A/N: The response to the last chapter was a little mediocre compared to the others … so I'm wondering whether there was something wrong with it. Obviously I love getting good reviews but if you think I'm doing something wrong, I want to know! Otherwise we might as well give up and spend our time doing something else. But it has been a long time since the last chapter, so if you're at all annoyed, which is unlikely, I apologise deeply and with a graceful, much overdone bow.

Warnings: This chapter is dark, and explicit in some ways, so please, if you don't like that stuff, get out. Although I suppose you have endured the last four chapters, so you're probably all right.

BLOODLUST Chapter 5

Draco.

Draco.

Harry stared wide-eyed and shocked, into the empty grate of the common room. His hands were curled and stiff over the arms of the chair, and his back was arched and tense. He did not know how many hours he had been in this position: four, five, maybe. His muscles screamed at him to move, to relax, to sleep. He could not breathe without pain, and his head throbbed. Doing nothing was certainly wearisome.

The rest of the day after that Potions lesson had been a vague shadow he could not remember. How he had fought the depression until now he could not remember. Why Ron and Hermione were not at his side, trying to persuade him to release, he could only guess. Perhaps they knew everything. Perhaps they were no longer his friends.

Draco.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps Draco knew too.

Harry's already tensed body jumped. Perhaps he knows. Perhaps they were no longer lovers.

The guilt and confusion might have been bearable had it not been for the last twelve hours. The wondering, the desperate torn state, feeble and sobbing attempts to wrench his mind away from –

No.

He dragged his eyes away from the dark fireplace, forced himself to lean back into the cushions, and passed a hand jerkily across his face. Had anyone been in the common room that night?

Midnight. Midnight with no plans for slumber.

Severus.

'No.' Harry's voice was groggy, and he could not summon the effort to shout, but there was an anguished determination in it that made him shiver. He smiled grimly. It is a terrible life you lead when your own voice makes you cold.

Severus.

'Oh, God,' he murmured. His limbs were beginning to shake violently in fatigue.

Harry, you have to get out. Get out, do something … find a way to sleep.

Wormwood and asphodel. Draught of the Living Dead. Potions, dungeons … Severus.

He let his mind rest on the concept for a few seconds. Draco … what have I done?

Then he set his chin. 'Do I have any other choice?' he asked the darkness. Severus would be in bed. The dungeons would be deserted. He had his Cloak. He had done this before. Five minutes down to the dungeons. It was inevitable that Severus … Snape … would know who was responsible, but he would not have the courage to investigate it.

Or are you underestimating Severus Snape?

'No,' he said again. 'I'll go.' He waited a full minute more, then suddenly he was upright, feet dancing on the floor, dodging the cold of the stone, in the dormitory, Cloak in his hand and then out of the portrait hole.

To desire a teacher … a teacher whom he was supposed to hate, whom he did not want … to betray his lover and enjoy it … what could be worse?

Now he was faced with the possibility that the affair with Draco was not right, that he should be with Severus, illicit and exciting and so experienced. Severus' charms were not difficult to find, once you had tasted his lips. But Draco … was the labour of nighttimes to be wasted? Had they spent so much sweat in loving each other that there was nothing more to be done?

The Living Dead was starting to sound very attractive.

The door to the dungeons was unlocked, which surprised and cautioned Harry. Severus was not a careless man. He would have no reason to leave his territory open to the world. But Harry dismissed the matter almost immediately. He did not care. He opened the door, and walked into the dark laboratory.

Unless he's not in bed.

Harry tensed as he felt what he realised immediately had always been inevitable.

'Don't sneak, Potter, just take what you need and go.'

The cry did not slip from Harry's mouth. He was too weary to jump. He merely removed the Cloak, murmured in a broken voice to his wand, and waited for the yellow glow to light Severus' face, tall and cornered. 'Draught of the Living Dead,' he explained briefly, coldly, then turned away before he could react to seeing Severus again. Perhaps it would be this easy. Perhaps he could pretend.

'Asphodel and wormwood.' Severus' eyes were still dark and tunnel-like, but at the same time sad, full of bitter self-mocking. His voice was tired, but the richness of it that had haunted Harry that evening was still there, and it chilled him.

Harry quietly went into the stores and took a small bottle, neatly labelled in parchment and brown ink, enveloping black liquid. Then he paused, calculated his route across the classroom so he could both reach the door quickly and avoid Severus. The Cloak would come in useful … except he had left it at the door. So Severus would see him leave.

'Potter … Harry.' Severus formed the word reluctantly, but there was a sigh in the 'H' and resignation in the last syllable.

Harry walked out of the stores and faced Severus, face impassive, eyes bored and burning, daring him to try.

'I would not … I would not wish for things to be uneasy between us.' Severus met Harry's eyes quickly and then looked away.

Suddenly Harry laughed. He laughed for minutes, finding nothing amusing but trying to frighten. 'Snape, look what you've done to me. You're perverted … you're a beast. You made me do things I would never do. I don't want you. I've as good as ruined a … a happy relationship. I can't look my friends, or my teachers, in the eye. I'm so ashamed I want to rip my skin off.' His voice grew softer. 'Look what you've done to me.'

Severus snapped his head up, eyes narrowed. 'Do you think,' he asked in a harsh voice, 'that it was my fault? My fault, everything? And you, and … whoever it is … ruined … didn't you do that too? You accepted me; briefly, yes, but you did. You moaned. What did you think you were doing if you're saying this now?'

Harry brushed off the truth of Severus' words easily, letting the anger wash over him, but some of the shame infiltrated, and he became defensive. He protested: 'Snape¾'

'Don't,' Severus snarled. 'Think about what I've said, boy. It's true. You ruined the relationship between yourself and Malfoy. It's your fault too.'

Harry stared, aghast. How could he know it was Draco? 'You - you know?' And now it was true, and he groaned in anguish as he realised the reality of what Severus had said. And with a shock he discovered that he still thought Severus, not Snape, but Severus, and he groaned again, and let tears fall.

Severus watched him wrestle with the guilt for a time, and then nodded slowly. 'Not the most pleasant of emotions, is it?' he remarked casually, cynically, and Harry's sobs grew stronger, and he threw himself down onto the floor, crying furiously.

Eventually he quieted, and sat still against a desk. It was hopeless. Nothing seemed as pleasure any longer.

A stab of vulnerable awareness pierced his mind, and he suddenly realised how alone he felt. He let his head rest back to the hard wood, and rubbed it with his hair, relishing its substance. Oh, would that I were a bird with guiltless wings. 'I've lost my family,' he murmured, 'I've lost my friends … I've lost my teachers.'

Severus shifted slightly, moved his feet. 'Not … not all your teachers.' His voice was tentative and uncertain, but there was no mistaking the affection. 'I'm here … I'll always be there. You don't have to stay at Hogwarts.'

Harry looked at him. 'Snape … Severus … you're too old … you … you …' His voice trailed off.

The red glow was back in Snape's eyes.

As Harry watched him, eyes unblinking, a mouse playing dead, Snape's mouth widened into a leering grin. 'Harry Potter.' He raised his right hand, and slowly placed it over his crotch. 'Harry …'

'Severus …' Harry tried desperately to say something that could prevent the madness returning, 'Severus, it's not real, remember the hematite, the neutral, you're being fooled again, it's madness, bloodlust, neutral, hematite!'

Snape's grin twisted slightly. 'Bloodlust … blood. Yours.' He purred softly, a growl of adolescent kittens. 'Come to me, Harry Potter.' He removed his hand and extended it towards Harry. 'Come and kiss me.'

Suddenly, without warning, he strode to Harry and pulled him up against the desk, hands on his shoulders. 'Kiss me, Harry, go on …'

'Hematite,' Harry whimpered helplessly as Severus' mouth covered his, 'neutral.' He was dead. There was no possibility of escaping now. Snape would rape him. And torture him. And kill him. The hematite was too far.

And so was Draco. And suddenly the love that swelled his veins burst, and he realised that he and Draco were finished, and the unjustness of it all gave him spirit. He forced his knee up into Snape's crotch, and the tall man jumped slightly but then renewed his incarceration of Harry's mouth with a snarl.

Right.

Harry braced himself, assessing, letting Snape's lips bruise his while he thought. Yes … there was no other way. And so he forced his hand down to Snape's trousers and pressed on the false hardness there, intent on giving as much pleasure as he could, as quickly as he could.

Snape groaned, and then again, and Harry knew he was succeeding. He opened his mouth, let the ruthless tongue in, while caressing and unbuttoning Snape's trousers with his limited fingers. His thoughts were blurred and pictured, not clearly conceived with precision, but the jumping of ideas that favoured him. He had to seduce the man. Even in his madness, he had to seduce him.

The groans grew louder, and the tongue stronger, and suddenly Harry realised that he was aroused. The madness had not taken away his physical desire, and now he was feeling the effects. His factual knowledge seemed to have no influence now, not when he was in the power of the experienced, the alluring. Now he wanted to escape, but he wanted to stay. Wanted to leave, wanted to have. 'Severus …' he moaned between the kisses.

Then a hissing voice spoke through the gloom. 'Harry … Potter.'

Severus immediately spun towards that voice, and the darkness pulled him to the floor where he whispered: 'Master.'

And Harry, pale and swollen-lipped, looked into the eyes of Lord Voldemort.

*****

A/N: I'm sorry if anyone got pissed off with me, seeing as this took so long, I know it has been a while. But I did get writer's block. Sniff. Anyways, I would love reviews if you're offering them … please?