Disclaimer: I don't own any of JK. Rowling's characters. I only play with them.
Wanderings
The bright flashes of lightning brought day to the dark sky, illuminating the crooked and crumbling stones of the dreary castle, as Hermione and Harry approached. The storm's rage stung their faces and soaked through the couple's clothing as they made their way up the mountainside where their now broken portkey had transported them.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Mione?" Harry sputtered, shivering from the wind and rain.
"I see no other choice, Harry," Hermione replied hoarsely.
The road was rough and untraveled, and the castle towered menacingly over them, filling them with fear and doubt.
As Hermione pounded her fist against the thick wooden door, her knocks echoed throughout the castle, reverberating back with an ominous sound. The door creaked open to an empty room. Hesitantly, the couple entered to find a familiar, yet unsettling figure standing at the top of the stairs.
"Professor Snape?" Hermione questioned. He did resemble her hated Potions Master, yet there was something strange, something not right about his appearance. Lightning flashed, and sharp teeth glistened in the dark.
Sweeping down the stairs, more like a ghost than any human she had ever encountered, his cold fingers grasped her hand and, pulling it to his mouth, kissed her--something sharp lightly grazed her soft skin.
"Good Eevening, Miss Grrangerr," he welcomed in a thick accent. Obviously he was Professor Snape. He knew who she was, but something was definitely amiss. His eyes though, were deep and mesmerizing. Hermione knew she could become lost in those eyes.
"Have you been to Italy lately, sir?" Harry asked sarcastically, interrupting her wonderful thoughts.
"Actually, I've spent several veeks in Rromania," he said as he waved his hand dismissively in front of their faces.
Leaning over to whisper in Harry's ear, Hermione suggested, "I've heard some accents grow on people pretty fast."
Harry just glared skeptically at her.
Suddenly, the door slammed shut and two high-pitched yelps sounded near their feet.
"Oh, you've got puppies!" Hermione cooed bending down to pat the littlest one's fur. "I never thought you for an animal lover. They're soooooo cute," she purred.
"Dey are not cute! Dey are my hell hounds. And you two arre now my prisoners! Muwahaahaa!" Snape cackled spreading his cape out like large bat wings.
"Stop it, professor. You're scaring them. Poor little puppies," Hermione lifted one up, cuddling it protectively in her arms.
Before either Hermione or Harry had a chance to react, Snape swooped down upon Harry nuzzling his face into Harry's neck.
"Get off," Harry shouted, pushing away. "I stay on the straight and narrow, you greasy git! I don't care what that Draco Malfoy says we did. He's a lying pansy!" Looking at the large rip near his shoulder, he continued, "Hey! That was my favorite shirt."
Sensing that no one was safe, Hermione rushed forward to save the other puppy. "I won't let him hurt you, you poor thing."
"DEY ARE NOT POOR LITTLE TINGS. DEY ARE MY HELL HOUNDS!" Snape bellowed in a furious rage.
Hermione held her ground and glared up at him, intent on saving the poor creatures from being used as potions' ingredients or what ever cruel plan Snape had for them. This show of fearlessness had an unexpected effect as Snape's anger washed away, and his face sunk into something much more pathetic. Collapsing on the bottom stair, the Potions Master laid his head in his hands and muttered, "I am a failure. De oder vampires never said it would be dis difficult."
Any repulsion or disgust Hermione had felt for her professor melted away at the sight of his confession. She suddenly and urgently felt the need to help and comfort him. "It's all right professor," she soothed as she tentatively approached him, placing the two puppies in his lap and wrapping her arms gently around his thin figure. "You've only been truly evil for a few weeks. It takes practice," and she wiped away the bloody tears from his cheek.
Straightening back up, she pushed Snape's greasy hair from his face and smiled sympathetically into his black, soulless eyes. Walking over to the small statue that sat on edge of the bannister, she glanced casually down at Snape and asked, "May I use this?"
"But of course, my dearr," he replied. The grief now faded from his voice.
In an instant, Hermione had bashed a very surprised and now very unconscious Harry over the head. His body sprawled elegantly onto the floor by her professor's feet.
"It will be easier to bite the neck, if your victim is unable to struggle," she said nonchalantly as she returned the statue to its pillar.
"But you are his friend. Why do you help me?" Snape asked with shock.
"It's my one weakness. I'm always trying to help lost causes," she paused thoughtfully before continuing, "besides, you are very sexy with your dark, deathly aora and your exotic accent. After you have had your fill of him, I'd let you taste me. But only a taste."
"Hmm. Miss Granger. You are a remarkable, enchanting voman!" And with that, he swooped down, sucking Harry dry. As Harry's corpse lay deathly still at the bottom of the stairs, staring lifelessly at the pair, Snape gracefully lifted Hermione and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom so that they could make wild, passionate love.
The moral to the story is: Love may come in the most unexpected of places.