A/N: This chapter is really dark. I felt the need to bring back at least one of the members of the Trio, since we haven't really heard much from them since the beginning of the story. Otherwise, R&R, and enjoy!

CHAPTER 10: A HUNDRED THOUSAND WORDS COULD NOT QUITE EXPLAIN

It had only been a month since Severus had forced Morgana to promise she would remain at Hogwarts. And throughout that month, the half vampire was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything besides the constant fatigue she suffered from the lack of blood. The students were frightened of her, more so than when she had first arrived at the school. Her eyes were constantly bloodshot, and her skin had lost its familiar shimmer. A few of the more clever students in her classes had begun to understand what was wrong with her, and made sure to avoid her at all costs.

One morning, when her sixth year Gryffindors were packing their bags and making desperate attempts to reach the door before the bell signaled the end of class, Morgana stood and addressed one of them.

"Miss Granger, may I speak with you after class please?" she said in a weak voice, drumming her talon-like fingernails on the wooden desk in front of her.

She felt a smirk tug on her lips as Hermione blanched, looking desperately at Harry Potter and Ron Weasley for support. They both sent empathetic glances back at her, and Ron shrugged as class finally ended and the students streamed out of the room. Hermione remained at her desk, her breathing slightly erratic.

Morgana made her way slowly over to the young woman, listening to how quickly her heart was beating, reading the fear that was etched all over her face.

"Miss Granger, are you frightened?" she asked quietly.

"I might be, ma'am," Hermione answered in a terrified whisper.

Morgana laughed. "Why? A few weeks ago, you were staying after class to discuss all manner of things with me. And now you're one of the first out the door. Why the sudden change of…heart?" she queried, cocking an eyebrow.

Hermione kept her eyes trained on the empty desk in front of her. "Because…because you always look…," she said the final word with a hint of disgust, "hungry."

"Ah," Morgana said, nodding knowingly. "And you believe that because I kept you after class, I'm going to somehow use you to satiate that hunger?"

If it was possible for Hermione to pale any more, she would have. "I…I…" she stammered.

"How do you think I would get away with that, Miss Granger?" Morgana asked in a silky voice, leaning closer to her student.

"You wouldn't!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from her desk. "The headmaster would have you sacked in an instant!"

"Yes, he would. Which is why it is absolute folly for you to believe that I would ever touch one of my students," Morgana stated in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Then…then why did you hold me back?" Hermione asked as she attempted to calm her breathing.

"Because I know that you figured out why I've been behaving…stranger than usual, and I don't want you spreading rumors about me. There are enough of them going around as it is; I don't need another one about how I attempted to kill you," Morgana explained. "So please, if you would be so kind as to tell your friends that I am in no way going to kill them, it would be much appreciated."

Hermione stared at her professor for a moment before slowly nodding. "Um…I'll do my best to make sure they understand that…that bit," she said in a shaky voice as she gathered her things. As she made her way to the door, she paused, glancing over her shoulder at the exhausted professor. Curiosity crept through her mind, and suddenly she blurted, "What's it like?"

Morgana's bloodshot eyes shot up, looking out from the darkened hoods of her eyelids in a terrifying manner. "Why would you ever want to know?" she asked menacingly.

Hermione shook her head in disregard. "Never mind, it was a stupid question. I had better be leaving anyway," she said quietly, reaching for the door handle.

A rush of wind passed the young woman, and Morgana's icy hand was pressing firmly on Hermione's, preventing her from opening the wooden door to the hallway. "It is a fate worse than death itself, Miss Granger. A fate I would not wish on anyone, even if others felt they deserved it. The very fact that I must survive by killing others –" her grip on Hermione's hand tightened "– sickens me every time I feed. Every time I hear one of you in the hallway, it takes every ounce of my fading willpower for me not to attack you." A terrifying gleam had come over Morgana's eyes, frightening Hermione to the point where she was shaking. "Stalking your prey, night after night; becoming the perfect predator because each time you learn some new tactic that will make you stronger, stealthier…a better killer. Seducing them into a quiet corner, making them imagine insurmountable pleasures while in reality you're only delivering pain. We yearn to be one of you, and while we are so similar in appearance, we are vastly different in every other aspect of life."

Hermione tried to pull her hand away, but it was no use. She knew Morgana was so much stronger than her, even in her weakened condition. "Professor, please…you're hurting me…"

Morgana let out a shrill laugh that sent chills down Hermione's spine. "That's what my first said to me…I didn't know then how to project those images of pleasure and wonder into their minds…hadn't yet learned how to shelter them from the pain of their regrettable death," the half vampire said in a reminiscent tone as she remembered the past. She glanced down at her student's wrist, which was beginning to bruise under her intense grip. She let go, slowly pulling her hand away, and whispered, "To crave someone else's life just to sustain your own, Miss Granger, is something nobody should be curious about. Now, be gone."

Hermione looked as if she could have screamed, but she kept her silence, and rushed out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Morgana slammed the door shut and bolted the lock, collapsing onto the stone floor. She ran a pale hand through her hair and let out a cry she had been holding back since she'd woken this morning. Blood-laced tears streamed down her face and she tried desperately to clear her mind of all the heartbeats pounding away inside her head. That was too close; she had tread on dangerous grounds, far too near the edge of reason.

She had been inches away from Hermione's neck. Mere inches away from killing one of her students to satiate her bloodlust.

That's it, she thought, rising to her feet and brushing off her robe. I'm sorry, Severus, but I cannot keep your promise any longer. The threat to the students is too great right now. She walked to the window and threw open one of the panes, stepping gingerly onto the ledge. I'm so very sorry. And with a heavy heart, she threw herself towards the battlements, shimmering away from the school in mid-air.

Moments later, she had arrived in London, in an alleyway beside one of the more seedy clubs in the city. The old haunt was as familiar as ever: young, naïve humans filed into the disco, unaware that one of them was about to meet their end.

She made her way into the club and through the crowds until she came to the bar. Taking a seat, she refused the drink the bartender offered her, and began scanning the room, picking through each individual mind, hunting for the criminal that always found its way into a room full of innocents. After a few minutes of searching, her eyes locked on the corner of the room; hiding in the shadows was a tall man wearing a blue button-down shirt and black trousers. In his mind, she saw all the evil deeds he had carried out, stealing from his mother and father to pay for the drugs he so badly needed.

Funny. I'll be stealing from you the very drug I need to survive, she thought morbidly as she gracefully made her way across the room towards him. She projected her image into his mind, drawing him to her in every way possible, making it easier to find him.

He came out of the shadows, his eyes searching frantically for the woman whose features had crossed his mind. She smirked and appeared in front of him.

"Who –?"

Morgana put a finger to his lips and took his hand, leading him towards the service exit at the back of the club. The door opened to the alley, where she pinned him to the brick wall and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. His eyes fluttered shut as she sent more feelings and visions of pleasure into his mind; slowly, she lowered her lips to his neck, and pierced the soft flesh of his throat with her razor-sharp teeth. She could feel her body warming as the glistening red liquid made its way out of the man's worthless body and into her veins. Her eyes closed and she relished in the strength that was returning to her muscles, the fire that made its way back into every fiber of her being. His heartbeat began to fade and the flow of crimson reduced to a trickle, and she released the now lifeless body, watching it slide down the wall into a heap on the ground.

She licked her lips and sighed, happy that she had finally been able to release the killer instinct she had kept in check for most of the year.

A faint glimmer, too noticeable to be a wizard Apparating, flickered out of the corner of her eye. Morgana turned and held back a scream as she faced the man responsible for half of who she was, backing against the wall in fright.

"No…no…" she whispered pathetically.

"Ah, yes……that's my girl! Go for the evil-doers, they always taste better," Alistair Cimmerii purred, his pale blue eyes glimmering in the lamplight.

"Then I suppose the Dark Lord would be a special treat?" Morgana snapped, praying that he couldn't hear the quickening pace at which her heart was pounding.

Alistair moved towards her. "Tsk, tsk, my dear…that wasn't very nice," he scolded, wagging his finger.

"What would you know about being nice? You, who left me and my mother; you who beat her almost every day, you –"

"Silence!"

Morgana hissed at her father, jaw set and eyes bloodshot with rage as they welled with tears.

"You gave up your own flesh and blood to the enemy!" Alistair yelled, taking another step towards her, boots clacking loudly against the slick pavement. "You almost had me arrested and sent to Azkaban!"

"And it is where you belong!" Morgana screamed.

Alistair glared at his daughter, the thin line of dark hair on his head standing on end. He took one last step towards her before lunging forward, grabbing Morgana and bringing her down to the wet road beneath their feet. She stifled another scream as she realized that if she was going to die tonight, then so be it.

The vampire put one knee on the ground, and the other square on her back, pinning her so she couldn't move. "How does it feel, daughter, being on the other end of this cat-and-mouse game we all play?" he whispered in her ear as his hand caressed her hair. He pushed most of it aside, revealing the pale, delicate neck she had inherited from her mother. "Oh, how I am going to enjoy this," he uttered as he curled back his lips and brought his mouth down over her throat.

Morgana clenched her eyes shut and prepared for the immense pain she knew was to come, when –

"Stupefy!"

A jet of red magic hurled its way at Alistair and knocked him off Morgana, who leapt to her feet and ran in the direction of her protector. An arm snaked its way around her waist, and its owner shouted, "I can't Apparate us inside the school, you'll have to shimmer!"

Morgana willed the both of them back to the school, back to protection, and in a heartbeat they were safe inside the entrance hall. She collapsed to the floor, shaking with terror and clutching instinctively at her wet robes. When her eyes became adjusted to the dim candlelight, she looked up and saw two black eyes peering angrily at her.