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George Washington had a secret. He was a vampire. He longed for the taste of metallic taste of warm blood. The sight of a neck made his eyes twitch with longing. It was becoming increasingly hard to keep his cover secret, ever since he supposedly died 218 years ago.
Oh, also, he was madly in love with Albus Dumbledore.
Yes, the Albus Dumbledore from the famous Harry Potter series. After becoming a huge fan of the books, he travelled far and wide with his companion, Thomas Jefferson, to find some magical pills given to him by a fae. After a simple incantation, Albus Dumbledore was resurrected from his fictional death and brought into the real world, where him and George Washington live happily together in the White House basement.
“Hello, honey,” George Washington greeted from the sitting room. He was seated on the red velvet couch, sipping contently from a cup of tea.
“Hey, Georgie,” Albus replied. “Your powdered wig is looking extra spectacular today.”
“As is your beard.”
The couple sat next to each other while their butler, Alexander Hamilton, hand-fed them Ramen Noodles.
“Are they any good?” Alexander asked them, straightening his posture.
“Delicious!-oh,” Albus stood up abruptly, bonking Hamilton in the head. He fell over into the coffee table, breaking it in half. He stared down at his groaning butler, tutting his teeth, “do you mind getting some maple syrup?”
“O-of course, Mr. Dumbledore,” Hamilton scurried to his feet, accidentally hitting his forehead while attempting a salute. He dashed out of the door and up the stairs. His footsteps echoed up the hallway.
George took that time to lay his head into the crook of Dumbledore’s neck. He found comfort in the steady pulse of his heartbeat, transporting blood to his entire body.
Thump thump, thump thump.
He felt his mouth water. He caught himself quickly, swallowing his saliva before things got out of hand.
Thump thump, thump thump.
George felt the longing return. He didn’t understand. Usually, he could ignore the urge to feed, but not this time.
Thump thump, thump thump.
It was rapidly becoming unbearable. The desire for blood itched under his skin like thousands of bees stinging under his skin.
Thump thump, thump thump.
“Are you alright?” Albus asked, turning his head. “You’re squirming.”
His neck was exposed, at the perfect angle to take a bite-
“No!” George launched from the couch, running from the room and into the nearest closet.
Albus chased after him, only to receive a door slammed in his face.
“Please, tell me what’s wrong!” he pleaded, getting no response.
“I-I can’t! I have, have something t-to tell you!”
“George, open the door, please. Whatever it is, we can get through it. I love you.”
George Washington slowly opened the door, only enough to reveal part of his face. He pressed his finger to the corner of his mouth, lifting his lips to show his gradually growing fangs.
Albus’s gray eyes widened under his half-moon glasses, but only for a moment.
He laughed heartily, “George, I’m a wizard! Do you really think I would leave you for something as silly as being a bloodthirsty killer?”
George Washington blushed, playing with the strands of his powdered wig, “I guess not…”
“Exactly. Now, Hamilton is expected to be back with the syrup any moment now. Let’s go back to our breakfast.”
As if on cue, Alexander stumbled down the stairs, looking frazzled and holding a bottle of syrup.
The two interlocked their veiny hands, stepped over the broken remains of the coffee table, and sat back down on the couch. Washington still struggled to keep his inhumane urges under control.
“Here you go, sirs,” Hamilton held the bottle out politely.
Washington grabbed it so quickly he nearly sent Hamilton flying again. The cap opened with a satisfying pop as he opened it with shaking hands.
Everyone in the room watched in horror as he drizzled it onto Dumbledore’s bearded neck.
“Stop!” he pleaded, desperately trying to shield himself from the miniature sugary waterfall. “George! What are you doing?”
Washington didn’t reply. Instead, he bent down and in one swift motion bit straight (ha) into Dumbledore’s artery.
The old wizard cried out in pain, struggling weakly. Alas, it was no use. He fell back limply onto the couch. George Washington stood up and turned to face Hamilton, who was still frozen in fear.
He slowly wiped the mixture of blood and maple syrup from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Hamilton quivered in anticipation.
“You’re next,” Washington snarled and bared his fangs. He raised his fist and aimed right for his face.
Alexander Hamilton yelped. He ducked just in time, Washington’s fist just grazing over the tip of his hair. He somersaulted heroically, snatching the leg of the broken coffee table and holding it defensively in his arms.
He stood up to match Washington’s height, “Don’t move.” They stared into each other’s eyes menacingly.
The world paused for a second. The air was thick and silent besides the sound of the two panting. The scene suddenly started again as soon as it had stopped, with Washington lunging at Hamilton. Hamilton felt himself hit against the wall. Stars floated in front of his vision and the air was knocked from his lungs. When he desperately tried to draw a breath, he found that Washington’s hand was closed tightly around his windpipe.
“Please...let me…go…,” Hamilton strained.
George Washington pulled the corners of his mouth into a thin-lipped smile. He opened his mouth, showing off his fangs. Hamilton could still smell the mix of syrup and blood on his breath.
He opened his mouth to plead again, but no words left him as he felt Washington’s sharp fangs pierce the artery in his neck.
Hamilton let out a short gasp of breath, falling limply not long after. George backed away and wiped his mouth. His powdered wig was disheveled and hanging in his eyes.
As if suddenly realizing what he’d done, George dropped to his knees in despair.
“Oh! Lord strike me dead where I kneel!” he wailed in despair. “I’ve murdered the only one I love!”
He was so engulfed in his own sorrows, he didn’t notice Hamilton picking up a wooden shard of the previously broken table and stabbing it directly through Washington’s heart.
Washington keeled over and lay dead, only a few feet away from his lover. And there they stayed, forever.
(Or until Hamilton had to get rid of the evidence.)