Author's Notes: No warnings for this chapter, except perhaps for the surprise ending. L Thanks so much to my beta, killerthecat, for helping me and sticking with me over this long journey, and thanks so much to all the people who read and reviewed. Without my beta and the reviewers to give me encouragement, I would've given up on it long ago. This fic will always have special meaning to me, even if it does have a dreaded OMC (two, even)! snickers So thanks especially to everyone who liked Malachai and Dusty.

Another Year, Another DADA Professor
Chapter 12, "Beginnings"

"Severus," Narcissa called out in her smoky alto, drawing the attention of her companion as well as everyone near the bar.

Bugger. How had she seen his face? Still, she was waving, and Malachai was staring at him with the oddest mixture of surprise and interest on his face. He couldn't bolt now, so he wandered over.

"About time you arrived."

What? Severus stared at Narcissa in what was undoubtedly shock as she pulled out a chair for him.

"I was just telling this gentleman here that I was awaiting your arrival," Narcissa explained, smiling at him with a brilliant flash of white teeth. "Mister… I'm sorry, I'm terrible with names. What did you say it was?"

"Ouzomanopopolis."

Severus arched a dry brow Malachai's way.

"Yes, Mister Ozo.. well, you know. Severus, don't stare like that. He's Greek." Narcissa smiled apologetically to Malachai, then regarded Severus again. "Anyway, he was just keeping me company while I awaited you. So horrible, he is, making me wait like this." Her smile was still brilliant.

"Yes, very ungentlemanly," Malachai said, in a very thick Grecian accent. "Is not right to treat ladies this way."

Severus wrenched his stare from Malachai back to Narcissa. What the bloody hell was she on about?

"Well," Narcissa said, frozen mid smile, expectant, "What kept you?"

It was several moments before Severus could muster the will to speak. "I am sorry, Narcissa.. I was.. detained. At work."

She laughed, a rich sound that would have been sexy had Severus the slightest interest in women at all. "My Severus is so formal, sometimes. Relax, dear," she added, pushing back his hood so it fell against his shoulders, "Mr. Ozo doesn't mind, I'm sure." She leaned in and gave Severus a kiss on the cheek. He could feel the smudge of her lipstick as she pulled back, laughing lightly at his continued silence.

This wasn't Narcissa. Severus' mind worked quickly, fretting over the puzzle pieces. She looked like Narcissa and sounded like Narcissa, though closer he heard subtle differences in pitch and timbre. And furthermore, she wouldn't have known he would be here. No one would have, actually. More importantly, Narcissa wouldn't kiss his cheek or call him dear; she had a husband, after all.

She had a husband.

How had Lucius got a hold of Narcissa's hair for the Polyjuice potion? When had Lucius learned to brew such a thing?

Or was Narcissa in on it, too? She'd always received fair marks in potions. Lucius must've been in contact with her. Hiding with Severus, visiting his wife during the daytimes. Scheming, behind Severus' back. Severus was so startled, he almost said Lucius' name out loud.

Oh, he wasn't going to involve himself since he was on the lam, eh? Severus should've known Lucius wouldn't be able to keep away. Bugger. And that meant Lucius had expected him to come, as well. How had he anticipated that?

Oh no. Lucius thought… Lucius thought Severus had come to sabotage the plans. He'd gone on the mission tonight, disguised, to ensure Severus wouldn't interfere. And the fact that Severus had come made him look guilty. Bugger.

"Well, thank you for waiting with me, Mister Ozo. Severus, hadn't we best be on our way? We don't want to hold our friends up." She smiled graciously at Malachai.

Severus rose, unable to see any other choice, and held out his arm for Narcissa to take.

"Goodbye, Miss Black," Malachai said cheerfully, nigh unintelligible with his thick accent, "Pleasure to be meeting you."

"You too," Narcissa replied with a nod of her head, taking Severus' arm primly and leading him out of the restaurant. Severus risked a glance over his shoulder at Malachai, who wasn't looking their way.

Severus pulled his hood up when they got outside, as did 'Narcissa', and he noticed that her cloak too had been charmed to repel the rain. She lead them away from the Three Broomsticks, in the opposite direction Severus had arrived from. They were heading for the edge of the village, and Severus thought Lucius was going to drag him out entirely when they reached the last few shops, but instead, Lucius pulled him around a building and shoved him with considerable strength against a brick wall. Well, more strength than Narcissa had ever shown.

She glared at him, pointed her wand at herself and muttered a quick charm, and accused him with Lucius' voice.

"Come to warn your little boyfriend, Severus?"

That was beyond disturbing. Narcissa's face, spouting Lucius' voice.

"No, I –"

"Honestly, Severus, why else would you be here? I thought you might try this. We're going to wait right here until they've got the little leech under control, to make certain you can't ruin anything."

"I wasn't planning on ruining anything," Severus protested, inwardly panicking. Why had he come here, if not that? He couldn't think of a reason, and he doubted Lucius would accept, 'I wanted to watch'. Because… Why would he have wanted to watch? What purpose would that have served? It had seemed like a valid enough reason earlier, but…

But he wasn't a man in control of his own mind. Malachai was an alien presence in there, giving him false thoughts of affection and care. That part of his mind had tricked him into coming down here. He would've warned Malachai, he realized suddenly. Lucius was right. He had been about to sabotage their plans.

Something else was bothering Severus. He ignored the feeling of coarse brick against his shoulder blades and looked Lucius-as-Narcissa in the eyes. "Why do you sound so certain he won't agree to come along?"

Narcissa smiled, a deadly snake-smile he'd never seen on her lips before. "Because we aren't asking him his consent. He's going to our Lord as our prisoner."

Something about that didn't make sense. "Don't you think that'll strain our chances of getting the Vampires to agree to an alliance?"

"It would," Lucius agreed, Narcissa's bright eyes sparkling, "If that's what we sought to accomplish."

Oh.

"You look surprised, Severus. Did I leave out that bit?" He fluffed Narcissa's curls and batted her eyelashes at Severus in a frightening fashion. "Silly me, I forget my own name sometimes, I swear."

"What… what do you want him for?"

Narcissa laughed with Lucius' rich chuckle. "The Philosopher's Stone may have been destroyed, but there's more than one way to become immortal."

"Our Lord.. wishes to become a Vampire?"

"Not just a Vampire, Severus," Lucius tutted, shaking Narcissa's blonde curls. "If He'd just wanted to become a Vampire, He could have picked up any one lurking around, and avoided all this extensive trouble. No, we have found Him not simply any Vampire, but Nicodemus Bekyros de la Roche, a Shadowmancer and Master Vampire."

Severus instantly thought of Malachai's broken watch, which he'd stuffed in the back of a drawer. N. B., Nicodemus Bekyros. "So that's his name."

"You knew he was using a false name?"

"Obviously, Lucius," Severus snarled, mind catching up with his mouth as he realized how thoroughly he'd been lied to. Lucius' mild irritation, flitting across Narcissa's delicate features, was a joy to see. "Just how thoroughly have I been lied to?"

Narcissa sneered, then watched him with cool indifference. "Nicodemus did not break into your office."

"Who did?" Severus asked, though he wondered if it mattered. Things were suddenly falling into place with that simple knowledge.

"Rocelyn Borgin's mother is an old friend. While she was at the school on an 'emergency visit' to her daughter, she planted the blood, broke into your office, and stole the bezoar."

"What was the purpose of that?" Severus glared and folded his arms. Malachai had been telling the truth, the entire time. The thought did not settle him.

"Why, so you'd become convinced it was Nicodemus, of course," Lucius purred, "and knowing you like I do, it was just what you'd need to not only hate the man enough to help me, but enough to point you in the direction of discovering that he was a vampire. No one makes connections the way you do, love," she said mockingly.

Severus stared. That meant that the Death Eaters had known right from the start where Malachai was. Lucius had known. He'd known, and he'd manipulated Severus effortlessly like a puppet.

"So, what's a Shadowmancer, then?" Severus asked irritably, though he didn't particularly care. What he did care about was that this had all been a trap from the beginning. Malachai had said he'd felt like he'd been herded onto this continent.. right in this direction.. right where the Dark Lord could get his claws into him. Severus felt utterly betrayed by Lucius, and not only that, but the one person who did trust him was the one person he'd handed to the Death Eaters.

"It's a specialized field of Thaumaturgy. Blood magic."

"And what exactly about that is so special that the Dark Lord wants Malachai?" Severus asked. If Lucius was going to hand out answers, he might as well take advantage of it. But what was he going to do?

"Perhaps he'll let you find out firsthand, once I tell him you came here tonight." Narcissa glared.

Severus glared back. "I mean that little to you?"

"You mean to me exactly how much I mean to you," Lucius replied angrily. "I will not be made a fool of. You've chosen your side –"

"No."

"Oh, I believe you have, Severus."

"Lucius – no – it's not what you think. I cannot help it. He told me – it is a bond that develops against the victim's will – he fed from me," Severus said desperately, though he wondered why he was bothering. Lucius hadn't trusted him from the beginning, but perhaps he could convince Lucius he was willing to forgive and forget if it could benefit him later.

Lucius stared at Severus in utter revulsion. Meanwhile, Narcissa's jaw was widening, her hair growing limp – he was changing back. "Just the once?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"No, twice. He told me I wouldn't be able to help it –"

"He's marked you as his own," Lucius said, realization hitting him. His eyes grew wide, but he was interrupted by Narcissa's robes constricting around a body suddenly not woman shaped. Lucius stepped back, drawing his wand and pointing it at Severus even as he undid the fastenings of Narcissa's robes and pulled them off hastily. Underneath, he was clad in one of Severus'.

Eyes that were now steel gray stared back accusatorily at Severus from once-again-Lucius' face. "Take off your cloak."

"What?" Severus asked, instantly alarmed.

"I'm getting wet, and I don't care to be. Give me your cloak. I'm not going to wear a ladies fur-lined cloak now."

Severus stared at the point of Lucius' wand, and begrudgingly removed his cloak.

"And your wand."

"Afraid I'm going to hex you, Lucius?"

"Hand it over, or I will hex you."

What choice did he have? Severus may have believed a number of things this year that were untrue, but he knew what Lucius was capable of, and what Lucius would do to him – lover or not. And hexing Lucius would only confirm his guilt anyway, so he handed over both wand and cloak.

Lucius pocketed Severus' wand, then donned his cloak, smoothing his hair under the hood.

Rain dribbled down on Severus' head, despite the building's overhang. A brilliant end to the day.

"You'll have to be taken, too. I shall have to look and see how long the detoxification takes," Lucius muttered, glaring. He folded his arms, but still kept his wand trained on Severus.

"Detoxification?"

"You said yourself a bond had developed. The more a Vampire bites you, the more toxins your system absorbs."

"Toxins?" Severus was thoroughly confused.

"You didn't know this?" Lucius looked amused. "The man who so desperately wants to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts doesn't know that Vampires' bites are toxic?"

"That isn't exactly in the text," Severus muttered irritably.

"Not if you're going from one of Lockhart's books, certainly."

"Oh, let's not go down that lane, Lucius," Severus spit, enraged enough to consider yanking the wand out of Lucius' grasp and snapping it in two – however briefly.

"I'm surprised your lover didn't tell you," Lucius returned spitefully.

"Of course not, he's the one who bloody well bit me and then took advantage of his ruddy 'bond' developing, that little wanker," Severus seethed, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders as rain dribbled uncomfortably down his neck.

Lucius didn't reply with another barb, surprising Severus. He looked thoughtful now.

Which was fine, because just then, Severus' attention was drawn to the sky, where he saw the tail edge of a glittering green mark lighting up the night sky. "Mosmorde," Severus whispered, affecting awe.

Lucius whirled around, then grabbed Severus' sleeve and dragged him back around the building. Now free of the overhang, rain pelted down on them, as if some being were sitting in the sky, dumping bucketfuls of water directly over Severus' head. His hair instantly became plastered to his face and neck, and his clothes were soaked through a moment later.

"That's the signal. They've got him."

"So soon." Severus hadn't even realized he'd spoken it aloud, quiet as it was, but Lucius responded, making him start.

"All that was required was to lure him out of the restaurant, which I believe us leaving did. Ah, that must be Rodolphus' mosmorde," Lucius commented, "his did always burn the most brightly."

"Yours looks like a bloody ponce has drawn it."

"Shut up, Severus."

Severus of course had no intention of doing so, but before he could offer further comment, someone Apparated in next to them. The hood on their cloak was drawn back to reveal Walden Macnair, and he was bleeding from an angry looking wound on his forehead.

"Lucius! We're having some trouble. We need your help to subdue it."

"What?" Lucius whipped around to face Macnair, raising his wand and casting Lumos. The light revealed that Macnair's cloak had been slashed in places, and the dark fabric of it was stained with something other than rainwater. "I thought you had him already – the mark's already in the sky, you idiot! You don't cast the mark before you catch him!"

"Obviously," Macnair shouted, eyes wide and desperate, "You have to come now! We had him, but all of a sudden he went bleeding mad on us and—"

"Why did no one – never mind. Lead on." Lucius' voice had panicked as well, making Severus realize he wasn't as confident about this operation as he seemed.

Macnair took off at a sprint and Lucius hurried to follow. Neither of them had given Severus another thought, but Severus shot off after them anyway. Lucius had his wand, he told himself, and that was why he was following. Not because he was heeding the desperate compulsion to seek out Malachai, no. Not at all.

Their heavy footsteps splashed through puddles and sent up constant sprays of water, not that Severus could feel the difference, soaked through and shivering as he was. It did, however, impede his vision, and he barely kept track of what turns the running forms of Lucius and Macnair took. He couldn't even tell where they were headed, with the rain so dense in the dimly lit streets.

Then he turned a corner at a wide angle, tripped, and saw a bolt of blue light flash just to the left of his stumbling body. Straightening quickly, Severus turned his head towards the direction the curse had been fired from, and saw a most desperate scene indeed.

Three bodies lay still on the wet pavement, and three more live ones were trying desperately to hang on to a thrashing figure. They were behind a building, but Severus had no idea which one. Lucius and Macnair were running straight for the thrashing figure who Severus was certain was Malachai, though while Macnair charged straight for the Vampire and tried to latch on as the others were, Lucius hung back.

"Get off him you idiots! I can't curse him if – oh sod it –" Lucius shouted, and fired off a curse.

It hit Macnair squarely between the shoulders and he dropped from the pile. With a roar, Malachai used the distraction to toss another one of his attackers to the ground, and Severus got a look at his face – papery skin stretched too tight over high cheekbones. Eyes wide with too much white locked on his, and Severus felt the desperate urge to throw himself at the other Death Eaters, to come to the aid of this strange monster.

He rushed forward, hands spread in front of him, with the vague idea that he could tear the other two off Malachai as if they weighed no more than feathers. Triumph soared through his blood as his icy fingers twisted numbly in the spelled cloth of a dry cloak, and he caught the surprised gaze of Rodolphus Lestrange through a mat of wet hair before he froze completely.

Severus tried to thrash, to command his body to surge free of whatever it was holding him, desperately, only thinking belatedly that he must've been hit with a stunning charm. Rodolphus shoved him away, and Severus' motionless body toppled over backwards. He felt the pavement strike him sharply in the back of his head, and then all he could see was the sky.

The stars were bright, Severus noticed, though he was still commanding his body to move, to no avail. Rain poured down into wide open eyes and stung mercilessly as he heard boots splash past at a full run. Shouting continued, things like, "Get out of the way!" "You idiot!" "Stop him!" and "Don't let him go for the road!"

Then he heard Malachai's voice, raised in a scream, vowing murder most bloody. There was a flash of light that lit up the sky, a dull thunk, and a cry of triumph from what must have been the Death Eaters. Severus felt a thrill of panic, wondering if he'd be taken back to headquarters with Malachai or if Lucius was feeling spiteful enough to leave him here, and then someone was levitating him off the ground.

The pain in his eyes was growing more acute, and he couldn't see anything anymore. Severus wondered if it was possible to go blind from this. Lucius was shouting orders, but the sound was distant, and then all was silent for a few long minutes. Finally he heard approaching footsteps, and someone grasped one of his arms almost painfully tight. He felt the familiar pull as they Disapparated.

A moment later, they were in a bright room that Severus couldn't see, but at least rain water was no longer pelting down on his eyes, even though they still burned badly. At least his mouth hadn't been open. He recognized Rabastian Lestrange's "Petrificus totalus," and then fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap as the levitation and stunning charms ended abruptly.

The first thing he did was shut his eyes tight and draw his limbs closer protectively.

"What should I do with him?" That was Rabastian again.

More footsteps, this time the sound of boots echoing across a stone floor. Stone floor? They weren't in Headquarters, then. The footsteps halted quite close to his ears, and for a moment or two, there was silence. Severus waited, sopping wet, breath in his throat, wondering if his fate were being decided.

"Well, the vampire looked hungry, didn't it?"

Severus tried to protest, but in his panic at those calmly spoken words, he let out a wordless, sputtered shout, and nothing more. Before he could try again, a hand was yanking him roughly to his feet. He felt hot breath on his cold face, but didn't open his eyes. "Lucius –"

"Toss him in."

"Lucius!"

Stumbling as someone shoved him, Severus tried to halt his forward momentum, to lash out blindly with fists at whoever had done it.

"What's wrong with you?" Lucius demanded from behind Severus, "Why do you have your eyes closed?"

When Severus didn't answer, Lucius stepped in between his punches and shoved Severus forward again, one hand between his shoulder blades.

Severus' arm was caught when he stumbled and almost fell. He heard the scraping of metal on metal; a door opening. A kick to the back of one knee sent him sprawling forward several feet, palms skidding against the rough stone floor, and then he heard the door slam behind him.

Silence. Nothing moved, nothing breathed. Severus opened his stinging eyes and was met with only darkness. The line of light under the door provided no illumination. And Lucius still had his wand. No windows. The prisoner's whole world would become this small room, he knew. A cell. He was in a cell.

"Malachai? It's Severus – don't -"

Severus heard absolutely nothing before the body slammed into his. He coughed again, writhing desperately under the sudden weight pinning him down. Fingernails scraped his hair away from his neck, and Malachai shifted over him, then like a striking viper bit down and easily punctured flesh. Severus only felt the barest of stings before pleasure overwhelmed pain.

Severus cried out in ecstasy, body arching against the Vampire on top of him. He felt something stiff prod him in the valley of his arse, cold and wet from the material of his soaked trousers, but thoughts were fuzzing out completely. He floated along on a continuous wave of lust, aware only of that and a wonderful draining feeling, as if all his stress and pain was being slowly drawn from his body. He relaxed in the embrace of the Vampire above him, eyes slipping closed once more.

When he became aware of himself next it was to realize that he had passed out at some point. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed, or even what time of day it was. He was shivering with an inner cold, and his clothes were still fairly sopping. Once again, he felt as though he hadn't actually gotten any rest; in fact, he felt quite exhausted.

He felt drained.

Salazar, how much blood had he lost? Severus remembered Malachai's waxen face, those desperate, hungry eyes… and Malachai had never left him feeling like this before. He'd scarce noticed the missing blood when he'd woken after sleeping the other two times.

They wouldn't help him. If Malachai had taken too much… if they didn't let him out of here….

He couldn't think about that. Severus struggled to sit upright, feeling around for the wall to prop himself against. He situated himself with some difficulty, peering around the room. His head throbbed, though his eyes were only a dull ache in his skull now, but he had no idea how his sight was; there was no light to illuminate the darkness down here.

Was Malachai in here? Had they taken him out? It was more disconcerting that Severus couldn't tell. And he wanted so desperately to know.

"Malachai?"

Silence stretched out. Severus sighed; the only sound in the room. He was about to start worrying about what they could be doing with the Vampire when he heard a very quiet, meek, "Yes?"

Severus couldn't help the relief that flooded him. "How long have we been in here?"

Again, another long pause. "I don't know. I can't tell. Are you.. alright?"

Malachai's voice sounded very different than Severus was used to hearing. It lacked the usual cocky confidence, and Severus realized, with a sick feeling, that the Vampire was scared.

Severus swung his head around to face the direction Malachai's voice came from, and his head swam from sudden dizziness. Wincing, he answered, "Not really."

"I'm sorry. I took too much blood."

"Oh, really?" Severus asked, putting as much sarcasm into his tone as he could muster, but it paled before what he usually achieved. He shouldn't have moved his head, obviously, but it was disconcerting talking to a disembodied voice.

"I'm sorry," Malachai repeated, in that same soft, scared voice. "I couldn't help myself. I was so hungry…"

"Yes, of course," Severus muttered, just hoping Malachai would shut up. He'd been so worried that Malachai wasn't here, and now he was wishing for it, because he didn't want to listen to the Vampire tell him how he'd lost control so completely. That no matter what else happened, Malachai was still a monster, not a man. A dangerous monster, no matter what he might say, and thus Severus could not trust him.

Apparently his short reply had been interpreted correctly, because the Vampire offered nothing further.

Oh Merlin, his head ached, and it was difficult to move. He felt so tired, so sluggish, but even more than that, he felt so… thirsty. His throat was full of sand, his stomach painfully empty, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so desperately parched.

"How much blood did you take?" Severus asked, not able to stand the silence. Talking would distract him from the throbbing pain in his head, hopefully, from how desperately his stomach cramped with hunger.

"Too much," the Vampire said again, and then his voice came a bit stronger as he added, "I'm so sorry, Severus! I took too much, but I was so thirsty…" His voice had almost taken on a dreamlike quality.

So thirsty, Severus agreed. Yes, so was he.

"You keep saying 'too much'," Severus replied, trying to focus on that and keep himself irritated, distract himself from the pain. "What is too much?"

"It's alright though," Malachai said, and suddenly he was kneeling before Severus, cold hands on either side of his face. "It's alright," he breathed, and Severus caught the scent of blood. "I saved you. I couldn't let you die," Malachai added, but Severus was concentrating on a scent he'd never really noticed before. Oh, it was familiar enough, from his time amongst the Death Eaters, but he'd never given that particular scent a definable name. Now, however… Now, he knew exactly how blood smelled.

"Let me die?" Severus repeated, swallowing, which hurt his dry throat. "I was dying?"

"I saved you," Malachai insisted, stroking Severus' cheeks. "I saved you."

"How?" This was irritating; Malachai was just babbling now.

Before the Vampire could answer, they were interrupted by the metal door shrieking as it was pulled open, light spilling into the room. Severus winced, slitting his eyes and shading them with one hand. The light hurt after so much time in the dark, not to mention his eyes stinging with water to begin with. Malachai shrunk back into the shadows, and Severus thought that was a fine idea, but he didn't move, trying to make out who was standing in the doorway.

Behind him, Malachai made an odd hissing noise, and Severus noticed a wand being pointed in their general direction. Severus felt the urge to laugh, imagining Malachai coiled and hissing like a cornered cat, but laughing would probably hurt more.

"So you're not dead."

Lucius. He sounded so… disinterested.

"Thought you said 'detoxify'," Severus rasped, wishing he didn't sound so pathetic.

"Well, you aren't dead. Perhaps we shall, before we present you both to the Dark Lord. Right now, however," Lucius began, but that was as far as he got before he was being knocked back through the door by a black form.

Severus thought, at first, that it was Malachai, but he was staring right at it as Lucius shouted, and Malachai's voice was in his ear, a hand on his leg. "We've got to get out now, Severus."

He sounded so calm. Severus felt calm, too, at that touch. He watched Lucius wrestle with the black form, toss curses that passed harmlessly right through it.

"Shouldn't we… do something?"

"You're too weak. We have to leave."

"Just… leave?"

"Do you have a problem with escaping?" Malachai asked, his voice suddenly frank and more as it usually sounded.

"It just seems so easy," Severus snapped, then decided that had been a mistake, because his jaw ached quite badly.

"Well, we do have to find our way out of here first," Malachai said, standing and offering Severus a hand.

"I don't think there are anti-Apparation wards here."

"You're in no condition, and I can't. So if you'd like to stand up, we'll limp out the door." Malachai's gaze cut back to Lucius, still shouting and rolling around on the floor.

"What's he wrestling with?"

"A shadow."

Severus suddenly wanted to laugh. "I'm thirsty."

"Me too. Let me grab a bite before we go."

Severus glanced at Lucius, then very carefully climbed to his feet without Malachai's aid. He stood, reeled dizzily for a few moments, and then fell against the Vampire, who staggered a bit under his weight. "Aren't you… How can you be thirsty?" Severus asked, not sounding nearly as indignant as he'd have liked. "You certainly took plenty from me!"

"Yes, but… Look, this really isn't a good time to explain. I need to feed."

Finally, something Lucius threw at the shadow banished it, and as he struggled to his feet, Malachai launched himself out the door like a pouncing jungle cat and sent them both sprawling to the ground.

Severus leaned against the cell door, then recalled that Lucius still had his wand. He shifted out of the doorway and into the main room, wondering if he could get the wand away from him before he hexed Malachai. But as Malachai's head fell to his neck, Lucius let out one strangled cry, and then abruptly stopped thrashing.

Oh, right.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Severus knelt down next to his lover and plucked his wand from unresisting fingers. After another thought, he rummaged through Lucius' pockets and found his own wand, a tube of lipstick, and Lucius' purse. Severus left the lipstick, but figured he could use the bag of galleons. "For rent," he murmured, patting Lucius' limp wrist. He glanced at Malachai, who had one small hand holding the hair out of his face, and so he got a good look at the mouth attached to Lucius' neck, saw the throat working as he swallowed blood.

Merlin, that looked good. Shocked at his thoughts, Severus glanced away, and noticed Lucius' wrist again. He was so very pale – paler than Severus even remembered. Severus picked up Lucius' wrist in one hand, turned it over, and stared at the blue veins winding their way just below the skin. Before he even realized it, he was biting into one, canines sliding so easily like twin razors into the skin.

And then the world came alive.

Taste exploded over his mouth as the first droplets of Lucius' blood hit his tongue, and he groaned at the taste of it. Lucius groaned, too, but he paid that no mind, just worried at the wound with his tongue, drawing out more and more of that delicious taste into his mouth. The world was a brilliant, luminous place, the stone around them smelling beautifully acrid, but even better than that was Lucius' blood, the best smell – the best taste – he'd ever experienced.

Trancelike, he drank, too obsessed with the pure pleasure of sating his thirst to realize that this was not normal behaviour in a Potions Master of thirty-seven.

Someone was tugging his shoulder. Severus shrugged them off. The tug returned a moment later, harder. Severus ignored it. Nothing mattered at all; it could be the Dark Lord, for all he cared in that moment, and he'd still ignore him.

It wasn't until the person wrenched him free of Lucius' wrist, turned his shoulders to face him, and shook him a few times, that Severus realized it was Malachai.

And then another realization struck.

Malachai winced; Severus could imagine how thunderous his expression must be. "Severus I know you want to yell but we've got to go right now!" he said in a rush, and hauled Severus to his feet.

Severus stumbled, and realized his aches and pains had melted away with his – what? Dinner? But he really could do with a nap now. "I am going to kill you. Once I feel more up to it."

"Wait your turn."

Severus turned quickly to see Rabastian Lestrange with a wand trained on them and no idea how he'd come to be there. He hadn't even heard the crack of Apparation. A moment later, Rodolphus blinked into view, and added his wand to Rabastian's. Oh. A Disillusionment charm.

Severus stabbed the air with his wand, wordlessly casting an Expelliarmus that caught Rabastian off-guard. Malachai lunged as Rodolphus simultaneously fired off a curse, and Severus wasn't quick enough to get out of Malachai's way and the hex that knocked him backwards and caused his clothes to start burning.

Searing, unbelievable pain swept over him as the fire caught and spread, and Severus screamed "Aguamenti," managing to hit himself with the water after a few tortured moments of blind flailing. The magical fire didn't extinguish, however, and by the time he thought of the counter-curse, he barely had the breath to cast it.

Severus only had the warning of a shouted, "Crucio," before a new – and much worse – pain assaulted him.

He bucked and writhed and screamed as his entire world turned to agony. The problem with the Cruciatus seemed to be that no matter how many times one had been under the influence of it, it never got easier to bare.

Severus' whole world was reduced to that agonizing pain. Everything else dimmed in comparison to the fire raging in every cell in his body. It seemed like an eternity before the curse ended, and when relief finally came, Severus was left staring at a pair of feet.

"I'm so sorry, Severus," Malachai whispered, kneeling down next to him. A moment later, he was gasping for air and staring into a pretty, worried face. "So sorry. Oh Merlin, Severus."

More shouting was coming from somewhere beyond Severus' sight. There seemed to be a lot more people than there had been a moment ago. Severus recognized a lot of voices, and was startled to realize that some of them were Aurors. How long had he been under the curse?

"Don't worry, Severus. Dumbledore's here. Everything's all right now." Malachai stroked his face, and Severus let his eyes drift closed. Dumbledore was here. It would be alright. "I'll protect you, Sunshine," Malachai said quietly, "Don't worry. I'll make sure you get out alright."

Perhaps it was the tenuous hold Severus had on consciousness, but he trusted those words. Maybe Malachai was a monster, but he was a monster on the right side.

Epilogue

When Severus next regained consciousness, he'd been in a soft bed, Malachai next to him, Dumbledore nowhere to be found. Malachai revealed that they were in a muggle hotel in London, and Severus had only not gone storming out of the room because he physically wasn't able.

Finding out that he was now a Vampire had been a bit of a shock, as well. He'd wanted to write the incident with Lucius' wrist off as a freak 'let us never speak of this again' accident, but apparently he couldn't. He was a Vampire, and thanks to that fact, he'd healed much quicker from his injuries than he otherwise would have.

But Malachai was there. He would be able to acclimate, to survive, to enjoy Unlife. The future was wide open, and it didn't include wars and the Dark Lord and bratty children. For the first time in a long time, Severus thought he might actually have a future.

The End

(gosh it feels great to write that!)

Or is it? Could the author really be that much of a masochist, that a sequel may already be in the works?

…Yeah.