Rating: PG13 - NC17
Summary: Ten years have passed and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny have done nothing but perfect their skills in preparation for their final battle with Voldemort. None of them expected they would run into Snape, let alone did they foresee the price he would demand for his teachings. Well, nobody except maybe Ginny.
Warnings: Blood. Male/Male sexual situations. Language. Rimming. Violence.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based in the world created by J.K.Rowling. They aren't mine and I make no money from them. No toes were intentionally stepped on.
Author's notes: Yet another vampire!bonding!fic that every vampire fanatic must write. What can I say, I love vampire fics. Written prior to Deathly Hallows during NaNoWriMo 2006. Spoilers for all books prior but no intended references to the final book. Thanks so much to asrai99 who has reviewed my story! You are amazing. All mistakes are mine and by all means, let me know if you find any.
Word count: Approximately 5,700 of a total of 54,000
Young Immortals - All Chapters
The town was busy, so Harry assumed it must be Saturday. Days of the week, holidays, even months were easily lost in their scattered lives. Saturday markets always flourished in these rural towns. They walked through the core urban streets, staring at people and the items for sale. Hermione bought a few new paperbacks that she found in English and Ginny purchased some fruit. Ron eyed every young lady that walked by. A few eyed back.
They left the lively shops for Gabriella's house with Ron cajoling promises from them that they would return to town that evening. Gabriella wasn't there when they arrived, her home locked up.
"Where do you think she is?" Hermione asked, peaking through a window. A small terrier looked up and wagged its stumpy tail. "Should we leave a note or just come back in the morning?"
"Both," Harry said. He pulled out some paper and scrawled a quick note before tucking it under the door. A sharp 'yip' greeted the message. "So, let's go set up a room and enjoy the city for the day."
They arranged their accommodations in a somewhat classy little hostel with a private bath and went their separate ways. "Be back here by at least 7 a.m.," Hermione said, eyeing Ron. "So do whatever you want, just no guests! This is a hostel and bringing in a one-off is just tacky."
Harry eagerly walked off with Ron into the busier section of the town promising some night life and a place to blow off steam, to dodge the ever-present memory of Snape's bite. It'd been a long time since Harry'd had a one night stand and even longer since he'd any kind of a recurring night stand. After asking around Harry and Ron headed for the industrial edge of town and stumbled on a street dotted with bars, some with dancing, and they went into the first one they came upon. It played American 80s music and some Euro-techno, and definitely rated on the dingy side. The smell of stale beer permeated the air.
The crowd was full of early 20-somethings and Harry felt a little old, though Ron seemed oblivious that there was any difference.
"So, get you a drink?" Ron asked, getting up from the tiny table they had commandeered.
"Yeah, um, how about a lager." He didn't drink Muggle drinks often and wasn't sure of the types of beverages offered. Ron left to elbow his way to the bar. Harry sat at the table, playing with a small candle, watching the flame dance and sputter, when someone approached him.
"Hallo," she said, sitting down in Ron's chair.
"Hallo," Harry said with a smile.
"Oh, you're English," the woman said in very good English. "Do you mind if I join you?"
"Not at all," Harry said, gesturing at an empty chair. She was fairly attractive and seemed friendly enough, though the three inches of make-up on her face were rather distracting. She smiled at him with a mouth full of crooked teeth.
This was his chance; his only action in the last year and nine months--not that he was keeping track--had been dry humping a vampire's leg. Tonight he could get a proper shagging.
Ron showed up with three drinks. "Beer?" he asked the woman.
"Sure. Hi, I'm Heather."
Heather leaned forward to offer an expansive view of her décolletage. "Nice to meet you. Are you on Holiday?" She sipped her beer.
"Yes," Ron said just as Harry said, "No."
Heather laughed. "Well, which one is it?"
Harry gestured for Ron to speak and so he did, laying on all the charm, piling up layers of myth and lies. "Well, we're research fellows at Cambridge studying some of the local ecological systems in the area. The rare mixture of elevation, moisture and soil make-up, which is a unique clay formation, creates the required habitat for the Rochester Snail. So we're here collecting soil and plant samples in areas of high populations of the little Rochy. We love our work so much that it really is like a holiday." He finished with a casual shrug and a look of shy modesty that Heather ate right up.
Harry knew he had lost this one to a far better player but didn't bemoan it as defeat. He scanned the crowd as Ron chatted Heather up and saw a few people who watched him with interest.
A group of three women were sizing him up like he was the fair day prize and one man was shyly looking over his body. He knew that it would only make Ron uncomfortable if he went off with a bloke, but those women frightened him. One of them even puckered her lips, kissing the air at him, and Harry only wanted to slither under the table to hide.
The man sat in a back corner alone, sipping a mixed drink. He looked clean, without a whitewash of foundation like the women, with spiky white hair and stylish black shirt. When Harry looked over at him they made eye contact and the bloke smiled, showing a deep set of dimples. He was definitely cute.
But how open was this town to two blokes together?
Harry downed the rest of his beer with one gulp. "Hey, Ron… I'm going to go get another drink."
"Yeah, sure thing," Ron said, only half noticing Harry leave as he continued to talk with the woman, running his fingers up and down the inside of her arm.
The bar was sticky with spilled liquor, but Harry leaned up against it anyway, striking a nonchalant pose. The middle-aged bartender took his order with passable English. Harry tried to order in German but it seemed most of the people wanted to practice their English with him, and a few minutes later his drink appeared, badly mixed and a little watered down with a drowned cherry floating in the middle.
He turned his back from the bar and looked over at the blond man. The man was still looking at him, so Harry took that as a good sign and walked over to his table.
"Guten Abend. Ist hier ein Platz frei?"
"Klar doch! Are you English?" he asked. Harry had to laugh because he didn't think his accent was that pronounced, but everyone in the town seemed to have had him pegged.
"Yes. I'm Harry." Harry offered his hand and the man took it.
"I'm Ed. I haven't seen you here before. We don't get many new men in here." He made some vague gesture that Harry took to mean gay men, but didn't push it. He wasn't gay, he was bi.
"We're just in town to study some rare snail," he said with a grin as he sat down.
Ed's thin eyebrows bunched together. "A snail?"
"Uh, never mind. So…" He always sucked at the small talk. It wasn't like he was going to date this guy or anything…
He just had to get his mind off Snape.
"Shall we go to my place?" Ed asked bluntly, and Harry felt relieved. He wouldn’t have to fumble through inane chatter to get the man to drop trou. That was one bonus of men; they didn't require false promises or roses and were generally easy.
Nodding, Harry said, "Yes. Let's go." They slipped out the door together, Harry not even bothering to tell Ron he was leaving because he knew Ron wouldn't expect him to, and walked down the empty street to a two-door hatchback. Harry climbed into the passenger side seat, studying the stereo system as they traveled the short distance to Ed's place in awkward silence.
Ed lived in a small flat above a French bakery. There was a pervasive scent of baguette on the air which made Harry's stomach growl, though he wasn't remotely hungry. Butterflies had taken up residence in his belly. They climbed the stairs and Ed unlocked the door, welcoming Harry in. It was modestly furnished with nothing standing out. The walls were covered in framed posters from art prints to a black and white picture of Godzilla and there were a fair number of bookshelves filled with paperbacks and knick-knacks. Some second-hand furniture took up the central space. It was well lived in, yet clean.
Harry stood by the door, not really sure what to do next; it wasn't like he was an expert here, coming off a two year dry streak. Maybe he should have asked Ron for some tips, but he knew he'd never live that conversation down.
Ed took off his jacket, and Harry followed suit, laying it across the back of a chair, suddenly bereft without something to do with his hands. Then the young man walked up to Harry, a crooked grin dancing across his lips. He stood about Harry's height and reached a hand up to comb through his dark hair, leaning in for a kiss.
Kissing? This man wanted to kiss? The few times he had had sex with men, it was usually straightforward and impersonal. It wasn't like he was looking for that kind of intimacy.
The kiss caught Harry off guard. His eyes were frozen open, but when Ed opened his in response to Harry's charade of a marble statue, Harry finally kissed back. There was the usual bumping of teeth and he found it a little too wet, but it wasn't terrible. He tried to force himself to relax and enjoy it.
Ed's fingers laced through Harry's hair and they pulled him close, heightening the hunger of the kiss, the need and demand. Ed let out a moan, shocking Harry because he really felt no instinct himself to moan. This whole kiss thing wasn't doing it for him at all.
And then his mind returned to when Snape had bit him and he remembered the feeling of ecstasy that had coursed through his nerve endings, the pressure that had built up in his groin demanding attention. His cock twitched.
Oh God. He was getting hard while kissing one bloke by thinking of another. And a man old enough to be his father, no less. There had to be something wrong with that. Nimble fingers continued to entwine in his hair and then they pulled his head back. Leaving his lips, Ed traveled down Harry's neck, dropping quick pecks and little nibbles, and finally settled on the crook between shoulder and throat and licked.
Harry was instantly hard.
It was right where Severus had bit, only on the opposite side. The man seemed like he hadn't eaten in years the way he was devouring him, licking and sucking and nibbling. Harry pressed his hard cock against Ed's and he moaned again, this time with Harry accompanying him. Their voices mingled in passion as they rutted against each other.
"God yes," breathed Ed. He pulled away from Harry, all flush with a shy smile, and attacked the button on Harry's jeans. Harry watched him, unsure of what he should do in return, and decided Ed's jeans needed removal as well.
Harry's breath caught when he felt a strong, warm hand slip into his pants and grip his hard prick. He had to grip Ed to keep upright. God, it felt good to have someone else's hand there, stroking and pulling him. He momentarily lost focus, letting his head tilt back, drowning in the sensation. Ed lowered himself before Harry and tugged his jeans down, dragging them to his ankles. Suddenly, Harry felt terribly self-conscious, standing there in his shirt, hobbled by his pants with his cock standing at full mast.
Then Ed leaned forward and licked the head. With alarming skill he teased it with his tongue then began stroking the underside, playing, toying. When he finally took Harry fully in his mouth, Harry's conscious brain decided now was a great time for holiday.
Harry had only been with a few men, and to be honest, only a few women. He'd received a few blow jobs in his day, but this reduced all others to the fumbles of innocents. His cock was expertly handled, gently tended and Harry could tell he wasn't going to last long. He pulled on the short, blond hair, but that only made the other man suck harder. Harry's wobbly legs were gently nudged as far apart as his pants allowed and he could feel a finger gently press up to stroke his hole.
Oh Merlin. This bloke wanted to top! He wanted to ram it up Harry's arse! Scolding himself, Harry wondered why he hadn't thought of this earlier. He couldn't understand why guys didn't just rut against each other or share blowjobs. He didn't understand this whole penetration thing. He'd bottomed once and hated it, all pain and uncomfortable embarrassment. He'd topped once and thought it was okay, but felt guilty about the bloke who'd bottomed… So after that he usually tried to convince his partners that blowjobs really were enough and left it at that. Unfortunately, this had gone too far too quick and he really doubted they could backpedal now.
The finger stroking him was dry and tugged at Harry's tender skin. He tried to focus on Ed's mouth, but he kept getting distracted by the finger and noticed his cock was actually losing interest.
"Uh…" Harry said, gently pushing Ed off him. "I don’t think this is really going to work." Ed let his cock go with a gentle lick and removed his hands from Harry's body. He eyed Harry's half hardness and looked up at him.
"Top?" he asked.
"Ah, well… more so than bottom." He had an urge to grab his pants to cover himself.
"Well, I haven't gotten laid in a while, so you can top if you want." Ed didn't seem all that excited about that prospect, either.
"Okay… or how about we just share blowjobs?" Harry offered, hoping Ed would go for it.
A grin blossomed on the man's face and he nodded eagerly. "Sure!" he said and dove back down onto Harry's prick, which found renewed interest in that hot, talented mouth.
"You two got back late last night," Hermione said. "Have a good time?"
Ron grinned with beatific pleasure. "Yes I did, thank you very much." He was about to go into detail that none of them wanted to hear about when Hermione turned to Harry.
"Ah, yeah. Sure." He tossed her a smile and went back to his breakfast. To be honest, he hadn't had a bad time. It was pleasant enough to share fellatio with an attractive young man, but Harry had scampered out of there as soon as they'd finished and wandered the town alone most of the night. It wasn't that he was ashamed or anything. It was just that while his body had had fun, it hadn't necessarily been fulfilling.
At least it had scratched that itch and now he was certain he could keep his mind off Snape.
After breakfast was finished the four returned to Gabriella's house and this time she was in.
A slight breeze rustled the leaves in the trees surrounding her house. When she answered the door, her eyes were wide in surprise. The dog barked in greeting. "Oh my, I've been worried about you. You head off up L'Ombre Valley and I don't hear from you for days. I assumed the worst. I tried to go up there and find you but it was impossible."
"Impossible, how?" Hermione asked, tucking some hair away that the wind was teasing.
"Well, every time I attempted to Apparate to the location, I was directed off course. I ended up in Vienna, Kunta Hora and Venice, in the middle of the Grand Canal, mind you, which wasn't at all pleasant. So I grabbed a broom and flew out there, but I couldn’t see anything. The Valley was so overgrown that the house wasn't visible, just a forest of trees."
"How odd," Hermione said, her mind obviously far away working on the abstract problem.
"So, where have you been these last few days?" Gabriella asked, perturbed. A cloud passed over the sun, sending them into a grey shadow.
"Actually, we've found a new trainer. His recommendation came late and since we have studied earth magic recently, we decided to switch to him. We're very sorry we didn't contact you sooner, we just got caught up in the training." Ron delivered the spiel they'd all agreed upon earlier since he was the most skilled at delivering placations. "We do want to thank you for your time though." Ron offered his most charming smile, which must contain some hidden power behind it if all the women he bedded indicated anything.
"Ah, well that's too bad," Gabriella said. A slight frown showed she was disappointed, or maybe annoyed. "I guess if you found a better teacher, I can't blame you."
"Not a better teacher," Ron rushed in to say, "just somebody who has something new to teach us."
"Oh, what would that be?" she asked.
"We're being taught by a Dark Arts Master," Ginny offered with a bat to her eyelashes and sweet smile. Harry flinched.
"What? You cannot learn the Dark Arts!" Gabriella seemed completely aghast. "Those are forbidden." A knot twisted and twined in Harry's stomach.
Hermione scowled at Gabriella. "Yes, but everyone needs to learn some at least once in their life, like smoking pot," she said, annoyed. "Someone, somewhere decided that all 'Dark Arts' practice would be illegal so that only the people who didn't care about the law could learn them. Sometimes you really need to fight fire with fire."
She looked about done with Gabriella. She pulled her paperback out of her bag, leaned against the house and started reading. Everyone stared at her. Harry kicked at the toe of his left shoe with the heel of his right, unsure of what to say, and was startled when Hermione giggled at something she'd just read.
"Well, do expect me to report this to your contacts with the Order." Gabriella's tone left no room for argument.
Harry watched a line of ants cross the sidewalk at his feet.
Hermione laughed again, flipping a page.
He looked from Hermione to the others. "Go ahead," Harry finally said after nobody spoke up, his tone hard. "We're doing what we can to be ready. Sorry if your societal sense of morals has been bruised. If you hear anything about Voldemort, let our contact know so we can deal with it and then we can stop studying everything and anything we can get our hands on. Okay?"
He turned and walked away, followed by Ginny staring off into the clouds, her hands clasped behind her back, and Hermione with her nose in the romance novel. Ron looked over his shoulder at Gabriella and offered a short apology with his sweet smile and followed after the others.
He jogged a few steps to catch up with Harry and then said, "Well, that was a nice little speech. Way to burn that bridge." Hermione harrumphed. Harry shrugged.
"It doesn’t really matter," Harry said. "We've only been training to keep ourselves from going bat-shit crazy anyway. I can't stand the waiting! I wish we could just kill the bastard once and for all, stop fucking around and just live our damned lives!"
"Let's just go home and begin our new studies. I bet everything will go quickly now that we found Snape," Ginny said. More clouds passed over the face of the sun, dropping them continuously in shade and then abruptly washing them in sunshine again.
"Is this a guess or a feeling?" Ron asked.
"A feeling," Ginny said.
Hermione lowered her book and stared at Ginny. "You know something's going to happen soon?" she asked anxiously. "Are we going to be finished with this whole mess soon?"
Whenever his friends looked eager to be done with their quest, guilt ate at Harry. It wasn't their quest, their prophecy, it was his. And he hated that they had put their lives on hold to continue with him. He'd asked them in the past to leave if they needed to, told them this was his fight. They laughed in his face and continued to walk by his side through the dry, dull days. He loved them so much.
With a frown of remorse, Ginny looked into Hermione's eyes. "I can only see so much. Of that, I can only understand a portion. And sometimes it is best if I do nothing, say nothing, about what I think I do understand. Because even if I think it all makes sense, one wrong move can cut that thread and start another. Time is fluid, eternal. Our choices change it. Just because I can see into the future, doesn't mean it is the same future we will get to. So I try not to tinker with it. But yes, Hermione, I think we're close to an end. I have seen options… not all of them good… but I do think it will be over soon."
They had gathered in the drawing room with Severus. A table had been brought in, made of ornately craved cherry, and extra chairs had been pulled from various other rooms. The bookcases and books had been taken to the hallway, as well as the chatty mirror and any other breakables.
"So, you wish to learn the Dark Arts?" Severus asked, catching each of his student's eyes with amused malice. "The pure Gryffindors have sunk so far." He spoke as if some simpering confidant was sitting at his side.
"Can we dispense with the taunts and get on with this?" Harry asked. "I've informed you of what we've learned and the things we've done. Do you have anything to offer us?"
Severus scowled at Harry's harsh tone. The young man had gotten dismissive and disdainful. He understood how to deal with a Potter who flinched at the sharp whip of his tongue, but not one who actually fought back thoughtfully.
"Fine." He leaned back into his chair, steepling his fingers before his face. "First we will learn about magic siphoning spells. What do you know about them?"
"You have to tap into the inner core of the person's or place's magic…" Ron started.
"…and with the strength of your own magic and will you have to overpower it," Ginny ended.
"There are several ways to do this, Professor," Hermione said, barely glancing up from her damned book, a lighthouse and a woman whose bust almost burst from her dress on the cover. "There are potions and hexes. But even more powerful and effective is sympathetic magic, such as a voodoo doll or gris gris bag. Normally those are pretty simple forms of magic, but they tend to work very well in power theft." She casually turned a page.
Though Severus couldn't quite believe these three just explained siphoning magic so simply and thoroughly, he gave not hint of his shock. "Anything to add Mr. Potter?"
"Yeah," Harry said, a look of triumph and hunger on his face. "I am doing it to you now." His laugher could have been aimed at a defeated adversary; it wasn't at all pleasant.
Severus' blood burned with his fury. How could he not have noticed? He checked his magical core and discovered a very minute amount of magic leaving him and funneling towards Potter.
"And check this out," Harry said, totally oblivious--or perhaps not even caring—the minor tempest of anger burning within the vampire. He pulled out his wand and performed a very ornate move of aerial calligraphy and Severus noticed his magic now went from Harry to the other three in series. "And then, we can do this…" all of them said Tometus and then the magic leaked from Severus directly to each individual.
"We could do it better with a doll, but this is just a demonstration, right?" Ginny asked, seeming very proud.
"And I didn't want to take much from you initially, you rarely do, because then the wizard will notice. Best to take your time and start off slow, then really suck 'em dry when they can't do anything about it." With a defined cutting motion with his wand, Harry severed the siphon.
"Interesting, isn't it!" Harry said happily, his previously lighthearted expression returned.
"Why, exactly, did you come to me to learn about Dark Arts?" Severus lunged to his feet, looming over the foursome and radiating anger. "Apparently you have had excellent teachers in the past, go back to them." How could they have caught him off guard like that? These children?
These children who spent the past decade focusing on nothing else but magical attacks and defenses. They could probably teach Severus a thing or two and based on this complex display, he knew they could. He was totally outclassed. By Potter. What had the world come to in his exile?
Harry looked gob-smacked. "Uh, sorry, sir. I was just showing you what we knew about magic siphoning. I guess I shouldn't have tested it on you." Harry stared down at the carpet, eyes wide in the study of the threads.
"Very observant. No. You should not have. Now get…"
"Professor. Snape, sir," Ginny interrupted him. "Please, we do need your help. We know quite a few Dark spells, yes, but we need to know more. We haven't learned anything that we feel could really destroy Voldemort once and for all. And we haven't learned anything that can find him. You were the Half Blood Prince and you have an amazing intuition into magic. Please help us. I think that by now, you're the only one who really can."
"We're cocky and self-confident. And we are powerful; don't let our general attitudes convince you otherwise. We won't cow to you, or anyone, but we will respect you. We do respect you. But we are not the same students you bullied in Hogwarts," Ron said. There was an honest, entreating look on his face, like a dragon tamer when his favorite pet is pissy over last night's snack and wants to nibble on the local human settlement.
They had changed. And he had too. Maybe it was time he showed them that.
Severus took in a deep breath and let it out. It didn't have the same effect it used to when he actually needed air, but he still found it calming. "Fine, Mr. Weasley," Severus said, to everyone's shock. "I have things I can teach you, but you might not remain the same as you are now. The Dark Arts change people."
Ron rose from his seat and took a step forward; all grins vanished from his face which now showed only a hard, compassionless visage. "We're already not the people we once were. We've already changed. We've hunted down renegade Death Eaters and Dark creatures. We've tortured. We've killed. We've lived without mercy for years. We've forgotten that these acts are supposed to be hard," he ended softly.
Severus blinked. "You do know you can turn out to be like him," he said.
"I can only hope we don't," said Harry, sadly. "We know that could be a struggle. For a while there we…" he looked around at the others, each of their faces showing pain and sorrow and remorse, but not giving into any of it, gripping onto something solid and unyielding within. "We sunk pretty low. Then each of us… well, we found our own ways of coping." Harry shrugged, replacing unformed words with a simple gesture. "We know we can be like him, but that knowledge keeps us balanced."
"I hope so. If I ever think you will become the next Dark Lord, any of you, I will kill you myself," Severus promised.
"We would expect nothing less," said Hermione from her chair. She was staring at her hands as if remembering some past act they'd been accomplice to.
Ron mumbled, "I'd like to see him try." The words sounded sad.
"Mr. Weasley, I would like to inform you that in my current state I have excellent hearing."
Ron blushed, and smiled, just a little.
Something about these four, maybe it was their past misdeeds, maybe it was their remorse, made them feel like kin. "In any case, I did agree to teach you. I leave it to you to determine if it is of value or not. Remember, you do not need to bathe in evil to fight it."
"We know, sir. Thank you." Ron nodded.
"And call me Severus. No need for formality anymore."
Harry grinned up at him. The others' smiled as well, though not quite as exuberantly. "Certainly, Severus. Now, is there anything else you want to quiz us on? I promise not to test it on you… without your permission of course."
"Undoubtedly," Severus drawled.
Crouching close to the earth, Harry shimmied over sticks and fir needles, trying not to knock his knees on any sharp stones. They were sent out into the forest to track down and capture, not slay, a mochit. They'd been charged to do it separately, not as a team and be back by daybreak.
The mochit was a small, mouse-like creature with innate teleporting abilities. It would vanish when it felt danger and appear at a nearby location, seemingly at random.
Harry had a life sensing charm active because until he actually spotted the mochit, he wouldn't be able to place a tracking spell on it. Unfortunately, this forest was full of mammalian life, almost entirely small mouse-like creatures. He knew it wouldn't be easy.
He sensed a rodent near a small patch of fruiting bushes and quietly crawled over to it. Layered with Disillusionment charms and sound dampening spells, he was hard to notice by most of the forest's inhabitants. But another specialty of the mochit was a highly adapted perception to pierce through these kinds of charms because its main predator was the flickering hound, which also had teleporting abilities as well as a shimmering hide quite like the demiguise. Severus had really challenged them on this simple mission.
He gently moved a branch aside and saw it, a small, slightly green rodent with very pointy ears and nose. Harry carefully brought out his wand and with a quick flourish cast petrificus totalus.
Unfortunately, the little mochit heard Harry and popped away. He cursed at himself when he realized he'd forgotten the tracking charm.
With a sigh, he focused his life-sensing spell again and walked through the forest, seeking out any rodentia signatures.
Severus wandered the halls of the manor. Sporadically that bitter ghost would show up and harass him, but her venom seemed to have dried up since Harry was about. Heir of Gryffindor, indeed. Severus shook his head. No wonder he'd been able to slay the basilisk with Gryffindor's sword.
He felt good with Harry's blood flowing through his veins. It gave him strength and dispelled that annoying apathy. Secretly, he admitted there were many times over the last few days when he longed to sample the boy again, just sink his teeth in and devour him. But he, like his four students, would fight that darkness within.
He did need to find another source of blood, though. If he wanted to maintain his current stature he couldn't allow himself to starve anymore. Maybe after they had defeated Voldemort he could take his rest, but now he had too many debts to pay, too many promises made to just sit on the sidelines any longer.
Standing in the portrait gallery, watching the paintings interact with each other, the door alarm clanged through the manor and he strode down the stairs to the main entry.
Josephine was already there, opening the door with her bright smile. "Welcome!" In walked the veela woman. With actual blood in his veins, Severus barely controlled himself when she entered. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself at her feet and beg for her lips, her blood. Her beauty was truly astounding and it moved his cold heart to see her.
"What is it you want, veela?" I can amaze you with my potions, my lady. Would you like me to slay a dragon for you? An imperceptible clenching of his jaw held in any traitorous words.
"Ah, you look… better, Severus. I see you have taken to life once more?" She seemed pleased. As she walked into the house her leather armor creaked softly, like a worn saddle, and the smell of it mixed with the sweet bouquet of her pheromones.
"As it was thrust upon me, I accepted. I am a Sentinel and I will do my duty. Is that why you are here? Do you have news, veela?"
"Call me Serephia, Severus." Her wings stirred slightly. "And no, no new news as yet. I just came to check on you, vampire." She closed the distance between them and ran a finger down the side of his face, gently capturing his long hair and letting it cascade from her hand. "To see how you've been holding up."
Her smell was overwhelming and he could just feel her blood in his throat. Was the veela offering?
Her lips were close to his face and her breath was sweet. "To see if you were hungry again."
Oh yes, that was definitely an offer. Severus looked up into the tall woman's eyes. They swirled with a rainbow of hues, turquoise to aquamarine to the deepest blue of the sea on a stormy night. He lost himself within.
"Are you?" she asked, her voice comforting, melodious.
There was no way he could say anything but yes. He leaned forward and she tilted her head, exposing her neck. Severus leaned in and licked her throat, so smooth and fresh. She tasted pure, but so different from Harry. The veela tasted like the sweetest pear he'd ever bitten into. Harry tasted of power and something more… open? Honest? Severus wasn't sure, but while the veela was purely divine, Harry tasted… he couldn't place it. And with that uncertainty in his gut, he bit down and drank from Serephia a second time.
END BIT 5