The Muggleborn Vampire: A Dramione Story

Chapter 2: Could it be?

Severus Snape was spending his Friday night one of the only ways he knew how: by nursing a tumbler of Firewhisky and staring into his fireplace.

It had been another dull day full of teaching oblivious children that caused him to be hyper vigilant of possibly explosive and missmade potions. Why couldn't they just listen to his instructions and follow a simple recipe? And it didn't matter which Year he was teaching, there was always some dunderhead messing up. He had to stop a First year from almost cutting off a finger while cutting salamander tongue, had to practically reteach a Forth Year how to correctly use a mortar and pestle, and had to stop Potter and Weasley from over boiling their potion.

Can't he just get a class full of competent go-getters once in his life? How about more students like his Godson Draco? He payed attention, studdied, and worked fairly independent, though that's not always wise when working with partners. Or students like Hermione Granger? She could give Draco a run for his money when it came to intelligence and wit. 'No, one insufferable know it all is plenty for a professor's career.' He mused. 'Her hand is constantly in the air and she insists on answering all my questions before anyone else. I would be forced into early retirement if I had to put up with a class full of Grangers.'

Sighing in defeat, Severus brought his tumbler to his lips, only to discover that it was empty. He was about to wave his wand to produce more of the amber liquid when an angry ache of protest made itself present in his throat and his mouth became suspiciously dry. With a grunt, he remembered that he hadn't fed since before morning classes started. Though the desire to drink blood was always present, he had figured out over the years that he could comfortably get away with drinking once in the morning before classes and once in the evening, usually after his last class ended or before bed. This didn't fully extinguished the thirst and desire, but it minimised it to an itchy feeling at the base of his throat and a fairly normal craving sensation, like how one may desire sweets or coffee. This made his day more manageable and allowed him to focus on his job rather than constantly needing to hunt the forest or raid the donated blood supply from the hospital wing.

Severus sat his glass down on his coffee table and stood up and crossed his living room and slid into the kitchen in a flurry of black robes, his vampirism smoothing out his movements and increasing his speed to about double the speed of a normal human, though he was able to get faster bursts of speed when hunting that allowed him to outrun and catch any prey he desired.

His kitchen was empty of the utilities found in a normal kitchen, since he didn't need to cook or prepare his food, but was instead filled with elegant black stands made of metal with individual locked compartments starting about knee height and towering to about a foot above his head. Each compartment housed a woodland creature that had he caught from the Forbidden Forest and the surrounding grounds for later feedings in which he was either not able to hunt due to a late-running detention or inclement weather. He often used these stores for his morning feedings if the sun was particularly active in which his protection salve would not be enough to protect his skin from the harmful rays, or for nights like this, where he had hit the Firewhisky a bit too hard or was too caught up in his self pity to focus on hunting.

He had been finishing sucking the last pint of blood from a rather large rabbit when he heard his fireplace flare up from the sitting room, signalling him to a fire call. Mumbling to himself about not being able to eat in peace, he threw the carcass into the spelled rubbish bin that would deliver it to the Forest for scavengers to finish, wiped his mouth on the black sleeve of his robe, and proceeded to the sitting room to sit in front of the fireplace to answer the call.

"Good evening, headmaster, is there something you needed?"

"Yes son, there is." The no-nonsence voice coming from the normally bubbly Dumbledore startled Severus a bit, though he hid it automatically from registering on his face. "Your immediate presence is needed in the hospital wing. A student was brought in with no pulse and sickly-pale skin."

Severus shifted uncomfortably on his knees. "Sir, if the child is dead, there's not much I can do. No potion can fully restore life."

"No Severus," Dumbledore answered. "I don't think she's actually dead. Or she won't be for much longer."

This time Snape was too distracted to stop the look of shock from crossing his face. "You don't think...? I'll be there immedietly."

Leaving the fireplace, he rushed into his bathroom to clean up from his feeding. He splashed water on his face and spelled away the blood stain on his sleeve. A glint of light coming from nearby glass brought his attention to his flowered alter for his daughter that now covered and flanked the mirror. He fingers brushed over the aging parchment still mounted there from sixteen years ago as he studied the words for a moment.

"Could this be you, my princess? Have I finally found you?"

Blinking out of his reverie, Severus quickly left his chambers, stopped by his potion cabinet, and hurridly made his way to the hospital wing.