Chapter 1: Interior With Lady

The creaking of the staircases moving could barely be heard over the howling of a wind signalling the coming of a bitingly cold winter. It was as if the castle sensed the silent lull of sleeping wizards, and the stairs switched positions so slowly they might as well have been sleeping themselves. At two o'clock in the morning the Scottish fortress would have looked like a muggle photograph if it wasn't for the one lone teacher circling the hallways.

Professor Snape, unlike the school, marched swiftly through the ever-changing shadows cast by the many clouds drifting past the waning moon. The chill of the stones could not penetrate his many layered woollen robes, and his mind was blessedly blank. It was a good night. The air was clean and he had not been summoned from the grounds during the two weeks since the school year had begun. The professor's eyes searched the corners expertly, though automatically, for mischief makers, but there were none. Not one sound or sight out of place.

He heaved a sigh, and felt more at ease than he had for a long time. He was glad the year had begun. It was normal, routine and easy to control, unlike so many other occurrences lately. His alternative work situation could not be called idyllic or normal by any means.

As his steps were the only sound he could hear, Snape turned down one last corridor before preparing to head down to the dungeons. It was a narrow, old, mostly unused one, which ended by a small staircase leading past the library, and further down into the dungeons. He preferred it to the more conventional route past the Great Hall, as he didn't mind wandering the maze-like tunnels once he got below ground.

The smell hit him first. The sweet, bitter, heady odour of blood. Snape stopped cold in his tracks and drew his wand. His nostrils flared as he forced the air deep down into his lungs, leaving an unmistakable hint of flavour on his tongue. He stopped breathing and threw open the door leading onto the landing. In a pool of blood and upturned books lay a 7th year student, and Snape instantly kneeled by her head, lighting his wand in the process.

Miss Granger. Naturally. With trembling, long, pale hands the Professor brushed her hair away from her neck and pressed them to her artery in search of a pulse. It was there, but weakened. Thank Merlin. The blood seemed to be coming from the back of her head, which must have hit the stairs as she went down. With effort Snape snatched his hand away from her neck and found the injury under her mass of hair. He meticulously avoided touching any blood as he hastily sealed the wound with a low-energy, low-concentration healing charm.

Then her head turned and she sighed slightly. The blood that mattered her hair smeared across his fingers and his breath left him with a whoosh.

"No!" he groaned as his fingers instantly tightened in her hair and his head lowered to loom inches from her own. Goosebumps erupted across his legs and up to the back of his neck. It had been so long...

Snape could not stop his teeth as they elongated and his over-sized, hooked nose as it nuzzled her chin on the way back towards her pumping veins. And just as his tongue lightly touched her sweaty skin, Hermione's eyes snapped open. After two long seconds of bewildered, unfocused eye contact, Professor Snape clutched her tightly to his chest and gasped out a desperate plea:

"Expecto Patronum".

Headmaster Dumbledore was snoring. Even in his sleep he was aware of that. It was a most irritating noise, which prevented him from falling into the pleasant dreams he wished he had. But even though it was a sound of his own making, he felt unable - or perhaps unwilling - to do anything about it. It would entail waking up, after all, and he sorely needed this rest after the week he had had. Meetings with Ministry Representatives never failed to bring him the most excruciating headaches.

The universe, however, did not seem to favour Dumbledore that night. He was suddenly jolted awake by a bright blue light, which took the form of a doe when he opened his eyes. Ah, well. He had fallen asleep in his office chair again. He should have known - snoring always did come with sleeping upright. The Headmaster took this in stride, however, for it was indeed not the first time he had woken up in such a position. He rightened his half-moon spectacles and peered over them at the doe. "Speak," he commanded it.

But the patronus did not speak. Instead it started hurriedly walking towards the door, turning to make sure the old man followed. Dumbledore sighed. Well, there goes this night's sleep, he thought, and levered his aged body out of the chair. The doe's urgency made him anxious, and he had an inkling as to whom had sent it.

Shaking the sleep out of his head, he started down the revolving staircase with the patronus leading the way. As they moved past the gargoyle, Dumbledore started to jog. The patronus was slowly starting to fade, the light getting dimmer and dimmer as it moved ever faster, as if desperate to reach its destination before the potency of the spell ended. The Headmaster dreaded what he would find, and as he turned a corner by the library he imagined Professor Snape's body - beaten, bloody and lifeless - on the marble staircases. He quickened his already hurried stride into a dead run.

The doe did not head for the entrance hall, however, but continued into the corridor leading towards the library's main entrance, and promptly disappeared. Dumbledore knew Snape preferred this way down to the dungeons. Perhaps he had been attacked down there. Out of breath, his hair in disarray from sleeping and purple hat askew, the Headmaster threw open the doors leading onto the stairs, wand at a ready, and was met with one of the sights he feared the most, but never thought he'd see. His - secretly vampiric - potions teacher with a student in a pool of blood.

Dumbledore faltered, with a stupefy at the ready. "Severus," he gasped out, still short-breathed. The red light of the stunning spell pulsing at the wand-tip lit the landing eerily. Snape did not react. "Severus!" he commanded again, and to his relief he saw his employee lift his head excruciatingly slowly. Dumbledore blanched when his eyes met those of the potions master. They were cold, hard, desperate and obviously occluding. His whole frame was stock still and he was not breathing. "Take her," Snape bit out through clenched teeth, but his body made no outward sign towards releasing Hermione. The Headmaster tried to quickly think the situation through.

Of course, he needed to separate the two of them as fast as possible. But it was clear that Snape's control over his vampiric instincts were at a breaking point, and extracting Miss Granger from his vice like grip might push him over the limit. The smell of the blood on the floor was enough without stirring it up even more. He might try stunning Severus, as his first instinct had been, but a stunner at this close range… It could be fatal for a normal wizard. Though he didn't even have proof of stunners working on magical vampires.

Then, to make matters even worse, Hermione woke up. Still slightly disorientated, but sensing danger, she moaned and tried to break free of Snape's hold. The professor was lightening fast. He snarled and pushed her fully to the ground in but a heartbeat, and managed to quickly bite through her neck. Hermione screamed. At the same time, Dumbledore's stupefying charm left his wand and hit Professor Snape in the right shoulder.

Snape was thrown into the door leading to the main library corridor, slightly dazed. He could hear screaming in the distance, but only had eyes for the girl and the purity of her life. He wanted nothing more than to devour her. Growling, he lunged for her, but was met with yet another red blow from the wizard opposite him. "No!" Snape snarled, clawing at the ground where Hermione had rested only moments ago. The warlock had summoned her away from him, and as he was met with yet another stunner, Snape knew that his only chance to feed properly had slipped between his fingers.

The last thing he knew before drifting into the spell-induced sleep was an intense relief as he came to his senses.

Hermione felt very nauseous and dizzy. The whole room was spinning before her, shifting all the time. Her thoughts were jumbled and broken. What happened? Flashes of long, sharp teeth, staircases, cold, hard stone and strong arms swam before her eyes, but she could make no sense of them. She was floating, she suddenly realised. Mobilicorpus, her mind supplied. But you can't use that spell on conscious people… She twisted to see who was transporting her, half expecting to see Professor Snape. Why, she didn't know.

It was Dumbledore. His steps were heavy and his robes wrinkled as he marched before her. They were currently in the Entrance Hall, heading towards the Hospital Wing, Hermione presumed. Funny, she thought. I don't remember hurting myself. Then again, from the pictures and impressions she did remember, perhaps she had been attacked. Maybe there were Death Eaters in the castle. She tried alerting Professor Dumbledore to her consciousness. If there were strangers at Hogwarts Harry was in danger!

"Pro.." she croaked, but her throat would not function properly. She raised a shaking hand towards him and tried to grasp his cloak, but the gap was too large and she hurt. "Prof-esso-r D-Dumbled-ore…" she managed, hand still outreached. To her relief, the Headmaster answered, but did not turn around. "Just a little longer, Miss Granger".

Just as they reached the Infirmary, Dumbledore stopped, Hermione still floating behind him. He turned around in stead of venturing in, a troubled expression upon his face. His eyes studied her quietly for a moment before he quietly uttered "Is there anything you would like to tell me? Anything at all?"

Hermione got a little nervous. Had she done anything wrong? She could remember nothing clearly after heading towards her dormitory before curfew. She had obviously never reached Gryffindor Tower. "Sir," she began. "I… I think I m-might have fallen. Or perhaps somebody pushed me… I don't know!" She answered, on the verge of tears. "Was I… Was I attacked, sir? What about Harry and Ron? Is anyone hurt?" Her voice took on a slightly panicked edge, and she started to move about restlessly, trying to get down. What was this spell?

Dumbledore held up a hand, and Hermione stilled. He seemed so expectant and searching, but not like there was any major crisis. "Do not worry yourself, Miss Granger," he told her. "No harm has come to your friends, or any other student at all". Hermione did not like the way he said that. There was something about his tone of voice, even though the words were somewhat reassuring. Any students, he said. What about faculty? An image suddenly struck her.

"Sir! What about Professor Snape?" She was certain now that it was his eyes she could remember from before - his hands in her hair, healing her. Why wasn't he the one bringing her to Madam Pomfrey? Had he been attacked as well?

"What about Professor Snape, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore inquired insistingly, and rather sharply. How odd.

"Well… He was there, wasn't he, sir? Is he all right?" The headmaster seemed to relax somewhat, for he smiled at her at last. "I am sure he will be perfectly fine. Now, let's get you into a bed, shall we?" He started humming as he entered the Infirmary with Hermione in tow and lowered her onto a bed by the far wall.

Staring up at the ceiling, Hermione watched the shadow play of the clouds move by the stained glass window. Dumbledore had wandered off to wake the matron, and she focused on her injuries. She was hurting somewhat, though the nausea had faded. She was still a bit dizzy, though. There was also some sort of strange sensation in her neck, besides an overall soreness. The sharp feeling in her neck somehow seemed to spread down her arms and into her torso. A hex? she wondered, at a loss as to what else it could be. It was trickling along slowly, though, so Madam Pomfrey should be able to stop it in time. She hoped. Would its full effects take her over when it reached her heart, or when her whole body was filled with it?

Hermione tried breathing slowly as to not speed it up. If it spread with her blood flow - she wasn't quite sure, but it did seem to be connected to her artery somehow - then a rushing pulse would definitely not help. She lifted her hand slowly to feel the injured area, and was dismayed to find that she was still a bit numb. She couldn't really feel what was wrong. There was something, though…

"Ah! Oh, my God! Ok, Hermione, don't panic! Oh God…!" She looked at the blood coating her fingers, its colour dark in the moonlight. What kind of hex left such a physical wound at the same time as spreading inwards? What if it was some sort of acid melting her on the inside as well?!

"No, don't think about it. Do not think about that! Madam Pomfrey will fix this. She has to. If she can regrow Harry's bones she can definitely cure this." She tried talking some sense into herself, but Hermione couldn't help thinking that melted internal organs were somewhat graver than missing bones.

Only seconds later the mediwitch in question bustled into the infirmary in full uniform. She tutted as she reached Hermione's side, and went directly for the wound. "Oh dear, oh dear," she muttered under her breath, waving her wand over the injured spot. Dumbledore stopped at the foot of the bed for a moment, and stroked his beard deep in thought as Madam Pomfrey fretted over Hermione.

"Not to worry, Miss Granger. Madam Promfrey will patch you up in no time at all. You will be good as new," he smiled at her at last, ignoring the sharp look the mediwitch threw him, as he proceeded to exit the Hospital Wing.

"Well, now!" the matron said to Hermione as she finished examining her. "There's not much to do about the wounds, but-"

"Wounds?! Are there more than one?" Hermione interrupted in a small voice. Pomfrey nodded grimly.

"Oh yes, but as I said, there's virtually nothing to do about them. I'll just seal them up and then… Well, we'll see, won't we…" The last part was muttered quietly, and did not make Hermione feel better at all. Pomfrey quickly healed her neck and gave Hermione a potion for the many bruises and the few cuts on her body.

"Is it a hex, then, Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione asked fearfully.

"Hmm, not as such, no. Well, in a sense I suppose you could say… No, no. Not to worry, Miss Granger, this will sort itself out. You just rest, now, it's quite late. Go to sleep!" How one was supposed to go to sleep to such a vague and worrying answer, Hermione didn't know, but after Madam Pomfrey took her leave it didn't take long before the passing clouds lulled her into a deep, healing slumber.

When Snape came back to his senses the first thing he felt was the cold stone underneath him. As he surveyed his surroundings further and remembered what had brought him here, he felt a pang of extreme guilt and shame at what had occurred. His robes were smeared with dried, odourless blood - Dumbledore must have removed the scent - and he was in one of the prison cells in the dungeons. It was very dark, but Snape had no trouble seeing. It was a small room with green moss covering the stone walls in scattered places, with no furniture. The ceiling was high and he could see rusty marks where shackles and other metal objects had been attached to the surfaces. Some hooks were still there.

Snape hung his head and fisted his hands in his long, greasy hair. Even that had traces of blood in it, where the tips had swept over her deliciously curved neck after his bite. Merlin, he inwardly groaned. He had accosted a student. He had drunk her lifeblood. The implications hit him like a hard blow to the face. That student. He groaned again, audibly this time. His chest hurt from the stunners, but he was glad for the punishment. He richly deserved being down here. Of course, he would be sacked now. Perhaps even executed. Perhaps it was for the best.

Snape stood and cradled his head for a long time. His mind was full of images of a little, innocent 11-year old girl with bushy hair and large front teeth, laying dead in a pool of blood, murdered at his hand; and an almost grown woman with beautiful thick hair and perfect, rosy lips offering herself to him. He could not seem to separate the images, yet they would not combine. He tried to cling to the little girl, but the memory of her womanly curves pressed into him on the floor came unbidden. Where it earlier had been overshadowed by the need to drink her blood, the physical closeness overwhelmed him now.

Snape could not remember the last time someone had touched him, or he had touched anyone else, for that matter, other than to separate students in dark corners or fighting in the corridors. Especially a woman - girl. Lily… Had she been the last one? 22 years… Again, the feeling of Miss Granger's breasts pressed to his chest rose up in his mind, and he snapped.

"No!" Snape whirled and slammed his clenched fist into the wall behind him. His blood trickling down the stones made him forget the scene a little, so he hit again. And again. And again. Until he finally sank down onto the floor, exhausted.

That was how Dumbledore found him when he ventured down early in the morning the next day.

"Are you awake?"

Snape did not look at him, but kept his head lowered. "What is it to be, Headmaster? Dementor's Kiss? Or am I to be staked and burnt?"

"It is extraordinary to see how you are so willing to offer up your life now, as you fought so hard for it but a few hours ago." Snape offered no reply. The headmaster sighed. "What exactly happened?" he asked in a world-weary voice, and transfigured his hat into a plush, comfortable-looking armchair in Gryffindor colours before he sat down.

Snape got to his feet and begun pacing in the limited space. He did not have his wand on him - not that he expected Dumbledore to be that careless. "You were there, Dumbledore," he snarled. "I do not believe an explanation is necessary". The headmaster just looked solemnly at him over the ridge of his half-moon glasses. Snape threw his hands up in the air, defeated and exasperated. He knew that look.

"I was finishing up my rounds, and when I got to the staircase I found Miss Granger laying there. I healed her head and was about to bring her to the Hospital Wing when she turned and smeared her… blood… all over my hand. So I called you. That's all there is to it," he finished with vigour, and finally stopped pacing. His feet were planted in a broad, defensive stance, and he folded his arms severely.

None of them mentioned that Snape had not been on patrol duty that night.

Dumbledore finally sighed. "I must say, Severus, that I had hoped to avoid an incident such as this. But, Miss Granger doesn't remember much, and it is possible that she will not put the pieces together."

Snape snorted. "Granger? If there is a secret or mystery or simply a question she doesn't know the answer to within two feet of her, she is at its tail like a hound hunting down a fox."

The old man folded his hands quietly and hummed noncommittally. "Severus, I must ask you. You did not set out to meet with the girl?" The question received him a glare from his employee.

"No, headmaster, I certainly did not. Have you so little faith in me?" Snape fisted his hands where they were crossed tightly over his chest.

Dumbledore continued watching him for a little while, but finally relented. "Very well. We shall not speak of this night again, if it isn't strictly necessary. No one must know," he said sharply. "But I shall be watching you, Severus, make no mistake of that. Watching you very closely indeed."