Another Year, Another DADA Professor

Chapter 10, "Parley"

(at long last)

Warnings: rated 'R' for language, mentionings of quasi-rape, and a hand job.

A/N: I will continue to insist that it could be worse, that I could have just let the fic die. Pleasedon'thateme. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and for all the amazing praise that I surely do not deserve. If I can manage to stick to my outline, the fic will be completed in Chapter 12. And then no one can get mad at me for not updating until I break down and do a sequel because I've become too attached to my little vampire OMC. I hope you all enjoy this (long-ass) chapter!!!

Thursday evening saw Snape headed for home again. He'd successfully avoided Lucius all week, thanking whatever luck that prevailed in helping him there because he hadn't even wanted to think about sex. Doing so only caused Malachai to spin wildly through his mind, and with the Vampire came the inevitable remembrances to having his blood stolen, an odd, forced orgasm, and then committing such a reprehensible crime as rape, only to find that he... hadn't really raped anyone.

What could have happened to Tomaren in his life to make him enjoy being forced? Did the Vampire fantasize about just that sort of thing? Admittedly, Severus' world view of sex was not exactly what most wizards considered 'normal', and when in certain moods, he would even admit to himself that the relationship he shared with Lucius was probably not healthy… and certainly never ordinary.

There was no getting around the obvious fact that Malachai had enjoyed it though. At first he'd tried to ignore that this was the case, but the guilt wouldn't last. He'd wanted the guilt to last. It wasn't supposed to fade, just as he wasn't supposed to actually want to fuck the Vampire again. Still, anytime his thoughts would turn to the subject of sex, inevitably Severus would get around to wondering what it would be like to do it again. What would it be like to have a willing body underneath him, groaning and sobbing and begging for more while Severus simply worried about his own pleasure for once?

Those thoughts ought to have been irrelevant, as he'd told Malachai they were. There was still the fact that Severus couldn't trust his strange colleague. Malachai may have looked like a pretty young thing out for a shag, but he was in reality a dangerous Vampire who'd never given Severus any reason to trust him. He was a monster, a foreigner, and a liar. Not to mention, he thought of Severus as food, which was not exactly conducive to trust in itself.

Why did he keep telling himself all this? Around and around it went in his head, all the same arguments repeating themselves endlessly before his addled brain. By now it all should've sunken in. Severus should've firmly intended to stay away from the Vampire DADA Professor, and have nothing more to do with the situation, even after the Death Eaters found him at Hogsmeade.

Instead, he found himself taking routes through the castle that would bring him past Malachai's classroom. Meals were spent picking at his plate, eyes sweeping through the great hall like the owls that delivered letters, trying not to make it so obvious that he was studying Tomaren.

The Vampire seemed to be missing his blood supply most grievously. Rather, that was the only thing Severus figured that would account for Tomaren growing so incredibly pale and skinny, with dark hollows deepening around his eyes in just a few short days. When they passed in the hall, Malachai kept his head down, and always seemed in a great hurry to be on his way, as if he were fleeing from something.

Severus hadn't seen Dusty since the day they'd met, and once, mostly as bait, he'd asked after the young animagus. That was the only time he'd seen some of the previous fire in Tomaren's eyes, as he brusquely informed Severus that he hadn't asked, and didn't care. The subject had seemed incredibly sore, more so than Severus would've thought, so he wondered if something had happened between the two of them.

Whatever the case, Dusty was apparently not offering himself up as supper. Daily the Vampire's appearance weakened. Severus wondered if that was why, in the books, the pictures of Vampires were always incredibly pale and gaunt. Maybe photographers could only identify Vampires from Humans when they were half-starved. Indeed, Malachai's skin had begun to look papery, brittle, and white as snow.

He had almost reached the exit to the castle that evening when he realized he was not alone. The doorway that would lead him out onto the grounds was perhaps a hundred feet away, but something wasn't right with the lighting. The only thing letting Severus see the cramped corridor around him was his wand, the tip glowing with a bright light, so still a lot of the stone hall was lost to darkness. Maybe it was that reason that kept him from realizing it so late, but now as he stilled to listen carefully, he realized that something was most definitely off.

Silence assaulted him from all sides. Nothing moved, no light flickered. As far as he could tell, nothing was wrong. Wondering if it was just his imagination, Severus moved forward once more.

This time, he took all of five steps before realizing what was wrong. It wasn't the light that was off, it was the shadow. More precisely, his was not the only shadow moving, and it should've been. He halted abruptly without first slowing, and something on the edge of his light's radius shivered.

"Who's there?" he called sharply, his voice overly loud in the previous quiet. "Show yourself."

Three guesses as to who it was. Severus supposed asking 'who's there' was even a bit foolish of him.

From the darkness bled a slender humanoid silhouette, the arms and head forming as Severus watched. It was peculiar the way it happened, as if the light from his wand was just catching up with the form before it. Then suddenly, the shadow gave way, and the light birthed the figure of a man, color fading into it and giving it full dimension.

Just as Severus had suspected, it was Hogwart's resident monster. Malachai was staring at him, wall-eyed and sickly looking. But, oddly enough, instead of feeling the familiar comfortable annoyance that Severus expected, a new and different emotion was welling up in the face of this most inhuman man: fear.

But it was just Malachai. Just that stupid little git who'd begged Severus to bugger him harder. Instead of the flushed boyish face Severus remembered, however, he was now seeing an aged mask of malice and what was most certainly hunger. Malachai's bloodless lips curled back over white fangs glistening with saliva. Yes, that was probably hunger. The Vampire's eyes roiled in their sockets, so much larger now that the skin had shrunken back away from them.

'Okay, Severus. Stay calm. He may be a Vampire, but you've got your wand, and you can hex the bloody fuck out of him before he can manage one decent hiss. ..And don't think about how you fucked him. Dear Merlin, do not think about fucking this underfed mummy in front of you… Bollocks. ..Well, that's a horrifying mental image, now isn't it? Proud of your own stupidity, hmm? You know it's bad when even your inner monologue thinks you're a git.'

Severus drew from the part of himself that had allowed himself to stare down werewolves and parade effortlessly before Voldemort after turning spy, and managed not to step back in horror. "What do you want?" he challenged, amazed at how steady his voice sounded.

"Bet you're regretting screwing me now, huh?" Malachai asked, following up with a small, crazed giggle that cracked his face in a toothy grin.

Fuck. He sounded utterly insane… looked it, too, because that wide, frenzied grin was not going away.

"If you are referring to your less than desirable appearance, then yes, it had crossed my mind that I'd rather shag Flitwick than some ancient dried up crypt escapee. You look more zombie than man. Have you perhaps contracted leprosy?"

Malachai hummed tunelessly a moment, head tilted in mock-thought. "No," he finally decided, "I'm just hungry."

"I told you to do something about that days ago," Severus chided condescendingly, tightening the grip on his wand just in case.

"Hm, yes, so you did. But, I have to stay here, you see. Can't clue anyone in on what's going on. Must wait until the weekend."

Severus laughed humorlessly before he could think better of it. "You're worried about people finding out you're a Vampire looking like that? No worries there, I assure you. If anything, the Egyptologists will be knocking on Dumbledore's door in a few days, but I doubt they'll think you a Vampire."

"Cute," Malachai uttered dryly, "Have I ever told you how much I admire your wit?"

"There's always time to start."

"I don't look this bad during the days, silly. But now, when no one's around, I must conserve what little blood remains in my body."

Severus didn't reply. He was still a little stunned from being called 'silly'. That was a first. Though at least Malachai wasn't calling him Sunshine.

Malachai pressed on, turning his gaze away from Severus to some point on the wall, his hair swinging over his shoulder and obscuring part of his waxen face. "When I came here, it was pre-established that I would only go to feed on the weekends in Hogsmeade. If it were easier to think, I'd be able to remember why exactly that was so important." He let out a shaky breath, which Severus found odd, because he'd never seen the Vampire draw breath except to speak.

"But at this rate, I'm not going to last until the weekend," Tomaren said ominously, turning his chilling visage back on the potions master. "Unless I feed."

Tomaren's eyes widened a bit, and he took a soft step closer. It became obvious who exactly Tomaren had decided was going to become the meal, and thus what Severus had to do. "Stu-" he began quickly, only to be cut off by a cold thin hand plastering itself over his mouth. Severus instantly grabbed the Vampire's hand with his free one, tearing at the papery skin with his fingers, while his other hand was wildly trying to stake Tomaren with his wand.

"Ha ha, can't do a spell if you can't speak!" Tomaren caught Severus' wand hand easily, and suddenly it was like fighting against steel again. He struggled with all his might, but Tomaren effortlessly lifted Severus' wand out of harm's way, and the hand across his lips was gripping his jaw tightly.

Severus thrashed as much as he was able, but the Vampire held him firmly in place. He tried in vain to speak around the hand, but no sound could escape the muffler. "Hush," Tomaren chastised, "It'll go easier if you just let me do it. Close your eyes and relax."

If Severus' muffled words were audible, Tomaren would've heard the very ferocious "piss off" that was thrust his direction. Instead, he barely made a peep, and was helpless to do anything when his head was turned and tilted to one side, exposing his throat. In a last-ditch effort to escape, Severus aimed several low kicks to Tomaren's shins, but his angle didn't allow for much leverage, and Severus very much doubted if a normal human would've even felt them. Then he felt the Vampire's silky hair brush against his face as the huge presence loomed closer, and sharp teeth puncturing not his throat but a different spot where neck met shoulder.

As before, there was a moment of pain, which quickly receded. His senses dulled and drifted away, leaving behind a steadily growing pleasure spreading through his now seemingly boneless body. Severus imagined he could see arcs of green light flowing outward from the wound Malachai was creating, arcs that found all his pleasure centers and made them throb.

It grew increasingly difficult to analyze the situation, in fact it seemed to Severus even more difficult than the first time this had happened. The first time was more intense and electric. Now it felt like being drugged. He had a vague sensation of floating, where the man connected to him was the only thing anchoring him to the world he knew. And yes, pleasure again. Pleasure, that instead of consuming him in a raging fire, now seeped through his cells, slowly drowning him. His member was the only stiff part of him, it seemed, constrained by fabric and the yearning to be touched.

Gulping air suddenly as if he really were drowning, he fought against the currents of haze to say something, something vastly important, though even as he moved his lips, the words were lost to him. Still, he retained the impression that there was something in dire need of being said, if only he could remember what it was, and how to speak.

When Malachai pulled away, the loss of contact sent feverish shivers through him. He clutched his arms to make sure he was still solid. Air could not be pulled quickly enough into his lungs, and yet the atmosphere of the corridor was icy and laced with venom.

Eyes saw the corridor anew as if it hadn't been there a second ago. He stared at the damp pitted stones of the wall, and they did not seem familiar. Some part of him still seemed missing, as if it had just drifted away, which incarnated itself into an odd feeling at the back of his thoughts; a small dark object just out of his line of vision.

"How much did you take?" he demanded, though the anger in his voice was strange to his ears, as if he were listening to a recording of someone else.

"Just enough to get me through the week," a voice said, right in his ear. He turned quickly, startled that Malachai was still so close, but found that actually the Vampire was several yards away, leaning against the small doorway at the end of the corridor.

Malachai's skin had grown soft and pink again, and there was a little smile around his rouged lips. "Don't worry, I didn't take much. What you're feeling is normal." The voice was now several yards away with its master.

Severus' body had finally caught up to the fact that he had a hard-on and nothing was being done about it. Wincing, he tried to ignore it as best he could, and schooled his expression into something he hoped was more normal for him. "I'm supposed to feel like a disembodied head?" This must be what Sir Nicholas felt like, Severus wondered. Well, nearly.

Malachai shrugged. "I think so."

"My confidence in you grows by the moment," Severus murmured dryly, shaking his head as the fogginess in his brain lifted. "Shouldn't you know?"

"Well, It's been a long time since I've been bitten."

Severus scrutinized Malachai closely, noticing that the Vampire was acting a little lethargic. "Does anything happen to you?"

"When I bite someone? Well, it's very strange. ..So yes."

That was an odd answer. Severus assumed his conclusion was correct. "So are you feeling a bit like a disembodied head, too?"

"Not really. It's different for the Vampire. I feel kinda… sleepy, but at the same time like I could uproot the entire castle off its foundations one-handed." Malachai lifted himself away from the wall and took a step forward, then wobbled a bit and slumped against the stone wall. "Well, maybe in a few minutes I could."

"So… at first, you're sluggish. Then after that, you get a boost of energy." That was something the Death Eaters needed to know.

"Yeah."

"So what if you have to eat and run?" Severus asked suddenly, as a wave of dizzy euphoria assaulted him out of the blue. What a unpleasant sensation.

"Then you'd better have someone with you to haul your ass out of there," Malachai said, smirking.

Severus let out a short laugh, and then felt ill for it. "I see." Merlin, this was easy. Shouldn't collecting information from an enemy be more difficult? Perhaps his luck was that Malachai didn't seem to understand that he was an enemy.

"Do you now?" Malachai muttered cryptically.

Severus' head felt entirely too heavy. Gravity had increased itself to intolerable measures. There wasn't anything to do besides give in to the pull, he decided, and the last thing he remembered was the sensation of slowly falling. Down and down and down.

Severus was tired of waking up and feeling as if he'd never gone to sleep. It was the same this time. He awoke, with no knowledge of when he'd gone to bed or how he'd gotten there, feeling restless – not tired, but nevertheless like he hadn't slept at all.

And Malachai was in bed with him. A glance told him sleeping like the dead, no less. He tried to summon the usual irritation, but it just wasn't as strong. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, and now Severus didn't mind him so much. He didn't even feel particularly angry for being fed off of again.

But it wasn't for lack of trying. Severus got up, kicking aside the covers in frustration, lit the lamps, and began pacing his room. It was his, at least, not Malachai's.

He molested me, he reminded himself, I had to cancel classes, which is simply not done unless under extreme circumstances. He made me like what he did. And I raped him.

Merlin, he couldn't believe he'd done that. Even if Malachai had insisted that he'd enjoyed it, that he hadn't been raped – which Severus still had trouble believing – Severus had begun the situation with that in mind. As far as he was concerned, he'd committed rape.

It hadn't made him feel any better. Later, he couldn't imagine what he'd been thinking. When had that turned into a good idea? Severus had done many despicable things in his life among the Death Eaters, but that didn't make adding a few more to the list ok. It should've been the opposite.

Traitorous thoughts were creeping into Severus' mind. Malachai looked desirable, laying there in sleep. His features had smoothed into the face of the young man Severus had once thought him to be. His hair fanned out across the pillow prettily. A thin, graceful arm draped over the blankets, baring a creamy white shoulder to the air.

Maybe he didn't break into my office.

"Fuck." That was all that could be said, really. There was something wrong with his mind! These thoughts were not natural! He did not like Tomaren. He did not find him so desirable that it was… distracting.

Well, he hadn't yesterday. Severus was glad for his nightshirt to hide his growing arousal, from himself as much as the sleeping man in his bed.

Something had been done to his mind. That was all he could believe. But he couldn't tell when these false ideas had taken root within him. He was missing a large gap of time in his memory, from last night till now.

The clock told him it wasn't yet dawn. It was, however, bloody bollocky cold. So Severus distracted himself by making a fire. His wand was laying out on his bedside stand. Did Malachai no longer think him a threat? He used the menial chore to keep himself from thinking too deeply on his currently disturbing change of heart.

After the fire was lit and had taken hold of a log, Severus returned to the bedside. He stood over Malachai, thinking, wondering.

Severus raised his wand, comfortable from years of use in his hand, and aimed it over the Vampire's heart. He tried to summon the anger he'd felt in the days before, when he'd have gladly used the killing curse on the Vampire if he could've kept it a secret from Dumbledore.

He found he no longer had the slightest inclination. As soon as he so much as thought about using the curse, all will vacated him instantly. In that moment it would've been easier to kill Voldemort, who had already survived the killing curse once, than speak the words against the Vampire who had so tormented him over the past weeks.

With a sigh, Severus placed his wand back on the nightstand. Something was very wrong with him. These emotions were not ones he'd come to on his own terms, but rather foreign things that had been stitched neatly into the pattern of his mind. But not stitched so well that he could not see the seams.

"Damn you," he whispered down at the slumbering Vampire, wishing his words reflected some inner conviction. Severus did not like feeling helpless.

When the fire call came several minutes later, Severus was still staring down at Malachai. At first, the sound of swelling flames didn't move him, but then he realized what they meant when happening so dramatically, and he moved quickly to block the view of the room from the fireplace with his body. Bloody cold dungeons. Who would be calling him at this hour?

Lucius' irritated expression bled into the flames, and Severus blanched. Better than Dumbledore, but only for different reasons.

"Severus."

"Lucius."

"Mind enlightening me as to why you didn't come home last night?"

didn't come home last night

Home. Lucius had called Severus' house his..

He couldn't think. He couldn't analyze that as he would have liked. There was a Vampire sleeping in his bed, and his shoulders were naked.

"Severus." Lucius barked in irritation.

Severus focused again on the man's head in the flames. "I…" Merlin's balls, he didn't have an explanation ready for this.

Behind him, to his great horror, Malachai let out a waking noise.

Lucius' sharp eyes darted to the right, as if he could see past Severus. "What was that?"

Severus covered his face with his hand. Where was the point in trying to stop this? "That was Malachai," he muttered from behind his palm.

Lucius' stern visage arched a brow. "The Vampire..?"

Severus didn't look up from his hand. "How many 'Malachai's do we know, Lucius?" he asked irritably.

"I don't know any," Lucius reminded him icily. "Apparently you know one."

"Who are you talking to.." Malachai called behind him, and then Severus heard the bed sheets rustle as he moved. "Oh. The fire. Well that's perfectly alright then." There was a dull thump as Tomaren apparently resumed his sleeping position.

Severus cringed. His hand moved slippery hair out of his face.

"Have you gone insane?"

"Yes."

Lucius' voice lowered. "Tell me this is part of your plan. Tell me this isn't what it looks like, because if it is, then perhaps I've gone insane."

"We're all insane," Severus murmured, opening his eyes but not looking into the flames. "But the last thing I'm going to do is act like a guilty adolescent." The next words were very difficult, and spoken barely above a whisper, with the strong hope that Malachai would not hear. "Plans will go on as intended. Nothing has changed."

"Oh no, Severus, something has changed."

Severus glared into Lucius' image at the stern tone in his lover's voice. "What? You can have as many lovers as you want, but I-" he began angrily, but Lucius cut him off venomously.

"He's a vampire, you arse!" he whispered with ferocity, "He's not human!"

"I realize that!" Severus hissed back, feeling slightly ridiculous for it, but too angry to really care, "This isn't what you think, you don't know what's going on."

Lucius suddenly cooled. "I don't wish to have this discussion here. You will come home tonight and we will talk then."

Another protest welled in Severus' throat, but Lucius ended the call just then.

Severus rose to his feet swiftly, rounding on the bed and glaring at Malachai. The Vampire was awake and watching him.

"So who's Lucius?"

"Now you ask that question," Severus snapped, anger and frustration bubbling within him. "Normal people ask these things before they decide to pursue someone, you know."

"Oh." Malachai was completely unashamed. "Well, no one told me you had a lover."

Severus' eyes widened. He could imagine him pouncing on Sprout in some corridor, demanding to know why the woman hadn't told him Severus had a lover named Lucius.

He imagined Malachai asking Dumbledore about it.

Severus thought fast, trying not to panic. "He's… he's not my lover."

Malachai laughed. "What? You just sure as hell confirmed he was. And he seemed interested to know why you hadn't come home last night. I had no idea, Severus." Those blue eyes glittered mockingly at him.

"Fine, you win." Severus' expression was grim. He found an explanation quickly. "No one told you about him because no one knows about him. I'm a very private person, and I don't believe in mixing my personal life with that of my career. Besides which, not everyone is so accepting…."

Malachai was grinning at him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing… and 'nothing' makes you grin?"

"It's just cute to see you so defensive." The grin renewed itself.

Severus ignored this, determined to come to his point. "Do not speak to anyone else of what you have seen. I do not wish rumors to begin." He gave Malachai the stare that gave first years nightmares.

"Because no one knows you're gay." Malachai seemed unaffected.

"That is not how I'd put it, but-"

"You're in the closet."

"Excuse me? This is about my career."

Malachai's grin split his face in two. "You are! You're just like Draco. Do you occasionally appear in public with Sprout, so that no one will be the wiser?" Severus balked at this, stepping closer to the bed with a threatening posture. Malachai went on, seemingly oblivious. "Or do you just hide behind the greasy old git routine? I bet that's it. I bet no one suspects, because everyone just sees you as the scary old potions master. No wonder he hasn't got a wife, who'd marry him?"

"I hate you," Severus replied weakly. Truthfully, he did rely on that quite a bit. It was ironic that Malachai hadn't himself cared. "Why didn't that stop you then?"

Malachai sat up straighter, shifting his legs under the folds of the blanket before answering. "You don't want the answer to that."

"What?" Severus' eyes narrowed and found his wand, just where he left it.

"I look for that, Severus. When I go places, I never stay in one place for very long, it's the nature of survival, but after I get there, I look for the man who's always glaring from the shadows, you might say. Who holes himself up in his little dungeon, where he is king, and where no one can touch him."

Severus was insulted. It had a ring of truth to it, but he didn't like being described that way.

"I know your type. You're blunt, and harsh, and brutally honest with people. You see people who walk around deluding themselves that they're great, that the world's great, that everything is filled with sunshine and smiling faces, and you feel it's your duty to inform them of their gross overestimation of the state of affairs."

Severus sat down on the edge of the bed, raising a brow at Tomaren. If the Vampire expected him to be impressed, he was in for a let down. "So you've guessed my big secret. I hope you're proud. But what are you saying, that you find an antisocial hermit and make it your quest to get into his robes?"

Malachai laughed. Severus didn't see anything funny about the situation, so he sat there stone-faced until the Vampire sobered and looked at him again. "Yes, exactly. That way, I can have a blood donor I can get to, should hunting in the area prove… unsatisfactory."

"So you're telling me that you're using me. Which I already knew."

Malachai just nodded. "But I've answered your earlier question. I'm using you, and it's because you're the one out of the public eye. You suffer silently." Malachai's grin turned to a smirk. "Well, not silently…"

"I see," Severus' lips pressed into a thin line. He was tired of listening to this. "I'm … convenient. Someone you don't have to woo." It hurt his pride a little more than he thought it should have.

"What?" Malachai gave him a shocked look. "You make it sound easy! You make it sound like I haven't been busting my ass trying to even get you to the point where I can stay in the same room as you!" His index finger made an accusatory jabbing motion through the air at Severus, "It shouldn't have been this hard, but you've hated me from the start, over the office thing. I wasn't expecting having to contend with that. Most of your types… they're lonely. They give in easy, especially when it's a pretty young thing like me."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I'm not the type you thought I was."

Malachai shook his head ruefully. "You know, I'm just realizing that. I think that's why I like you."

"You like me."

"Yeah."

"But you just said you were using me."

"That was my earlier motivation. Now I see I went after completely the wrong staff member." Malachai winked at him.

Severus tried very hard to hate him. It didn't work. It should've been easy… the man was winking at him. It was so… cheesy. This surrender that was taking place inside him was a sickening thing, but he couldn't even hate that. He felt… complacent. No, that was the wrong word. Something about the word 'complacent' did not seem to accurately express the intensity of his erection.

"Exactly whom do you think you should have gone after?"

"Filch, probably."

Severus felt ill. He must've looked it, too, because Malachai laughed, though it sounded slightly self-depreciating in nature.

"Malachai, Filch is not your type. And if Filch were gay, he'd probably end up with a 'greasy old git' like me. What a pair we'd be." Now that was depressing. The Vampire beside him laughed, though now he looked ill too. "Thus, nor am I your type. You're supposed to have some nice vampiric Dusty in your life; some blonde Norse barbarian who's two thousand years old and flexes his muscles for good conversation."

Malachai slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sudden laughter that was shaking his shoulders. The sheets slipped down from under his arms and pooled at his lap, exposing a nice expanse of creamy white flesh. Unable to help himself, Severus' eyes traced the planes of his torso, eyeing his rosy pink nipples and hairless, bone-white skin as if it were an illusion to be distrusted. Malachai was not a classic male beauty; he had none of Lucius' strong chest and pectorals, and he was skinny enough to be mistaken for a very flat-chested girl.

Not that that particularly mattered.

Severus watched Malachai's face for a moment and finally placed the Greek features he should've noticed earlier; but for the paleness of his skin and those infuriatingly blue eyes, it was obvious. The nose, the cheekbones, the forehead, the full, sensual mouth were all recognizably Mediterranean.

"I couldn't stand a man like that," Malachai intoned huskily, startling Severus out of his reverie. He leaned in closer, as if expecting a kiss. "I need someone intelligent."

Severus leaned in as well, enjoying the vampire's nearness for a moment before he delivered his line. "To make up for your own meager intellect, of course," he said sweetly.

Visibly grinding his teeth, Malachai sat back and twisted his lips into a grimace. "You see? Why would I want deserved worship from a handsome man when I can have a nasty old bastard like you insulting me while contemplating his hard on?"

That sobered Severus some. He lowered his gaze, supposing it was now or never. "Speaking of which…."

Malachai gasped a little. "Going to ask me to pleasure you? You're shameless," he insisted, though instead of sounding upset, he seemed more titillated by the idea.

Severus frowned firmly and looked back up at him. "I was going to say that it was evil, what I did. When I raped you."

Surprise showed on the Vampire's features, and then he looked concerned. "I told you; you didn't rape me. I could've stopped that at any time."

"How?" Severus demanded sharply, angered.

Malachai stifled a snicker. "I'm a Vampire. We're stronger, faster, and just generally more talented than humans."

"Generally more talented," Snape repeated dryly, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Not to mention, more egotistical."

Malachai nodded, as if there were nothing wrong with this. "Believe me, I should know; I started out human. Compared to me then, being this is incredible. I'm stronger than the best weightlifters, faster than Olympic runners, and the magical power I wield is enough to make Albus blush."

Severus frowned and folded his hands in his lap so as not to strangle the man. "Now you're being mendacious. Vampires have never shown a great aptitude for magic. I've only ever seen you show a modicum of magical ability." He snapped, realizing he sounded harsher than he'd intended, but not caring. There was no way he was going to let Malachai get away with calling himself stronger than Dumbledore. It just wasn't possible, and the very idea offended him.

"I wasn't talking about wizard's magic," Malachai corrected quickly, watching Severus apologetically. "I was talking about blood magic. I only meant that I can do things that wizards can't."

Severus let this sink in, though his expression did not change. Blood magic was a sore subject for him since the Vampire had crashed into his life. "So you'd say you're fairly adept at this type of magic." He was thinking ahead again, to Voldemort's intent. Lucius had said that Malachai was powerful and influential, but now that he was getting to know Malachai better, he was having a hard time with that image. It seemed to suggest a Vampire who radiated power; some sophisticated, wizened diplomat. Malachai, however, was none of these things. He was egotistical and acted very young, and there was nothing about him that suggested sophistication or power.

Malachai nodded. His expression turned hopeful. "Yes, but you're right, I'm not very good with wizardry. I was never very good at it."

"And you haven't improved?"

Shaking his head, the Vampire seemed to relax. Apparently he thought himself forgiven for his earlier mistake. "It's actually something that fades with time. The less human we become, the worse we seem to get in our wizardry abilities."

"Oh. I suppose that would make sense," Severus replied, though truthfully he had no idea. "But you are powerful? In your own right?"

Malachai shrugged. "Depends on what you compare me to."

Severus tried not to let his frustration show, but it was difficult. He supposed he would just have to trust the Death Eaters' information. "Alright. Nevermind; it isn't important."

Something was niggling in the back of his mind, and it might've been guilt. He looked at this pretty boy who seemed utterly at ease and confident in his presence, and he felt bad. These new emotions he lumped into the pile with the other false ones that had been forced upon him by who knew what - Malachai himself, his blood magic, probably a combination of both - but knowing them for what they were didn't help the unease he was suddenly feeling about this whole situation.

If he wanted to be honest with himself - odd, how it was so difficult sometimes - it had started with Lucius' fire call. He'd told Lucius that nothing had changed, but obviously that had been false. He'd said that his plans would go along as promised - and they would have to, or he could be risking more than he could afford to - but he didn't really want to turn Malachai over.

He realized that as of this morning, he suddenly cared very much that Malachai lived. Why were these emotions bombarding him?

For a moment, he considered a plan for turning Malachai into a double agent within Voldemort's ranks like he was, and then realized how irrational that was. He couldn't afford to risk his own life, he reminded himself. But how good were the odds of Malachai agreeing to help Voldemort, knowing as he did that Malachai considered himself Albus' friend? Did he already know of Voldemort? Could he be Albus' friend and not know what was going on?

He looked at Malachai, who seemed content to sit in silence and look back. Malachai had seen him naked. Had he noticed the Dark Mark on Severus' arm? He recalled Malachai mentioning death eaters before, but that didn't nessisarily mean he knew as much as he'd let on.... There were too many questions that needed answers, and Severus had no way to find out anything without giving himself away.

Severus tried a new tactic. "How long have you known Albus?"

Malachai smiled wistfully, as if remembering. "A long time," he said, looking as though he would laugh. His eyes focused on a point over Severus' shoulder. "I met him when he was just a boy. When we last met, he was still a young man. It was quite a shock to see him this time; so much time had passed. It made me feel old."

Eyeing Malachai askance, Severus figured it couldn't hurt to ask. "How old were you when you met?" He was more than a little surprised to hear that Malachai was even old enough to have known Dumbledore as a boy.

"I don't know; old."

Brows shooting up towards his hairline, Severus sat forward a little. "You were old when he was young? How old?"

"I don't know." The Vampire shook his head, "Honestly, I don't. I can't remember how old I am. I can't remember when it was that I was born, or when I was turned; I only remember that I wasn't much into adulthood when it happened."

"When you say 'turned', you mean 'became a Vampire'?"

"Yes, that's what it's called." Malachai's eyes still held a distant glaze to them. "I doubt I would've remembered how it had happened if not for the Vampire who sired me - I still see him now and again."

"Have you ever done that to someone else?"

"No; not yet. I haven't had the desire to." Malachai shifted in the bed, stretching one leg out beside Severus so that it just touched his knee, but he didn't seem to notice.

Severus certainly did. His absent touch was electric; it made him want more. But it also made him realize that he hadn't looked at the clock in what felt like an eternity.

He stared at the hand a little more than halfway between "dawn" and "breakfast". The best thing would be to get Malachai back to his own room before anyone would be up to notice. "It's getting late."

Malachai's weight on the bed lifted, and Severus turned to look just as the Vampire dropped himself into Severus' lap, winding skinny arms around his neck. "Don't you mean 'early'?"

Severus pushed at the little arms, but felt not one iota of resistance. He tried again with the ribs, and again nothing gave, even with the considerable strength advantage he should've had. "You are strong."

"Toldja. I could've gotten away easily before those ropes ever appeared."

Oh Merlin, that. "You really liked that. Me forcing myself on you."

"Just as much as I like any other kind of sex," Malachai responded cheerfully.

That caused a bit of relief. Severus wasn't sure he would've been comfortable having to play that role every time.

What did I say 'every time' for? Bollocks. This was not good.

Laughter brought him back to Malachai's face. "Don't look so worried, Sunshine."

Bloody bollocky hell. Not 'Sunshine' again. "Don't call me that. And would you get off of me? You may be small, but you're not that light. You need to get back to your own room."

Malachai shifted, but not to get up. Severus found himself staring down at the creamy expanse of the Vampire's neck. It took all his control not to map the smooth surface with kisses.

'Honestly, get a hold of yourself, man. Think about who you are.'

Severus frowned at the thought, and arched his head away. "I don't think you want anyone seeing you leaving my rooms," he added gravely. His hands had moved to the sheets, and he found himself keenly aware that they were not touching Malachai. It was all he could do to keep them away.

Another thought suddenly occurred to Severus. He looked down, and found himself staring down at the Vampire's half-erect cock. Behind Malachai were the blankets he'd abandoned in favor of Severus' lap. "Where did your clothes go?"

Malachai made an irritated noise. "You are so obsessed with clothes. It's not healthy."

Severus watched with detached fascination as he fisted Malachai's length. The Vampire moaned throatily and gripped him tighter, shifting to give Severus better access. His cock stiffened and grew rapidly within Severus' hand, and as the skin grew rosy, heat began to radiate from it. It was the only part of Malachai that ever seemed to get warm. He pumped the shaft with slow, experimental strokes, listening to the smaller man groan as he threw his head back and bucked his hips.

Severus didn't know why he was doing this. Certainly, he'd just told Malachai to leave. And now he was initiating things. This was wrong. He knew he ought to stop, but he didn't.

Morning classes were spent in a constant state of distraction, though they went noticeably better than the last few days' were. Malachai was always on his mind, whether he was shouting at a student over an assignment, shouting at a student for being disruptive, or shouting at a student for generally being stupid.

At least classes were again productive.

All he could think about was Malachai. All morning, warm fuzzy thoughts about a Vampire. It wasn't right.

At lunch, he took the new route he'd been using that took him past the Defense room, and pushed Malachai back inside as he'd come walking out, ignoring his surprised squawk as Severus propelled them both inside the classroom and shut the door.

"Alright, tell me what's going on."

Malachai recovered quickly, smoothing down his second hand robes and staring at him as if he'd gone mad. "Hello to you too, Sunshine."

"Go to Hell. Tell me what's going on."

Malachai looked thoughtful, tapping his chin with one finger. "Before or after I go to Hell? Does your floo connect with Hell? I wouldn't be that surprised…"

Impatience swept over Severus' features. "I know you know what I'm referring to. Tell me where these aberrant thoughts are coming from. They bloody well aren't my own," he snapped.

"What aberrantl thoughts? You mean wishing I were in Hell? I can see your problem; you'd be so lonely if I weren't around." Malachai batted eyelashes at him.

Severus grabbed hold of the Vampire's shoulders and shook him. "You know what thoughts I mean! Ever since I woke up next to you this morning…" he broke off suddenly, glancing around him, with the horrible thought that he'd just said that at a dull shout, and anyone could be around, listening. The room was empty, however. He steered their bodies further in, away from the door. When he looked back to Tomaren, the Vampire was smiling at him.

"I like that. 'When I woke up next to you this morning.' Didn't that sound nice? You should have more cause to say that." A boyish hand ran over Severus' hip, then settled at his back as Malachai moved in closer.

Severus couldn't really think of a good reason to push him away, so he didn't. It lit a yearning inside him that swept away all concepts of 'unnatural', for what could be unnatural about wanting this body flush against his own? What could possibly be wrong about any of this, when his brain and his prick were telling him it was so very right? He ground his newfound arousal into Malachai, hip to hip as they were, and why shouldn't he? This, something within him realized, was where he belonged.

Breath coming quicker, Severus' hands fought to find Malachai's body amongst all that black material. "Yes, very nice," he seemed to agree, though even he wasn't sure if he was agreeing with what Malachai had said, or commenting on the current state of things. Malachai looked at him from beneath lowered lashes, pressing back against him, eyes knowing and predatory.

"Still," Severus managed, after great effort, "It's not… normal. I wasn't having these thoughts before… before last night." Malachai leaned in then, and let out a throaty little moan, directly into Severus' ear. "Not that… I'm complaining, mind," Severus amended, one hand cupping the Vampire's rear to draw him closer, the other fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

Malachai began undulating against him, rolling his hips in small waves. His arms wound around Severus and clung to him tightly. "You'd better not be," he whispered, and something about his tone made Severus suspect that he wasn't the only one having trouble thinking.

"But… still," Severus pressed, determined to find his answers, "This is your doing, isn't it? What did you do to me?"

"It's a… bond that develops." Malachai finally responded, though he wasn't looking at Severus, and his forehead was pushed against the wizard's shoulder. "Between hunter and prey. It's because I fed from you twice."

Severus was sure that this news would've been a significant surprise, had he been in a better position to care. "I really hate Vampires," he uttered fiercely, giving up on the puzzle of Malachai's clothing and deciding instead to free his own cock. "So does that mean it affects you too?"

Malachai nodded fiercely, letting go of Severus to help him with his buttons. Severus was suddenly angry with himself for wearing all this complicated clothing. He had to take off two layers of robes to get to his pants, which just had to be the most ridiculously frustrating task ever.

Just as he'd shucked the outermost layer and thrown it to the floor, he heard an angry meow somewhere off to his right. Slowly dragging his eyes up to the room in dread, Severus noticed the angry-looking Siamese trotting down the stairs that led to Tomaren's office.

The cat yowled again, louder, in obvious discontent. Though Severus had stilled, Malachai was still working at his buttons. "Fuck off," the Vampire offered, not looking up from his task. Severus' ardor had cooled suddenly very quickly, and he put a hand on Malachai's shoulder to stop him as he watched the little cat sit on the third step up. Severus recognized Dusty's glare from some time spent around Minerva's feline form, and two guesses as to why he was angry.

"Malachai, stop."

The Vampire looked up at him, then straightened and turned to Dusty. "Do you mind?" he asked, with greater irritation than Severus had ever previously heard from him.

Severus watched the cat glance from them to the door of the classroom, and back, expectantly. Something unspoken seemed to be passing between Vampire and animagus, and then Malachai growled angrily, "Turn into a human and open the damned door yourself. You're not incapable."

The cat made a low rumbling noise in his throat. Severus glanced back at the door. "Do you really want a human Dusty roaming the halls?"

Malachai sighed, and let go of Severus completely. "I don't want Dusty roaming the halls, period. Let me go escort him back to my room… you could come with me, and then we could go on to lunch together?" He looked back to Severus hopefully.

Shaking his head, the potions master frowned. "I don't think it would be wise to be seen together."

Watching Malachai's face begin to cloud over with emotion, Severus arched an eyebrow, expression molding into one of dry composure. "Don't you think it would look a tad suspicious?"

"You don't have to be so cold about it," Malachai mumbled unhappily, folding his arms across his chest.

With a derisive smile, Severus shook his head. "This is the way I am. If you are going to continue this association that you have been so persistent about with me, you must accept that."

"'Association'," Malachai repeated despondently, "Right."

Sighing, Severus let some of the hauteur from his expression slip. "Listen to me," he steadied his gaze onto Malachai's youthful face until the Vampire met it. "This is who I am," Severus continued, planting a hand on his chest meaningfully, "Cold, blunt, and judgmental. Accept it, or leave. But don't think that it means that I don't feel something for you. I do. Whether or not this something is entirely natural seems to be a moot point. I welcome your presence now. Your touch affects me like nothing else. Your eyes reflect the truth I don't want to face. I cannot turn away from you, and I do not want to." Severus watched Malachai's face break into a smile, his eyes lighting up with delight. Guilt panged within him anew as he thought ahead to the weekend. "But surely you understand why we cannot suddenly be seen skipping arm-in-arm down the hallway together."

Malachai's posture turned serious again. "This isn't just about the whole 'you being in the closet' thing though, right?"

Severus pulled a sour face. "Your eloquence stuns me. But no, this isn't just about that."

The Vampire nodded, manner turning mild. "Alright then. I grudgingly accept your terms. However…"

Oh, now suddenly Malachai sounded as if he were negotiating a business deal. His perversity made it hard not to smirk. "Yes?"

"I do so under protest. And. I want lots of secret rendezvous. You can't talk about my eyes and expect to get off scot-free."

Severus was certain it was no longer within his capabilities to resist the Vampire physically as well as mentally and socially. Two down, as the saying went. The only thing he had left was his public life. "Alright," he agreed, trying not to smile.