Next morning Snape woke up tired and hungry, very hungry. The cyclical events of feeding and losing blood were becoming maddening, and decidedly droll. Still, he was thankful for another 'dreamless' sleep. Many nights were not so kind with the memories they presented him, especially when he was stressed.

Snape rolled around in his sheets, trying to get untangled. Yawning he slowly headed to the mirror. His beard had grown over night, thanks to the medallion that made his heart beat. A false life which on occasion meant his body forgot it was dead. Last time it had happened was five months ago. Now his beard was just slightly longer than he cared for, and since Dumbledore was taking over his classes; regrettably, he had time to trim it slowly for once. He usually just trimmed it with a spell to make sure it did not interfere with his potions work, but today he had time, so why not?

He pondered as he took up scissors to the hair that was becoming a bit unkempt for his taste. He was feeling a bit more back to normal, the effects from the Flux Draught potion seemed to be lessening, slowly.

Since the potion wasn't normally used for this purpose, its effects in this instance weren't well documented. The potency of older vampires was also not well documented; nor were their nutritional needs. He could tell his hearing was sharper, his ability to sense the… drums. It was quite annoying. He had heard that older vampires required less blood to survive, but they hungered was quite a bit of contradictory information. He also had a feeling that the flux potion's effects would, no doubt, be complicated by the fact that he hadn't consumed actual blood for at least 8 years, before his accidental transformation. He also had no doubt that was why he was…Well, it felt like when he first turned. That slight red fog was only on the edges of his mind right now, but he knew it could get worse. If it didn't… if fought it off with constant occlumency and fell into the mindset he used when he was around the Dark Lord… there was a small chance that… No.

He would let neither happen. He would neither kill wantonly nor with premeditated lust. He would not kill at all. He looked at himself in the mirror, the reflection was blotchy. A reflection only made possible by a lotion of his own devising, one that had rubbed off during the night. He'd re-apply it later, he'd just have to take care with his trimming.

A bit later, a half inch of hair was in the sink before him. He washed it away as he rinsed his face. When he looked up his reflection was gone. He sighed and turned on the shower. He groomed himself slowly this morning, taking a while in the shower and enjoying the fact that he had time to do so, although that pleasant fact was marred by the gnawing in his gut. Once out he began to apply the lotions that allowed him to blend into society; have a reflection, not turn to dust in sunlight. He meandered through various questions while he applied them. Would the effect of the Flux Draught dissipate completely? He had a feeling it wouldn't. Curse that boy, nearly ending his spying career, nearly ending his teaching career. He was lucky the pompous boy hadn't thought to share any one of his findings, hoarding that knowledge for himself in hopes of blackmail. A quick bit of legilimency had confirmed as much, whilst the boy cowered under his teeth. Hopefully the merpeople had enjoyed the meat.

Soon Snape stepped out of the bathroom, his hair greasy and smelling slightly of old shoes. It was time for breakfast in the Great Hall and Dumbledore said he should walk about, and he should at least stop in for the announcement about Dumbledore taking over his classes for a day, perhaps more. Dressing quickly he left his room, nimbly stepping over the hamper of dirty clothes that would be picked up by the house elves later that day.

Walking the halls he headed for breakfast to see if he could get some sausages or rare bacon. Of course it couldn't be a peaceful transit.

"Furnunculus!"

"Reita!"

"Rictusempra!"

"Petrificus totalus!"

"Tyflosi!"

"Once again, ENOUGH!" He yelled as he waved his wand in a quick half circle.

The two students froze in place mid cast as Snape stalked toward them.

"Did I not make myself clear yesterday? There is to be no fighting in the halls! One Hundred and Fifty Points! From each of you! And detention with Filch all week! Finite Incantatum!" The students stayed in place, one's arm ready to cast the next spell but seemingly unable to move, the other was feeling about aimlessly in front of themself.

"Well? Must I spell it out for you every time? To the Infirmary! And I told you to cut your hair!" The students still did not move. Snape furiously stalked up to the boy with short hair and put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"What? Who's there? Bill? Go get a professor-"

"Too bad one has already found you."

The student turned his head slowly to look blindly beside him. "H-hello Professor?"

"Fifty points, infirmary, now! And 100 points from Bill Thorance!" Snape barked.

"How did...Professor, I can't see, I can barely hear you."

Snape grumbled and walked toward the other boy, who still seemed unable to move.

"Finite incantatem tria potens. Go take your fellow student to the infirmary. Now. And if I catch either of your dueling again you will be having detention with me. For a month." The boy stood there for a moment before scrambling to get the other student and running off.

Snape glowered after them for a moment before continuing his trek toward some form of sustenance.

It seemed, the school needed to start a dueling club once more. He was tired of students fighting out their various disagreements or hormones in the hallways. He pondered on who he could get to manage it, and if he should do it himself. It would mean he might get to put students, or his fellow teachers, through their paces. Half of those spells had missed, perhaps their aim and choice of spells would improve if he petrified them enough. They didn't even seem to know how to cast a shield charm, they could barely disarm an opponent. And if they were simply aiming to embarrass or incapacitate, there were far more interesting spells than furnunculus. Far more subtle.

Soon enough he arrived at the main hall. As he neared the open door he stopped. The sound was deafening, a cacophony of drumbeats and rushing rivers sung under the yells and chatter of the morning. It was overwhelmingly loud. He felt like he was standing at the base of a waterfall with an entire orchestra composed of drums on his other side. He looked up to the head table at Dumbledore and met his eyes. Dumbledore nodded and with all the affirmation he needed. Snape turned with a flourish and left, but not before he saw McGonagall's concerned eyes. A thought flashed through his mind that made him rush towards his chambers. The vial, the blood McGonagall had given him yesterday, was still in his old robes.

With as fast a walk as he could muster, without breaking into an unseemly run, Snape made his way towards his rooms. He swung open the door so hard it shrieked as its hinges strained. There, his laundry basket. He rushed over and reached in, only to find nothing. It was Wednesday, faculty laundry day. The basket nearly snapped in his hand. He took a deep breath and re-focused his mind. Control was imperative at all times. Emotions allowed for entry into one's mind, allowed for distraction, and unwanted introspection. Everything was fine, he just needed to call the elf assigned to the chambers in the dungeon. He shot a repairo at the basket as he stood up.

"Lintals!"

With a pop a small female house elf appeared. One ear was slightly tattered and her eyes were a deep yellow which did not compliment the brown and blue bed sheet she wore.

"Yes, how can Lintals be helping-" the words died on her lips as she saw Snape looming over her, eyes hard. All the elves were aware of Snape's condition, just as they were aware of Remus'. They were fairly sure they weren't considered food, —fairly sure.

"Lintals, there was a vial in the pocket of my robes last night which I forgot to remove. You collected my laundry this morning, did you see the vial?"

"Lintals believes so Mr, Snape sir."

"You believe so?" Snape whispered icily. Lintals squeaked.

"Lintals saw a few vials this morning sir, Lintals is sure one was yours."

"Could you please retrieve it for me?"

"Yes Master Snape sir!" And with a pop the house elf was gone. Snape sat in his chair to wait. Five minutes went by. This was abnormally long for a house elf. Ten minutes.

Snape had had enough.

"Brinnie!" There was a pop and another elf appeared. An old old male with drooping ears wearing old ripped socks students had left behind as arm and leg warmers stood before him, not scared in the least. Brinnie was never one for rules, or anything else really. He had stopped caring about five decades ago, according to Dumbledore. Now he just got his work done and went out back to fish in the lake and smoke plants that should by all rights have killed him years ago. He stood with a slight look of interest on his face, but Snape could smell the fish on him. He'd be eager to get this over efficiently and quickly. It's one of the reasons Snape liked him. He didn't want to be here, so he worked hard ensuring he didn't have to be. Apparently a stray hex to the head had done something to his mind years ago. He still served faithfully, but… he wasn't happy just serving as most were. Still, he caught at least a third of the fish used in cooking, so Snape supposed it was still serving. Either way, he knew this elf would work very quickly to fulfill his request.

"Yes Master Snape?"

"I sent Lintals to get a vial from my clothes and she has not returned. Find out what is going on and get her, and my vial!"

With a pop the elf was gone, wasting no time on replies. Less than a minute later there was another pop and both Brinnie and Lintals were back. Lintals was shaking, holding onto Brinnie as though for dear life, but Brinnie shook her off and pushed her forward. Snape's face was blank as he looked at her.

"What is the meaning of this? Where is my vial?"

"Master Snape sir, Lintals found vial sir, but was not sure if it was right vial because there were other vials like it in pile of items from dungeon clothes batch. So- so Lintals opened vial to smell but some spilled. Vial was not-not- not full like it was. Lintals needed to find more of liquid like in vial, to replace what was missing, so she could return it like it was, but Lintals could not figure out what potion was in vial! It just smelled like copper. Bad Lintals! Lintals is bad house elf!" Lintals began to pull her ears in shame.

Snape sighed and held out his hand. Lintals stopped pulling her ears and shakily dropped the vial into his hand and backed away. The vial was ¾ full. Every drop lost was a huge loss, but there was nothing to be done, doubtless the spill would have been cleaned by now and the house elf would only punish herself.

"I am not pleased with this, but there is nothing to be done, so refrain from further self injury. Next time bring the vial and ask me instead of opening it…" The Potions Master paused, his curiosity coming to the fore. "You can tell which potion belongs to whom by smelling it?" Lintals nodded her head.

"Yessir, other professor has strawberry smelling potion, and another has one that smells like fire, they often forget them in their robes." Lintals exclaimed proudly. Snape shook his head and as he did he realized he could hear fast drumbeats, and his hunger came gnawing again. Snape looked down at the two house elves, waiting to be dismissed, and had a wrenching realization.

They would do whatever was ordered of them.

His stomach turned and growled, audibly. As Lintals squeaked and took a step back Snape took a moment to silently curse the charm which allowed him to eat for creating a facsimile of life so well.

"Would mister Snape sir like some food?" Came the shaking query.

Snape nodded, a plan forming.

"Yes. Please bring me some steak, raw. Brinnie, you are dismissed." With a loud pop both elves were gone. Snape immediately put the reclaimed vial into his bed side table drawer and retrieved another empty vial and waited. Moments later Lintals returned with a plate of raw steak which Snape indicated she should put on a nearby table, which the elf did shakily.

"May Lintals be going now sir?"

"Not quite yet." The elf was practically on the verge of fainting, Snape could hear her small heart pattering away frantically. He held up the vial. "I need a small bit of blood for a potion, it can't very well be mine and I cannot ask a student, would you please provide me with some? About say, the amount you spilled from the other vial?"

"Is Lintals being punished sir?" Asked the shaking elf.

"No, you would know if you were."

The elf nodded and with a snap of her fingers there was a bit of red in the vial. "Thank you Lintals, you may go as you wish." The elf popped out of there before the sentence finished echoing off the dungeon walls. Snape marked the cork of the vial with a quill and put it next to the other vial, which he removed. He was hungry, the cacophony of heartbeats from that morning and the frantic one from moments before had not helped the aching in his stomach that he had woken with. It was already worse since that cursed potion, anything that exacerbated it further was not good. Now was not the time for finding out what house elf blood did to a vampire. He threw a stasis charm on the new vial before closing the drawer.

He looked between the vial and the raw steak, and sat down at the table. He drained the glass of pumpkin juice brought with the steak and poured a bit of blood from the vial into the cup. He then began to cut up the steak.

He eagerly put a piece in his mouth and chewed, then scowled. It was good, and he would most definitely eat it, but there was not enough blood in it to even coat his throat, not that blood from something dead really helped anyway. He pushed the plate away and picked up the glass. He still didn't know whose blood this was. He smiled, he'd know soon enough. He sipped from the glass.

It was… amazing. He swallowed, and his entire body tingled with magic. He knew whose this was. He sipped, and took a deep breath. It tasted of magic, of mice, black tea, and scrolls. He finished the glass, fully sated after the small amount and set to work on the steak. He looked at the nearly full vial and smiled slightly.

"What a generous cat you are, McGonagall."

Over the next week Snape had another sip from the vial. Classes went on as normal, and there were no fights in hallways. That weekend he took another sip after trying the vial from the house elf, which, while filling, tasted odd and made him mildly nauseous.

The next week was stressful, two Owl level courses had exams, and he had a sip from the vial for each day as he had a feeling something might go wrong. It would have, if he hadn't petrified the student mid wand movement, and stopped their attempt at sabotaging their rival. He knew he was faster, but this was proof. His reflexes had always been better when he ate actual food instead of his potion, but this had been more than that.

That weekend he graded papers and served detention to two students, whom he watched scrub cauldrons, while having another sip from a goblet to celebrate, and enjoyed the tingling sensation of magic in his veins.

The week after, he had four sips, because he had to deal with first years' study hall, and his senses and reactions were sharper after drinking from the vial. He knew this to be true now. He caught two firecrackers, vanished three almost explosive potions, and stopped two fights in the hall, where he deflected spells midway to their target, and intercepted one late night wanderer as they left their dorm. He had two sips that weekend so he'd be ready for more the next week.

By the end of the month the vial contained only one sip, which he had at the start of the new month after drinking the rest of the house elf blood hungrily.

By the second week of of the following month Severus Snape was starving, more so than before. His veins itched and felt empty no matter how many fights he broke up, or house elves he obliviated. He yearned for more, for something else. Nothing helped. He had worked on finding an alternative source, worked on reverse engineering the new blood replenishing potion, looked at books on wandless magic that were far too rudimentary to help him manipulate energy other than his own. Finally he accepted that he would need to talk to McGonagall. He had an inkling what was going on, but was not prepared to admit it, not yet.

The next morning he paused at the entrance of the grand hall, looking up at the table where she sat. Eating. As if nothing was wrong. As if the itching in his veins hadn't grown into an aching pull in his gut. As if he couldn't somehow hear her heartbeat above hundreds of others.

He had resolved to talk to the woman. He could ask, but it would just be a vial. He wanted more. Snape started walking forward. He could feel the eyes on him and hear students turning their heads. He was never late, he was always early or absent. So him walking through the hall after a meal had started drew attention. He didn't care. It had taken an hour and a half to decide whether he was coming, to steel himself for the prospect of asking for help. He wanted, needed more. Could he get more? How? He glanced at a student that was animatedly describing something. McGonagall cared for their well-being, he did as well. Did she know that? He could trade one for Minerva, but if she declined, he'd have to… it might be worth it. It- no. No. A vial. He needed a vial. These were not thoughts he should be entertaining.

He walked more quickly up to his seat, eager to be near one large temptation instead of hundreds of small ones. He nodded acknowledgement as he passed by his colleagues and sat next to his meal. No benefactor. Colleague.

He pushed aside all other food on the plates before him except for the nearly raw bacon that appeared in a heap as he sat down. He heard the drum as he chewed but pushed it out of his head. He ate for a few moments before talking. Couldn't make his need too obvious.

"McGonagall, is there any way I could obtain another vial for my studies?" He said as nonchalantly as he could.

McGonagall looked at Snape surprised.

"Severus that vial should be barely half empty, a sip or two a week should not have depleted it. I know you will be hungry most of the time, but all it is supposed to do is stave off starvation while we look for a solution. We cannot risk addiction, from what I have been told. You should not be drinking more, and as such it should not be empty."

"A house elf spilled a good bit when retrieving it from my robes after I was injured."

"Ah, I can have some for you tomorrow morn-"

"This evening please."

McGonagall started. It was unlike him to ask for things, let alone make his want apparent by interrupting. He had been too obvious in his heightened need. He really was slipping. He needed to find a solution, before it endangered more than just the students or teachers; that was bad enough, but it could endanger his ability to be a spy.

"Are you quite alright , Severus?" Severus staved off a twitch by tensing instead and he looked at Minerva briefly before staring ahead.

"I am fine, just a bit hungry."

McGonagall somehow sincerely doubted that. So it was six days later at 11:30 PM as she got ready for bed that she was alerted by the measuring charm she had placed on the vial.

It was already over half empty.