Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

Warning: Character death

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Harry woke, choking on the blood in his mouth.

"Drink, you silly child!"

Harry swallowed obediently. He tried to grab the wrist in front of him, but it was drawn out of his reach. He followed it without thought as it led him across the room to a neck. He latched on to the existing cut, pulling the attached body around to give him better access.

"Harry! Stop now."

Harry ignored the meaningless interruption. The Other came towards him but he scuttled over to another corner, drinking as fast as he could. Soon, he could pull no more out, no matter how hard he sucked. He let the vessel fall to the floor with a disgruntled whimper. The Other approached again, and this time Harry let him. Harry was swiftly settled back into bed and he let himself be lulled back to sleep.

When he woke again, the room was empty. For a brief shinning moment he hoped it had all been a dream, but the now sour taste in his mouth denied that. He rushed into the bathroom, and rinsed his mouth over and over again until he heard Snape calling to him from the bedroom.

"Magister. Please tell me I didn't kill him. Her?"

"Him. He was no great loss. I didn't truly expect you not to under the circumstances."

"But, but, I killed him."

"Yes."

"I thought I'd be able to control it. I thought..."

"We can, most of the time. And even when we don't, we all believe that it wouldn't happen again. "

"I... I... maybe you should just kill me now, before that happens. I mean, I'm not likely to survive training anyway, right? So..."

"Oh for heavens sake. Since you were so unfairly cheated out of a glorious death in battle, you have to make up for it now in noble sacrifice? People die, Harry. You are a vampire and they are food. If you can't accept that then maybe it is better that you stop wasting my time in training you. The mental form required is within your capabilities, although if you wish to make a more painful gesture, I swear to ward your coffin after you bleed yourself out. Just do it outside so that you don't stain the carpets."

Snape stalked out.

Harry stared after him. He agitation bled out, leaving him strangely detached. At last, he got back into bed, not knowing what else to do. His mind kept returning to the two deaths he had just caused, and Snape's not entirely sarcastic answer. He knew he should want to die, but he didn't. He wanted to live. And as selfish as that made him, he was going to continue training with Snape.

Harry stood up as Snape entered the guest room, shrugging the transfigured robes into a more comfortable position.

"Decided to snuff yourself, then?"

"No, Magister."

"Good."

Snape tossed him a newspaper, and Harry stared blankly down at it.

"Your funeral will be held later today, and I have been instructed to attend. After it ends, I will clear the remainder of my belongings from Hogwarts, so I will probably be gone all day."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"No, Mister Harry Potter, you may not come. You will have to content yourself with the Prophet's descriptions of your mourning fans."

With that, Snape was gone again. Harry bit his lip. He hated the grief he was putting everyone through, Hermione, Neville, Mrs Weasely, Remus Lupin ... He just wanted to see them and make sure they were all alright. He wondered idly if the Dursleys had been informed of the funeral. He somehow doubted they would be attending.

He skimmed through the imaginative descriptions of Voldemort's defeat and puzzled over the funeral arrangements. This wasn't his funeral at all. It was a sort of surrogate funeral for everyone who had been lost in the war. Even after his 'death' they'd found a way to use him. It made it both better and worse. Harry drifted over to the window and stared at the immaculate lawns. Voldemort was dead, and as far as the wizarding world knew, so was he. The great hero, the mourned saviour of the world ... and Severus Snape's very much alive bloodling.

"Now my training truly begins."

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