Chapter 4: Restitution and Consumption
"Professor," Draco hissed, staring at the body of his father. "Perhaps we should be moving along."
Severus Snape forced his mind to form logical thought patterns, looking away from the girl.
"Right," he told Draco. "Where do you keep the floo powder?"
Draco moved to a small table beside the elaborate fireplace and returned to Snape's side with a small black box, intricately
carved. He opened the lid and offered it to the Potions Master. Snape shook his head.
"You go first. Hogwarts."
The younger man nodded and set the box back in it's place on the table, taking a pinch of the silvery powder that was inside.
He stepped to the fireplace and threw the powder in, clearly stating his destination. He then stepped in and promptly vanished,
broomstick and all.
Snape turned back to the figure of the girl and took in what he was seeing. Her hair, which had once been long and flowing,
was now cut short and sticking out at odd angles. She looked wholy unhealthy, almost dead. 'She is dead, really,' Snape
reminded himself. Still, she was thin, paler than pale, her cheeks were sunken in and the only thing that seemed alive about
her were her eyes. The dark brown orbs were staring at him with lividity. He made a move to step towards her.
"If you think," her voice cut off his movements, sharp and scathing. "for one second that I'm even halfway considering the
possibility of going anywhere with you, you're more twisted and deranged than I thought."
"Lye," he said, resorting to her old nickname in hopes of soothing her. "We can't stay here. It's too dangerous."
She scoffed. "Dangerous? Dangerous, Severus? You seem to forget who you're talking to, and besides - you just effectively
slaughtered the only thing dangerous in this house. Unless you count me."
The murderous look hadn't left her eyes, and Snape noticed a hunger mixed in with it. Not, he also noted, a sexual hunger in
any way. From the look of her she probably hadn't fed in quite some time and it looked like he was going to be dinner. For
some reason, however, she held herself back.
"Look," Lyeta continued in a cold voice. "You go wherever the fuck you want, but count me out. Consider this meeting a warning.
If I ever come across you again, you can be sure you'll have bigger problems than a pathetic dark wizard."
Her sneer rivaled Snape's usual one and he was taken aback. In the two years he'd known the girl she never seemed to have a
vicious bone in her body. Now, it seemed, even her phalanges could've devoured him whole. This in mind, it would seem that
Snape was having a moment of mental retardation as he lunged forward and grabbed her around the waist. Despite her threats,
her arms were still bound by magic. She hissed at him as he pinched some floo powder from the box and threw it into the fire.
"Hogwarts," he said as clearly as he could, and stepped into the fire with Lye in tow. He tried to ignore her vehement curses
as they swirled through a ring of green flame.
------------
Snape and prisoner tumbled forward out of the fireplace into his familiar dungeon rooms. Draco was sitting calmly on the black
leather couch, with only the slightest hint of confusion crossing his features as his Potions Master rolled onto the rug along
with one of his late father's prisoners.
The professor got up and dusted off his deep black cloak, taking it off and placing it over one of the armchairs with a slight
nod at Draco, who returned the gesture, seemingly prefering not to speak at the moment. Snape then diverted his attention to
the girl on the floor.
She glared up at him, no, both of them with such animosity as Snape had rarely seen directed his way. He wondered idly for a
moment if this is how most of his pupils saw himself, and if so, he could understand their fear. His mind quickly slipped back
into nostalgia, and he remembered the way she used to look at him. Adoring, caring, loving even. Always that playful glint in her
eyes. The person on the floor was not the girl he had fallen in love with by most accounts.
"Excuse me," she interruped his thoughts. Her tone did not suggest she expected to be excused, however. "If you could tear
yourself from whatever the hell it is you're musing over, do you think you could get me the fuck off this floor?"
Snape extended a hand without speaking and she just glared more. Was it possible for her to look more hateful, he wondered.
Then he realized why she was glaring at him so intently; her arms were still bound. Not trusting her to not attack him just
yet, he instead gripped her shoulders and moved her to one of the armchairs. The glare did not cease.
"Where the fuck are we?," she demanded.
"Hogwarts." Her eyes showed no recognition, so he added," School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I work here now."
She laughed. It was a cold, mirthless sound, and Snape was once again reminded of how different she was. Her laugh never
sounded like that before.
"You? A teacher?," she stated in disbelief. "I'd hate to be one of your students."
Draco shifted uneasily in his seat at these words.
"Uhm, Professor?," he addressed Snape, a bit more subdued that usual.
"What?," Snape spat at him, sounding harsher than he meant to. The night's events were definately taking a toll on him. Draco
almost flinched and Snape almost felt bad.
Draco had a million questions he wanted to ask - Why had Snape killed his father to save this woman? Why did this woman seem to
know Snape so well? Why did they see it fit to bring him back to Hogwarts? He didn't voice any of these questions, though. He'd
long learned that interrupting a conversation like this one could be...painful.
"I'm rather tired," Draco lied, instead. "Perhaps I could, er, find somewhere to sleep?"
Snape nodded. "Go see the Headmaster first, I'm sure he'd be most interested to see that you've arrived. He will direct you to
where you are to stay."
Draco didn't need to be told twice. With a final nod to his professor, he left the room as quick as decency would allow. Both
Snape and Lye watched him go. When he was gone, Lye turned back to Snape.
"I see my presumptions about your students wasn't far off," she stated. Snape didn't answer, he was standing above her with his
arms crossed over his chest and a bit less than the usual venom in his expression. Lye shifted - sitting on her hands wasn't
exactly comfortable.
"Why did you bring me here?," she finally continued after a moment of silence.
"If I had left you at Malfoy's, you would have been killed. The Dark Lord would undoubtedly be made aware of the death of one of
his followers."
"At the hands of another one of his followers," she added. "Besides - he already tried that once, remember?"
Snape winced at her first comment. 'Discreet operation, indeed,' he thought. He looked over the vampire in his armchair and,
despite his better judgement, he took out his wand and freed her arms. Dying at the hands of her could be no worse than dying
at the hands of Voldemort, he figured.
Lyeta flexed her wrists to make sure they were in working order, then looked up at Snape. "What time is it?"
"Two or so, I imagine," he replied.
"Right. I'm out of here in that case."
She rose from the chair but was promptly pushed back into it by Snape. She glared up at him.
"You're not going anywhere. You're in danger."
"Not as much as you, especially if I stay here. Besides, I'm hungry...and you're not exactly an appetising snack," she offered
a fake but saccharine-sweet smile. "So if you don't mind..."
She rose again, only to be pushed down again. Despite the fact that he actually -wanted- her to stay there, which he was loath
to admit, he could just see the end results of letting her go. Finding McGonnagal, Hagrid, or even Filch for that matter, dead
in the hallways and drained of all their blood was not something he looked forward to.
Lye made a sound of clear annoyance. "Look, Severus, if you're keeping me here in some hope of rekindling the burning flame of
romance" - she sounded very sarcastic at this point - "I can assure you it's a lost cause. If you're really keeping me here
because you think I'm in danger, I can also assure you that I can take care of myself. That...thing...you work for isn't
concerned with my kind anyway."
"If I may remind you," Snape replied, ignoring the romance remark. "He seemed rather interested in you before."
"And if *I* may remind *you*, that was your fault in the first fucking place. I don't see how keeping me with you would put me
in any less danger than letting me go."
Snape sighed resignedly and lowered himself onto the recently vacated couch. "I can't protect you - that much was already proved.
However, this castle is about the only place that is safe from Voldemort."
She smirked. "Oh, I see. I suppose that's why you're here. Not up to facing the Lord you ran from, huh?"
Outraged at her mocking tone, Snape was off the couch again in a second and glaring down at her. "Woman, you have no idea what
you're talking about and it would do you good not to try to mettle in my affairs and keep your unruly mouth shut!"
Snape suddenly remembered the only time he'd ever used that much force in speaking to her before. Memories came flooding back
of himself yelling at her. 'How could you have kept this from me?,' he was yelling. 'I trusted you, only to find out you're a...
a...an overgrown mosquito!'At that time, his voice had made her submit and nearly come to tears, finally choking out that he should
'fuck off and die' before he made his grand exit. He wasn't expecting much better of a response, but he was hoping for some of
that submissive nature to return.
Lye just kept smirking. "I suppose I should be running and hiding now, shouldn't I? Well you know something, Severus? Any power
you might have had over me you gave up years ago. I'm not scared of you anymore, and furthermore, I don't give a damn what would
do me good. Spending nearly eight years in Malfoy's dungeon wasn't exactly good for me, either, you know?"
Nothing doing. She wasn't the least bit humbled by his tone,and he was again suprised with hers. Snape groaned inwardly...eight
years?
"I thought you were dead," he sputtered. "I would have had no way, in any case, to -"
She cut him off. "Oh, come off it, already. Even if you had known I was alive, you wouldn't have tried to do shit for me. I saw
you at that fucking meeting, standing there all emotionless, watching that bastard rape me. Didn't try to help me then, did you?
Weren't quite as fucking chivalrous as you were tonight, huh?"
She was standing now, glaring up at the taller man with malice clearly written in her eyes. It took a lot for Snape not
to back down from her peircing gaze, but he didn't. She was right, of course, he hadn't done anything. His 'position' as a
DeathEater had prevented him from doing anything, and he was still bitter about her not telling him the whole truth. It was
stupid, but he remembered as well that he was not the one who'd been jilted. She had every right to be mad.
Lost in his memories for the upteenth time that night, Snape didn't notice her movement until after the fact. Quick as a flash,
her hands had seized his shoulders and he felt razor-sharp fangs cutting into his neck. The pain only lasted a moment, and Snape
found that he could not have pushed her away even if he wanted to. The feeling following the pain was relaxing, warming, and
almost erotic. He closed his eyes and his brain was blissfully blank as Lye continued to be latched onto his neck and drain the
blood from his body.
He was wrong, he realized, when he'd thought that dying at the hands of Voldemort would be anything like dying at the hands of
a vampire. He raised his hands and placed them tentatively on her hips, feeling like he might collapse if he didn't have something
to hold onto, and rather just wanting to touch her as well.
Snape barely had time to register the fact that he wasn't dead as she pulled away and pushed him roughly to the floor. Still a bit
dazed, he looked up at Lye. She had a bit of blood - his blood - on her lips, and she was once again glaring icily at him. He
wondered how she could retain that expression after something so intimate had obviously just happened. She shook her head, looking
down at him malevolently.
"I fucking hate you."
----------
*A/N* I'm not so sure about vampires in the HP world so the vampires in my world act how I think they should. So, they look like
humans, can't go out in the sun, and don't have to kill their victims to feed off of them. Don't like it? Don't care. That is All.
"Professor," Draco hissed, staring at the body of his father. "Perhaps we should be moving along."
Severus Snape forced his mind to form logical thought patterns, looking away from the girl.
"Right," he told Draco. "Where do you keep the floo powder?"
Draco moved to a small table beside the elaborate fireplace and returned to Snape's side with a small black box, intricately
carved. He opened the lid and offered it to the Potions Master. Snape shook his head.
"You go first. Hogwarts."
The younger man nodded and set the box back in it's place on the table, taking a pinch of the silvery powder that was inside.
He stepped to the fireplace and threw the powder in, clearly stating his destination. He then stepped in and promptly vanished,
broomstick and all.
Snape turned back to the figure of the girl and took in what he was seeing. Her hair, which had once been long and flowing,
was now cut short and sticking out at odd angles. She looked wholy unhealthy, almost dead. 'She is dead, really,' Snape
reminded himself. Still, she was thin, paler than pale, her cheeks were sunken in and the only thing that seemed alive about
her were her eyes. The dark brown orbs were staring at him with lividity. He made a move to step towards her.
"If you think," her voice cut off his movements, sharp and scathing. "for one second that I'm even halfway considering the
possibility of going anywhere with you, you're more twisted and deranged than I thought."
"Lye," he said, resorting to her old nickname in hopes of soothing her. "We can't stay here. It's too dangerous."
She scoffed. "Dangerous? Dangerous, Severus? You seem to forget who you're talking to, and besides - you just effectively
slaughtered the only thing dangerous in this house. Unless you count me."
The murderous look hadn't left her eyes, and Snape noticed a hunger mixed in with it. Not, he also noted, a sexual hunger in
any way. From the look of her she probably hadn't fed in quite some time and it looked like he was going to be dinner. For
some reason, however, she held herself back.
"Look," Lyeta continued in a cold voice. "You go wherever the fuck you want, but count me out. Consider this meeting a warning.
If I ever come across you again, you can be sure you'll have bigger problems than a pathetic dark wizard."
Her sneer rivaled Snape's usual one and he was taken aback. In the two years he'd known the girl she never seemed to have a
vicious bone in her body. Now, it seemed, even her phalanges could've devoured him whole. This in mind, it would seem that
Snape was having a moment of mental retardation as he lunged forward and grabbed her around the waist. Despite her threats,
her arms were still bound by magic. She hissed at him as he pinched some floo powder from the box and threw it into the fire.
"Hogwarts," he said as clearly as he could, and stepped into the fire with Lye in tow. He tried to ignore her vehement curses
as they swirled through a ring of green flame.
------------
Snape and prisoner tumbled forward out of the fireplace into his familiar dungeon rooms. Draco was sitting calmly on the black
leather couch, with only the slightest hint of confusion crossing his features as his Potions Master rolled onto the rug along
with one of his late father's prisoners.
The professor got up and dusted off his deep black cloak, taking it off and placing it over one of the armchairs with a slight
nod at Draco, who returned the gesture, seemingly prefering not to speak at the moment. Snape then diverted his attention to
the girl on the floor.
She glared up at him, no, both of them with such animosity as Snape had rarely seen directed his way. He wondered idly for a
moment if this is how most of his pupils saw himself, and if so, he could understand their fear. His mind quickly slipped back
into nostalgia, and he remembered the way she used to look at him. Adoring, caring, loving even. Always that playful glint in her
eyes. The person on the floor was not the girl he had fallen in love with by most accounts.
"Excuse me," she interruped his thoughts. Her tone did not suggest she expected to be excused, however. "If you could tear
yourself from whatever the hell it is you're musing over, do you think you could get me the fuck off this floor?"
Snape extended a hand without speaking and she just glared more. Was it possible for her to look more hateful, he wondered.
Then he realized why she was glaring at him so intently; her arms were still bound. Not trusting her to not attack him just
yet, he instead gripped her shoulders and moved her to one of the armchairs. The glare did not cease.
"Where the fuck are we?," she demanded.
"Hogwarts." Her eyes showed no recognition, so he added," School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I work here now."
She laughed. It was a cold, mirthless sound, and Snape was once again reminded of how different she was. Her laugh never
sounded like that before.
"You? A teacher?," she stated in disbelief. "I'd hate to be one of your students."
Draco shifted uneasily in his seat at these words.
"Uhm, Professor?," he addressed Snape, a bit more subdued that usual.
"What?," Snape spat at him, sounding harsher than he meant to. The night's events were definately taking a toll on him. Draco
almost flinched and Snape almost felt bad.
Draco had a million questions he wanted to ask - Why had Snape killed his father to save this woman? Why did this woman seem to
know Snape so well? Why did they see it fit to bring him back to Hogwarts? He didn't voice any of these questions, though. He'd
long learned that interrupting a conversation like this one could be...painful.
"I'm rather tired," Draco lied, instead. "Perhaps I could, er, find somewhere to sleep?"
Snape nodded. "Go see the Headmaster first, I'm sure he'd be most interested to see that you've arrived. He will direct you to
where you are to stay."
Draco didn't need to be told twice. With a final nod to his professor, he left the room as quick as decency would allow. Both
Snape and Lye watched him go. When he was gone, Lye turned back to Snape.
"I see my presumptions about your students wasn't far off," she stated. Snape didn't answer, he was standing above her with his
arms crossed over his chest and a bit less than the usual venom in his expression. Lye shifted - sitting on her hands wasn't
exactly comfortable.
"Why did you bring me here?," she finally continued after a moment of silence.
"If I had left you at Malfoy's, you would have been killed. The Dark Lord would undoubtedly be made aware of the death of one of
his followers."
"At the hands of another one of his followers," she added. "Besides - he already tried that once, remember?"
Snape winced at her first comment. 'Discreet operation, indeed,' he thought. He looked over the vampire in his armchair and,
despite his better judgement, he took out his wand and freed her arms. Dying at the hands of her could be no worse than dying
at the hands of Voldemort, he figured.
Lyeta flexed her wrists to make sure they were in working order, then looked up at Snape. "What time is it?"
"Two or so, I imagine," he replied.
"Right. I'm out of here in that case."
She rose from the chair but was promptly pushed back into it by Snape. She glared up at him.
"You're not going anywhere. You're in danger."
"Not as much as you, especially if I stay here. Besides, I'm hungry...and you're not exactly an appetising snack," she offered
a fake but saccharine-sweet smile. "So if you don't mind..."
She rose again, only to be pushed down again. Despite the fact that he actually -wanted- her to stay there, which he was loath
to admit, he could just see the end results of letting her go. Finding McGonnagal, Hagrid, or even Filch for that matter, dead
in the hallways and drained of all their blood was not something he looked forward to.
Lye made a sound of clear annoyance. "Look, Severus, if you're keeping me here in some hope of rekindling the burning flame of
romance" - she sounded very sarcastic at this point - "I can assure you it's a lost cause. If you're really keeping me here
because you think I'm in danger, I can also assure you that I can take care of myself. That...thing...you work for isn't
concerned with my kind anyway."
"If I may remind you," Snape replied, ignoring the romance remark. "He seemed rather interested in you before."
"And if *I* may remind *you*, that was your fault in the first fucking place. I don't see how keeping me with you would put me
in any less danger than letting me go."
Snape sighed resignedly and lowered himself onto the recently vacated couch. "I can't protect you - that much was already proved.
However, this castle is about the only place that is safe from Voldemort."
She smirked. "Oh, I see. I suppose that's why you're here. Not up to facing the Lord you ran from, huh?"
Outraged at her mocking tone, Snape was off the couch again in a second and glaring down at her. "Woman, you have no idea what
you're talking about and it would do you good not to try to mettle in my affairs and keep your unruly mouth shut!"
Snape suddenly remembered the only time he'd ever used that much force in speaking to her before. Memories came flooding back
of himself yelling at her. 'How could you have kept this from me?,' he was yelling. 'I trusted you, only to find out you're a...
a...an overgrown mosquito!'At that time, his voice had made her submit and nearly come to tears, finally choking out that he should
'fuck off and die' before he made his grand exit. He wasn't expecting much better of a response, but he was hoping for some of
that submissive nature to return.
Lye just kept smirking. "I suppose I should be running and hiding now, shouldn't I? Well you know something, Severus? Any power
you might have had over me you gave up years ago. I'm not scared of you anymore, and furthermore, I don't give a damn what would
do me good. Spending nearly eight years in Malfoy's dungeon wasn't exactly good for me, either, you know?"
Nothing doing. She wasn't the least bit humbled by his tone,and he was again suprised with hers. Snape groaned inwardly...eight
years?
"I thought you were dead," he sputtered. "I would have had no way, in any case, to -"
She cut him off. "Oh, come off it, already. Even if you had known I was alive, you wouldn't have tried to do shit for me. I saw
you at that fucking meeting, standing there all emotionless, watching that bastard rape me. Didn't try to help me then, did you?
Weren't quite as fucking chivalrous as you were tonight, huh?"
She was standing now, glaring up at the taller man with malice clearly written in her eyes. It took a lot for Snape not
to back down from her peircing gaze, but he didn't. She was right, of course, he hadn't done anything. His 'position' as a
DeathEater had prevented him from doing anything, and he was still bitter about her not telling him the whole truth. It was
stupid, but he remembered as well that he was not the one who'd been jilted. She had every right to be mad.
Lost in his memories for the upteenth time that night, Snape didn't notice her movement until after the fact. Quick as a flash,
her hands had seized his shoulders and he felt razor-sharp fangs cutting into his neck. The pain only lasted a moment, and Snape
found that he could not have pushed her away even if he wanted to. The feeling following the pain was relaxing, warming, and
almost erotic. He closed his eyes and his brain was blissfully blank as Lye continued to be latched onto his neck and drain the
blood from his body.
He was wrong, he realized, when he'd thought that dying at the hands of Voldemort would be anything like dying at the hands of
a vampire. He raised his hands and placed them tentatively on her hips, feeling like he might collapse if he didn't have something
to hold onto, and rather just wanting to touch her as well.
Snape barely had time to register the fact that he wasn't dead as she pulled away and pushed him roughly to the floor. Still a bit
dazed, he looked up at Lye. She had a bit of blood - his blood - on her lips, and she was once again glaring icily at him. He
wondered how she could retain that expression after something so intimate had obviously just happened. She shook her head, looking
down at him malevolently.
"I fucking hate you."
----------
*A/N* I'm not so sure about vampires in the HP world so the vampires in my world act how I think they should. So, they look like
humans, can't go out in the sun, and don't have to kill their victims to feed off of them. Don't like it? Don't care. That is All.