Disclaimer: I don't own anything, least of all ickle Harry Potter.
I just thought that wonderful little question, "What If?" and it took off from there. Hope you like it.
Dark eyes stared in the quiet mild interest one reserves for close observation of quietly interesting pebbles as an old wizard appeared at the end of the street and began putting out the street lights. The second point of interest was the rather stiff tabby cat sitting on the wall outside number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. As the owner of the eyes had nothing better to do, they allowed the often-repressed curiosity of their race to rise and be sated for a time.
The cat, which was obviously an animagus to anyone who cared to notice, shifted form to a tall stern witch with a severe black bun (which (heh, witch) was probably pulling the facial skin taunt and causing all those unsightly wrinkles and loose skin) and glasses in the same shape as the markings around the cat's eyes. The old wizard was beyond old by human standards, going on around ninety at least. Looked vaguely familiar but then, the eyes never paid that much attention to wizards. Wizards were generally en masse a bloody pain in the neck (almost as bad as muggles, never hesitating to pick up a pitchfork and torch before gallivanting off to piss of an ogre whose only crime was eating someone out of self preservation (i.e. it was hungry and the person was stupid enough to be in reaching distance)). And coming from a vampire's point of view, that was saying something.
…Vague amusement followed these thoughts as the vampire realised that there was three, possibly four, innuendos in those last two trains of thought.
Only half-listening to the incredibly boring an longwinded conversation, the vampire picked at a piece of flesh from her last victim stuck between her immaculately white right fang and the tooth beside it with a long sharp fingernail.
From what she heard, a) the wizard was Albus Dumbledore, a bigwig wizard in the Wizarding World (read: eccentric nosy old coot), b) Voldemort (who she always referred to mentally (and sometimes orally) as Moldywort or V to the M to the T (if she was feeling playful)) had gone after a wizarding couple and their baby, c) old Moldywort had snuffed out the happy (in an utterly boring, droll goody-goody kind of way) couple and then had himself been snuffed (oh the irony) by the baby (the delicious irony (also explaining why the wizards are throwing caution to the wind and all-but announcing their presence to the world)), and d) the baby was…
The vampire perked up she became aware that they were bringing the kid here. Nifty-ness. She'd been hanging out for a new pet project. Creating new forms of life was getting boring and there'd been complaints from the Vampire Council about her letting the little dears go and live wild and free (near muggle settlements). But hey, who really cared if some wizards lost a few limbs trying to catch them? Limbs were replaceable these days.
The instant hum of a motor caught her attention and in less that a minute, a half-giant got off a flying motorbike and handed a little white bundle to Bumbledore.
After waiting out another longwinded and sappy but boring speech, not unlike a principal's 'short' speech at an all-school assembly on a hot summer day, the three mortals left and the vampire sauntered across the road in her dark brown leather and nifty brown trench coat (complete with built-in anti-gravity billowing) to stare down her cute little nose at the sleepily blinking brat.
She raised an eyebrow sceptically, and the baby cocked his head to the side while making an "ooh?" sound.
The vampire giggled and picked up the baby before disappearing into the night.
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