Disclaimer: I don't own HP- just caress it.
A/N: Sorry for the long wait- my computer caught a nasty cold- err virus. At any rate, I'm finally back up and running. Enjoy!
Hermione couldn't help but smile to herself. The vampire was a bit unnerving yes, but his tendency to put on a show was really very amusing.
"Sir, have you always been like this?" She asked, hoping for an honest answer from the vampire.
"Like what, dear girl?" Erasmus asked with the same amount of cunning.
Hermione smiled at the vampire. "Always putting on a show, trying to establish a bit of fear that eventually makes you completely cuddly?"
Erasmus began to choke. Never in his years had anyone accused him of such a thing. "Cuddly? You think me cuddly?" He exclaimed, spraying spittle all over Hermione's face. "Those who fought in the Great Vampire wars of 1375 would have loved to hear this. A young pipsqueak of a mortal accusing me of being cuddly?"
Somehow, the vampire didn't seem enraged, but rather, a fright amused.
"Sir, you remind me of an overgrown teddy bear with wings." Hermione could hardly curtail her laughter.
Erasmus tried to glare at her, but found himself falling into a fit of giggles. He shook a finger at Hermione accusingly. "Don't you dare let the others know. How else would I keep control of my classes?"
Hermione laughed a bit more, finding it astounding that this master vampire had been the one who was Professor Snape's mentor. "Sir, can I ask you a question?"
Erasmus composed himself. "And what is that, dear girl?"
"What really happened to Harry? Seriously, the story of a contagious virus was a bit much. Really sir, everyone knows that a virus does not live on dead flesh."
Erasmus laughed at the girl's cheek. "Ahh, but you've forgotten a very important piece of information, Miss Smarty-Pants! We are not dead, merely…undead."
Hermione looked at Erasmus with a puzzled expression. "I'm sorry sir, I really don't follow."
Erasmus threw himself down onto the sofa beside the young girl and waved his hand over the table. A large box of chocolates appeared in front of him. He deftly tore open the lid and popped a chocolate into his mouth.
"Sir! I thought vampires couldn't eat!"
Erasmus rolled his eyes, and motioned for Hermione to partake in the chocolates. "Partly, it depends upon ones line. But truly, we can do whatever we like. Just like magic, you simply need to know the proper spell. I can eat chocolate because I know the spell to convert it into a substance that my body will digest, while still getting the taste of the chocolate. Of course, you do realize that by me telling you all of our secrets, I'm going to have to kill you."
Hermione looked at the vampire wide eyed.
Harry stalked back and forth across the floor of his room. He needed a plan. He was tired of doing what everyone wanted him to do; tired of being a pawn. Maybe he should just let Voldemort have them all; it was their expectations that cost him his childhood. There was part of him that simply wanted to run away. The only thing that kept him from doing so would be the aftermath of being labeled a coward.
At times he surprised himself. Perhaps this was what the sorting hat had meant when it said that he would have done well in Slytherin. He was tired of being the so-called "golden boy"; tired of being everyone's hero- of which the entire wizarding world always felt free to criticize. But he didn't want anyone to tell him what to do, and Voldemort was much worse than Dumbledore or the Ministry.
Like it or not, he was stuck. Suicide definitely was now out of the question…that is unless he could manage to enrage Erasmus enough to get rid of him. The question was…how. While Erasmus seemed to have a short temper, Harry had never seen the elder vampire truly hurt anyone. Not that Harry thought him innocent, quite the contrary. The only thing that Harry knew for sure was that if he could manage to enrage Erasmus enough to truly hurt him, then, maybe, he could die.
Harry thought for a moment and stopped his pacing. How would that leave Hermione? If he died before Voldemort was vanquished, Hermione would at best die, but would probably endure torture and worse. He couldn't leave Hermione alone. She had never caused his problems.
She might have been bossy, but she only tried to help. Perhaps, when all of this mess was over, he would find his own place somewhere and only let Hermione know where he had gone. She was truly the only one he could trust.
Draco smiled as he woke. Then realized what he was doing and tried to force his face into its classic sneer. But for the life of him, he couldn't stop smiling.
To think, Draco Mal- err Snape, waking up smiling. He never thought he would ever have this problem. But then, things had been very strange as of late. And maybe, just maybe, it was nice to know that his father did truly care, and for all his faults, he would never change a thing.
That gave Draco every feeling of hope he could ever wish for. He was wanted. He was loved. And best of all, he never had to set foot back in Malfoy Manor. The only regret that he had was that he really wished he could retrieve the things that the Malfoy's would allow him to take. He doubted that they would really care, but he wanted at least some things from his childhood.
The only way to solve this was to go see if his father had woken for the day. If he had not, it was time he woke. There was much to do today.
After Draco finished his bath and dressed, he walked along the hall until he found his father's room. Carefully, so as to not make a sound, he pressed his ear to the door and listened. Suddenly, the sound of a rather loud snore broke the quiet and made Draco jump about a foot in the air. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself…Snape snored.
If only Potter was here to witness this. Wait a minute, he thought to himself, what do I care what Potter thinks? I must be losing my mind.
Draco slowly turned the knob of the door and entered his father's domain. Draco crept into the room- silently thanking his ancestors for making the floors from stone rather than wood. He was so concerned with creeping, that he neglected to watch where he was going and promptly tripped over one of his father's slippers and slammed his forehead into his father's chest.
Severus jumped and grabbed for his wand, then suddenly realizing the figure laughing like an idiot while lying on top of him was his own son.
"What is the meaning of this, Draco?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow.
Draco cackled harder. "Well, sir." He laughed a bit more. "I was coming to wake you, but rather than how in intended, I tripped over something on the floor. Are you alright?"
Severus shook his head. "Who would have ever thought that my son could be so clumsy? Yes, you dolt. I am perfectly fine, minus the rude awakening. And yourself?"
Draco simply laughed and fell to the floor. Severus had to laugh despite appearances. Only his son could have managed something this ridiculous. And silently, Severus hoped that his son would never find out how clumsy he had been growing up.