Severus Snape did not run; running was undignified and usually a pointless expenditure of energy. It went without saying that Hogwart's cool, collected Potions Mater did not run anywhere when he was in the public eye. No, today, Severus was loping up and down Diagon Alley. Loping was an entirely acceptable alternative to running; it was graceful and smooth and, when done properly, a much more efficient method than running. So he loped, his strides even and consistent as he moved into and out of shops, weaving through the crowds of Sunday evening shoppers. The notice-me-not charm he had cast on himself so strong that the few individuals that caught a glance of him as he swept by found themselves inexplicably turning abruptly and hurrying off in the opposite direction.
He had been searching for hours now, had checked in every store, around every corner, down every back-alley. And although he was frustrated, irritated at the absence of even the faintest trail to lead him to his mate, he was not tired. His breathing remained even and slow, as he did not need to breath; his still heart was not rushing to bring oxygen to his tireless muscles. He longed to let his vampire out, his instincts were screaming at him to move with the speed unique to his race, to let out his fangs and claws and rip through all those who dared to step into his path. But he didn't. He pushed down his more basic impulses, pressing them stubbornly to the back of his mind. The vial of suppressant that he drank infallibly every hour on the hour did much to assist his self-enforced control.
When the sun finally dropped below the horizon and the pastel colours of twilight stretched across the sky Severus sat down on an empty wooden bench in front of a homey looking Inn. His rather potent concealment charm kept the many other loiterers from claiming the open seats that the rest of his bench presented; in fact, it prevented them from even wandering too close, giving Severus a wide berth as they meandered by. This suited Severus perfectly. He sat on the bench, his posture rigid, hands on his knees, back flawlessly straight, and for the second time in one day, he fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. He had searched for hours, looking for any trace: a scent, a glimpse, even a tingle from the bond would have served him well, but inevitably found nothing. His mate was either no longer here, or had not even been in the Alley in the first place. Severus scoffed at his folly, why had he dared to hope that he would find something today? After all these years of ignoring the call, what did he expect, that his mate would miraculously appear and welcome him with open arms? The inactivity of the link in his mind did little to improve his mood. He had no choice, without the suppressant he would not be able to control the vampire enough to be among so many people, yet because of the potion the link was clouded, the sensation deadened and numb.
The smells drifting from the open door of the Inn, The Gilded Sword, he noticed, reminded him that he had neither eaten (normal food) nor satisfied his thirst for much too long a period of time. 'The thirst will have to wait' he thought as he rose and entered the Inn. 'Preferably until I find my mate' his vampire added petulantly.
The inside of the establishment was cozy and warm. Severus stepped through the maze of tables and found an empty table for two pushed back against the wall in the far corner. The heat of the fire was pleasant, especially since he was always cold. He hadn't been truly warm in the last three hundred years. As he considered the specials written on a chalkboard hung over the bar he discretely removed the notice-me-not; it wouldn't do to drive people out of the room simply because he had decided to dine here.
"What can I get for you today Professor?" asked a kind looking older woman from the side of his table.
"I am not yet sure, I am torn between the Shepherd's pie and the 'Sunday Roast', which would you suggest?" Severus inquired, turning his gaze to the woman. She was short and wiry, her white hair, short and curly, was slightly disheveled, and her eyes moved constantly, glancing about the room, cataloguing what needed to be done next.
"Well, the roast, if I may say so myself, is quite lovely today, and the roasted potatoes are wonderful and fresh" she replied, smiling kindly, before turning her head for a momentary look at the stairs, yet again. At Severus' quirked eyebrow she continued, "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Alice Natly, my husband and I run this place" she gestured fondly around the room, "I cook the meals mostly myself. Personally, I'd take the roast; it's particularly tender this time."
"Then I will have the Sunday roast please, with a glass of red wine and some water as well" Severus smiled, just an upward twitch of the corners of his mouth, but he couldn't help it, this woman seemed so grandmotherly.
"Of course, that will be right out for you" Alice replied, writing down his order and whisking away to fill the water goblets of a table on the other side of the room. Severus sighed and sat back in his seat. The suppressant was wearing off and he would have to take another vial in a few minutes. But until then he closed his eyes and examined the connection, looking for any additional signs of damage or pain coming from his mate.
"Severus! You're here, Alice was right, I'm so glad." Severus' eyes flew open and he started, hearing Poppy Pomphrey's voice from behind him. "Do you have a moment? Would you come upstairs, I need your advice on something" she asked insistently, coming close to him and turning hopeful eyes to his black ones.
"Yes of course" he murmured softly, raising and following her up the staircase. The link in his mind gave a sharp twinge, reminding him that he had not yet taken his potion. As he followed Poppy down a hallway and around a corner he pulled a vial from one of his many pockets and swallowed the bitter liquid with a grimace. He really did have to find a way to make the stuff taste better. 'Well, if I had just claimed my mate all those years ago I wouldn't have to' his vampire reasserted itself in his mind, his instincts shifting restlessly.
A feeling of unease prickled over his skin when Poppy stopped outside a heavily warded door. The feeling increased as he examined the wards; these were not normal locking or silencing wards. These were wards used when a person could not control their own magic, or when someone was critically ill and even the slightest spell would be a danger.
He turned to Poppy, eyebrows raised in a silent question.
"I have a patient" she explained, leaning against the wall beside the door. "He's seventeen and has recently come into his creature heritage. I think that his mate has rejected him because his magic is steadily undoing all of the healing that he has had done over his life. I don't know what to do; I've never seen anything like this before." The Healer was definitely scared, her eyes wide and sad. Severus frowned. Poppy was well known for her professional detachment, for her to be so visibly shaken meant that she must care deeply about the boy in question.
"Alright, let me see him and I will try to find a potion that will ease his symptoms" Severus said, trying to reassure his colleague with his confident tone. Inside he was uncertain and puzzled. He too had never heard of such an occurrence. Poppy nodded and straightened, moving forward and taking down the wards then stepped back and ushered Severus in before her. Severus reached for the doorknob and slipped into the room with a building sense of dread. Something was terribly wrong in that room.
'Mate! Mine mate, mine, mine! Claim, save … hurt, mate hurt…protect…mine mate' Severus' mind exploded with the sound of his vampire's ecstatic screams. The boy in the bed, he could only see the top of his dirty blond head peeking out from under to heavy covers, this boy was his mate. Severus slumped heavily against the wall, ignoring Poppy's whispered questions of concern. He was immensely glad that he had taken the suppressant before entering the room, otherwise he would have burst into full vampire form and claimed what was his with no thought to the boy's injuries, or to the presence of the other two people in the room.
Two people. He turned his dark gaze on the other person in the room, in his mate's room; she had been alone with his mate. It was Alice. She wouldn't hurt his mate. He would kill her if she did, but she hadn't. Severus struggled through the confused fog in his mind.
"Professor?" Poppy's voice floated to his ears as though from a great distance. "Professor Snape, what is the matter?"
Snape swallowed and then swallowed again, shaking his head. "My mate, Poppy, the boy is my mate. I am having … trouble … resisting the pull" he said, even as his wildly dilating eyes turned back to the bed and he felt his hand reaching out, urging him to step closer.
"Oh, oh my, well then I guess that solves that problem" a flustered Alice stammered, "Come then Poppy, we should probably let the Professor meet his … er … mate … Perhaps it would be best if you gave him the potions he needs to take tonight?" Alice's last remark had been directed to Severus and he nodded dumbly, not really listening to her, as most of his attention was directed at not jumping onto the bed and claiming what was rightfully his.
"Severus, may I see you in the hall for a moment? I won't keep you long" Poppy asked softly when Alice had left the room.
"No" spat the dark haired man. "I will not leave" he said resolutely, his canine teeth lengthening and sharpening ever so slightly. Mate, mate, mate!
"In the washroom, just through here then" Madam Pomphrey bravely took her life in her own hands by taking Severus' arm and forcefully propelling him into the washroom. Leaving the door open a few inches to satisfy the vampire's need to keep his mate in sight she turned and glared up into the angry face that confronted her. "The boy is seventeen" she snapped, throwing up her hand to stave off any interruption. "He is an adult in our world, so if you claim him that is entirely your business." 'It certainly is' hissed the vampire in his mind, but Snape refrained from speaking the comment aloud. "He is broken and dying" Poppy forged on, "any activity beyond the gentlest of contact will have disastrous results. And this is not a wizard that our world can afford to loose" she concluded, frowning into Severus' dark eyes. She could see the barely contained vampire lurking in the swirling black depths and wondered, not for the first time, whether it was truly a good idea to leave the two alone.
"I will not hurt him, ever" Snape growled low in his throat at the insinuation that he might do something harmful to the other half of his soul, who was lying there on the bed. Then Poppy's last comment made it through the haze of obsession clouding Severus' brain. "Wait what do you mean 'our world can't afford to loose him'?" The Healer sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and leaned back on the vanity.
"What do you know about the Abeo Venefici?" she asked tiredly.
The question caught him off guard and it took Severus a moment to search the many dusty recesses of his mind to find the information that he needed. "The Abeo Venefici are a rare form of being, who can at will, manipulate magic unlike any other being that has ever existed. They are very rare though, I think that there is only one living right now." With his concentration turned to his colleague's unusual question, Severus' appearance became more human; his fangs withdrew and his eyes lost the depth and blackness that signified the vampire's presence. "Are you saying that my mate is an Abeo Veneficus?" he asked in wonderment. There was absolutely no way that he could be bonded to something so pure, to a being so fundamentally good.
"Apparently there are two living examples of the race at the moment because yes, the boy is one. But that is not my point. The boy has altered his appearance to protect himself from something or someone. I am not sure if you will take kindly to his identity." She regarded Severus worriedly, as though expecting him to retaliate in anger. Severus frowned deeply. He could feel that something was out of place with the very still form on the bed, but had assumed that it had to do with the boy's many injuries. Turning to look closely at what little of the blond head he could see, he closed his eyes and concentrated with all of his considerable mental power on the being in front of him. He could feel the damage on the body, could tell that the boy was barely hanging onto consciousness, and then he found it. The boy's magical signature was familiar; Severus had met this boy before.
Then it came to him. Potter. Potter was lying, hardly breathing on the bed; Potter was his mate. Poppy recognized the look of comprehension on his face and stepped forward to lend her support.
"I … we … We will deal with this later" said Snape, brushing off her hand and stepping back into the room. "I will not claim him, but the longer we are apart, the worse his condition will become." He didn't really know that, but prayed that the Healer would accept his dismissal. Luckily she did, and giving him one last searching look, she nodded her consent and slipped from the room. "Call if you have need" she said, closing the door softly behind him.
Severus stood in the center of the bedroom, and after charming the window blinds securely shut, he let his vampire out, completely. The scent was marvelous. He had never smelt anything so delectable. Like love and lust, the perfect food with the perfect wine, mixed in with the smell of fresh air and a cool wind. Mate. Severus stepped forward, hardly making a sound. He slipped out of his outer robe and shoes, leaving his black t-shirt and trousers on, and sat carefully on the bed.
Mate's breath, no, Harry's breath was shallow and rough, coming more in gasps than anything. Severus pressed himself closer, pulling the thick blanket down to reveal the sleeping face beneath. The face wasn't Potter… no, Harry's. But Severus could see the similarities, and running his fingertip over the now scar-free forehead, he secretly decided that he liked Harry's normal features much better. The heat of the boy's skin frightened him. He must have been running a temperature of at least 108 degrees Celsius. Severus frowned and quickly got up and slipped beneath the heavy duvet. He wrapped his arms securely around the burning form, loosing himself in the smell and the feel of his mate. It was so entirely right.
Mindful of Harry's many injuries, he pulled the boy closer, laying him over his chest, and nuzzled the top of the unruly hair. Just as the wonderful warmth of his mate began to lull him to sleep, Severus placed his hand on the back of Harry's neck, and felt the steady da dum, da dum, of the boy's heartbeat as his eyes slid closed.
* So here is chapter four, I hope that you liked it. I apologise for the ridiculous wait - to make up for it I'm posting the next three chapters all together. PLease forgive my forgetfulness. Just a note, the "Abeo Venefici" (pronounced "ab–E-oh Ven-ay-fee-key") are a race of creatures of my creation. The name comes from the (brutalized - sorry to all Latin speakers) Latin words Abeo, meaning "change", and Veneficus, meaning "magic". So anyways, please drop me a review :)
