Later that week a disgruntled and hungry figure reluctantly walked down the winding pathway to Hagrid's house under the headmaster's insistence. Reaching the door he knocked smartly and waited. Moments later the door opened and light shone out briefly before being blocked by a large figure in the doorway.

"Professor! Ah've been waitin' fer yeh, Dumbledore said yeh were 'aven' some troubles with yer potion and such. Come in." Hagrid lumbered aside to let Snape in and a puppy nearly scampered out before Hagrid caught him. "Fang! Bad boy! Yeh know yer not big enough ter go outside at night wi'out me yet! Ye'd get eaten! Sorry bout that Professor, have a seat, Ah'll make some tea, or would yeh like something else?"

Snape sat in one of the rough wooden chairs, ignoring the dog sniffing his legs. "Unless you have a hidden supply of fresh blood, no, I think I'll pass." Said Snape in a biting voice which caused Hagrid to blush.

"Sorry, Ah should'a realized. Well, the bes' way ter fix this is ter start with the facts, which Ah unfortunately don't 'ave, as Dumbledore contacted me when Ah was surrounded by kids askin about my pumpkins and that didn' seem like a good time ter discuss-" Hagrid was cut off by the sound of a scraping chair, a snarl, and a whimper.

Snape was standing up with fangs bared and eyes glowing, snarling angrily at the cowering puppy. "Snape, ee's only a puppy don't be so harsh!" Hagrid exclaimed as he picked up the cowering pup.

Snape responded by pulling up a leg of his trousers, revealing a puncture wound that was bleeding profusely with red streaks languidly staining pale yellow skin. Hagrid's mouth opened in a silent "oh".

"I believe I have just become enlightened as to why the dog's name is Fang, now please tie him up before he does something else to incite my temper and he ends up as my dinner." Hagrid nodded and tied up the pup while giving it a scolding as it wagged its tail. "I cannot afford this loss of blood Hagrid, it will mean I will be hungrier and my potion store will run dry more quickly! I do not have…pray tell, why do you feel the need to stare at me as if I was a display at a zoo?" Snape asked as Hagrid regarded him, studied his eyes.

"Cause Ah have the information Ah didn' get from Dumbledore. Yeh got older by about 900 some years, didn' yeh?"

Snape had to admit that Hagrid knew his monsters, though his idea of what a monster actually was, was in itself a bit skewed. He would surely get Kettleburn's position once he retired.

"Yes. And my potion has ceased working. There is no way to increase its potency either, not without using more blood, which rather defeats its purpose."

"Well, yeh'll need energy just as much, if not more than nutrients, though they'll still be important. Hmm. If yeh know wandless magic yeh could manipulate the energy around yeh more than yeh do unconsciously, it's all the same energy… Ah think. Ye'd do the same except ye'd eat the energy, and the energy would be from other people… Although yeh will learn ter do it… uh auto…uh… regular… what's the word?"

"Automatically? Innately?" Supplied Snape, eager to finish the conversation, but begrudgingly interested in what the man had to say.

"Yeah. That', yeh'll do that eventually, ye've probably already started. It won't be much though, just enough to survive, so if yeh want to not be hungry, yeh'll have to learn to do it on purpose. Or maybe not. There's enough magic energy layin around the school ter feed an army." Hagrid chuckled.

Snape once again had to admit that the man knew his trade, he was smarter than he seemed, if extremely poorly organized and possessed of even poorer judgement.

"I will come naturally fer yeh since that's how middle aged vampires actually feed on energy when they aren't directly drinkin blood… Yeh… the problem is yeh skipped over learnin that. As fer the blood part Ah can't help yeh. Yer gonna need blood, that nutritional potion ain't gonna cut it anymore, though you could sell the recipe for about 10,000,000 galleons to a lair of vampires who want to fit in normal society…"

Snape had already thought of this, but the potion was personalized. To make a potion that would work generically for all vampires would lower the results of the potion enough to render it useless. He thanked Hagrid for his help and agreed that, yes, with Dumbledore's permission; Hagrid might one day see his new form, perhaps.

Back in his private lab Snape was reading a book in the dark when the hunger pains hit again. Reaching for a glass filled with the 'potion' he had dubbed Ivanessence, he stopped and sniffed the air.

He could smell blood. It was fairly fresh and very close and not in his cup. He stood and prepared to investigate, partially from concern and partially from hunger. The scent hung in the air like a tempting melody as it led him to the bottle he had put on the shelf earlier, forgotten amidst the chaos of classes and attempts to ignore his hunger. He scowled at it, annoyed by the temptation. He could not drink it, not with the contents filled with potion, but… He grabbed the vial and whirled around.

If he were to add a drop of this to a drop of blood… would it make enough to sate his thirst for a while, more than just stave off pain? He grabbed the blood he was drinking earlier and stalked over to a cauldron. He poured a drop into the black iron receptacle before sipping the last bit. He set the cup down and added a drop of the potion infused blood to the drop in the bowl. He waited and stared at it as if it were a student turning in a paper late, or rather, trying to.

The drop bubbled, roiled, boiled, popped, sizzled, before falling flat. Snape breathed deeply and turned away, decidedly disappointed. He took two steps before the inviting melody in the air blossomed into a song: the potion wasn't finished yet. That metaphorical melody was torn away as a sound like a man humming to what he knew would be his last tune filled the air as the potion started to expand. Snape turned, eyes wide, and watched as the bowl filled with the red liquid until it was just below the rim.

The man stared for a moment, waiting for something to go wrong; for the potion to vanish, turn to sludge, something. It didn't. He approached again and slowly dipped a finger in the liquid and brought it to his lips. He sniffed it, and almost shuddered. So long, it had been so long since he had had two actual meals so close together. He put his finger in his mouth and actually sighed, a rare bit of emotion in the privacy of his own chambers. He had succeeded, he was safe.

He took a moment to enjoy the fact before setting down and corking the vial, setting it safely to the side. He then set about removing his cloak and loosening his cravat before going to find the largest goblet he owned. He came back and magicked some of the ruby liquid into the gold plated goblet until it was filled to the brim.

Sipping the blood as if it were the most exquisite of wines he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Safety. Warmth. The hunger that had seemed more intense ever since that potion exploded subsided, content to wallow like a filthy desperate thought in the back of his being. He sipped, and knew that at the moment his most immediate problem was solved.

Soon the goblet was empty. He refilled it again and repeated the process, drinking less quickly this time. There was little flavor here in this potion made blood, perhaps because it was based off of Ivan who was a child. Perhaps because it was thinned by magic. Still, it was food, and it had a more appetizing flavor than his other potion which after a few years just tasted like copper.

He pondered this as he drank, if he could get a sample from elsewhere to use. He filled the goblet 6 more times, each time his pallor became healthier, if still sallow, and his eyes became less bloodshot and sunken. By the 9th repetition it was obvious why he loosened his clothes; he had gained about 5 pounds and was now at a healthy weight. Going back for more, the Potions Master frowned as he realized the bowl was empty.

He muttered a spell, and the thin layers of blood on the sides of the bowl floated up into the air to form an imperfect sphere. Directing the red undulating orb with his wand, Snape led it into the goblet for one last sip. Once the goblet was empty Snape finally sat back into his nearby green and blue armchair with a sigh, one hand over his stomach. It had been too long since he had felt at full health… or just full in general. He knew it wouldn't last, but for now… Sighing once again, he slipped into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

The next morning many people were once again surprised to find Snape at breakfast, and even more surprising, looking healthy, awake, and…happy?

Snape preferred to think of it as content. He had solved his food problem, the year was closer to an end, there were students to toy with, the Dark Lord was temporarily out of commission, he had had 2 good meals recently, and still had leftovers. Severus sipped at his pumpkin juice while going over that day's lessons in his head. He moved the eggs around on his plate in an attempt to get more air to them so they would cool down. As he was about to lift some eggs on his fork Dumbledore stood up and motioned for silence. It fell quickly under the powerful man's eyes that for once did not twinkle with happiness at his students. The quiet lay heavy for a moment before he spoke.

"I am sad to be the bearer of bad news, but being the headmaster that job is often delegated to me. As I am sure many of you have noticed Ivan V. Johnson has been missing for a few days. Though it may seem we are doing little in an attempt to find him, believe me we are doing our best… or were." The silence that had fallen when Dumbledore began talking deepened, no forks moved in an attempt to shovel food into mouths, no glasses clinked, no spoons stirred. "Last night the remains of clothes and a wand that we identified as Ivan's were found in the Forbidden Forest. He had apparently snuck out after curfew and gone exploring."

Snape ignored the urge to smirk at that. The Forbidden Forest was always a convenient excuse for the disappearance of students. He had given the robes and wand to Dumbledore late the day before, the old man acted as fast as if he were still 50.

Dumbledore continued. "He was attacked by one of the numerous unfriendly denizens that make their home within. I must say by this, that Ivan… is dead. Those who seek counseling should be informed that your Heads of Houses will be available all day for such a purpose, and you have to but ask to be excused from class to see them. Prefects will also be available for this reason. A list of the Heads of Houses' and Prefects' free periods is by the entrance. Let us spend the rest of the meal quietly in remembrance of Ivan. Thank you." At this Dumbledore sat down and quiet conversations filled the Great Hall.

Severus scowled at the thought of students interrupting him during his free periods. Luckily he was head of house for Slytherin, and he doubted anyone would need comforting, let alone come to him if they did. Taking a bite of eggs he looked over at his House's table, and saw that none of the students seemed sad, let alone in the need of counseling. Taking another bite of eggs Snape had to fight off a bout of nausea as the food attempted to reintroduce itself to the environment. He put his utensils and napkin down with enough purpose and force he garnered glances from three fellow professors. Then he stood up and, as if he were needed elsewhere, Snape left the Great Hall.

He navigated the corridors quickly, heading toward the dungeons, trying to get there before the day started and the students were sent to their classes. The only thing stopping Snape from being sick was his time as a Death Eater; showing weakness was a sure way to bring an end to an unpleasant up in the presence of the Dark Lord would earn one a Cruciatus, at the least.

Finally reaching his classroom, Snape headed through the door in the back toward his private lab and study, where he quickly emptied the contents of his stomach into the nearest receptacle, a cauldron. Standing up as if nothing had happened Snape cast a freshening charm on himself, and a vanishing and scourgify on the cauldron. Pondering the reason for his upset stomach Snape headed about preparing for his first class of the day; writing directions on the chalkboard, getting out the necessary ingredients, floating each child's cauldron into its proper place, and getting out the papers he needed to grade.

The reasons for an upset stomach were few for a person staying at Hogwarts, as the food made by the House Elves was never anything less than perfect. The problem should be even less for a vampire, not really being at risk of food poisoning being dead and his digestion process made possible only through magic. Perhaps he needed to check the medallion that let him 'eat'. It's not like he got sustenance from anything other than blood and very raw meat. Everything else was just for show, or the barest bit of flavor he could get out of some foods. Of course there were those made specifically for vampires, which he dared not imbibe in lest he reveal his condition. Besides, they were mostly overly saccharine sweets.

Someday, he told himself yet again, he'd make sanguinaccio dolce. Someday. And no one would dare ask him to share it. Unlike when he'd been forced to make Christmas cookies two years back. Not that he'd wanted one if there had been any left. Everyone was always surprised that he was a good cook. It wasn't any different from making potions, just far less magical… and less taxing, less dangerous, but with far more possibilities for surreptitious poisoning. Still, he did miss the full flavor of dark chocolate. After all, he wasn't about to go searching people's veins for a taste of it. But sanguinaccio dolce, that was chocolate Made with blood. It was once considered a peasant's dish in Italy, but these days it had fallen into obscurity and decadence. He had tasted it once, before he'd turned. It was, of course, at one of Malfoy's parties. It had been rich and smooth even then. Made with pig's blood the hint of copper paired with the chocolate and orange grated over it exquisitely.

Made with human blood now, after his turning? He could scarcely imagine how good it would be. He'd tried it with pig's blood a few years back, it had been just as every other food was; acceptable. If he used human blood, if he could find someone who tasted of oranges, or cloves, or wine… Or all three. If he could persuade them to donate.

The professor was still pondering donations for the decadent chocolate dish when the first class of the day came in. Snape sneered, second year students. Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, not a good combination. The Slytherins would try to make life hard for the Hufflepuffs, sensing they were easy prey. It was amusing to watch, and though it sometimes got to a point that Severus Snape himself frowned upon, there was nothing he could do about it. While he was of course biased towards his own house, he could still treat the other houses slightly more fairly; but both he and Albus knew the Dark Lord would return, and if the remaining Death Eaters doubted his loyalty at all there would be a smaller chance of him being able to continue his spying career.

Still, it was always amusing to watch the stupid antics of the students, as long as no large scale damage was done. It was most definitely a reason to hand out detentions, and to teach the students to do things subtly, or not at all. Unfortunately very few learned that lesson.

Standing up, the Potions Professor strode to the front of the room and pointed at the board.

"Desaturation Draught, ingredients are to your right, have a sample bottled and on my desk by the end of class, even you should be able to manage that. Any disruptions will be rewarded with a detention. Begin." He said curtly. The students sighed looking at the complicated instructions on the board and Snape headed back to his desk to grade fourth year papers on Metamorph Potions. Soon the sound of simmering cauldrons permeated the walls of the dungeon, creating a calming atmosphere for the professor.

Halfway through the period Snape finished grading the papers and started to walk around the class looking at the current states of the potions. He sneered at a particularly bad one with the consistency and color of sludge and vanished it from the dismayed girl's cauldron.

"Start over. If you hurry you might finish before the period ends."

In the entire class five potions were vanished, sixteen are pronounced dismal, three were adequate, one was a good attempt, and one was worth an inclination of the head. Going back to his desk, Snape thought over the homework assignment for this class, and was ready to announce it when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. That girl's potion, too much shrivlefig, which by itself was of little consequence, but with many other people rushing to redo the potion before class finished, it was just slightly more worrying.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing that caught the keen eye of the Potions Master. Across the aisle a Slytherin boy was attempting to poke a pile of unused ingredients into a girl's cauldron. A Hufflepuff girl a couple of rows back was rolling a small burning object across the floor into a Slytherin girl's fire, one who had ruined her best friend's potion last week. Snape didn't even try to stop it, the speed he'd need to stop all three problems would most definitely be suspicious and obviously inhuman. So, he just readied his wand and waited for the inevitable catastrophe. He did not have to wait long at all.

Not two seconds later the boy succeeded in pushing a scarab's wing, a dragon's tooth, hemlock, and a writing quill into the girl's cauldron, which began to bubble immediately. A half second after that, and back a few rows, the Slytherin girl's fire blazed hot causing the potion to come to a roiling boil, overflowing onto the ground. The fumes from the potions filled the air and flames blazed as they devoured the gas hungrily. Now engorged, the fire evaporated what remained of the one boy's potion, and started on the potions around it, causing a few burns and screams. The third girl's potion spit bubbles into the air and began to spill over the sides as well now.

"Get out NOW!" Yelled Snape as he strode to the center of the room. In the haste to get out two cauldrons were tipped over and three rolling cauldrons hit a nearby shelf of potions ingredients with great force, one potion eating away at the base of the shelf. As the contents of the shelf began to fall toward the potion covered floor Snape's eyes grew wide. Surrounded by bubbling potions and tipping cauldrons it was all he could do to throw a containment spell around the room as a single thought ran through his head.

This entire class would have detention for a month.

At least.

—-

The first thing Snape was aware of when he woke was that it was totally dark. Touching his forehead with his left hand, he felt wetness. Blood. He could smell it.

Not in the mood to find out if it was his or somebody else's, Snape wiped his hand on his robes. Looking around was impossible, as the only thing he could see was his hand in front of his face and some type of wall thirteen inches away. Trying to move, he realized that his right arm and hand were stuck in the wall, along with the wand that hand was holding. Trying to move his feet he found that his left leg was stuck under something. He couldn't move his left arm far enough to get rid of whatever was crushing his leg, and his right leg couldn't do much either.

Ready to melt whatever he was trapped in with his wand, or try punching his way out, Snape heard a pounding noise. He sighed and rapped his knuckles on the side of his prison and was rewarded with a gong-like sound. The pounding stopped.

"Severus? Severus, are you in there? Are you hurt?" McGonagall's muffled voice reached Snape's ears, and he sighed.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine Minerva, I'm having a wonderful time trapped in this metal prison." Snape ground out. He heard an angry snort of disdain from Minerva followed by a chuckle a few seconds later.

"It's good to see you are all right Severus, and that your current predicament has not affected your usual bouts of sarcasm."

Snape groaned as he heard Albus Dumbledore's voice.

"Now if you would be so kind as to send some kind of indication as to where you are we could-"

"Albus, I'm trapped in metal, you're not going to see a single indicator spell I cast. It's a damn good thing I don't need to breathe!" This time he could hear McGonagall chuckle too. Snape rolled his eyes and cast a blasting charm. The loud bang causes the whole metal prison to vibrate, but despite the newly acquired headache, Snape succeeded in getting his hand free.

"Ah yes, I see you now Severus. Beautiful sounds that this prison of yours makes, I'm afraid we will have to destroy it to get you out."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose at the headmaster's comment, trying to force down the rude reply he wanted to say.

"Yes. Such a pity." He sneered even though no one could see it.

"Yes, well now that we've located you we're going to try to cut you out. Hold still and tell us if you feel any pain." Announced Dumbledore.

Snape bit back another retort and instead simply waited to be let out.

Soon enough the metal prison fell open and Snape blasted his leg free now that he could see where to aim. He stood up in the middle of what appeared to be a mass of at least 15 cauldrons melted together haphazardly. If he wasn't already dead, he surely would have been.

Snape cursed at the mess and the useless cauldrons to a corner by the door. Keeping them for at least a while would serve as a reminder to unruly children that potions were, in fact, dangerous.

"All the students got out all right?" He questioned his two 'saviors who looked particularly angelic amidst the falling dust and backlit by light from the hallway. He noted that the door had been blown off its hinges and there were a few missing stones in the wall, but everything seemed to be fairly intact on this side of the classroom.

"Yes, your containment charm worked wonders, even Flitwick would be impressed. However, it was therefore strong enough to rebound the exiting cauldrons back at you, sticking you quite firmly in their middle. Very lucky you didn't break anything."

Snape took the praise in stride, as in he ignored it in favor of sarcasm. "Albus, I'm quite sure most everything in that room was broken, including my bones." Snape said quietly while he pulled his hair from his face with a little effort as it was stiff with dried potion ingredients and seemed determined to fall back in front of his face.

"Severus! You're bleeding!" McGonagall cried concernedly. Snape reached up to his forehead where he had felt the blood before and touched the spot where the liquid was. There would be no wound for him to check, as he would have already healed such a minor abrasion, he had healed the other major ones too. Having had such a recent meal it would have been no trouble, and he could tell it had happened by the slightly more than mild hunger he felt that indicated his meal had gone to healing him.

Either way the blood on his forehead would tell him what he needed to know. Namely if it was indeed his.

Licking his finger Snape froze in horror; it wasn't his, it wasn't even blood. It just smelled like it. Such a small amount would not do him harm, but what it meant caused Snape great pain. He turned around to get a better look at his classroom through the settling vapours and dust, and was greeted with a hole the size of a desk featured on the back wall.

The back wall that held his store of potions on the other side, the store which held the blood replenishing filled blood and Ivan's blood. The substance on his forehead was the last of his potion, the last of his sustenance; the rest was in pools on the floor. Severus stood there in shock, not hearing the concerned remarks coming from his fellow colleagues.

"Severus, do you think you'll be able to teach in another classroom for two days while this one is renovated? Of course you shall have as much time as you need to recover yourself, and…why not my dear boy?" Dumbledore asked confusedly as Snape shook his head. Severus merely lightly gestured at the hole in the wall and otherwise stood still. He was startled out of his state of mind by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Severus, do you need to see Poppy? Are you well?" Minerva's voice sounded close to his ears, but that wasn't what the Potions Master was paying attention to. A nearby drumbeat reverberated, growing louder till he could not concentrate on anything else. A heartbeat, so close Snape could almost taste it. He leaned his head on the nearby shoulder faking pain, so he could get closer to the sound. The beats were there, always there, but he ignored them easily. Most of the time. But now, with starvation looking at him in the face, it seemed deathly loud and tempting. His forehead on soft green cloth he slowly grabbed the shoulder and dug his fingers into the fabric. It was so close, and the smell of parchment–

"Severus? Severus! What is wrong!?" Minerva's surprised and concerned voice brought him out of his trance. With a brusk shake of his head and a dusting of his robes he stood and turned to face his fellow employee.

"What's wrong is that nearly my entire food supply, my salvation, is now mixing with the mess on the dungeon floor."

McGonagall put her hand up to her mouth in shock, and even Dumbledore looked a little concerned.

"Soon every living thing in this castle will become a very tempting food source for a very hungry, and eventually a possibly guiltless, vampire."