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 5,000 of a total of 55,000
Young Immortals - All Chapters
The room was stifling. He couldn't get any air and his covers were too heavy and the room was pitch black. Harry just couldn't sleep. After restless tossing and turning, completely ensnaring himself in his blankets, slumber was abandoned and instead he trudged through the halls on weary legs. Nothing helped, not the regal portraits, not the beautiful landscapes, not the views of L'Ombre Valley from the floor to ceiling windows that lined the grand rooms of Baden Manor. When his agitation remained after an hour of haunting the hallways, he returned to his room and let his mind distract itself with the new branch of magic that they'd learned that day. Well, mastered to be honest. Harry was a modest man, but he still accepted and understood the truth. It was something that each of them had taken to, like a Potter to a broom, and they were casting the spell quicker and quicker each round, dominating and controlling the magic with more finesse each time the curses were cast.
After they had grown bored with the 'attack' aspect of the spell, they worked on the 'support' aspect and cast other enchantments on each other just to lend magic to their allies, who then took the magical energy and converted it into another spell. Ron, ever the crafty one, took the magic and immediately turned it into healing energy that he surged throughout his body. Though none of them were injured, all of them thought it an excellent plan and practiced that for another few hours.
As Harry slipped back into bed, his thoughts lunged back to Severus like a wild hippogriff on a pack of ferrets, and how he'd studied them during their entire lesson, his face unreadable. Well, almost. Harry knew the man was impressed. There was something in his eyes. To someone less of a Severus Snape authority, those eyes might look hard as steel, but they had softened somehow; showed a little of what was underneath.
But more than that, Harry just knew the man was proud of him. It wasn't anything he read from eyes or posture, it was simply something he knew. It must be the joining, he thought, and he wondered what new facet would develop once he'd fed Severus one more time. Once they'd really made love.
Harry jerked upright at that thought, the covers slipping from his chest. Making love. That was something totally different from sex. Did he think Severus wanted that from him? Wanted more than just sex and penetration and orgasm? Harry wasn't sure, but as he surveyed his own feelings he knew that there was something there, that he felt something more than simple lust.
But that wasn't entirely why he couldn't sleep tonight. He really needed to learn more about this bond, to decide what was him and what was the blood, because his emotions and thoughts were shifting. Things were happening to him. Very interesting and embarrassing things and after hours of tossing and turning, of his mind wandering into hidden corners he'd never wanted to face, he finally let his hand slink down into his pyjama pants and stroke himself. And with completion came sleep.
Severus remained in his chair, barely conscious in his meditative doze. He had fed from two people two times, but it was only one whose existence was tickling his senses tonight. The blood called to him, Harry called to him and he could feel the pull. There was recognition, something within him welcomed Harry. And he felt that Harry welcomed him in return.
He could sense the other man as he rose and walked through the halls in the early morning hours. He knew his tension and felt his discomfort.
As Harry returned to his room, Severus was with him, attached to every aspect of his being: his feet as they crossed the carpeting, is hand a it slipped through his hair, his mind when it turned to him, as easily recognizable as if someone had looked him right in the eye and he felt the edge of interest and the spark of pleasure as Harry worked himself over. Severus groaned at the sensation, pressing the heel of his hand against his groin that had awakened as his partial joining with Harry took form.
And as he felt Harry meet his orgasm, so too had Severus reached his own release, with only that firm pressure and those seeping sensations.
That night he slept; the first real sleep he'd slept in many months.
Harry was irritated. Ron was squirmy and this caused Harry's irritation, heightened it with each twitch, whine and invasion of his space. The man couldn't sit still. He would pace the halls, do sit-ups in the most unique place, such as the hall bathroom, or pushups on the dining table, and he would often followed Harry or one of the girls around, bored and wanting to be entertained.
When Ron had tagged after Harry as he went into the loo, it was too much.
It was time for another trip to the city.
"Really?" Ron bounced about like a kitten after a ball, gathering his things to take to the city, primping for the ladies, generally fraying everyone's last nerve. "We get to go back to civilization, and curry, and hot, eager women?
"My God, the man has been celibate for five days now. The horror. The horror," Ginny said dryly, not at all sympathetic.
"I wouldn't mind going back into town, I'm running out of books," Hermione said, looking at a book in her hand that she'd already read three times. A small pile of similar books was set next to the settee where she was lounging near the doors of the conservatory that lead to the back veranda. "The sex scenes are all the same, I need some new, fresh imagination. And what is with these penis euphemisms?"
Ron groaned. He hated it when Hermione talked about things like penises.
She sprawled out on the settee and took a deep breath. "Cock, dick and prick. Okay, I can work with those. Erection and hard-on work when said penis is in an excited state. But member? Why member? And what the fuck is up with manhood? I hate manhood. Rod of Steel. Meat of Pleasure. Fuckstick. None of those do it for me. They either make me wince in pain at the bad writing or I burst out laughing, and that's a far cry from meeting the purpose of smut novels. I don't want to read about someone inserting his power tool into her dark tunnel of mysteries. I want to read how he pounds her into the mattress with his raging cock and she screams 'harder' and 'more' and 'oh god yes.'" Hermione paused, the men looking aghast at her. Then she sighed. "Sometimes they just don't make smut right."
Harry and Ron shared a disturbed look between themselves, but Ginny brightened. "Well, Hermione. Why don't you write some porn?" She sat on a footstool, her Battle Bag resting on the tile floor to her right and another overnight bag, tiny in comparison, was slung over her shoulder.
"What? Really?" Hermione asked as she pushed herself up from her reclining position. She looked far too pleased by this suggestion. "You think I could?"
"Well I like to scream 'harder' and 'more' as much as the next gal. If you think you can create that, then why not?" Ginny said helpfully.
Harry did not want to hear this conversation.
"Say, you got a point there, sis," Ron said. "I like to make 'em scream and beg and yell out my name. Maybe we can combine our expertise and write this stuff together." Ron waggled his eyebrows at Hermione and smirked. "Maybe we can even do a little research for it, too."
Hermione grinned, but said in a stern tone, "Oh Ron, I've already had my way with you, you'll just have to look elsewhere to fulfill your odd little toe sucking fantasy."
"Hmm, toes." Ron sighed, then reached down for Hermione, hands lifted as if to grab her and drag her away to the closest bedroom. "Tasty toes. Tasty ears, tasty breasts… tasty…"
"Ron! Really… I don't want to hear this," Harry pleaded. Was he the only one with any sense of decorum here? "And I highly doubt the girls want to hear it, either."
Hermione, unfortunately, did have an eager look on his face, though Ginny generally looked bored.
"Fine… town. We are going to town." He would play the distraction tactic.
"Finally," Ron practically chirped. "We're staying the night, too. No arguments." The girls stood and the four headed out of the conservatory.
"Okay, but you get your own room. And I get the room with the two beautiful ladies." Harry tried to leer at Hermione and Ginny but they just giggled at him.
"Oh Harry, we are sure our virtue is safe with you."
Harry almost felt insulted. "What? I could ravage you?"
But then Ron asked, "What virtue?" and received a playful slap across his shoulder.
"Yes, Harry. Whatever you say," Ginny said and kissed him chastely on the cheek.
"What!" he yelled after her as she ran to inform Severus of their plans. "I could be totally vicious, Ginny!"
When the four left the house for the Apparition point, they linked arms together and practically skipped along under the bright sky and thriving forest, their laughter mingling with the twitters of the birds.
Not long after they left, a lone figure emerged from the forest and walked towards the entranceway, wings unfurling, charcoal feathers fluttering to the ground.
They rented two rooms from the same inn they stayed at during their last visit to town. Ron had his room two doors on the left from the slightly larger room Harry, Hermione and Ginny shared together. The girls enjoyed it because they knew Harry was generally harmless; they could cuddle on the bed while watching Muggle television and eat rich chocolates while drinking sweet wine knowing he wasn't going to make a move. They knew Ron wouldn't make a move on them either, but he just wasn't as comfortable and he talked way too much through the slower parts of the films.
There was a knock on their door and Ron walked in without any welcome. "Don't you lot look cozy?" Harry was sitting in the middle of the bed with a girl resting on each arm. Ginny's head was on his right shoulder and Hermione was leaning close to his left. Harry grinned from ear to ear.
Ron smiled back, which morphed into a completely malicious grin causing Harry to tense in anticipation and he was barely prepared before Ron landed on them. "Don't leave me out!" he said as he nuzzled his way in-between Harry and Hermione.
"Hey!" Hermione cried, smacking Ron on the head. "Don't needle-butt me off the bed, you get on the outside."
With a lip stuck out in an eerie impression of an eleven-year old Draco Malfoy when his mother forgot his weekly chocolate owl, Ron begged: "But Hermione. I want to be in the middle. I feel left out."
"Oh get off it, Ron, you're always in the middle. Let Hermione and Harry have the prime spots," Ginny grumbled at her brother, not even bothering to look at him, but choosing instead to burrow deeper into Harry, who continued to grin.
With a dramatic sigh, Ron slid on the other side of Hermione and cuddled her close, wrapping her in his arms and nestling his face into her neck. He breathed in deeply and sighed, causing Hermione to giggle.
"Is this the first of our research, Ron?" she asked. "Scent comparison?"
Ron perked his head up and looked at her with a lopsided smile. "It's a good preamble." And then he dove back down into her neck, nuzzling her.
"Maybe you two should get a room," Ginny suggested, turning up the volume on the telly with the remote. Ron turned to Hermione and cocked his head, eyes gesturing towards the door.
Hermione sighed. "Ron, I told you, for us to be together… I want to be together. No more randy goat impersonations. Finish with your wild oat harvest and then we'll talk, and much, much more," she said with a lecherous smirk that caused Ron's complexion to heat up, merging his freckles together. "And I've had lots of study."
Harry burst out laughing. "Hold up there, sex fiends; why don't we get out of here for a while, take Ron out to harvest more oats, get a few drinks and come back here later."
"Looking for that blond again, Harry?" Ron asked with a suggestive smirk. Harry went white.
"Oh… um. No," Harry said. He'd forgotten.
Ginny turned off the television and climbed off the bed, stretching like a cat. "Yeah, let's get out of here for a while. Harry, do you need us to run interference for you?"
"Ahhh. No?" Harry said, not sounding so sure, as he excavated his way out from the center of the bed. "I doubt he'll be there. Let's not worry about it. Ready, Hermione?" Harry held out a hand to his friend, who grabbed it and pulled herself up.
"Just one minute," said Hermione and she pulled out her wand. She aimed it at Harry, who stood motionless. Hermione's romantic side couldn’t stand that they would go to any club wearing blue jeans and a jumper so she always insisted on dressing them up.
When the four left the room, they looked surprisingly put together. Ron wore leather trousers with a loose fitting shirt of a metallic blue with his hair slightly spikey. Ginny wore a short, pleated skirt and a tight, white top with a head of long red curls that bounced whenever she took a step. Harry was a mirror of Ron with looser trousers and a tight, netted top with black eyeliner and shaggy hair that still refused to be tamed. Hermione wore a longer black dress with her hair done up in a French twist and deep red lips. It was a rather arbitrary mix they showed off, but each person was supremely satisfied with his or her look.
The walk to the club wasn't too far and they were soon parked at a table with a round of drinks already put down.
"Entschuldigen Sie! Bitte noch 'ne Runde." Harry ordered another round and the waitress emerged from the cigarette smoke haze with four more shots of rum.
There was a nice beat to the music, but nobody graced the dance floor this early in the evening. However, Ginny, as well as the rest of them for that matter, cared less if nobody else was out there. "Come on my beautiful friends, let's dance!"
She grabbed Ron's hand and pulled him up. He stood, tossed back his shot, and went out to dance with his sister. Harry watched them for a while and then drank his rum, turned to Hermione and then they stood together to join their friends. They were all over the dance floor, sometimes leaping in some odd form of ballet and other times grinding up against each other in a sporadic orgy that earned them a hefty dose of attention from the locals. Then they would pull away, dancing alone with the music for a while, and then pair up again.
It was rare when the four could just be wild and let loose. They laughed aloud and soon more and more people joined them, the more adventurous ones partnering with one of the quartet.
Harry and Hermione waltzed to one of the slower songs, totally ignoring the actual beat and dancing to their own drummer. He would stop and twirl her and sometimes do a dip, which Hermione performed with a flourish--her arm tossed over her head, her back bent deeply as her head reached for the floor. Then the music started to dim, almost fade around the edges, and Harry looked up to see if they were having technical difficulties. Oddly, everybody kept dancing, drinking, talking; nobody seemed to notice. He twirled Hermione again as they automatically settled into a traveling box step, and he tried to concentrate on the odd feeling that started overwhelming his senses.
"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked as she took lead and twirled him twice.
"Not sure… just…" There was something going on, something off. He started to feel nervous and his eyes darted around, certain there was someone there, watching, waiting. "I think… Do you feel anything, Hermione? I think there's danger."
"No, Harry, I don't." She stopped their dance and pulled him over to the sidelines, away from the busy dance floor. Ginny, who was dancing with a tall Austrian man, cocked her head at them, 'do you need me?' and Hermione shook her head, 'not yet.' "What do you feel?" she asked him once they had gotten out of the other dancers' way.
"Just distracted… It's almost like I forgot something incredibly important but I just can't remember." He looked around the club some more, but didn't see anyone or anything that set off his finely tuned sense of danger. He looked back to Hermione and shrugged, shaking his head. "I've no idea." And then he smiled. Hermione looked so beautiful, all flush and out of breath, and she was having so much fun. "Let's go back and if it gets worse or I figure out what it is, I'll let you know."
She smiled in return and asked if he was sure. He grabbed her hand and lugged her back out, assuring her all was well and then they started a tango.
A few songs later found them all at the bar, downing bottles of water and laughing aloud. "Ron, you are a Macarena Queen!" Ginny said laughing.
"Queen?" he looked aghast.
"Well, with a hip wiggle like that, and the gay population of this bar drooling all over you, I couldn't call you a king," she said with a wink.
Harry laughed hard and when he finally caught his breath he took another long swig, his previous anxiety vanished in their joy. Then a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned and saw Ed.
"Ed, hi. Wie geht's dir?" Harry asked.
"Good, Harry. I am good. How are you?" The man smiled at the gathering of witches and wizards, showing off his layers of dimples.
"Great," Harry said somewhat unenthusiastically. "Um," he turned his back to the newcomer and faced his friends, "this is Ed. Ed, this is Ron, Hermione and Ginny." He offered a strained smile and raised his shoulders in a 'what can I say' gesture, then turned back to Ed and plastered on a fake, good to see you, look.
"Would you…" Ed said, gesturing towards the dance floor. It was crowded and there weren’t many other male couples out there.
"Sure, I'd love to dance." Harry handed his bottle of water to Ron and walked out to the dance floor with Ed possessively touching his back.
"So, they know?" Ed asked as he draped his arms loosely around Harry's neck. The song was slower than he liked. "That you're gay?"
"I'm bi, and yes, they know. They're my best friends." He shrugged as he danced against Ed, a little more stiffly than last time.
"Are they also studying the snail?" Ed asked. The music, though slow, was still loud and Ed had to lean close to Harry's ear to be heard. His breath tickled the fine hairs on Harry's neck.
"What?" he asked, wondering what Ed was talking about.
"The snail? The one you are studying?" Ed asked with a tilt to his head. What Harry had previously found cute seemed slightly cliché to him tonight.
"Oh… no. They just came to visit for a while," Harry mumbled. Ed nodded and smiled.
"You look really good tonight. I like your outfit," Ed said, his dimples popping out with his lecherous grin. Harry thanked him as they continued to move to the music, feeling awkward.
After a few dances, that distraction feeling was really … well, distracting, and Harry didn't want to lead Ed on anyway. He pulled away from the blond with an apologetic look on his face.
"What's wrong? You a… want to go back to my flat?" The eager look on the man's face caused Harry to flinch.
"Actually, I'm with my friends, so…" Harry shook his head. "Sorry." He stepped away and went to rejoin everyone, who had procured a table and had been sending him glances the entire time he'd been dancing with Ed.
Harry felt a hand grip his arm and he turned. "Yes?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Listen," Ed said, running his hand through his short hair, he accent growing thicker as he rushed his words at Harry. "I would like to hook up again before you leave town. Would that be possible?"
"Ah, maybe… I…"
"Harry!" Ginny tumbled into his arms. "We’ve been waiting for you; we're ready to go. Come with us. Come on." She was all over Harry, wrapping him up with her arms, rubbing her breasts against his chest, nuzzling up to his neck, kissing the corner of his lips. "Ron said he'd suck on Hermione's toes and I really want to watch and then maybe you and I could…" she made a vague gesture with her shoulders and head and smiled up at him.
"Um, okay. Let's go. See you, Ed." Harry offhandedly waved at the man, who stood there as if stricken, and turned away with Ginny wrapped around him. He leaned down to her ear, a movement that would look like a kiss to anyone watching, and whispered thanks as they walked up to the table, dodging drunk men and women as they lurched upon the dance floor.
"So, I hear we have some toe sucking to perform. Are we heading back?" Ron asked, a tall, Hispanic woman on his arm. Harry nodded.
They all left, Ron with his 'friend' in tow, and returned to their inn. Harry didn't even look back.
"See you in the morning," he waved at Ron and his lady, who was friendly and called Maria, as he retired to the other room.
"Damn," said Harry disappointedly after he, Hermione and Ginny had entered their room, all of their glamoured outfits shimmering away like the spray from a waterfall. "I thought we were going to get to watch toe sucking." He threw himself on the bed, sprawling out his arms and legs to take over the entire thing.
"I hope he remembers his Silencing Charm," Hermione said as she stripped down and headed for the shower. "You two should shower, too; you smell."
"Group shower!" Harry yelled, and shucked off his shirt, shoes and pants and rushed to the bathroom, racing Ginny who had almost beaten him in the stripping race.
However, as they made a complete mess of the bathroom, flooding the shower/tub contraption, spewing shampoo everywhere, Harry couldn't help shrug off that odd feeling. What was it he was forgetting?
Silence permeated the house, and it had been letting him be, so Severus tried to take solace in his new found privacy and blessed quiet.
As he busied himself cleaning his potions lab, those annoying bells echoed through the house, announcing visitors. The only visitor he had ever received was no longer welcome. Though he'd been researching it, he hadn't discovered anything on how to fight the veela's entrancement that turned him into a blubbering idiot, or at least tried to. Severus definitely didn't want to drink from that woman any more. Even the memory of her blood seemed bland.
So he kept himself occupied in the basement, just waiting for the foul angel of death to leave him be.
When the claxons finally stopped he breathed a sigh of relief, and then scowled that he'd actually hid from the woman.
He'd just finished washing his gold plated cauldron with a special rinse of dragon tears when he heard a sound. The house creaked, or a door opened… something shifted. The house that could remain completely silent if it wanted to had just made a noise.
He turned from his work and walked to the doorway, pressing his ear to it. "What is it, Josephine?" he asked quietly. A sound vibrated through the door. It happened again and again and Severus finally realized what he was hearing… very quiet footsteps. If the house hadn't amplified them for him, even the sharp hearing bestowed upon him by the vampire's curse might not have picked them up in time.
Indecision on the most prudent response to her entering the house—and why had the house let her in?—consumed his thoughts. But after a few moments he could no longer hear the footsteps and he wondered why he even cared, because what was the point? Why did he need to run from the woman? It wasn't like she was going to harm him. And really, he would do anything for her. Maybe he should show her the new teleporting potion he was developing.
Then realization lanced his nerves, the feeling approximately like falling through the ice covering a frozen lake. Her power, subtle and insidious, was already destabilizing his will. He shook his head and flashed to the opposite side of the room. Small windows, too small for him to climb through, lined the wall near the ceiling and he kicked himself for not securing another entrance to the laboratory. Of course, he knew that if he had attempted to install another entrance the damned house would have just removed it. Permission was required of a magical construct like this to do any modifications—unless you were of the bloodline. He doubted Dumbledore himself could have done anything to this house without its consent.
Fuck. Severus paced the laboratory as it seemed to shrink in size, fighting with his considerable stubbornness not to fall into a retched state of acceptance.
Then it struck him. If the house could remove any doors, it could also make them.
He rushed to the farthest wall from the door and leaned up against the bricks to whisper into them. "Josephine… you have helped me once already. Please help me again. I need an exit from this place." The precious seconds burned away and the footsteps were now loud enough that he could hear them approaching with his own unaided ears. Why wasn't she working with him? Didn't the house realize that Severus was for Harry, not this veela?
That was not something Severus ever wanted to admit to himself and he scowled at the objectification he had just acknowledged.
However, it was true and he couldn't stay here as Serephia drew closer. She would certainly force him to feed from her again, and then he would join with her and potentially lose Harry forever.
He leaned his head against the wall, the stone cool against his forehead. He felt the urge to smack his head against the stones, perhaps knock himself into unconsciousness, but instead swallowed his pride. "Josephine. Please. Help me. She will take me from Harry." He continued to struggle against the siren's call that was subverting him further and further. He glanced up at one of the windows… Maybe he could push through it. If only he had a shrinking potion.
"Please." He splayed his hands out against this barrier to freedom, feeling the rough, ungiving grain of the bricks.
"I'm Harry's," he half sobbed, half pleaded. Then he sighed. All this stress over avoiding the veela wasn't doing him any good. Maybe he could just talk to her… and then in a fit of anger he slammed the palm of his hand onto the brick wall. It slid inward. His head shot up and he examined the wall. With little pressure it tilted in. He applied more pressure and a portion of the wall swiveled, leaving a crawl space large enough for him to enter. Hiking up his robes he placed a knee in the passageway, and then the other. It was roughly hewn and his knees hurt as they shuffled across the uneven surface, but it was nothing to him.
With his entire body crammed into the passage, he had to use his foot to close the wall behind him, submerging himself into pitch black. Memories, long dead, popped up of being locked in a box and buried alive without his wand. Voldemort was such a sick fuck. But Voldemort wasn't here and he did have his wand. He pulled it out and cast Lumos.
The passage was long and narrow. He grumbled at the condition of his escape route, but wouldn't dismiss this treasure that Josephine had given him. With his wand in his teeth he scrambled down the passage, all the while feeling less and less of Serephia's presence. He relaxed once he didn't have to fight her anymore.
The passage led him to another blank wall which he pushed open into the cool evening on the back veranda. Climbing out with casual ease, he stood and dusted off his clothing, examining a long tear in his robe before quickly mending it with a charm. He closed the brick wall that had swung out and it sealed, leaving no evidence that it had even existed. He patted the house and whispered "thank you" before running off into the evening, up the gap in the canyon walls, through the forest. Away.
He had no specific goal in mind, other than creating distance between him and that woman, and so with that complete lack of direction, he Apparated to town.
END BIT 8