Author: Lucinda

Rated T for teen

Main character: Severus Snape

Disclaimer: Snape belongs to JK Rowling. I am NOT JK Rowling. There is mention of the Twilight series, which belongs to Stephanie Meyer. I am not her either.

Remarkably vague with regards to a young wizard named Harry Potter, and ignores books 6 & 7.

…..

"Severus Snape?" the voice was gravely, as if the speaker had spent years upon years screaming into the wind.

Severus turned to face the voice, a scowl firmly in place after a day spent attempting to drum some shred of potions understanding into the thick skulls of students, followed by the pathetic whining of brats with thwarted ambitions and topped off by supervising a detention for fumble-fingered idiots. "Should I know who you are?"

The one who'd called his name was almost as tall as Snape himself, with hollowed cheeks, sunken pale eyes and almost waxen skin. Hair the shade of cobwebs had been pulled back at the nape of his neck, making the man's large ears look rather pointed. An old fashioned dark grey robe with hood thrown back draped over lean shoulders and dark clothing. Snape thought the man looked rather practical, clad in durable things that would offer protection from the elements rather than flights of fashion and fancy. This man would win no awards for best smiles or charming looks, but he thought there was a gleam of intelligence in the pale eyes.

"We've not met before," there was a small grimace that attempted to imitate a smile. "The Elders have sent me to give you a recruitment pitch."

Memories of Mulcibar and Rookwood and the sweet-faced deceiver Brunswick flickered through Snape's mind, promising the power to force things to change; chased by Dumbeldore and his whispers of Greater Good and standing against evil, ramblings of hope and opportunity and equality. Two different lies, wrapped in pretty pictures. Talk of the power to change the world for the better from men who had no interest in helping anyone but themselves.

The words emerged in a near hiss, "What makes you think I have any interest in another set of promises? Why would I be of interest to your elders?"

"You sound remarkably like a man convinced others find him to be of little value," the still nameless man rumbled.

"I am aware of my faults. I am neither attractive nor charming in nature. I am impatient, sarcastic, and have a low tolerance for dunderheads, which seems to describe the majority of the human race. Most likely other species as well, though I have had neither the exposure nor inclination to verify such an assumption. I am prickly, inclined to insult, and hold grudges long past when others have forgotten the entire incident. While many find my skills with a cauldron useful, they would far rather those skills be available without the man. A fair exchange, since I loathe most people and have little use for them," Snape glowered.

"Fear not, if you accept our offer, you'll love people," he snickered, amused at some hidden joke.

Words failed Severus, and he blinked at the pale man for a few moments before demanding, "Explain yourself now!"

"And that attitude is why the Elders think you're the perfect choice for correcting our public image," the man nodded. "Call me Owain."

"While your elders may have sent you to recruit me for some unknown purpose, I am not part of whatever delusional world that considers me perfect, or in any way beneficial to public image." He folded his arms across his chest, focusing his best 'Frighten the Hufflepuffs' glower. "An explanation would be appreciated. Now, Mr. Owain."

Owain smiled, baring a set of fangs that wouldn't have been out of place on a wolf. "People are delicious, and it isn't their brains we're after."

Severus Snape was many things, but he wasn't a dunderhead. He now knew what his unexpected visitor was, even if the why was still rather murky. "Precisely why would a vampire, much less a group of vampires, want me to join their number? Further, what effect would I have on the public image of vampires?"

"Have you heard of the Twilight book series?" Owain asked.

"No," Snape paused to consider, and then added, "I suspect it to be a batch of nonsensical twaddle, both from your expression and the name."

"Yes…." This time Owain hissed, his eyes flickering like coals for a moment before returning to ice. "A series of foolish books written to appeal to lonely teenage girls. The books are written like a diary, and the main character is so thinly written as to give no obstruction to it being the reader experiencing the events. Going to a new school, being considered interesting, beautiful, courted by an assortment of pretty boys… But that isn't the worst insult."

"I suspect, from the way you seem to be offended by the books existence, there is something to do with vampires?" One of Snape's eyebrows raised.

Each word was spat out like a profanity. "Sparkling pretty boy vampires. Who don't even drink human blood."

Snape grimaced, "How revolting."

"Precisely. We are not pretty boys. We do not sparkle. And humans are delicious." Each sentence sounded like an oft-repeated chant.

Then Owain looked at him, expression twisting into something close to a smile. "You are the perfect antidote to such intellectual poison. You will never be a sparkling pretty boy. Better still, you make a compelling speaker now, with a few of our advantages, you can be a powerful force to return our image to what we are, what we should be. We are vampires, we drink blood, we should be feared."

It was certainly an idea to ponder. And if that pondering included some particular images of where he might acquire blood and in what quantities… Hadn't he already admitted that he wasn't a nice man?

"My love of potions is stronger than my disdain for the idea of sparkling pretty boys," Snape admitted after some thought.

"You would not be the first among us to have such a devotion. Some have ways to diminish our vulnerabilities. Smoking cauldrons of foul tasting things that permit a brief time in the sun. A paste to speed the healing of certain wounds. Something to ease the blood thirst when clear thought is required." One hand was raised, the gesture forbidding questions. "I do not know how. I can point you towards some of them, if you were one of us. Then you can discuss potions and alchemy to your heart's content. Leon Borgia, Nikoli Zhukovsky, Emilia Leuckart. Imagine having centuries to pursue this reaction or that goal…"

"Would this offer of yours enable me to leave the service of the two who already hold power over me?" Snape's glower had faded to a mere thoughtful frown.

"The magic in the mark from the one who would rule the world would fade with the cessation of your heartbeat. Taking our offer means that wouldn't be the end of you. The stilling of your heart for longer than five minutes would also break your contract to Hogwarts. We've approached professors here before, we looked into it then."

"Binns." Snape countered the claim of how easily he could leave Hogwarts with a mention of the ghostly History deterrent.

"Chooses to remain. Something about his wife waiting for him, and he'd rather not rush. I didn't ask," Owain shrugged.

For a moment, Snape wondered what could possibly be unsettling enough to choose to remain in a festering pit of adolescent hormones and drama. Then he decided he didn't care about Binns' problems enough to worry. "You have caught my interest, though I have questions…"

End Pottery Shard: Snape for Public Relations.