WARNING. There is a masturbation scene in the chapter.
Diagon Alley was damp that time of year. Nocturn Alley was even more so. Snape pulled his hood up before he turned onto the narrow winding street and hunched a bit, changing his posture just enough to make him look old. He did not want to be seen here, not yet.
He opened the door to Burgen and Borks and with a quick freshening charm stood up straight. After a nod to the owner, who had decided to make a rare appearance, he stepped through the door in the back.
The dark in the room was so all encompassing that the light from the small lantern there seemed to have to fight for each inch it illuminated. From out of the dark stepped a figure, tall and thin, with fine features and a confident smile.
Suddenly the lantern light swelled, showing crates in the corner of the round stone room that had two doors; one of which Snape had walked through and closed behind him.
His master stood in the center before him, waiting for him in the flickering light, shadows seeming to reach out for him from all edges of the room.
"You are late Severus."
"My apologies, my lord. There was an -"
"Your excuses neither please nor interest me. Your loyalty does. Did you fast?"
"Yes my lord. I am yours. I give myself fully to the cause."
"And the mudblood you're so infatuated with?"
Snape hesitated.
"Serve me well and maybe you can keep her as a pet."
"I could not ask for more, my lord."
"But I can. I ask for everything. I asked for your life. You gave it to me. Now I ask for more."
At this Severus looked up, eyes full of confusion for a fraction of a second before he regained control and forced them to go blank. The Dark Lord smiled and raised his hand, motioning for his minion to rise.
"I am eternal. I need an eternal...spy, someone who answers to me and has no other agenda."
"I could not presume to know how I could equal your feat of immortality. It is yours alone. I am not worthy." Snape stiffened infinitesimally, immortality was not something he wanted, all the ways one could gain it were either guarded heavily or too dangerous. It was commonly known that Nicholas Flamel planned to take his knowledge to the grave, and any other way was likely to end up killing you. Wizards already had extraordinarily long life spans and he was content with that, as long as he could spend it with… her.
"You're right. You can not equal it, to even presume you could is insulting. Crucio." The word echoed through the back room of the shop and Snape's screams followed the sound. He fell to the floor with a thud, nearly buried in his robes, the only sign of life a faint twitching.
"No one will ever equal it." The Dark lord paced back and forth before his prostrate follower. "I overlooked your… pedigree in favor of your loyalty and skill. I allowed you to stay despite your disgusting blood because of your hatred, and your use as a spy. In doing this I gained a greater servant than many of those of purer blood I have within my circle. Now your loyalty has been proven. You have given me the prophecy, I shall be free of this annoyance soon and with that our war effort shall only grow in size."
Severus coughed, spit tinged with red hitting the floor as he pushed himself up from the hard unyielding stone which still felt comforting against the heat radiating off his muscles after the Cruciatus.
"I am loyal, my lord."
"I know your loyalty, I know your doubts, your wants, your... needs. I know you Severus Snape, and now that I know you, your blood holds no interest to me...but it does for someone else." At this Severus dared to look up. "Nishaan." A tall very pale figure emerged from the darkness behind the Dark Lord. His platinum hair twice as long as Lucius', his face was narrower than the Lord's. He wore a suit, all black with a startlingly red tie, decidedly muggle apparel. The Dark Lord seemed to ignore this as he nodded at the kneeling form of Severus on the ground.
"Your meal as promised for the favor in return."
The man smiled at this, and stepped forward before bending over to help Severus up. Under the gaze of his lord Severus did not want to show weakness and attempted to stand on his own while simultaneously backing away from the man. He failed as Nishaan grabbed his wrist and hoisted him up with ease, setting him on his feet.
"Evening." As the man spoke, Snape saw what he'd missed in the dim light now that he was close. The sharp canines, the telltale sign of the vampire.
"My-My lord?"
"You vowed your life to me, I am taking it and giving you another. Do you disobey me?" The Dark Lord circled the pair as they stood frozen in tableau and looked upon them both with mild interest. Severus however was in mental turmoil, he did not know what to do… if he disobeyed he would die, if he accepted he would die a different death… The vampire however decided for him. Severus was pulled forward and teeth were plunged deeply, painfully, into his neck. He screamed from shock as agony shot through him and automatically lifted his wand.
"Accio Severus' wand." The wand flew out of his hand and into the waiting palm of his master. "None of that Severus. Cease your struggling, and decide."
Severus could do nothing. He had no wand, the vampire was stronger physically, and his master was far stronger magically. Still he struggled for a brief moment from instinct before another crucio hit him. He screamed and writhed in pain and the vampire held on stronger to keep his meal still. The pain at his neck felt dull in comparison, he could barely tell his flesh was being torn open, his life drained out of him. The spell dropped but he continued to twitch and spam from the pain and aftermath of tense overexerted muscles until a partial body bind hit him and he froze.
Nishaan stopped his meal to murmur a thanks before continuing. The aftermath of the pain was akin to the throes of an orgasm, sending shooting throbs of heat through him, although these were nowhere near pleasing. The heat tore through his nerves creating the need for twitches and spasms that could not be fulfilled and which left him even weaker and more drained than before.
Finally the binding spell was dropped and he felt limp and spent. Snape knew it was his body failing as he lost blood; he fell faint and collapsed in the predator's arms. He was dying. The pull at his neck was no longer painful, but seemed a slightly pleasant warmth. A comfort, mildy sensual. Still, he could feel his life draining from him and he looked to his lord for help.
"It is time to decide Severus. Die now, or serve me forever."
Nishaan hissed in complaint but removed his lips from the wound with one last lick, his unwilling benefactor barely awake as the vampire waited to find out if he would be finishing his meal, or cutting it short.
Snape could barely think, all he knew was he didn't want to die, not yet. It was too soon. He had things to do.
"Turn him."
Nishaan sighed but brought his own wrist to his mouth. A quick bite and his wrist blossomed crimson rivers which he brought to his meal's lips and pressed down.
Severus was too tired to move his arms or legs, he could only swallow as liquid filled his slack mouth. Swallow or choke; instinct dictated the former even though he could barely manage the action due to weakness.
The liquid tasted odd, coppery and slightly salty but also of something else that whispered in the back of his palette. Slowly he felt his stomach begin to ache, as if from hunger. The blood– for that's what it was, there was no doubt about it– still dripped into his mouth, but despite this his throat grew dry. He knew he should be disgusted, but instead he swore he could taste licorice. Perhaps this was that faint taste from before, clearer as he died.
His muscles throbbed as they longed to move, to do something to counter this lack of blood, lack of energy… this hunger… this thirst. He was so tired.
He needed something to eat, to drink, and the liquid, blood, wasn't coming fast enough. His throat was not just dry, it was sore, and his entire body felt tight and empty. It was like every muscle was experiencing growing pains at once. He finally managed to weakly grab the arm that was feeding him, and tried to pull it closer.
"No." The vampire above him began to back away but a motion from afar stopped his movement. The sound of a wand moving through the air broke the silence and the vampire froze. He could only stare as his meal from moments before turned the tables, bit down harder, gorged themself.
Minutes passed, Severus' mind was a haze of pain, confusion and thirst. Somehow the memory of loneliness was on his tongue along with the haunting flavor of fermented strawberries. Minutes passed. One, three, four. His stomach ached as it filled, soon feeling fit to burst, but his hunger did not abate.
Suddenly amidst a mouthful of thirst his veins began to burn and his hold on the arm that was feeding him failed.
He fell to the floor in agony as his pores sweated the water from his body away. His entire being was on fire, it felt as if he were a husk burning from the inside out. He was dimly aware of a spell being cast and the vampire being thrown out of a side door. Daylight shone in and the creature's scream was quickly silenced. His master studied him calmly for a long moment before exiting the stone room, the door locking behind him.
It was five hours later when Snape felt his heart stop.
He was frozen in place, a stiff stiff. A corpse whose mind still worked. A dead man whose veins ached and felt like empty hallways. A cadaver who grew colder than he had ever felt in the unheated home of his youth. The remains of a fool that slowly began to twitch back to a facsimile of life.
He laid in the room for days, but it felt more like years. He burned internally, his veins and organs on fire as they adapted to his new needs, his new false life. He shivered, cold and empty, as real life had long since left him.
With no food in his body, there was nothing to expel as he died. He had to thank his Lord for that, or perhaps he just hadn't wished to come back to filth. Either way, he felt empty. Empty in more ways than he ever had before. Empty… and alone.
"Li-lily." The whisper vanished quickly, refusing to echo and keep him company. How would she ever love him, accept him, like this? As a Death Eater he could have impressed her with feats of magic, power, but as this? Power was nothing if it came with a need that might kill her. He would disgust her. Even more than he had before.
He curled tighter in a ball as every bit of him but his mouth screamed. He was empty. There was no food. There was no blood. There was no love. He felt as if his very soul had fled. Perhaps it had.
He ached. He was so hungry. For life, for human touch, for kind, or even unkind, words; anything that let him know he was not as alone as he lay trapped in the dead flesh encasing him.
Days passed. When he could finally stand he stumbled to the doors, but they were reinforced. Scratching, banging, yelling, nothing changed. He could hear voices on the other side of the iron reinforced wood occasionally, along with an odd drumming noise. It was maddening, but comforting, this sound, this drumming. He stood next to the two doors for hours, listening, desperate for any contact, any distraction from the constant aching, constant burning. Constant emptiness.
Finally after four days something happened. Snape was lying down when he'd heard it.
"What are you doing? Give me back my wand!" The voice was closer than the others had ever been. He stood up and looked at the door he'd come through, swaying a little with weakness. "What's going on? Look I-"
"Shut up you filthy mudblood."
Snape perked up, he recognized the voice spouting the insults. Goyle. The door opened.
"Lunch." Goyle said impassively as a man was shoved in and the door was shut, and then locked. The man stumbled, his purple suit stained with fresh mud, and now also with white dust from the walls of the chamber.
"What? Let me out!"
Snape's body tensed. The drumbeat. It was so loud, tempting. He took a step forward.
The man turned. "Who…who is? Snape? Severus? What are you…what's wrong with you?"
Snape finally recognized the man. He was a student one year below him, a mudblood Ravenclaw who was known for his fondness of muggle puzzles. Something called rubix… Cresley…
Snape took another step forward, Cresley took one back, green eyes wide and blond hair quivering as he shook his head. Snape took another one forward, and another, and another, his hunched form slowly straightening with each step.
Cresley was against the door. "Let me out. …let me out. Let me out!" He cried, banging against the door to the store. Snape was stepping forward for some reason, he hadn't meant to; but then, suddenly, he was beside the man.
"Wait, no!"
Snape's hand was on Cresley's neck, and then he felt it, the drumbeat, it was the man's pulse. His heart. Snape's teeth and gums ached… and then fangs he didn't know he possessed were in Cresely's neck.
Sweet relief. Ecstasy. Oranges, burnt firewood, and summer skies.
"No! No! Help! Nooo! Stop. Noooo. noo no…"
Comfort and bliss. The ache, hunger, yearning, lessened slightly. Forever, let this go on forever. The cries were lessening, like the burbling of a brook in the background as he drank and warmth filled him. Almost, almost feigning life as his veins filled. No, it could not last forever. He could feel the drum falter, oh it felt good to feel that drumbeat reverberate in his throat. He wanted to be disgusted, knew he should be, but somehow that didn't matter compared to the peace he felt right then, peace like he hadn't known for a long time as the drum slowly faded. Snape was struck by the silence, the total silence. No drumbeat, no screaming. The food, the blood, was gone. There was a mind shattering thud as Cresley's body hit the floor and, quiet though it was, it felt a cacophony in the absence of drumbeats and screams.
Snape slowly walked toward the door, still in a daze.
As soon as the drumbeat had stopped the ache had returned. Hungry, so hungry it hurt. The peace was gone, the ecstasy was gone, the warmth, gone. He was less empty but the pervasive loneliness hung behind him like an unwanted shadow.
And now, he knew this empty feeling, the yearning, the hunger, would only be gone when he was eating. Feeding. Ohhh… That first taste. His veins felt angry now that they knew what they wanted, half full and left wanting. He knew he should feel better now that he'd eaten, but somehow it was worse. He felt as if he was in the aftermath of a cruciatus, that burning tenseness and disorientation which covered one like a blanket after an hour, and stayed with you for three. Maybe if he had more… food it would go away.
Snape stopped at the door, and leaned his head against it.
"More. Please. I need more."
The voice on the other side sounded amused. "Don't worry. We won't let you starve, Snape." Crabbe.
Fury gripped the new vampire. "I AM starving!" The entire door shuddered and the hinges screeched as he slammed both fists into the heavy wood. There was an exclamation from the other side followed by a quick repairo. The hinges righted themselves then glowed briefly as they were hit by a reinforcement spell. After that there was laughter, but it faded quickly.
And no matter how much he hit the door, no voices returned for three days.
Another person was dropped in. A young woman, a muggle with blond hair and a dress that left nothing to the imagination. She tasted of something sweet, cigarettes, and clean sheets, the memory of soft cat fur vibrating under fingers as the creature purred.
And then another three days.
An old man, a wizard who Snape had heard wrote articles about muggle advancements in their science, and the equivalents in the wizarding world. He tasted of sweet cream, and the musty feel of moss after rain.
As Severus dropped him the door opened again and a spell hit him in the chest. He froze, unable to move.
Lucius came in, looking around curiously. His hair and clothing were as perfect as ever, his wand was out and ready, its cane sheath held loosely in his other hand.
"Ugh. Disgusting, it smells horrid in here."
"We're here to fix that." Infim stepped inside beside the tall platinum blond wizard. He was a small man with gray hair and a face rounder than Pettigrew's, but a wizard suit that was far nicer.
Lucius looked around with distaste before regarding Snape.
"Hello Severus. I specifically requested this meeting so I could see how you were doing."
Snape would have snarled if he could. Well, he would have eaten the man if he could. Of course Lucius had come, the man's smug smile told him everything. Lucius was here to see how far he had fallen. Filthy, covered in blood and sweat, trapped and dead. He could see the amusement and disgust on his 'friend's' face.
"So we're just here to dispose of the bodies?" Asked Infim, wand ready to cast Reducto.
"No, the Lord wants them."
"For what?"
"You dare question him!?" Infim cowered at Lucius' furious voice as the taller man spun to glare accusations and unsaid threats, ones which were writ plainly on his aristocratic face.
Infim swallowed, but levitated one of the corpses nonetheless. "No, of course not. I'm… just curious."
"That is not something you have the right to be. However, he mentioned inferi." Lucius said before he levitated the other two bodies.
"I've never seen one."
"Well, you may soon. It's your job to bring the chosen food to our master's new pet vampire now, and remove the corpses."
"Wait, what?" Fear and disgust filled the smaller man's voice as the door closed.
Snape lunged instinctually as the spell restraining him dropped. He slammed against the door and heard Lucius' laughter. He fumed.
Every three days someone brought him 'food'. And the ones in between were torture. It wasn't enough. It went on for weeks. He paced, listening at the door for his next meal.
He would eat, then be frozen while the bodies were removed. It was hard to think, everything seemed to be behind a haze of red. Still, he might be able to clear his mind, it would take some time but he would do it. He had to. If he didn't he felt he might go mad from hunger. He wanted to eat so badly. Blood, so warm, the fading drum in his throat as-
He shook his head clear of red thoughts. If he went down that path he would be lost for hours in desperate fantasies. Oh, but what fantasies. The thought of - He pushed them away. Occlumency should work just fine to organize and fight through this red fog.
Ten hours later his mind was clear, 2 hours after that he had a plan. He needed specific circumstances, but he could hold that need and his plan through the haze. Thinking through the fog was like trying to think with people yelling in your ear. Constantly yelling about something you wanted that was out of reach. Acting on instinct was easy, anything else required constant concentration. It felt similar to occluding his mind from his lord, which was why he suspected Occlumency might work.
He had come up with a plan. Now he just needed the barest bit of concentration to remember his goal. He could wait. In the meantime he could entertain fantasies for a bit. Like Lucius' throat between his teeth. He smiled at the thought, at what tearing through the flesh to get that internal jugular would feel like.
Or perhaps Lestrange, sucking her on multiple fronts as he thrust into her. The frail Muggle woman whose clothing left little to the imagination had shown him he was still capable of arousal after all, why not use it as a distraction? For both him and his victim, until it was far too late for either of them. A not so little 'petite morte' indeed. He paused. Perhaps such a thing could be a distraction now as well. He let himself fall into the lustful imaginings, it was as good a distraction as any from the ache in his veins.
The thought of warm skin beneath him, surrounding him, wet tongues licking him as he took himself in hand. The memory of his lips on the flesh of the various women who wanted to 'get in' with his master. Tender flutters and kisses punctuated with nibbles that would not be so gentle now. They'd screamed his name at the end, he was proud enough to ensure that. They'd scream for different reasons now… he fell deeper into darkness, the mist creeping in and tinging his fantasy red as he moved his hand up and down around his lukewarm flesh.
He hoped that he'd feel warmer than he did now if he ate beforehand, although perhaps some would like it cold. His flesh almost felt a little bit alive as he played a finger over his member's tip. He could imagine someone's mouth around it. Female or male, robust or lithe, pretty or ugly. It didn't seem to matter much any more, his previous preference for lithe men and slightly curvy women. Their hearts beat the same and so their fates would be the same. His teeth in their neck as they squirmed with pleasure and pain until they expired in red rivers down his throat.
Perhaps if he were after love or pleasure he would care, and death wouldn't be the only outcome, he told himself.
Green eyes flickered at the edge of his thoughts and he pushed them away harder than he had ever done before. These red visions came unbidden no matter what he thought of, he would not have her in them.
His lustful attempts at some form of distraction or relief as he toyed with his own flesh were tinged with more and more red. Teeth rending flesh, him inside them, but their life inside him. His fantasies were far more violent than they ever had been when he finally finished, frenzied and violent.
Hungrier than before he fell to the floor, spent slightly red in his hand.
New, but familiar, feelings pervaded him as he lay on the still unyielding stones, barely able to feel their uncaring cold. Shame. Horror. He found that with no water in his body, his tears were red. Apparently that's what everything was replaced by. He licked the tears off his fingers, hoping for sustenance, reprieve. They tasted like fermenting licorice and loneliness, and no relief came from them.
He stayed curled on the floor for twelve hours and six minutes. He knew, because he counted the seconds until he found the energy to clean himself up and not think upon what it was he was cleaning and why. After he was as unsullied as he could be after weeks in this room he listened at the door to the outside world in an attempt to forget… everything. In an attempt to pass time and keep a mental grip on the plan he had carved out. It was all he had.
He would not try that other distraction again, not as hungry as he was now. He had to rid himself of this red fog, this daze, this hunger. Maybe then he could pretend he was normal, maybe then his thoughts wouldn't always turn to devouring every person in them. He needed to stop this hunger. His plan. It was all he had, he had to focus, he had to wait. It was all he had to do. It was all he could do.
A month, it took a month. Ten more people. Bodies, slowly piling up and then taken away. The constant aching slowly dulled as the weeks passed, but it was still there. His fingers twitched when he thought of blood or listened to the heartbeats that moved just out of reach on the other side of the doors. He passed the time by letting himself drift in the red haze and fall into, less sexual, dark fantasies that still made him want to kill himself when he woke. He would never do anything to harm her. Never. Even if it always turned to that in his mind, he was resolute. He would walk into the sun first. Anyone else. Not her.
Maybe… maybe not those she cared for too. If he could. He wanted her to be happy after all, there was no way she could be with him. Although, perhaps she would be better alone than surrounded by those 'friends' that made her a target. That tore her from him, that poisoned her against him until one mistake was all it took to sever their ties. Besides… they would taste so good. Especially James, his neck snapping under his hands. He would taste, she would- no.
It was during this train of thought that Infim finally returned with what Snape wanted.
"Worthless muggle whore."
Snape froze as he heard the words.
"No, please no. I don't understand! I have money, do you want my money?"
"No, I don't want your useless cloth paintings of your useless queen!"
Snape moved quickly and stood right in front of the door, leaving just enough space for it to open.
"Get in! Your last use is-"
As Infim pushed the woman inside Snape grabbed the man's arm and tugged, pulling him in along with her.
"What! No!"
Snape spun around and closed the door by slamming his back into it. The exit secured, he squeezed Infim's wand hand and it cracked.
"AAAAAAAAAA-"
The wand on the ground Snape grabbed Infim by the shoulders and sunk his teeth in. The screaming stuttered briefly and then continued full force. Snape raised one hand and chopped the man's throat, a move that his father had used when he had cried too loudly. Infim's scream abruptly became a cough that quickly dwindled to a whimper.
Snape ignored it. He was in a trance, a red ocean of succulent success.
Freedom, bliss, warmth. Peace. Mushrooms and pine, a memory of wolf pelts falling down his throat, warming his stomach. He could feel it slowly spreading through his veins.
Screaming. The woman. Snape ignored her, her screams would stop soon enough.
When he finally finished with Infim he looked up to see the woman holding the wand in both hands, shaking as she faced the vampire before her. He dropped the body and almost gilded forward.
"P-please. I-I don't want to hurt you! I don't know why I'm here!"
This was why Snape had needed a muggle, he couldn't have another Wizard picking up the dropped wand, he couldn't risk it being taken from him while he was eating either. Couldn't risk his meal leaving—but a Muggle...
He kept walking forward and she shook the wand. Nothing happened of course. He would normally sneer, throw taunts, but he was too hungry.
The woman screamed and ran for the door, but Snape was between it and her. It was child's play to catch her, and that is what she tasted of; strawberries and spring outings.
After he dropped her he picked up Infim's wand and pocketed it before heading toward the door to the store. The ache was finally lessening, but it was not gone. His head still felt heavy, as if he'd had too much fire whiskey. It was slightly easier to think, but only slightly.
There was a single drumbeat nearby, it pounded loud and quick in his ears. He needed it, wanted it. Snape slowly pushed opened the door, peering out into the storefront. It was sunny. However the windows of the store were opaque with a thick layer of dust from years of inattentive and uncaring shopkeepers. He stuck a hand out tentatively into the room filled with deadly luminescence.
It was uncomfortable, but it was not direct sunlight. He paused, the drumbeat was still in the store. Close by, calling him. He looked at the door to the outside world. Choices, escape routes, should be removed.
"Colloportus." The spell hit the door and the handle clicked down. A whimper sounded from the corner to his left and Snape's head snapped toward it. In seconds he was standing over a small old man with glasses too big for his head and hair that had decided to give up the fight long ago. He was huddled next to an old armoire, wand shaking in his hand, but still pointed at the vampire
"No, please. I'm loyal! I've been a-"
A quick stupefy and the clerk was down, and soon was gone. Dark chocolate and the must of grapes ready to be made into wine played on the back of Snape's tongue.
Severus felt his mind clear fully for the first time in over a month as he dropped the shopkeep. The fog of pain, hunger and strange incompletion, gone.
And realization, awareness, back.
He fell to his knees, the weight of it was near enough to wish for the fog to return. This was not the existence he wanted! How could Lily, anyone, love, let alone tolerate, someone afflicted with such a curse?
Remus, the insipid wolf, was lucky! He only had to endure his curse once a month, and merely be shunned the rest of the time. He even had a palliative potion! This, this would be constant. Look how many he had killed, barely of his own volition! Look what he had become! Drawn to the dark more than he had wanted, dreamed he could ever be… And… the Dark Lord! Snape had never thought that this would be asked of him, done to him! Was this supposed to be a gift? A punishment?
He froze and considered the bodies. Surely his actions would be considered treasonous. Perhaps, perhaps he might be killed for them.
He wasn't sure he would mind such an outcome anymore.
He shoved the thought away. No. He hadn't wanted to die before this, he didn't want to 'die' now. He would tell himself this until he believed it, because he had things to do, to 'live' for. He would tell himself that until he believed it as well.
He regarded the most recent addition to the meat on the floor. The poor idiot of a clerk, his death was assured whether he stayed or left. If he had left and brought help, or raised a ruckus, the Dark Lord's ire would have fallen upon him for the loss of Severus and the hideout. If he stayed, well... Severus was glad he had stayed. It had felt so good when his throat finally wasn't dry anymore. When his veins didn't ache and feel quite so empty.
He could feel the hungry pathways where blood that wasn't his own flowed, but somehow they still felt less crowded than they should be. That slight ache in his gut lingered as well, reminiscent of how he felt when he knew he should eat soon, but not now. He shook his head. If he thought on it too much longer it would be hard to focus. He pushed the feelings from his mind and got to work.
"Reducio Multissimo." The spell flew through his wand and snaked through the air to hit the three corpses, and they all shrank to the size of a paper clip. Like that they were easily secreted away in his robes. If the Dark Lord was looking for corpses, it would not be wise to deprive him of them.
With the evidence cleaned up, Snape floundered. What should he do next? He looked at the wand he was holding. It was Infim's, a short oak wand that felt too heavy in his hand. He wanted his own back, but the last time he saw it, it had been in his Master's hand.
He would have to return to him. To find out where his Lord was he would either have to wait here for someone to check on the missing Infim, or head to someone who would know his Lord's location.
Lucius. He seethed. He still wanted that man's throat between his teeth. He took a breath. No. Lucius was a friend, an asshole, but a friend. Well, ally would be more accurate. He looked to the front of the store and with a flick turned the open sign around and then apparated out.
Pain, excruciating burning, fire. With desperate concentration he disapparated back to the store. He stumbled forward, nearly crying out as his scorched hands touched the counter to brace him up.
He had landed on the doorstep to Malfoy Manor. He had been inside numerous times, was allowed in by their wards, he should have landed inside. Instead, the sun had beat down on him for a half second and his entire body was in ungodly pain. He quickly cast an extinguishing spell to put out the numerous patches of smoking skin and cloth. As soon as the fires were out he began to heal. It wasn't quick, but it was visible. Sunlight apparently healed slowly. He watched the burns on his hands lighten in fascination for a moment before scowling and turning to the windows and the cursed orb in the sky.
Why had he landed outside? He began pacing as he considered the situation. He knew the area intimately, it wouldn't have been a mistake in his apparition. He was certain of that. He was keyed to their wards, unless they put up new ones? Had the Malfoy's put up new wards to protect from his new vampiric state? Snape paused in his pacing.
His new state. Of course. He had to be invited in. Any privately owned building, he would have to be invited in. He cursed. Yet another limitation on his existence! His wand slashed through the air and a shelf filled with odds and ends fell to the ground, cloven in twain.
He'd have to wait for nightfall. He looked at the cuckoo clock. It would only be two hours, he could wait. In fact, he could use the time to clean himself up at his own home. He looked down at himself. His robes were filthy, and torn. His skin was covered in dust and blood. While a wand could easily fix him up, a shower would feel better.
Three hours later he finally stood in front of Malfoy Manor. He was annoyed. None of his usual activities seemed to be as enjoyable. The warmth of the shower didn't soothe his muscles. His fresh clothes were itchy as if he could feel every fiber, unmolested by dirt and grime each thread seemed sharp. Yet… he seemed numb.
Perhaps he would at least last longer if he ever decided to actually risk sex with someone. A small bitter laugh escaped him at that thought, and at the memory of his other attempt at normalcy. He had tried to eat an apple and he had thrown up so violently he thought his stomach was about to vacate the premises. He should have known that such an endeavour was folly.
Still, he had passed the time after that annoyance catching up on news, though it seemed nothing of note had happened besides his group wiping out a Muggle town two days after he had been put in hell. He had searched and searched for any information that might be relevant, anything that might make his Lord less likely to kill him. Nothing. No muggles that were especially worthy of execution, no blood traitors that would be isolated enough to risk abducting, no Order members that could easily be ambushed on vacation. Nothing. So he had left.
Now he stood before Malfoy Manor. The large door in front of him was as ornate and clean as his own door was not. He knocked, and it took but a second for it to open. He could feel a wall of force at the door blocking his entry more than the door ever could.
A small creature stood in the way as well. Snape looked down at it. Its ears drooped and it wrung its hands nervously as it looked up at him.
"Dobby, may I come in? Is your master at home?"
"Master Malfoy is home Sir." Said the elf nervously.
"May I see him?"
"Yes Sir, Dobby shall go get-"
Snape briefly gritted his teeth in annoyance before he verbally intervened. "May I wait inside while you fetch him?"
The house elf looked conflicted. "Dobby is not sure if…if Dobby should let Sir inside in such a state."
Snape raised a brow. "Surely the state of my clothes is not an issue. I may not be finely dressed, but I am clean, and your master has had far more poorly outfitted guests."
"Y-yes Sir but that is not the state Dobby was talking about."
Snape's other brow raised at this comment from the elf. "You can tell?" The question was icy, and calculated; it gave up no information while requesting it in return.
"Y-yes sir."
It was enough, the elf knew about his new state. This would be tricky, he needed to get inside. Malfoy's annoying posturing would not only be unbearable, but he would have no bargaining chips out here. Snape regarded the elf. He knew the creature only vaguely, but he knew Malfoy very well, and he could use that to press his case.
"You know me, do you have orders to not let me in the premises?"
"N-no sir."
"Then it would not do, to be rude to one of your master's friends, would it? Now, may I wait inside?"
The house elf looked around frantically, caught between two options. It paused, and its shoulders slumped. It would be punished either way, they both knew that.
"Yes sir. Sir may wait inside while I fetch the master."
Snape could feel the wall vanish and he stepped quickly inside and the elf closed the door behind him before vanishing.
Snape walked through the foyer, he had no reason to scour the property for Lucius, he would come. He circled the marble floor, his gaze tracing the rich dark oak paneling of the walls. He could amuse himself by looking at the opulence while he waited.
He did not have long to wait. He could hear Lucius' heart beat before he saw the man and turned to greet him. Snape stood straight and proud, wand behind his back; there would be no resemblance between him and the filthy creature Lucius had seen weeks prior. He refused to let there be.
Lucius strode into the room briskly, walking stick held tightly in hand. The house elf scuttled behind him, sporting a new limp. Lucius walked with purpose and caution, heels clicking on the marble floor. His voice betrayed none of the apprehension his fast heartbeat told of.
"Severus. How good to see you. May I ask what you're doing here?"
"I found the food at my previous accommodations to be lacking. So I left." Snape said with a smirk.
The spell left Lucius' wand in a flash, but the time it took to draw it from the stick was more than enough for Snape to throw up a shield. Lucius raised a brow.
"Where did you get a new wand, Severus?" Said Malfoy, surprised, his own wand now fully at the ready.
"Infim was kind enough to supply one; and you don't have to worry, I've already eaten."
Lucius stayed silent. He'd seen how little that mattered.
Severus sighed. "A full three courses. I am fine."
"Then…what are you here for?"
"I seek an audience with our Lord."
"Surely you don't expect him to welcome you with open arms after you left against his orders?" Lucius said with sly amusement.
"He gave me no orders to stay there."
"After you killed Infim?"
Snape sneered at the comment. "I would kill the whelp again if it meant getting out of that wretched place, if it meant the return of my wand Lucius! Also, one would have to be an idiot to think the Dark Lord would kill me after he put so much effort into turning and feeding me. So lower your wand, and tell me where I can find our Lord before I actually give him a reason to kill me this evening!" He finished venomously.
Lucius rolled his eyes derisively but nodded his acquiescence.
"Fine. Follow me." He turned and kicked the house elf as he walked by. The creature squeaked as it fell to the floor.
"You need to train your house elf better, Lucius, or at least give it more clear commands." Noted Snape scornfully as he passed the creature.
"It wouldn't matter how clear my commands were, the miserable creature would still fail. They are wretched beings, and this one should count itself lucky to be under my roof serving me. This way, Severus."
"You're not telling me he is here?" Snape questioned with surprise.
"Of course not, but we have a portkey."
"Hidden I presume?"
"Naturally."
Snape was led down the hall,through the sitting room and then the dining room, down into the dungeons. He gripped his stolen wand tightly as they passed the cells. Lucius might try to curry favor with the Dark Lord by catching and imprisoning him, he had to be wary.
Lucius looked back at him briefly as they walked, and Severus could see his eyes dart to the wand he was holding.
"Nervous are we?"
"Lucius, if you thought you could curry favor by crushing every snail within a mile of this house, you would do it. Ruining my chance for a less painful reunion would be nothing." Drawled Snape.
"Don't be ridiculous." Lucius said smoothly. "I'd have the house elf crush the way."
They turned at the end of the dungeon into a cell and Snape paused.
Lucius ignored him and touched his wand to a block in the ceiling, muttering "portens" as he did so. The wall in the back opened, brick by brick at the word, to reveal an ornate pedestal with an orb on it. The pedestal Was embellished with a snake choking a lion as the back relief, carved in beautiful detail from white marble.
Snape raised a brow at the gauche display but Lucius smiled.
"Do what is expected, and you can hide in plain sight." He pulled at the ear of the lion and it came off.
Snape felt mildly impressed as he took the piece of marble. "Are you not joining me?"
"I'll be along shortly. Now, if you wouldn't mind putting the ear back and holding onto it, I'd prefer it not get chipped."
"I really insist that you come with me." Snape hissed. It would not do to be teleported somewhere inopportune, and not have a bargaining chip, or a meal. His empty hand clenched into a fist momentarily at the thought. Maybe he- He took a breath and refocused his mind.
Lucius sighed but stepped aside for Snape to put the ear back and then touched it himself.
"You've gotten more paranoid as you've aged Snape."
"I learned from association with our allies." With that the portkey activated and they were pulled away.
They landed on slabs of smooth white stone, immaculately cut and put together. Torches lined the hall which ended in a mahogany door.
Lucius adjusted his robes before pointing at the door.
"Through there, the Dark Lord should be right on the other side."
Snape nodded and walked forward. He could hear numerous drumbeats on the other side.
He would either die tonight, or be punished severely… but eventually have his wand returned to him. The Dark Lord had said he wanted a spy, him being stuck in that dusty store room was not conducive to that goal, nor was depriving him of his wand. He took an unneeded breath, prepared his shields, schooled his face into an expression of obeisance, gripped the handle...
And opened the door.
"Ah, Severus. I had hoped you would grace us with your presence, but I had not expected you so soon." Voldemort sat atop a throne of black and white marble, the statue of the person who had been there reduced to dust on the floor by its side. The Dark Lord wore black robes trimmed with silver and gold. His face was clean and handsome, but hard. The smile that grew on his lips at the sight of his new spy was not kind, nor did it reach his eyes.
Behind him were scores of motionless people, stood upright against the wall in awkward, unnatural positions. Frozen in place, awake but unable to move the unwilling sentinels watched Snape enter.
Columns reached for the ceiling on either side and away into the distance on the right. This building was a sepulcher, and it was huge. The ossuary on the right had been pushed together with magic to form tables lit by candles. On either side of these false tables a few Death Eaters sat, papers and food covering the resting places of no doubt great wizards. They had all looked up from their activities as he entered.
Snape bent down on one knee and lowered his head.
"My Lord. My deepest apologies for breaking out, I was not in my right mind."
"Your apology is not accepted. Crucio."
The pain was unimaginable, but familiar. His body convulsed as every iota of his being seemed on fire. The pain went on forever as every muscle tensed into rock until… it vanished.
Snape lay gasping on the floor, but quieted his panting as his Lord spoke.
"However, I wanted you to leave. If you could not, you would not have been worthy of your position as my spy. Just surviving until you found sanity again would have earned you your life, but such a great disappointment would have demoted you to merely disposing of my enemies. So, I am glad to see you are here." The Dark Lord gave his spy a once over and smirked. "…I would return your wand but I see you have another's?"
"Infim's my lord. I-"
His Lord waved his hand dismissively. "He was sent to feed you because he had failed me. To escape, you had to kill him, and so in death he at least served me well. Did he, Severus?"
"He…he did my Lord." Said Snape slightly uncomfortable.
"Very good. Now, we had some fun while you were away, as you've no doubt noticed." Voldemort waved his hand to the wall behind him. "Lucius greatly enjoyed himself, didn't you Lucius?"
"My Lord, it was truly a pleasurable day. I am happy to have served you." Lucius stepped out from the doorway where he had been waiting and bowed deeply to the Dark Lord before sitting down at the 'table' nearby.
"Yes, that little town is no more, although many of its inhabitants remain. They were for you, Severus. My new spy required sustenance after all. Now that you are out and have proven yourself tonight, I believe you deserve a reward."
Snape looked at the wall of people, there were too many to count quickly. Some lay on top of others, limbs and bodies obscuring their numbers, it was impossible to tell how many there were.
"All…of them my Lord, were for me? If so, I am honored beyond words."
His Lord ignored the verbal genuflecting and continued his explanation. "I expected you to be there for quite a while. Our allies also needed some toys in the meantime. We sent the blood traitors first, but they ran out. Now, it's just the filthy muggles left. But their bodies will work for my needs just as well."
At this Severus saw a chance to make some ground. "I have brought you some bodies, my lord."
"Show me."
Snape stood and withdrew the small corpses from his pocket. He held them in his hand for a moment, then tossed them on the ground.
"Engorgio." They grew to their original size and Snape backed away, head lowered. "I had hoped this would please you."
"I see, and perhaps make me forgive your escape?"
Snape could feel his mind being probed, and pushed the recent memory of his wish not to displease his lord to the fore, slowly pulling all other emotional turmoil to the back of his mind and hiding it under a rug of fear.
"No my lord, I just thought it wise to not deprive you of something I knew you sought."
"You knew I sought bodies? How?"
"Even in my addled state I endeavored to gather information, and overheard Lucius mention it to Infim. I once again apologize for the disposal of these two when I did not know your wishes." Snape tensed, preparing for another Crucio, but it did not come.
"The shopkeep was insignificant, a man with dirty blood. I'm surprised you didn't taste it?"
Snape tensed, he couldn't lie outright and say the man tasted horrid, but his lord, and the others who put so much stock in blood, would expect it. He could bend the truth though.
"He tasted of musty grapes my Lord. A failed attempt at wine. Just as he was a failure in life, he failed in death as well."
There were chuckles from the side and a small nod from his Lord.
"I cannot offer you finer quality, for it would be travesty to spill pure blood without need. I can, however, offer you quantity. As much as you like. You may have your wand to play with them first, if you desire."
Snape looked once again at the people behind his Lord. So much. So much food, all for him. His hand opened and closed and his gums itched at the thought. He took a breath, this would take some getting used to. But perhaps, perhaps another night. Right now…
"You have my humblest thanks, my Lord."
Severus awoke with a start. Chains on his wrists and ankles quickly reminded him of where he was. He frowned as he thought upon his dream. It had been quite some time since he had been graced with that particular 'dream'. That was the night he had learned that his hunger never Truly went away, no matter how much he ate. He sat up and hung his head, resting his face in his hands.
"Bad dream Severus?"
He looked up at McGonagall through his hair. She sat in the chair reading, seemingly not a care in the world. He despised her for it, for this repose that was so in contrast with his duress. He could, he would, break that impermanent calm and give her something to think about.
"I do not dream often any more Minerva, I just relive memories."
"Bad memory then?" She said unconcernedly as she turned a page.
Snape huffed in annoyance at her thoughtless dismissal of his pain. "Yes, it was one of the best nights of my life."
At this she looked up and adjusted her glasses. "I find that statement to be a tad contradictory, Severus. How could it be a bad memory if it was one of the best nights of your life?"
Snape huffed out a single derisive laugh as his lip curled in amusement. "Then you lack imagination. There was food, Minerva. A lot of food. And I pray to Merlin I never eat that much in one night again."
McGonagall looked at Snape, her mouth curled down in distaste while her brow furrowed in curiosity. "How many?"
"I. Stopped. Counting. After. Twenty." Ire dripped from his every word.
Minerva looked aghast.
"Severus! How- Why?"
"It was a 'gift' from my Master. If I had stopped before he thought I had enjoyed it, or I stopped before he was finished enjoying it, well… I can't imagine being fed on by a vampire under Imperio and Cruciatus would have been pleasant."
McGonagall looked at him with disgust and pity. Snape wanted to tear the expression off her face, but it vanished quickly. She was not one for such things, perhaps the pity wasn't even for him.
"Well then, I should hope you find ways to curb your now increased appetite."
"It was my first night free after… I became this. I was hungry, but I soon learned that I did not have an appetite. Appetite implies that you can be sated. I cannot be, my hunger can only be curtailed."
McGonagall looked at Snape, narrow eyed behind her wire rimmed glasses as she turned a page, but said nothing.
Snpe sighed inwardly at the continuous ache in his gut and veins, it was remarkably reminiscent of that day. He pondered his options as she went back to her book.
McGonagall could have just as easily left him alone in here to… detox. Of course she would have to contend with a starving vampire afterward… As he looked at the cat reading across the room a frown crossed his face. He was not happy with this situation. He knew full well he was acting out of addiction, of crazed wants born from hunger. That slight red mist that tinged the edges of his thoughts when he let himself dwell upon his wants overlong. He was not… himself.
And for the moment he was content with that. He did not feel so much remorse, so much emptiness, so much guilt, in this state. He was fully aware that he would feel the repercussions two fold when his humanity reasserted itself, but he would endure, he always did. But right now, right here, in this fever dream which was so reminiscent of, and brought on partially by, that red fog that laid upon his mind, he could be someone else. Someone who did not have to care so much, someone who was content to let what happened happen. Either his ally would succeed and he would be cured and apologize profusely before going back to the painful problem of the lack of food, or he would succeed and hopefully have stores of blood to drink upon.
Unless of course, the addiction, like so many other more addictions, grew. If his tolerance increased, he would eventually drain her. What that would lead to… Well, he was content to worry about that after the moment he failed to curb his appetite. It would be a glorious moment after all.
The red mist was there, just starting to creep in as the metaphorical sun set on his sanity and quickly fading moral compass. His addiction was causing it to creep up faster, he could feel it. The potion's disaster and his resultant new age made it more present, harder to resist. His occlumency shields had been… hard to maintain… and were failing slowly.
Still, he had perused the possible outcomes, and none were too displeasing.
So he laid in bed. And he planned. And he decided to play the waiting game, for he did not want this small false world to end so soon.
The hours passed with agonizing slowness.
He sat, he thought, he watched his friend grade papers. He read. He paced. He talked about the various students. His shields faded.
He did not eat. He did not sleep.
A few days passed. He sat. He thought. He read. He watched. The red mist creeped in.
He did not eat. He did not sleep. He did not talk.
And a few days passed.
Finally McGonagall had had enough.
"Severus. What do you hope to gain from this?! What is this?! Why are you starving yourself?"
Severus' eyes bored into the wizened witch's. He had another plan.
"A hunger strike."
McGonagall snorted. "That's preposterous. What could you hope to gain from that? You are merely making the removal of this addiction more uncomfortable for yourself by refusing food. You are still inching ever toward my goal. What is it you hope to accomplish?"
"Freedom perhaps. Either you will acquiesce to my demands or I will go mad with hunger."
McGonagall stared. "And what exactly are your demands?"
"Nothing right now, perhaps a new book. I finished the last one."
McGonagall rolled her eyes but from a bag near her bed withdrew a book and a copy of the daily prophet which she threw to her captive.
Snape nodded thanks and began to read.
And the days passed. And he read. And he paced. He did not eat. He did not sleep. He did not talk. He did not breathe. He felt the addiction loosen its claws slightly, but a mere two and a half weeks would not alleviate two months worth of want apparently. The red mist still urged him toward his plans. Weighed down his mind with whispers of other wonderful- …horrible options which he pushed away.
A week and a half later a pitcher was placed before him, filled to the brim.
Severus raised a brow from behind his trembling book. He had grown so weak that it was hard for him to move, to even hold up a book. His hands twitched slightly with the effort.
It had been nearly two weeks since he'd had any sustenance. But he was holding out. In reality, he was starving. Though his weakness was not fully real though. The shaking was more a sign of the constant exertion of his will, resisting the urge to attack, to not reach for food.
So looking at the pitcher before him it was not hard to feign weakness, hungry as he was and as much effort as he was exerting to stifle his need to pick up the pitcher and drain it dry.
"And what pray tell is this?"
"Food. Eat." Said Minerva sternly. "You look so gaunt your students would barely recognize you."
It was true. His skin was no longer sallow but near white. His hair was no longer greasy but thin and wiry. His cheekbones had always been prominent, but now what little fat was below them had fled to leave the edges of the bones naked. He very much looked like what he was, undead.
"No. Thank you." The words echoed slightly as he stared stonily back down at his book.
Minerva sighed and scowled.
"Severus, don't make me put this in your stomach magically. Because I will."
The vampire looked at the witch with narrowed eyes. "You wouldn't."
"Severus, you have no idea what I will do to get you through this." She snapped.
Snape sighed this time.
"You barely have the energy to stand. Please. Eat something." She said in an almost pleading voice.
Snape grimaced, but set the book down. "May I at least have Some semblance of normalcy and request a goblet?"
The Transfigurations Professor nodded and levitated a goblet towards the starving vampire.
Snape grabbed for it, but it fell to the floor slipping through his shaking hands to roll away.
McGonagall pursed her lips in annoyance and levitated it back over to him once again, this time setting it on the ground.
Nodding his thanks Severus picked up the pitcher; it shook violently as he tried to pour, spilling red everywhere.
"For heaven's sake Severus let-"
"No! You have so Kindly offered to pour food directly into my stomach, I can do this myself."
Minerva sighed and went back to grading papers and tests, the never ending plight of a professor.
Snape meanwhile slowly brought the cup up to his lips, the shaking stopping briefly as he drank. Hagrid, he could faintly taste the pine.
When finished he went to set the goblet down, but the shaking started again and it dropped to the ground with a reverberating clang and rolled out of reach again. Minerva levitated the cup over to him for a second time, but Snape was still unable to grasp the floating object, hands shaking too much. It was once again set on the floor. Snape groaned wearily and leaned back on the wall his bed was next to, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I will try again in an hour. I will probably feel better by then."
He didn't. The shaking was worse now that he'd had a taste, and half the liquid in the cup spilled on the floor on the way to his mouth.
"Severus really. Let me help."
Snape scowled his usual scowl, but nodded and the goblet was levitated towards his mouth. It was tipped up and the blood poured out, fast. Too fast. The liquid overflowed and dribbled down his chin. He could not swallow quickly enough. He spluttered and blood spewed out, staining his clothes.
Minerva stared. "Am I really going to have to hold the cup for you? Like a child?"
Severus scowled further. "I refuse."
"It's either that or-"
"Fine. But only because I utterly despise having food bypass my throat. It never... sits well with me."
Minerva rolled her eyes but levitated the pitcher and goblet, pouring the last bit of blood, before grabbing the cup and bringing it over. With a flick of her wrist the chains pulled tight against the wall and Severus scowled.
"You really think I-"
"Yes. You're a mean, crafty man Severus Snape. I put nothing past you. Now drink."
Hands held behind him Snape leaned forward towards the cup and sipped slowly. He ignored the annoyed gaze and instead situated his hands behind his back while he drank.
Soon enough the goblet was empty. Snape sighed, pulling against the taut chains and bracing his feet on the ground. The only reason his last plan hadn't worked was because she had been too far away. She wasn't now. However, she had been careful to check the wall for weaknesses every day, so that was no longer an option.
There were other things that he could break however. This plan had yet to fail when executed properly, it worked quite well with Infim after all, as his 'dream' had reminded him. He paused for a moment, savoring his upcoming success.
"I do believe I will regret this after the fact, but at the moment I find myself incapable."
"I know Severus, but we will ge-"
The lunge forward was sudden, and the cracking sound was audible as bones broke. He was free. His hands were broken, but free of their iron prison, and healing quickly thanks to his meal.
Snape pushed the witch against the table and the wand fell from her grasp as his hip slammed into that hand. The gasp of pain grew into a scream as arms wrapped around her, pinning her hands to her sides.
There was no preamble, no flaunting or bragging, just quick decisive action, and blood. Ecstasy rippled through him as his teeth breached the skin of her neck and that maddening drumbeat finally reverberated in his mouth and not his ears.
It was everything he'd hoped for, and more. He hadn't killed anyone since his Death Eater years, not like this anyway. He'd put Ivan to sleep after the barest of sips, following Dumbledore's orders to mitigate excess suffering. This however, this was bliss, and that last drop was always the best.
Snape was sorely tempted to go for that last drop now.
His prey struggled against his chest, an attempt at wandless magic failing as he interrupted her concentration by biting down harder. He was rewarded with a pained gasp and he felt a predatory shiver of satisfaction run down his spine. His hands had healed with his meal and they held onto his meal's arms, squeezing and holding her in place.
He drank quickly, barely tasting it on his tongue as he swallowed and gulped greedily. Just feeling that drumbeat against his teeth, that itching need in his veins lessening, made this worth it.
"Severus… stop."
Snape paused, remembering who his meal was, and unsheathed his teeth from her neck. He straightened and looked down at his fellow professor. She looked tired, haggard and pale; but defiant, pleading with him to remember who he was. He remembered, he did not care.
He licked the blood from his lips and held still a moment, closing his eyes and feeling the magic and blood fill him. Warm him.
Minerva struggled suddenly, attempting to rip free, but to no avail. "Severus, stop. You're better than this."
Snape looked down and sneered. "Everyone thinks they know me. Why I'm here, what I want. And yet, nobody has ever asked… Except my 'masters'. I doubt either of them cared about my answer except in how they could use it. I am tired of working towards others' plans. Tonight, for the past few weeks, I have worked towards my own. Now, I am going to savor its success. No, I am not 'better than this, not right now. Right now, I have won against the chess master and I am collecting on your bet."
"And which one of your plans will you be following through with?" The question was a whisper, an attempt at divining her fate in hopes she could somehow prevent it.
Snape paused as he leaned back in and Minerva looked up at him, ready to fight. He could hear her drum beat fast, smell the blood he'd been longing for, needed, for so long. What he'd worked so hard for was finally in his hands.
"Hopefully, the best one." And he sunk his fangs into her warm flesh once more. He nursed the wound now; slowly, much more patient now that he had some in his veins. No longer starving, savoring the tingle of magic, the memory of scrolls and mice, the hints of black tea.
Minerva still struggled, any pleasure or pain completely ignored; she was a professional after all.
He ignored her in kind; revenge for all the slights and insults and unwanted sensations she had inflicted on him over the past month, flowing over his tongue. But it wasn't enough, he wanted it all. He wanted to drink the last drop, to feel her drum slow, to see her skin slip toward ashen grey. He sought that brief satisfaction at the end as she fell.
However he wouldn't, couldn't rid the world of this woman. She was too valuable to the Order, the school, and him. There were other things he could do though.
Her struggles slowed soon, her heartbeat following shortly after. Snape took a deep pull as if finishing a cigar and was about to let go when–
"What would Lily think, Severus?"
His teeth clamped down in rage and McGonagall screamed as the slightest bit of flesh was torn from her neck and spat upon the ground.
"How Dare You! How dare you speak of her to me!" He roared, his anger white and hot, his eyes blazing red. "You know nothing of what she meant to me, merely looking on as our friendship died. Do not ask me what she would think! I know what she thought! I'm a monster! I've been a monster since before I was a Death Eater, before blood that wasn't mine filled my veins, before this night. What do I think she would think of me? She'd think I'm doing what a monster does." He snarled as Minerva swayed back and forth; tired, light headed, but still fighting.
"But what would she want you to do, Severus? Be a monster, or be -"
"Don't try to distract me with her to save your own skin! She is gone. Don't you dare tarnish her memory by using her in that way! In fact you'll never do so again. You'll never speak of what happened here to anybody." The power behind his words weighed her down as much as his hands on her shoulders. Snape pushed the swaying professor into the chair she had sat in for nearly every evening the past few weeks. She was too weak to fight against the pressure keeping her in place, but pulled at the hand providing it anyway. Her attempts were ignored.
"You're… lying to yourself Severus."
Snape bit his hand and moved his other arm under his old ally's chin. He pulled up, forcing her to look at him but keeping her pinned down as well.
Blood welled in his fist and he held it above her head, drops of red pooling tauntingly above her, ready to break and fall at the whim of gravity.
"So, this one. How far are you going to take it?"
Snape smiled, a cruel sneer, and squeezed her throat in response to the question, causing her to gasp for air. Her jaw moved up and down in an attempt to draw in oxygen, her lips parting to reveal perfect teeth… and a throat waiting for his blood.
"As far-"
There was a click behind them and Snape started to turn.
"Somnus." A voice boomed, echoing across the room.
And as a single ruby drop fell downward toward the open mouth, Snape once again knew no more.