have to obliviate him. Yet if the man was a wizard then Severus could only hope he wasn’t a French auror or another official because it would be pretty difficult to explain why he’d try to enter a stranger’s mind.

It was worse. The fat man was an occlumens! Severus’ spell banged again a wall as hard and as thick as a rock and from there it fired back with so much force Severus thought his head would explode. He didn’t manage to get his barriers up quick enough and he fought against a wave of nausea and the presence that just entered his mind – and then, suddenly, he heard a familiar voice in his head: “Severus, you’re such an ass!” The pain was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving a numbness back and Severus heard Albus think: “Sorry – you surprised me. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Massaging his temples, Severus leaned back and said loudly: “Really – having a friend like you spares one having enemies!”

“Severus?” Hermione whispered. She had only noticed him going rigid and was now terrified.

Severus sighed and pointed to the fat man who stood now two steps away under the lamp. “Your sweet husband is a master of disguise and of giving one headaches!”

“Only when overrun with a legilimens!” Albus – who didn’t sound like Albus, but like Fudge on a bad day – came closer. Looking around, he made sure they were alone, waved his hand and murmured a “finite incantatum”. Growing back to his normal shape, he looked down at the bench and smiled wearily at Hermione. “Hello Darling. I hope you’ve had a nice evening.”

Severus turned his eyes. He wouldn’t have wondered if Hermione had hit Albus, but to his amazement she started to cry. Albus took her in his arms and cradling her face to his shoulder, he looked at Severus. “Did you cross her?” he asked.

Severus didn’t have a chance to answer. Hermione suddenly boxed one of her elbows in his and the other in Albus’ ribs. Jumping on her feet, she shouted: “I really don’t know what I’ve done to deserve living with the two of you!”

Just that moment a French police man came down the steps and hearing Hermione, he said with a heavy French accent: “Living with two men always is difficult, Madame!”

Severus couldn’t help himself anymore. The relief about Albus being back – in one piece, obviously uninjured and, as he’d just proven, in full possession of his magic, Hermione now jumping on his lap and kissing him and the police man, marching away, grumbling “British!” as if this would explain every form of eccentric behaviour – Severus started to laugh like mad. Tears rolled down his cheeks, his belly almost hurt from the waves of laughter shaking him. He choked and felt Albus’ hand on his shoulder. He sounded amused too as he said: “It seems at least one of us got a bit of entertainment out of this night.”

Severus collected himself. “Sorry,” he said. “But you must admit the police man was funny. I only would have liked to see his face if he’d come down a minute sooner, seeing you change.”

“He’d probably have found that ‘British’ too,” Hermione said dryly. Tugging at Albus’ sleeve she asked: “Did you meet …?”

“Yes, I did. My source was right, though it wasn’t easy to get to him. The lady who picked me up is obviously use to very strange customers. As I told her that I’m a wizard and I know she’s a vampire, she first simply didn’t believe me, but thought I’d have just told her the sexual fantasy I’d like to act out with her. So I had to undo the disguise – which made her pretty jumpy. She wasn’t the brightest candle in the chandelier and I had to do a lot of calming and explaining until she went down to fetch Madame – the lady in charge. And then I had to do another round of explaining, admittedly a bit shorter because Madame is a clever one.”

Severus became impatient. “Did you succeed with their leader?” he asked.

Albus sighed. “Honestly: I don’t think I – or somebody else – could ever get him as an ally. So in this field I didn’t succeed. Yet I’ve got valuable information: Riddle isn’t to succeed either.” He yawned and stretched his legs. Then he proceeded. “Le Conte Beauregard – that’s the man’s name and I wonder if he’s really a descendant of the noble house of Beauregard – and he is a very well informed and very arrogant man. He knew me …”

“That’s fairly a sign for being well-informed,” Severus sneered. “One can hardly have any contacts with the magical world – at least in Europe – without falling sooner or later – but mostly sooner – over you.”

Albus smiled – not smug, but mildly amused. “But what do you think about the state of information by somebody who sneered – and with the man being dark-haired, black-eyed and having an aristocratic nose he really reminded me of you – then the subject of the premature demise of my potion master came up? He told me I shouldn’t try to fool him. As a vampire he could see through most wizard’s disguises and so he’d know we buried a few old hippogriff bones in your grave at Hogwarts.”

Severus felt his heart speeding up. The idea of somebody seeing through their game would in every case make him nervous. With a vampire it made him jumpy. “What are we to do now?” he asked.

Albus yawned again. “Nothing, my child. One can’t obliviate a vampire and besides I wouldn’t want to have the Conte as an enemy. He’d be worse then Tom Riddle because he’s not blinded by hubris. His arrogance is based on the fact that he and his community are very special and powerful. Nevertheless he doesn’t want more power than he already has. He found a way for him and his people not only to survive, but to live in wealth and comfort and he said himself that he would have to be a fool – which he certainly is not – if he’d risked that in petty power struggles. And that’s the good news for today: Riddle won’t stand a chance with the Conte. He told me that Riddle already tried – more then once – to get in contact. Yet le Conte says as long as Riddle doesn’t bother him and his people he intends to ignore him as much as he will ignore me and the rest of the wizard’s world.”

“Uuh,” Hermione said. “Your talent in persuasion obviously fails with vampire. But …,” she took his hand, “… I’m very glad he wasn’t more hostile.”

Albus took her hand to his lips and kissed it, and then he yawned again. “Severus may name me a silly fool, but I’m not entirely convinced about my arguments failing. I offered Beauregard I’d do the first step for uniting the magical forces after the election in cancelling the ban acts and in appointing a special ambassador for dealings with other magical beings. Though he didn’t say much to that, I think he’ll see the advantage of cooperation sooner or later. As I said: He’s very intelligent and a strong leader.”

“I hope you are right.” Severus was – as always – rather sceptical. “But for the moment the only thing we get is that the vampires won’t go with the dark lord.”

“I think that’s already a lot,” Hermione stated. Looking at Albus she asked: “And this Conte – he really has a brothel?”

Albus laughed. “Yes, little one. Only I wouldn’t name it like that. It’s the most expensive and posh place you can imagine and the ladies and gentlemen there are really exquisite.”

“Gentlemen?” Hermione gaped like a goldfish.

Severus turned his eyes. Sometimes her Gryffindor naivety really got on his nerves. “Hermione, did you ever hear the word ‘homosexual’?” he asked sarcastically.

Hermione fired back at once: “Yes, I remember I heard it. It came into connection with a certain Gilderoy Lockheart making a pass at you. You know, “she sounded very sweet, but poisonous, “I’ve always wondered what he saw in you.”

“Hush, Hermione!” Albus said. “Play nicely!”

Severus who’d heard this command so often he’d put it already on a high rank on his “Albus trademark sayings” list he fought for a moment the urge to show Hermione his tongue. But she sulked already, her under lip shoved forward and so he settled for a “Sulking doesn’t becomes you, Hermione!”

“Severus!” Albus commanded wearily, but amused. Smiling he settled for a little distraction. “Back to le Conte’s establishment and his employees though I don’t think he’d name them so. I didn’t see all of them, I think – the house seems to be frequented by a lot of customers, so probably most inhabitants were busy upstairs – but what I saw really was impressing. I was never in my life interested in men – I always wondered why one would want to lend toys he’s got himself – but there was a young man of so much beauty, he could have made me think about my preferences again. And the ladies – uh! I had to remind myself that I’m a married man on a business trip.”

“You did?” Severus grinned. “And here was your wife wishing you’d get laid rather than meeting with a vampire.”

“But I certainly would not want to get Albus bedded by a female vampire!” Hermione said crisply.

Severus’ grin became even broader. “You’d rather like he’d sleep with a male?”

“Severus, you’re an idiot!” Hermione said dryly. “You know what I meant.”

Albus laughed. “Why didn’t I get this piece of information earlier? The muggle ladies in the Conte’s establishment looked rather nice too …”

“Albus!” Hermione gave him a push with her elbow. “You’re impossible!”

“He’s a Slytherin,” Severus said amused.

“Oh yes – and he hardly lets slip an opportunity to remind me of that.” Hermione sighed and looked again to Albus. “How did you know there were muggle ladies also?”

“Darling, I’m a wizard,” Albus answered with a smile. “And even one who’s trained to recognize magic in other people. The vampire’s magic is very strong – even you who never were trained would feel it at once.” He looked a bit thoughtful. “I actually wonder. I thought it would work the other way round too. So I was a bit irritated by the lady not believing me first – and I, by the fact that I was for almost 15 minutes in the common rooms of the house without some one reacting to my presence. I felt I was monitored and I hoped the Conte would get at me, but he didn’t. I had to drop the disguise.”

“It was a damn good one, Albus,” Severus said. “You fooled me with it – and I know you. But as you came down there, I didn’t feel you. I even wasn’t sure about your magic.”

“But why did you try to read my mind then?” Albus asked. “I hope you didn’t do that to every person who came along while you were here.”

“No, I didn’t,” Severus reassured him. “I only did it with you because there was something very odd about your movement. It didn’t suit a fat, little man …”

Albus yawned again. “Which shows that my disguise wasn’t perfect at all? I was already too drained. Dropping and making it up without a wand is a bit exhausting.”

“By talking about wands …” Severus pulled the white one out of his sleeve and gave it to Albus. As he took it, a few blue sparks flied from the tip. Severus wrinkled his forehead. “You’re really over the top, Albus,” he said. “I think you should go to bed as soon as possible – and sleep for at least eight hours.”

Albus shook his head as if he’d want to get his already sleeping brain cells back at work. “You’re right, Severus. I’m bone-tired. Actually … I’m already skipping.” He looked at the wand in his hand. “Would you be so kind…?” He yawned again.

Severus rose up. “Of course – I’ll take Hermione. You’ll manage for yourself? I could apparate first with Hermione and then come back taking you,” he offered.

“No, no, I’ll manage.” Albus kissed Hermione’s cheek. “Will you be a good girl and not bite Severus while he tries to apparate you unsplinched?”

“If he doesn’t bite me …” Hermione gave the kiss back. “Don’t worry, Albus. I survived the entire evening with him. Go to bed – you need your rest.”

“You’re right.” Albus rose and directed his wand at himself. A few seconds later he was gone with a “plop”.

Hermione looked at Severus. “You won’t bite?” she asked.

“I only bite when I’m asked nicely,” he answered and offered her his hand. “I hope you’ll survive embracing me, but I don’t think we should risk.”

Hermione, laying her arms around him, and interrupted him. “Sometimes, Severus, you’re really an idiot. You should know by now, that I like you – even if you’re sometimes unbearable. Nevertheless: I don’t know how I’d have survived this evening without you.”

Severus couldn’t remember any one – except Albus of course – who had ever told him he’d be liked. And besides: Even if Albus had said it now and then by hugging Severus in the same time – he didn’t feel so warm and soft as Hermione and he didn’t smell like vanilla and wild roses and actually Severus had really and truly only wanted to kiss Hermione’s cheek, but she turned her head in the same moment and his lips met hers and then, for a few seconds, his always over active mind had come to a total still stand. He’d forgotten everything except this soft mouth, so warm and sweet and tempting and kissing him back with a passion which made his blood roar and his member spring to attention and let him wish he could stay with her forever.

To be continued … ;-)