AN: The POV in this chapter is kind of hard to understand, and I want you to know that I have just as much trouble understanding it as you do. XD Yes, Harry is extremely OOC here, especially at the end, and I didn't get in that kiss that I really wanted to write, but I tried, and I do believe that this is my longes chapter yet. So...be happy!

Disclaim Her: Review and I'll give you your own personal Draco doll to play with!

The Breakdown

The next two days were torture. The very weather seemed to be reflecting Harry's mood, growing darker and stormier by the hour. Harry had been increasingly paranoid, as well, leading to him deciding that it might not be the best idea to keep sleeping in the same room as Ron and Hermione. He knew it bothered them, but they didn't say anything when he stopped returning to their room. He was so sick of the constant suspicion.

Potions class was a nightmare. Harry had been working on his potion in silence, ignoring worried glances from Ron and Hermione, when something explosive landed right in the middle of his cauldron. He stared at it dumbly for a moment before it went off, throwing thick, acidic liquid all over the room, and its occupants.

"Potter!"

Harry looked up with a growing feeling of dread as Snape stalked towards him from across the room, his eyes screaming blatant hatred.

"It wasn't my fault, Sir," He said as calmly as he could.

Snape glared daggers at him. "Detention, Potter, and fifty points from Gryffindor for damages to the classroom."

Harry nodded, feeling somewhat relieved that Snape had abstained from his usual barrage of yelling and insults.

The rest of class was spent cleaning the room and sending students to the infirmary for burns. Harry focuses on helping, trying to forget that the person who had thrown the firecracker had been from the Gryffindor side of the room.

It didn't help that he was starving, having not fed in almost two weeks.

-----------------------

"I didn't kill her." Harry said from his seat in the front of the room. He felt that that had been the real reason for this detention, and the exploding cauldron had just been an excuse for Snape to do what he had been itching to do all class.

Snape looked at him skeptically. "You are one of three vampires in the school, boy, and I sincerely doubt that either of your lackeys would stoop so low."

Harry stared at him defiantly. "I don't need to defend myself from you. You wouldn't believe me even the real killer were staring you in the face."

Snape stood, moving with a liquid grace that almost matched Harry's. It was no wonder that so many of the younger students were under the impression that their potions master was less than living. "But the killer is staring me in the face, Potter."

Harry stood up and stalked up to Snape, glaring. "I didn't touch her."

Snape leaned forward, and Harry leaned back so that he could still see the man clearly. Despite the situation, he realized with a growing horror that he was getting turned on by the Potions Master's close proximity.

"I sincerely doubt that, Potter, considering the nature of her wounds..."

Harry stepped back, giving himself space to clear his head so that he could face the accusations being thrown at him without any semblance of subtlety. "I swear, Snape, I never went near her. I had nothing against her. Why would I kill her?"

Snape just sneered. Harry groaned in frustration.

"You know what your deal is?" He asked, deciding to get to the root of the problem, and wishing that it didn't matter so much that Snape thought he was innocent. "Even last year, when we worked together, you never saw me as anything but some twisted reincarnation of my father come back to hurt you. Well guess what? I'm not him. And hurting me is not going to make my dead father feel bad about what he did. I'm Harry, not James-Potter's-son. And I'm sick of everything you do being tainted by your hate for a dead man." He threw up his hands, and continued ranting. "You-are-so-infuriating! The way you blame everything on me, even if you have no proof at all! And it makes me want to-to-hit you! Or...or-"

He stopped. And sat down. He took a deep breath, holding longer than humanly possible, then let it out. "Professor Snape," He said, all composure, not even a hint of the fury from five minutes before remaining in his voice. He spoke in a cool, collected, and completely emotionless tone. "I apologize for my outburst. It was uncalled for. I should go."

He stood up, barely controlling the shaking of his hands, and headed for the door.

Snape stood there, shocked for a moment, then reached out and grabbed Harry's arm. "Did I say your detention was over, Potter?"

Harry turned around quickly and tried very hard not to hiss or in some other way threaten his Potions Professor. "Please, sir. I am very tired, and I have been unable to feed for at least a week and a half. I need to go."

Snape was contemplating the boy's words. He said a week and a half. Parkinson had been killed in the past three days. He doubted even Potter was such a good actor that he could fake blood starvation. The red rings around his irises gave him away. Snape sighed, mentally giving up. He had hoped that maybe he had finally caught Potter in something truly horrible, that he had not spent the last six years being inhumanly cruel to an essentially innocent boy.

"Potter...I believe you."

Harry stared. Then, he nodded slowly, and asked, "May I go now, sir? I really need to feed."

Snape looked him over once, for the first time noticing the more extreme signs of Harry's self-enforced starvation. He was surprised the Gryffindor had been able to make it through the last two days without really attacking someone.

"And how do you plan on getting any blood tonight? Do you have some willing donors up in Gryffindor Tower, perhaps?"

Harry flinched at the mention of the Tower, where his fellow Gryffindors were surely discussing a way to get him expelled. "I was going to go to the Underground. They serve blood there."

Snape shook his head. "You are barely able to stand, boy." He shoved the restless vampire back down into the desk. "I doubt you could even make it to the Dungeons exit. When was the last time you slept?"

Harry snorted. "Last June."

When Snape's mouth fell open in shock, he elaborated. "I don't sleep, professor. I can't. Neither can Ron or Hermione. I thought you would have known that, considering everything else you know about vampires."

Snape cleared his throat, trying not to be offended by the snappish tone. "Be that as it may, there is still the problem of you being in my room, starving, about to collapse. And, contrary to belief, I do not keep vials of students' blood in my desk."

Harry couldn't help it: he laughed. "Well, that leaves three options. One: you let me die. Two: you go up to the hospital wing and see if you can get Pomfrey to lend you some blood...good luck explaining that. And then there's three: I feed off of you."

Snape stood there motionless for a moment, then sat down at his desk, wishing that he had not assigned Potter this detention, and wishing even more that he had never discovered that Potter was a vampire to start with. The first option was not even an option, and he had little to no hope of ever getting the nurse to let him have some of the blood she had stored up. That only left the third option. Unless- "Are you sure I couldn't just firecall your friends and get them to get you something?"

Harry laughed bitterly. "I can't trust them not to do something to it."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I may not have killed Parkinson, but someone did. And that someone was a vampire, which means that either there's another vampire in the school, or one of them did it. So I don't feel comfortable trusting them with my life right now."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Ah, how strong the bonds of friendship are. So, how are we going to do this?"

Harry struggled to stand up again, and said, "Well, first, I'll need your arm..." He reached out, and Snape stretched out his long, pale arm. Harry ran his index finger over the vein, finding the most vulnerable spot.

"I don't do this very often, so I'm sorry if it stings a bit."

Snape snorted. "Just get it over with."

Harry nodded shortly, then bit in, his fangs sinking deeply into the Professor's arm. He groaned as the blood filled his mouth, bringing with it vague emotions and flashes of memory. Harry carefully avoided the memories, knowing that he would probably regret anything he saw. He was embarrassed by his reaction to this intimate contact, though. Snape had to have noticed the erection digging into his leg. To keep the both of them from falling over, he moved down into a kneeling position, pulling the man down with him. After a few moments of them remaining in that position, Harry was alerted by a slight fluttering of Snape's heart, a sign that he needed to let go. He reluctantly pulled away, allowing Snape's arm to rest in his hands just a second longer than he should have. He stood, strong once more, and extended his hand to help the Professor up.

Snape took the hand, pulling himself to his feet, wondering how he had ended up on the floor to start with. "Potter-" he began.

"No," Harry interrupted, from where he was collapsing into a desk. "No talking. I don't feel like dealing with anything right now." He drew his legs up into the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. "You know I've been staying in a broom closet at night? I'm too worried that one of the Gryffindors will stake me while I'm doing my homework, or that Ron or Hermione is the killer, and it's only a matter of time until they get me." He took a breath, then let it out in what sounded uncomfortably like a sob to Snape. "Not that the cupboard is that bad. I slept in one for ten years, and this one has locks...I just-I hate the paranoia, the feeling that I'm not safe." He laughed, and it sounded painful, like it was being torn out of his throat. "I thought all that would be over once Voldemort was gone."

He closed his eyes, trying to get himself under control again. Do not break down. Not now. Not here.

Snape was at a complete loss. Still a little weak from letting Potter feed, and feeling strangely sympathetic with the boy, he tried to think of something to say that would not make him sound like a complete ass.

"Potter...you can stay here."

Where did that come from?

Harry's eyes snapped open, and locked onto the Professor's. "What did you say?" He asked quietly.

"I...I said you could stay here."

Harry stared at him, as if evaluating his intentions. Then he nodded. "Alright then," He whispered, looking at the floor. "I'll stay here."