Title:: Maestro of the Dark

Authors:: Calanor and Morganlefay1958

Rating:: a very hard R!!

Disclaimer:: I don't own anything and I'm too poor to be worth suing.

Prompt:: #2 Snarry - demon!snape needs someone to controll him, who better than one Harry Potter?- Submitted by goldstein07

Word count:: 3052

Author's Notes:: Yes.. I know Demon.. but I couldn't find one that I liked.. or Severus liked.. but I ran across a article.. calling the Vampire a demon... and if you have the CD, play Music of the Night, from the Phantom of the Opera... it was the theme song.. This is nonmagic and so far off of Canon...

Betaed by the beautiful Morganlefay1958

Summary:: He's the Maestro of the Dark. His domain to rule until rogues began attacking innocents. He must claim him as a Childe or he will be lost to the darkness and madness. Will he accept or let his body go up in flames with the first rays of the morning sun?

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Maestro of the Dark

Edinburgh Scotland.

Known to be one of the most haunted cities in the world. A place where conquering kings of the past battled for lands, glory and power; surrounding themselves with the innocents who stood in their way. The history of Edinburgh was built through the blood and death of those who'd fought, bled, and died there.

To others, it has a darkness that seems to seep into your skin; shadows that flow out and reach for you, gather you into it's clutches. It was just such a darkness that Lord Harold Potter sat in; one that he found comforting and relaxing.

In the dark balcony he always occupied in the Queen's Theater during performances, he sat, classically attired in a sapphire blue silk poets shirt, black linen trousers, and a black velvet waist coat. He looked every inch the rich sophisticated gentleman. The symphonies and productions gave him a small amount of peace in his life. He was disappointed on this night though. He had come to hear the famous violinist, Severus Snape, play. Instead, the Lady Hermione Granger and the Edinburgh Symphony Orchestra were giving a performance in his stead.

She sang each piece beautifully, including a powerfully moving performance of Bach's Ava Maria. But of course, he knew she could, Lord Harold Potter had known the delightful and gifted lady for close to 300 years.

Edinburgh had been his domain for 500 years. He was the master of the city and Lord of the clans and covens in Scotland. Harold Potter was turned over 700 years ago on a lonely battlefield, after battling the English for Scotland's freedom. His sire had found him dying on that blood-darkened field, his body riddled with arrows. He remembered waking up in a barn the next night to a whole new world, as his Sire recounted to him what had happen and what to expect.

He had been angry; beyond angry; furious. He was man caught between his faith and now this irreversible change in his condition. He could wait for the sun to rise in the morning and let himself float away in ashes.. or embrace this new life. After much pondering and soul-searching--embrace it, he did. His Sire, Jean Luc Jouber moved on after he was sure that his Childe would stay safe.

Slowly, and methodically, Harold Potter worked his way through the clans and covens, uniting them, ruling them all as one and as individuals; becoming their Lord. Differences had eventually been resolved, until he had only one remaining dilemma now. A clan of rogue vampires were turning humans and leaving them to rise on their own, without the guidance of a Sire. Dangerous and hungry, a fledgling was uncontrollable without their Sire to lead them and teach them the ways of clans and covens, and the sacred laws.

"My Lord." A man with crimson hair stepped into the darkened balcony, and dipped his head in greeting. Ronald Weasley had been his friend for as many years as the Lady Hermione.

"Yes."

"They have attacked again, My Lord."

Lord Harold frowned. "I sense a foreboding, my friend."

"This time they have attacked someone of importance. Someone who would indeed be missed."

"They are trying to expose us to the outside world." The dark man touched his lips before asking, "How many victims, and where have you taken them?"

"Four men, my Lord. One of them is the violinist, Severus Snape."

Harry's head swung around and faced Ron. To attack someone with such prominence in the community, was a blatant invitation for the human world to seek out and destroy them all. Growling, "These rogues must be found and dealt with. Take hunters into the city and search until you find them."

"Yes, my lord. We've brought the victims to the castle. They are being guarded by Madam Minerva."

"Thank you, Ronald. I will return to the castle as soon as our Lady Hermione is finished. Happy hunting my friend."

Ronald bowed out of the balcony leaving Lord Harold to his silence. Severus Snape. A vampire. If that was to be his choice come morning light. What of his acquaintances? And who were they?

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Severus Snape felt as if he was pushing up from the bottomless ocean, the currents fighting to keep him from surfacing to breath fresh air. Then finally he sat up abruptly in the large bed gasping for air. The silken sheets pooled at his waist, away from his bare chest. One hand threaded though the dark inky locks while the other checked his body for wounds he was sure he would find.

But there was none. His friends...the last thing he remembered was being attacked and the blood... it seem to flow everywhere; covering everything. Where were his friends? Dead...? Was he the only one to survive?

"Your friends are in their own rooms, also awakening for the first time." The deep voice flowed from the darkness surrounding the bed.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"You are in the House of Donn, Castle Cnoc Firinne. And I am Lord Harold Potter of the Clan Brennos."

"Why am I here?"

"Three nights ago, you and your friends were... attacked by rogues."

"Rogues? What foolishness are you speaking of? Hooligans? Thieves...? Riff Raff attacked us for no reason as we strolled toward the Queen's Theater. I've missed my performance...!"

"The rogues were Vampires my friend. And at any moment you should begin feeling a hunger."

"A hung..." Severus immediately doubled over in pain, crying out at the sudden gnawing in his gut.

"Your canines will begin to lengthen, and you will feel a need...a craving for something that you are not quite sure of. You can smell it. Feel it flowing through the veins... thick and sweet. Taste the tang from across the room. The fear and passion of it as it calls out to you."

One long bare leg slid from the bed, the sheet still draped about his waist, as Severus continued to clutch his stomach, attempting to stand, as he listened to the voice. The voice caressing him from the darkness, just outside his reach.

"It is a demon that is awakening inside of you. A demon without a Sire--someone to teach you control of the demon;control of the savage ways of Vampires."

"What do you want of me?" Severus whispered hoarsely above the agony coursing through him. He could feel the pull; the savage need to feed; but feed on...

"If you want to live this night, you must take a new Sire, for yours has abandoned you to your hunger. Without your Sire's guidance, you will go mad. It is...your choice."

Severus looked up as he saw bare feet come into his line of pain-filled vision. Legs encased in gold silk brocade lounging trousers and a matching floor-length, midnight blue tapestry silk robe opened to reveal a pale strongly muscled chest. He swallowed hard as his eyes traveled up the well-defined body to the angular face, and eyes the color of brilliant viridian.

Harold had desired this beautiful man ever since the first time he'd seen him perform, as a young man, in London . Each year his music became bolder and stronger. His powerful charisma drew souls to hear the music he played. The soulful melodies reached down into them, and brought them light or showed them darkness--whatever it was their heart needed at the time.

"I will guide you and train you, teach you our ways and how to live them, safe from those who would harm us. Do you accept this new life, and myself as your new Sire?" Harry's voice dropped as he whispered to the hungry new fledgling. "Will you yield control to me, and become my Childe?"

He listened to the voice and it's mesmerizing qualities, drawing him in, seductively, to join with this mysterious creature in front of him. The pull was strong and a quiet part of his mind spoke to him of the rightness of it, though he didn't understand...yet.

Until an elegant hand reached out and stroked his cheek, and touched his lips. A feeling of desire, longing, and completion coursed through his body at the contact.

"Yes." The word barely audible as it passed Severus' lips, his breath tantalizing those fingers.

"I must hear your answer clearly."

"Yes!"

Harry brought his free wrist up to his mouth, using his fangs, he opened a vein, letting his blood flow. Slowly bringing his wrist forward toward Severus, as the punctures began to bleed freely, he watched Severus' nostrils flare.

"Severus Snape, I accept you as my Childe. Drink of me. Become part of my clan."

Severus dropped to his knees beside the bed, at Harold's feet, clutching his wrist and bringing it to his lips. Sealing his lips over the wounds and prodding them with his tongue, he drank deeply, hungrily. The warm blood filled his mouth, his throat, and his belly. He felt energized, aroused. As he drank, he leaned against the hard body above him and felt the hard length under the golden silk. Finally full and satiated, he pulled away, and instinctively licked the wounds, closing them. Placing a kiss over the healed wounds, he slowly raised his eyes to the man who was now his Sire, as he sat naked at the Vampire Lord's feet.

Reaching up with steady hands, he pulled at the silk pants until they slid down, exposing the hardening flesh beneath. He rubbed his cheek against the rising hardness, then leaned back, with onyx eyes boring into emerald ones, he took his Sire's arousal down his throat in one smooth movement, savoring the taste mingled with the blood still on his tongue.

Strong gentle hands threaded through his long dark locks, as warm hips rocked under his own hands. "Be mindful of your fangs, my Childe."

Severus released his morsel slowly,running his tongue along the warm flesh, as he looked up at his Sire. He could feel the energy in the room as it danced and tingled along his skin. He wanted more. He ached to be claimed and controlled by this creature. He needed his body to sing, to be played like a fine instrument, by his Sire.

"Take me, Sire. Please."

Harry took one small step back, "Undress me," he ordered, his commanding voice low but laced with arousal.

Severus grasped the silk pants, pulling them down to pool around his Sire's ankles. He lifted each foot carefully, allowing him to free the silk trousers. Then rising slowly, his long fingers sliding up the silk robe, stopping at his Sire's shoulders, he pushed the garment back and off to pool around his feet.

Keeping his head down in a show of respect, he trailed his fingers down his Sire's well-defined arms as he studied the body in front of him from beneath lowered lashes. His Sire's body was as the statues he had admired in the museums of Europe. Athletic, defined musculature, lean, and perfectly proportioned. His skin was as pale as cream, and as soft as silk. The softest Asian silk stretched over sculpted marble. A fine dusting of dark hair covered the long legs and his forearms, which ended in elegant hands and feet. The broad chest was adorned with a fine curled dusting of soft hair that let in a vee to the small navel and onward to the triangle of thick curly hair that surrounded his Sire's manhood.

Letting his hands drop to his sides, he waited for his Sire's command. One of those elegant hands lifted to rest two fingers under his chin, lifting his head. His vision travelled along the graceful throat to rest upon the handsomely angular features. Eyes of deepest emerald framed in long thick sooty lashes watched him, as full red lips quirked in the slightest of teasing smiles, the barest tip of a fang peeking out. His Sire's face was framed with a tousled halo of ebony curls, giving him a deliciously playful appearance that belied the powerful and commanding gaze that met his own ebony eyes. Emerald burned into ebony; a desire to take and to bind; make him one with his Sire.

Lord Harold stared into the eyes of this man who had been the unknowing victim of an aberration of the darkness, left to drift blind and die painfully. But as the fates would have it, he had been guided to him, to take him and teach him the songs of the night; the music of the dark; an ancient joy. Running his fingers along the pale jaw, he slid his hand behind the long neck and cupped the back of his Childe's head, pulling him forward without breaking eye contact.

"Severus..." Harold whispered, his eyes flashing, as he covered Severus' mouth with with his own.

Severus melted into the enveloping embrace of his Lord, as his mouth was claimed, their lips crashing together, tongues dueling, tasting each other. He could sense a mingling of power and arousal surrounding him as his heart pounded and his breath quickened. The hunger was coming again, battling with the need to be claimed. His head was spinning, lost in the swirling maelstrom of sensations and overwhelming emotions.

Feeling the warmth of his Lord's lips leave him, he slowly opened his eyes as he felt a searing warmth covering him. As his vision focused, he realized he lay again in the massive bed, on his belly, the body of his Lord covering him as warm lips, tongue, and teeth teased his ear and the back of his neck. He could feel the ample arousal trapped between his thighs, as his own was pressed between his belly and the bed. Moaning with need, he wanted to turn over and wrap himself around this man, this maestro of the night, but something deep inside of him said he must be still.

"Tell me again, Childe, that you still want this." Lord Harold whispered in his ear, his voice silky and mesmerizing.

"Yes..." The word passed Severus' lips almost as a sob of pleading.

Harold placed one of his hands on Severus' hip, uttering something in an ancient forgotten tongue only used by those of the night. Placing his other hand on Severus' other hip, he lifted him to his knees as he aligned himself and sunk into Severus' body in one smooth yet powerful thrust. Severus cried out in surprise at suddenly being filled, but it quickly morphed into a moan, as Harold covered his back again, nibbling and sucking on his neck as he slid one hand up to Severus' chest, to tease and pluck at his nipples.

The thrusts began slowly, teasing and tantalizing, every sensation magnified more than Severus had ever experienced before. He pushed back, meeting each thrust, attempting to drive his Sire as deep into his body as possible. Harold chuckled into his ear as he increased the pace and force of his thrusts, causing Severus to moan loudly, as he repeatedly stroked across his prostrate.

Severus fisted his hands in the sheets and threw his head back, crying out at the overwhelming sensations bombarding him. So many emotions, sensations, and cravings were screaming at him at once. He wanted them to stop and to never stop. Harold sensed his inner turmoil. Wrapping an arm around Severus chest, he sat up on his knees, bringing Severus with him to straddle his lap, as he continued to thrust up into Severus' body.

Allowing himself to be pulled up, he let his head drop back onto his Sire's shoulder, baring his throat, as he again became lost in the melodic rhythm of their bodies moving together perfectly. Reaching up with one of his arms, he sunk his fingers into those ebony curls, as his other hand wrapped around the strong arm across his chest. He focused on meeting each upward thrust, as he felt Harold's other hand wrap firmly around his weeping erection, and begin to stroke firmly in time with the movement of their bodies. With each movement of his hips, his body sang a chorus. He could feel the crescendo building inside of him, feel it, waiting... Waiting for that moment.

It was almost time, Harold could feel it, sense it, smell it. The need to taste and claim curled heavily and strongly in his belly. Slowly, he leaned down and licked up that pale throat, feeling the strong pulse below the skin, as his fangs lengthened fully. Waiting just a moment longer, to further increase the pleasure for his Childe, he licked the flushed throat again, as he thrust harder, deeper, into Severus' body.

Leaning down, he barely whispered against the warm skin, "Severus Snape. You are my Childe. Now. And forever," before sinking his fangs deep into the jugular and drinking deeply as he thrust a final time into his Childe's body.

As his Sire's fangs pierced his skin and he felt the final pistoning thrust into his body, he screamed as his completion ripped through his body, totally overcome by the combined stimulus of his orgasm coupled with the sensuous vibrations of the bite claiming him. His Sire soon followed, biting down more firmly and sucking harder as he was filled with hot seed, his hips held down firmly enough to leave bruises.

As both men rode out the tremors assaulting their bodies, Harold slowly withdrew his fangs and licked the wounds to seal them. Continuing to hold Severus against his chest, he felt himself slip from his Childe's body, as he kissed up the long neck, turning Severus' head so he could take his mouth in a tender kiss of completion, letting him taste his own blood.

Laying them both down on the bed, he wrapped his body protectively around his newest Childe, pulling up the duvet to cover them, as they drifted off to sleep. The demon that dwelt within the Childe, was now under the control and guidance of his new Sire, Lord Harold Potter.

finis but it is ever???