I do not own a single one of these characters. If I did, Snape would be locked in my basement. Heeheehee...

Snape/Harry

This will be a novel-length fic. (Yay excitement!)

Anger. Hatred. Betrayal. The feelings tore through him like a wild animal, rending and tearing, biting and clawing until he felt as if, for a moment, he was a shadow of who he once was. He imagined the shattered remains of his hate filled heart flying through the starless night, floating up to meet the green light of the Dark Mark that still hovered over the tower.

Harry lay panting on the ground, gazing up at the man he despised, the man who was the boy he had trusted, the boy he had relied on, even looked up to.

He staggered to his feet and raised his wand again. He wanted to see Snape writhe in pain on the ground, twitching and shrieking…”Cru-”

But that moment never came. Snape lunged at Harry, his eyes feral and burning brands into his soul. He thrashed as the other man grabbed both of his arms and dragged him closer, closer still…

And now Harry’s body was flush against Snape’s, those slender yet steely arms holding him in place as he was struggling…he was a fly caught in a spider’s web. He felt himself being lifted up, and suddenly he was being cradled in Snape’s arms, crushed up against his hard chest as the other man’s heart thumped loudly in his ears. Then Snape started to run farther into the forest, surprisingly swift for someone who was carrying such a burden.

Harry panicked. His blood was churning underneath the surface, hot ocean waves of red pounding through his veins relentlessly. His own heart felt like a woodpecker, trying to stab its way out of his chest.

He was being abducted.

Harry screamed, willing for someone, anyone, to hear him. Snape was going to take him to Voldemort, he knew it…

A surge of fear and fury, of pure adrenaline shot through Harry. He started to struggle again, craning his neck to bite through the layers of clothes on Snape’s arm. He heard Snape snarl breathlessly, then there was a crack, and the forest was gone, replaced with a line of dingy houses. Dim yellow light streamed from the lamp post Snape stood by, and Harry took in a shuddering breath only to choke on the stench coming from the nearby river. He buried his head closer to Snape’s chest and inhaled another shallow, shaking breath, not wanting to breathe in the fetid air. Snape smelled surprisingly pleasant, so warm and clean. For a brief moment, Harry forgot his hatred, his anger, all the horror...

He shivered from the cold and curled closer, and his world was nothing but the scent of lemongrass and spice, and intoxicating heat radiating off of a hard, lean body.

Then Snape surged forward, Harry still clutched tightly to his chest, and everything came rushing back like tide. Oh god, this man, this murderous traitor-

Snape’s betrayal hit him in the stomach.

The Half-blood Prince, the boy who helped him so much, the prodigy…Harry started to struggle once more, but Snape’s grip only tightened. The man was strong, and try as he might, Harry couldn’t free himself. Suddenly Snape stopped, and Harry heard him whisper something. A door creaked open and Snape stepped inside a small house, but Harry couldn’t see much of it in the surrounding darkness.

Another spell, softly spoken, and the door slammed shut as Harry was deposited on the floor. He looked up at Snape, who regarded him with an amused expression upon his pallid face. Before Harry could reach into his pocket to retrieve his wand, Snape flicked his own wand at Harry wordlessly, and Harry found himself floating up the narrow staircase, down a hallway, and into another room, where he was dropped unexpectedly. Harry cried out in shock as he fell, yet he landed not on the floor, but on a mattress, albeit not the softest one. Harry turned around to face Snape, who was staring at him, his face unreadable.

Harry was instantly consumed with anger and he spat, his saliva hitting the side of Snape’s face and sliding down, leaving a shining, wet path like a snail’s trail as it dripped off the man’s cheek.

Snape’s black eyes flashed dangerously and he waved his wand at Harry again. Instantly, Harry felt his body stiffen completely, as if he were a wooden board: Petrificus Totalus. As he lay immobile on the bed, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Snape grab something from inside a drawer. There was a clanking, rattling sound as Snape approached him, fastening whatever the thing was around Harry’s neck and lifting the spell. Harry raised his hands to his neck. It was a collar. He whipped his head around to see his former professor attach the long chain that was connected to the collar to a bed post. Harry let out a strangled cry as fear flooded him, and he tugged at the metal links franticly. He glanced up as Snape stepped back and observed him thoughtfully as Harry struggled against the relentless chain. Harry stared up at him, trying to convey as much hatred in his gaze as possible, but as he looked into Snape’s eyes, something in them made him freeze. The black orbs glinted like the sea at midnight, reflecting the moon and stars. Harry was falling, falling into them…he was trapped in a dark ocean, surrounded by the obsidian depths, oh, he was being suffocated by them, but he couldn’t will himself to break his gaze…

“Cease,” Snape ordered, and his voice was smooth and dark like melted chocolate. Harry immediately dropped his hands and sat on the bed obediently, while his mind screamed in defiance.

“Why?” Harry felt the anger rushing back like a tsunami. “Tell me why you did it, then. Why me? And why Dumbledore?” He was yelling now, his voice cracking slightly. “Tell me why…Snivellus.”

Instantly Harry regretted uttering that word, but it was too late.

Snape hissed, and before Harry could anticipate the man’s intentions, he was roughly grabbed and shoved off the bed. Harry scrambled to his feet as fast as he could. Snape stood in front of him, so close that their bodies were mere inches apart. Harry’s heart thundered in his ears as he looked up at the taller man.

Snape leaned in towards him, his greasy hair brushing up against Harry’s cheek as he whispered in his ear, warm breath caressing Harry’s flushed skin as he unfastened the collar around Harry’s neck and let it drop to the ground.

“Hmph. Foolish boy.”

Snape stepped back, opened his mouth wide, and bared his yellowed teeth. Harry stared in horror as he watched a pair of long, sharp fangs retract. Oh god…

Snape closed his mouth with a sneer.

Despite his anger, Harry could feel himself trembling slightly. He fervently hoped that Snape wouldn’t notice. Snape, however, smirked and licked his lips slowly, almost obscenely, staring at Harry with such unconcealed hunger it was as if he planned to devour him alive.

“You know, Potter,” Snape murmured, that velveteen midnight voice snaking through Harry and causing more tremors to run amok through his body, “I’ve always wondered if Gryffindors tasted as appetizing as they looked.”

And suddenly Harry found himself being pulled closer to the vampire until there was no space between them. Snape’s scent filled him once again, the warm, lemony smell of his skin, the rich and layered musk intoxicating him as if it were an aphrodisiac itself.

Then he remembered what was happening, that he was prey, Snape’s prey, and was about to become the man’s next meal. Harry thrashed wildly as Snape’s wiry arms encased him, and he cried out in terror but no one could save him…he started to struggle again, but his body was so close to Snape’s that he only succeeded in rubbing up against him. Please, god, no…if he had to die, he didn’t want it to be like this…it wasn’t supposed to end this way…

“Please.” To Harry’s own disgust, the words came out as a plea. He was begging.

Gryffindors didn’t beg.

“Please…please, professor, no…”

Lips as soft as rose petals parted on the flesh of Harry’s neck, followed by the feeling of something very sharp pressing into him. Harry was paralyzed with fear. He didn’t have anymore strength left to fight Snape off. He could only stand and pray silently that his death would be swift. As the blood flowed out of him and into Snape, he began to feel light headed. He felt his knees buckle, then his body was pushed back on the bed with Snape settling on top of him, the man’s fangs still buried in Harry’s throat.

Finally, Snape withdrew, and grabbed his wand from the bedside table. He whispered a spell and suddenly the wounds on Harry’s neck closed up.

Snape bent over Harry again, licking every trace of blood from his throat.

“Mmmmm. Delicious,” Snape breathed, and lifted himself up. He picked up the collar from the floor and refastened it around Harry’s neck before he stepped out of the room, closing the door shut behind him.

Hazily, Harry stared up at the ceiling, grateful that Snape had spared him. The loss of blood had rendered him exhausted, and his eyes became heavy lidded as sleep overtook him. He floated away, caught up in visions of deadly green flashes and Dark Marks, while fiery anger scorched his soul.