A/N: Well, you have myniephoenix to thank for this chapter – I got the review, and just wanted you guys to know that the story isn't dead, it's just been sleeping. Lamia is mostly still asleep, although I do have a few more chapters up my sleeves. Until next time folks!
Lamia - Chapter 8 -Consumption Resumption
Snape prowled around his office in the dungeons, snatching jars containing different coloured glutinous liquids from the shelves and rattling boxes containing the dry components for his potion from the cupboards. Ingredients were tossed onto the desk in a haphazard fashion and Snape cursed under his breath when one of the jars rolled off the desk and onto the floor, smashing into glittering pieces that pointed sharply towards the ceiling. The contents of the jar evaporated on the floor in a small puff of purple smoke and Snape stopped pacing and walked over to the smashed jar. He knelt to the side of it, and picked up one of the larger pieces of the jar.
The glass shard seemed to smile wickedly at him, daring him, as if it had a will of its own, and a malicious intent towards anyone that crossed its path. Snape stood, walked over to his leather-bound high-backed chair and sat, staring at the shard. Slowly, without quite realising it, he hitched the sleeve covering his left arm up, and transferred his gaze from the glass shard to the dark mark burned into his forearm. The mark was shaped like a skull and had a snake coming out of the mouth, as if it were a grotesque tongue. Snape's eyes surveyed his arm. There were other marks on it, as well as the Dark Mark he had been given. These other marks were not given to him by someone else. They were made by his own hand. Most of them were deadly straight, parallel next to each other, pale in colour, old scars. But a few curved cruelly in semi-circles, evil grins for evil times. At one time these had been his favourites, it was harder to draw a perfect semi-circle, and these had been an accomplishment. Of sorts.
Snape sighed. What was he doing here? Looking at his old scars, holding the glass shard loosely in his hand. He didn't need this. He hadn't done this for a long time. Just because the Dark Mark was burning hotter and hotter as time went on, didn't mean he should resort to his old methods of coping. He was past that. He was a professor now. For a wild moment, Snape contemplated grinding the glass shard into the Dark Mark on his arm. The Mark that wasn't his. The Mark that he hated the most. The Mark that made him hate himself more than any other. He could scratch it out, get rid of it, be free. But Snape knew he couldn't do that. It wouldn't work. The Mark was protected. He'd tried scratching it out before, tried to get to the skin underneath the Mark, but it seemed that the Mark was etched into his very soul. It was enchanted to heal the skin and come back clearer than ever before. It also told the Dark Lord, Master of the Dark Mark, what had happened. Snape remembered clearly facing the Dark Lord last time he'd tried to destroy the Mark. He'd had to answer for his disloyalty, painfully. After that, despite what he'd told Lord Voldemort, Snape had sought out the only person who had ever offered support and understanding, the only person he knew who didn't judge people based on what house they were in, or their blood-line, or their past actions. He'd sought out Dumbledore, and turned spy.
Shaking his head abruptly, as if clearing it from his thoughts, Snape threw the glass shard towards the bin, and spectacularly missed. The shard skidded past the bin, and fled under the shelving unit.
"And that is why you were never in the Quidditch team, Severus" said a voice from the doorway.
"Lucius!" said Snape, startled. He inwardly cursed himself for drifting off into his own thoughts, what if Lucius had been a student, and had seen his arm! "How long have you been standing there?" said Snape, turning away in his seat and yanking down the sleeve of his robes.
"Long enough to see you pondering something stupid, Severus. You can't do that again, you know that don't you. He'd kill you this time, Merlin knows he nearly did last time you scraped half your arm off with that blade you used to carry," responded Lucius, stepping into the room, and closing the door.
"It wasn't half my arm, you're being dramatic. It was nothing, really… just a scratch… or two…"
"Yes, well. It was foolish. And I hope you're not planning a repeat of that. I have great plans for you and me, but first, I think you know why I'm here," said Lucius.
"More pills? Draco was here earlier on too. My supplies are running low, I'll have to make some more"
"Draco was here? How was he?"
"Not good, he's getting through the Ondolin too quickly. If I were you I'd be worried. If they aren't working anymore, he's going to need blood to get enough oxygen into his system. And you and I both know a hormonal, desperate, blood-thirsty, teenage Vampire is not going to be able to maintain cover in Hogwarts for long if he starts biting everyone he sees," replied Snape.
In an instant, Lucius drew his wand and blasted Snape backwards to the wall. "He is NOT a Vampire! He is my son, and he is of the highest order, he is a Lamia, his line is longer and older and much more superior to yours, and when the war comes, Severus, I hope you remember that, and I hope you remember your place in the food-chain."
Snape stayed on the floor where he had fallen. Blood seeped from the back of his head, and he felt momentarily dizzy.
"I don't think I shall be collecting any Ondolin today, thank you Severus. Instead, I'd much rather we resumed our old relationship. You do remember that don't you? Come here…" ordered Lucius Malfoy, his wand outstretched.
Snape felt himself pulled towards Lucius and was caught in an embrace. Lucius had sheathed his wand, and gently, as with a lover, he tilted Snape's head to one side, and nuzzled into his neck. The veins in Snape's neck stood out prominently and he felt two pinpricks as Lucius sank his teeth in and began to drink.
A/N: So, that was chapter 8, hope you liked it. Please review!