Toxin. By Nkm.
Note: I've been meaning to write this sequel for a while, but there's been too many drafts that kept going off topic, expanding to pointless drivels. So I gave it one more attempt. It's better but not the best. Keep in mind, with DH, this is completely AU. I just couldn't resist it. Who wouldn't want to know more about venomous blood?
As before: Please ignore all grammar error. It'll be fixed eventually... Unless somebody wants to do it for me?
UPDATE: Extras and note at the bottom.
He always knew that the Potter brat would be the death of him.
It was pretty close too.
Blasted Potters.
Blasted Potters and their attempted murders.
Blasted Potter Senior's attempt with his werewolf.
Blasted Potter Junior's attempt with his venomous blood.
The first time was an accident; he'd admit that. The potion's assignment required one drop of the brewer's blood straight into the cauldron. More than one drop would be tremendously explosive. Everybody but Potter had done that particular step.
He, being the potions professor, stood over Potter to ensure he didn't blotch it. He, being head of the Slytherin House, didn't count on Malfoy to take the opportunity to push Potter towards his knife, to make the cut bigger, to make extra drops of blood fall into the cauldron.
The good news was that Malfoy's attempt failed. The extra blood didn't land into the cauldron, thanks to Potter's reflexes.
The bad news was that it landed on him instead.
Normally, it wouldn't have been a big deal. There was enough potions stains on his black robes that an extra drop of blood wouldn't have matter.
It shouldn't have.
It really, really shouldn't have.
If it wasn't for the fact that the blood was so acidic that it was eating away at his robes.
At an incredibly fast past.
That almost ate his skin.
All from one drop of Potter's blood.
It should have reminded him about that particular detention and the deadly discovery. However, in all the excitement from the disintegrating robes on the floor, keeping students away and yelling at both Potter and Malfoy for their lack of brains, it never came to him.
In retrospect, he subconsciously rationalized the event with a bottle of acid that was on everybody's table, as part of the potion.
That should have been his second clue. Potters and reason never went together.
Maybe it would have been better if he had been irrational, blaming all and nothing on Potter. It would have definitely been true. At least, that way, he could have remembered all the times Potter's blood was also used since his second year.
He did eventually remember one incident with Potter's blood.
After both Potter and he was captured, chained and tortured by the Dark Lord.
He blamed Potter and his heroics.
He blamed Dumbledore and his orders.
He blamed himself and his non-existing heart.
Or so he told himself.
Either way, they'd been in Riddle Manor for the past hour. It shouldn't have been so bad. He was used to pain, to torture, to everything within the Dark Lord's fancy.
However, he wasn't used to witnessing the Dark Lord skipping around Potter as he made little cuts all over the boy, only to lick it up and then share it with Nagini.
He, as a Deatheater and spy, had endured many scenes and events that would make anybody ill.
But this was just sick!
For Merlin's sake, this was Potter! Who in the world would want to lick his blood?
He paused at that thought.
His fans probably would, just to have a piece of the Boy-Who-Lived in them.
Again, disgusting.
Even more so when the Dark Lord offered to give him a lick. Thankfully, he decided to be greedy and changed his mind, keeping the blood to himself and his snake. Revolting.
On the other hand, Potter, despite the torture, was still snarling at the Dark Lord.
Correction: Potter was still hissing insults at the Dark Lord, as far as he could tell.
One particular sequence of hisses and spits had both the mad man and Nagini paused as they pondered at the possibility.
He hoped to never find out what that particular insult translated to.
Back to the matter at hand...
"You know, Potter, it was your blood that aided my second rise," said the Dark Lord as he leaned in for another lick. He shuddered at the sight.
Hiss.
"And it will now aid me once again, especially with your death."
Hissss hiss.
"Really, that is entirely, not to mention anatomically, impossible."
Hiss.
"But I do love the taste of your blood."
Hiss hiss hiss.
"That too. But this would go so well with--urk!"
The world paused as the Dark Lord paused in his sentence. Both Potter and I stared at the creature who was just contemplating the taste of the brat's blood. Yet, for the longest minute, nothing happened.
He sorely wanted to poke him, but he was still chained up.
Potter, in the same situation but a lot closer to the frozen man, blew at him like one does to a house of cards.
The Dark Lord fell like said cards.
So did Nagini.
He stared at Potter as he stared back, both silently asking the same question.
What in the name of magic?
As he said, in retrospect, he should have remembered about the blood after witnessing his robes disintegrate. Then again, he should have also wondered about the possibilities immediately after Potter had served that particular detention. However, the incredibility from both events numbed his brain, not that he would ever admit it.
So here he was, in his rooms with a glass of Firewhiskey in his hand, as he mentally solved the Potter Jig-Saw Puzzle.
Potter's blood with Basilisk venom and Phoenix tears, now immune to all other snake venoms.
It was acidic, especially to his potion robes and probably his skin if he hadn't been fast enough. It also melted glass vials and silver knives, as both were found at the grave site when he searched yesterday.
Also poisonous to all others, especially if ingested or contacted with your own blood. He witnessed two deaths a week ago. Pettigrew had been missing shortly the Dark Lord's revival. The rat should have used a clean knife, instead of one that had just touched toxic blood. Not that he knew.
Nagini was only a cobra, a powerful one but nowhere close to a basilisk. Even drinking her venom had not helped the Dark Lord for once. Then again, in his opinion, drinking Nagini's venom with unicorn blood was a bad idea to begin with.
He snorted into his drink as he realized that Potter was the deadliest human alive, literally.
Then he spitted out his drink when he remembered how close he was to drinking said boy's blood, offered by a certified megalomaniac who was now pushing up daisies.
Instead of death by the Dark Lord, it was almost death by the Boy-Who-Lived.
He always knew that the Potter brat would be the death of him.
He made a mental note to himself to leave any room that Potter enters.
He made a second mental note to create an antidote first before following the first note.EXTRA #1
It's been six months.
It's been six really tiring, exhausting, complicated and mind-numbing two months.
Yes, he didn't really care if he was repeating himself. It's that bad.
He knew glass vials would melt, so he'd reinforced it. It didn't work; the entire thing was ruined within ten minutes. Next, he special ordered a different set of glass vials "guaranteed" to withstand basilisk venom. It lasted twenty minutes. Then there was the cast iron bowl. One minute. Muggle's stainless steel. Two minutes. He even tried dragon scales in desperation. Poof.
Third note to self: Never mix Potter's Blood with dragon scales. The resulting fumes were too toxic. Loss: two guinea pigs and five rats.
So he turned towards the brat's guilty conscience to stand over the cauldron and cut his finger whenever blood was needed.
The silent truce lasted fifteen minutes. The clean potions lab lasted one hour. He believed Lupin won both betting pools.
Then, both tried meeting each other again once a week for fresh blood. Unfortunately, a duel appeared even faster each time as weeks passed.
So here he was, working silently on--hopefully--a working antidote while Potter laid on a table beside him, stupefied for the past month.
He'll just invoke the brat's guilty conscience again.
At least he'll be immune to all stunning spells; they barely work on him anymore.
Total loss in counting: one boa constrictor, two toads, fifteen guinea pigs, fifty-three rats, eighty-nine mice and a partridge that suddenly appeared in the pear tree.
EXTRA #2
It didn't work.
No matter how hard he tried or ran, it didn't work.
He should just move to Australia and take his chances with an inland taipan instead.
Instead, he was being chased by Potter who wanted to know why he, who had finally made a successful antidote to his blood, would run away from him.
"Wait up! Please!"
There was no way he was stopping and getting close to that toxic blood, not even for a million galleons. Those six months of experimenting with it was more than enough. Besides, money was no use when dead.
"This isn't about all those stunning spells! I'm already over that!"
He snorted to himself. Yes, he would have to be over that, after releasing seven death threats, eleven howlers and thirteen traps that involved a werewolf.
"I just need to tell you something!"
Ha, as if he would ever believe that.
"I love you!"
Severus Snape woke up with a start, franticly looking around him to make sure Potter was no where nearby. Ten minutes later, he had finally stopped shaking but he would have to take a shower to get rid of the sweat. After double checking the wards to ensure they were untouched, he made a promise to himself to move to Australia anyway. Even if that nightmare would never happen, the way Potter was chasing him in reality was too similar to him to handle.
Note: No, there will be no more sequels, only because I personally think I will go insane if I attempt to do so. However, if somebody else would like to expand on this, please, you're welcomed to do so. Just let me know so I can read it!