Chapter 7: "Photographs"
Disclaimer: As I have stated before, I do not own Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, or any other related characters, situations and entities - JKR and Warner Bros do. All I own is the idea and the OC, Malachai Tomaren. And I am not making any money off of this story.
Author notes: Thanks so much to everyone who's still reading, and to everyone who's reviewed. I really do appreciate it so much, which is why you only had to wait a week for chapter 7! I can't promise the same for chapter 8, but I'm setting myself that same goal, so I promise it won't be another month in between updates. I can do better, really!
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The weekend had been filled with plotting and scheming - and sex. Severus was quite happy to get Tomaren out of the school and out of the way - and no he wasn't feeling the least bit guilty nor remorseful for potentially sending the man to his death. He knew that Tomaren wouldn't be helping out the Death Eaters by choice, so there was very little risk that the Vampires would be joining Voldemort, and thus he wouldn't be causing any problems by aiding Lucius.
There was the little concern of what Dumbledore would do if he found out Severus was aiding the Death Eaters in capturing Tomaren - but since Albus didn't seem to realize Voldemort's schemes, there was a good chance he wouldn't find out anyway. They had decided that once Tomaren was gone, it would have to look as though he'd intended to leave.
They'd have to clear out his rooms, maybe even leave a note spelled to be in his handwriting. He hadn't decided on what the note would say yet. Maybe something as simple as 'the hunters are after me, I'll contact you later, can't put the school in danger' etcetera, etcetera. Something noble that would appeal to Albus. Then Dumbledore would think nothing of it when Tomaren didn't show up again. Maybe eventually, a few years down the road, he'd assume the hunters had gotten him.
There was a good chance he'd be dead, anyway, unless he just decided to join Voldemort. Who knew. The Vampire might change his mind, when faced with death. Many people had before him. And even if he did, Severus told himself, Tomaren might not end up being that much of an asset to Voldemort as the Death Eaters thought. What could creatures who weren't even Wizards really do when faced with real magic? Just because Tomaren had been a Wizard, and had known magic, didn't necessarily mean that he could still perform it, no longer being human. What did that leave him with? Blood magic - could that really compete? Severus convinced himself that it couldn't. And if he could do magic - well, so what? Malachai wasn't all-powerful. Even if he had proved adept at Occulmancy, Severus had still gotten through his mental defenses. That proved he wasn't invulnerable.
It was now Monday night. Tomaren and some students from his advanced Defense class were in the Great Hall, while the Professor was doing some sort of demonstration. This was that thing that the Gryffindor trio had been so anxious to witness. Severus hadn't caught the details, only that he'd be there for an hour and Albus would also be in attendance. The perfect time for Severus to do some snooping.
The irony was not lost on Severus. Here he was, sneaking down to Tomaren's quarters (which turned out to be not far from his own, deep in the dungeons - one would assume because there was no chance of exposure to sunlight) with the intent to break in, just as Tomaren had done to him. After some brainstorming, it was decided that the only thing that would have to bring Tomaren out of the castle was the search for blood. Severus' job tonight was to sneak into Tomaren's room and look for clues as to his feeding habits. Did he keep blood handy, or did he have to go hunt every time he needed it? Earlier he'd gone down to the kitchens under the pretense of pilfering a snack, keeping the house elf attending him busy while he peeked into the cold food storage to see if blood was being kept for him, and his search had turned up nothing. Hopefully that meant he'd find something here.
Severus had done a bit of breaking and entering before on behalf of the Order, so he had some door lock charm breakers already memorized for the occasion. It was a bit of a let down when Tomaren's door opened after the first one.
Half expecting to be greeted with a room swathed in velvets and dominated by a black coffin, Severus crept inward, closing the door behind him. He was again disappointed. The decor was very minimalist- in fact, there was no decor. The walls were bare, the floor was bare. There were two cabinets, unadorned and plain. One bed, with wrought iron posts and white bedding that looked recently bought and rarely slept in. Severus was expecting bizarre dead animal trophies, perhaps a few skulls with elongated fangs.. maybe a shrunken head or two. The bedside stand had no lamp; there were no books.. though it did have a photograph, in a cheap wooden frame.
Approaching quietly, Severus studied the picture. Two men were its focus, both looking to be in their twenties. It was black and white and a bit grainy, but Severus recognized Tomaren, staring intently at the camera, his robes black and old fashioned. The Vampire didn't move in the picture as pictures tended to do, just stood staring straight ahead, unblinking, not even breathing. The man on his left, on the other hand, had the little movements of life about him. His robes were more modern, in fact the style was quite popular today, so the picture must've been recent. He stared at Tomaren, smiling, occasionally moving his head or touching the Vampire lightly on the arm as if to catch his attention. The young man leaned forward, supporting himself against the Vampire, his cheek resting against the still shoulder.
Tomaren's image continued to stare straight ahead as if scrutinizing Severus.
Slightly unnerved by the picture Tomaren's odd behavior, Severus moved away. Belatedly, he noticed the Siamese curled up on the bed, the top of its little head just peeking up over a mound of white blankets that had been bunched up. Closer inspection told that the cat was asleep, not that it really mattered. Though Severus wasn't too keen on getting attacked, should the cat remember his less than warm treatment of it.
Severus spotted a desk past the bed and made his way over quickly. It was bare on top aside from a stack of student's papers, but he opened the drawers, hoping to find anything of interest. Quills, mostly. Bottles of ink. A stack of more black and white photographs, tied with ribbon. There were receipts, scattered everywhere, crumpled as if hastily pulled from pockets. Receipts for robes, parchment, ink, quills, a chest of drawers, a picture frame, bed linen.. a person's entire possessions were here in receipts. Dumbledore and Lucius said he'd been on the run.. had Tomaren arrived in England with nothing but the robes on his back and a stack of old photographs?
Severus looked at the photographs and thought about picking them up, but hesitated. It just seemed so.. strange.. to think of something like a Vampire wanting its picture taken. It made Tomaren seem almost ..human. And yes, of course, Severus knew that technically Tomaren was part human - or he'd been fully human before he'd become a Vampire. But still. Vampires didn't keep stacks of photographs in Severus' world. Yet this one did.
Severus picked up the stack finally, deciding that he just had to know if Tomaren looked the same in all the pictures. He slid the first one out of the ribbon. Again it was black and white, and Tomaren's robes looked old fashioned, though his companion in the picture was wearing modern ones. In fact, it appeared to be the same twentysomething man from the first picture. Severus blinked as Tomaren glared fiercely at the camera, then gave a little grin and turned to his companion. Well, this picture of Tomaren moved. In fact.. ah. The two men were kissing now. Severus felt like a bit of a voyeur, watching them in such an intimate embrace. It seemed the camera had captured an incredibly tender moment.
Vampires weren't supposed to have those, either. Severus remembered the memory he'd wrestled from Tomaren's mind: the bestial, consuming hunger and the pain it brought had seemed to encompass Tomaren's whole world. He hadn't seemed like a creature who'd be smiling and kissing and making silly eyes at anyone. And look, on top of that, apparently he was gay. Not that it mattered of course.. though now he couldn't help wondering how that kiss he'd planted on Tomaren had been interpreted. Afterwards it was probably seen for the distractive tactic that it was, but was it making Tomaren wonder? He didn't want the other man wondering about him.
With a grimace, he put the photographs back. Severus was careful not to knock anything out of place as he rearranged them, then slid the desk drawer closed. This wasn't getting him anywhere. Without any other personal artifacts to see, it was hard to gauge much more than Tomaren's sexual preference. There were no other clues as to his personality, really. What did white bed sheets tell you except that apparently he cared very little about what kind of bed sheets he bought? Even the cabinets in the room were plain, brown, cheaply varnished. Only one of the photographs he'd bothered to frame. The room spoke of haste and little care for his surroundings. There was nothing that looked like Tomaren had spent time thinking about. No other personal artifacts, just a bed, two plain cabinets, a desk, and one framed picture.
Severus moved back over to the picture, staring at it. It was so odd that Tomaren didn't so much as blink.. there. The image of Tomaren had just tilted his head towards his companion. That was something, at least. Severus glanced back to the cat, just to make sure it was still asleep. It was.
But that was another thing, wasn't it? Something personal. He had a cat. One he apparently hadn't even named himself. They were going to have to dispose of the cat, too. Severus didn't really like that idea; killing helpless animals really didn't make him feel good about himself, but it would have to disappear and he wasn't keen on keeping it.
The cabinets were Severus' last stop. He reached a hand out, holding it first in front of one and then the other, feeling for traces of cold. He wasn't entirely sure how one would keep blood, except it would have to be kept cold or it would .. well, go bad. There. The second was chilly to the touch. It had two doors that opened outward in opposite directions, so he took one handle and pulled, but it didn't budge. Locked, but there was no space for a key. In fact, a symbol was painted next to the handle, one Severus didn't recognize, in a thick reddish brown liquid. Two guesses as to what the liquid was.
Severus tried the charm breaker he'd used on the door. Nothing happened. Frowning, he tried another charm breaker, one used more commonly when written symbols were employed in the original locking charm. The drawn symbol glowed green for one moment, and then the doors swung open. Severus smiled.
A breath of frost assaulted him as the cabinet's contents were revealed. Inside were a few rows of shelves. On the shelves were small, earthenware pots, each hand labeled with tags in a hasty, spidery scrawl. Severus picked one up to read it.
Hogsmeade - Witch approx. 30 yrs - 1 pint
Severus blinked. Was that mild disgust he was feeling? How did he get the witch's blood into the pot? "Excuse me please ma'am, but would you mind terribly holding your wrist, which I just bit, open over this pot? Careful now, don't want to drip."
And he'd measured it. Severus flipped the tag over. According to the date on the back, he'd collected it over the weekend. He checked the other pots. They were all labeled in the same fashion, where he'd collected from, male or female, wizard or muggle, approximate age, and how much the pot held. There were five in total, all with dates from the weekend on them, all from Hogsmeade. In the bottom of the cabinet were a few more empty pots.
It made sense. It wasn't like Tomaren could just leave any time he wanted to go feed. But this was so.. sickeningly organized. Well, truthfully, the mild distaste he'd first felt had faded, so it wasn't literally making him sick.. but that wasn't the point. The point was that it was planned out. He'd collected extra blood so he didn't have to worry about his next meal, labeled it so he knew exactly where it had come from and when it had been gathered, and could ration it so he would theoretically never need to go hungry, providing he could eventually replenish his stock. Severus wondered how much a Vampire needed. One pot a night? Only five were filled, and this was Monday, so apparently not.
Well, alright. Here was the blood. Since he couldn't predict when Tomaren would need to get more, and there was apparently currently plenty for at least the week, Severus was going to have to dump it. That would force Tomaren to go hunting much sooner, and he could alert Lucius to have the Death Eaters waiting.
The only problem with this was that Tomaren would know exactly who had done it. Who else would have cause to break into his room and sabotage his food supply? Then again, Severus thought, it might not be such a bad thing for Tomaren to know he did it. Turnabout was fair play, as the saying went.
This would be messy if he didn't take care, but some haste was necessary because a glance at his watch told him it was swiftly approaching nine o'clock, and then Tomaren would be done with his demonstration. Severus had to be far away by then. Severus grabbed a pot in each hand, and headed for the only other door in Tomaren's room, which had to lead to the bathroom.
It did. He headed over to the sink, set the jars down, then pulled the lids off the tops and dumped them into the basin. He watched a moment in odd fascination as blood poured down thick over the white porcelain, then turned on the tap and washed it down. He even rinsed out the pots before taking them back and placing them just as they'd been, and carefully grabed the last three.
On his second trip, something small darted out under his feet. A bit of quick footwork, and he managed to avoid tripping or dropping the jars, but it was now clear the cat was awake. He got the jars to the counter next to the sink just as the Siamese leapt with boneless grace onto the ledge, slinking behind the jars. It hissed at him, ears folding back, back arching, delicate fangs bared. Severus reached over the jars to push it off as he'd done the other day, but this time the cat seemed to be ready for him.
As soon as his hand got anywhere near, it flipped onto its back and sunk all four sets of claws into his arm. The two front paws had his hand, and the back had his arm - claws sinking into his forearm as if he wasn't even wearing long sleeves. "Fuck," Severus swore, trying to shake the cat off without knocking over the jars. It bit down onto the backs of his knuckles, kicking with its back legs.
It was like being punched with little needles. Cursing again, he pulled his arm off, in hopes of dislodging the cat, but it dug its claws in again and managed to hold on. Severus was shaking his arm now, drawing it away from the jars - the cat was still hanging on, a good four feet above the ground. It was howling its anger, but its grip was loosening as Severus shook his arm around, stomping his foot and trying to suppress garbled obscenities as it continued to bite. He spun around, shaking his arm counterpoint, and the cat lost its back legs. Before it could regain its footing, he swung his arm down and to one side as hard as he could. The cat let out one more angry wail in protest, then lost its grip completely and hit the ground, taking off just as Severus' foot was searching for a soft place to kick.
Severus searched the floor for signs of the cat, but it had apparently disappeared into the other room. Sighing, he rolled his sleeve up to survey the damage. Angry red lines crisscrossed puncture wounds all over his hand, though his forearm hadn't faired so badly. There were still puncture wounds that were bleeding a little. "Bloody animal.. and to think I was feeling bad for you a moment ago," he muttered, then rinsed his arm under the tap. He dried it off on his robes, then upended the last three pots into the sink and rinsed everything out again. The sink still looked a bit pink, so Severus used a simple cleaning charm to finish up.
As soon as he walked back into the room with the now empty pots, Severus saw a brown blur, and then felt needles in his leg. "Bloody cat!" he shouted, shaking his leg as best he was able. He must've got lucky, because it dropped onto its back, then righted itself with a flip and darted off again. "Come near me one more time and I'll use an Unforgivable, don't think I won't!" he shouted, though really what the point was of threatening a cat he didn't know. He wouldn't really use the Cruciatus on a cat.. but he wouldn't mind kicking Tomaren's Siamese at this point.
Severus finally got the pots back into their right places, congratulating himself on managing not to break anything, and got the cabinet closed again. He couldn't re-lock it, because he had no idea what kind of spell had done that in the first place, but oh well. It would've been more fun to think that Tomaren wouldn't notice anything wrong until he actually opened a pot and found it empty, but this would do.
He just wondered how long it would be before he got a visit from the unhappy Vampire. Of course, Tomaren didn't strike him as the type who liked confrontations of any kind, from the way he'd previously acted. But then he had been ready to fight once Severus had backed him into a corner.
Severus realized he was actually looking forward to finding out. The thought of revenge made him smile. Now it was time to go back to his quarters and use the Floo to let Lucius know how things had gone, and that Tomaren would be making a trip to Hogsmeade shortly.
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Much later that night, the Potions Master was awakened in the dark of his room to a weight on his upper body. He shifted in bed, but the weight would not leave. In fact, it got heavier the more he moved. Half asleep, he finally opened his eyes. It was pitch black, without the slightest bit of light to be found anywhere, but somehow he just knew he was staring into someone's face.
His cry of alarm was clamped off firmly by a hand covering his mouth and nose. Now, Severus might not have been trained very much at combat, but he wasn't going to flail and scream for help. He gathered his thoughts quickly while trying not to panic because his air supply had been cut off, then shot a hand out for the bedside table to grab his wand. The hand moved from his mouth and caught his wrist while a familiar voice whispered, "Lumos."
Severus stared up into a pale, young face and bright blue eyes. "Looking for this, Professor?" Malachai asked, and Severus noticed that it was his wand the Vampire was holding, its tip glowing faintly.
Snarling, Severus reached for it, but Tomaren sat back, his weight settled firmly onto the Potions master's stomach, and held it out of reach. The Vampire tisked gently. "Nuh uh. You don't need it, don't be silly. Nox," he murmured. The room was again dark.
Then Tomaren tossed the wand out of sight. It landed with a faint sound off in the distance somewhere. Far away from the bed, at any rate.
"How dare you-"
"How dare I? How dare you?" Tomaren leaned down again, which Severus could only feel, now that sight had left him again.
"Breaking into my room? Sabotaging my food supply? How petty."
"Just returning the favor," Severus growled. His other hand shot up, but was instantly caught and pinned against the bed like its fellow.
The strength in the arms that pinned him was amazing; made him feel as helpless as a child. Severus was in his thirties, for Merlin's sake. He did not enjoy that particular feeling at all. He strained against his captor, but the Vampire might as well have been made from iron, for all the good it did him.
"Trust you to wait until I was asleep to retaliate," Severus snarled, still attempting to shift Tomaren, as pointless as it seemed.
"Yes, well us Vampires are sneaky and underhanded, you know. Quite a lot like Slytherins, from what I've observed here." There was a mocking tone in his words that Severus didn't like.
"Except of course that I'm not an undead git," was unfortunately the first thing that popped out of Severus' mouth.
Tomaren just chuckled. "I'll forgive you your lack of wit. It's late, I suppose, and you did just wake up."
"What does wit have to do with anything?" Severus half-shouted out of frustration - though honestly that comeback was not a very good one, "I've got a Vampire on my chest, holding me prisoner in my bed. I should think that making clever witticisms is the last thing I need worry about at this point."
"Oh, lighten up, Severus," Tomaren replied, as if it were all in good fun. There was little hope of that, though, not with the predatory growl in his voice.
"Is there a point to this interruption, or did you just sneak in here to lecture me about my sense of humor?" the Potions master groused, so caught off guard that he didn't even notice Tomaren had used his first name.
"Oh yes, right. Back to the intimidating. Boo, I'm a scary Vampire. How's that?"
Severus blinked in the darkness. He was not hearing this. "You are perverse." He tried his wrists again, but they were still held tight.
"Fine, you want me to get down to the point? I will. I wanted a little midnight snack, you see, but since someone broke in, harassed my cat, and discarded all my food so very rudely, I didn't have anything. So I thought to myself, I know, I'll go see the little bastard responsible. Not that I'm complaining about that. You have a very comfortable stomach, and warm blood is so much preferable to the cold stuff."
Severus fought to remember how to breathe in the ensuing silence. "I think I liked you a lot better when you acted timid and scared around me."
"I spent my whole mortal life being timid and scared," Tomaren lamented with a note of regret, "But when I became a Vampire, I finally had the tools with which to stand up for myself. Besides, we Vampires are predators. It's not in our nature to be timid."
"Apparently not." Severus muttered dryly, thinking back to when Tomaren held him down and bared his fangs, just inches from his face.
"Well, you pissed me off, sunshine." Apparently Tomaren was thinking of the same thing. What was this, a sarcastic term of endearment? Not only a Vampire, oh no, it was like Tomaren was being American just to spite him.
"Bloody Americans."
"Fuckin Brits."
"Oh shut it."
"I don't think you're in any position to demand anything of me," Tomaren reminded him with a soft tone that was almost oddly tender.
Severus felt something wet on his cheek. In a moment of horrid clarity, he realized it was a tongue. "Get off of me!"
"Too late for that. I'm here for something, and I'm going to take it."
"I will go to the Headmaster about this-"
"No you won't, sunshine. Because if you do, I'll tell him about your earlier use of Legillimency against an unsuspecting Professor and that you broke into my quarters and sabotaged my food supply. And if that isn't enough, I could always throw sexual harassment in there, too."
"What?" Severus asked, shocked.
"When you kissed me, sunshine."
"Stop calling me that! Do you think it would really matter? You'd still get fired for you part in all of it, including attacking a Professor in his quarters at night!"
"Yeah, but you'd get fired too. If you went down with me, well that'd be worse, wouldn't it? I'll probably only be here for the year. You, on the other hand, this is your career."
Severus stayed silent. He knew it was true. His actions had been entirely unprofessional. Merlin, if Severus were the one making the Headmaster's decision, he'd fire himself too. Before he could say anything else, however, Tomaren's head was pushing into the space where his neck and shoulder joined, and the Vampire's tongue was drawing a bulls eye on his skin. The weight moved off him and settled nearby, so their bodies were still touching in a line down his side.
He thought it would be painful, but when the fangs sunk into his skin, a very different feeling assaulted him. Oh yes, there was a little pain, a small stinging sensation, but it was swept to the back of his mind as ecstasy leapt at him. Then the pain turned into pleasure, and grew as he felt lips clamping down around the wound. The fangs were still pleasantly embedded in his skin, but he could actually feel the blood being drawn out of the wound.
Severus knew it was illogical. He knew it had to be some part of the Vampire's innate magic that was causing him to feel pleasure instead of pain. He knew that the pleasure that bolted in a straight line for his groin had to merely be an induced sensation so that the Vampire's victim wouldn't try to fight - not that it would've done much good. Even though he hadn't known this before, he understood that this was why he was feeling the way he was. He'd always liked a little pain now and again during sex, but it wasn't that. That was what was so strange, in fact. It didn't hurt, and even if he was going to feel pleasure too, it should be hurting badly. Instead, it felt wonderful. This, he thought, this was bliss.
But knowing that it didn't feel right didn't help matters any. It didn't stop his thoughts from melting away, his brain from turning to utter mush. And it couldn't stop the raging hard on he was getting. He gasped for air in a desperate attempt to clear his head from the assault of pleasure on his neurons, but it did no good. The weight on his wrists, being restrained as Lucius so often enjoyed doing to him, only added to his arousal. Pleasure was flooding every available sensation.. it was like being drugged. Anywhere his skin came in contact with anything, it felt wonderful. The sheets were like the finest silk against his arms and legs, his nightshirt caressed the rest of his skin like a thousand gentle fingers. But it wasn't nearly enough, not over his quickly hardening prick.
If only he had a hand free! It needed contact so badly, and there was nothing he could do. A wordless groan escaped his lips, and he shut his eyes because there wasn't anything to see anyway. He only wanted to feel. More, he thought freverently. More and more and more he wanted, until he would explode from it. And only that would be a satisfactory end. "Fuck," came his strangled whisper, and embarrassment flooded him. If this was what happened every time Vampires bit someone, then Tomaren had to know what he was feeling right now.
Severus slowly realized that Tomaren's hands had moved, and his right hand was not in fact pinned anymore. Not only that, but that pressure settling over the blankets directly above his throbbing cock wasn't coming from one of his hands.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. "Merlin," he moaned, unable to stop himself. The pressure left, and then something was sliding down under the sheets, over his belly, down his legs. Something was dragging his nightshirt up, and wrapping itself around his cock. One of Tomaren's hands.
He felt a great ache as the fangs slid out of his skin and the feeling of blood being pulled out of his veins receded. "No," was on his lips, barely whispered but still there, to his great dismay.
He'd hoped that when Tomaren stopped feeding, his erection would go away. But now he'd never know, because a hand was pulling it, slow enough to be teasing and rough enough to keep his interest. Severus thrust his hips up into the hand, felt soft hair brush his cheeks as the weight next to him shifted. "Merlin, yes," he groaned as Tomaren's thumb rubbed over his slit, spreading pre-come over the head.
Every little movement was felt ten times more strongly than it by all rights should've been. Every touch set him aflame, every stroke was the brink of orgasm. Within what felt like seconds he was coming, exploding, erupting into Tomaren's hand. The Vampire threw the blankets back and raised his hand with its sticky white prize up away into the darkness.
Severus' eyes, he found, had adjusted to the darkness somewhat. Enough that dimly he knew the hand with his semen was near Tomaren's face, and that face was moving slightly as it apparently examined its prize.
"What are you doing?" Severus asked hoarsely, finding his throat too thick somehow. He had horrible thoughts that Tomaren was going to bottle his semen and use it in some dark ritual. Then in nine days he'd drop dead in the middle of telling Harry Potter his potion looked like crap.
"Dessert," Tomaren intoned huskily.
"You are not serious." Severus muttered as his thoughts struggled to reorganize themselves.
"Why do you have such a hard time believing that I'm serious all the time? The chemical makeup of sperm is almost exactly the same as that of blood."
There was rustling, movement, and from what little Severus could see Tomaren was stretching out next to him. Like the cat who'd swallowed the canary. Well. Maybe 'canary' wasn't the right word.
Clarity was slowly descending upon him again, washing away the murky areas of his brain. It was met with some resistance, as if it wasn't meant to happen so soon. Maybe Severus' intense desire to be more angry at the situation was helping his mind clear so quickly. "You're telling me that you actually gain.. nourishment from sperm."
"Sure. Not very much, but enough for it to be fun." The tone was lazy and egotistical, as if this were something to be proud of.
As the clouds left his brain, Severus felt a moment of hilarity hit him. "You must be a big hit with gay men."
"You tell me."
Severus found, much to his annoyance, that he didn't have anything to say to that. So he changed the subject, trying to will away the lethargy that was all too soon settling within him. Obviously he was still supposed to be feeling fuzzy and warm. Thank Merlin that wasn't ever something he was used to feeling. "Well, you've had your revenge. Isn't it about time you were skulking back to your own chambers?"
"Mm. I'm wallowing in post-feeding contentment, here. Can't you stop talking for two minutes?"
"You just came in here, took my blood without permission, forced me to have an orgasm-" That earned an incredulous snort, "-and now you want to lay down and cuddle like we're bleeding lovers?!" This was beyond Severus. He ought to jump out of bed, grab his wand, and Obliviate the bastard all the way back to America. Only he'd just had the best orgasm of his life and couldn't, at the moment, be arsed to.
"Who said anything about cuddling? You're so pointy I'd be likely to stab myself on a hip bone. Or that great stork beak on your face."
That was the limit. No one insulted Severus' nose and lived. "Get the bloody fuck out of my bed right now, you vein sucking arsehead."
"Ooh, one I haven't heard before. Poor Severus, I know how unhappy you must be to have just had an orgasm. That really gets me down, too." Severus got the distinct impression that Malachai - smug undead git that he was - was highly amused by all of this.
He made things sound so simple. Bastard. "Stop calling me Severus-"
"Are you kidding? I ate your sperm. I should be able to call you whatever the hell I want now, sunshine."
Severus was very Not In The Mood. "No calling me sunshine!" he protested, feeling like a helpless child.
"Alright, Severus."
"You are insufferable."
"But you like it."
The man was delusional. "What? I hate you."
"Ok, but you liked the orgasm."
That was not the point! "I thought this was supposed to be revenge!" Or maybe the revenge was that he'd just refuse to shut up.
"It was; it's obvious how much you hate me, but I got you to come. Not only that, it'll never be that good again unless it's with me."
"Bit full of yourself, don't you think?" Severus asked scornfully.
"Yeah." More shifting. The Vampire sat up, looking down at him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go coax the cat out from under the bed and get some sleep before classes in the morning."
"I don't care. Get out."
And he did. When the door closed behind Malachai, his long silhouette briefly framed in the doorway by the dim light from the hall, Severus let out a sigh. Then he rousted himself from the bed and got his wand. Merlin. There was no way he'd be getting any more sleep tonight.
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