AN: Look! points It's a new chapter! To Lils: facepalm I can't believe I missed that...I fixed it, though! and to the rest of my reviewers: I love you guys, and I'm so glad that you like this fic...frankly, I was terrified when I started writing it, because good Snarry is so hard to write, and I'm not sure that I can approach it half as well as some...but I'm trying, and your reviews most definitely make me want to write faster!

PS: I am SO sorry about this chapter's sucky-ness, and the super OOC Snape and Harry, but I just started writing and I couldn't stop, and when I was finished I had-THIS, and I just couldn't bring myself to change it. Also, the majority of this was written while under the influence of regina spektor, so I can't be held totally accountable...

Introversion

Harry sat, and allowed his mind to wander deep into itself, as he often did at night when all others were asleep. He closed his eyes and imagined that maybe he was asleep, and human once more, and in Gryffindor Tower, happy and naive as he used to be.

It was a pointless exercise. He opened his eyes, and stared at the fire that Snape had started before he went to bed, and waited for morning.

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When Snape woke up, he found Harry exactly where he had left him the night before. As he entered the room, Harry looked up towards him.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me more about the effects of my...condition. Any particular reason why not?"

Snape, still half asleep and unready for the sudden question, rubbed at his forehead and squinted at the young wizard on his couch. "Too preoccupied, I suppose, with the mere fact of your condition."

Harry nodded, seeming satisfied, and returned his gaze to the dancing flames. For a few minutes all was silent as Snape grabbed a piece of toast from the kitchen he had insisted be placed in his chambers, but Harry spoke again.

"I can feel your mind."

Snape stopped mid-bite, and stared.

"I could hear your dreams. You are a very bitter person. Of course, I already knew that, but it came as a surprise that even your dreams are haunted by bitter memories of dead loved ones."

Harry had not looked away from the fire again, but he seemed to be staring at Snape as he spoke. "I guess it comes from the blood. I've never taken so much from one person before, except Ron, and that was when I changed him. I just assumed it was the fact that I changed him that created the link, not just that I took his blood and he took mine..." He stopped rambling, and took a good look at his Professor. "I'm sorry your wife died." He looked away. "It wasn't your fault."

Snape was still frozen, shocked and horrified at the words that were coming out of the young man's mouth, revealing secrets he had so carefully put behind him. Eventually, choking, he found his voice.

"Shut up, Potter."

Harry turned all the way around, staring into the kitchen, his eyes burning holes into Snape's. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

Getting up, he brushed off his robes. "Thank you for the blood and sanctuary, Professor. I owe you a life debt."

Snape shook his head. "Just get out."

Harry smiled sadly, nodded, and, grabbing his cloak from the couch, left quickly.

Snape reached for a drink, deciding that the only way to suitably rid himself of the memories Potter had dragged painfully to the surface was to drown them in alcohol.

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He had gotten married, just out of school. It was not that unusual at the time, and but it had not lasted.

Not even two years.

Even with all the amazing medical and magical advances, even with everything they were capable of...cancer was still a death sentence.

She had been diagnosed about six months after the wedding, and had died within the year.

Potter was right. He was bitter.

He was also drunk.

Very drunk.

He refilled his glass.

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

Harry winced at the feeling of another's mind within his own, then winced again at the feelings and sensations that were making their way down the link, screaming physical and emotional distress. He tried to ignore it and focus on his conversation with Hermione, but it was very distracting.

Hermione, seeing his pained expression, glanced worriedly at him. "Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry responded shortly. "Yeah, I'm fine." Can't say the same for Snape, though... "What were you saying?"

She looked him over, a mothering glint in her eye, before continuing. "I was saying that I think we should search the castle for another."

"Sounds good. When do we start?" He asked, trying very hard to keep his voice from shaking.

She cocked her head inquisitively. "You don't sound like you're fine, Harry." In one swift movement, she knelt down in front of where he was sitting and leaned forward to get a good look at him. "You have been feeding, haven't you?"

"Yes," He snapped, and brushed away her hands when she tried to hug him. "I told you. I'm fine. I just...had a bad night, okay?"

She gave him a look that clearly said she didn't believe a word he was saying, but that she would let it go for the moment.

"Well...okay then," She said. "I thought we could start tomorrow, and just work our way through the castle, feeling around, you know. Seeing if we can sense someone else."

Harry nodded absently, grimacing as he felt Snape downing another drink. If he'd known that taking that much blood would result in a link of that strength, he might have just let himself die.

Hermione was giving him that concerned look again, and he grinned at her to show her that he was, as he had just said, fine. "Really, you shouldn't worry so much, Hermione. You might get wrinkles."

She laughed despite herself, and playfully cuffed him on the shoulder. "You should talk! No one worries more than you!"

Harry sat back in his chair, pleased with himself for successfully distracting her. "We should go find Ron and explain the plan to him."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, Harry...I was thinking that maybe we shouldn't tell Ron just yet."

"What?" Harry stood up. "Are you saying...?"

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "No! Not at all! It's just...he's been...different, lately, and I thought that maybe we should wait a while before telling him anything."

Harry, tired of beating around the bush, did what he would not have normally done with one of his partners. He reached towards her mind, silently asking permission to enter. Hermione, a little shocked by his decision, exercising a power they had decided to never use on each other, still agreed to let him in, if only to keep her from having to voice her terrible suspicions. Ron had always been the most violent of them, with the shortest temper, and the kill had been a hateful, violent crime. It...fit, though she hated even thinking it.

Harry drew back into himself quickly, horrified by the thoughts he had seen. He stared at her, his eyes pleading for a misunderstanding. "You think...Ron? He wouldn't do that. He cares too much about us."

Hermione took a shaky breath, held it for far too long, then let it out again. "I doubt that there's another vampire anywhere in the school, or we would have sensed them, but I think that we should still search. I won't say anything about my suspicions until we actually prove that we are the only vampires here."

Harry, desperately trying to forget the accusations rushing around in his head, all pointing towards Ron. His best friend, lover, childe, and much more. "It's not him. There's another. There has to be. Ron has no reason to kill anyone."

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him. "Of course not. Forget about it, Harry. Let's start searching tomorrow, okay?"

Harry nodded.

"You should come back to the Tower."

The words were softly voiced, and Harry wanted to give in, just because he knew it would make the young woman before him that much happier.

"No."

She withdrew the hand from his shoulder. "I'm sorry that you don't feel safe, Harry. I wish I hadn't said anything."

Harry laughed shortly, and she winced, because it was a bitter sound. "It's not that. I'm not sure how I feel anymore. About Ron, about...you..."

His voice faded away to nothing near the end. He turned away. "I don't think I should come back to the tower at all. I..."

Hermione gazed sadly at his back, remembering her thoughts from a few days before. It seemed that he was finally pulling away from them. "It's okay. I think I understand."

He turned around to stare, his eyes tired and red rimmed, as though he had been crying. She nodded a goodbye towards him, then walked slowly away.

Harry watched her turn the corner, then let out a silent scream and slammed the wall beside him as hard as he could with his hand, breaking both his hand and the wall.

He stook stoicly as the bones in his hand healed painfully, and stared at the hole in the stone beside him.

When he could move his hand once again, he left as silently as he had arrived.