The Muggleborn Vampire: A Dramione Story

Chapter 8: Books Can't Save You This Time

If there was one personality trait Hermione was the most proud of, it would be her love for books. Books held so much significance in her life: it served as a ticket to a new world, where you could get lost in someone else's culture or religion or beliefs. It gave you permission to forget yourself for a while and just be.

Even after she learned about her magical abilities and was introduced to the Wizarding World, she still used books to escape. For it didn't matter where she was, what she was, she still had things she stressed about and things she wished she could change.

And when she wasn't using books to escape, she was using them to learn things about the world around her. She took comfort in the fact that if she couldn't escape from her current situation in a book , then she could use those books to learn how to survive without them.

Even now, after finding out that she was a product of a one night stand, unwanted by her birth mother, given to unprepared Muggles, bullied for being something she had no control of, going through a unknown creature inheritance, and finding out that her biological father was one of her professors, who just happened to be one of said bullies, Hermione took comfort in reading.

She first started by reading the letter from her birth mother more times then she wanted to admit. She was truly surprised by the lack of motherly love in those curly cue words. Sure, one could argue that 'Bethany' cared enough about her to give her up for adoption and to cast protective spells on her, but did she ever stop by to check on her to make sure she was Ok? To make sure she didn't accidently leave her with child abusers or pedophiles? And why didn't she meet with Professor Snape to ask for his opinion? She had only met him once, why did she think it was ok to assume his feelings? For all she knew, the Professor could have been a wonderful father.

Hermione could tell he was trying. It was now a week since her birthday and they settled into a sort of normal routine: they would 'wake up' in the morning (for vampires didn't really need to sleep, but periods of deep meditation did seem to clear the mind and keep one's sences sharp), then drank glasses of blood together in the living room, in which they would try to participate in small talk, but it would often dissipate into awkward silence. He would then leave for classes while she stayed in their living quarters and work on the homework he would collect for her until lunch. More blood and silence, followed by more classwork, followed by another silent meal. The evenings consisted of Snape working in his private lab, hidden behind a door in his bedroom, while she perussed his collection of books or worked more on her classwork.

An interesting life.

A dull life.

The following Monday started the same way as the one before: The sharp ache in her throat wretched her out of her happy place, a well lit and luscious library, and thrusted her into her new, harsh reality. The guest room she resided in, though dressed with blankets of purple lace and bookshelves holding a decent collection of novels and textbooks, couldn't fully mask the fact that it was located in the slightly draftly and dark dungeons under the Black Lake.

Hermione knew better then to complain about her living arrangements, however. Professor Snape, throughout the six years she knew him, never showed much initiative to be nice or accommodating to anyone, so she knew it took a lot for the introvertive man to offer his guestroom to her. Even if he was highly persuaded by the Headmaster, or a sense of duty to aid and mentor a fellow vampire, or the delayed sense of responsibility for a long lost daughter, he could have still refused to help her.

Though, Hermione supposed that both the Headmaster nor Snape wanted to be responsible of setting loose a newborn vampire into the world. A world full of blood-filled humans that Hermione would give anything to sink her fangs into right about now.

Shaking the morbid fantasies out of her head, Hermione changed out of her sleepwear and into lounge clothes; no reason to dress in her schoolwear if she was not permitted to leave her living quarters. She opened her bedroom and made her way to the living room, trying to message the burning need out of her throat with little success.

"Good morning." Came the gruff voice of her Potions Professor turned father, sitting in his chair by the fireplace.

"Morning." She murmured, sitting across from him on the couch. She watched as Snape leaned forward in his chair to grab the pitcher of red liquid from the coffee table sitting between them, poured a healthy amount in a glass, and handing it to her. He had hardly motioned the cup towards her before she reached out and snatched it out of his hand with great haste and chugged the entire glass of blood without a seconds thought. Still not finding relief in her throat after finishing her glass, she reached out for the pitcher and poured herself another glass and drank that one with as much enthusiasm as the first one.

Finally, the burning sensation lessened to a dull ache in the base of her throat, in the space between her collar bones, after pouring and drinking a third glass of blood. Sighing in relief, she sat the glass down on the table and relaxed back into her chair and closed her eyes, feeling like she had finally won the battle with the fire of need within her.

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought her back to the present. Her eyes popped open and flicked over to Snape, who was looking at her from his seat, one leg crossed over the other, his face blank save for a crooked eyebrow. "Are you feeling quite better?" He asked.

"Erm, yes, I'm sorry. I bet that didn't look quite lady like, did it?"

"Not particularly." He answered, a smirk playing over his lips. "But I do understand. Some days are better then others. It took me quite a while to train my urges to work around my career and daily responsibilities. But we all start off as bloodthirsty and unstable as I am sure you are feeling right now."

"I'm really not a human anymore, am I?" Brown eyes bore into black ones before Hermione broke it off to bury her face in her hands. "I really am a monster. One that has to be hidden away in order to protect the lives of others. One that her own mother didn't even want."

"Hermione..."

"I'm sorry, Professor. I'm sorry that you have to spend all your meals with me rather then in the Hall with everyone else. I'm sorry that Bethany stole your parental rights from you. I'm sorry that you have to share your living quarters with me. I'm sorry that you have to ward your kitchen in order to protect whatever you have in there from me and my bloodthirsty urges. I'm sorry that the daughter you always wished you had is a buck-toothed, frizzy haired insufferable know it all. I'm....I'm just sorry."

Hermione couldn't fight the tears spilling on her cheeks and down her chin as she stood up and rushed to her room in a surprising speed that she could only tribute to her new vampiric state. She closed the door behind her and crumbled onto her bed, burying her face in her purple blanket. As she wiggled into a fetal position, she felt the crinkling of parchment under her leg. With a grunt towards whatever dared to interrupt her in her self pity, she reached down and grabbed the parchment off the bed and threw it across the room.

Bethany's letter layed crumpled on the floor of Snape's guestroom floor as he stood up from his chair and ran a hand through his hair. Even after years of being the Slytherin head of house, he never became used to consoling weepy teenage girls. With a sigh, he slowly made his way over to Hermione's bedroom door and prepared himself to knock, silently cursing Bethany and his bookshelves full of books for never fully preparing him for the heart-felt conversation he knew he needed to have.

Even though it was eight in the morning, Severus wished he would have spiked his glass of blood with Firewhisky, for he knew that he was headed for an uncomfortable moment with his newly vampiric teenage daughter.

And he was definitely not looking forward to it.