Blood, Sex, Love, Magic

The room was filled with a warm glow from the fire and candles in scones around the room. Hermione curled herself into the armchair, feeling contentedly well fed. She also felt surprisingly at ease with her professor, who had removed his teaching robes and unfastened the numerous buttons on his jacket, revealing a pristine, white shirt, with a high collar that covered the scarring on his neck. She hadn’t realised that she was staring until he spoke.

‘You may ask, Granger,’ he said quietly, his cool gaze levelled at her.

‘Why didn’t you die? After the bite, I mean?’ She remembered the event vividly and had always wondered why the venom did not affect him as it should have.

Snape subconsciously adjusted the collar before speaking. ‘I am Strigoi. We are immune in ways that humans are not.’ He didn’t elaborate, and Hermione didn’t press further. She knew this was a privilege not many students would get.

Her brow furrowed in thought for a second and her eyes widened. ‘Voldemort didn’t know you were Strigoi, did he? How on earth did you hide that from him?’

Snape smirked. ‘I was a spy, Granger. The Dark Lord knew only what I chose to tell him.’

‘Well, thank goodness, otherwise he would have found a different method of killing you,’ she said with feeling.

‘And made many people happy in the process, no doubt,’ he murmured, staring blankly into the flickering flames.

‘I don’t know why you always do that,’ she retorted. ‘There are people who care about you, but you always think the worst!’

‘Name them,’ he whispered with a glint in his eye as his face turned to hers.

‘Well…’ Hermione stammered. ‘Dumbledore cares about you.’

‘What Dumbledore feels is guilt, Granger. Nothing more or less than that.’ His mouth twitched. ‘Next?’

‘Harry,’ she stated firmly. ‘He has always respected you for what you did for him, for all of us. He knows that you cared for his mother, too.’

‘Memories can be modified, Granger. The memory I gave to Potter was a fabrication. I knew Lily Evans, certainly, and it is true that we were friends before Hogwarts. But I was never in love with her,’ he smiled briefly.

‘But… Harry was sure that you loved her! He still thinks that!’ Hermione exclaimed.

‘And you will not tell him otherwise, Granger. You did read the book, I assume? I am sure you can draw your own conclusions.’ He stretched his legs out in front of him and slouched lazily on the sofa.

‘Strigoi’s bond for life…’ she said quietly, her mind a whirr as she tried to assimilate this new information.

‘If I had bonded with Potter’s mother, I would not be in such a predicament now.’

Hermione clasped her hands together and started to twist the plain silver ring on her finger that her parents had given her one Christmas. If Snape hadn’t really loved Lily Evans, how much more of his life story was false? She was intrigued and perplexed, and more and more questions were being added to her already long list.

‘Didn’t your uncle have children, sir?’

‘He had two sons. They both died in circumstances I was never party to, within months of each other. It devastated Nikolai, and I wonder if it wasn’t that which made him care so much. He was the father I never had, in the end.’ Snape’s voice became rough, and he stood abruptly. He walked to the bookshelf and tipped forward the edge of a dark-bound tome. A shelf slid out below, revealing a cleverly disguised cabinet containing bottles of liquor and glasses. He poured two glasses of a dark amber liquid and took a deep sip of his drink before handing the second glass to Hermione.

‘Honey mead. It will do you no harm,’ he murmured at Hermione’s questioning gaze.

‘What happened to your own father?’ Hermione asked.

‘Nothing that is relevant to this discussion,’ he said sharply. ‘I thought you wanted to know more of Strigoi culture, not pry into my private affairs.’

‘I do… Sorry. I just find it all so interesting,’ Hermione sipped the mead and felt the warmth of the alcohol slip down her throat as she revelled in the sweetness on her tongue. ‘Mmm, that’s delicious.’

‘My own blend,’ he said with a soft sigh.

‘Sir,’ Hermione said, turning the conversation onto what she hoped were less emotive topics. ‘Do you ever take fresh blood, you know, as opposed to your regular supply?’ She sat forward in her chair now, because this was something that fascinated her. She wondered what Snape would look like biting someone’s throat and drinking their blood, and found the idea grimly thrilling for some strange reason.

‘You mean do I feed from a living blood source?’ His eyes glittered at her, and his mouth curved upwards in a slow, sensual smile. ‘On occasion, I do. It has more nutrients, and the chase can be as satisfying as the meal, I find. Female blood is always preferable…’ he drifted off, but Hermione didn’t miss the flick of his eyes to her exposed throat, and she gasped and sat back in the chair. Did he want to bite her?

‘What happens to the women you feed from?’ she asked faintly.

‘Nothing happens. I heal them, Obliviate the memory, replace it with another one and leave them to their business.’

‘So, they don’t turn into vampires?’ Hermione asked.

‘I prefer the term Strigoi, Granger. No human is turned by a Strigoi feeding from them. Turning is complicated and irreversible. The only female I will ever turn will be my wife, and then,’ he paused and grit his teeth lightly, ‘only if she agrees.’

Hermione watched Snape as he removed his jacket and unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt collar. He looked tired, and as she looked at the clock in shock, she saw it was almost midnight.

‘It’s so late! I should go before I get caught leaving the dungeon in the early hours like the last time,’ she said, standing slowly and stretching her limbs.

‘I have resolved that issue, Granger. I had our Floos connected, as you suggested.’

He looked up at her from his sprawled position on the sofa, and Hermione felt a lump in her throat as she looked at his long, firm legs and the sinewy muscles of his chest beneath his shirt. The firelight cast a warm tinge onto his skin, and he looked almost indecent with his long hair around his open collar and the amused glint in his eye. She felt suddenly hot, and turned towards the Floo in order to escape before giving in the sudden urge to kiss him this time.

She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and was about to throw it into the hearth, but paused with her back to him.

‘You could add me to the list of people who care about you, sir.’ She spoke softly, not sure if he had heard her and Flooed away before he had chance to respond.

***

Snape was becoming impatient. It had been almost three days since his late-night conversation with the witch, and there had been no further opportunities for cosy chats due to his teaching schedule. In addition, Dante had still not returned from his delivery of Granger’s letter. He would never admit to being fond of the bedraggled creature, but they had been companions for the past five years, and he was often the only company Severus had during the war.

He finished his last class of the day early, smugly overseeing the exodus of Ravenclaw first years as they scrambled to leave his presence and start their weekend thirty minutes early. As soon as the last student had left, he did a cursory clean of the classroom and departed to his own personal lab to catch Granger before her shift ended. He hoped there might be a chance to see her in a less formal capacity over the weekend and had thought of the perfect rouse.

He walked into the lab swiftly and was gratified when Granger looked up from a stack of books and flashed a warm smile at him. He nodded a greeting, fighting the urge to look pleased to see her.

‘Have you plans for the weekend, Granger?’ he said flatly.

‘Well, I was thinking of going to the Burrow. I haven’t seen Ginny or Harry since their engagement, and I have a gift, but I want to give it in person rather than owl it,’ she said.

‘I need to gather ingredients tomorrow night and could use some assistance, but if you have already made plans, it’s no matter.’ He tried and failed to keep the disappointment from his voice, and, realising he sounded like a petulant child, he turned to go into his quarters.

‘I can help you, sir. I don’t plan on going until Sunday afternoon.’ She smiled at him again, and he gave up the pretence and gave her a small smile in return.

‘Very good. I shall meet you at the main doors at a quarter to midnight. Don’t be late, Granger.’

‘You can call me Hermione, if you want to, sir,’ she called after him.

Snape grinned to himself. So far, so good.

***

All plans for the weekend went out of the window after Hermione received a reply to her letter. Dante had returned, exhausted, in the early hours of Saturday morning, looking more bedraggled and threadbare than ever. Snape was furious, and without pre-amble, he walked through the Floo and into Hermione’s quarters.

She woke with a start at the sound of the rushing flames, grabbed her wand and pulled her bedclothes over her thin vest and shorts pyjama set.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ she shouted.

‘I could ask you the same thing! You almost killed my bird, you silly chit!’ Severus paced back and forth, seemingly unaware of the inappropriateness of his presence in her bedchamber.

‘Oh! Is he back?’ Hermione forgot her state of undress and hopped out of bed to grab the letter that Snape held out to her, but to her chagrin, he held it beyond her reach.

‘Where the bloody blazes did you send him, Granger?’ Severus’s nerve was jumping in his temple, and Hermione realised she hadn’t seen him this angry in a long time.

‘Well, Romania actually. Goodness, is he alright? I thought he would be able to manage the journey with no problem,’ Hermione bit her lip in obvious concern.

‘He is an old bird,’ Snape said with a sigh, his anger dissipating quickly. ‘He is also routinely attacked by the owls. He was too exhausted to escape them, this time.’

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, no… I’m so sorry.’ She placed her hand on his arm, and he looked at her as if she were some weird creature he had just discovered beneath a slimy rock. His lip curled into a sneer.

‘Gryffindor sentimentality. He is not dead, Granger, just shell-shocked and of no use to anyone,’ he said slowly, his eyes drifting down and taking in her nightwear for the first time. Hermione stood her ground, mainly because he still had her letter and to annoy him might mean he would disappear with it still clutched in his slim-fingered fist.

‘Rabbits?’ he said with a smirk.

‘A gift from my mother,’ she said tersely. ‘May I have my letter?’ Hermione held his gaze and tried to ignore the tightening of her nipples and the fact he could most likely see them through the fabric of the vest.

Snape held the letter between them, pretending not to notice as his knuckles brushed the top of her bare shoulder. Hermione shivered and plucked the letter from him quickly, then scuttled back to the safety of her bed.

‘I’ll see you tonight, sir. I really am very sorry about Dante,’ she said quietly, wishing fervently that he would just leave. He nodded once, and did just that, leaving Hermione to let out a long breath.

‘Bugger it,’ she hissed to herself. He made her so flustered, she could hardly think straight. Turning her attention to the letter, she opened it quickly. Her eyes scanned the contents carefully, and two pink spots appeared in her cheeks as her thoughts were confirmed in writing.

‘Oh, gods…’ she whispered.