author: Lucinda
contains Severus Snape/Drusilla pairing, mention of past-tense Spike/Dru
sixth in the 'Brave Snake' series
for teens and older readers, due to sexuality, emotional issues, possible violence, and Drusilla.
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to Severus Snape (property of JK Rowling) or Dru (property of Joss Whedon).
distribution: Twisting, OADNT, Paula, Jen & Cat if they want, anyone else please ask first.
note: AU post season 5 BtVS, AU post book 3 for Harry Potter.
Severus Snape enjoyed the dungeons, and he enjoyed the precise creation of potions. He took pride in being a Potions Master, a thing which had not changed with his health. Another thing which had not changed was his loathing of the typical student.
Unfortunately, the student now hovering in the doorway was not one of the many typical students at Hogwarts. Harry Potter was many things, but typical wasn't the first word to mind about him. Of course, the mortal that he'd been had loathed Harry because he had been the son of James Potter. As an odd change, the vampire that he had become merely considered Harry to be yet another student who seldom paid sufficient attention to his lessons.
"What brings you to my lair, Potter?" He didn't even look at the boy, instead slowly stirring two spoonfuls of powdered cobra fangs into the potion.
"It was Dumbledore's idea, sir." Potter sounded nervous, but fairly respectful. He'd always held a good opinion of Dumbledore.
"A great many unusual things are his ideas," slowly, he increased the heat of the mixture, wanting it to steam, but not bubble. The rolling boil would spoil the potency, resulting in a rather weak and ineffective poison.
"He said that Voldemort might have a connection to me, through my scar," Potter's voice was angry now. "That he might be able to look into my thoughts."
"So what was the proposed solution?" Severus glanced up, noting the clenched fist of the boy before him. "Somehow, I doubt that he meant for me to poison you, though it would prevent Voldemort from reading your mind."
For a moment, Harry faltered, and then he slowly stepped into the dungeon. "He said that you should teach me Occulomancy. That if I learned that, nobody could look into my thoughts."
"An over-simplification," he sneered, mostly from habit. "Occulomancy is a method to shield your thoughts, a means of creating a barrier. But there is no barrier known to man that can not be breached with sufficient force."
"Will this help?" Harry rubbed at the scar on his forehead, and murmured, "I can hear him at night, whispering. I can't make out the words, but I know they're something horrible. Sometimes, he's glaring at people, and then they... he watches as the Death Eaters kill them. I don't want to watch people dying."
"Most people don't enjoy such things," he murmured, carefully watching the simmering poison. Just a little longer, and he could remove it so that it could begin to cool. "You might as well have a seat and try to calm yourself, this needs to be finished first."
He attempted to give no apparent attention to the boy as he finished simmering the potion for the precise four minutes. Instead, his mind was trying to analyze the situation – why had Dumbledore decided to have him teach this skill to a boy that he'd never liked? Was the old man trying to get the boy killed? Was he trying to get Snape killed? Perhaps the old man had completely forgotten about his new health condition?
Carefully, he moved the cauldron, so that it could slowly cool. Placing a lid over it to prevent the cooling vapors from escaping, he turned his focus back to the boy who was currently fidgeting at a desk. "So, what excuse did your friends receive as to why you are here?"
"Extra potions lessons, sir." Harry looked a little quieter, though still not happy.
"A pity that isn't the real reason, you could use some improvement," Snape replied, stalking over to the supply closet. From the very back, he removed a slender book, which he'd been using to prevent a particular herb from coming into contact with the walls as it dried. "You will need to read this book in your private time, it will explain the theories behind the exercises, and why they are supposed to work."
Harry Potter looked at the book, the brown leather darkened along the edges, and splotched with a multitude of green stains, and any lettering long since worn away. He looked uncertain if he wanted to actually touch it. "Exercises, sir?"
"Yes. Occulomancy is a delicate art, one that I don't expect you to master quickly. You must learn to gather your thoughts deep inside, and to simultaneously create a blankness around them, something that your enemies can not read." For a moment, he considered the numerous other students who would be much better suited to a mental blankness, though in their case, it wasn't from any skill. "In your case, this might take a considerable time. You are always thinking, even if it is seldom the topic you are supposed to be attending to."
Harry blinked, sitting up straighter. Questions were dancing in his eyes, almost strong enough to taste. "How do I begin?"
"First, you must calm yourself, and focus on your breathing. This similar to meditation, and if it helps you to count, or try for a particular number of breaths each minute, then do so." He watched as the boy nodded, and tried to slow his breathing.
Gradually, the boy seemed to be paying more attention to him than to his lessons. With a slight frown, he inquired, "Is there something of particular interest about me, Potter?"
"You're not breathing. You're… you're a vampire!" Harry's voice rose, and the scent of fear grew stronger.
"It seems that you have been paying attention in at least one of your classes after all, Mister Potter," Severus spoke slowly, deciding that it truly didn't matter if the boy knew or not. "But who could you tell, Mister Potter? Who would believe such a story? After all, I am a valuable member of this faculty, and you are just a boy. One with a particularly unwelcome habit of believing that the Dark Lord is still out there."
"I…" the boy faltered, glancing down at the table, where his hands were clenched into fists. "He is out there."
"Of course he is," Severus agreed. "I know that, you know that. Unfortunately, the ministry refuses to consider such a possibility."
There was a peculiar expression on the boy's face, as if he was confounded and frightened, and trying to hide the whole thing behind a brave mask. How typically Gryffindor of him. "I'm not planning to eat you, boy."
"But…" For a moment, Harry looked almost offended, before biting back his words. "What are you planning?"
"I shall continue to make potions, for a very long time. It also appears that I am supposed to attempt to instruct you in Occulomancy." He shrugged a little, "Very little has changed for me, particularly in regards to what affects you."
"The new Divinations assistant…" the words were a shocked whisper, and then Harry looked up. "What did you do to her?"
Severus chuckled, shaking his head. "Once again, your ideas are incorrect. I did not do anything to her; she is the one who has done things to me. She has given me… eternity. And freedom, in a way."
"She's… but she's…" Harry stammered, turning a tempting pink. "Never mind."
"It isn't your concern," Severus dismissed. "I shall attempt to teach you to shield your thoughts. Assuming that you survive the inevitable next confrontation with Voldemort, it will be a most useful skill for the rest of your life."
end part 1.
Drusilla hummed as she moved through the trees. She didn't want to go too deeply into the forest, that was the spider's domain. She might have argued, but Miss Edith had whispered that there were dozens upon dozens of the spiders, and that they would get very cross if she tangled their threads. Besides that, they'd eaten most of the small game in the deep woods anyhow.
Something was whispering under the trees though, and she meant to find the new voice. It wasn't the stars; she knew their clear, shining voices. It wasn't Miss Edith, whose voice was so much like her own, but calmer. It wasn't the voices of her family, nor the echoes of the screams of those that she'd killed over her years. No, this was a different voice, thin, papery, and she had the impression that she'd heard it once before, or perhaps the echo of it. "You can't hide forever, someone will always find you in the end."
"Who said I meant to hide forever?" The voice was dry, almost weak sounding, with a hissing undertone. He didn't sound quite human.
Drusilla turned, and looked at the thin man leaning against a tree. His skin was pale and rough looking, and his eyes were a burning red. In a way, he reminded her a bit of the Master, on the one time that she'd seen him, though he wasn't dressed at all the same. Instead of fine velvets, he was in a tattered black robe, with a little stick like the one her darling dragon-childe used.
She wasn't that impressed. "Perhaps you should hide a little longer, until you have something prettier to wear."
He hissed, and pointed his little stick at her, hissing a nasty green word with sharp edges everywhere – "Crucio!"
Pain flared, like a thousand little teeth gnawing and biting at her, and she collapsed, protesting, "But I was a good girl, and I didn't hurt the lambs!"
He walked closer to her, his skin rasping against itself like lizards dancing. "Foolish woman."
Drusilla remained on the ground, eyes barely open, watching him though her lashes. Now she knew him, now that she'd drowned in his magic. This was the nasty old snake that had tried to tie up her Severus. And she would not share.
"You are pretty enough, and so far from where anyone would be able to save you…" One hand tugged at the shoulder of her gown as red eyes focused on her breasts.
She swatted his hand, keeping her fangs hidden. "I don't want to make the beast with you. You don't know how to treat a lady, let alone a princess."
The little magic stick was pointed at her again, and he snarled something else, a word that made her mind feel all fuzzy, full of cotton and flower petals. Slowly, she stood up, unlacing the bodice of her gown and letting it fall around her feet in a soft, silken puddle. Part of her frowned, that was no way to treat a pretty dress; it could get all muddy. Even as she disliked letting her gown fall to the forest floor, she moved towards the nasty snake man, clad in the green lace bodice and panties that Severus had found for her, with her legs encased in lace stockings. She kicked off the shoes, feeling her body wobble as she moved.
"Now, I think it's time to play… You will enjoy this," the snake sneered at her, and she could hear his voice echoing through the flowers in her head, urging her to play the naughty naked games with him, like she did with her daddy, like she had with her Spike, like she did with her dragon-childe….
"Oh, I do like to play…" She cooed, and then slashed at his chest, nails ripping through his robes and drawing blood. As he gasped, the magic stick moving, she licked the marks, tasting the blood, tasting his magic. "I like naughty games."
He grabbed her arm, pulling her closer, crushing her lips against his. There was no teasing, no suggestion of a later reward for the games, only demands. And his tongue tickled, shaped different and funny. Flower petals were falling in her mind, shriveling and wilting.
She pushed his hand away, annoyed that he was trying to thrall her like she did the gentle lambs.
He bit her tongue.
Drusilla hissed, part of her enjoying the pain, and part of her insistent that this nasty snake had no right to punish her at all. Her hands curved into claws, and she lashed at him again, going for his eyes. Even if she didn't catch one – and they popped so nicely – wounds to the scalp did bleed so, and it would be harder for him to see.
The sound that he made was closer to a yelp than a hiss, and while she hadn't caught the eye, blood was pouring down his face. She licked at her nails, smirking at him. "You taste like green water and ashes."
He snarled the sharp edged word again, sending a hundred biting pains over and through her body. But she could smell his fear, as rich and strong as his blood, and she laughed at him, dancing closer as her muscles quivered and tried to send her to the ground. "I like to play, old snake. You wanted to play, you promised that we could play..."
He screamed at her, words that burned green like fire and flashed a bright light. Drusilla collapsed this time, feeling as if she had been turned into a tiny doll and then folded into a trunk. Such a nasty spell…
He rolled her over, his hand rough on her bare shoulder. "That shall fix you."
She lunged, teeth sinking into his throat. But he still tasted like green water and ashes, and so she pulled her head away, ripping a section of his flesh away. His blood sprayed, covering her like lace, and she laughed. "I can hear them now, a hundred little men and women screaming in your head… Lost puppets with their strings cut away."
He stabbed at her with the magic stick, lips moving to try to say something else, and there was pain. Horrible pain like holy water burning over her body, washing away his blood. She fell to the ground, the stars voices fading as she passed out.
End part 2.
The lesson with Potter had felt like it took the whole night, with the boy sitting there, twitching with barely suppressed fear. The temptation to just sink sharp teeth into him and drink had been strong, and almost as strong had been the temptation to just let his fangs show and savor the terrified reaction that would surely follow. He had indulged neither temptation.
Instead, they had spent that time trying to get Potter into a state of calm where he would be aware of the activity of his mind, the wild thoughts and emotions. It was nearly impossible to mask such things until one was aware of them, after all. Potter had left, feeling discouraged at his slow progress and relieved to be away from Snape the vampire.
He'd been ridiculously good. But all that self-control had left him hungry, and he decided to indulge in a bit of hunting in the Forbidden Forest. Surely he would be able to find something that he could eat. He also wanted to find Drusilla, and there was the oddest sensation, as if he was being urged to move faster, to find her right now.
He was still amazed at how easily he could see in the dark. He had never been able to navigate the forest so clearly as a mortal, not even on the brightest of days. He spotted one of the unicorns off to the left, but the creature bolted away at the first sound of his presence. It was hardly as if he had believed himself to be 'pure' or 'harmless' by any definition of the words.
There was someone stumbling, cursing at the roots of the trees. He could see a bobbling flicker, the glow of someone's wand creating a light as they tried to move through the trees. But none of the students were supposed to be outside tonight. None of the mortals of the staff either.
Which meant the stumbling man ahead was prey.
He could feel himself smiling, feel the itching of his teeth as he contemplated human prey. The blood was so much more satisfying than that of rabbits or deer. He could see the man now, a dark-robed form, trying to go deeper into the woods.
Moving closer, he spoke softly, knowing the sudden noise would be more frightening than a shout or snarl. "You might see better if the light was towards the ground."
"Ahhh!" The man yelped, spinning around to face him.
"Burgess. What brings you stumbling into the forest?" Severus asked, stepping towards the dark wizard. Burgess had been a member of the Death Eaters for four years, and had never managed to attain any particular power or competency.
"The… the Dark Lord is here. He was supposed to be…" Burgess straightened, trying to look confident. "I wanted to make certain nothing interfered with his ritual. Not all the creatures of the forest would recognize his power."
"Somehow, I doubt the horde of acromantulas would be impressed by any wizard," Snape drawled, moving closer. He was close enough to touch now, if he reached out, he could seize the incompetent Death Eater. "Another means of trying to strike at the Potter brat? Or perhaps Dumbledore."
"The wards around the castle, actually." Burgess mumbled. "Why aren't you helping him with his efforts?"
"My expertise has always been in potions, particularly in poisons. Tonight, I made forty doses of a draught that would send a grown man to the ground, screaming as his entrails turned to bloody froth inside of him. There is no antidote." Snape lied smoothly, delighting in the increasing scent of fear.
"No antidote? I thought everything had an antidote." Burgess took a step backwards.
"No, not everything," the words were smooth like silk. Letting his fangs show, he lunged, grabbing the wizard.
Burgess screamed, his protests not fading until Snape had drank enough that he could no longer remain aware, could no longer protest. The taste of fear was potent, and went so nicely with the tingling sensation of the magic in the blood. Oh yes, there was a difference between muggles and wizards… He let the body fall to the ground.
Something was wrong.
He tried to focus on his sire, to feel her location. Moving quickly through the trees, he finally emerged in a small clearing. Drusilla, clad only in her tempting lingerie and splattered liberally with cooling blood, was collapsed on the ground, her gown dropped some twenty feet away. Near her, another body lay on the ground, covered with more blood, a wand clutched in one pale hand.
Kneeling beside the unknown body, he blinked as he realized that this was Voldemort. This pale, bloody carcass was the dreaded Dark Lord. He chuckled, and turned his attention to his lovely sire. There were tiny quiverings of her muscles, a sure sign that the Crucio curse had been cast on her, possibly more than once. She wasn't moving, which was more troublesome.
He walked over, tossing her gown over his shoulder, knowing that she would be furious if he abandoned it in the woods. Then, he lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the castle. Drusilla had been hurt, and it was his duty and privilege to help her return to health. Sometimes, he found the new emotional reactions to his sire frustrating, but for now, he accepted them.
Unfortunately, his hopes for an in-obtrusive and unnoticed return were foiled. None other than Sibyl Trelawney stood inside the walls, staring at the roof with an expression of dread. Her body shook as if from cold, causing her myriad necklaces and charms to rattle.
"No, the darkness… blood and darkness and death." Her voice was filled with dread, and the scent of fear hung thick about her, like perfume.
"What are you babbling about now?" He glared at her, wanting only to tend his injured sire.
"He is not so easily gotten rid of." The words were unexpectedly deep, as if someone else's voice had been deposited in her throat.
"He who?" Severus demanded.
"He… who do you mean?" Sibyl shook her head, and then blinked. Pulling herself up straight, she adjusted her shawl and made a small hmmmph. "I don't think I wish to enquire as to what you are trying to do with my assistant."
"She was injured in the forest. I intend to help her recover." Severus managed not to snap any more. But if that woman didn't get out of his way, he'd feed her to Drusilla himself.
Turning, Sibyl retreated, no doubt to return to her tower.
Dismissing her and her words from his mind, Severus carried Drusilla down to the dungeons. He had more important things to worry about than one inept woman who claimed to See.
end part 3.
End BSH6: Shadowy Snake Plots.