I don't own any part of Harry Potter, Trueblood, etc and so forth and make no money off this fic. All rights to JK, WB, Scholastic and Charlaine Harris. (Love you Charlaine!)

PLEASE READ AN: Yes, I blatantly borrowed the major plot points from the Sookie Stackhouse series. If you don't know those books, they are loads of fun and you will love them. If you do know them, the only thing I borrowed was the idea behind her revealed vampires world. The timeline is totes off and it doesn't borrow any of her characters. This is not a proper crossover fic, in other words. Also, like the summary warns, eventually it will be Severus/Hermione/Draco. So, if any of the above items squicks you out, jump ship now, because nobody likes a whiner. Consider this your warning!

Inspired by and written for Chompers (chompthecrocodile)

Severus' fangs snicked out and he ran his tongue along the edge of one thoughtfully as he peered out his window and into the night. It was raining again and he was less than happy about the weather, to say the least. Particularly because he really needed to get to the convenience store on the corner a block away and pick up some more bottles of the A negative. He had exactly one bottle left and he was feeling…peckish. Which wasn't a good thing when he was expecting company later one of the non-fanged variety. With an annoyed sigh, he pulled on his black pea coat and grabbed his umbrella from the stand in his entryway; before opening the door of his small-ish flat and stepping out into the dim lighting of the outer hallway. Then it was down the stairs to greet the damp and darkness and make his blood run.

Hermione Granger kept the bright smile pasted on her face even when the female vampire at the door gave her a once over that made her blood run cold (absolutely no pun intended). She held her clipboard and enchanted quill forward and waited politely while the vampire- no, woman, she reminded herself- filled out the questionnaire. They were thinking, feeling magical creatures after all, same as house elves- more intelligent than house elves, in fact. They deserved the same rights, the same freedoms (within moderation and morality) as those among her own beloved elvish cause. There were plenty of former witches and wizards who'd become vampires, for instance- some of whom had never fully given up their magic. And what of the muggles who were changed without their consent or knowledge?

No, there was no doubt her work in the last year and a half since the Great Revelation was very important. The ministry was still struggling to deal with the acknowledgement the muggle world was giving the creatures (because if the muggles accepted the vampires, why shouldn't the ministry, was their argument), while trying to keep their own existence a secret. That was the real problem the ministry had with the Revelation- that the vampires had taken it into their own heads to reveal themselves to muggles, without a care in the world for the consequences to the rest of humanity's hidden side. In fact, the ministry had very nearly gone to war with the vampires over the issue. It had only been her department's quick thinking, with the aid of Arthur Weasley's and Harry Potter's good words, that had kept them from having an all out cold war with the creatures.

Now they were at an uneasy truce, one that involved loads of paperwork and regulations, and lots of experimentation and data gathering. Which was what Hermione was up to, just then, as she took the clipboard back from the woman with a smile and hid her shiver as the woman smiled back, fangs fully out. She still wasn't quite used to the way that looked and she wasn't sure one ever really got used to something like that. Still, it was part of her job and it was something she'd actually campaigned to do. How could she expect people to take her position on rights for house elves seriously if she didn't prescribe to the same rights for all magical creatures? And, as it was, the work was quite fascinating. She'd met plenty of vampires, tasked as she was with hunting them down all over the British Isles; and though many stories had a similar start, each vampire's life was unique and filled with adventure.

She'd had to start with the oldest ones, as a matter of respect, and she was finally nearing the bottom of the list, getting to the ones turned in the last fifteen years- which made her work even more interesting. After all, it had only been a decade since the fall of Voldemort and she'd been right in the thick of things when some of these men and women were changed. Hell, some of them had been right in the thick of things and she fully intended, once she was done with this wretched- ahem, fascinating- assignment, that she was going to start work on an updated history of Great Britain's vampires.

But first, she thought as she made her way down the front steps of the town home, I am going to go home to Ron, where I will come in out of the rain and take a hot bath and let him rub my feet. She'd been traveling for days at a time, nonstop for a year, with rare weeks, or even just weekends, at their shared flat and she missed him dearly. He insisted he was alright with things, that he was plenty busy as an auror, but she knew he missed her too, so she was truly looking forward to wrapping things up in this district of the East End.

"Oy!"

She stopped, startled, and turned around. The woman was beckoning to her. Cautiously, Hermione walked back up the steps.

"I'm sorry- did I misinterpret anything? I am still fairly new at this, please accept my apologies. It's late, for me."

The woman looked contrite about something, but at the same time Hermione thought she detected a hint of slyness about her features. Perhaps it was the tilt of the head, or the slant of the eyes.

"No, not exactly," she replied. "It's just that…well, I understand- we all do, really, that if even one of us doesn't cooperate with the new regulations that it could end up reflecting poorly on all of us, affecting all our rights. Even end up causing another conflict."

"That's right," Hermione said warily. "Why? Do you have something to report? If you do, you should contact the appropriate department. I'm really more of a census taker than anything else-"

"Oh, but that's all it's about," the woman said, flashing a fanged smile again. "There's a bloke living nearby and I think he's one of us, but I don't recognize him at all. My nest mates and I wondered if he wasn't new, or an immigrant, or something of that nature. Either way, he keeps to himself. Really private."

"Do you know his name?" Hermione asked, quickly scribbling down the new information. "Then I can double check-"

"No, that's partly why we thought maybe you ought to be aware," the woman murmured. "We just want to do the right thing, after all."

"Of course," Hermione responded, smiling in return, though this would mean extra work tonight and a delayed arrival home. "I understand. So, he's in this area, at least? Can you point out where you've seen him most often?"

"At the corner store, same as us all. Buying blood. But he goes more regularly than the rest of us."

"And why is that?" Hermione asked without thinking. The woman flashed her fangs again and Hermione shifted some, reminded that as long as it was consenting between adults and didn't result in death, live blood donation was legal. "Right, my apologies for asking," she finished. "I'll be on my way. And thank you again for pointing him out- he certainly wasn't on my list for this area. You were the last, in fact."

"Glad to be of service," the woman fairly purred, and Hermione stepped back firmly.

"Thank you. Good night."

"A pleasure," the woman returned and then the door was shut. Hermione turned around and walked down the stairs again, then glanced up the street to where she could see, a block ahead, the lights of a convenience store. It was raining a bit harder again and Hermione shivered and pulled the collar of her coat up after putting her clipboard into her satchel. Then she checked her watch. Past eight already and it felt like later. Her heating spell was definitely wearing off and no amount of shield charms could keep the rain from misting against her skin. She put up her umbrella and started down the street, her sensible pumps making clacking noises against the sidewalk as she splashed her way through the growing puddles.

Severus was just inspecting the selection of synthetic bloods and was about to open the refrigerated unit's door when he heard something. Then he looked a little closer at the reflection in the glass of the store behind him and saw something.

A head of bushy brown hair and the voice of a know-it-all he was certain he'd never have to see, or hear ever again. Although he knew, somewhere in the recesses of his once human mind, it was inevitable that one day he would run into someone he had known once upon a time.

He'd just never imagined for a second it would be her. But he supposed all the reports he'd been told were true and he should have been prepared for it. Bloody, snot-nosed, insufferable little witch, who just had to have her fingers in every pie. Who just had to know or find out everything. He'd been well aware she was one of those who'd been a driving force at the ministry to help integrate the vampires, to work with them to preserve the secrecy of their world- her world, now. Not his, ever again, not really. Though sometimes he wondered if he'd ever truly belonged to it even when he was alive.

Now, however, after all his plans, the careful motions of his benefactor and of himself, his cover was about to be broken. Desperate to avoid such a train wreck, he took a step over, behind a row of crisps, and continued to watch the reflection. He dared turn his head slightly and looked over at her directly, where she stood with her back to him as she spoke to the store clerk. Of course he heard every word she was saying. That silky, bossy tone grated on him, even though she had been one of his best students, and he felt suddenly transported back to every worthless Potions class he'd ever taught.

"I've been told there may be a man who comes here regularly to purchase blood from you," she was saying. "Is this true?"

"There's a nest of the creatures a block away, yeah," the clerk replied with a surly tone. Severus smiled thinly. His glamour would hold for now, it seemed, but eventually she would ask a question that tipped her off anyhow. Insufferable chit. He continued to eye the pair.

"This one isn't a member of the nest. You might not even realize he is a vampire," she went on. "Please, could you describe to me exactly who comes in to buy blood from you?"

Hell. There went his cover. He'd only glamoured the man to not recognize him for what he was, not to simply ignore his existence. But he supposed that was a natural mistake. He couldn't blame himself too much- he hadn't had the benefit of his maker guiding him during his early years, after all. He was, as a result, a terrible vampire, in his own opinion. In the opinion of others, in fact. But there was nothing he could do about that now. He listened again.

"Oh, aye," the man began, his brow furrowing. "Well, there's the group living nearby- a woman and two men, I suppose you call them…" He went on and described the trio in as much detail as he could recall, then went on to tell her about the visitors to the nest who'd been sent out to buy blood for them. And finally, when Severus could see Hermione growing annoyed at the man's reluctant loquaciousness, the man got around to describing himself. Severus decided now would be a good time to leave the store- perhaps come back at another time. Except he truly needed more blood, as he really was quite hungry.

And he could smell Hermione Granger, member of the ministry, the golden trio and Gryffindor war heroine from all the way behind the lamb and mint jelly crisps; and she was positively mouth watering, even if she was a little worn about the edges.

Besides, sure he could get around her- he moved faster than Potter after a snitch- but even if he left the shop she'd be monitoring it for the next several days, possible weeks. Until she got her man- er, vampire. He knew the way her mind worked and once she got an idea in her head she was tenacious. Not hard-headedly stubborn the way Potter was, just…dedicated. He frowned and as he debated once again what to do- disappear now or face discovery- she was pointed in his direction by a now helpful clerk. He spun around before she saw him and turned back to the refrigerated case, shoulders hunched, anger pulling his face tight.

This was it, he was caught, he would be hounded by the ministry the rest of his life and not have a peaceful moment to himself ever again. All he wanted to do was continue his potions work and try to make something of his miserable existence and instead-

"Excuse me," Hermione said and he was surprised to hear a note of weariness in her tone. As if she wanted this distasteful interview less than he did. "But may I ask you a few questions? You see, I was told there was a report of an unknown vampire living in this district and-"

She broke off as Snape turned to her, her jaw dropping, quill stopped in mid-scrawl across the clipboard balanced on one unsteady arm. He raised one disinterested, perfectly sculpted black brow at her while her wide eyes took in his familiar, yet strange features. Perfectly pale skin, same hooked nose, but that no longer seemed to dominate his face the way it used to. Perhaps because his shiny black locks were pulled back in a low ponytail now- no longer greasy, merely silken. A few shorter strands floated about his high forehead and his eyes- unchanged and still quite dark and hollow- stared right back at her.

He wasn't breathtakingly beautiful, by any means. Not like the king of the area whom she'd met three months ago. But perhaps because she recognized him, saw in him the brave, yet stringent man who'd once lorded over her for every year but one of her Hogwarts career; she found herself with no breath left to ask any questions. Or maybe it was because she'd seen him die with her own eyes. Or perhaps it was because he'd begun to glamour her.

Either way, she was utterly unable to move or speak.

The clerk interrupted them.

"That him?" the man called and Severus snapped his eyes up to him, an annoyed glare skittering across his hardened features. Hermione took the opportunity to blink and shake her head.

"I- yes?" she called back, before Severus could catch her eye again. She only darted quick looks at him and stared hard at her clipboard. Her heart was racing with her new discovery and she knew he must be able to hear it- the bloody creatures could hear everything. Hell, what did she do? What could she do?

The clerk seemed satisfied and Severus wondered if he should go ahead and run for it anyhow. But no, that would only raise more questions, possibly cause trouble for his benefactor. And that was the last thing he wanted for that poor man, not after all the trouble he'd already given him. He settled for glaring down at Hermione.

He really was a terrible vampire.

"Come to make my life even more miserable, Miss Granger?" he demanded and she flushed. Her increased heart rate only magnified the smell of her and he was careful not to breathe.

"Professor Snape," she finally managed to stammer bravely. "I never- I saw you…oh my god."

"There is no god, Miss Granger," he replied coolly. "Otherwise I would truly be dead. Instead, I am as you see. And I'm no longer your professor."

"What should I call you then?" she questioned quickly, darting her eyes about them as she realized the incongruity of the situation, how it all might be misconstrued and go terribly awry. She'd thought she'd just be uncovering a new vamp, after all- not the long supposed dead potions professor and double agent. Damn it all.

"Snape will do," he responded and caught her frantic glances around. "Wondering where your partner is?" he asked and was surprised when she shook her head.

"He was sick at the last minute, but I was desperate to finish up tonight. Oh, god," she murmured again. "How did you- why are you-"

"This is not the place to talk," Severus replied stiffly. "Not," he added, "that I want to speak to you at all. We've gone to great lengths to maintain my privacy. My total privacy."

"I imagine so," she said. "But still…"

"If you'll permit me, Miss Granger, I was here to buy blood."

"Oh, of course-" She was so startled by it all that she mutely stepped aside and let him pick out his selection, then followed him quietly up to the register, scribbling madly on her clipboard the entire time. So, she was shocked, but not so done in that her brain wasn't still firing a mile a minute. Typical. He snorted at her intellectual flakiness and paid for his blood, giving the clerk a sneer and another glamour for good measure.

Hell, he really would have to talk to this chit about things now- unless he wanted to risk the wrong side of the aurors by glamouring her and destroying ministry paperwork. He berated himself inwardly. It was as if, since becoming a vampire, he'd gotten less mercenary and not more so. He truly was the worst vampire in the world. It made him wonder idly if it really was possible for vampires to be cursed with souls, and perhaps that's what his love for Lily Evans had done for him for all those years. Bloody hell. Or, maybe he was just hungry and so he wasn't thinking clearly. Either way, she'd have to come back to his flat with him-

It all happened so quickly, his thoughts interrupted by a gunshot and a shriek of surprise from beside him. The clerk hid behind the counter; but Hermione was still so shocked by her run in with her once-professor; and so absorbed in taking copious notes that she didn't have time to pull her wand before the would-be thief had fired at her; because she'd unwittingly ignored his demand that she drop her items and hit the ground. The bullet ripped through her side; and Snape thrust her out of the way before he launched himself at the robber, taking a bullet in the chest, himself; even as he tackled the other man to the ground, wrenching the gun from his hand and throwing it through the nearest wall. Then he viciously banged the man's head against the ground twice, knocking him out cold.

And all that before the clerk hit the alarm and the siren sounded. Severus lifted his head and fought back panic, realizing what the alarm meant. His eyes flew to Hermione's gasping, twisted figure, a pool of blood forming under her, then to the eyes of the clerk, who was just peeking over the top of the counter. Snape proceeded to make one of the best- or worst- decisions of his life. He was up from the thief in an instant and over to Hermione, whom he picked up effortlessly in one arm, curling his hand around her side to staunch the blood flow. She cried out in pain once and then appeared to pass out. He glared over the counter at the clerk, swiping a hand across the surface and sending the bottles there crashing to the floor and breaking, their synthetic blend mingling with Hermione's blood. Looking over, he saw the smoking remains of the security tape that the thief had destroyed with a stray bullet- one less worry there. Then his eyes took in the cricket bat in the clerk's hand and his eyes flicked back to his face, drawing him in and turning on his glamour without preamble.

"This thief came in and brought blood to the counter, presumably to purchase it. He was sent by the nest that lives nearby. That is when he pulled the gun. You hit him across his middle with the baseball bat and he stumbled back and hit his head on the floor. Your bat knocked the bottles to the floor. You never saw myself or this woman. We were never here. You understand?"

The clerk looked at him blankly and blandly repeated his words and only then did Severus feel some of his panic abate. In the next second, as the police came and opened the door, he was darting around the aisles to avoid them and then flying past them with Hermione in his arms, so quick they'd never know he'd been there. Not him and not the bleeding woman in his arms. The synthetic blood would have contaminated the sample left from her wound anyway.

He was safe…as long as she lived and he could convince her never to speak of their encounter. Looking down at her face as he skirted around buildings and finally into a gate and down the stairs into his basement flat, he saw she was pale as he was. That was no good- not when she was normally flushed or even tan. And Merlin, he could smell her blood…it was all over his own jacket, now.

He shoved into his flat and deposited her still form onto the small bar separating his kitchen and living space. It was the cleanest surface he could think of, and the closest. He tore her coat away from her without hesitation and her skirt and shirt followed. Her body didn't interest him in the slightest, except that it was losing a lot of blood through that wound and she was in no condition to heal herself. He lifted her wand and gave it an experimental flick. It didn't respond. Tossing it aside, he grabbed some dishtowels and packed them against the wound, pressing as hard as he dared, then shrugged from his bloodied coat. Her smell…it was all around him now.

He blinked against his own hunger and realized, as he watched her breathing grow more shallow, that his options- and hers- were running out. Especially if he wanted to avoid accidentally turning her. So, he brought the inside of his wrist to his teeth, broke the skin, and then shoved it against her open mouth. As some of his blood sluggishly trickled in against her tongue, he saw her throat move and she involuntarily swallowed the potent liquid. Her breathing and color improved almost immediately, though he knew she'd need real magic to get her out of the woods. Wrapping her shirt around her waist to hold the dish towels in place, he finally stumbled back from her and rested against his refrigerator a minute before opening it and searching for that last bottle.

Which was when he noticed his hands were covered in her blood.

He dared one lick of a reddened finger and closed his eyes against the pleasure, unable to help sucking the rest of his spindly digits clean. Then he quickly reached for the bottle and popped the cap off, downing it in one long swallow before he could fly back to her side and clean her wound for her.

He would not be that disgustingly depraved of a creature. Would. Not.

Resting his head against the closed door of the fridge once again, he gave himself another minute, then turned to his phone and dialed the only number he ever used.

A concerned voice met his ear and his eyes strayed to Hermione again, where she lay on his kitchen counter, barely living.

"There's been trouble," he said shortly. "You'd better come quickly, and bring blood, for the love of Merlin."

There was an answering squawk and then he hung up and forced himself to leave the kitchen in search of any potions that might help the insufferable woman. Damned Gryffindors. Even from the other side of the grave they caused him no end of trouble.

AN: I've had this tidbit of a first chapter floating about for a while and since I've just gotten some bad news and am in general a reactionary, I decided to post it and a few other things and see what everyone thinks. At least it's out there now! Help me figure out which of these tidbits to pursue! :)