Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters, situations, events, quotes, etc., etc. All belongs to J. K. Rowling. And Warner Bros., I suppose, mooching off J.K.'s brainchild.
WARNINGS: Scary-ness. Slash-ness. Violence-ness. Dead guys and vampires and werewolves, oh my! My scary side runs amok! Rated just for the ideas and content.
Notes: Originally written as a Metallica fic. After ff.net stopped archiving Metallica fiction, this was lost. Fortunately, I dug up the printed-out version. A few choice quotes from PoA and OOTP spawned an idea. Very weird, though, but please be kind and review! Flames dedicated to my favourite warriors of fire - Sailor Mars, Tasuki, and Hikaru!
Harry had never met a vampire, but he had seen pictures of them in his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked just like one.
- Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban', page 36 (American edition)
Now he is awake. Yesterday seems so far away, distant and hazy. He can't remember much of it at all. Just a lot of screaming, Bellatrix and Harry and Remus and the others, just screaming. Spreading pain in his chest from whatever spell Bellatrix had used on him, and the soft feel of a wisp of cloth drawn across his cheek. Then, for awhile, nothing. And now - a beautiful feeling of awakening, of being more aware of the world around him than he ever had. And this aching, longing feeling. A hunger.
He climbs the front steps and wrinkles his nose in distaste, as he always has at the sight of this door, this house. He hated living here as a child; hated being imprisoned here by Dumbledore; hates to be coming back. But tonight's the last night he'll ever need to spend there.
He is hungry, so hungry, for the two insatiable passions of his life.
No one knows he's there; no one can see him. The street is totally dark, thanks to a little of his own magic. Wouldn't want the Muggles spying anything unusual. He relishes the darkness, enjoying it. The night is almost sensual; it seems to caress him as gently as a lover's touch.
Remus J. Lupin yawns and sets aside his book. As he takes off his reading glasses, his eyes are red and bloodshot. He's barely stopped crying since yesterday, ever since that horrible trip to the Department of Mysteries.
He turns off the lights, pulling the sheet up over his naked body. How could it have happened? Why couldn't he have stopped it? Tears begin gathering in the corners of his eyes. He whimpers, trying to force the face of his lover and best friend from his mind. He has to sleep... needs to sleep... Agony and longing tears at his heart as he remembers the single sinister sweep of the veil, remembers Harry's heartbreaking screams as the teenager watched his godfather being sent to his doom.
I need him.... Harry needs him... we can't live without him! Remus whispers to himself, wiping his eyes with the back of a hand. Oh, God.... we need him.... Finally he closes his eyes and falls asleep - a deep sleep plagued by restless dreams of the one he loves.
He pushes the door open with one slender, fine-boned hand. A gust of wind follows him into the house, blowing his long ebony hair around his face, making his ragged robes swirl around his ankles. Silently, he closes the door and peers up the dark stairwell. The only light in the house is a nightlight at the top of the stairs. He stands still, listening. His hearing is much sharper now than it used to be, as are his other senses. He can hear his lover upstairs, breathing softly in sleep.
He climbs the stairs, careful to skip the one that creaks. The dim light at the top of the stairs blinds him, making him feel weak and nauseous. With a soft hiss, he covers his eyes with his hand, and taps the magical light sharply with his wand. Much better. The hallway is deprived of its pale light, but he can see just fine. He smiles to himself and goes to his lover's door.
The door opens slowly, because he's being careful not to let the hinges creak. Peeking around the edge of the door, he sees his lover asleep in bed. He runs his gaze down Remus' body, very aware of the arousal the other man causes in him.
It's time to satisfy his hunger. He undresses and gets into bed, leaning down to kiss his lover's neck, gently stroking the slender body, running his long fingers through the soft honey-coloured, silver-flecked hair. His lover moans softly, still mostly asleep.
Remus begins to wake up as he feels Sirius' touch, those talented fingers moving to more sensitive areas. Sirius is kissing his neck, giving it an occasional nip, and Remus sighs, trembling with mixed arousal and fear. He can feel Sirius' hardened lust pressing insistently against his thigh, demanding entrance, and moans softly in acknowledgement, spreading his legs to receive his lover.
The next few minutes are pure ecstasy, the two men crying out in their passion. Remus cries out even louder as his orgasm rushes through his body, powerful and sweet, while Sirius ducks his head to kiss Remus' neck.
As Remus tilts his head back, Sirius sees his chance. He opens his mouth and sinks his fangs into the jugular. Hot, salty blood fills his mouth, satisfying his other hunger. He drinks, savoring the coppery taste and the sweet, somehow erotic feeling of the blood flowing down his throat. Remus' frenzied, passionate movements cease; his cries die on his lips.
Satisfied for now, Sirius takes his mouth away from Remus' neck. He eases out of his lover and lays beside the body, wiping his mouth clean on the sheets. He smiles lovingly and brushes Remus' hair out of his eyes before curling up to sleep.
He wakes up, rested and ready. But first....
He shakes his lover, and Remus opens his eyes. Sirius kisses him, slipping his tongue between Remus' lips. He runs his tongue over Remus' teeth and is pleased to feel the sharp points of the other man's fangs. After they break the kiss, Remus moans softly and moves closer to Sirius, encouraging him. The pair join once more, their sex the beginning of a newer, darker relationship for them.
Harry Potter opens his eyes and mumbles unhappily, sitting up and fumbling for his glasses as he wipes his face with a corner of the sheets. He'd been dreaming about Sirius again. He has a feeling his nightmares are going to become a lot worse this summer.
He opens the curtains around his bed and gets up to get a drink of water. He's just about to get back into bed when sudden movement in the corner startles him. He whirls around, fumbling for his wand, but before he can reach it, a familiar voice speaks.
It's okay, Harry. It's just me.
Harry goes limp as he recognizes Remus Lupin's voice, sinking down onto his bed. S-sorry, Professor.... you scared me... hey, what are you doing here so late at night?
Remus steps into the pale sliver of moonlight coming through the window. It's probably a trick of the light, but Harry could swear Lupin looks much healthier than he has ever seen him. Lupin smiles at him, and Harry notices the odd prominence of the man's canine teeth. Suddenly, Harry starts to feel very uneasy.
P- Professor... what's going on?
Nothing.. nothing... there's just someone you need to see.
He beckons to someone still hiding in the shadows. Harry's heart leaps to his throat as the figure steps up beside Lupin. It is Sirius, still wearing the raggedy grey robes he had been wearing on that day in the Department of Mysteries. Harry's eyes fill with tears. Is he dreaming? He pinches himself, hard. It hurts, ruling out the possibility of a dream.
Sirius... I ... you....
Sirius smiles and brushes his long hair out of his eyes. He holds his arms out to Harry, who scrambles off the bed and into his godfather's arms without hesitation.
Sirius! I knew.. I knew you weren't dead... I knew you'd .... I knew you'd never leave me for good... I... was so scared.... Harry clings tightly to his godfather, tears running down his cheeks.
I never will, Sirius murmurs softly. You and I and Remus will be together forever.
And the world fades into sweet darkness as Sirius plunges his fangs into Harry's neck.
(A/N: Wow. Dark. And somewhat erotic in some places. Geez, what's happened to me? This is one of those once-in-a-blue-moon stories, for me. I'm going to blame the SuperBowl (AKA StuporBowl, AKA SuperBald). I hate it so much, when everyone else was watching it I was in front of my computer writing this. Okay, I promise! No more semi-graphic sex, no more dark, evil, twisted plots! And nothing else written in the present tense. I got so confuzzled trying to write in the present tense, and kept switching over to past tense without realizing it. D'oh!)