The Leader

Chapter 25

Harry looked over Severus' sleeping form, mesmerised by the changes he had undergone. He now looked close to the same age as Harry; gone were the tired bags under his eyes, as were the tense muscles, crooked nose, and prematurely aged face. The most satisfying thing though, was the Dark Mark's removal; he had absolutely loathed the thought of his mate having the mark of another upon him. Although at the time, he hadn't realized that was why he was feeling so damn possessive. Being possessive was nothing new, of course, but feeling that way to the extent he actually physically wanted to remove something from someone was. He'd wanted to remove it from Severus' arm regardless of the consequences.

Harry had never thought about finding his mate, or being with one. His sole concern for years had been bettering the underworld, he'd been so determined to give them all a better chance at life. Along the way he'd been building up a power base that Voldemort or even Dumbledore could only dream of. It hadn't been easy; he'd had to prove himself to them, show them that he was a good leader, a fair one too, but without being a pushover. There was absolutely no respect to be had for anyone that constantly changed their mind or gave in to their subordinates.

Go figure his mate would be magically powerful. Now when you had that much magic thrumming through your heart like a flipping guitar it made people wary, respectful; build on it and you could have them eating out of the palm of your hand. Seventy-five percent of their respect came from his magic alone, the rest he had earned by leading, caring, and providing for them. Have you ever seen someone acclaimed either good or bad as anything other than 'powerful'? No, and there was a reason for that. Grindelwald had been revered as the most powerful, darkest wizard they'd ever seen until Voldemort had stolen that spot. Dumbledore had been acclaimed as the most powerful light wizard... but that repute had taken a tumble when Harry had defeated Voldemort at the age of one. Of course Dumbledore was still the most revered, but only because he had remained hidden. That would change; a lot of things would change, and soon; he could feel it in his bones.

Ten hours ago Severus had drunk from him, and in exactly two hours he should wake... never to sleep again. He'd be immortal, indestructible, and forever young. It had taken a great deal of restraint on his part to stop himself pouncing on Severus, as he drank from him for the first time. In the end he'd resorted to going for a shower to cool down and take care of his problem. He had spelled Severus to sleep; it was better that way, since the last twelve hours were the worst. The heart started slowing down; slowed until eventually it beat one last time, then stopped completely. He could remember the panic he'd felt; he had known he would be fine, but rationality had just been thrown from the window. Added to how exhausted he'd been after the agony of being rapidly aged... it had been how he imagined it would feel in the old days, being pulled on the rack.

Taking his usual spot next to Severus' bed, he began to read the documents Brecon had written up for him. If he was going to the Ministry, he wanted to know everything about everyone he could potentially be dealing with. He was hoping that the old fool would call an Order meeting before the time limit on his appearance at the Ministry was up. For if that happened, he would simply interrupt the Wizengamot meeting, provide his proof, and stay to see how Amelia Bones did at convincing them of the best way to go. If he had to set up a trap to force Dumbledore to call a meeting in panic, then he would do exactly that. It shouldn't be too difficult to do, since according to Bill half the meetings were useless drabble that Dumbledore spewed, but did nothing about. He liked to talk the talk, but always failed to act. It would work in Harry's favour in the end, so he didn't think about it further.

The biggest unknown factor out of everyone in the Ministry definitely had to be Cornelius Fudge. The current Minister of Magic, he was quite a conundrum― unless it was simply greed. He'd constantly asked for Dumbledore's advice before the return of Lord Voldemort; afterwards he had become withdrawn from the old wizard ― but still held meetings with him. Fudge also consorted with the likes of Lucius Malfoy, a well-known Death Eater; Harry had a feeling that Malfoy could have walked into the Ministry with both arms bared and waving a sign declaring 'I'm with Voldemort,' and they still wouldn't have cared. While greed as a motive had its certain appeal, why would have Fudge risk his job and power by associating with him? It was a stupid thing to do, but considering how much wealth the Malfoys had, it could very well be a lot of money he had been getting for turning his head the other way. Of course with Lucius' Malfoy's death - Fudge probably found himself at a disadvantage.

He would need to find out about getting his hands on a copy of Malfoy's financial records, and learn when every time he'd held a meeting with Cornelius Fudge had been. Perhaps a copy of the finances of Fudge as well; proof, should he need it, to either deal with him openly or deal with him without the eye of the public on him. That way he would know for sure just how much Malfoy had be giving the Minister. How much was it worth to line his blood-ridden, dirty pockets with gold, turning his head while the lives of innocents who were being slaughtered…The urge to snap Fudge's neck was fierce; filthy humans with their greed, stupid ambition, empty bravery, and hidden cowardice. Perhaps he should have someone keep an eye on all Fudge's meetings in case another Death Eater took Malfoy's place.

Turning the page, he narrowed in on Delores Umbridge; her name was underlined several times. He was well aware of her, and the successful and not-so-successful changes she'd made to legislations preventing 'creatures' from getting work, along with various other pieces of legislation that made him grit his teeth. He did not need to see the phrase 'Extreme distaste for all things non-human' written underneath her name. She claimed to be a pureblood, but her mother was a Muggle; she had a brother who was born without magic, taking after his mother's side. Delores, however, ended up with magic. Her father, it seemed, had retired from work and was now living in a cottage near the coast. The area wasn't known for its grandness; in fact, it was pretty run-down in that area. He wasn't even that old, either; the man was barely in his sixties right now, Harry realized as he calculated his age. He wondered what had caused her hatred of vampires and werewolves. Perhaps a bad experience with one? Still…there was no reason for this vendetta she had sparked. She would soon have to get used to life with fairness for all, or she would die; she was certainly someone worth keeping an eye on, and not for a good reason. Of course he really just wanted to snap her neck, but he wasn't the only one; many of his people liked to vividly describe in graphic detail what they wanted to do with her. Each piece of legislation that came out caused them to become more dark and gruesome. If he allowed it, they'd be gone before he could finish his sentence.

Humming to himself, he began to read everything else in the files, with the exception of Amelia Bones' jacket; hers he'd already read in the past. It was how he'd been able to convince her to stay her hand and keep his secrets when she'd stumbled upon them purely by accident, not in the warehouse, but in the midst of dispatching a particularly bad coven of rogue vampires. As he'd always stated in the past, he did not need or want an unwilling human, werewolf, or vampire under his command. She was powerful, smart, and in a position of importance within the Ministry; the perfect person to have an alliance with. Her penchant for fairness had also worked in her favour; his as well, come to that. She would never have been able to spill what she knew, but Harry hadn't been willing to share that little bit of information with her. She hadn't let him down yet, but her aid was coming in handy now, greater than ever.

The rest of the information was pertinent but extremely dull; he would never go into a situation unprepared, so he persevered through it all. He would rather it was learned and stored away before Severus woke up. His thirst would be strong, so it would be best to hunt immediately upon gaining his bearings as a vampire.

Slipping the paperwork into its folder, he banished it to his rooms, where it would be placed with everything else. These files were some of the things Dobby would take with him, should Potter Manor ever be compromised. Nothing about him, his status as a vampire, what he was doing, and all the information he had on various people, would ever be found. Especially not by Dumbledore ―who he recognized probably had the greatest likelihood of actually finding the place and having the power to take his wards down― but he would never be able to get back out; his trip-up jinx also had a magic-suppressing ward, which ironically didn't work on House-Elves, so they were able to come and go freely after the wards were tripped. Other than the few spells he had on Dobby, he had yet to find any other spells that would work.

A groan stole Harry's thoughts. His mind immediately turned to Severus; as he sat up straighter, his piercing green eyes watched him keenly. He had never turned anyone, never observed any turning, never mind one done this way, the same as, yet opposite of, what had happened to him. Harry pressed his hand to Severus' chest, absently noticing his heart was no longer beating ― which was to be expected. "Easy, Severus, easy," Harry murmured soothingly, keeping his hand firmly pressed against his chest to stop him from moving. "Think first; you are safe, it just takes a few minutes to get used to everything. Open your eyes; look around."

Severus felt as though he'd done ten rounds of torture at the Dark Lord's hands. He was confused, and couldn't remember much of anything; he only knew he existed at that moment. In fact he was drowning trying to understand everything, but he couldn't see, couldn't comprehend what was going on. Then he heard his voice, the one that brought him out of the dark abyss. It called to him on a very deep, primal level; he knew instinctively he was safe. Severus knew that thought should have made him wary, or worried; he never relied on anyone... and just how did he know that? What had the voice told him to do? Think; take a few minutes. As he calmed down, memories began to spring forth crystal-clear, even the transformation. Everything in his life flashed before his eyes…his human life, one that had no bearings on his new one, he realized.

Black eyes snapped open, and his jaw almost dropped. His eyes... as a human he had thought they were sharper than most. He'd been so wrong; without any more human weaknesses, if they could be called such ―perhaps he should think of them as useful vampire enhancements instead? Either way, he could see everything clearly; he could see Harry clearly for the first time. He could even see the cracks in the walls at the very corner of the room, something that was completely indiscernible to the human eye. He could hear water running in the distance, perhaps a pond or a stream? Or even a body of water; there were the sounds of animals, the galloping of horses, even the sound of a brush rubbing against something…Harry hadn't been kidding; he could hear for what he would assume was miles. He was quickly getting a headache with all the noise; he couldn't concentrate on just one thing.

"It gets easier; listen to my voice and only my voice, then occlude your mind, Severus," Harry said softly, removing his hand now, seeing that Severus was coming to and wouldn't attack first and think later. His own instincts would be to fight back, and he truthfully didn't want to risk undue damage…or actually killing him after fighting so hard to save him. "Be careful; it's a gift that you will find much easier now; do not slam up your defences so quickly," he then warned. Not that he knew the feeling; it was just something he'd heard Kai tell someone he was talking to through the Floo one night.

"Occluding helps your ability to focus, especially when you are a Fledgling. Others have learned this through experience," Harry told him, standing back and allowing Severus room to adjust without feeling like he was being smothered. Excitement thrummed through him; it had been years since he'd hunted, and he never thought to do it with a fledgling, never mind his own mate.

Severus scowled at the term fledgling; it was such a childish term of endearment for someone who was new at something. He completely ignored the fact, by rights made by the first vampire, that anyone newly turned was in fact a fledgling. He also ignored the fact that this was something new to him, making the term doubly correct. Nobody had cared about him enough to give him any terms of endearment, he remembered, other than Lily; she'd used to call him 'Sev', but that wasn't exactly considered much of one. No, the only ones he'd had spat at him had been used to hurt him: 'Snivellus', 'freak'... Merlin, he hadn't thought of this for over twenty years. What the hell was going on? Even with his mind shields up, he was thinking about things he did not want to. His brow puckered in thought, irritated at his own mind.

"Yes, Severus, fledgling; you'll always be my fledgling, perhaps the only one; I have never turned another person and have no intention of doing so again," Harry said, after chuckling at the look and sounds Snape made at his chosen words. "Talk to me; if anyone understands what you are going through, it's me." He could see something was bothering the wizard... which was disconcerting in itself; Severus wasn't one for displaying his emotions.

Severus moved to stand up, only to realize he had absolutely nothing on. Grasping a blanket he hid himself from view, hastily wrapping it around himself. Then he glared at Harry; the last he remembered, he'd most definitely had his clothes on.

"You are seventeen, Severus, in body if not in mind; the clothes you wore were no good. Not unless you wish to walk around looking like a ragamuffin. Shrinking spells only go so far," Harry explained calmly, enjoying the unflappable man being so…well, flustered, really. Shrinking spells affected the clothes, made them look like seconds; the colours even become slightly distorted and lacklustre. Especially blacks; they tended to turn greyish with the spells. It was noticeable; that was the reason the Weasleys hadn't altered the clothing for their children in the past.

Severus reluctantly conceded the point with a nod of his head. Closing his eyes, he put his mental barriers up as fully as they would go. Closing out all the incessant noises—of course, that just drew attention to his stomach cramping painfully. He had never been a stupid wizard; foolish, maybe; making wrong choices, definitely; but never stupid. He was hungry…instead of a grumbling stomach, his would now cramp…ignore it long enough and it would turn into a blood rage; he'd find himself consuming any blood that crossed his path…whether it be human or animal.

"Come; let me show you how we hunt," Harry said proudly, his green eyes gleaming. Severus was going to be just fine. Not only had he lasted longer before feeling the thirst, he was controlling it. "Your wand is in the drawer; help yourself to the clothes in your cupboard. If you don't like them, then you can order more. I'll wait outside."

Severus waited until the door closed, sounding abnormally loud compared to the almost silent click he was used to. Nothing would be able to sneak up on him anymore, and that thought filled him with glee. While it was true that it rarely happened, he knew he wouldn't have to watch his back quite as relentlessly. Speculatively his eyes were drawn to the cupboard, which had a mirror down the entire length in the middle between both wooden ―oak, they were― doors.

What was he going to find in there? Harry had already blown a fortune on building him a lab, and obtaining the best ingredients he'd ever seen. He wasn't used to it, and was admittedly largely uncomfortable with such extravagance being thrown his way. It was a luxury his parents had never been able to afford when he'd been a child; as an adult he had been able to afford himself some of the things he liked. Unfortunately, you didn't get much for teaching at Hogwarts. With board and meals being provided, you lived on a basic salary. He'd never been one to squander money, so he he'd easily been able to save up for the items he'd wanted when he'd first started out. He'd gotten wise quickly and started selling his potions, as well as inventing them. He'd gathered quite a measurable sum from his side business.

Severus grunted in surprise; he'd merely meant to walk to the cupboard, but instead he'd run at it, barely able to prevent himself from slamming into the glass. He was momentarily disorientated, at least mentally, by his new abilities, even if his body was comfortable with them. If this had been meant to be a walk, just how quickly could he run? The prospect of finding out excited him. Moving slowly he opened the cupboard door, agog at what he could see. Leather pants? Was Harry serious? He was NOT going to wear them, not now, not ever. They were sold exclusively at Gladrags Wizarding Wear, two hundred Galleons a pair.

He did find a pair of black dress trousers, a black vest, and a black jumper; Harry knew his preferences at least, since most of the items were black. Then again, most of the vampires he'd seen…did have a tendency to wear black…It wasn't solely a vampire thing, but apparently they did prefer to wear leather, something he had noticed but never really dwelled on until now.

Once he was dressed, he moved into the middle, looking in the mirror with trepidation. Blinking rapidly he stared, completely stunned. His hand absently rose towards his nose; it had always been crooked, but the same couldn't be said any longer. He hadn't realized the transformation would... for the lack of better words…heal any imperfections. Baring his teeth, he studied his mouth. His teeth had been yellow, due to the fact he hadn't been able to look after them properly as a young boy. His father had drunk all their money; toothpaste had been a necessity they couldn't afford. Hell, his mother'd had a hard enough time putting food on the table, never mind buying things like that. Now his teeth were completely white; his canines were extended and pointy. His hands were missing the calluses built up due to years of being burnt with cauldrons and brewing. Last but by no means least, was his hair: it was longer than it had been before this began, but only just; exactly as it had been when he was seventeen, if he remembered correctly. Just past his shoulders. He would never get used to this; it was wild, seeing himself looking this age once again, and blessedly free of the Dark Mark. He smirked vindictively―Voldemort and Dumbledore were both in for a surprise; if he died, he would go out fighting. As for right now, he'd won, and the Slytherin in him was feeling very smug about it. Of course, he hadn't done it alone.

His thoughts quickly changed course as his stomach cramped almost painfully. He hungered for that sweet nectar that had been drip-fed to him over the past fortnight. Each drop had been sweeter than the last, and the thought of having the pure source made him salivate. He winced internally; he'd thought he'd been prepared for anything, but these…those thoughts were not comforting at all.

Now he was becoming worried; since he didn't know his own body anymore, how would he know if he was going into blood rage? Would he always have his thoughts centered on blood and drinking? Why hadn't he asked those questions beforehand? They weren't even explained in the book, but most things were kept secret in the Covens; they didn't let in outsiders to observe their way of life. That was why it was very important to guide the fledglings for a year while they became accustomed to vampiric life.

"Will I always feel like this?" Severus asked, his tone smoother and darker than he'd ever heard it.

"That depends," Harry firmly stated, narrowing his eyes; he would not let anyone speak to him like that... even if a small part of him liked the fact someone wasn't too worried about his reaction to actually speak to him that way. He couldn't let anyone hear Severus talking to him like that, not because he feared they would start, but because he knew how defensive they got about him.

"On?" Severus asked, adjusting his tone ― only slightly; he didn't want to press Harry right now. He just wanted to feed, and he'd never trust himself to go alone, so whether he liked it or not, he needed him.

"On how you feel," Harry answered, but he had a knowing look in his eyes, as if he suspected already what it was that Severus felt.

"Constantly thinking about blood…" Severus grimaced. Yes, it was probably a stupid question; he was a vampire now, but he had to ask. He was hoping it wouldn't be this…highly strung; he didn't know for sure if he could control it.

"How many times a day did you think about food? How often would your stomach grumble in complaint? Instead of food and water for sustenance, you will desire blood. For the first year it's all about gaining control of your instincts and clamping down on the constant need for blood. You will probably drink more blood this year than you will in the next five," Harry told him confidently. "Are you ready to go?"

Severus nodded grimly, an odd gleam in his eye.

"Do not worry, I'll be there to guide you every step of the way. You won't hurt anyone; I won't let it happen," Harry told him soothingly. He watched as surprise flickered over Severus' face, the man liked to think himself impassive, but Harry had learned all the signs the human body gave away... even the immortal tells, too.

Severus really hated the fact that someone could read him so easily; it made him feel like he was an open book, when he knew he was not. Perhaps it wasn't so bad that it was Harry? So far he had trusted him, and that trust had never been misplaced. Considering all those that were unbendingly loyal to him…perhaps it never would be. Nodding his head and giving his consent, a wash of magic shuddered down his spine before Harry spoke again.

"Follow me."

Then Harry was gone, with speed Severus wouldn't have been able to keep up with just a fortnight ago. As it stood, Severus could smell Harry, hear him; excitement thrummed through him as he joined him. He wasn't used to being happy, excited about something like this, like he wanted to make a noise. The urge to jump up and down was astonishingly present like he'd never felt before. The landscape was but a blur as they ran, blues and greens the most common colours.

They must have run for ages; were they that far from civilisation that they were still running even now? He wasn't tiring ―far from it― but he was getting hungry. "How far away from the nearest population are we?" Severus enquired, skidding to a halt when Harry did so.

"Miles," Harry honestly said, before adding "But to do this requires a place that is not busy, but not completely secluded either. We choose our spots carefully; we also try not to use the same person more than once. Everyone in my coven has their own feeding grounds, they rarely stray from them."

"I see," replied Severus, curtly nodding his understanding.

"Let's go," Harry said, and with that he started running, veering off to the left suddenly before slowing down and coming out of an alley.

A growl unexpectedly left Severus' mouth as instincts took hold.

"Easy," Harry warned, growling himself, warning Severus to behave. And whether he liked it or not, his vampire responded by quieting down like a scolded pup. It wouldn't last long, but just long enough for him to get his bearings again.

Severus gritted his teeth furiously; he had thought he was through subjugating himself to others. Was this to be his life from now on? Bowing down to him? His good mood vanished quickly, as he glared at the floor. He didn't want to risk whatever had happened before, happening again. The feelings had humiliated him to the core.

"Look at me," Harry demanded, "Severus, look at me." Time seemed to move slowly as the vampire did it reluctantly, his face showing everything he was currently feeling.

"Your instincts are new; they listen to ancient vampires. They will wear off; trust me. You are lucky you have someone here to help you through it all," Harry said grimly; he hadn't been so lucky. "It is why Callahan wasn't successful in leading the four vampires he managed to change. He was weak. He didn't know how to lead, and he was no leader."

"And you are?" Severus asked doubtfully.

"In a manner of speaking, yes; I'd say I was more of an Alpha than ancient, but they are considered in the hierarchy to be the exact same thing. Only ancients are considered the ones to go to when you require information; they have some of the oldest texts in existence in their private libraries," Harry revealed. "Alphas are the ones you go to when you are in trouble and need help." He'd seen them only once; they stayed out of it... well, other than Carl, who had joined him.

"The Ancients ― I've never heard a reference to them before," Severus admitted, confused.

"You won't; they don't live here in Britain. They stay in their countries of origin, meeting up every decade or so," Harry replied. "Nobody in our community ever talks about them; most covens don't know of their existence. I was lucky enough that my Sire was important. Unfortunately, he underestimated his enemies, and he paid for that."

Severus remained silent, feeling a little guilty, but he refused to bow to it.

"Let's go," Harry repeated, for what felt like the millionth time. "Can you smell it?"

"Yes," Severus said, not having to wonder what he meant.

"One of the big rules: never let them see you; if they do, you must not let them get away ― Obliviating them is the only way it should be done," Harry lectured as both of them ran closer, faster than the human eye could perceive. "Two: stun them; they will assume they took a dizzy turn when they come around." A stunning charm was shot with precision, taking both Muggles down.

"Three: never let the thrall of feeding stop you from making sure the area is clear," Harry added sharply as he looked around; there was nobody nearby. Keeping an eye on Severus, he approached the unconscious Muggles. "Four: never drink from the neck, especially if you want them to survive. That and the femoral artery in the thigh."

"Where?" Severus asked, unable to look away; he could literally see the blood pounding through their veins.

"Where they won't notice it right away; it takes an hour for the bite to heal, and sometimes they come out of the stun quicker than that," Harry told him. "I usually go for the back or the ankle." They were more likely to believe they'd gotten bitten by an animal. Going for the neck, due to all the stupid Muggle movies, just screamed vampire, or rather, as the Muggle police would say, a vampire wannabe, since they didn't believe in the supernatural. The Ministry kept a watch on Muggle crimes, especially if they were unexplained or unnatural.

"Go on," Harry said, watching him closely; he had to make sure he didn't overfeed. "Find a place you want. Now, you can either bite down with both fangs, or just one." He only made one puncture wound, but everyone had their preferences. The inner arm was definitely not the most unobservable of places, but he said nothing, swallowing thickly at the moan of pure pleasure that emanated from the new vampire.

"You'll soon begin to feel a tug when it's more difficult for the blood to get to you; you must stop then, otherwise they will not survive," Harry said, ready to subdue Severus when it happened. It was a normal occurrence during the first few feeds. It had happened to him once; when he'd refused to hunt again, Kai had given him packet blood so he would know it couldn't happen again. It was true, he hadn't after that; pretty soon, once he'd perfected his technique, he'd begun living full-time on the packet blood ― Kai had been too worried about people seeing him. "Stop, Severus; you'll kill her," Harry said, ready to do what was necessary.

Then just like that, as if his words had broken through (despite the fact Harry knew nothing could break the thrall other than physical force), Severus stopped.

"Lick the wound closed. Our saliva has healing properties. It doesn't work as fast on Muggles, though; that's why it can take as long as an hour," Harry explained, suppressing the smirk he felt brewing when Severus shifted, a look of embarrassment on his face. "It happens uncontrollably to everyone for the first few feeds…it's completely natural. We are vampires, after all, and we are known for our desires."

Harry twisted down and drank from the male companion, delighting in the warm fluid. He hadn't had any in years, only reheated blood, which just wasn't same. He didn't take as much as Severus had, only enough to sate his thirst and hunger. Licking the single hole he'd made, his head snapped up, to find himself staring at Severus, who was looking at him with a look that was all too familiar to him.

Edited by Jake and Jordre thank you guys!