Rated M for a reason, folks~ all sorts of spooky lemony goodness in here!

I was going to do a short fic for Halloween, but seeing as it is now *checks watch, arches eyebrows* March, I've decided to publish this as a nice spooky vampire fic. That said, this story also ran away from me. Originally, it was a two parter, then three, then four…. Etc. You get the idea. This is most definitely NOT a slowburn, folks. But, also, don't think this is a cute little vampire-y story with a brooding man and a lured, but intelligent woman… well, maybe it is a bit, but I added angst in the description for a reason, I promise!

I'm updating as I edit. The story's already done, I just want it perfect.

Please review, by the way! I love to hear everyone's thoughts!

Enjoy, my lovelies~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

October 27th, 2009

It was an odd sensation, being in the presence of a vampire. But, Hermione supposed, she'd best get used to it. She'd recently been hired as Deputy Departmental Head for the new Department of Vampiric and Wizarding Relations. She was one of the few founders who'd advocated for the department when the number of registered vampires skyrocketed after the Second War, and the Ministry had finally found that they had no alternative other than to admit that yes: vampires continued to exist even when they ignored them. The issue had made Hermione particularly infuriated when she began seeing names that she recognized in the many files of registered and unregistered vampires. Some of her classmates, even, who had been bitten in the midst of the Battle of Hogwarts, were facing brutal inquiries by the Wizangamot as to their more than suspicious activities. Hermione was appalled by it all, and immediately banded with a few Ministry officials who were for the cause to create a new Department that solely focussed on vampiric welfare within the magical community. It was a good job, where she worked with mostly good people and felt satisfied with herself and her work after every day.

She didn't realize exactly how horribly twisted her job would become until she read through her new stack of registration papers, for the morning of the 29th. It was her primary job to look over all incoming registration papers and to validate all registration requests. There were always at least two registration packets on her desk each morning, and this particular morning, there was a third. She looked over the first two, eyeing them carefully and jotting down names to send inquiry owls to. It was when she reached the third packet, however, that her face became the same blanched color as her clients.

Snape, Severus Tobias.

He was alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

September 2nd, 1996

"I'm afraid that the young lady has a fair point, Severus," Dumbledore's eyes gleamed at the dour Potions Master/new Professor of Defense, who was in the midst of looking a combination of disgusted and horrified and extremely apprehensive. "She has made her case quite clear."

Professor Snape glanced briefly at Hermione before turning back to the Headmaster, "You forget my place here, Headmaster," he drawled evenly, so evenly that is was disarming, "I don't believe I was your first choice for Potter, and I believe I am not your first choice now."

Dumbledore nodded gently and responded, "Indeed. And yet you are still the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I believe, given my current state and your current position, you should be the first choice. Thus, why you have been summoned."

Snape looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel in his eye, it was twitching so violently. "Is it not enough that I took on Potter? That I'm a slave to the Order? Must I now be put upon by another one of Potter's… group without so much as a week to acquaint myself with the school year?" he spat the word "group" out as if it were a word to be bleeped out on Muggle television.

Before Dumbledore could respond, Hermione interjected, "I understand why you are so hesitant to tutor me, sir, but I assure you I am a much better study and much more responsive than Harry ever was or will be," she stated, looking into the depth of his mirth-filled black eyes. Such depth meant room for much hatred, and she did not forget it as she continued, "And I'm sure that you can also understand how useful it will be to at least have one person between the three of us to be Occlumens, given the sensitivity of our place in this war and, additionally, what I understand about the Order and those in it." He met her gaze, looking down upon her from his height of a quarter- meter above her. He knew she spoke the truth. Harry had been held back from many of the Order's secrets for his own sake, and Ron as well, given that he was as thick as a bowl of porridge. They both were, for that matter. While they were important people who held important secrets in their minds, Hermione held more. She knew more about Dumbledore and good deal of the depth of Snape's devotion to the Order. She knew what plans Dumbledore had for the Order, even though he was quite quiet about how he would play a role in those very plans. She had secrets that couldn't get to the Death Eaters were she captured, and the three people in the Headmaster's office that night knew it quite well.

Snape looked like he wanted to protest, but couldn't come up with a logical argument to save his skin. She knew he disliked being in her presence, which she also understood was tainted by a mixture of Harry and her being an insufferable know-it-all. She didn't want to put him out, knowing what he was suffering at Voldemort's hands when the Order wasn't looking, but she didn't see another option- especially if Dumbledore was cursed, as the sight of his hand told her.

Snape didn't look at her, instead focussing his killing stare at the Headmaster, as he responded, "What time will work best for your schedule, Miss Granger?"

She fought to hide her smirk, but if her Professor would have been looking at her, he would've seen a gleam in her eye similar to that that the Headmaster was currently giving him, one seasoned with more obvious glee, "I'm free evenings after dinner, and weekends after four, sir."

His eyes leveled their glare at her with a twitch of his head towards her, and he stated with a tone of finality seeping between his teeth, "I will take it into consideration and will be in touch. Goodnight, Miss Granger. Headmaster."

"Goodnight, Professor," she said after him, her voice reduced after his cutting words.

"Goodnight, Severus," Dumbledore called cheerily, seemingly untouched by his leering presence.

Professor Snape swept past her, his cloak sweeping along the floor in a billowing and powerful flare. In the slight gust of air caused by his billowing, she caught the scent of sandalwood and the residual steam of potion-making. It was an odd combination, but one that filled her up and stayed in her nostrils- one of those scents that at the mere memory of it, you could recall it and the feeling it gave you, like remembering cookies from your grandmother's house or your Kindergarten classroom.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore called her back to the present, "I trust you understand that this will be a lesson in several ways for you."

Her eyebrows began to unify as they knit together, "Sir?"

"Severus is quite a character to deal with, if I may be so bold to say it," Dumbledore smiled kindly, "I understand that he has not been the kindest of teachers to you nor your two closest companions, however, you can learn much from him, " he peered at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles for emphasis, "And, perhaps, much about him in the meantime."

Hermione was thoroughly confused now, "Are you intending for me to attempt to befriend Professor Snape?" she accused, "I'm afraid if that is the case, sir, that you will find him much less reactive than I'm sure you're imagining."

"I'm aware of exactly how reactive he is, Miss Granger," Dumbledore smiled lightly at her, "I am not telling you to befriend him, exactly. Instead...hm. How to word it precisely," he took a second to his thoughts, then recited, "I am merely suggesting that there are things about him which you do not know...which the wizarding world does not know," he looked at her pointedly, "Should anything happen to either him or myself before the proper time, I would be fearful that the world would not know the truth concerning… well, your Professor." his eyes twinkled lightly, dulled by the darkness he was implying, "I would like it, in fact I would prefer it, if someone had some inkling of the truth. It would give me some peace after everything that has happened, and that will happen."

Hermione seemed to understand, and gave a heavy nod, "I… I will do my best, sir." She wasn't exactly sure what she was agreeing to, but if Dumbledore said it would help in the end, then she would do it.

He gave her a genuine smile, one that showed relief as much as it did happiness at her agreement, "I give you my sincerest thanks, Miss Granger. Now, I do believe it is past curfew. You'd best be off to bed, to better prepare yourself for your new classes."

Hermione rose from her seat and gave him a small smile, "Thank you, sir. Goodnight."

"Sleep well, Miss Granger."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 16th, 1997

Hermione reeled backwards and into the counter behind her, her mind racing as fast as her heart. He'd slipped past her defences, goddamnit, again. She was repulsed at herself. She was supposed to know how to do this by now…

"That was at least better than your last attempt, Miss Granger, however…" he stooped towards her, facing her directly with his wand still in his hand. He looked as sweaty and pale as she felt, "Your defenses remain weak. Your defense regarding pushing me out of your mind was what was better, not your initial block. That is key. If the Dark Lord were to even begin to breach your initial defense, I cannot say that your final push away would save you."

Hermione was pissed. More than pissed, even… she was livid. She was livid at herself for not having perfected something that she'd spent the last four months attempting to figure out this unconventional magic, and she was nowhere close to being good enough at it for her to trust herself in front of even a weak Occlumens, let alone Voldemort. And this...well, this setting wasn't helping her either. Her professor was distracting her, though not consciously. She started to crush on him about a month ago, lulled into a trance of sorts by his luscious voice and graceful mannerisms. Listening to him speak was already entrancing (bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses indeed), and being alone with him for so often, with personal instruction and often within each others personal space given the smallness of his personal office… it certainly hadn't helped ease her newfound infatuation.

He seemed to note the anger apparent in her eyes, "If I can see your emotions show through your face, Miss Granger, the Dark Lord will not only see them, but their origins," he snapped, leveling his wand to her face, causing her to flinch in a Pavlovian reaction, "Control your emotions. Discipline not only your mind, but your physical body. Complete control at all times. What is it Auror Moody always says? Ah yes, constant vigilance," he stared directly into her eyes with an unfathomable depth in his own. "Again." he announced.

Hermione barely had any time to help herself before he drove his consciousness directly into her own again, as he would another several times for the night. On one of the last times, Hermione had managed to push him away in a under two minutes, but according to Snape, that was two minutes too long.

"Almost, Miss Granger. But you are still too slow."

"It doesn't help that you don't give me more than thirty seconds to compose myself." she growled.

"The Dark Lord isn't composing himself, is he, Miss Granger?" he snapped back viciously, "There is no time to rest for you. If you had started this two years ago, then yes. Last year even, perhaps. But now, that time has most definitely passed."

"I don't care if it is passed or not!" her anger was now beyond her, there was no stopping her panic, "I need to rest if I am ever going to adequately progress! I am not you! I do not have endless control and natural talent, I need to LEARN IT." she threw her hands to her head and balled her fists in her hair. There was sweat dripping down the side of her face and her hair was damp. Her hands shook, but out of either exhaustion or ferocity she was not sure. She took a deep breath and relaxed her very tense shoulders, composing herself.

"I would learn," she continued, her voice now much softer than before, "if you would work with me rather than demand my immediate understanding." She looked up to him; he was watching her very carefully, eyes in slits and his wand at his side. "If you could do that, then perhaps you would see the results you aim for."

Snape regarded her for a moment, taking his time in crafting a response. His face was a mask of indignance and looming shadow, otherwise devoid of any emotion. It was clear that he practiced what he was preaching to her in their times together. She knew she could learn from him, just as she had in her years upon years of Potions classes, and now, this year, Defence. She knew it was possible, but she also knew there was a reason that Legilimency wasn't commonly taught in school. It was not only personally invading, but it was excessively difficult.

Snape finally opened his mouth, just for a moment, before quirking his eyebrows and responding, "Have I truly found the weak link in the untouchable student?" he pondered, his voice a vicious, whispering baritone. The tones resonated in her chest, while her mind enflamed at his words, "Have you truly… hit your breaking point… Miss Granger?"

She glared down at the cold, stony floor. Despite being in a new classroom this year, Snape's office was still in the dungeon, where he presumably lived as well. She clenched her jaw tightly as she ground out, "Not in the slightest, sir."

Snape rushed at her then, causing her to jerk up at the sudden movement in the midst of their mutual stillness. As he charged forward he spat, "Then find your motivation and continue if you are not going to faint from exhaustion," he stopped directly in front of her, looming over her with a glare that fit her own. Their eyes met, though Hermione was too far gone to forget she was meeting the gaze of someone who could force his way into her mind upon a whim, "You clearly have the motivation to not only continue, but to succeed. This very night, even. Yet you do not acknowledge your own strength to do so," his voice was a deadly hush, "I see your anger, your vile, destructive indignance towards being invaded mentally by another" he carefully, slowly yet powerfully, approached her as he spoke, forcing her to back up against the counter again. Her fiery gaze never wavered from his, but she felt the hushed sense of concern, and even attraction, towards the man that was currently bearing down on her. Once she was firmly against the countertop, he stopped moving towards her in strides and instead leaned towards her, causing her to lean backwards, as he settled a calloused, tense hand on the edge of the counter at her side.

"Miss Granger," he drawled, his voice now a mere luscious whisper in front of her face. She could feel her heart pounding for multiple reasons, her fear and, dare she say, desire warring for domination in her chest. He continued, "You have no sense of the miniscule amount of power that the Dark Lord possesses. The mere glance he can aim at your gaze can tell him a lifetime's worth of knowledge. He is cunning, crafty, and powerful. His weakness is pride. Once you have found a defence against his initial prodding against your mind, you must find another defence that makes him believe that he was successful in his original task. Furthermore," he leaned closer to her, and she only a fraction backwards. The smell of sandalwood and potions filled her mind, but now also something else… mint toothpaste… parchment…

Freshly mown grass…

Her eyes widened minutely at the realization of what she was smelling. How could he possibly smell of freshly mown grass? Her mind raced for a reason as he continued his velveteen monologue.

"...You must act as though the Dark Lord has pushed you towards and past your limit in order to solidify your position in his opinion…"

Severus Snape was not the grounds-keeper at Hogwarts, he was the Potion Master…

"Then you must provide an accurate and consistent act of your overwhelm in front of not only him, but whatever followers are at his side in the moment…"

Potions Masters didn't smell like mown grass. It was such a specific smell too, and she didn't know of any potion that smelled of grass…

Except for one…

"And then you can only pray to Merlin and any power that may be that you escape with your life. That is… after the Death Eaters have finished playing with you."

Hermione's gaze sharpened and glittered in a way that caused him to pause in his dialogue.

"Are you wearing Amortentia?"

Snape froze in place, not a movement upon his entire person save for the most minute of ticks in his left eye that wouldn't have been visible to her if he hadn't been this close.

She got him.

"Were you trying to weaken my defences on purpose, sir?"

He raised his head stiffly and moved away by a fraction. "I see you've noticed. At long last."

"It was subtle enough, you know." she would've grinned if she hadn't been so fuming mad, "Faint enough from a distance to distract me, but up close, well… no other potion I can think of smells like that."

An odd glint held in his dark gaze, "Is that so?" he replied smoothly.

Hermione was about to say something else when he suddenly snapped his wand towards her face and funneled himself into her mind. No time for reaction whatsoever.

She hurriedly applied her defenses as she rushed to push him out. She was surprised at her efficiency, she almost nearly grabbed him with her mind and shoved him out forcibly, and suddenly his presence retracted. She was confused for a moment; his presence had almost seemed to run away from her initial push.

That is, she was confused until she became aware of her current situation.

With her face against his. Their lips pressed firmly together. Him staring at her in complete shock from just at the tip of her nose.

She gasped and yanked herself away from him. Her hand went straight up to her mouth, where she could still feel the lingering ghost of his lips pressed there. He staggered back a step, staring at her as if she'd grown a third head.

She waited for his reprimand against her, waited for the scathing remark and to be thrown out of his office directly afterward. She watched him, her eyes wide in both shock and fear at her actions, afraid of his own reaction.

Snape didn't snap at her. He merely stood and stared. They both did. She could tell from the way the corner of his mouth twitch and by the rising pale pink in his cheeks that he, too, could feel the ghost of her mouth on his.

"Um," she choked on the overused phrase, her mind racing away from the situation now, "I...erm… didn't mean for that to happen. My apologies."

Her face was burning almost painfully, she was sure she was shifting colors like a chameleon by now. Snape merely cleared his throat and pulled himself up to full height, his face newly replaced by his mask of indifference, but she couldn't be fooled; his pale cheeks were still speckled with color.

"That… particular… outcome," he ground out from behind gritted teeth, "Has never presented itself to me before," he met her gaze again, this time it wavered, almost as if he wanted to run away but was trying to hide it. His voice, however, did not betray him, "See that it never happens again," he spat.

"Yes, sir." Hermione wasted no time. She quickly agreed, then made her way to the door to the hallway outside, grabbing her bag on the way out. She chanced half a glance behind her, though, as she opened the door. Snape was staring at the floor, his eyes a fraction wider than usual. He looked startled, the color in his cheeks fading back to a paleness that seemed more severe now than before.

She felt his eyes on her as she shut the door on her way out, but kept her gaze glued to the cold, stone floor.

She had kissed Professor Snape. The notion of the act ricocheted around her skull as she drifted towards Gryffindor tower. She was going to act like it never happened, that was for damn sure. Not a soul would hear about it from her, nor was she going to act perturbed in front of Snape. No, she needed to be professional. She needed to learn Legilimency to give her the upper hand if she were captured, or if the Trio were captured together. It was vital. She couldn't let her emotions run away from her again.

Still, the ghost of his lips was still settled comfortably upon hers. It was as if she could move her lips in time with it, and experience a deeper, more real kiss with the spectre.

She shook her head, jumping from staircase to moving staircase like a graceful doe, light on her feet in her whimsy. No, she could dream...as long as she controlled herself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 29th, 1997

Professor Snape had looked more and more gaunt over the last few days, it seemed. He did not address it directly, nor did she expect anyone to truly noticed considering his pallid complexion on the best of days, but Hermione had been seing him three nights a week since October; she was beginning to become very used to him. His cutting remarks didn't hit her quite as hard, his sneers seemed less out of malice and more out of annoyance. There were even a few times where she had been nearly friendly towards him, and vice versa. It didn't help that every minute transaction between them that wasn't based solely in Occlumency seemed to bounce along the walls in her skull, wreaking havoc like a small, gleeful child in a ball pit. She couldn't get him out of her head. Thankfully, she was getting better and better at Occlumency, scholar that she was, and now no longer had to worry about him getting access to her memories, even when he caught her off guard. Her defences were strong and constant. He'd even tested her a few times in Defence and on the grounds when they would pass each other, with a discreet wave of his wand and the very quick-reaction she would respond with. He would merely look at her, sometimes up and down in assessment, and nod briefly before continuing on his way.

She was passing his tests. And her rapidly evolving schoolgirl crush, still deemed as such due to the simple fact that she refused to call it anything else, was blooming ever-bigger for it.

And yet the Professor was no longer himself. She didn't think him sick or anything, on the contrary he seemed to be gaining in power and reflex the more the schoolyear progressed, but she noticed the darkened hollows under his eyes, the ever-growing Occlumency lines in his forehead and frown lines around his mouth. His skin seemed to get paler, especially if the name of Voldemort was brought up, but he even reacted similarly when she brought up Dumbledore's name. Common occurance that it was, it had become quite easy for her to deduct that Professor Snape was not just worried about something, but increasingly alarmed and stressed.

Tonight was the worst night she'd witnessed, easily. She approached his office in the dungeons, per usual, and merely opened the door. He had asked her some time ago to cease her incessant knocking and just enter, prepared for the lesson- and that she did. She walked in, but stopped fairly quickly in her tracks. The door swung quietly shut by itself, and all she could do was stare. Normally, if Snape's back was turned to her, he would always make sure she knew that her presence was known, whether by a groan of frustration, a biting anecdote, or even just a mere wave of his hand. He tended to pace about his office, she found, and he often stared at his worktables behind his desk, away from the door, as if pondering what to do next with them. But today, he was turned from the door, his head stooped, and face held by his hands. She could hear muffled, choppy breathing, as if he was struggling to control it. He leaned against the inside of his desk, towards the worktables as always, but was clearly leaning on it for genuine support. He looked...not weak, but deeply disturbed. It rattled her.

Hermione didn't know what to do. She recognized an anxiety attack when she saw it, but she certainly wasn't sure what her punishment from him would be if she tried to aid him. It wasn't the loss of house points that she was concerned about, but rather the personal injury she could possibly acquire.

And yet, in the end, she still rushed to him, blast her bleeding heart. She'd seen him stressed for what felt like ages now, progressively worse. She gently set her bag down beside one of the worktables, the one with the seat she usually used, making sure to cause enough noise that if he hadn't heard her yet, he knew of her presence now. Sure enough, the nearly vibrating form of Professor Snape seemed to still, but that also meant he seemed to stop breathing.

Slowly, gingerly, she approached his desk. She didnt't go right up to his side, like she could've, because she knew he'd pounce on her like a snake chasing it's prey if she were unwelcome. Instead, She moved to the narrow side of the desk, keeping the object angled between them as she softly inquired, "Professor?"

He took a large inhale, but otherwise said nothing.

She was truly worried now. What had happened to effect so untouchable a man so incredibly profoundly? "Professor, what's wrong?"

He exhaled his originally held breath, and slowly rubbed his hands over his face, "I don't think… tonight is a good night for lessons."

Her eyebrows knit together, "May I ask why, sir?"

He made half a groan, seemingly half-heartedly, then gave a velvet whisper, "Always with the questions, Granger."

She shifted on her feet. Just as she was going to decide whether or not she should say something else he whipped around. He came at her, not in so violent a way as usual, but definitely in a way that indicated authority and importance. He grabbed her by the upper arm, not in a rough way, but in one that led her, and drew out the nearest stool at a worktable for her. He waved his wand and a similar stool appeared in front of her, she supposed for himself. As she sat, she watched as he removed his large cloak to reveal that he did not have his customary robes on. Instead he wore black trousers and fitted boots with a white, button up Oxford shirt. The shirt had wrinkles in it and the top few buttons were unbottoned to reveal pale, milky flesh over bone beneath it. Hermione took a quick inventory of the sight and filed it away for her own perusal when she was not about to attempt to aid a clearly frightened man.

He threw the robes over the desk, letting a few pieces of parchments get buffeted up and off the desk by the quick breeze the falling cloak had created, and sat down, a look of earnest in his face.

"Your Occlumency skills are vastly improved since I began teaching you, Miss Granger."

She blinked, "Erm… thank you, sir?"

"I believe you are skilled enough to at least keep the Dark Lord away from what he wants, and supply him with enough to cease his torment should he get a hold of you." The look in his eyes was blazing, it startled her. She nodded.

He looked towards the floor for a moment before his gaze solidified into one of acceptance, or perhaps determination.

"Something… is going to happen very soon, Miss Granger," his eyes raked back up to hers, "I need… someone to know."

She met his gaze fervently, letting a pause spread her response to him, then said softly, "You can tell me."

His eyes briefly drifted shut at her words, he seemed to almost absorb them, before his eyes opened again, this time the fire had returned, "You must know that the Headmaster only has so much time left."

She quirked an eyebrow, "I thought as much by the hand."

"Indeed," he agreed, "That said, the Headmaster had required me to… assist with a specific task. One that has been set in motion by another, but that which he expects for me to finish myself."

Hermione stared at his petulant gaze and her eyes widened in realization. He noticed immediately and nodded.

"How could he ask that of you?" she shrieked, her voice ricocheting off the dungeon walls, "You're risking your soul by doing such a tremendous act! Not to mention the time you could face in Azkaban!"

He nodded again, "Precisely my thinking," he stated, "The time is nearly upon us… he has shown no chance of… taking back what he initally proposed."

She stared at him in awe, "You agreed to it?"

He merely met her gaze, the intensity of the depth of those black eyes was muted for a moment by a look of pure worry, "I… do not have a choice."

She was instantly terrified. The man was shaken to the core, a man who could never be usurped by anything, and here he was practically trembling. "How could this possibly be necessary?" she demanded, doing her best to keep her voice both soft and demanding.

His eyes were now trained on the worktable beside them, "I cannot tell you. But you must understand that… that I would not agree to such a monstrous act unless there was no other alternative."

She stared at him in shock, in awe even. She chanced another question, "I take it this will be the last of our lessons."

He nodded to the worktable, "The plan is to go into motion tomorrow," he stated, his voice seemingly dead beneath its own depths, "You are strong enough to improve on your own. Continue your independant study. Do as you have been, and you shall not fail."

"School lets out tomorrow." she stated, "You aren't coming back to the Order."

"How could I possibly?" his eyes darkened even further, were that possible, and he added through gritted teeth, "The muderer of Albus Dumbledore."

They sat in silence at his jarring words. The whole situation was eerie and surreal. How long had he known this was going to happen? How could he prepare his soul? Was there any way to save him?

Dumbledore's words from the beginning of the year came back to her, Should anything happen to either him or myself before the proper time, I would be fearful that the world would not know the truth concerning… well, your Professor.

Hermione leaned forward, closer to the tormented man in front of her, "How can I help?"

It was almost more of a statement than a fact. She was grateful that she had used her crush on Snape as a way to train herself to school her emotions, since all she wanted to do now was take up the broken man in her arms and reassure him things would turn out alright, even if she had no proof of that. She schooled her mind on him, controlling her features to not let him see the urgancy she felt beneath the surface, not allowing heated color to ride in her cheeks when she became suddenly aware of his hands clutching desperately at her own.

He's scared and desperate, she reminded herself. Be someone he can trust. That is what he needs.

"No one… can know," he emphasized, squeezing her hands, "Not a soul, understand? Even after this… happens… no one can know. Not Weasley, not the Ministry, not the Order, not Potter," he nearly spat out the last name, but still retained his urgency, "You must keep your mind settled on the fact that I will be Dumbledore's…" he trailed off, unable to say the words again.

Hermione leaned forward a fraction more, resolutely, "I will know the truth, sir," she insisted, "I will not doubt you. I can… sense how hard it is going to be to maintain that but…" he looked at her, almost imploringly, like a child looks up to their mother for reassurance after roughing up a knee, as she continued, "It is obvious to me whose side you're on, sir. I've known that something was going to happen, something risky. I never thought that…" now it was her turn to trail off. Dumbledore had known already, when she had asked for Occlumency lessons.

"Miss Granger…" he cleared his throat, his usual, strong persona seeming to come back to him in small, leveled droplets as he spoke, "For a foolish Gryffindor with foolish faith, I… I find myself grateful, for once." He bowed his head enough to be gazing at the floor again, "I don't know what Dumbledore told you- though clearly it was something- but I find that I…" he seemed to struggle for the words, "It unnerves me what I am to do. I can only hope to redeem myself in the future, but for now it is going to be… difficult."

Hermione nodded her response, squeezing his hands, "Thank you, sir," she whispered, "You've done so much, and you're doing more. I… if there's anything I can ever do to assist you, at any given point, please let me know."

Snape's mouth twitched into something that briefly looked like a smile before it settled back into his resolute scowl that came naturally to him, "If necessary, Miss Granger. Thank you."

She smiled kindly at him, "Hermione."

Snape looked puzzled for a moment, so Hermione reiterated, "Call me Hermione, sir. There's no need for formality with me. Not under such great pressure."

Snape nodded, his eyes seeming to soften a bit while growing back to their normal intensity, "Thank you… Hermione."

Hermione did her best not to show the effect he had on her by saying her name in his voice. It was something she'd begin to dream about at night soon, something that haunted, sexualized, and livened her all at once. She took a deep breath, "Of course, sir."

He met her gaze again, this time it was sharp as usual, without the pleading vulnerability of before, but now he seemed re-enforced with strength. Her breath almost caught in her throat but she forced it to neutralize. His eyes were so deep- at any glance one would say they were black, but now, from this distance, she could tell they were in fact such a deep, intense shade of brown that they came across black. How very fitting.

"Hermione." It was a whisper, a deep prayer that imbued her bones with a pulse, accompanied by a hand that let go of her own and raised, ever so slowly, to her face. She held in a punctuated breath as calloused, warm fingertips slowly reached the skin of her cheek, making way for the rest of the fingers there to continue to softly graze her flesh. There was no holding back the flood of warmth to her face as she held his ever-growing, intense gaze. His face was relaxed, he was not Occluding, there was no guard; it was just him. She felt herself beginning to melt as his palm cupped her face.

"Hermione."

It came faster than she remembered, faster than she'd ever imagined. Their faces met in the middle, both of them magnetized toward the other, lips crashing and melding together. Oh, it was bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. It was marvelous, everything she had ever imagined. His lips were warm and surprisingly soft on top of hers. His kisses were urgent, and it flooded her senses like a drug. She felt her stomach swoop uncontrollably, her head felt dizzy. It became apparent to her quite quickly just how unpracticed she was, but it didn't seem to matter to him, his lips moved against her with a fervor that made her melt into his arms. He caught her and held her tightly to him, arms wrapping around her waist and holding her tightly, while her own arms found thier way to his shoulders, her hands holding the back of his neck and carding through his hair like he was the last thing she would ever touch. She moaned into his mouth and he clutched her tighter. Her mind, for the first time in her life, began to unravel in the most sensuous and delicious of ways.

He took hold of her hips began to drag her towards him. She leaned into him and found herself straddling his lap on the stool, holding him like a precious object. Here he was, the object of her fascination, her affection, for the majority of the school year, the first man she could ever say she had any semblance of real feelings for in a romantic way, holding her close, caressing her, drinking her down as if she was a life-giving potion that would save him. It made her drunk on him. Schoolboys be damned, they were hungry creatures with a taste for the immediate, they saw which they wanted and had no real mind for the deep, but he… oh, he was obviously so very different. The voice, the demeanor, the approach, and now the most delicious of kisses. He trailed his mouth from hersto her cheek, across her jaw, down her neck and she moaned. His grip tightened in response, bruising her hips and commanding her continual closeness. He moaned her name again into her skin as he made his way down, pressing his mouth into her pulse and down, nipping at her clavicle as he pushed the fabric of her shirt away ever so gently.

Hermione was too far gone to care. He could do what he wanted with her, she'd enjoy it. It was far too much to even consider. She could take a contraceptive potion easily enough, if he wanted to even go that far. She had a sudden flash of fear erupt swiftly from her belly- what if he didn't want her like that? What if this was all a mistake? What if he'd regret even going as far as he already had? Little quips from her childhood like small, deep-slit lacerations began to appear beneath her skin, comments about her hair, her teeth, her being a know-it-all. All things the mn now pressing searing kisses to her skin had said to her over the course of the years.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the rumbling of a dark voice at her neck as he trailed his way back up to her, "Beautiful."

She gave a sharp exhale as the tones filled her ears. She had never been told such a thing, not by anyone. She had bushy hair and a bossy attitude, the school uniform she had to always wear did not show off any semblance of a figure, her features, though not unpleasant, were nothing to look at or admire. She was average, plain. She did not thing anyone was capable of accepting her as anything but that- especially him.

But there he was, looking at her, into her soul, with those eyes, seeming to mean every word he had ever uttered, including this one. Her eyes drifted shut like a drunkard and leant into him again, pressing her own desparate kisses into his skin and mouth. His breathing grew heavier and more rapid, as did hers. She tangled one hand in his hair while the other came and rested insistenton on the crest of his chest. His hands became more explorative, one hand finding the hem of her shirt and navigating the expanse of her back beneath it, while the other dipped beneath her skirt and began massaging her thigh. She moaned again, louder, and he responded with a growl against her mouth. She couldn't get the feeling of his complete envelopment of her out of her mind, he was consuming her.

Just as she was about to suggest that they find a place to continue their erotic escapade, a thundering knock was at the office door. Snape growled again, tearing himself away from her. She watched him flatten his hair and run a hand over his face in a swipe, replacing his previous look of intense passion with his usual mask. Hermione quickly ran her hands through her curls and straightened her uniform, turning away from the door as she ran her tongue over her swollen lips and swallowed hard.

Damn.

She heard the door swing open and the sound of Minerva McGonagall's voice was present. She heard her say something about Draco Malfoy being caught after curfew for the fifth time in the last two weeks, and saying how it was no longer her responsibility, but rather his Head of House, to prescribe him detention. Hermione swallowed again, trying to regain her composure as best as she could, trying to maintain a normal stance, as Snape answered cooly, agreeing the same. She didn't come fully back into the present until she heard Snape address her directly.

"Our meeting must be adjourned, Miss Granger. You may return to your dormitory."

She looked to the side, not even directly at the two professors, and nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Professor Snape leave, led by McGonagall, and the door swung shut behind him. The second she heard the latch, she braced herself on the table, her knees feeling weak. She breathed for a few moments, calming her over-beating heart was like taming a wild beast from its cage, and then straightened.

No one can know.

She nodded resolutely to herself, knowing this was a matter of not only secrecy, but of safety to Professor Snape. This was beyond whatever had just happened, and beyond any school rules that were against what they had just done, on top of that. She could think mor eabout it when there wasn't an impending war looming on the horizon. As much as she wanted to stay, to speak with her Professor about what had just transpired, as much as she wanted him, she knew better. She most definitely did.

As instructed she picked up her bag and made to leave.

She stopped short of the door. Her mind racing. Without too much thought, and hoping too many thoughts weren't necessary, she rifled through her bag and produced a Galleon, one of the enchanted Galleons from last year that she kept a small pile of in her bagjust in case. She looked it over for a quick moment, then tapped it twice with her wand. On one side of the coin, on the edge in the detailing, grew a small roaring lion, back to back with a coiled snake. She knew he would notice. It was small, just a crest in the detailing on one side, but it was enough. She knew he knew about her enchanted Galleons from last year, he had been in the room when they had a discussion with Dumbledore about it and the DA. She knew he would know. It was enough.

She walked back to his desk and set the Galleon on the blotter, the side with the lion and snake duo facing up, and shouldered her bag, leaving Snape's office for the last time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn't take long for the Ministry to conclude that Snape was innocent. Well, not exactly innocent, but certainly not responsible for any crimes in such a way where he was dangerous enough for Azkaban. Hermione had kept a close watch on him after their, erm, mishap as she liked to put it, to see what he was really thinking. She had gotten the impression that he was virtually uninterested in his entire trial. He was still as pale and brooding as always. He didn't seem to change much, save for the silver mottlings on his neck from Nagini's fangs. He had made a swift recovery, for someone who had come so close to death.

Hermione had been there, Hermione had seen him. She had watched him die, or so she thought, and it had played tricks on her mind. The entire time she and her boys had been on the run, she couldn't stop thinking about him. Dumbledore had died the night after their mishap, and she hadn't seen Snape since except for whenever he was on the cover of the Prophet. She had an answering Galleon, a twin to the one she had personalized for him. He never used it. She wasn't surprised. Once she thought she felt it warm up in her pocket, while Harry was out exploring the Forest of Dean, but when she pulled it out, it was cool. When Harry had come back after that, with Ron in tow, both of them shivering like autumn leaves in the wind, he told her about the doe Patronus and how it had guided him to the lake with the Sword of Gryffindor inside it. She was more than glad to hear the locket was destroyed, and even more glad that Ron had finally decided to return, but she didn't find out who the Patronus belonged to until after the war; after she had seen Snape die. Harry told her about the memories, and she remembered staggering. She was glad she didn't have to be the one who testified for his memory, but she was so conflicted. She had never stopped thinking about him, never stopped caring about him as much as she did; and the whole time he was in love with Harry's mother. She supposed it made sense. His life had been such an extreme balance between two masters, he would have to have some gigantic driving force to keep him on-track the whole time.

She never spoke to him again. She saw him from afar at the trials with the Wizangamot, but that was it. He came promptly and was guided in by Aurors. As soon as the Wizangamot found him innocent, he simply vanished. He had flooed out of the Ministry and no one had seen hide nor hair of Severus Snape since. Rumors had flooded the Prophet about the dark hero of the Wizarding World, how he had fled to another country and started anew life, how he was organzing the next Dark resurgance to become the new Voldemort, how he had taken his money from the Order of Merlin and made a new home in the country. One article even said he had simply died. She had trouble believing any of it. He didn't seem like the type to simply disappear, but she knew what it was like to want privacy. She was sure, at the very least, that that's what he had done.

She never really stopped thinking about him. She tried too, oh boy did she try. She had tried dating Ron after the war, which most definitely hadn't worked out, especially once he finally realized he was a war hero now and how much women loved war heroes- their relationship lasted all of a month, but they parted as friends. She met and dated a few Muggle men for a little bit, people who didn't know her name. They were very pleasant and they taught her about what it was to be in a relationship, both emotionally and physically. They didn't stick around long, though. The nightmares she would have were too much, at first. And even when she got that little issue pretty much under control, they simply just didn't know anything about her life. They were ordinary. She dated Viktor Krum again, for nearly six months too, until he was asked to teach Quidditch at Durmstrang, and he cut it off. She didn't blame him. It had been a sweet relationship, but definitely not one to last. They, too, parted as friends. During any of her relationships, though, she still had the thought of "what if". What if Snape hadn't gone into hiding after the war? What if he had ever used her coin? What if she had found him during the war, or he had found her? What if she had never left his office after the mishap? What if he never fell irrevocably in love with Lily Potter? And what if she saw him again now? Would anything even happen? She told herself no so often. She reminded herself constantly of her flaws, made more and more apparent with each break up and each dive into the Pensieve of the copies of Harry's memories of Snape's (they were official records belonging to the Ministry, but she was allowed to access them for research purposes). She didn't want to put herself in the past- she had a life to live, and a Department of the Ministry to run and evolve.

She decided to focus on her career, eventually, and by 2003 she acquired her job as Deputy Head of Vampiric Relations, and happy to do so. She got a better apartment in London, not far from Diagon Alley, and she stayed there with Crookshanks, who was getting older but still had some bounce in him still. The landlord for the building was a Squib, thank Merlin, and while she understood who Hermione was, she still treated her like a human rather than a trophy. The building was made to accommodate charms, and her apartment itself, even, was charmed like magical tents were, to be bigger on the inside than on the outside. She had a room for brewing, an office, a decent kitchen and sitting room, and a bedroom and guestroom. She'd often have Harry and Draco over, seeing as how they were in a secret relationship and hiding from the Prophet. Ron would come over sometimes, too, often if he'd have too much to drink and ending up passing out before he could attempt to seduce Hermione into bed. She'd have a few other friends over too, but when the guestroom wasn't in use, she typically kept files from work there, or it was used as Crooks's personal lounge.

It took six years of blood, sweat, tears, and therapy to find herself in 2009. Crooks was still holding on, and life was good. She was absorbed with her work, she read in her spare time, she regularly saw Harry, Draco and Ron. She'd go out for drinks with Ginny and have tea with Luna. She had a few friends from work, but not too many. She knew more of her "clientelle" personally than her coworkers. She knew a lot of them from Hogwarts, but she got to know their personalities and, well, powers more than anything else. For instance, vampires were not nocturnal. They could be awake during the day, the sun didn't make them steam and die, but they did burn very easily and the sun took away their strength if they were out in it for too long. Summer was a no-go, the heat and sun would be too intense for them to handle, so that's when they'd typically stay inside all the time. There were no coffins or form changing, there was no immense need for blood constantly. A little bitof blood, just a pint, could last them up to three days. They could also eat and drink normally as well to maintain their appearance, it was their life itself, and even their immortality, that clung to the importance of blood. More important, however, was the link between the consumption of human blood and the vampire's own humanity. Hermione had seen many cases of vampires who refused to drink human blood as required. Not only would they starve themselves, but they would begin to lose their composure. They began by struggling with their urge, then the urge would receed, and they would think they had themselves handled, but then they'd begin to lose their morality and humanity at an exponential rate. That's when vampires actually became dangerous. They'd use their strength for harm, they'd go into a viscious hunt, rampaging over neighborhoods and small cities. Some would escape into the wild and live like animals. Some would only drink animal blood as a substitute for humans, and while they never became as violent, their tendencies, in Hermione's findings, were of the same ratio at the other Rogues. For the most part, though, vampires were merely normal people. If they ate the right diet, they didn't look as pale as before. Normally, after their rebirth, they'd have straighter teeth, facial features would seem more symmetrical and sharp. Their bodies would be perfected in such a way that would allow them, no matter what they were shaped like, to attract you. Hermione also found that they leaked pheromones, literally. It was part of their predatory side. Their fangs would come out only on their urge to feed. They were stronger and did live longer than normal humans by a long shot, but they were killable, with more than just a wooden stake too even though that was most efficient. They could have unmatched speed if they wished. They still breathed and had pulses, even if it was about as slow as someone who had just been dosed with Draught of the Living Death. But as long as they regulated themselves, they remained very much themselves: good people with a different necessary checklist on how to survive. There were potions that had been created to amplify the amount and potency of human blood, so that vampires wouldn't have to directly feed any more often than was comfortable. Hermione and the rest of those officials in her apartment, by extension, were trained to know what it felt like to be lured by a vampire or to be attracted ton one, as they attract their prey. It wasdifficult to master, but like most everything that Hermione put her mind to, she learned to perfect it. It would be a rare thing to be lured by a vampire, as they would have to be a certain level of Rogue to even entertain the idea, but they all knew it was better to be safe than sorry. Overall, things were much easier for vampires and she was happy to say she had a hand in all of it.

That is, until her job finally made her heart stop when she read Snape's name on one of her morning files. She sat staring at the file for a while, paralyzed almost, but decided to compose herself enough to continue her file work as usual, making sure she did not treat his case as any different than any other. It was her responsibility, however, to interview those looking to be registered herself, and the prospect of seeing him again made her heart start to flutter. It wasn't that over a decade's worth of time wasn't enough for her to get over him, but it certainly brought back all of her what if thoughts. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding all day.

It certainly did answer a lot of questions, when she thought about it. How he was able to survive after Nagini's bite and make such a miraculous recovery with all the odds being against him; why he went into hiding so immediately; why Hermione couldn't seem to keep her composure when she looked upon him during his trials and why she could think of almost nothing except for the feeling of his lips on hers and what it would've been like had they remained uninterrupted. She didn't ever get close enough to him for a physical look-over, but she was certain that any imperfection that she could've found on his face before would now look like the picture of handsome, proud, and dark regality.

She made the necessary arrangements with her department, arranging appointment times and looking into case developments to best suit the needs of each vampire. She would help them on their path to attaining the legal means to survive- providing for them the proper blood type that best helped their craving, proper living situations, job opportunities if they wished to have one, proper registration documents, and therapy if needed. While she never donated her blood for professional reasons, she knew several people in the department who did, and the ministry sectored off a set, but comfortable, ration of blood for the department to provide for their clientelle every other week, while the rest went to St. Mungo's. Though she was not the one in charge of sending out owls to those who wished tobe registered, she recieved notice that Professor Snape wanted to make an appointment for anytime on the following Thursday. It was certainly soon, but Hermione arranged for a late-evening appointment. Most new registers wanted a night or late evening appointment while they began to become accustomed to the nature of their vampiric needs, or while they simply got used to being around the Ministry. She knew that Professor Snape would not want to make a scene either, thinking of his intense privacy over the last decade, and decided that a late-evening appointment, when the majority of the Ministry would be closed for the night, would be best for him.

When that Thursday came, however, Hermione was not prepared for what she faced.

There were murmurs through her department all day. Although everyone in their department was not allowed to discuss their clientelle outside of the department, that didn't stop rumors from spreading. It didn't take long for everyone to find out that the infamous Severus Snape would be making his first appearance in public in the last decade.

When the majority of the department had left for the night, and Hermione finished her meeting with a newly-registered vampire, whom she'd recognized as one who'd attended Hogwarts as a sixth year when she was in her first, she tapped her fingers impatiently for the clock to chime 9:30pm, when Snape was set to arrive.

Sure enough, at exactly that time, her secretary knocked on her door, announcing that Severus Snape had just flooed in to the waiting room for his appointment. Hermione told her to let him in.

She stood and walked around her desk as Snape entered the room. He certainly was striking, but then, hadn't he always been? He still wore his normal set of black robes over his slender but well-built frame, a billowing cloak draped over his shoulders. His long black hair ended just above his shoulders, his nose waslong and prominent as always but did appear a bit straighter than she remembered, and his skin was more a milky-pale than the usual pallid, almost sallow complexion he used to have. The dark circles and bags under his eyes were gone, in fact he looked more Hermione's age, thirty-one, than he did his own, which was nearly fifty. When she came to a stop in front of her desk, their eyes met. They were still that deep, infinite darkness, so brown it was nearly black, bbut something glittered in those depths that Hermione couldn't describe. Normally new vampires looked that way out of hunger or desperation, but Snape, somehow, was still a mystery. Always the rarity.

She held out her hand as he approached her and smiled gently, "Professor Snape, it's nice to see you again."

He took her much smaller hand gently, but firmly, clasping it within the grip of one of his own, still calloused as before, but slightly cooler, "Likewise, Miss Granger." He peeped a small grin at her, allowing her to see his teeth, much straighter and whiter than before. As she'd expected.

"Do sit down," she invited, motioning to one of the chairs in front of her desk. In a sweep of robes from the side of her vision, he did just that as she took her place at her desk.

She already had his file laid out before her, and decided it was best, this once, to not beat around the bush in regards to procedure, as she was sure he had already done his homework on the registration policy. She looked up at him from his file and found him studying her profusely, it sent a shiver down her spine, whether from the intensity of his gaze or from a vampire keeping such an intense watch on her she couldn't quite tell, "I imagine you are already aware of our procedures for new registration, sir?"

"Indeed," he responded flatly.

She nodded, in agreement, "I'm prepared to submit your registration to the board as I am certain that your testimony is true. The proof and informationyou've provided most definitely meets the requirements, and in some cases in regards to the optional information on the form which you've been diligent enough to fill out, you've given us enough to be able to meet your personal needs rather quickly, might I add."

He merely gave a slow nod in response. He hadn't blinked once. His gaze seemed almost hungry, which unnerved her, but she continued without allowing it to show on her face, just as he had trained her to do so many years ago.

"I will, however, need to ask you a few questions in regard to a witnessed testimony that I will add to your original statement to accompany it for board review, with your permission, sir." She was all professional.

His lips quirked up in that smidge of a smile, the way she used to see him hint at during Occlumency lessons. She'd forgotten how much she loved that. He gave a soft clearing of his throat. "Of course, Miss Granger." It was nearly a whisper of a reply.

Oh, that voice. She'd nearly forgotten how good it was. He'd already said her name tonight, but hearing him say it like that… it made her professional side become a facade. She stuffed her newly warring emotions down and forced her self control to take over.

She cleared her throat, "How long have you been aware that you were a vampire, sir?"

"Ten years. Eleven this coming May."

"Are you comfortable expressing how you came to be a vampire or how you came to that conclusion?"

"I was bitten while in hospice at St. Mungo's," he replied smoothly, "A Rogue on the hunt, in my belief. They came in through the window and reopened the bite would I recieved from Nagini."

"May I ask if you noticed your wound having any effect on the vampire in question, sir?"

"The poison had already been extracted from my system a few days before, but the wound continued to bleed. I saw no reaction to any poison or other in the vampire, but I did notice how it made me feel when they began to drink my blood, and when they fed me their own."

Ah, she thought, so that's how it happened. Humans evolved into vampires under specific circumstances, either they got lucky after being bitten and nearly drained of their blood and returned to life as a vampire, or the vampire "traded" blood, feeding their victim their own blood in exchange for the victim's blood. Typically, vampires didn't do the latter unless asked, which brought into question the nature of the resulting vampire: whether or not they could be trusted around other humans.

"Did you request that the assaulting vampire feed you their blood?"

He met her eyes directly, something swimming up from the depths and luring her into his gaze like a Siren's song, "No." he hushed.

It was obviously a lie, but she understood why many vampires attempted to lie in situations such as this, though they rarely knew to. She marked the question as possible, choosing to give him room for doubt and save him the trouble of the Ministry following his activities for the next month. She doubted he would enjoy it.

"And, if you don't mind sharing this, what has brought you to the Ministry to register, sir?"

"A few things," he answered honestly, "I was finding it harder to find willing individuals who could volunteer their… services to me. I looked into what the Ministry provides for people like me and was surprised to find that the bare minimum was, indeed, sufficient even more the most hungry vampire," he quirked an eyebrow at her, "I'm sure that is your doing, Granger."

She looked up from her paperwork and stared at him for a moment before providing a pleasnt smile, "I did not want my department to be subject to criticism that should not exist to begin with, sir. Vampires have the obtain their necessities legally."

He bowed his head, "Indeed."

She filled out the rest of the parchment and spun the document to face him, asking him to sign and handing him a quill. He signed the document in his spiky scrawl that brought her back to her memories of rage at finding that same scrawl covering her Potions essays in red ink. It was a fond memory, now that it was so many years behind them and essay grades were no longer her perogative. She signed the document herself and sealed it, putting it next to the rest of the paperwork and files for his registration case and set them all aside for when she turned it in to the board. While she did this, her secretary peaked her head through the door, causing Hermione and Snape to turn to look at her.

"I'm on the way home, Miss Granger," she smiled her goodbye and nodded to Snape.

"Have a good night, Daphne, I'll see you tomorrow." The secretary bowed her head and left, shutting the door behind her. As Hermione finished sorting, the sound of a second shutting door was heard as the two were left entirely alone.

"Alright, that's all settled," she turned back to Snape, whose eyes had barely ever left her while she worked. She couldn't help but feel a mite relieved when she finally saw him blink. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Professor? Any questions you may have?"

"Actually, yes," he drawled, "I looked into your department's potions sector. There are a few blood replenisher-type brews that I noticed you provide to your, ah, clients," he settled upon the words, "I was hoping I could take a look at them? See if they are, indeed, good enough to help satiate… the need." The words rolled off his tongue in such a way that left Hermione's mouth dry.

She wet her lips, "Ah… yes, of course."

She got up and walked around the desk towards the cabinet that was behind the professor, near the exit. She opened the charmed cabinet with a flick of her wand and pulled out two bottles filled with red potions, each a different shade of deep maroon. She turned back around to find him standing directly next to her, not having made a sound. She would've been startled at this, if she hadn't already had the experience of vampires attempting to scare or intimidate her in that past using a similar tactic. Their speed was a strength, yes, but it was also common. She held the potions up to him and he took them one at a time as he examined them.

"They're brewed specifically with vampires in mind, of course," Hermione explained, "You are given a base potion to begin with, and you had two-thirds potion and one-third blood to whatever dosage you have, and it multiplies the blood cell count within sixty seconds. It doesn't work in humans, of course, only as a blood supplement. One is of a greater potency, used when perscribed by a healer if you've become particularly starved or malnurished for any reason. The other is typically sent to those who require a higher blood dosage to survive."

"It is sent with the blood your department supplies?" he questioned, his nose over the potion, taking in a deep breath.

"Yes, sir."

"You have standard blood replenishers as well, of course."

"Naturally," she agreed, "Almost any potion that has anything to do with blood, we keep in stock. These are just the two most required potions out the the batch we've created."

He took a whiff of the second potion and assessed it under his scrutinizing gaze. He held it up to the light and said while peering at it, "I am willing to donate my services to your department in order to create more experimental potions for the sake of vampire-kind, if you need the services."

Hermione's heart nearly jumped out of her chest, but she forced herself to remain stoic, "I can see no reason why we'd not need the help, sir, though I will have to go through the board to see if that is possible. Having a vampire employed here, especially in experimental potions, could be a potential hazard."

His eyes swiveled over to her from the potion, his head and face slowly following suit, "Understandable," he took a minute step forward, corking the potion and handing it to her, his body a few mere inches away from her own, "But between us, Miss Granger, since you are aware of who I am," he massaged the words on their way past his lips, " You can trust me when I say that I am a trustworthy potion maker. I never compromise my work."

She gave a small nod, her eyes locked onto his, "I… am aware of your consistency, sir."

She took the bottle from his grip and turned briefly to set them back in their respective cabinet. It was just enough time for her to feel him approach her. She froze in place, her hand going to her wand instinctively, but not grabbing it yet. She tried her best to keep her raging pulse at bay while she felt him nuzzle the locks of hair with his nose that she had pulled back with a clip, she could feel the exhale from his mouth dance across her skin. As soon as he had approached her, though, he retreated, allowing her to pull back a mite and turn to look at him. He took a respectful step backwards.

"Forgive me," he said, "I have not been in the presence of a human in… some time. My control is… not what it was a few months ago."

She smiled in acknowledgement, and it was genuine, "I understand, sir. If you're hungry, I can supply you with enough blood to last until your registration is complete."

He shook his head in short motions, "I have enough at my home, thank you, Miss Granger."

"Of course, sir."

"I have one more question, if I may."

"Please," she motioned for him to continue, casually leaning against the cabinet, waiting for him to continue.

He met her gaze with a neutral stare, "It has been some time since I have seen anyone from this world, Miss Granger. As you know, a number of my colleagues have passed, or want nothing to do with me. And any other… friends," he forced the words out, "That I may have had in the past are people that I currently do not want to reaquaint myself with."

Hermione nodded, waiting for the question.

"I wondered, if you would be comfortable with it, of course, if you would like to… come over. Perhaps for dinner. To reacquaint ourselves. Nothing more, I promise."

She couldn't help but look shocked. She didn't know this wizard wanted anything to do with her, let alone be implored enough to ask her to dinner.

"At your… home?"

He blinked at her, "Yes. At my home."

She looked past him at the wall for a moment, considering her options. It wasn't against any particular rules to visit clientelle at their residences, though it was against the regulations to see any clients romantically.

As she considered her options, Snape quickly said, "If you are uncomfortable with it, Miss Granger, I do not mean to impose. You are under no obligation…"

"No, sir," she interrupted, "No, that's not what I was thinking about. I would be honored to join you for dinner. When are you free?"

Snape seemed to relax a bit as she said this, though his face gave nothing away, "I am free this Friday night, if you do not have any plans."

"That sounds good."

"I shall give you the address then," he added, giving her space to go back to her desk to jot it down, "Though I will ask that you not share it with the Prophet or the like. Merlin knows I don't need them snooping about my home like a pack of deranged lunatics."

She chuckled at that and agreed with him. He gave her the address; even though it was in his file, since it had been sealed she was not permitted to open it to look. She thanked him for coming and informed him that the Department would be getting back to him with news on his registration in the next week, to which he agreed. She led him out of her office to the waiting room just beyond, where a fireplace connected to the floo network waited for him. She watched him adjust his cloak on his shoulders.

"Thank you for coming, Professor," she said again, "It really was a pleasure to see you again."

His eyes darted to hers as his hands stilled near his shoulders before slowly falling back to his sides. He approached her then, coming quite close to her before leaning in towards her face. She stood stock still, watching his movements both for any danger and to see what his was going to do while so close to her face. Images of that night so many years ago fluttered in and out of her mind's eye as he came so close to her that his cheek almost dusted her own.

"No… thank you… Hermione."

She felt her veins freeze mid-pulse as she heard, for the first time in years, her name roll off of his velvet tongue. He pulled back and gave her a half smirk as he grabbed a fistful of floo powder and said, stepping into the fireplace, cloak billowing behind him, and the dark wizard disappeared in a flash of green flame.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please leave a review and tell me what you think! Chapter two coming soon~~