By: Avery Likelytale
Author's Notes: Hey! First of all, thanks for your reviews. They make me happy. SEND MORE! (please). And now I begin on Chapter 2…for some reason, this story is incredibly fun to write. Even funner than LLL, which worries me. I REFUSE TO BE SUCKED UNDER BY THE HARRY POTTER CURRENT:flails, thrashes, dies:
Anyhoo, here's the chapter of the day.
Warnings: Snarry slash, possible OOCness—apologies for this! D: I dunno what else…possible bloodiness? Idiocy? Me making up my own convoluted rules for vampires?
Disclaimer: Huh. I don't own Harry Potter.
Snape's mouth struggled to work out some words that would explain the whole situation, but he found none. How in the world could he possibly explain the fact that he'd sucked the blood out of a random Muggle to that gawking, black-haired idiot with a goldfish expression plastered across his face?
But the initial shock was wearing off, and Snape was becoming the master of his own self again—while Potter still looked uncomprehending. Running a hand through his long black hair, Snape flicked an ice-cool glance at the teenager, and said, "Well, well, Mister Potter. What are we doing here, hmm?"
Potter seemed to shake himself out of a daze, and said three simple words.
"You're a vampire."
"Potter. I asked you a question," Snape said irately, as if this was merely another classroom situation in which Potter had gotten into a spot of trouble and Snape was telling him off. "When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer."
"You're a vampire!" Potter screamed, and whipped out his wand. He performed no spell, but merely held the wand at the ready, his arms shaking violently. "Who knows? Does Dumbledore know? You're a crazy bloodsucker!"
"Potter!" Snape practically screamed. "Tell me how you got here!"
Potter let out a wild yell and turned heel, running back down the passageway, screaming wildly and hoarsely. Snape caught the words "Snape", and "vampire", in Potter's screaming chorus. Cursing out loud, Snape dashed down after Potter, then sent out an Impediment Curse, knocking Potter onto his face. Potter roared and clawed at the muddy ground, still screaming about Snape's vampirehood.
"Potter! Shut up!" Snape snarled, running over to Potter's side. The black-haired teen glared up at Snape, his eyes furious.
"You—you—" Potter spat, his wand arm shaking as he began lifting his arm.
Snape brought his foot down on Potter's wrist, and the boy swore loudly, his fingers reflexively jerking and releasing his wand. In a chilly voice, Snape said, "Now, Potter, let us go…peacefully…back to my quarters, and have a discussion about how exactly you came here. All right?"
Potter snarled slightly as Snape pressed his foot down harder, and then, grudgingly, said, "Fine. –sir."
Snape leaned down and picked up Potter's wand before painstakingly removing his shoe from the boy's arm. Said boy jerked up instantly, pressing himself against the crude wall and glaring at Snape. But from his expression, Snape could tell that Potter knew he had no choice but to obey—Snape was the one with the wands, after all.
They trudged back up the corridor to Snape's room, while Snape seethed inside. He always left the passageway to Hogsmeade open—otherwise, he wouldn't be able to return, as the portals were one-way only. But this had never troubled him, as he locked the door to his room with complex and powerful spells.
So how had Potter managed to sneak in?
Snape emerged from the gaping door, Potter trudging afterwards. When they were both inside, Snape tapped the statue once more, and the mouth sealed itself up. Then he turned around, heading toward the heavy ebony desk against his wall—and stopped.
His door was shut—but obviously unlocked.
Straining to control his anger, Snape headed to the desk and seated himself. Potter trailed afterwards, reminding Snape of an overlarge duckling. He grinded his teeth in annoyance.
"May I sit?" Potter said. "Sir?"
"No, you may not," Snape said coldly. With his back turned to Potter and his gaze fixed on his polished desktop, he said, "Now, then, tell me how you managed to sneak into my personal room. I do recall locking my door with spells that you, at your level, would certainly not know how to untangle."
"I don't know about any of that, sir," Potter said stiffly. "I was looking for you because I had a detention with you tonight, and you weren't in your office. I thought you might be in your room, so I asked around and found it. When I came here, the door was unlocked—and that statue over there"—he pointed—"was open. So I went down there, and…" He let his voice trail off.
"I would think that you would do anything possible to avoid going to detention with me. I would expect you to go to my office, see that I am not present, and run off merrily on your little way with your friends. Am I correct?" Snape said.
Snape could hear Potter shuffling uncomfortably behind him. When Potter spoke, his voice was a mumble, "H-Hermione made me, sir."
Somehow Snape was not convinced—but he let it slide. There were more pressing issues to deal with. His door had been unlocked when Potter came? He couldn't imagine how that could happen. Unless…
Unless he had forgotten to lock his own door? It was logical—caught in a fit of hunger, Snape could make enormous mental blunders. When the only thing on your mind was blood and feeding, then possibly, it could have totally slipped from his mind to do something as simple as protecting his privacy.
How many other times had he left his door unlocked? –and how many more times would he do so in the future?
He slowly rose and headed toward his closed door, and with a muttered spell, sealed the door back up again. Now certain that he was safe from further intruders, he turned back around to face Potter.
"Why'd you…why'd you kill Dudley?" Potter said quietly.
"What?" Snape said, surprised by the sudden question. "Who?"
"My cousin. Why'd you pick him?"
"It's not like I knew he was your cousin," Snape said, "but I must feed, Potter. Why? Are you upset?" He said the last word with a sarcastic sneer.
"No," Potter said, "—just…surprised." Then his voice grew angry. "Who else knows what you are? How long have you been one? What about Dumbledore? Does he know? What about—"
Snape cut Potter off with a calm but slicing voice. "Potter, I simply cannot deal with so many questions being asked at once. Perhaps, if you could ask one at a time—"
But Snape was interrupted in turn as Potter, with a furious yell, dove toward Snape. Snape, caught off guard, was slammed into his desk as Potter managed to clip him on the chin with a fist—but then Snape's senses recovered and he easily clamped his hand to Potter's neck and tossed the boy aside. Within seconds, Potter lay spreadeagled on his stomach on the floor, Snape's foot over his neck, and Snape's wand pointed straight at the top of Potter's head.
"Stop your mad rushes, Potter. I'm starting to become…infuriated," Snape said, with a trace of soft anger to his voice. "Now, let's think about this situation rationally."
Potter managed, with great effort, to lift his head slightly from the floor, his eyes peering over the top of his crushed glasses. "I hate you," he hissed, all attempts of politeness gone. "I hate you."
"You'll be pleased to know that the feeling is mutual." Snape tilted his foot downwards, pressing harder against Potter's neck, and Potter let out a low growl. "However, as things are, I fear I won't be able to allow you to leave this room."
"What?" Potter spluttered.
"I said, you cannot be allowed to leave this room. –Ever. You are one of two people who know my secret—and the other person is myself. You can't leave."
"You can't trap me here for the rest of my life!" Potter cried, thrashing wildly for escape. Snape's other foot hit Potter in the side, and Potter let out a cry of pain.
"The alternative is to kill you," Snape said. "Is that preferable?"
Potter glowered at Snape, his eyes bright with anger, but remained silent. With deliberate slowness, Snape lifted his foot from Potter's neck, so that the boy was free to move. Potter sat up and rubbed the back of his neck, and remained glaring at Snape, though he made no move to escape—obviously, Snape noted, even Potter wasn't stupid enough to know that without a wand, he had no hope of overpowering a vampire.
"I prefer to die," Potter said finally.
Snape, suddenly and unexpectedly, burst into a fit of cruel laughter. He threw back his head and laughed for several minutes, while Potter's glare melted into an expression of disturbed confusion.
Finally Snape managed to regain his composure, although he was still wearing a sneering smile. "My apologies, Potter, but your attempts to be noble and gallant are quite…ridiculous."
With a wave of his wand, Snape bound Potter up with invisible magical cords, including cords covering Potter's mouth, so Potter's yell died into an indignant muffled growl.
While Potter remained bound up at the bottom of the bed, Snape turned around, reflecting. The thought of his hunger-induced irrationality was bothering him—if he made more slips of mind, the situation that happened with Potter might repeat himself, and he would end up with dozens of little Hogwarts brats trapped in his room—or dead. And there was only so long that Snape could go on like this without his secret being discovered.
What he needed was someone else—an assistant—someone who could help him. It was humiliating to think that he, Severus Snape, would need help, but he knew that in his fits of hunger, when his blood was crying out for nourishment, he was no longer Severus Snape. He was an animalistic monster, a demon of blood, no longer a rational human being. In that state, he would need someone who still could think perfectly clearly who would lock his door for him. Someone intelligent, someone trustworthy, someone who already knew his secret…
His eyes flicked to Potter. Potter was hardly intelligent—he was thicker than whale blubber—and he was certainly not trustworthy—though with the proper magic, he could be forced into loyalty—but he definitely knew Snape's secret. He was the only other one…
"Potter," he said at long last, turning around to face the Gryffindor boy again, "you realize that I hate you above all else in this world, and that nothing anyone says or does can change that."
Potter, robbed of the ability to speak properly, fiercely nodded his head, as if trying to say, "The same goes for you!"
"But a great lord needs his servants…" Snape knelt down until he was eye level to Potter, and Potter jerked away. "…and you are already right here…" His claw-like hand clamped around Potter's right wrist, holding fast. "It's your misfortune, Potter, that you followed me to my room."
He released the magic binding Potter, and Potter made a noise as if to say something, but Snape's hand went to Potter's mouth, digging into the skin of the boy's face. His other hand released Potter's wrist, and, seizing his wand, traced a line just above his own collarbone. The line burst open into a cut, which began seeping blood—monster blood.
With a sudden sweeping motion, Snape's hands dug tightly into Potter's hair and slammed his face into the cut on Snape's collar. Clumsily positioning Potter so that the boy's mouth was crushed over the cut, he tightened his grip on a handful of Potter's hair and hissed, dangerously, "Suck the blood."
"Mrmf!" Potter struggled under Snape's hold, obviously adverse to the idea of sucking a vampire's blood.
"Drink it, you fool," Snape said, his voice still soft. His claw-like hand clasped the back of Potter's head firmly, and he dug his nails further, trying to physically coerce Potter into submission.
Potter's furious eyes focused on Snape's face. "No way," he growled. "It's blood—"
But these words caused Potter to open his mouth, which was a terribly unwise thing—the flow of blood had finally reached Potter's tongue, and he let out a loud gasp. Suddenly, with a burst of passion, Potter clamped his mouth over the wound and begun sucking the blood madly, almost like a baby sucking from a bottle.
Snape knew why Potter held fast—he knew that only one drop of a vampire's blood was all it took for a mortal to want more—and more—and more. He remembered the feeling when he had been made, unwillingly, into the monster that he was now—the elation, the fevered delight, the unimaginable sweetness of the blood, and always, always, the desire to drink more of that lovely blood. He knew exactly how Potter felt now.
"Hell tastes sweet, doesn't it, Potter?" Snape whispered into the air. The question was more for Snape himself than it was for Potter.
Then, abruptly, he grabbed Potter's shoulder and peeled him away from the flowing blood. The vampire skin instantly began healing itself, knitting back together neatly. Potter made a loud whining noise of discontent, and even tried leaning toward Snape's collar again, but Snape held him fast. Potter's chin was smeared with red blood.
"Get back to your senses, Potter," Snape said, removing his hand from the boy's shoulder.
Slowly, Potter wiped the still-sticky blood from his mouth, and his eyes lost the maddened light they'd had when he had been drinking from Snape. Now he stared at Snape with an expression of horror, disgust, and surprise.
"Monster," Potter whispered. "Monster!"
"Believe me, Potter," Snape said. "You're not the only one who thinks I'm a monster."
Potter trembled and staggered to his feet, obviously eager to leave—but as soon as he got up he fell down again. With a cry of indignation, he whirled around to stare at Snape, whose hand was lowered to the ground in a deliberate-seeming manner.
Then Snape lifted his hand, and smiled amusedly as Potter rose, obviously against his will. The boy struggled desperately, then turned and shot a scathing glare toward Snape.
"Poor mortal who tasted vampire blood," Snape said lightly. "You're now my servant, my puppet—an extension of me, if you will. You still can act independently, but when I command you, you must obey."
"I hate you," Potter snarled.
"Oh, Potter," Snape said, lying back against the footboard of his bed. "Believe me, my new assistant, I hate you as well."
Author's Notes: WHEW. FINISHED. (still writing this in class…)
Wow…is it just me or did this chapter have…bondagey implications? Eh. It's just me. :D And I'm reading an Anne Rice book right now so it's unfortunately influencing me. Damn you, Anne Rice.
I hope this chapter wasn't too fragmented. Or didn't make sense. Whatever. It's only fanfiction, right…?
:angsts in a corner:
By the way, please review!