20. Impasse

Snape stood gazing out Callie's window into the lake. He hadn't said anything for a while, and she wondered if she ought to comment. But what was there to say? He hated hearing "I'm sorry," and she didn't really have anything else to offer.

After a long silence, she finally spoke up. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Hm," he muttered, looking distracted.

She hesitated, then asked, "Hypothetically speaking... if she'd told you she felt the same way that you did... would you still have joined Voldemort?"

He pondered the question, before he replied in a quiet voice, "I don't know." After a pause, he added, "But it's a moot point. She never would've accepted me if I had."

Callie thought back on everything, and remarked, "I'm surprised Harry never mentioned she was an auror."

"She wasn't," Snape said. "I only assumed based on what she'd told me in fifth year. Dumbledore recruited her into the Order - she and Potter. I'd had no knowledge of the organization at the time."

He came to sit across from her and poured himself a bourbon. She studied him a moment, then said, "I know you only defected because Voldemort went after her. So... are you still anti-muggle?"

He shrugged. "My sentiments nowadays aren't strong enough to be labeled 'anti-muggle.' I so rarely associate with the non-magical, I don't have much of an opinion one way or another."

Callie considered that, and said, "Well... I guess that's something." She went to reach for another Chocoball, and discovered that the box was empty. Once again, they'd spent several hours talking. She looked over and was surprised to see that it was coming up on one o'clock in the morning. "Bloody hell," she said. "I didn't realize how late it was."

He finished his drink and said, "I'll let you alone," making to get up off the sofa.

But she halted him. "Wait - give me a minute." As long as they were still on the subject of the love of his life, there was something that she desperately wanted to know. However, she needed a moment to work up the nerve to voice her query. "I don't expect you to answer this," she said, "but I have to ask."

When she didn't go on, he prodded, "Yes?"

Twiddling her fingers, she said, "You loved her from when you were a kid." A pause. "You always have. You still do."

Again she hesitated, and Snape said, "What are you asking?"

She bit her bottom lip and then forced it out. "Have you ever been with a woman?"

He gaped at her a moment, then practically shouted, "What the hell kind of question is that?!"

"It's a valid question!" she said defensively. "I'm just... I didn't mean it like that. I'm only asking if there's ever been anyone else who was... significant." She couldn't quite meet his eye, and she was surprised that he hadn't walked out at this point.

Eventually he echoed, "'Significant.'" Then, after a pause, "No."

No. She pondered that. Quite honestly, she had meant it in a biblical sense. As far as she knew, the only girl he'd ever wanted was Lily, and nothing had come of that. And the idea of Snape dating was so difficult to imagine. It seemed more likely than not that he was a virgin.

Until he remarked, "But sex and love don't always go hand in hand."

Oh. She dropped her gaze from his, thinking, There's just no guessing with this man. "Yes, I know that," she said. "Believe me." She'd been thinking with bitterness about Winslow and Katie, but Snape cocked a brow, obviously assuming that she had some experience with meaningless sex. "Oh, that's not my drama," she informed him, waving her hand dismissively. "It's somebody else's."

He lit a cigarette and sat back, saying, "That's right, I forgot - you and Longbottom only have eyes for each other."

She was taken aback by that comment, but realized he wouldn't have known that that wasn't the case anymore. She couldn't remember ever mentioning it to him. "Neville and I broke up a year ago," she said.

He looked surprised by that information, and after a moment, he muttered, "Oh." A silence passed between them, and she noted a strange look on his face. It was pensive and a little bit... bothered, for some reason that she couldn't figure out. He took a puff of his cigarette, then said, not meeting her eye, "Frederick Cross fancies you."

She did a double take. Though she'd gotten that feeling herself, it was odd that Snape would tell her that. "Wh-" she stammered, "What, are you trying to fix me up with him?" she asked in disbelief.

"Certainly not," he replied, exhaling. "I'm only giving you a fair warning. Eventually he's going to try and charm you." He looked rather disdainful when he said that. "Don't let him." Then, after a pause, he said with his eyes on the ground, "He's beneath you."

My God, he's complimenting me, she thought. But she just had to ruin the moment. Smirking to herself, she said, "Not yet, he isn't."

He rolled his eyes in exasperation and exclaimed, "Oh, for God's sake!"

Chucking, Callie said, "Oh, come on, you set me up perfectly for that."

Shaking his head to himself, he muttered, "I hate you."

"You love me," she countered, giving him a cheeky grin and winking. "But you don't have to worry about Cross. I'm sort of involved with someone else already."

In a tone of mild curiosity, he asked, "Anyone I know?"

She hesitated, and replied, "I... highly doubt it."

He looked over at her - no doubt noticing the sheepish, almost guilty expression on her face - and asked, "What is he, a muggle?"

There was that derisive tone when he said the word. "Hmph," she huffed. "No."

He studied her a moment, then guessed, "It's a werewolf, isn't it?"

"No," she replied. After a pause, "But you're getting warmer." Snape furrowed his brow, looking puzzled, and when he didn't respond, she said tentatively, "He's a... vampire."

She kept her eyes averted, anticipating his disapproval. She could remember Slughorn's Christmas party three years ago, and how Snape had chided her for flirting with Sanguini, calling him a leech. When he didn't say anything, she looked up at him; his expression was unreadable. "I'm waiting," he said, "for you to tell me that you're joking."

"I'm not joking. He's a vampire."

He simply sat there staring at her for a moment, and she could see the anger slowing building in him. Bloody hell, why did I tell him this? she thought. He's prejudiced.

Suddenly he shot up from the sofa and looked down on her. "Tell me you're trying to get a rise out of me," he demanded.

"I'm not," she said. "Why is this so hard to swallow?"

"Are you mad?" he asked. "You say that you're... socializing with a vampire, and you can't conjure up some understanding of why that information is 'hard to swallow'?"

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "It's not that big a deal."

"'Not that bid a deal,'" he repeated sardonically.

In a matter-of-fact tone, she said, "No, it isn't. I know you've got some less-than-flattering opinions of non-humans, but I've spent time with this bloke and he's not the horror film monster you probably have in mind."

"He's a vampire," Snape said.

"Yes, and Lupin was a werewolf," she reminded, "and he was perfectly tame."

She was actually surprised when Snape didn't argue that, but instead replied, "That's an entirely different situation. One night a month he transformed, and he didn't have to do it around Tonks."

"Oh, well would you look at this," Callie said mockingly. "The man is dead and you're finally giving him the benefit of the doubt."

He glared at her, before saying, "Don't you sass me right now, Warbeck. What do you mean, you're 'involved with him'? What does that constitute?"

Calmly, she explained, "We've seen each other a couple of times." A pause. "Had a couple dates. The same thing that would constitute my involvement with any other man."

Snape scoffed and remarked, "He isn't a man."

Derisively, she said, "Oh, don't do that."

"He's inhuman."

"He's human enough for me. And that's all that matters. I don't need your approval for the people I go out with." Again, she thought of Slughorn's Christmas party, and what she'd said to Snape when he dragged her away from Sanguini: "Stop acting like you're my father. It's not your job to protect me." In the back of her mind, she wondered what her actual father would say about her dating the undead.

Snape turned his back on her and stood in silence for a long moment. Finally he spoke again. "You..." he stammered "...you can't be physical with him."

Callie's mouth fell open and she gaped at him. "Excuse me?" she said in disbelief.

Rounding on her, he declared, "He could kill you. He could very easily kill you during..." He trailed off, too embarrassed to go on. "Even during a mere kiss." She rolled her eyes as he added, avoiding her gaze, "There's no careful way to be intimate with a vampire."

Callie found herself blushing, and said, "I am not talking to you about this."

"Then why did you bring it up?" he asked angrily.

She replied, "I didn't think you were going to rope me into a conversation about my 'intimate' life!"

"You just asked me five minutes ago if I'd ever been with a woman!" he yelled. "And that has no bearing on whether or not I'll make it out alive the next time I go to bed with someone!"

"Well it's no business of yours who I go to bed with!" Callie shot back. "And I would think that if he did drain the life out of me, then you'd be happy to be rid of me!"

He looked oddly offended by this, and after a moment of simply staring at her contemptuously, he replied, "Perhaps that would be a welcome occurrence. No longer would I have to bear witness to your unrelenting idiocy."

She scoffed and glowered at him.

"Every time," he said, grabbing up his cigarettes and moving towards the door. "Every time I give you a chance, you end up disappointing me."

"This has got nothing to do with you," she said. "What, I'm not a bigot like you are, so I'm a disappointment?"

He lingered with his hand on the doorknob for a moment, staring back at her. "Yes," he said sarcastically. "That's exactly it, Warbeck. So glad we got that settled." He then stepped out into the corridor, slamming the door on her.

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Once again, she was subjected to the silent treatment from him. She was starting to believe that she and Severus Snape simply could not get along with each other enough to be anything more than colleagues. But she wasn't going to worry about that now. The winter break started a couple of weeks later, and Callie met up with Ewan that very night. "I've talked to a few people about us," she told him with a sigh. "They seem quite certain you're going to kill me at some point."

"Is that so?" he asked, with a note of amusement in his voice. "And the scare tactics did nothing to keep you away from me?"

With a smirk, she replied, "I tend not to do what people tell me. Bit of a rule-breaker, I am."

"Perfect," he said. "Because we're about to commit a crime." He'd led her into an alley behind the Cecil Decody Museum of Art - an all-magical establishment - and was now mounting a broom that he'd brought along. "Hop on," he instructed, and Callie sat behind him. Ewan flew them up to the roof and they dismounted; he then approached a very large Venomous Tentacula as he said, "There's an entrance beneath it. They put it here to deter burglars."

When he walked right up to it, Callie asked, "What if it bites you?"

But he explained, "Its venom does nothing to my kind," and with a great effort, he pushed it to the side. He then got down on his knees at the trapdoor, which was equipped with six padlocks. One by one he undid them.

Callie watched him work and asked, "How do you know the combinations?"

"I have my sources," he replied vaguely.

"Ya know, we could've just come here when it was open to the public." He couldn't go out in the sunlight, but darkness had fallen a few hours earlier, before the museum had closed.

"Yes, but then we'd have had a crowd," he replied. "You know I'm not much of a people person."

So it would just be the two of them alone. "Is this where you're planning on biting me?" she joked.

He finished with the last lock and pulled open the door, shooting her a devilish smirk. "We'll see how the night goes, love," he said, gesturing for her to head in.

The lights in the museum had been shut off for the night, so Callie and Ewan wandered around in the semi-darkness with only the Lumos Charm to illuminate the many priceless works of magical art. Callie stopped at a sculpture of a naked man and woman in a passionate embrace and examined it. "The Lovers," Ewan said. "One of Centaury's most famous works. Are you familiar with her?"

With a bashful expression, Callie replied, "I'm not very educated when it comes to art."

He considered that and said, "This sort of thing isn't your bag, is it? Would you like to go somewhere else?"

"No. I could use a little culture." She then spotted an unusual painting, which depicted a human woman holding an ugly little mer-baby in her arms and nuzzling it as if it were her own child. Callie looked close to read the title - "Mother of Pearl."

"Hm," Ewan murmured. "I've always had a special liking for this one."

The potions mistress studied the painting, tilting her head to the side in thought. "Can humans and merpeople breed?" she asked.

"No," Ewan replied. Indicating the human woman, he explained, "The story goes that she found the baby washed up on shore. It had been abandoned. Or orphaned or simply gotten lost. The human always wanted a child, so she took the mer-baby as her own. Some say the painting is based on a true happening."

The baby looked just like the merpeople in the Hogwarts lake - which was to say that it was quite unpleasant in appearance. Grey skin, bulging eyes, worm-like hair. Yet the human mother cuddled it with such an expression of happiness and content, that the longer Callie looked, the more endearing both the painting and the ugly baby became. "It's sweet," she remarked after a long moment.

"Aye," Ewan agreed. "Many people find it off-putting. Offensive, even. The idea of a human woman tending to a hideous sea being as though it were a normal infant. There's been debate about the artist's intent. Some believe that the mother is supposed to be a bit delusional. That her desire for a child was so great that she's tricked herself into believing the baby is human itself."

With that theory in mind, Callie looked it over once more, then said, "What I got is that a mother's love knows no bounds. Even if the child isn't hers or even her own species."

"Right," Ewan replied. And after a pause, "But inter-species mingling of any kind has always been frowned upon in our society."

He met Callie's eye and they exchanged a knowing look. The first time they had gotten together after meeting in Borgin and Burkes, she'd let it be known that she wasn't opposed to dating a vampire. But he was a little more apprehensive about the two them getting involved romantically. Among other concerns was that neither her species nor his would take kindly to such a relationship. In fact, Callie had come to learn that vampires generally looked at humans the way pure-blood supremacists looked at muggles - they were considered little more than animals.

Presently, Callie took a seat amongst the various paintings and sculptures and said, "Tell me more about your upbringing."

He sat beside her and began, "Well... my parents belonged to one of the tribes in Northern Ireland."

Callie had read about the vampire tribes of Britain. There were about twenty of them spread throughout the nation, and each of the tribes lived in isolated areas, separated from non-vampire communities. "And both your parents were vampires?" she asked.

"Yes. And it's customary when a child is born within the tribe to turn them as soon as possible. My mother bit me when I was only a day old."

"Bloody hell," Callie exclaimed. "What happens if a baby isn't turned?"

"Then the family is shunned. Humans aren't welcome; not even the children of tribesmen and women."

"And there aren't any... vampire genes that get passed on?"

"No, they're not contained in sex cells. The only way to become a vampire is to be bitten by one."

Callie got quiet for a moment, before she said, "And you were brought up as a traditional vampire, so you must've fed on humans at one point." She'd asked him before how he sustained himself, and he'd told her that he mainly stuck to animal blood, though occasionally he'd break into muggle blood banks or go to the Society for the Tolerance of Vampires for donations.

He didn't respond right away, but looked down at the ground with a shameful expression. "I did," he said. "I don't anymore. My kind will argue it's a matter of biology, there's no malice behind it. It's simply nature's way. Just as a lion feeds on antelope." There was a beat of silence, before he went on, "But most people of your kind can't accept that. 'Cold-blooded savages,' they call us."

There was no way of getting around the fact that "traditional" vampires were cold-blooded, indiscriminate killers. Yet it really was nature; they were made that way, by whoever or whatever created the universe. However, Ewan wasn't traditional. "What made you decide to feed on animals instead?" Callie asked.

"Morality," he replied. "I couldn't be practical about it, the way the others could. It was almost a sport for them, hunting humans. But I recognized that they weren't mindless. And as quick and painless as I tried to make their deaths, I was always haunted by thoughts that their lives had come to an unnecessary end because of me. That they had families who'd be waiting for them to come home, but they never would." He paused, a sorrowful look in his eyes, before he continued, "Some of my people think of themselves as god-like, deciding who lives and who dies. But I never wanted to be a god. I left the tribe when I was fourteen."

"Did you ever go back?" Callie asked.

"Not to stay," he said. "A couple of times a year I visit my parents, but other than that I've been on my own."

They sat quietly for a while, until Callie asked, "Are you ever tempted? When you're around humans?" Like right now, with her.

He pondered the question before replying, "'Tempted' might be a bit strong a word for it. I don't often have to worry about losing control of myself." Turning to face her, he explained, "Imagine that you had a delicious roast chicken in the oven. You would like to have a taste, but it isn't going to drive you into a frenzy."

That was reassuring. "I see," Callie said.

"Unless you're really, really hungry," he added. "But I never let it get to that point."

"So you aren't... hungry when you're with me?"

He held her gaze for a moment, appearing to be carefully considering it. Eventually he said, "No."

Despite what Snape, and later McGonagall, had told her about the risks involved in vampire-human relationships, she felt safe with him. Giving him a soft smile, she set her hand on his thigh and replied, "Good to know."

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They were standing in his darkened sitting room, eyes locked, Warbeck with her back against the wall. Severus began to approach her slowly, stalkingly, creeping towards her like an animal preparing to pounce. In a low voice, he said, "Always had a healthy attraction to dark creatures."

"Yes, sir," she replied, the corner of her mouth twitching up into a slight smirk. "Severus."

Coming closer and closer, he went on, "Intrigued? Fascinated?"

"I only wanna know you better."

Next he was right in front of her, trapping her against the wall. They were close enough that he could feel her breath on his face, and he noted with satisfaction a flush on her cheeks. But unlike the last time they were in this position, there was no hint of nervousness in her expression. "You are curious," he whispered.

She set her hands on his waist, pulling him against her. "I wonder sometimes..." she murmured "...what it might be like to be with a killer."

"I can show you what that's like." He buried his fingers in her hair and ordered, "Close your eyes." She did as told, and he inclined his head to put his mouth at her neck.

He could feel her pulse beating under his lips. Her skin was a few degrees hotter than normal. The scent of her was absolutely intoxicating. As he undid one of the buttons of her blouse, she purred, "Severus..."

And in the next second, he was plunging his teeth into her throat. She let out an ear-splitting scream that was cut off as she coughed up a mouthful of blood. She tried to fight him off, but it was useless; he pinned her wrists to the wall and continued to suck at the wound in her neck, smiling to himself as the color drained from her face, as her body went limp against his...

He awoke with a start, his heart pounding and his breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. Once again, his nightmare had been entirely too real - he could practically taste the blood, even upon waking. Sitting up and dropping his head into his hands, he whispered, "Mother of God."

He got out of bed and made his way to the sitting room, wondering, as he had every night for the last week, whether the girl was with him. Or rather, it. Bloody hell, there were no limits to her stupidity. Vampire-human relations weren't unheard of, but neither were "unfortunate accidents" among such mixed couples.

"You can't be physical with him," he'd told her, and it had nothing to do with bigotry or bias. Simply associating with a vampire was a risk in itself - there was no telling when the creature would suddenly get hungry. But sleeping with one was akin to playing Russian roulette, only with much worse odds. The species had long been associated with licentiousness, luring their victims in through sexual seduction. What better way to get them alone and get close enough to bite? And it made perfect sense physiologically. During arousal, body temperature increased, heart rate increased, blood pumped faster and more strongly. All of this served to make the victim more appealing. More appetizing.

And significantly more tempting. Even in the very unlikely event that the leech had no intention of killing her, he couldn't be expected to control himself in the heat of the act, with the scent of her blood enveloping him, while his mouth was pressed against her own. Or her neck, or anywhere else.

His face twisted into an expression of disgust as he poured himself a glass of wine. He didn't want to think about any of this. Not the possibility of the girl getting herself killed, and certainly not about some blood-sucking savage - or anyone for that matter - touching her or kissing her, much less doing anything else. He would like to go back to the days when the girl was a completely sexless being in his mind.

He didn't attempt to go back to sleep that night. The following day was Christmas, and McGonagall showed up at his quarters to ask whether he'd be joining the remaining staff and students for the holiday feast. Or rather, she demanded that he do so. "Enough with this hermit lifestyle of yours," she said. "The castle is nearly empty; now would be the perfect time to stop hiding down here."

"I'm not hiding," he said bitterly. "I simply don't care to be anywhere else."

"Because of that God-forsaken book?" she asked.

"Oh, to hell with the book," he replied. As a matter of fact, he hadn't thought about it much since he had a whole new issue with which to occupy his mind.

McGonagall studied him a moment, and said, in a tone that suggested boredom, "So it must be your latest row with Professor Warbeck, then."

"What else?" he said sardonically. "It's always Warbeck. That girl has caused me more headaches..." He trailed off and shook his head to himself. "Have I not been through enough? Do I not deserve a little peace?" Actually no, he didn't. Was having to deal with the maddening twit the universe's punishment for all his past actions?

"What has she done to you?" McGonagall asked. "This can't simply be about her... association with the vampire."

"It's about a lot of things," he said. "This is only the latest in a long line of offenses."

Raising a brow, the headmistress asked, "What she's doing is 'offensive' to you? Because I highly doubt the girl has chosen to consort with this fellow specifically to get under your skin."

"I wouldn't put it past her," Severus said. "But I don't believe she's given that much thought to it." A pause, before he went on, "In fact, I doubt she's given any thought at all to anyone but herself. Aside from her precious bloodsucker," he added resentfully.

McGonagall sat down and gave him a curious look. "You seem to be taking this a bit too personally," she said.

Rather defensively, he replied, "And you're surprisingly unbothered by the girl's 'association' with a being whose biological instinct is to feed on human blood."

"Of course it bothers me. But there's nothing either one of us can do to put an end to it. She's a grown woman and she'll do as she pleases. In the meantime, I'm not going to treat her as if she doesn't exist, the way you did for those two weeks before she went home."

"Well, in a matter of time, she may not exist," he shot back. "Not if she continues running around with that savage."

"I would appreciate you not referring to the man with that term," McGonagall said. "That sort of thing is offensive to me."

Severus scoffed. "It's certainly fitting. You know what his kind is like."

"I don't know what he, himself, is like. Not every vampire is..." She couldn't seem to find a word that wasn't derogatory.

"Uncivilized?" he offered.

"There are many vampires who choose not to feed on human blood. I can't imagine that Callie Warbeck would associate with someone who does."

Rolling his eyes, Severus said, "So you're also of the opinion that he's perfectly harmless."

"I didn't say that," she replied. "Of course there's a risk of... accidents..."

They both fell quiet for a while. Severus sat back with a sigh, again shaking his head at the girl's idiotic decision to gamble with her life. He hadn't spoken to her since the night she'd told him about the vampire, and he had no plans of doing so when she returned to the castle. Not unless she was going to stay away from the leech.

"I don't suppose you would consider bargaining with the girl," he said.

Furrowing her brow, McGonagall asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he replied, "that there is a way for you to put an end to this. Tell her that it's either her job or her vampire."

"I most certainly will not," McGonagall declared. "Are we back to that, now? Trying to have her ousted from the castle?"

"Only if she refuses to stop seeing the creature," he said. "And if she doesn't, then yes, I would prefer to have her go."

Looking exasperated, the headmistress began, "Severus..."

But he cut in, "Don't 'Severus' me. The girl is going to end up getting herself killed, and I have no desire to sit around waiting for that to happen. I've already had to watch too many people die. I'd rather have done with her if it's going to come to that." McGonagall surveyed him a moment, and when he looked up at her, it appeared that she was trying to bite back a grin. Severus did a double take and asked, "What in God's name is so amusing to you?"

"I'm not amused," she said. "I'm... surprised. It seems as though you've grown to care about Professor Warbeck."

His first instinct was to deny that. Partly because it was so bloody sentimental, but also because he didn't want to care about her. Not if, one day soon, he was going to get the news that she was dead. "I don't care to see her in a coffin," he conceded.

McGonagall pondered that and replied, "I'm not entirely sure you would've said the same a year ago. I'm happy to see that things have improved between the two of you."

"They haven't," he argued.

Rising up, she said condescendingly, "Whatever you say," and turned to leave. "I expect to see you at the feast tonight."

"If that's so, then you're going to be disappointed."

"Consider that an order, Severus. Too often you seem to forget that I'm your boss. Now cheer up, for God's sake, it's Christmas."

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Hermione and Red had decided to host a party for New Year's Eve. Many from the D.A. were there, and most everyone had brought along a date or new friends. A notable absence was George Weasley, and a couple of hours into the festivities, Red had received a Howler from his brother, consisting mainly of slurred swear words and a declaration that Red was dead to him. "That might hurt," the younger Weasley had said nonchalantly, "if it wasn't the ten-thousandth time I've heard it."

Later on, Callie cornered Hermione and asked, "How could you not invite him? He's your brother-in-law."

"Look around," she replied. "Everybody's drinking. You think it's a good idea to bring an alcoholic into this kind of environment?"

"Well, he's liquored up now, anyway," Callie argued. "At home, alone, with nobody to reel him in."

Hermione shook her head to herself, looking overwhelmed. "And his New Year's resolution was to get sober," she said, a sorrowful expression on her face. "He's been trying for months, but can never go more than a week or so before he falls off the wagon again. Any little thing, any minor argument, and he'll use it as an excuse to have a drink."

"Well..." Callie said "...more often than not it takes a few tries."

"Seven," Hermione informed her. "He was really excited about that last. He said, 'This is it - lucky seven.' Back in August it was, 'Third time's a charm.' And now it's, 'New year, new millennium, new George.' But we're starting to think that this is just his life now. That he's never going to get the help he needs." Callie kept quiet while the other girl gazed off into the distance sadly. After a moment she sighed and said, "I don't wanna talk about this. Distract me. Give me something else to think about." Before the potions mistress could come up with a topic, Hermione asked, "How are things going with Ewan?"

Callie pondered the question as she took a seat. "They're good," she said. "I like him. I haven't been interested in anyone since Neville, but this bloke..." She trailed off, a dreamy sort of smile curling her lip as she thought about their time together. "He's... enchanting."

Hermione sat beside her and remarked, "I'm surprised you didn't bring him here tonight."

With a shrug, Callie said, "I was going to ask you if it was all right, but he didn't want to come. He doesn't like crowds." She sipped from her butterbeer before adding in a dejected tone, "I've secretly been hoping he'll show up here anyway. I'd have liked to have someone to kiss for the millennium."

The other girl bit her lip in hesitation, then asked, "Have you kissed him?"

"Yes, once. The last time we saw each other. He stayed completely still and let me take the lead. Didn't even open his mouth. If I didn't know better, I'd have assumed he wasn't into me."

"How do you know that he isn't?"

"Because he explained it all. That he's never been with a human woman and he's afraid of... ya know... getting close." Hermione studied her a moment, looking as though she had something she wanted to say. "What?" Callie asked.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it and shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "It's none of my business." A beat of silence went by, before she blurted out at a rapid pace, "Except it is sort of my business because you're my friend and I love you and I'm worried about you."

"Ugh," Callie groaned, rolling her eyes. "You're not going to tell me that he's dangerous and that I oughta stick to my own species, are you?" She didn't think there was anyone more accepting of non-human beings than Hermione, so she was a bit shocked to see that her friend had a look of quiet disapproval on her face. "You are?" Callie asked. "Bloody hell, you, of all people?"

"It's not the inter-species part that bothers me, Callie," Hermione said. "Merlin's beard, my entire job is all about improving life for non-humans. You know I'm not prejudiced."

Raising a brow to the girl, Callie said, "I thought I did. But the lady doth protest too much."

"Stop it. I support vampire rights just as much as I do any other being. I'd like to see the tribes disbanded and have vampires welcome in mainstream wizarding society. I've even spoken with representatives from the Society for the Tolerance of Vampires."

Callie sighed and cut in, "I get it, you're an ally. Now get to the 'but.'"

Hermione dropped her eyes, looking a bit shamefaced. "But..." she said "...there is danger in..." she blushed "...intimate relations-"

"Sex. The word you're looking for is 'sex,' Hermione. You're a married woman, not a school girl. Oughta get comfortable saying it aloud."

"All right, then, having sex with a vampire is risky."

"Yes, even kissing a vampire is risky. I've heard that all."

"It only takes one bite. One scrape of his teeth against your skin. And in an instant you'd either be killed or transformed." She paused, concern written all over her face. "I just want to make sure you realize that before you do anything you might regret. Or not have the chance to regret."

Callie took that in and pursed her lips, trying not to look agitated. Rising to her feet, she said, "I'm not an idiot, Hermione, I know what the risks are. And if you really think I haven't considered everything..." She felt like a foolish little girl being lectured by her mother. It was so patronizing. "It hurts that you have so little confidence in me."

With an apologetic look, Hermione said, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm just-"

"Worried, I know. But it'd be nice to have a little support."

"I do support you. That's why I'm saying this."

Callie knew that her girlfriend only had her best interests at heart, and it wasn't fair to get upset with her for showing concern for her safety. Still, she wanted to be able to express her excitement about her new relationship, and nobody could simply be happy for her. Not Hermione, not McGonagall, certainly not Snape, and she hadn't even told her mother or Neville yet, knowing that they, too, would be less-than-enthusiastic. She was going to have to accept that she was alone in this, and hopefully, in time, everybody would come around. "All right," she spoke after a moment. "You've said your piece; I heard it." Gesturing off to the side, "Now go, mingle with your other guests."

Hermione hesitated, before rising up, giving Callie a small smile and wandering off. The potions mistress returned to her seat and took another swig of butterbeer. He's not gonna come here, she thought to herself. If she knew where exactly he was at the moment, she might've taken off to go and get her millennium kiss. As it was, she simply sat there for a while, stewing in her own misery.

Until she was approached by Luna, who greeted her with a cheerful, "Hello, Callie!"

"Hey, Luna," she returned in a not-so-spritely tone.

Joining her on the sofa, Luna remarked, "You look a bit downcast. Is something wrong?"

Waving her hand dismissively, Callie said, "It's no big deal. The bloke I'm seeing couldn't be here tonight."

The tiny blonde girl got a curious look on her face and said, "You're seeing someone? That's nice. I know it was quite difficult when you and Neville broke up."

"Yes, it was. But it's all right now. We're still friends." She gave it a moment of thought, and added, "Maybe better as friends than as a couple."

Luna inclined her head and asked, "Was he a bad boyfriend?"

Callie chuckled. The man was just about the best boyfriend any girl could hope for. "Definitely not," she replied. "We just... weren't meant to be."

The blonde appeared to be considering that very carefully, and then she asked, "Do you still love him?"

The potions mistress was taken aback by that question, but said, "Not like I did when we were in school."

"You're not in love with him, you mean."

"Right." Callie furrowed her brow. "Why do you ask?"

Luna hesitated, her eyes falling to the ground, before she explained, "Because I fancy him, and I would like to ask him out for a date, but not if doing so would upset you."

Callie's mouth dropped open, and she sat speechless.

Luna went on, "I like being your friend, and I wouldn't want you to hate me for going out with your ex. If you don't want me to, then I won't."

Again, Callie didn't know what to say. She looked across the room and spotted Neville chatting with Justin in the kitchen, then returned her attention to Luna. "I..." she stammered. "Since when have you fancied him?"

The blonde shrugged and said, "I've always thought he was really nice. And cute." Surveying Neville, she amended, "I don't know if 'cute' is the right word anymore. Boys are cute. He's evolved into a man." Looking back at Callie, "Do you know what I mean?"

"I think so," Callie said, pondering the muscles and the broad chest and the facial hair. She really must have gotten over him, because as fine a specimen as he was, the desire to jump him wasn't there anymore.

And the idea of him being with Luna didn't bother her. "He doesn't need my permission to go out with anyone," she said. "But I'm not going to hate you if you date him."

"Are you sure?" Luna asked. "I'd understand if it upset you."

"It doesn't," Callie insisted. "And better somebody I like than someone terrible."

Luna smiled and leaned in to give her a hug. "Thank you, Callie. I'm glad we're still friends."

The other girl patted her on the back and said, "To the end, Comrade." She liked Luna. It was easy to see why a lot of people thought her odd, but once you got to know her, she was sweet, loyal, and nothing if not interesting. Callie actually found herself hoping that Neville would be receptive to her advances. They could make for a good couple, she thought.

As midnight approached, Callie looked around and noted that every man she knew was paired up with someone. And she wasn't keen on kissing a stranger. Then again, should she be kissing anyone considering she sort of had a boyfriend? Glancing over at the door, the last bit of foolish hope that he would come through it faded away.

This is depressing, she thought, as the countdown began. Hermione had Red, Ginny had Harry. Luna - Callie was happy to see - was standing face-to-face with Neville. She also saw Lavender and Michael, Ernie and Hannah, Justin and Parvati...

God damn it, I can't be the only single person here. It was the bloody millennium; she had to kiss someone. She set her eyes on the first unpaired person she found, took a shot of Firewhisky, and marched across the room.

"Three... two... one..."

On "Happy New Year," she took Katie Bell's face in her hands and smashed her lips to the brunette's. A few people surrounding them noticed, and broke into a round of wolf-whistling and applause. And when Callie broke away from Katie, she saw Neville gaping at them - the only two girls he'd ever been with, snogging each other.

Bet he'll have fun with that image, she thought, shooting him a devilish smirk.

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The cold shoulder from Snape continued into the new term. On her first day back at the castle, she'd gone up to him with the intention of making peace, but before she could say anything, he'd remarked coldly, "Still alive, I see. And human." Without a word, she'd turned on her heel and walked off.

Then she'd found out from Astoria that he was going over the subject of vampires with his seventh-year class, including certain material not covered in lower-level courses. "The kinky vampires that like to lure young women into bed, have sex with them, and then feed on them," Stori had explained.

Callie had rolled her eyes and replied, "That's a myth. Ewan is nothing like that. He barely even touches me."

But that wasn't exactly a good thing, and she and Ewan had spoken about what was expected as they moved forward with their relationship. "You know I have to be mindful of every move I make with you," he'd said. "Not like with vampire women. There's no danger in giving them a little nip."

Unfortunately, that was something Callie liked. Perhaps the enjoyment of getting bitten was an extension of the vampire fetish, and ironically, that was the one thing that couldn't be done with an actual vampire. But she could live with that. It wasn't only the thrill of dating someone who was forbidden; she appreciated him for his personality, his humanity, the way he carried himself. Not to mention that he was quite nice to look at. And it was disheartening to know that he wasn't entirely at ease with her.

"I know you're only trying to be careful," she'd replied. "And believe me, I appreciate that." Then, rather bluntly, she'd gone on, "But I'm a physical person. I like touching and kissing and everything else that you do with somebody you're involved with. And I'm hoping you and I can do all of that."

The physical aspect of their relationship was moving at a glacial pace. She'd finally gotten him to open his mouth when they kissed, but she wasn't allowed to put her tongue in it, so as not to accidentally hit a fang. "If we can't be intimate," she'd told him, "then this isn't going to work. And I would like for it to work."

"So would I," he'd said. Though still apprehensive, he had agreed to try and be a little less delicate with her. And for her first free weekend of the new term, he'd invited her down to his cabin in the West Midlands. It was set in the middle of a forest, very secluded from the human population, and Callie smirked at the thought that it was the perfect setting in which to murder someone and get rid of the body.

The cabin itself was not at all the kind of dwelling she would've expected a vampire to reside in. The color scheme was very warm and inviting; muted shades of orange and brown, with touches of gold. The furniture was quite modern and cozy. A large stone fireplace burned in the sitting room, providing a lovely glow against the darkness of the night. Callie stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the falling snow as Ewan prepared dinner for them.

"How do you even know how to cook?" she asked. "You've never had to."

"I don't," he replied. "But I figured it might be discourteous to have you go hungry. So I went out and picked up a recipe book." And a grill. He'd needed something to cook with, seeing as he had no kitchen. That had a been a bit jarring to discover when he'd given her a tour of the cabin. "I'd have taken you out somewhere," he went on, "but the nice places always go overboard with garlic."

Callie went over to where he was working, watching him season up one of two generously-sized steaks and set it on the grill. Indicating the other, she asked, "How much do you think humans eat in one sitting?"

He looked from the remaining steak to her, and explained, "They aren't both for you. We're supposed to be sharing a romantic dinner - as opposed to me gawking at you while you eat."

While vampires could eat regular human food, they typically had no desire to. It was neither satisfying nor beneficial to them, as far as Callie knew. "Do you actually enjoy human food?" she asked.

"Not really. But I can tolerate it."

She scoffed and said, "You don't have to tolerate it for my benefit. Go on out and fetch something live. Bring it back here and you can dine by candlelight."

"Hmph," he smirked. "I doubt that my ordinary feeding habits are anything you'd care to witness."

"I'm not that squeamish," she argued.

He studied her a moment, then went over to what looked like a wooden cabinet but was actually a hidden icebox. He pulled out a bottle of dark red liquid, and Callie immediately knew that it was blood. "It that human?" she asked. If it was, then she assumed it was a donation.

But he replied, "No, it's deer. I always keep a few pints on hand. Sometimes I wake up feeling a bit sluggish." Giving the bottle a little shake, "A shot or two of blood is revitalizing."

Callie took the bottle and gazed at it, recalling the sickening metallic taste of the blood-flavored lollipops at Honeydukes. And those didn't even contain real blood. Yet her morbid curiosity was coaxing her to try just a drop of the deer. Looking up at Ewan, she asked, "Can I take a sip?"

He cocked a brow at her, no doubt thinking she was a bit mad, but shrugged and replied, "It couldn't hurt."

She uncorked the bottle, hesitated, then took a sniff. Its scent was similar to how the lollipops had tasted - something like raw meat and coins. "Ugh," she groaned, replacing the cork. "Never mind. And if human food is to you what that's like to me, then please, don't torture yourself that way."

Ewan chuckled as he returned the blood to the icebox. "Human food isn't all that bad," he said. "You've just got to know how to prepare it."

"How is that?" Callie asked.

Going back to the grill, he said, "Very minimally." He flipped her steak over, then removed his own from the packaging and set it on a plate, completely raw. "Mine is done. How do you like yours?"

After the meal, Callie - attempting to sound casual - remarked, "You didn't show me your bedroom when you gave me the tour."

If he could've blushed, he probably would have. Nonetheless he struggled to meet her eye as he said, "I thought that might seem a bit presumptuous. I'm not expecting anything tonight. That isn't why I brought you here."

She smiled to herself at his chivalry, and wondered if he behaved the same way with vampire women. "But are you opposed to anything?" she asked. "Because I was sort of expecting we'd progress to more than just a chaste kiss."

"How much more?"

She gave it a moment of thought and replied, "One step at a time. We'll see how the night goes, love." Ewan hesitated a moment, then took her hand, leading her up to the bedroom. "Can I assume you don't really sleep in a coffin?" Callie joked.

With a grin, he said, "Funny you should say that. My parents had a rather macabre sense of humor. When I was an infant, instead of a bassinet, they put me to sleep in a child-sized casket."

Callie gaped at him. "You're pulling my leg," she said.

"I'm not. Like I said, macabre, they were."

The potions mistress considered that, and smirked. "If they didn't look down on my species, we'd probably get along fabulously."

As it turned out, there was no coffin, but a large, plush, very comfortable-looking bed. Callie looked around the room, taking in the decor, and paused at the sight of a crucifix hung up on the wall. Gesturing to it, she said, "Another myth shot to hell."

He came to stand beside her and replied, "It doesn't cause any damage. However, vampires do tend to be irreligious. The world sees us as demons; there's no happy place for us in Christianity."

"Then why do you have it?" Callie asked.

Gazing at the image of the savior, Ewan explained, "I began studying religion after I left the tribe. More as an academic venture than a personal one. Yet I was taken with the idea of atonement." He paused for a moment, looking both thoughtful and a bit sad. "I've always felt a strong sense of guilt regarding my past actions. The lives I ended. I didn't want to be a demon, and I turned to the Lord for forgiveness." He brushed his fingers along the crucifix as he continued, "It hasn't always been so easy, resisting the temptation of human blood. But my faith prevents me from giving in. Whenever I feel tempted, I remind myself that my desire for salvation is greater than my natural vampire instincts."

Callie studied him, taking in his black eyes, behind which there was something very human - vulnerable, even. After a moment, she remarked, "Ya know, I'd hardly call you a vampire at all. You're so atypical of what I've read."

He turned to face her and asked, "Are you disappointed? Not nearly as exciting as you'd have thought?"

"Oh, you're exciting," she countered. "Just not as much for the obvious reasons." She took a step closer to him and set her hands on his chest. He was clearly anxious about the physical contact, so she told him, "Relax. You can touch me, you know. You don't have to be that careful."

Hesitantly, he took her by the waist and pulled her ever-so-slightly to him. That was encouraging; up until now, he'd been treating her like glass, as if she were going to shatter the second he put a hand on her. "You're always so passive," she said. "You don't kiss me - you have me kiss you. Maybe we're going about this the wrong way."

He furrowed his brow and asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean you might not be so tense if you were the one in control. Take the lead. I've a feeling you're a little more dominant than you're letting on."

He was quiet for a moment, before he asked, "What would you like me to do?"

"Whatever you want," she replied. "Pretend I'm a vampire woman. What would you normally do?"

Again he hesitated, but brought his hand up from her waist to caress her cheek. He then lifted her chin so he could meet her lips with his. It was a very slow, experimental sort of kiss, as though he were testing it out. But he was bloody good at it. He gave her bottom lip a very gentle tug, and she opened her mouth to let him in. She was happy to find that he was bold enough to glide his tongue along hers, and that they could kiss like actual lovers, rather than in the delicate way that they'd been doing thus far.

He ran his fingers through her hair, then brought his hand down and held it at her neck. When he did so, she felt him pause, their lips still locked but his unmoving. He lingered a moment before pulling away and removing his hand from her throat. As he took a step back, Callie gave him a quizzical look and asked, "What's wrong?"

There was a troubled expression on his face as he studied her, and finally he said, "I can't do this."

Her shoulders sunk. "What happened? Everything was going fine. Better than fine, it was really good."

"It was," he agreed. "But..."

When he didn't go on, she prodded, "But...?"

"But you're not a vampire woman. You're human."

She rolled her eyes and replied, "That doesn't mean we can't... People do it all the time, vampires and humans. They make it work. They can be intimate with each other without anybody getting hurt. You and I can do that, too."

Shaking his head, he said - more to himself than to her - "I don't know how others do it. I really don't. That kiss was..." He trailed off and sat down on the edge of the bed, running his hands over his face in frustration. "You've no idea what that was like. I didn't realize just how difficult it was going to be. But it's not simply a matter of not biting you. Your taste, your scent, the beating of your pulse... You're supposed to be prey to me, and the only times I've ever been that close to a human..." he paused, meeting her eye as he concluded "...was when I was feeding on them."

Callie took that in and said, "You told that you weren't tempted by me. Was that a lie?"

"No. But you weren't so tempting when we kept our distance. Imagine a recovering alcoholic goes into a pub. Perhaps he could be around liquor without having a drink, but hand him a glass of whiskey. Tell him to take a whiff and maybe even put it to his lips. Even if he can keep himself from drinking, it'll be a struggle. That's what it was like with you just now."

"A struggle?"

"I couldn't enjoy it. Look at my hands-" he held them out to her "-they're shaking. And despite the fact that I just fed this morning, I suddenly feel the urge to do it again."

Callie stood very still, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. After a long silence, she stammered, "Is... is that a warning?"

Ewan held his hands together very tightly, as if he were trying to keep control of himself. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "But I can't be with you. Not that way. Not if doing so is going to have this effect."

"It's only the first time we've been this close," she argued. "If we gave it a few more tries, you might get used to it."

With a sigh, he replied, "You don't understand how difficult this is. I like you, Callie. I've enjoyed every moment we've spent together. I wanted this to develop into something significant." He paused, before going on, "And despite my standoffishness, I was hoping we'd be able to be intimate tonight. If I believed that I could sleep with you without losing control, then I wouldn't be telling you to go. But I have to."

"Just like that?" she said, disbelief in her voice. "One failed attempt and you're ready to get rid of me?"

"I don't want to," he said miserably. "I want to be able to kiss you and touch you without feeling tempted to bite. I want to continue seeing you, but you said it yourself - we can't maintain a fulfilling relationship if physical intimacy isn't a part of it."

She couldn't argue that, but she didn't want this to be the end for them. "You really don't think you'll ever be able to... get past this?" she asked.

He pondered the question, and replied, "If tonight was any indication... then I don't think so." There was a long pause before he went on, "And I don't want to go on attempting to make this work if it's going to be in vain. Because I can very easily see myself falling for you, and it would only lead to heartbreak."

That did absolutely nothing to make her feel better about this. The idea that they could've had something really meaningful only left her more disheartened. "I would've liked being your girl," she said sadly. "Everybody disapproved of this, but... you made me feel special. The one-in-a-million human woman that ever caught your eye."

A slight smile curled his lip, but he bowed his head as he said, "You are special. No one has ever accepted me - all of me - the way that you have."

Her eyes fell to the ground, and she said, "I would hug you. But maybe that's not a good idea right now?"

He looked up and met her eye, then he rose to his feet, slowly approached her, and took her hand in his. "I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered. With that, Callie wrapped her arms around him, and he did the same, though not as tightly as she did.

"I could've fallen for you, too," she said. "Maybe I've already started to."

She pulled away from him, but he kept hold of her hand as he gazed at her a moment. "Your eyes," he remarked. "I'm going to miss looking at them. All vampires have black eyes."

Shooting him a soft smile, she replied, "I like the black. They're mysterious." The random thought that they were the same color as Snape's flashed through her mind.

She got the feeling that, despite everything, Ewan wanted to kiss her one last time. But instead he backed away from her and asked, "Would you like me to escort you home?"

"No, it's all right. I'll Disapparate." She summoned her coat and wand, before giving him one last look. "You're going to make some vampire woman very happy one day," she said.

"And I envy the human bloke who ends up with you," he replied.

They exchanged a small, melancholy smile, and Callie muttered in a quite voice, "Bye."

"Goodbye, Calista."

She lingered a moment, her eyes set on his, before turning on her heel and disappearing.

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"You gave me a T?" Astoria Greengrass asked in disbelief. "A T?"

"Yes," Severus said. "For 'Troll.'"

Angrily, she began, "I know what it means, you-" but cut herself off, either unwilling to put herself in hot water, or unable to come up with an insult harsh enough to express her disdain for him. Holding up her failing essay, she asked, "Why is this 'T' worthy?"

"Because you spoke of nothing we went over in class," Severus replied. "You rambled on over five feet of parchment about your own incorrect theories, rather than providing anything based in fact."

Putting a hand on her hip, she argued, "Because nothing we went over in class is fact. Those were your theories."

He gaped up at her, taken aback by her audacity to contradict him. "Young lady," he growled, "I advise you to think carefully before speaking to me in that manner. Detention tomorrow night, eight o'clock."

Completely ignoring his reprimand, the girl went on, "Those stories you told about vampires seducing women and then killing them? They aren't true. There haven't been any proven accounts of that ever happening."

"Oh, is that so? Because I can give you a list of dozens of such cases from the last two centuries, and those are only the ones that have been reported."

"Falsely reported," she countered. "I talked to Cal-" she paused and corrected "-Professor Warbeck about it, and she said it's more likely than not that those were accidents between established vampire-human couples. That the lecherous 'bed them and dead them' vampire was a myth conjured up by puritanical wizards and witches to prevent young girls from engaging in sexual activity."

Again, he gaped at her, but once he regained his bearings, he scowled and asked, "Professor Warbeck said that, eh?"

"Yes. And she would know all about it, I imagine."

Severus shot up on his feet and pointed out the door. "Then let her teach you all about Defense and dark creatures!" he practically shouted.

"I wish she could," the girl shot back, sneering at him. "Perhaps then I'd actually learn something useful."

"Get out, Greengrass! And report to Mr. Filch tomorrow night, and every night this week, for detention."

As she stormed out of his office, she replied, "Oh, thank God! I was afraid I going to have to spend the next seven nights with you."

"Now it's eight!" he called out, feeling an overwhelming urge to throw something. When had that pompous little twit gotten so God damn mouthy? No other student had the nerve to talk back to him. Not since Warbeck, at least.

They're friends, he thought to himself. The older girl must have been rubbing off on the younger. Now I've got two of them to deal with.

Except that he hadn't dealt with Warbeck since the beginning of December, and they were now heading into February. As he'd told McGonagall, he didn't expect anything good to come from the girl's association with the bloodsucker, and therefore, he refused to have anything to do with her. If she was going to end up in a coffin, then he wanted to be able to look into it and not feel anything. Better to separate himself from the potions mistress rather than getting closer to her.

Presently, he wandered out to the grounds and sat down on a bench near the forest, attempting to convince himself that staying away from her was for the best. After all, she was more of a nuisance than anything else - interfering in his life, showing up when he wanted to be left alone, pressing him for information about his past...

And yet, he couldn't ignore the fact that he missed her. God help him, he actually missed their conversations, the banter, even her attempts to get a rise out of him. There was nobody else who he could spend hours talking to without even realizing how much time had passed. He'd gotten used to being alone without being lonely, but now...

He didn't want to lose another friend. But she was making that decision, not him.

He sat for a long while, recalling every instance in which she'd gotten under his skin, until a curious sight at the other end of the lawn caught his eye. He had to squint to see it clearly, but it was definitely a red fox sitting in the snow, staring directly at him. He held its gaze for a moment, before it stood up and trotted forwards, coming to a stop a few feet in front of him. If he didn't already know that it was her, the eyes would've given it away. They were exactly the same color as when she was in human form - greenish-blue, a dark ring around the outer edges and lighter near the pupil.

As he looked down at her, he asked in a flat voice, "Does this little talent of yours have any actual purpose?"

He watched as the fox faded into a blurry mass and reformed as the human Warbeck. With a shrug, she replied, "Came in handy once before. You never know when you'll need to make a quick getaway." She approached the bench and he made room for her to sit. "You're not getting up and walking away from me," she remarked. "That's a good sign. Are you ready to bury the hatchet?"

"Not unless you're ready to bury the undead," he said without facing her.

She studied him a moment, then mused, "Ya know, I thought that you were just prejudiced, but even the most reasonable of minds have warned me that I ought to stay away from him." After a pause, she added, "His name is Ewan, by the way. As opposed to 'the vampire,' 'bloodsucker,' 'leech,' or 'undead.'"

"'Ewan,'" he echoed disdainfully. "That's an awful name."

"Yes, it doesn't have quite the same ring to it as 'Severus.'"

Perhaps he should've been offended by that - after all, she knew the history regarding his given name. But he wasn't entirely sure if that was a genuine insult. It was reminiscent of the way she'd used to take the piss out of him when they were on better terms. Such talk was almost welcome.

"So you're going to make me choose between the two of you?" she asked.

"You'll do as you please, as you've proven on many occasions. But you can't expect me to be all right with you putting your life on the line for a cheap thrill with a dark creature."

She took that in and muttered to herself, "'Cheap thrill.'" Then, to him, "When you put it that way, it does sound rather silly. But I don't do 'cheap.' I happen to like him more for his human qualities than his vampire ones."

"Enough to risk your life?" Severus countered.

There was a beat of silence before she repeated his words from the last time they'd spoken. "You wouldn't have to witness my unrelenting stupidity anymore."

Finally turning to face her, he replied, "I don't have to do that while you're alive either."

"And you haven't," she said. "Here I thought we were actually getting somewhere friendly, but it's so easy for you to ignore me for almost two months."

No, it hadn't been. He really did want her to choose between them, and on several occasions he'd been tempted to grab her and shake some sense into her and forbid her from continuing on with the bloodsucker. But McGonagall was right - the girl wasn't one to take orders or listen to reason once her mind was set. She was going to do whatever the hell she wanted.

Rising up on her feet and standing before him, she went on, "There are a lot of things you do that I don't like. But I accept it; I don't toss you aside like you're nothing to me."

"I can't accept this," Severus said.

"Why not?"

"Because it's a mistake that in the worst case scenario cannot be remedied. I don't care how 'human' he is, the bottom line is that he's a predator to you. And every time you leave this castle, I wonder if you're coming back. The whole time you've been having your fun with the-" he stopped himself from saying leech or bloodsucker "-with him, I've been agonizing over the thought of you lying dead somewhere. You want me to accept that?"

The girl got a strange look in her eye that he couldn't decipher. He thought about trying to figure it out with Legilimency, but as long as they were on the subject of her little friend, he didn't want to stumble on something unholy. "'Agonizing,'" she said after a pause. "It really bothers you that much?"

Severus, too, stood up and moved close to her. "Do you truly believe," he asked, his eyes set on hers, "that I would be 'happy to be rid of you?'"

"Well..." Warbeck said, "a year ago you were trying to have me sacked."

"I wasn't trying to have you killed," he countered. There was a moment of silence, and then he turned his back on her. "In any event, that was a year ago. Things have changed."

"What things?" she asked.

He didn't respond right away, not entirely sure himself what had happened or when. But somehow he'd gone from never wanting to see her again to missing her when she wasn't around. He didn't know what was worse - despising the girl or enjoying her company.

"I find it difficult to hate you," he said. "I'd like to. You really are maddening." He paused, then added in a quiet voice, "And the people I care about tend to end up dead." There weren't many he did care about, but his mother, Lily, Dumbledore... Every time he let himself feel something positive towards another person, he lost them.

"So you actually care about me?" Warbeck asked. He kept quiet, not wanting to admit that he probably cared more for her than for anyone else who was still living. And how could he not? Even as a student, there'd been times when she made him feel... valued, in a way that no one else could. But there were very few people who didn't like her; perhaps she had that effect on everyone. Maybe she looked at the vampire the same way she looked at him, and hung onto his every word as well.

He could hear her approaching him, but he kept his back to her. After a moment she said, "Ewan and I ended things last week."

That got him to face her. She was standing with her arms folded and her eyes on the ground. He studied her for a few seconds, then asked, "Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"Because I didn't want to give you the satisfaction," she replied. "I'm actually quite heartbroken; I don't need to see you gloat about it." Now she turned her back on him, but not before he saw a hint of sadness in her eyes.

He really must've been a selfish bastard, because he couldn't bring himself to feel much sympathy. She'd had no business being with a leech, and the relationship never would've worked out in her favor. But he was curious to know what had finally waken her up to that fact, and he asked, "What happened?"

She hesitated, before echoing his own words to her. "There's no careful way to be intimate with a vampire."

That was a bit too vague of an explanation, and it left him with a chilling feeling. How exactly had she come to that conclusion? "Did he hurt you?" Severus asked.

With a scoff, she said, "Exactly the opposite. He wouldn't even touch me. He really isn't the depraved incubus you told the seventh-years about. Unfortunately." The Defense teacher rolled his eyes at that last part. Turning to meet his eye, Warbeck declared, "So you got your way, it's over between us. I suppose that means you can start talking to me again."

"This wasn't merely a matter of winning an argument," he said. "Though I'm not going to pretend I'm not happy about it."

"I wouldn't have expected you to," she replied a bit bitterly. "By the way-" she summoned a gift-wrapped package and held it out to him "-happy belated birthday."

He looked down at the package, his brow furrowed, and asked, "You got me a present?"

"I heard somewhere that's what you do for birthdays," she said sarcastically. Handing it over, she added, "It's nothing thrilling. Maybe even a bit stupid."

He tore through the paper, revealing The Tales of Beedle the Bard in mint condition. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. As he gazed down at the book, Warbeck explained, "You said you didn't have a copy when you were a boy. Your mum had to recite them from memory." He looked up at her, amazed that she'd remembered such a minor detail. With a shrug, she said, "Thought you ought to have one."

He returned his attention to the book and brushed his fingers over it. Forty years old and he finally had a printed compilation of the stories his mother had tucked him into bed with. Only Warbeck would've come up with this idea - another reason why it was impossible to hate her. "Thank you," he said in a low voice.

She lingered a moment before turning towards the castle. Severus tucked the book inside his coat and followed her. "Do you remember me saying that I miss the days when you were an unabashed, insolent brat?" he asked.

"Hmph," Warbeck smirked. "I do."

"Well, I misspoke. Had a talk with Astoria Greengrass tonight. It occurred to me that she's grown to be just like you used to be. And I strongly dislike that girl."

"That's all right. She doesn't like you either."

"I gather. The two of you are quite friendly with each other. Tell me, is there any particular reason for her animosity towards me?"

In a casual tone, Warbeck replied, "Oh, yes - it's because you're an arse. Same reason everyone else dislikes you."

"Ah," he muttered, unbothered by that comment. "Of course."

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Author's note: The last few chapters have been long as hell. I'm looking to get back to shorter word counts, as well as quicker updates. Hope you're enjoying the story :)