(I'm sorry it's a day late. Work this weekend took it out of me and recovery is taking far longer than I expected. Conventions take it out of you. As always, reviews let me know if people like the direction the story is going, think character portrayals are accurate, and give me hope to continue writing.)

McGonagall fell into darkness. There was nothing there. She was blind. Snape knew exactly what to show her first; the 'nightmare' she had initially dismissed.

"Have another Severus." Snape felt as the voice sent shivers up both their spines. She would know that voice. He Who Must Not Be Named.

"Thank you, my lord." As Snape's voice resonated, vision and colors flooded her mind, or rather his. The white and black marble walls of the sepulcher were clean and shone red reflections of dancing torchlight. There was a thud as he dropped something. Snape looked down unconcernedly, the muggle with white hair was dead, empty. The taste of caramel and the memory of a sunset lingered on their tongue. He looked to his left.

Bodies. Uncountable with their twisted limbs jutting out of haphazardly strewn piles. All of them, theirs. But still… That mild aching in his stomach was there. Why!? And his veins, they knew they were full, they could see the red lines underneath his skin. Yet they felt empty. It wasn't enough.

They turned his head to the right. Dozens more. People lay stacked like dolls atop each other, a cacophony of drums. Maybe one more, maybe one more would make this feeling go away? It's not like they could stop, they told themselves, they had been given an order. Maybe the Dark Lord knew something they did not. Maybe he knew that one more would finally make it stop.

They reached for the muggle woman with tan skin and purple hair. Her face was tear streaked even though her eyes couldn't move. How would she taste? She smelled like plantains and sea salt. One more. One more exquisite meal. Maybe it would stop then. One more. An even fifty.

The world shattered as McGonagall was pushed out of the memory into darkness. Snape only gave her a brief moment to think. He heard the solitary thought that ran through her head, the one he was forcing her to share with him. He heard her call him a liar. He had counted every single one.

She, they, were once again thrust into a scene, and pain shot through her. She almost fell and dropped her wand as the images formed before her. He sneered, this pain was nothing.

Everything hurt. Burned. Yet, he walked upright as if nothing was wrong. It was a normal day after all. The pain was just hunger, starvation setting in. He had only twenty more days till his first year as a teacher at Hogwarts started. If he didn't find a solution by then, surely they'd have failed… and Dumbledore would turn them over to the Aurors. Maybe if he tried ginkgo biloba to thin the blood further and then added iron to increase the potency. They stiffened as Sinistra passed by. The drum. It meant food, relief from the pain. Sweet blood. She smelled of honeysuckle and he immediately wanted to reach out and-

They nodded brusquely and hurried on. They could hear a huff from behind them at their perceived rudeness. Better to be thought rude than stay and endure that enticing heartbeat, or worse, stay and hear it stop.

The scene before her was flung to the side as she was thrust into a new one. He heard her body relax now that the pain was gone. He laughed. Relief would be so much worse for her.

The form before him on the floor was small. And tiny. His hair was short, and messy, as wild as the freckles on his face as the boy looked up at the Professor. A face that was still damp with tears. The smell of blood was strong in the air, right in front of him. The arm he held was bleeding.

No… no. He shouldn't. But if he didn't… If he didn't take advantage of this and weeks went by... If he took just the slightest bit now it would mean he wouldn't go mad later.

Snape felt McGonagall's horror as he shook their head and leaned down. This was the one thing she didn't wish to see, so it was one of the ones she should, bet or not.

Slowly he licked the wound once, the blood salty in his mouth and warm in his throat, the metallic taste subtlety mixing with the faintest hint of clover. It felt so good, and McGonagall decidedly did not like it. She attempted to force aside the memory and look at a new one, but it did not budge. Snape was far too good an occlumens for her to control anything at all. Slowly he began to pull at the wound, lightly at first, and then harder. He was hungry, so hungry. It was overwhelming, all encompassing. Soon they were holding the boy in his lap, sucking vehemently on the wound. Relief filled them, the aching in his stomach lessened. A small moan brought them back from their meal, looking down they saw that the boy was pale, too pale.

The memory flickered and nearly faded as McGonagall almost dropped the spell. She had almost gone to go help the boy, despite this being the past, despite knowing she had seen the boy yesterday no worse for wear. Snape frowned mentally, he had almost gotten her to drop it. Perhaps if he continued.

Cursing, Snape used one piece of the summoned cloth to clean his spit from the wound and then he sanitized it with his wand before bandaging it. Looking around he saw the ground and the suit of armor covered in blood the boy had shed before he got there. They paused, then gritted his teeth.

"Accio blood." The blood rose from the ground and the sword the boy had cut himself on rushed towards Snape. After swallowing they paused, disgusted, sated, then picked up the boy and began marching to the infirmary. About halfway there the boy woke.

"What happened, where are we going?" The boy mumbled weakly, much to their dismay. Snape ignored the mild guilt that sat in his gut alongside his meal. It was this, or possibly kill someone in a week. The lesser of two evils as a man he knew he would comment. A few more moments though…

The memory flashed and flickered as it jumped through time, showing Snape's step falter once as they passed the corridors to the dungeons. As red thoughts pervaded his mind and he pushed them away.

Time passed again and Snape was now knocking on the door to the infirmary, which took more willpower, but he did it nonetheless. Opening the door Poppy gasped, eyes wide.

Minerva was pulled forward as Poppy tried to take the boy and they stumbled into another memory, no time to think.

Snape was staring at a vial in his hand. He took a sip. His entire body tingled and that slight itch in his veins lessened. He sighed. There was only mild hunger now, and they were used to that. Still, it tasted of mice and tea, and somehow that wasn't a bad combination. It was a wholly different experience than drinking from a person that he had shown McGonagall moments prior. It was muted, but still the flavor was stronger than that of a child. He looked at the vial and it took quite a bit of their willpower to put the stopper in. They set the vial down and went to leave. As soon as they did, the itching started again. They ignored it as they walked toward a wall and suddenly everything was black.

The memory skipped forward, giving her a brief reprieve as Snape hid something he did not want her to see. He felt her amusement at him hiding the doors he thought no one knew of. She couldn't use them, but she knew about them. Slughorn wasn't quite so private after all.

Snape could feel the thoughts slightly as she watched through his eyes. Practicing legilimency while you were occluding was a dangerous feat. It was easier to do in such a situation, but also meant your occluding could be undone, manipulated.

Snape only felt comfortable with it because of how inexperienced McGonagall was with this particular art, and because her trying anything else might break her concentration allowing him to win the bet. He pushed forward and moved to the next scene, making note to see if he could move the doors to the secret passageways.

They reappeared in his potions classroom. The students were preparing a pepper up potion. They walked down the center and looked at one particularly bad one. It was vanished with a sneer. The girl's heart raced and they ignored it. They ignored every one of the heartbeats around them. They pushed them down, they had only grown louder since the incident. They needed to think about something else, but the usual ponderings of tests and possible detentions weren't working.

The vial of blood. That. Yes that.

The noise around them lessened, suddenly less tempting. The vial was what they wanted. If they could make it through another day they could have a sip. The itching feeling in their veins grew. They knew it would only get worse. But it was this, or a student. They would choose this every time. Even if it meant they got addicted, which they knew they already were.

He thrust her from the memory, she tumbled through darkness and her own guilt at being part of this pain. Good. Snape had another ace up his sleeve to show her. He set up the next memory.

Snape was looking at her. He stood at the entrance of the grand hall, looking 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.

How could he get more? He could ask, but it would just be a vial. He wanted more. Snape started walking forward. Eyes looked at him, he was never late, he was always early or didn't come. So them 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. They wanted, needed more. Another vial. Could they get more? How? They glanced at a student that was animatedly describing something. Minerva cared for their well-being, he did too. Did she know that? He could trade one for her, but if she declined he'd have to… it might be worth it. It- no. No. A vial. They needed a vial. They walked more quickly up to their seat. They nodded acknowledgement as they passed by their colleagues and sat next to their meal. No, benefactor. Colleague. Minerva.

They pushed aside all other food on the plates before them except for the nearly raw bacon that appeared in a heap as he sat down. It was all he could stomach recently. Nearly raw, if not raw, meat. They heard the drum as he chewed but pushed it out of their head.

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

McGonagall from the past looked at Snape surprised. It would surely be surreal seeing her own face through someone else's eyes and he could tell the Minerva of the present felt oddly more like an intruder than she had in any of the other memories.

"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's stomach sunk as they fell through the floor and into the next scene. Snape wanted it to be disconcerting seeing herself, feeling thoughts of her as food. He instead got the feeling that she was comforted to know with certainty that he cared for the students as well. Snape was determined to force her out. This struggle was private, it had to be. If it couldn't be, he'd make sure it was horrifying. She'd leave him alone then, stop prying. He couldn't have people he cared for. The ease with which Mr. Lee manipulated him concerning Hagrid was disconcerting. If it came down to getting a step closer to destroying Voldemort and watching someone die, there had to be no hesitation, no visible remorse. And he'd prefer if there wasn't excessive remorse haunting him either, even if it was an impossibility.

He opened their eyes to the new memory.

Everything faded to black, and stayed quite dark for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the dark halls quickly.

Torchlight filled their vision and then vanished. Then reappeared. Snape stalked through the halls. He had decided to go through with it. If she died, so be it. Both of them would prefer that to a student, or another teacher, or Dumbledore. She could afford to be lost. Yes. He had gone over this numerous times and he was sure this was the right choice. She was the only one who might be able to stand up to him and win.

If she won, he'd be cured and clear of mind enough to go look for food elsewhere and not expose himself. If she lost, they'd have food here and be clear of mind enough to look for food elsewhere and then wean themselves off over the summer, if at all. If they truly failed and she died, well it'd be glorious for a brief moment. No. No, they wouldn't let that happen. But if it did, oh if it did. They paused their walk a moment and fantasized. The warmth, the heartbeat in their throat, slowly fading. Comfort, that false feeling of life and momentary fullness. It had been so long. So long since he'd had a full meal from a vein. They could have that right now, all the small drumbeats-

No. He scowled. They started walking again. They needed one more night of practice. Then they would either succeed, or fail and this damned red fog that made them forget that students weren't food would at least be contained somewhere. In the meantime, no more daydreams, they just made the itching and pulling worse when they were over.

They continued to stalk down the corridor, focused on finishing their rounds before heading back down. They would endure the drums, they had to.

Snape felt Minerva's discomfort and confusion about this experience, but had a feeling she was starting to understand why this had happened. He listened in on her thought process. She understood that he was constantly parched, if not dying of thirst, all the while surrounded by sweet spring water. She was also right that it'd be enough to drive the most stalwart man insane. There was a reason there weren't many turned vampires. The fact that he'd survived for years with no problem was a testament to his willpower and occlumency skills. The fact that he had done so without actually drinking blood frequently… Well, she was wrong about that. It wasn't 'not frequently' so much as 'not ever'. He had had one meal in nearly eight or so years, one.

He listened back in. She was pondering the result of the accident. It had shattered his routine and all his coping mechanisms had taken quite the blow, and then the addiction on top of that. It seemed the hungrier he got, the more he had to fight the urge to drink, just like anyone who was thirsty with a glass of water in front of them. The difference was that for him, darker urges accompanied and grew alongside his hunger making it ever harder to fight.

Snape sighed inwardly, she had finally gotten it. At least there was one positive from this whole mortifying ordeal. If he could make her lose the bet, that would be another. Perhaps he could shock her into dropping the spell. Still, he was not sure if he should be relieved or mortified by the whole situation. He would ponder that later.

Darkness fell and stayed. McGonagall could tell this was different, the darkness was part of the memory. Feelings flooded her instead of visions.

His eyes were closed. Ecstasy. Sweet relief as that drumbeat finally reverberated in his mouth and not his ears. Finally, what he'd wanted for the past few months was at hand. The itching pulling need was gone, and scrolls and tea and the memory of mice running away filled his mouth. The tastes he had shown McGonagall from before, the vial, the child, were pale in comparison to this. His potion paled in comparison even more, at least that was what his thoughts said. The feel of a heartbeat in his mouth, he could almost pretend it was his. He opened his eyes and McGonagall saw herself. Feel her flesh and blood in his mouth.

The spell nearly fell once more but after the image flickered it held steady. Snape scowled. He'd have to try harder. He dove back in, remembering the feelings, pushing them forward.

Blood flowed, rich and warm. The flavors impossibly different from the normal taste of copper mortals knew. It had depth, and feeling, and life. They could feel it hit their stomach, moving to fill each empty vein. Life. Soothing the itch like a balm. Filling emptiness, whispering of company and a brief reprise from eternal solitude.

It made Minerva decidedly uncomfortable. The problem was, she had no way to tell time. If it had been a minute, or fifteen seconds, or an hour. There was no way of knowing. Snape sneered at the thought and her determination. There were other things he could throw at her. The vision faded and she was whisked away to another time.

The itching aching feeling returned as a new scene spread before her. The walls were unadorned here. Snape paced. There was a pull in his gut, his chest, as McGonagall moved throughout the castle. The scene flickered, showing time in that disjointed way memory does when it doesn't recall each moment because they were all too similar. She could tell hours passed, or maybe a day or two. And all they did was follow the pull that told them where their meal was. Circling around the room in an endless shuffle. The itching and pulling only got worse until once again everything sped up as time passed.

Fatigue, irritation, hunger, need. It was so intense, and on top of that his entire body burned. He needed the cat's blood. He stalked the perimeter. He idly scratched at the stones where the door was. He twitched as the woman changed direction and spun in place to walk with her. They could tell exactly how far away she was. She was heading down to the infirmary, now she was turning into it. Snape stood and faced the wall.

There was nothing else to do except follow her footsteps or meditate. They were tired of meditating. They punched the wall lightly in frustration and their fist went in an inch. They withdrew his hand and punched again but the wall reformed as they withdrew his fist this time. They sneered in annoyance and returned to pacing, there was nothing else to do.

The scene faded to morph into a scene of what should be sleep. The memory faltered as Minerva nearly dropped her wand from the shared memory of such complete exhaustion. Snape felt as she took a breath in the land of the present and steeled herself.

Snape lay on the floor and…that was it. Atop a pile of books, too weak, too hungry, too empty to do anything. He was so hungry, but it felt pure, there was no addiction here. It was just…all encompassing emptiness and the red fog moving in. He could barely think he was so exhausted and famished. It felt as if they had been crawling through a desert for months. No water, no shelter, no end. They tried to lift a finger, they couldn't. It wasn't about willpower, or need, or want. There was just no energy to manage it. There was nothing to do, and there was nothing they could do. They closed their eyes and let his mind wander through memories of better times. They knew if this continued, he would waste away, stay frozen and locked in his own mind fading in and out of consciousness until someone poured red sanguine life into him.

Snape sneered as the present Minerva swayed, determinedly holding onto her wand. He had one last memory he was willing to share, one that would make her drop the spell. He had twenty seconds left, plenty of time. He pushed them into it, Speeding through time.

Ozone. He was so tired only seconds ago but now. Energy filled him. He fell through the center of an endless pattern of stars. Glorious eternity. Lemon-

The spell ended abruptly as Minerva was forcefully ejected from Snape's mind as an intense feeling of present need invaded the memory.

She fell back, shaking her head. Snape didn't notice her state, her disorientation. He was looking back and forth, urgency in his gaze.

"Severus. Are…are you quite alright?"

He didn't respond.

"Are… Are you hungry?"

At that he paused and looked at the woman who was bracing herself on the chair.

"You should understand the answer now. That answer will never change unless you ask me while I'm in the middle of a meal. In which case, I would highly suggest leaving."

"Then what is wrong?"

He sneered. "I was going chronologically, if you couldn't tell. Next was something I shouldn't think on too much. In fact, I believe I should leave." He said as he stalked toward the door.

"Severus Snape, don't you dare run away from this again." She snapped.

At the comment Snape whirled and looked the woman straight in the eye, fury etched in every line of his face. Minerva took a step back at the look her former student was giving her.

"I am NOT running. I do not Run! I am attempting to distance myself from temptation that grew exponentially with that damn potion! What do you think will happen the worse it gets? The more I lose myself? I have not even shown you what I've discovered since then!" He looked at the ceiling briefly then turned his hard gaze back to her with a snap of his neck. He had no doubt he'd dream of hunting mice through a library if he attacked now.

Minerva saw something in his eyes evidently for she stood up straight and gripped her wand. "Severus. What did you learn?"

He looked the witch in the eyes at the question. "I can dream, Minerva, but only when I relax during a superfluous meal."

The woman across from him snorted. "Severus. I don't think I've seen you relax even when you came to Hogwarts as a student."

"Exactly," he hissed, "it makes it very tempting. It's what almost killed our resident half giant. If I drained you dry-" Snape was interrupted by a decidedly annoyed professor.

The tone that filled the room was one she used with students when they were being told off. It was the tone mothers and female teachers somehow mastered that made everyone else curl into themselves in shame. "Mr. Severus Snape, you can attempt to disgust me, scare me, and push me away all you want. It will not work! How many students do you think have attempted that on me over the years in some convoluted grab for privacy so they can hide things they are ashamed of! Grow! Up! Accept that I care about your well-being and get over yourself!"

Snape flinched at the accusations and admittance of care but hid the movement by turning and heading towards his bathroom.

"I'd very much like to obtain my medallions and reflection lotion and leave."

"And we'd all very much like you to stay where we can keep an eye on you." McGonagall countered.

Snape huffed as he opened the door to the bathroom and grabbed the bottle of reflection lotion.

Minerva reached into her robes and withdrew a vial filled with red. "I really didn't want to use this."

As she started to push the cork up with her thumb Snape could smell it. It was just the faintest hint, but it struck him through the gut like an arrow.

Ozone.

He felt the slightest itch underneath the skin of his left hand. Then there was a tug in his stomach as if the arrow that had embedded itself there was being pulled back by a rope. He stopped in his tracks and turned, his voice a very dangerous whisper.

"Minerva. Put that away now."

McGonagall paused and looked at him. "So you'll come see the headmaster?"

"That would be even worse!" Snape spat out.

She pushed the cork up even more. Ozone filled the room and the itching feeling spread.

"Really?"

"Minerva-"

"Catch."

Snape's hand shot out to catch the vial as it arched through the air. When he did he stood stock still and stared at it. For three long seconds he stared at it before bringing it close. He set the reflection lotion down with a clink. His next comment was barely audible as he looked at the vial.

"You have no idea what you've done. I doubt there is enough somnem sanguine in the world to make me sleep after drinking this."

"Then it's a good thing there is none in it."

Snape looked at the vial, then at McGonagall, then at the door. His whole body itched now.

"Don't even try." Said Minerva with her wand raised slightly.

"I am far faster than you."

"Perhaps, but speed isn't everything." Said the witch as she raised a brow.

Snape scowled and returned his attention to the vial. He tried to push the cork down with his thumb to stop the smell of ozone leaking into the room. He couldn't; his thumb was on the cork but he couldn't push it down. Try as he might his thumb stayed firmly on the top and no more. He scowled at it, refusing to look at the witch in front of him.

"Damn you. Damn you for making me doubt my own willpower. Damn you for tempting me with this. Damn you for-"

"Just drink it, Severus."

Snape ceased his mental agonizing at that comment. Apparently he had leverage. What should he use it for?

"Where are my medallions?"

"Why is that even relevant?"

"Because I'd like to be able to walk around the school with less risk of being discovered! Because they are mine! Because-"

"Very well." Said McGonagall. "You drink that, and I'll give you your medallions, and your pendant."

"Go get them."

Minerva laughed slightly and put her hand into her robes, withdrawing three items. One golden medallion with a sun engraved upon it, one copper medallion with a heart on it, and an iron pendant in the shape of an eye with a gold dot where the iris should be.

Snape just nodded, not questioning why she had kept them with her. He had something else weighing on his mind.

"And why do you want me to drink something that might immediately make me more dangerous?"

"Because it will also guarantee you come back quickly, if you manage to slip past me. Which you will not."

Snape could not deny that possibility, but refrained from any expression that might show his displeasure at that. It might be true. But he had some things to test first. Some things to get out of his system. And a plan, he had a plan.

So he looked at the vial, and unstoppered it. He breathed in deeply as the smell of ozone filled the room. He exhaled and was about to drink when he remembered a lesson from earlier that day, one he had discounted. He looked at Minerva and nodded, before going to find a goblet.

"Severus, what are you doing?"

"Getting a goblet to drink out of." He said as he picked one up from a shelf with numerous bottles and vials.

"Why? It's-"

"Polite." He said as he poured the red liquid into the cup. The action effectively aerated it and the ozone was now accompanied by a sweet lemon scent. Snape inhaled the heady smell then turned to the Transfigurations Professor. Her gaze was curious and a little incredulous. He ignored it, and sipped from the cup as if it were merely wine.

His entire body was immediately filled with electric lemon zinging through his veins as ozone sung across his mind. He felt full of life, and for half a second, full. He took another sip and exhaled slightly, letting air over his tongue under the pretense of false relaxation. A brief taste of responsibility broke through the overpowering ozone for a moment.

"Oh and Severus?"

Snape looked up from the cup at the old witch.

"Tahiti was still worse." She said with a smirk.

Snape nodded and took another sip, not caring at the moment.

"I will find out what happened there someday."

"I doubt it. Now, will you accompany me to-"

"No." Said Snape between mouthfuls.

"Why ever not? Surely this will help you withstand-"

"Minerva, I was fine before you teased me with that vial. Now?" Snape finished the glass and set it down with a gentle clink. He looked at her very carefully, up and down her frame.

McGonagall frowned and Snape smiled. The look he was giving her would surely make her feel like an object, a piece of meat. And not in a sexual way at all, the quite literal way. He knew she liked being regarded as a purely sexual object very little, she would like this even less.

However Snape was not thinking about her blood right now, he was not even thinking about her.

"Severus, we don't want to have to go through deto-"

"I doubt I could get addicted to anything less than Merlin's blood right now, but that is not my foremost thought. You have no more vials of blood on you…" He took a deep breath through his nose. "I believe Pomona does however. And…" Snape inhaled again as Minerva raised her wand. "Trelawny. She doesn't even know of my condition. She couldn't fight her way out of the sorting hat, let alone-"

A spell lit up the room. Snape dodged it, leaning to the side and stepping forward. He moved in a blur, standing behind McGonagall in seconds.

"Now, I distinctly remember you promised me my medallions if I drank this."

McGonagall gasped at the voice behind her and turned around to find the vampire centimeters from her face. He had said the blood would increase his potency, but she hadn't expected this much.

"I would like them please."

"Severus-"

"Now."

McGonagall pursed her lips in annoyance but nodded and retrieved the items from her pocket once more. Snape nodded his thanks and quickly took them from her. He retreated to the other side of the room amidst protests and sat down on a stool, setting the two medallions on the table and putting his amulet under his shirt.

"Minerva, this will take some time. If you want to watch me slice open my own skin and burn my muscles you are welcome to stay. Most find it disturbing." The noncommittal comment fell on deaf ears as he removed his robe with a wave while Minerva frowned. "Very well. We can hope my numerous meals over the past two days will keep me sated after I heal the wounds."

McGonagall just huffed her disapproval as she strutted forward and set about rolling up the man's left sleeve to much protest.

"Oh shush. I've seen the mark many times."

"Yes, from afar. You are touching me. Cease at once." Said the Ex Death Eater as he stood up in a blur and moved across the room.

Minerva just shook her head in amusement. "Do you remember the year I took over physicals when Poppy had to return home to take care of her ailing father? Certainly you didn't forget that we slept in the same room for over three weeks not that long ago? Perhaps-"

With each word Snape's face got more stiff as he hid his embarrassment. He had indeed forgotten, or rather repressed, that first memory. He frowned slightly as she spoke but he rolled up his sleeve, the fabric stretching and folding magically to allow it to go up farther than it should be able to. He finished rolling up the other as well, if only to prevent her from doing it.

"I'd prefer if you'd leave."

"Well, we don't often get what we want, now do we Severus?" Said the very nonplussed witch as she patted the chair.

Snape sighed and sat down. He didn't want her here, perhaps he could get her to leave, at least for a bit. Whatever he attempted, it would have to be indirect. He quickly came up with a possible plan.

"If you wish to help, truly wish to help, please go get the smallest knife from the drawer over there." He said pointing at a drawer beneath a bike shelf set into the wall.

McGonagall opened the drawer and frowned as she picked up the object. The knife was very old and dull, and McGonagall pursed her lips when she inspected it.

"Don't you have other knives here?"

Snape shook her head at the question.

"Then wouldn't you prefer your potions knives? They are far sharper."

"Yes, but they are, as their name suggests, in the potions room." Said Snape with a sneer.

Minerva shook her head in exasperation and walked toward the hanging painting of the rose. She tapped the pestle and the painting moved upward, revealing the red door. Looking back at Snape she just said "Password?"

Snape frowned. He was hoping she didn't know of this one, but it seemed she did. He'd have to change the password after this.

"Giraffe."

McGonagall was about to repeat the word, but paused and turned to look at the vampire.

"What?"

Snape sneered at her confusion, happy to poke at it. "Giraffe, it's a ungulate native to th-"

"I'm quite aware of what a giraffe is, Severus. Why in Merlin's name is that your password?"

"Would you have guessed it?" Said Snape detachedly and McGonagall blinked, but nodded her concession that she would not have guessed that. "Don't close the doors behind you, or you'll have to walk around to get back."

"You could give me the other password, Severus." Said the witch annoyedly.

"No."

Minerva rolled her eyes and unlocked the door. She walked through, careful not to close the door behind her.

As soon as she was through both doors Snape immediately flicked his wand and closed both of them, a slight smile on his face. He then locked the normal door to his rooms and returned moved the stool to below the shelves of old potions books and more volatile ingredients. From a drawer in the desk below he withdrew an inkwell and a silver quill. From another drawer he withdrew a knife, far sharper than the one that he used mainly for opening seed pods that reacted poorly to magical intervention.

He removed the pendant and wrapped its cord around his upper right arm under the rolled up sleeve. He had a feeling that it might come in handy, and removing it from his neck would be rather obvious if he needed it. He then set about the long task of reinserting the medallions under his skin.

The silver quill was dipped in ink and the symbols etched onto the skin. He started with the alchemical symbol for salt on the inner side of his left bicep. Smoke rose from sizzling flesh as the silver touched his skin to etch the representations. Around the circle he put the alchemical symbols for air and earth opposite each other, and then put lead down below at an angle.

The flesh was an angry red when he was done, the lines leaking slightly as he put the quill down. He next picked up his wand and was about to do something with it when there was a very angry knock at the door.

"Severus Snape I swear to Merlin you are the most pigheaded idiot I have ever known. Open this door at once!"

Snape just rolled his eyes and threw a reinforcement charm at the door and quickly followed it with a melting charm at the keyhole.

An affronted gasp came from the other side of the door and Snape smirked. He tapped his wand in the center of the symbol for salt, the representation of the physical and with a slight flash a small tattooesque raven appeared on his skin. It looked at him and cawed before hopping around and moving all the symbols around to make an odd bastardization of the squared circle. The symbols burned red trails along his skin as they moved but he showed no sign of discomfort as he picked up the knife.

As soon as the raven vanished he began to cut along the bottom edge of the circle, muttering a spell the entire time to minimize blood flow. Soon enough the entire bottom half was free, a half moon of skin that could be peeled back to reveal muscle that was slightly red amidst the gray of the no longer living, hungry vampiric flesh. The sound of spells rebounding of the wards on his door filled the hallway.

The melting of the doorknob was just a misdirection, a hindrance. It would take time to dismantle those wards. He could hear her heartbeat on the other side of the door, fast and hard as it always was when she was angry, one of the reasons he loved baiting her. Her strong Scottish heart beat hot as she hid her temper, an enticing distraction. One he would have to ignore for now, despite how many unwanted fantasies it wove in his head.

The knife was slid under the skin to the other side of the circle to separate it from flesh there as well and then set gingerly down. The wound started leaking as soon as he stopped muttering and he acted quickly. He picked up the medallion that made his heart beat and with a muttered spell it began to glow, his fingers burning as they held it.

He ignored the banging of a repeated percussion blast on the wards. He just smiled again slightly when a mild expletive wandered under the door as he put the medallion into the little pocket and then pressed the skin on top of it down. Sizzling filled the room as the medallion burned muscle away to sink and settle into the flesh more deeply. It wouldn't do to have a noticeable outline of a circle protruding from under his skin.

As soon as the outline vanished he let go and with the tip of his wand red hot, sealed the opening closed. He waited for the medallion to work, and soon his heart lurched painfully, then started to beat. He sat silently, getting used to the sound of the drum in his own body, the movement of a heart that wouldn't beat otherwise.

He was rolling down his sleeve when the wall next to the door twisted and shrunk as it turned into a swan. The white bird honked loudly, flapping its wings in confusion before it froze in place as a very annoyed witch stepped around the irate avian.

"Severus Snape, you are the most obstinate man I have ever met."

Snape looked up detachedly as the witch returned the wall to its previous condition. "Do I need to start warding the walls around my rooms as well now?" He commented as he picked up the quill again. It looked like he would have some company after all, but the first medallion required symbols that were a bit more… basic and therefore dangerous if not concentrated on. Magic did not like having space for interpretation left.

"If you continue to insist one being an utter buffoon, yes!" She said as she turned around with an exasperated look on her face. "Really, do you find receiving assistance as demeaning as asking for it? I…" She stopped and paused, as if sensing something.

Snape ignored her and dipped the silver quill in ink, once more drawing the symbols for salt, air, and earth on his right arm.

"Severus, really? You're using alchemy on your own body?"

"Yes, which is why I wanted you to leave. Having the enchanted medallion and getting the body to accept it, are two different things."

McGonagall frowned, self transfiguration was already a dangerous undertaking, adding alchemy to it just made it worse. Still, that wasn't what she sensed before.

"Nigredo? The raven for your alchemist's familiar? Really?"

"Well it couldn't very well be the dove. And while many students say my skin is sallow enough I don't think Citrinitas suits me, even though I do follow another old man. If you haven't noticed, the sun and I don't get along."

"And the red figure?"

"It showed as a phoenix for me and was decidedly disinterested." Said Snape as he finished the symbol for Leo, the alchemical process of digestion. "I assume that was the one that chose you?"

"No. Rubedo rarely chooses anyone, you know that. It's even more fickle than Albedo."

"Albedo isn't fickle Minerva, it's contradictory." The Potions Master's voice was dismissive and annoyed as he set the quill down and picked up his wand. Once again he tapped his arm and the raven appeared on his skin, pulling the symbols with its beak into another instance of the squared circle as he muttered under his breath. When he was done Minerva went to hand him the knife she had brought from the potions room but Snape just picked up the sharp knife he had used before.

Minerva frowned. "You didn't even need this knife! Did you really just send me out because you dreaded my company?" She huffed.

"I didn't send you, you volunteered." He said as he began the same cutting process once more. Minerva watched as her colleague calmly mutilated the skin and flesh of his right arm as if it were a daily occurance. "And you are correct, I didn't want you hovering over me- like you are right now."

Minerva just rolled her eyes and watched him. "Doesn't that hurt?"

Snape didn't respond to her question, he was murmuring under his breath again as he carefully separated the skin from his flesh on the other side of the circle.

"Severus?"

He ignored her still when he was finished, his wound leaking red as he stopped muttering the blood stopping charm. He grabbed the medallion and was about to pick up his wand to heat it when he remembered his upset stomach. It seemed months ago. But it was one of the last meals he had that wasn't meat, as his recent foray into his memories reminded him.

He started muttering the blood stopping charm again while he looked over the medallion quickly. Turning it over it wasn't long before he found the problem. A slight chip in one of the runes. Most likely due to his transformation, or maybe it had happened long ago and only now got deep enough to actually affect the medallion. Either way, a quick repairo should solve it.

He stopped the muttering and picked up his wand. He deftly cast the spell before once again heating the medallion and sliding it into the open wound. Only then did he answer Minerva, who had patiently waited knowing he needed to concentrate.

"It hurts immensely due to the silver quill. I'll be fine." The words were spoken calmly as he pushed the skin atop the medallion down, forcing the medallion into the muscle below. The sound of hissing from hot metal against wet flesh filled the room.

As soon as the medallion no longer created a bulge in his skin he stopped and sealed the wound with the tip of his wand. He once again took a breath and waited for a moment. After that he opened his eyes, cast a cleaning charm, and stood up.

"Firewhiskey Minerva?" He queried as he rolled down his sleeve and summoned a cloak instead of his robes this time.

"No. Severus, we should discu-"

"Minerva, I showed you those memories so we wouldn't have to discuss anything. Surely you understand now what I combat each day and how that affects my mentality. Be glad I didn't show you the days right after I turned, or more Death Eater meetings. So, if we must discuss anything other than if you wish to join me for a drink, it will be over firewhiskey anyway. If it weren't for the fact that I know you would keep needling at me, we wouldn't be talking at all. In fact, I wouldn't have shown you any of this."

Minerva huffed but nodded and sat down in a red armchair she hastily summoned across from his own green one. Snape meanwhile grabbed a decanter of red amber liquid from a shelf above him where it sat next to a bottle of green liquid containing something with too few tentacles and set it down on the desk beneath the shelves. As he reached for glasses from another shelf Minerva frowned and began asking questions he decidedly did not care to answer.

"So, your feedings and attacks on me were obviously due to addiction, but you choose to fall into that…role because why?"

Snape sighed as he opened the decanter, he was using a double dose, that was for sure. He whispered a word as she asked her question and the covering on the pendant of poison on his right wrist popped open. It had successfully been pulled down to his wrist with his sleeve.

He carefully poured the firewhiskey so the eye shaped vial tipped and mixed its clear liquid with the spicy red amber stream. It poured into one glass and then the other. Snape didn't want to risk wasting it, and his chance, if the old cat decided to be wary right now.

"Because my mind was clouded enough that my reasoning was flawed. You felt the clouds on the edge of my mind. I felt relaxing there with you would be safe. I did not, could not, think through the results of my intended actions clearly. It could have been a great loss and danger if you had become a thrall." He pushed his wrist against the top of the liquor bottle as he capped it, closing the opening to the pendant of poison. He made a show of straightening his cuffs, actually tucking the pendant away, and then went to pick up the glasses. He paused and instead opened a drawer filled with empty vials. He tapped six with his wand and they swapped places with the ones filled with ingredients on the bandolier hidden beneath his shirt. He was very glad he had enchanted his vials with a switching charm. He closed the drawer, he'd organize that later, and picked up the glasses.

"And if you…had failed in that? Did you not see that as a possibility?"

Snape shook his head at the question and headed over the table next to Minerva and his chair. He set both glasses down next to each other, allowing her to choose her own.

"I found it unlikely, I didn't want it. Besides, the only thing I would enjoy more than that is seeing your face when Slytherin wins the Quidditch and House Cup every year until you retire." He taunted as he sat down in the chair. He looked at the woman across from him and nodded. "And I occasionally enjoy your 'dreaded' company. I believe it would be rather hard to do that if I killed you." The comments were given with a slight smile as he gestured to the glasses.

With a fake huff of annoyance accompanied by her own tight lipped smile McGonagall picked up one of the glasses.

Snape folded his fingers and thought for a moment. "What I wish to know, Minerva, is how you are doing this? Emotionally I mean. Most people would be attempting to kill me, berate me, curse me, and here you are sharing a drink. You are very aware that I intend to once again do something you disagree with, and that we will most likely come to wands. So, my question is, how have you managed to escape being institutionalized in St. Mungo's?"

As he finished his question he picked up his own glass and took a sip, the taste of the poison was there, if you knew what to look for. The slightest hint of earth amidst the spice and burning, he could barely taste it, taste anything, but it would be the same ratio to everything else no matter how strong the flavor was. He doubted Minerva would notice. He watched over the rim of his glass as Minerva took a sip and she smiled a genuine smile at his barb.

"Well, I try not to judge anyone when they aren't exactly at their best."

"Are you implying you know what my best is?" He said as he sipped his own drink.

"I know what you present as your best. I doubt you've ever been at your best with all that dour guilt you carry around like a martyr."

"Oh, and you think you're one to talk with your weakness for gambling and competitive nature? How much of your pay came to me last year when you decided to up the ante?"

"Not even an eighth."

"Really?" Snape said with an arched brow as he took another sip, hoping for McGonagall to mirror him. She did and he continued. "I'll have to renegotiate my pay."

"I've been here quite a bit longer, Severus. Now, I believe what I want to know next is if you can quantify how much worse your hunger has gotten since the incident."

Snape sneered. "Worse."

McGonagall scoffed. It was a common occurrence. Snape would sneer and say something acerbic and McGonagall would huff or scoff and parry his reply with an equally witty retort. Snape was happy to see this had not changed despite their earlier encounters. He would have missed it. Another reason he was quite happy that he hadn't succeeded in enthralling her.

"Please Severus. I thought surely a scientific mind like yours would have tried to quantify it."

"What, like one of those signs in Saint Mungo's for kids about pain? A 'how likely am I to devour my colleagues today' chart?"

"It'd be a start at least." She snapped before taking another sip. "Have you really just not done research into your condition since you successfully brewed your meal potion?"

"I mitigated it and made it as little an inconvenience as possible. Besides barely being able to taste food, up until the incident it barely affected my day to day. Aside from the occasional late night fantasy about me murdering everyone and then going to live as a monk somewhere."

Minerva rolled her eyes but ignored the last comment. "And you didn't try to do anything in case it got worse? Really, I thought you had more foresight than that."

"By the time it should have, I would no longer be here, in theory." He said, taking a sip and glancing at the clock. Minerva sighed and shook her head. She did not like when he spoke so certainly of his death, but tonight she seemed willing to drop it in pursuit of other topics.

"I still can't believe a sabotaged potion was the catalyst for this whole situation. Why did you even teach a potion that had the possibility of turning into something that could do this!? Don't tell me you didn't know?!"

"Of course I did. That potion shares a base with a new, far easier and cheaper, healing potion." Snape scowled as he took a drink. "Serves me right for attempting to be a good teacher for once! See if I ever attempt that again."

Minerva just rolled her eyes at the comment while she nursed her drink to the sound of her colleague's ranting.

"Because of that I hear heartbeats even more easily than I did before creating my meal potion. I sense better, hear better, move faster. All wonderful things if I didn't constantly feel like I was making the choice between fight or flight, and being highly encouraged to choose the more violent one." He angrily took a sip of his drink and looked at the clock before continuing. "So if you want quantifiable numbers. Let's just say… it's not quite doubled, but it's close. The problem seems to be that instead of it doubling or tripling in intensity now when I'm hungry it multiplies, and when I'm addicted it does so exponentially. It's horrid."

Both paused and sipped their drinks contemplating what that meant.

"Without taking data down each day and applying that to a scale, I can't be sure. I thought it wise not to risk exacerbating my condition by focusing on it. What I'm sure of is that I can deal with it if I have time to adapt my occlumency and other coping skills. I decidedly did not get that time. I'm also fairly certain that once I start eating what and how much I'm supposed to on a regular basis that the intensity will lessen. I doubt the fact that I hadn't eaten a real meal in years helped the situation."

Minerva paused with her glass almost to her lips and gave her friend an incredulous look.

"Don't tell me you hadn't actually drank anything besides your potion for sustenance since…"

"I started working here. There was one summer in Germany when I was doing work for the Order when a vampire hunter somehow found out what I was. I think he was using an undead detector."

"Don't those involve highly volatile magic to create?"

"No. They require a sacrifice each day to upkeep though, usually blood. Bone or flesh work fine as well, but there's a reason they are rare. I have no clue how he got one."

"Probably an heirloom."

"Most likely it was, now it's mine." He commented with a slight smile.

""How do you think he started guessing? About your condition I mean? Unless he carried the detector with him everywhere, which seems a tad improbably. From what I remember they are quite ostentatious." Said Minerva as she swirled the contents of her glass before sipping it.

Snape took note of each swallow.

"Probably because I was going out only at night. My lotion bottle had been destroyed in transit by a clumsy bell boy the hotel I was staying at insisted I use. It did not impede my mission to not go out between sunrise and sunset, so I saw no reason to make more when I'd be returning in a week. And no, the bellboy did not receive a tip."

Minerva huffed her amusement at that. "I'm assuming you handled the slayer quite easily?"

"He was not aware I was a wizard, so yes." Snape took a sip and looked at the clock again. If she stopped drinking now it would be about seventy more minutes, if she finished her drink it would be five minutes from the last sip. Each sip should remove about five to ten minutes.

"Care to describe the escapade?"

"You really want to hear what I did to the muggle?"

"Considering vampire hunters are illegal worldwide- wait did you say muggle?"

"Yes. Had no clue magic existed, had no clue about the statutes involving vampires either. He was quite surprised when I took out my wand. He laughed that I had my own stake and was preparing to commit suicide rather than face him. A quick legilimens followed by a full body bind took care of him. Man attacked me in my room at noon, and was quite surprised to see me sitting up and reading. Apparently most vampires in Germany sleep during the day. I thought it was cultural but apparently there are different types of vampires. Yet another thing that they gloss over in DADA and nearly every book I've found."

"I can see why, it's quite a weakness."

"Yes, I suppose revealing such things would be detrimental to the continued existence of the species. Is the whisky not to your liking, Minerva?"

"No no. It's quite nice. I'm just a slow drinker if I'm not doing shots."

"Shots? Really? You? The mind boggles. I refuse to believe it. The refined and resolute Minerva McGonagall doing shots?"

Minerva smiled. "I was under fifty once, you know. And I'm quite sure I can still drink anyone at this school under the table, barring Hagrid of course."

Snape smiled and raised a brow. "Really? Care to bet?"

"I…" She narrowed her eyes and looked at her colleague. "Can you even get drunk anymore?"

Snape raised his glass and put an obviously false look of sorrow on. "You've found me out. Only at about ⅓ or ⅕ the rate I used to. Haven't done it often since I died, too expensive. And too risky once I became a spy. With …him gone for now and me at school, I'd considered it, but, as stated before, it's expensive and risky for numerous other reasons."

"Well how much would you need?"

"It took a bottle of Ogden's before I died, so most likely three or four now."

McGonagall pondered. Presented with a problem the Ravenclaw in her was showing, attempting to find a solution.

Snape glanced at the clock. At her current level of imbibement, half an hour till the poison took effect.

"Have you tried mixing blood with it?"

"From whom? Really, it'd be unreasonable to ask my colleagues to volunteer blood just so I could get knackered. Also, that might ruin the taste of two beverages, so no."

"For someone as scientifically minded and curious as you are I can't believe you haven't found a way around that. Especially since I remember finding you passed out quite a few nights in the astronomy tower with a bottle of Ogden's. How you got a hold of it I'll never know."

"You'd have to go to Azkaban to find out. I stole it from Black every time."

"Severus!"

"What? If the fools couldn't tell the difference between whiskey I brewed in a cauldron and Ogden's they certainly didn't deserve it."

"Really!? And where were you doing this? Certainly Slughorn wasn't letting you."

"Under my bed. It's the only potion I have yet to perfect. Alcohol made with alchemy and potions has never quite tasted as good as anything aged in a barrel. It's quite a bit cheaper though." Snape said as he finished off his glass and stood up to get the bottle. "Also, I am quite positive on how I would be able to get drunk, but I have yet to find an inebriated victim whom no one would miss that didn't smell like piss or vomit."

"Surely you could just let them live?"

Snape poured himself some more and brought the bottle back with him. "Considering I've never tried it, I don't really want to find out how my control suffers when I'm drunk. It's much harder to occlude while inebriated and there's this middle ground I attempt to stay in, just above starving."

"What's at the other end of this scale?"

"Look at our guest, he lives it." Said Snape as he took a small sip and enjoyed the feeling of fire in his throat. He may not be able to taste the alcohol as much but he could feel the burning.

Minerva's face twisted with distaste at the thought of the other vampire in the castle.

"Speaking of which, what did you mean it wasn't worth it? Surely it'd be worth anything to kill him?"

"Not if it doesn't actually do so, he's immortal. He claims to have made what amounts to blood horcruxes. It's ingenious." Snape raised a brow and watched as Minerva nearly dropped her drink, her face almost as pale as his.

"What?!"

"Calm yourself. It's nowhere near as horrific. It doesn't involve the soul at all and they should be quite easy to destroy. The problem will be finding them. Till then, I'd highly suggest not attempting to kill him, might as well just improve your chess game."

"I… That's what he got, what we-" McGonagall took a breath and looked at her drink, and shot the rest of it before leaning forward to pour herself some more. Snape quirked a brow at her incomplete sentence but merely picked up the bottle and poured it for her as she took a breath and he looked at the clock. Five minutes.

"Is this something you can do? Do you know how?"

"Maybe."

Minerva sighed at the answer. "And which question is that an answer to?"

"The second, and no, I won't elaborate."

"In case you actually manage to do it? Even though it might help destroy him? Really, do you want me to die going up against the monster?"

Snape sighed and pinched his nose, she had him there.

"Because I don't want this to become common knowledge. This would create panic. It would mean vampires become that much more powerful, more hated, more feared. If it ever gets out that I am one-"

"Severus, I am a well renowned expert on Transfiguration, not Dark Magic or creatures. My word on such things will hold No weight."

"You underestimate your influence, Minerva."

"I doubt it. Just-"

"I might tell you, after this fiasco is over." Snape interrupted her. "For now, just be content that I might know."

"How about we discuss this during our first lesson then?"

Snape paused with his drink halfway to his mouth.

"Lesson? What are you talking about? Unless this is one of Dumbledore's cockamamy schemes and we are now teaching Alchemical Transfiguration together, or heaven forbid, Sexual Education. I have no recollection of being required to participate in lessons with you of any type since being a student here." Snape rolled his eyes at the very idea of teaching Alchemy together with someone, masking his confusion at his colleague's statement.

Minerva pursed her lips in an almost smile, hiding her amusement at Snape's confusion.

"Of course not. We haven't had enough students interested in taking Alchemy to actually have a class for years, let alone alchemical transfiguration. And sexual education? I think if anything would cause students to drop dead from fear it would be finding out either of us were teaching that class."

"Then please, enlighten me. What are you talking about?"

The smirk on McGonagall's face seemed very out of place as she slowly took another sip. "Don't tell me you think you won our bet? You were the one who ended the spell, not me.

At Minerva's comment Snape blinked, then sipped his drink with a scowl.

"Seriously Severus, it won't be that bad."

"So you say, you're not the one being tortured."

"Rictusempra, tickling, is not torture. Perhaps you'll learn to actually laugh and like it."

"Minerva, it will be a cold day in hell." Snape said as he looked at the clock. Two and a half minutes left.

"What are you looking at?"

"The time."

"Yes, I know that Severus, but it's not like you have an appointment so why are you looking at the clock?"

Snape just took another sip of his drink.

"It is unimportant. What is important is if you have any theories on using wandless magic to manipulate magical energy. I purchased these today." He said as he removed the books he bought from his pocket and returned them to their normal size. Upon the books appearing the bibliophile across from him immediately picked up the top one.

"Oh, Lightfoot finally published that last one."

"You know him?" Said Snape as he poured more whiskey in both their glasses.

"Old friend from when I worked at the Ministry. He quit at the same time I did. I became a teacher, he became a researcher. I've been looking forward to this last book."

"I skimmed it. I understand how wandless magic works, where the will and intent come in, and, in theory, where magic resides in the body."

"The humours?"

"No, he rescinded that belief in this book and went with blood, marrow, and …" Snape paused as he tried to remember the term. "Scared. No. Nervous?"

"No…" Minervas looked at him like he had decided to give out candy for Valentines. "Why should I be nervous? What are you talking about?"

Snape shook his head. "He married a muggle doctor. The nervous system. Nerves, yes. Mostly associated with touch, that's what most wizards know of I believe.

"Yes, I know of nerves, Severus." Said the Transfiguration Professor annoyedly. "It is what the Cruciatus attacks, I believe?"

"Correct, but it is apparently more than that. There's an entire system, the nervous system. It's what Muggles call the system in our body that uses electricity-"

"What? I vaguely remember the term but it's been so long."

"Lightning."

Minerva's look of dubiety returned. "We have lightning in our bodies? Severus, you really expect me to-"

"Every living thing creature does, apparently. It runs through this system and it is what allows our mind… to… to talk and tell our body what to do. Our heart to beat, us to think."

McGonagall regarded Snape who just took another sip. They had discussions, well arguments, about numerous topics from theoretical magic to theology. This was new territory for both of them though, her especially.

"When did you learn this?"

"Some of it up in the headmaster's own untraceable chamber. He has it connected to a Muggle library and I read during my imprisonment. Lightfoot also has a reference in the back and I was able to remember some from before I came to Hogwarts. Or, if you're talking about electricity, when I went to muggle school. They use lightning to power their houses, it's in those wires you see all about." He said, hiding his amusement that he was so much more knowledgeable about a subject than Minerva. Really, the muggle studies classes were woefully out of date, still teaching about the political leanings of long dead kings and queens. They touched on the modern world, but not enough. It most certainly should be required for all students, if only to avoid electrocution, bullets, pepper spray, and learn what security cameras are.

Minerva huffed in disbelief. "Really, you expect me to believe all this nonsense? You're pulling my leg, trying to distract me."

"What you believe or not is immaterial to the truth Minerva. I'd bet you 50 galleons that if I used a lightning control spell on you right now, you'd die."

"You know, that's one bet I think I'll pass on." She said as the lines on her face showed her age and displeasure.

"Wise choice, although I didn't actually offer. Now, your opinion. Do you think attempting to basically almost cast a spell is possible? Come to the cusp, with full intention of finishing, and then send out energy instead?" Snape watched as Minerva blushed slightly and rolled his eyes. "Really McGonagall, I thought we were above such prudishness, especially after last Hogmanay."

The blush only deepened but was now accompanied with a frown. Apparently just three glasses of firewhiskey and her proverbial hair came down slightly, if not her physical. He'd have to remember that. It was obviously affecting her since she had yet to backtrack to some of her earlier questions he'd barely answered.

"I stand by that Flitwick enchanted that punch!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Snape said with the smallest smile.

McGonagall's frown deepened but was quickly replaced by another smirk as she refilled her glass for the fourth time, but far below where it was previously filled to.

"You know that rumor of the love potion, the staff spread that one."

The glass in Snape's hand froze, and then was lowered as he stared at her. "Why?" That one word held as much irritation as any '50 points from Gyffindor' ever had, but with much less satisfaction behind it.

"Something plausible for your absence and our obvious search and concern." She said with that small smug smile peeking out from behind the glass.

"The exact rumor. Now." He said with a glower that demanded immediate acquiescence. Minerva seemed unmoved, but answered anyway.

"That as a potion's master who on the regular tests new potions, and drinks various ones daily, the love potion had a decidedly negative effect."

"And did you happen to mention what said effect was?"

"I believe most of us left that up to the students' imaginations."

"Most?"

"Pomona said that it had an inverse effect, as in violence and hatred. It seemed in standing enough with your demeanor." The comment was given with a hint of amusement.

"And did she come up with that idea?"

"Yes, actually. She apparently had a similar experience with a love potion being snuck into her drink when she was on an antidepressive draught after her father passed."

Snape grumbled. It was a good excuse, and besides the rumors about who tried to give him the potion, his reputation was intact. Perhaps it might even be a little better if there was someone out there who actually wanted to give the dreaded Dungeon Bat a love potion. As long as it didn't open the door to people actually doing it. Snape sighed.

"I noticed you left after one sip." Minerva said.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"That Hogmanay. You took one sip of the punch and left."

"Ah, this again. I thought it prudent considering what the spell did."

"Really, who is a prude now?" A raised eyebrow peeking over the edge of her cup said more than her words.

Snape just sneered. "Minerva, I ate the last three sexual partners I had. So whatever the rest of the staff got up to, I felt homicide might dampen the mood. So I left, took a counter potion, and tried to ignore the noise during my rounds. I could hear Pomona and Rolanda either way, I dare say the devil's snare would need therapy if it had a brain. Although all that created a fine reason for me to never attend a party again."

Minerva snorted in disdain and amusement at her colleague's show of false dislike. He knew she saw a smile that night before he had drank any of the punch. They had all thought that it was just that someone had put too much whiskey in the punch, not charmed it. And they continued to think that until they themselves had a drink, felt the spell, and then were far too distracted to talk.

"Surely you can control yourself and notl-"

"If you can control yourself at the end, you are doing something very wrong. Or at least have no intent to enjoy yourself thoroughly." Snape said with a huff.

Minerva's expression during this length of conversation has gone from horrified to amused and now settled on pensive.

"Wait…you said you haven't had any blood besides that vampire hunter… since..."

"And? Your point?"

"Well, I'm assuming you didn't have any sexual relations with the vampire hunter…"

"He was decidedly not my type." Said Snape with a slight smile.

"What, not enough red hair?" The Transfigurations Professor jabbed.

Snape ignored it; the woman was halfway intoxicated, and he had won this battle of wits the moment she had taken a sip.

"Oh, he was in fact a red head; but no, he did not seem to be the receiving type, and I don't often go for potbellied males. He was quite satisfying in other ways though."

"Really Severus, how gauche can you be?" Said Minerva with a roll of her eyes.

Snape repressed a smirk and drawled out his response as deadpan as he could. "I thought I was quite eloquent. I could have said he didn't seem to be the type to take it up the arse, but his blood tasted of pear cider and petrichor."

Minerva almost choked on her drink and Snape's lips curled with satisfaction. He looked at the clock. She should be feeling the effects in a few seconds; of course, after nearly four glasses, maybe she wouldn't notice until she was on the floor.

"Severus! I almost choked! Don't be so vulgar. And why are you still looking at the clock, if it is so unimportant?" Snape just held up a hand. He lowered one finger. " And what," another finger was lowered "praytell," another finger "is this" another finger "supposed" one more "to mean?" Snape paused. Minerva was about to speak, but stopped and touched the side of her face.

"Off by one second. Tch, I'll do better next time."

Minerva stared at the Potion's Master's mild annoyance as he sipped his drink unconcernedly.

"What have you done?" Her voice was a whisper, heavy with anger that was split between herself and him.

Snape finished his glass and set it down gently, long fingers playing its edge a moment before he responded.

"Poisoned you. Was that not apparent?" He stood up and took her glass from her quickly stiffening fingers.

"Of course! But with what? What does… it do? I'm assuming you're… immune, so that rules… … out a fair bit of ….."

Snape answered the unfinished statement as it became hard to move her mouth.

"I'm not immune. I'm immune if it's taken orally, dropped in my eye it would paralyze me just as it is doing to you."

"That's… not… some… thing I…" Minerva was struggling even more to move her mouth now.

"Not any poison you've heard of? Of course not, I invented it. For numerous reasons and applications. This is the one I considered the most unlikely, but the most enticing." He could see her body stiffening, her mouth struggling as she tried to bite out one last comment. She managed one word.

"Antidote?"

"None." He smiled as her eyelids tensed as they tried to open in surprise and fear, her heartbeat skyrocketed however. "Well, not in the strictest sense." He said as he finished her drink then set the glass down next to his. "There is no antidote you can take, not easily." He paused, and smirked at the ire filling her eyes. "After all, injecting a vampire's saliva directly into one's bloodstream is not generally recommended by most medical professionals."

He could see the muscles around her neck stiffen as fear straightened it slightly, then freeze in place as the poison fully took hold. He poured himself another glass, taking in the look of frozen fury he was receiving. It was very gratifying.

"You may have been a hat stall for Ravenclaw Minerva but you aren't paranoid enough to play chess with me… or Mr. Lee. You've lost that edge since you became a teacher." He took a sip and smirked at the idea of him using polyjuice to pretend to be the stern witch across from him.

"Take a page from Madeye and start practicing his catchphrase." He said as he untangled the pendant from around his wrist and returned it to his neck. The eyes across from him almost twitched in her anger. "Don't worry, I'll release you before I leave." He smiled at her panic stricken eyes and shook his head. "Considering the poison wears off in direct relation to how much blood a person has left in correlation to how much vampire saliva is in their system, I'm leaving you decidedly more intact than our last altercations. Which, while I enjoyed, I suppose I should apologize for." He set the half full glass down and looked at his colleague. "I will not leave you reliant on someone else for the cure. If you haven't heard, there are vampires loose in the building." His amused tone brought nothing but anger from the woman's gaze.

He sat and thought for a moment, then began to think out loud. "I do need to figure out how to get out of here. I'm assuming by now that at least a few other professors are patrolling the grounds while the others are at dinner to maintain a veneer of normality. I can smell at least four vials of Albus' blood… It's not difficult to sense them, filled with magic as they are. Perhaps I shall gather those vials before I attempt my second escape." He said, standing and walking over. He looked at Minerva's raised hand that rictus held in place grasping a phantom glass, and knelt down, cupping it with his. He leaned forward and let a single fang pierce the side of her thumb every so slightly.

Blood welled like a single ruby and he swiped it away with his own fore finger as he stood up. Once out of her sight he wiped it against his tongue as if it were a bit of butter.

He'd never drink from her directly again, not if he could help it. Hopefully he'd always feel that way. Even through addiction. That fantasy had been fulfilled in a horrifying way. With it done, he looked back upon it with as much longing as he did regret. A knot in his stomach where blood should be. He had yet to examine it closely, and was not sure he wanted to.

He stood beside her and tapped his wand against her temple, her eyes slowly started to water. "I'd hate to return to find your ability to look at me with the utmost disapproval has been ruined by your current inability to blink." She would have been fine, most likely, but it would add insult to injury. She hated to be seen crying. He made his way to the secret door behind the painting. With a tap it was once again revealed and at a whispered word about the long necked ungulate the door opened.

"Consider this my payback for rictusempra. You'll be fine in two or three… hours. I look forward to our next 'chess match', and if you wish you may borrow Lightfoot's most recent book when you leave. Have a wonderful evening…Professor." He said with a slightly mocking tone as if he were still the student, despite having just taught the witch a lesson in having a battle of wits with a Slytherin Spy. Before heading out he cast an imperturbable charm on the more visible door to his chambers, just in case another vampire came seeking the woman. He sneered and closed the door behind him, heading to his office. He could feel the woman's fury through the door and he almost had trouble fighting back a chuckle.

Almost.