Inhibitions
Chapter 3
It was like a gift from whatever God was watching out for him. With the rusty keys in his hand, and the protective ring on his finger, he was twelve years old again. The castle was his candy shop, and he had a sack full of galleons.
The fact he was a vampire prince, and the sad truth he would forever be hunted by people he once called friends.all of this left him at such a golden opportunity.
He was not alone in this. Severus Snape was a vampire too. Dumbledore liked Snape, and Dumbledore must have known what Snape was. Harry still had thousands of questions, but it was all a bit more bearable now that he knew everyone wouldn't shun him. Dumbledore and Snape would still treat him just as they had before.
Snape. The man was a complete mystery. Harry couldn't tell some fantastic, heroic story where he and Snape had been forced to work together against Voldemort, saving each other's lives and building a life long friendship. No, it was much blander than that. One day, he just woke up, and realized he didn't hate Snape anymore. He didn't like the man by any stretch of the imagination, but the childish grudges he'd carried for years had sneakily evaporated on him. Severus Snape was just a teacher he had that got his kicks by making students suffer.
Truthfully, Harry Potter had a million other people he had much better reason to fear. It just seemed like a waste of energy to be intimidated by the not-so-scary potion master.
So, that morning, when he'd passed Snape in the hallway, he'd given him a little smile and said good morning. The effects were humorous. Snape had watched him like a hawk for days, certain that he should be expecting something nasty to come his way. And much to the man's confusion, it never did.
And there Harry was, standing in the forgotten castle of the most mysterious man he'd ever known. He looked at the keys with a mischievous smile lighting his face. Snape's castle would make for an excellent adventure.
He poked around the study a bit before he set off. Most of the books were on the Dark Arts. He found a photo album tucked under a massive pile of dusty volumes. Inside of the album he found something that genuinely shocked him. Childhood pictures of Severus Snape. And here Harry thought he'd been born with thirty years on him and a scowl on his face.
The pictures all moved to show a quiet little boy that never smiled at the camera, but didn't scowl. As Harry flipped the ancient pages, Severus seemed to grow before his eyes. Just as he was about to place the book back, a photo fell to the ground. It was extremely worn, as though someone had rubbed the picture right off it. It was a picture of Severus as a three- year-old. He was smiling shyly, holding a lizard that was longer than his chubby little arm. He looked like he was having the time of his life. Harry tried to put the picture back, but it seemed as though he couldn't quite follow through. Deciding not to waste time to figure out his motive, he slipped the photo into his pocket.
He continued to poke around in the study, not really expecting to find anything else of interest, when a particular book caught his eye. As if drawn to it, he reached to pull it off the shelf.
It didn't come off the shelf; rather it tipped downwards and caused the bookshelf to swing open. Harry practically giggled in excitement. Now he was really getting somewhere. Since he had no idea where his wand was, he lit a candle and pocketed a few more of them. Armed with his flickering light, he entered the pitch-black staircase that wound down into utter nothingness.
Harry should have been frightened, but thankfully, he seemed to lack that certain trait. The candle illuminated a few feet in front of him, to show the curved staircase beneath his feet. After he was too far down to prevent it, the bookcase closed behind him. Too overcome with curiosity at what he might find at the bottom of the stairs, he paid the bookcase no heed and continued downwards.
Finally, the stairs dead-ended. A small mahogany door, the wood so dark it appeared black, greeted him. The doorknob was a small ivory skull with its tiny mouth forming the keyhole. Harry tested the knob, surprised when it swayed open on silent hinges.
"Must be nothing interesting in here if Snape didn't even lock the door." He spoke aloud, holding up the candle to shine some light on the interior of the room. He couldn't see very far, but he noticed a torch hanging on the wall. He used his candle to light it and in a few seconds the room was flooded with light.
He had been wrong. It was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. He didn't know how he knew, but he did.
He was in Snape's bedroom. Everything was covered in a layer of dust with the exception of the bed. The bed looked neat and ready to be slept in. All the wood was black, the satin sheets were black, and the floor was black marble. Harry had never seen a room completely void of color. The dresser was slightly open to reveal hanging robes.all in Snape's customary black.
Harry didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he shed his outer robe. It was a dark blue one, a bit ripped and stained after the night's activities. He casually draped the robe over the desk chair. Then, with no respect whatsoever for Snape's privacy, he peeked in every drawer and even looked under the bed.
He was disappointed in his searching. Not only did the older man not have a stash of naughty sex toys and porn, but he didn't have anything that gave away even a hint of who the man inside the robe really was. Before he left, Harry lit the fireplace. He knew where he'd be coming back to sleep that night.
During the next couple of hours Harry saw some amazing things. Severus Snape, or one of his ancestors, had an amazing art collection that even impressed a non-patron like Harry. He saw a painting by Rembrandt and didn't doubt for a second that it wasn't the original. There was an impressive library, one that shot thirty feet into the air and had windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. The moonlight shone through them and made the silvery marble floor glitter and sparkle. The kitchens rivaled the ones at Hogwarts, though there were no friendly house elves in sight. There was something that resembled a refrigerator. When Harry opened it, he found wine bottles filled with sluggish liquid that looked suspiciously like blood, so he closed it quickly and continued his exploration.
The millions of guest bedrooms were nothing special. He poked his head in eight or nine of them, then became bored with the guest halls. He wished he would have another spot of luck and stumble upon some kind of hidden staircase or forgotten door. All his nerves were tingling with the excitement. It was like he was walking through a real haunted house. He kept expecting blood to seep out from under a doorframe, or a dark stranger to catch him unawares.
But, as he knew deep down, the house contained no such monsters. In fact, Harry would have guessed a werewolf lived in the house rather than a vampire. Occasionally, he would come across deep gouges in the walls, and dried blood on the ceilings and floors. He thought back to hours before, when he'd had his out of body experience and observed as his newly awakened body tore at the people.
Perhaps a vampire could do just as much damage as any crazed werewolf. He distinctly remembered some vicious claws sprouting from his hands.
Harry, finally tiring of his searching, leaned against the wall to rest for a moment.
"Well, well, well. Who do we have here? Slinking around the halls late in the night. You aren't some of Severus' prey are you?" A voice asked in a silky baritone. Harry spun around in an instant, coming level to level with a smirking portrait.
The painted figure was bathed in shadows, sitting in an armchair by a curtained window. A slivering shaft of moonlight blazed across his gleaming eyes, shapely nose, and gleaming fangs. The man stood slowly from his chair, moving to the front of the painting and eyeing Harry up and down.
"I'm not prey. I'm Harry, his.student." Harry coughed a bit nervously, bringing a hand up to politely block it. The painting's eyebrows arched in surprise as he noticed the ring.
"Student? Don't you mean master, your majesty?" The painted man queried. Harry looked confused for a moment, and then shook his head in denial.
"I'm not.you see.I'm just." Harry started. He couldn't say he wasn't vampire royalty. He was. But did that make him Severus Snape's master?
"You are his master, and his prince. As you are not the High Prince, the only thing you cannot ask of him is his life. But anything else, he must do for you." The painting told him. Harry mused over that for a moment in his head. It was funny really, in a weird sort of way. What would he make Snape do?
The idea of himself being fanned by Snape in a loincloth made him snicker uncontrollably.
Woah. Sudden thought. Did all this apply to.sexual favors? For six years, Snape had taken every opportunity to make him angry and uncomfortable. What if, just once, he messed with Snape's mind?
The look on the bat's face when he told him to kiss him would be a moment he would remember for years. And then longer.
Harry eventually made it back to Snape's bedroom. He had been up for hours, and his body was beginning to slow down. Snape's monstrous bed looked like heaven. He extinguished all the torches, turned the fireplace down low, and crawled into the cavern of bed sheets.
Severus Snape was exhausted. For two days, Harry Potter had been missing. Dumbledore was convinced Voldemort had him, and that he was withholding information from him. Voldemort was convinced Dumbledore had done something with him, and that he was withholding information from him. And in the midst of all the frantic searching, wild newspaper articles, and chaotic spying, the High Prince had summoned him.
Although Severus played many sides, his loyalty belonged to his High Prince. Everything else came second. Dumbledore knew this, and respected it, but the older wizard was not happy when Severus had told him he was leaving the Potter search to meet with the High Prince. Severus suspected that Dumbledore thought he was sneaking around behind his back. He had not seen such disappointment in Dumbledore's eyes when directed towards him for years.
So, all in all it had been a bad day. He was exhausted, and had never looked forward to going home as much as he was.
He left Hogwarts, and as he went he received suspicious stares from everyone with eyes. No matter how many times he proved his loyalty to them, they immediately pointed their fingers at him when something went wrong.
But it was no matter. With out him, they'd all be dead. Including Harry Potter.
The boy was hardly deserving of the Adonis like body he flaunted around with. He was still an immature eleven-year-old boy in mind, always thinking about himself and constantly seeking attention from those around him.
Well, he didn't always demand attention. He was rather shy in class, but he was certainly a show off on the Quidditch pitch.
'What are you saying, Severus? That just because he's Harry Potter he shouldn't be allowed to pursue his talents? Does a little quidditch fame make him the egotist you strive to paint him as?'
Inner voices were pesky and annoying.
He apparated to the outer grounds of his castle, quickly weaving his way up the path to the back door. When he was a few feet away, the voice of the High Prince spoke in his mind. Severus was fond of telepathic techniques. They had saved his life many a time.
Severus, glad you made it. We will discuss things in the morning, get some rest. The voice of the High Prince ordered gently, fading out of his mind like a rippling wave. Severus shook his head briskly a few times to clear his mind again before he quietly entered the house.
It was dark, but his vampire eyesight gave him perfect vision. Besides, this was the home he had grown up in. He could have found the way to his bedroom without any of his senses in working order. He ascended the stairs two at a time, and reached the study quickly. Two of the chairs were sat in. Who had come with the High Prince?
Shrugging off the question as one that would be answered on the morrow, he carefully pulled the book that triggered the lever. The bookshelf slid open easily, revealing the winding black staircase behind the shelf. Practically dead on his feet, (no pun intended) he descended the stairs.
His bedroom was completely black. He was too tired to light the torches, and didn't want the heat anyway, so he merely shrugged out of his outer robe, kicked off his shoes, and slid into bed. It was out of character for him to be so inattentive to details, but if he couldn't drop his vigilance in his own bedroom then when could he? He just wanted a good night of sleep.
His eyes were closed before he even hit the pillow. Literally dead to the world, probably because he hadn't fed in over two weeks, his senses were far too weak to alarm him that he was sleeping beside someone.
Harry smiled slightly in his sleep and curled up against the new warm pillow.
A/N:
Well, there you guys go! I need help though! I have a basic idea for where I'll take this story if I don't get any other suggestions, but if you have your own idea, PLEASE TELL ME! I've come across a bit of writer's block. So, perhaps you could dip into your jars of creativity and spare me some extra, huh?
Anyway, next and far more important:
Review Replies!
Sylvanus Snape - You are so on my good list. Wow, you've reviewed like all my stories. I'm glad you like Harry's gramps. I'm always nervous about original characters of any kind, but that made me feel tons better! And, yes, he does have a name. I just haven't thought of it yet, lol. He'll probably just be 'High Prince' until I can get my hands on a baby name book.
Katy999 - I made the intro up. One day I'm going to write a book on modern wizardry, because I'm completely full of that kind of crap.
Helen - Don't hurt yourself, buddy. Here it is, though I can't guarantee that innocent animals weren't harmed during the creation of this lil sucker.
Dark Hikari Kamiya - Yeah, I read the masquerade. I don't have anyone to play it with though : ( I love the ventrues, but they won't have much to do with the story. I might incorporate the Worym (or however you spell it) as some kind of affiliate with Voldemort though, glad you liked it too.
Too everyone else: BIG THANKS!!!! *gives everyone who reviewed Severus Snape tote bags*
Chapter 3
It was like a gift from whatever God was watching out for him. With the rusty keys in his hand, and the protective ring on his finger, he was twelve years old again. The castle was his candy shop, and he had a sack full of galleons.
The fact he was a vampire prince, and the sad truth he would forever be hunted by people he once called friends.all of this left him at such a golden opportunity.
He was not alone in this. Severus Snape was a vampire too. Dumbledore liked Snape, and Dumbledore must have known what Snape was. Harry still had thousands of questions, but it was all a bit more bearable now that he knew everyone wouldn't shun him. Dumbledore and Snape would still treat him just as they had before.
Snape. The man was a complete mystery. Harry couldn't tell some fantastic, heroic story where he and Snape had been forced to work together against Voldemort, saving each other's lives and building a life long friendship. No, it was much blander than that. One day, he just woke up, and realized he didn't hate Snape anymore. He didn't like the man by any stretch of the imagination, but the childish grudges he'd carried for years had sneakily evaporated on him. Severus Snape was just a teacher he had that got his kicks by making students suffer.
Truthfully, Harry Potter had a million other people he had much better reason to fear. It just seemed like a waste of energy to be intimidated by the not-so-scary potion master.
So, that morning, when he'd passed Snape in the hallway, he'd given him a little smile and said good morning. The effects were humorous. Snape had watched him like a hawk for days, certain that he should be expecting something nasty to come his way. And much to the man's confusion, it never did.
And there Harry was, standing in the forgotten castle of the most mysterious man he'd ever known. He looked at the keys with a mischievous smile lighting his face. Snape's castle would make for an excellent adventure.
He poked around the study a bit before he set off. Most of the books were on the Dark Arts. He found a photo album tucked under a massive pile of dusty volumes. Inside of the album he found something that genuinely shocked him. Childhood pictures of Severus Snape. And here Harry thought he'd been born with thirty years on him and a scowl on his face.
The pictures all moved to show a quiet little boy that never smiled at the camera, but didn't scowl. As Harry flipped the ancient pages, Severus seemed to grow before his eyes. Just as he was about to place the book back, a photo fell to the ground. It was extremely worn, as though someone had rubbed the picture right off it. It was a picture of Severus as a three- year-old. He was smiling shyly, holding a lizard that was longer than his chubby little arm. He looked like he was having the time of his life. Harry tried to put the picture back, but it seemed as though he couldn't quite follow through. Deciding not to waste time to figure out his motive, he slipped the photo into his pocket.
He continued to poke around in the study, not really expecting to find anything else of interest, when a particular book caught his eye. As if drawn to it, he reached to pull it off the shelf.
It didn't come off the shelf; rather it tipped downwards and caused the bookshelf to swing open. Harry practically giggled in excitement. Now he was really getting somewhere. Since he had no idea where his wand was, he lit a candle and pocketed a few more of them. Armed with his flickering light, he entered the pitch-black staircase that wound down into utter nothingness.
Harry should have been frightened, but thankfully, he seemed to lack that certain trait. The candle illuminated a few feet in front of him, to show the curved staircase beneath his feet. After he was too far down to prevent it, the bookcase closed behind him. Too overcome with curiosity at what he might find at the bottom of the stairs, he paid the bookcase no heed and continued downwards.
Finally, the stairs dead-ended. A small mahogany door, the wood so dark it appeared black, greeted him. The doorknob was a small ivory skull with its tiny mouth forming the keyhole. Harry tested the knob, surprised when it swayed open on silent hinges.
"Must be nothing interesting in here if Snape didn't even lock the door." He spoke aloud, holding up the candle to shine some light on the interior of the room. He couldn't see very far, but he noticed a torch hanging on the wall. He used his candle to light it and in a few seconds the room was flooded with light.
He had been wrong. It was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. He didn't know how he knew, but he did.
He was in Snape's bedroom. Everything was covered in a layer of dust with the exception of the bed. The bed looked neat and ready to be slept in. All the wood was black, the satin sheets were black, and the floor was black marble. Harry had never seen a room completely void of color. The dresser was slightly open to reveal hanging robes.all in Snape's customary black.
Harry didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he shed his outer robe. It was a dark blue one, a bit ripped and stained after the night's activities. He casually draped the robe over the desk chair. Then, with no respect whatsoever for Snape's privacy, he peeked in every drawer and even looked under the bed.
He was disappointed in his searching. Not only did the older man not have a stash of naughty sex toys and porn, but he didn't have anything that gave away even a hint of who the man inside the robe really was. Before he left, Harry lit the fireplace. He knew where he'd be coming back to sleep that night.
During the next couple of hours Harry saw some amazing things. Severus Snape, or one of his ancestors, had an amazing art collection that even impressed a non-patron like Harry. He saw a painting by Rembrandt and didn't doubt for a second that it wasn't the original. There was an impressive library, one that shot thirty feet into the air and had windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. The moonlight shone through them and made the silvery marble floor glitter and sparkle. The kitchens rivaled the ones at Hogwarts, though there were no friendly house elves in sight. There was something that resembled a refrigerator. When Harry opened it, he found wine bottles filled with sluggish liquid that looked suspiciously like blood, so he closed it quickly and continued his exploration.
The millions of guest bedrooms were nothing special. He poked his head in eight or nine of them, then became bored with the guest halls. He wished he would have another spot of luck and stumble upon some kind of hidden staircase or forgotten door. All his nerves were tingling with the excitement. It was like he was walking through a real haunted house. He kept expecting blood to seep out from under a doorframe, or a dark stranger to catch him unawares.
But, as he knew deep down, the house contained no such monsters. In fact, Harry would have guessed a werewolf lived in the house rather than a vampire. Occasionally, he would come across deep gouges in the walls, and dried blood on the ceilings and floors. He thought back to hours before, when he'd had his out of body experience and observed as his newly awakened body tore at the people.
Perhaps a vampire could do just as much damage as any crazed werewolf. He distinctly remembered some vicious claws sprouting from his hands.
Harry, finally tiring of his searching, leaned against the wall to rest for a moment.
"Well, well, well. Who do we have here? Slinking around the halls late in the night. You aren't some of Severus' prey are you?" A voice asked in a silky baritone. Harry spun around in an instant, coming level to level with a smirking portrait.
The painted figure was bathed in shadows, sitting in an armchair by a curtained window. A slivering shaft of moonlight blazed across his gleaming eyes, shapely nose, and gleaming fangs. The man stood slowly from his chair, moving to the front of the painting and eyeing Harry up and down.
"I'm not prey. I'm Harry, his.student." Harry coughed a bit nervously, bringing a hand up to politely block it. The painting's eyebrows arched in surprise as he noticed the ring.
"Student? Don't you mean master, your majesty?" The painted man queried. Harry looked confused for a moment, and then shook his head in denial.
"I'm not.you see.I'm just." Harry started. He couldn't say he wasn't vampire royalty. He was. But did that make him Severus Snape's master?
"You are his master, and his prince. As you are not the High Prince, the only thing you cannot ask of him is his life. But anything else, he must do for you." The painting told him. Harry mused over that for a moment in his head. It was funny really, in a weird sort of way. What would he make Snape do?
The idea of himself being fanned by Snape in a loincloth made him snicker uncontrollably.
Woah. Sudden thought. Did all this apply to.sexual favors? For six years, Snape had taken every opportunity to make him angry and uncomfortable. What if, just once, he messed with Snape's mind?
The look on the bat's face when he told him to kiss him would be a moment he would remember for years. And then longer.
Harry eventually made it back to Snape's bedroom. He had been up for hours, and his body was beginning to slow down. Snape's monstrous bed looked like heaven. He extinguished all the torches, turned the fireplace down low, and crawled into the cavern of bed sheets.
Severus Snape was exhausted. For two days, Harry Potter had been missing. Dumbledore was convinced Voldemort had him, and that he was withholding information from him. Voldemort was convinced Dumbledore had done something with him, and that he was withholding information from him. And in the midst of all the frantic searching, wild newspaper articles, and chaotic spying, the High Prince had summoned him.
Although Severus played many sides, his loyalty belonged to his High Prince. Everything else came second. Dumbledore knew this, and respected it, but the older wizard was not happy when Severus had told him he was leaving the Potter search to meet with the High Prince. Severus suspected that Dumbledore thought he was sneaking around behind his back. He had not seen such disappointment in Dumbledore's eyes when directed towards him for years.
So, all in all it had been a bad day. He was exhausted, and had never looked forward to going home as much as he was.
He left Hogwarts, and as he went he received suspicious stares from everyone with eyes. No matter how many times he proved his loyalty to them, they immediately pointed their fingers at him when something went wrong.
But it was no matter. With out him, they'd all be dead. Including Harry Potter.
The boy was hardly deserving of the Adonis like body he flaunted around with. He was still an immature eleven-year-old boy in mind, always thinking about himself and constantly seeking attention from those around him.
Well, he didn't always demand attention. He was rather shy in class, but he was certainly a show off on the Quidditch pitch.
'What are you saying, Severus? That just because he's Harry Potter he shouldn't be allowed to pursue his talents? Does a little quidditch fame make him the egotist you strive to paint him as?'
Inner voices were pesky and annoying.
He apparated to the outer grounds of his castle, quickly weaving his way up the path to the back door. When he was a few feet away, the voice of the High Prince spoke in his mind. Severus was fond of telepathic techniques. They had saved his life many a time.
Severus, glad you made it. We will discuss things in the morning, get some rest. The voice of the High Prince ordered gently, fading out of his mind like a rippling wave. Severus shook his head briskly a few times to clear his mind again before he quietly entered the house.
It was dark, but his vampire eyesight gave him perfect vision. Besides, this was the home he had grown up in. He could have found the way to his bedroom without any of his senses in working order. He ascended the stairs two at a time, and reached the study quickly. Two of the chairs were sat in. Who had come with the High Prince?
Shrugging off the question as one that would be answered on the morrow, he carefully pulled the book that triggered the lever. The bookshelf slid open easily, revealing the winding black staircase behind the shelf. Practically dead on his feet, (no pun intended) he descended the stairs.
His bedroom was completely black. He was too tired to light the torches, and didn't want the heat anyway, so he merely shrugged out of his outer robe, kicked off his shoes, and slid into bed. It was out of character for him to be so inattentive to details, but if he couldn't drop his vigilance in his own bedroom then when could he? He just wanted a good night of sleep.
His eyes were closed before he even hit the pillow. Literally dead to the world, probably because he hadn't fed in over two weeks, his senses were far too weak to alarm him that he was sleeping beside someone.
Harry smiled slightly in his sleep and curled up against the new warm pillow.
A/N:
Well, there you guys go! I need help though! I have a basic idea for where I'll take this story if I don't get any other suggestions, but if you have your own idea, PLEASE TELL ME! I've come across a bit of writer's block. So, perhaps you could dip into your jars of creativity and spare me some extra, huh?
Anyway, next and far more important:
Review Replies!
Sylvanus Snape - You are so on my good list. Wow, you've reviewed like all my stories. I'm glad you like Harry's gramps. I'm always nervous about original characters of any kind, but that made me feel tons better! And, yes, he does have a name. I just haven't thought of it yet, lol. He'll probably just be 'High Prince' until I can get my hands on a baby name book.
Katy999 - I made the intro up. One day I'm going to write a book on modern wizardry, because I'm completely full of that kind of crap.
Helen - Don't hurt yourself, buddy. Here it is, though I can't guarantee that innocent animals weren't harmed during the creation of this lil sucker.
Dark Hikari Kamiya - Yeah, I read the masquerade. I don't have anyone to play it with though : ( I love the ventrues, but they won't have much to do with the story. I might incorporate the Worym (or however you spell it) as some kind of affiliate with Voldemort though, glad you liked it too.
Too everyone else: BIG THANKS!!!! *gives everyone who reviewed Severus Snape tote bags*