(WARNING: Self harm.)

It was Wednesday morning and Snape sat in his chair, discontent. He tapped his fingers on the arm, trying to puzzle out the reason. Everything was right, perfect, going well. Yet, he felt off kilter. Wrong. Something was off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He felt fine, he wasn't going through the withdrawal pangs he'd been dealing with. He wasn't starving. His mental shields were intact. So, what was wrong?

He threw his mind back to when this all started. What had been happening? Well, the potion had of course messed everything up. He changed and then what…. He'd gotten his usual pangs of hunger and taken his potion, however neither the hunger nor pain abated. It had grown worse after that first meal, the chaotic events smashing every attempt at order to smithereens. The hunger had grown, the pain had as well, though it had been tolerable because he was rather used to it after 10 years. Then, he'd had food but got addicted. He'd dealt with that, it was a different type of sensation than his normal hunger, but it had not been pleasant. Still, he'd gotten over it through a rather painful detox, and of course immediately fell into another problem. Now though all that pain was over, the itching withdrawals had finally started to become less frequent, and since he was eating his normal hunger pains weren't present and-

He stopped, his fingers pausing their tattoo on the chair. Pain. He wasn't in pain. Of any type. He was in fact rather content. Physically and emotionally. He was going on a godsdamned second date (was it really that?) this very evening. And through all these weeks of coping and so called healing he… hadn't been in pain. His eyes widened in horror and self disgust.

Pain had been his only way of repenting since… What? Since he'd signed his life over to the other side? Since he realized his stupidity? Gained a slightly less broken moral compass? Fucked up so utterly that he couldn't find redemption only self recrimination? Since the Dark Lord had fallen?

Did it matter? He… He'd been in a holding pattern otherwise, waiting for whispers of the Dark Lord's return, for the boy to come to the school so he could protect him. His actual purposes were out of reach so he'd had to do something to repent. But, with how he hadn't been eating he couldn't very well self flagellate, healing with just his meal potion was not easy. The only thing he'd really had was the pain from not eating. It was one of the main reasons he didn't… hunt over the summers. The other being that he had been afraid he'd… enjoy it too much. If he had, he'd have run out of vagrants and criminals long ago and would have been forced to move on to… His fingers squeezed the chair arm, putting dimples and creases in it from the pressure.

And now, that he'd fucking accepted it? Accepted the aspect of himself that was, and had always been, would always be a monster? From a fearful and hateful child, to a death eater, to a vampire, it was just a different mask each time really. Getting closer and closer to the truth.

His chair ripped slightly as his fingers pierced it, his body in a rictus born of tension instead of death, though any onlooker wouldn't have been able to tell. His thoughts paraded onward despite his body's stillness.

Gods, it was despicable. How could he think he was worthy of such… such ease, ephemeral though it was, as he'd experienced these past days when he'd… he'd forgotten his penance. If he'd forgotten his penance that meant he'd briefly forgotten why he'd needed it, or at least.. felt peace enough to move past it. He'd… he'd been so wrapped up in figuring out each new predicament… He stood up and began to pace, hands behind his back and thoughts like an erumpent barreling forward.

He clenched his hands as the reasons why he needed the pain surged forward, an attempt to get the turmoil building in his chest under control. For years, years, he'd considered the constant hunger and accompanying pain just barely enough to pay for his sins. The hunger pangs had also helped remind him he was less than human, should be alone and reviled, kept at distance by all but those powerful enough to kill him quickly. Without the pain and hunger… he'd forgotten all of this! Was he so easily distracted? Was he so easily placated? A quick fuck and some blood and suddenly he could move on from the need for penance? Surely not. He knew he hadn't repented enough. He hadn't fulfilled his duty, hadn't kept his promises, hadn't paid for his failures. How could he be so pathetic?

His whole body was tense and rigid as iron. He needed to do better. Be better. The type of peace he was currently experiencing wasn't for him. He had duties to attend to… How… how could he have forgotten? He felt the self loathing build, quickly giving way to self recrimination and then anger. An old vase his father had bought his mother exploded into fragments. Worthless and pointless it lay on the floor in bits, shattered like the calm from earlier in the day. How could he- worthless! Worthless! Each repetition of the word resulted in a small crack as the glass in numerous picture frames splintered further and further until they shattered and fell to the ground too. Amidst the tinkling he slammed his fist down onto the table, cracking it as felt his fury further stir his magic. The rest of the table cracked then exploded into small fragments of wood. It wasn't cathartic enough. He felt wired, his mind a whirl of disappointment and his muscles an unreleased spell. He didn't want to calm down, he was far too angry at his uncharacteristic lack of self awareness for such a state as numbness or calm to even sound satisfying. He. Had. Forgotten. His. Purpose.

He turned his attention to the wall. The brick shifted slightly as his fist hit it, but otherwise stayed together. The sharp brief flicker of pain felt familiar, felt… He'd forgotten… locked away so much.

His hunger, the constant feeling of absence, the pains from near starvation, that had been enough for a very long time. But before that, before he'd had another technique. Far too risky to do on the regular when he was on the brink of starvation. He hadn't… in ages.

He looked at his blood covered yet unscathed knuckles and the stench of rotting licorice filled his nose. He remembered briefly sunny days where the heat felt cloying and dusty while he sat hidden in the attic. Sunsets and starry nights alone on the astronomy tower or hidden away in the room of requirement. The only thing that had felt right had been the pain. He raised the wooden tool of manifestation and it felt cold in his hand, it always had when he did this. The wand didn't like it obviously, but it listened.

It was a calculated movement, a flick rolled up his sleeve and another brought a small line of crimson into being.

It was as if he'd been electrified; jolted closer to reality as that deadly light seeking the earth did, finding sanity and balance as it hit. Grounding. It'd been a very long time indeed since he'd last taken part in such an act as anything other than a way to remove unwanted blood from his veins. So long… A weak, pitiful, naive child. He had grown out of the habit, out of the need for escape through pain. He had… But then… with his transgressions it felt wrong to be absent of it.

Most of his life had been spent in some form of pain or hunger. To be absent from it should be a relief, instead it felt wrong. He was too used to it, he supposed. It felt familiar… right. The world obviously agreed he was deserving of it, much to his humiliation. Once upon a time perhaps he hadn't deserved the pain, but now… Now he'd earned it. And he'd… he'd been so wrapped up in his problems and addiction and euphoria that he'd… managed somehow to just…. Exist without it. He felt sick. How could he have just forgotten his repentance? How could he have existed without pain for so long?

He flicked his wand again seeing that the first wound had closed, only to watch the second close quickly as well. He scowled. He didn't really care for the blood loss right now, but he nee-wanted the wound. A more violent, but no less controlled, slash of his wand tore the flesh apart, and this one did not close. He pressed into the wound, digging his nails into it. The pain was sharp and far more real than the rest of his numb body. This felt… better… and it was him doing it this time, not some lumbering piece of flesh unfit to call himself a father, not bullies on the streets or in stone corridors, not despots or sycophants looking to teach him a lesson or bring him low. He was in control now. He was the one choosing whether or not to be in pain. He was committing an act of self flagellation by choice. That's all this was.

He let go of his wrist. His hand was covered in physical proof of his own… Was it expiation or an excuse? No, he clenched his hand and shook his head. This was a way to cope with the weight of his mistakes. He could do this as needed to… repent or ground himself or whatever the technical term was, unfitting as it may be. He supposed he'd have to ask the therapist he'd be seeing, according to Albus. He had a feeling this would not be an approved technique for stress relief and penance, but considering murder was less so and euthanasia was not currently an option, (despite the fact that he was infected with an incurable disease) the man would just have to live with it. If he found out.

He looked at the clock. He had two hours before the farce of an event. Should he even go? It's not like he deserved to have such a benign outing. Not anymore. The world owed him for what it had put him through surely, but his transgressions could not be discounted. So…How could he go and not dishonor… How could he pretend he was normal? Sit there and just… exist as if he was fit to do so beside… whatever Clara and her brother were. Was there such a thing as a good person after all?

He… no. This was part of his plan to make another hideaway if he could. If everything went to shit he could hide there and meet Dorfus for food. Or hide at Dorfus' place and go there if he was found. Clara was incidental, she didn't matter except that an alliance with her was beneficial. He swallowed. Yes. Beneficial. That's all this was. He… wasn't… wouldn't seek pleasure. Not unless it was necessary to cement an alliance further. Or it was offered. Maybe not even then. It didn't matter really, it wouldn't make him forget. He'd never allow himself to forget to repent again.

He dug his fingers into the wound again and tensed at the pain. So sharp and real. It felt normal, far more right and regular than the rest of his life right now. It was familiar, not like the peace he'd had for a bit, or the the…. He swallowed and squeezed harder. Pathetic. Stoic Severus Snape undone by the simple sensation of fucking peace. It made sense though, it wasn't something he was accustomed to or had experience with. Still, he felt he should be able to do something about it. This whole situation felt wrong, with too many layers of self disgust at his present and past actions to be untangled and dealt with. He was…. Self aware enough to call it what it was. Self harm, self flagellation, but there wasn't any other way to repent satisfactorily at the moment. His wrist throbbed in agreement.

He should shower and dress in something resembling muggle clothing he mused, purposely shifting his thoughts. He looked at his arm. He should also heal that, it wouldn't close otherwise. He really didn't want to, but he couldn't walk around with it. Just… just a few more minutes and then he'd close it. Or…. Or maybe he could hide it? He was used to that. He'd hidden bruises and broken bones for decades. He'd hidden…. The scars from Lily successfully for years. From Pomfrey and Minerva as well, the overbearing mother hens. Dumbledore most likely knew, but the old man let him have his coping mechanisms, he was an adult now after all. He hadn't known during school though, no… probably not. So he was good at hiding pain and wounds and… but could he do it with Clara? Probably… unless the unthinkable happened and something her brother did exposed his arms… or worse… Clara made good on her word to 'get to his heart' and took him up… No. There's no way something like that would ever happen. A woman willingly going to bed with him in any way that wasn't some type of transaction? Money, hate, power, favors, that was familiar… but... But if it did, if her brother tore his clothes, if someone grabbed his arm… No. An open wound that didn't close, that was this deep and wasn't killing him or even causing the amount of debilitating pain it would for a human? Too risky.

He sighed and picked up his wand from the table where he'd set it and after a second's hesitation sang the counter curse. The wound closed and his body felt numb once more, removed from life as he would be if the curse wasn't keeping him moving. Perhaps he could get some silver jewelry, gauche as such a thing might be it would replace the hunger pains nicely… No, there was a very slight sizzling sound, a slight smoking too sometimes, maybe even a smell. And he'd bleed, constantly. It'd use up too much energy. Damn. Garlic had the same problem. Water blessed by Merlin perhaps? It was insanely expensive but Minerva seemed to have some… unless that was a bluff. Could he convince her to part with it? He'd probably have to debase himself in some way… would it be worth it? He'd never had such a substance splash him before, he had no idea what it'd actually do.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before counting to ten. He was spiraling, or more accurately unable to shift his focus. He counted to ten backwards. Then the Fibonacci sequence. Then the prime equation behind sacred geometry. Pathetic. He was relying on pain to ground him, as a coping mechanism like some addict. As a vampire he was already on the verge of addiction on a regular basis and he actually was now. Should he fall back on such a weakness?

Was it weakness? He didn't have an answer. He still didn't have an answer after he disrobed and took a shower. He had about an hour before he should be dressed and ready to go, he had no time for deep truths. He once again redoubled his shields and pushed his self disgust and turmoil away. There was no room for such weaknesses, real or imagined.

He walked slowly to her house, the fifteen minute walk from the park after apparating taking nearly twenty instead. His mind was in order, he was calmly numb. He felt normal again, despite the decidedly abnormal situation he was heading into.

As he neared the door he could smell it. Blood. He frowned at what that could mean and pushed the possibilities of traps and duplicity away. This was not a polyjuiced witch waiting to kill him, it was just dinner with an acquaintance. He knocked on the door, tense despite his self assurances. The door opened with such force that his hair fluttered with the abrupt displacement of air. He managed to suppress his automatic reflex to attack at the sudden movement, but barely. The main thing that helped was how strange Clara looked. She was wearing a rather odd yellow 50's house wife sort of thing, short and polka dotted, with green leggings underneath and black work trainers that had once been nice. The whole ensemble clashed horribly and Snape felt a slight pang of hunger as he was briefly reminded of Albus.

"Stephan. Come in, come in. I hope you don't mind but I invited my brother." She said while ushering him in and glancing up and down the street suspiciously. As she waved him in and he noticed the rather large bandage on her wrist and hand. It was a poorly angled cut, on the wrist long ways and slipping down to the palm. If it had been on purpose, it had gone awry. He'd ask later.

"I do mind, but it is far too late to change such a thing obviously." He said after entering.

She bit her lip nervously, worrying the skin with the slightly off white teeth of a habitual tea drinker. The door closed behind him and Snape looked around at the house quickly. He wasn't expecting a trap, but it didn't hurt to be thorough. He didn't smell any garlic at least.

"Sorry, it was rather sudden-"

"It doesn't matter. It's done." He said curtly, enjoying the sound of genuine remorse in her voice. As long as the brother didn't attempt to kill him he would call the evening a success. Although, by the smells from the kitchen he would be imbibing in something resembling palatable tonight. More palatable than that yellow outfit anyway.

"I'm just finishing up in the kitchen, make yourself at home."

He inclined his head in thanks, but followed her instead of 'making himself at home'.

"Why did you invite your brother? Neither reason I can think of seems to bode particularly well for either of us." He said silkily, rather curious as to what her response would be.

"How do you figure?" She said as she bent over to open the oven, letting the sweet smell of brown sugar permeate the room as she removed brussel sprouts and baked potatoes. He also got a quite spectacular view of her rear as he realized the frilly monstrosity she was sporting was just an apron. Most likely a novelty joke of some sort.

Pants were one thing he rather always thought wizarding society in Britain should incorporate. He may not be especially lecherous, but he could admit it was sometimes nice. Mainly however muggle clothing was far more practical for potions, dueling, and not being eaten alive by acromantulas or grabbed by dragons. He personally preferred a rather traditional look for himself, but it would be extremely… entertaining to see some people in jeans. For various reasons. He'd consider sacrificing himself and wearing black slacks and a pullover if that would get some of the pureblood elite in muggle clothing. Narcissa Malfoy in pants? Lucius Malfoy in jeans? Bellatrix in something not resembling a ripped up work of art? He might actually die from the absurdity and the looks on their faces. However he couldn't imagine Minerva in such wear, as much as that would put him into a fit of laughter. Although, she probably actually understood muggle fashion, unlike certain others. Namely Albus. He unfortunately did not have to imagine Albus in muggle clothing. He purposely in fact tried not to.

He pulled himself out of that train of thought and closed in on Clara, standing nearby, looming. "Perhaps you wanted protection from me, which would mean you not only don't trust me, but wish to capture or kill me purposely as opposed to calling someone you wouldn't mind losing, as I highly doubt your brother is skilled enough to hinder me in any way."

She twitched a bit at his voice but ignored him and smiled lightly as she started plating the food and lowering the temperature on the oven to just keep the food warm.

"Mmm? And the other possibility?"

"You're introducting me to family, which I feel it is rather early for considering I didn't know we were even dating, or that you had the inclination."

"Well, you're neither right or wrong on anything there. My brother does make me feel safer, yeah, but I'd honestly like to see you two butt heads. It will tell me a lot about you, and I believe that I'll be able to rub a few things in my brother's face by the end of the night. As for dating. I honestly don't think of such things." She paused her expose' to pour some chopped chives over the now split potatoes and check some sausages still in the oven. "Expecting or working towards a specific relationship like that can complicate things. I prefer to let anything that would happen, happen in its own time. Less pressure, fewer voices in my head."

"You… have voices in your head?" He asked, bemused.

"Yes, mainly ones that tell me to overthink and drink wine." She said offhandedly while shoving the porcelain plate into the oven alongside the Brussel sprouts that had been put into a covered serving dish.

"The voices in your head seem to be rather specific in their wants."

"Yours aren't?" She said as she closed the oven and dusted her hands together.

"I believe I don't have any besides my own." Different aspects of self counted as one voice surely.

"How dull, a man who lies." She said with a smirk. She removed the apron and hung it on a hook nearby. Her outfit beneath was simple, leggings and a cream shirt that hid her waistline. She pulled a red pleated skirt from a nearby counter and stepped into it as Snape watched with a raised brow. She was far too comfortable, casual. It made him slightly uncomfortable after the rather uptight culture of the wizarding world.

"I didn't think we were at a stage in our relationship to be dressing in front of each other." He said, covering that discomfort with conversational wit.

"You presume a lot for not having asked. And the skirt kept catching on the oven handle." She said zipping up the side.

Snape opened his mouth to say… something as his brain attempted to tackle the first part of her statement.

It was then there was a knock at the door.

"Ah! There he is." And she rushed past him before he could step aside. He followed a few steps behind her, cautiously waiting to observe the man from a distance.

The door opened to a burly figure in plaid. He looked the epitome of the American stereotype for 'lumberjack' down to the beard and dazzling grin. He was fortunately missing the axe and wood. He did however have a bag that swayed and hit the door frame as he threw up his arms.

"Sis!" He said happily.

"Give me the bag, brother mine." Said Clara holding out her hand, completely ignoring the enthusiastic greeting.

"What?" He asked, obviously only half startled. Clara made a grasping motion with her hand and her brother sighed and handed the teal green backpack over.

She opened the bag and grinned. "Aha! I knew it!" She reached in and pulled out a plastic bag filled with tacks, gum, and talcum powder.

Snape raised a brow. "What an odd assortment of items."

"He was going to prank you." She said, turning and waving the bag at him.

Snape held back his distaste. He knew this was coming but it still raised his hackles a bit. Memories reared their ugly head and he pushed them back down as he replied. "Really? Well, now that I am aware, I shall be on the lookout."

"Challenge accepted!" Said the man with a rather thick finger pointed in Snape's direction.

"That wasn't a challenge, asshole!" She said angrily as her brother grinned. She just sighed and ushered him in as well. "Stefan, this is Dan."

The aforementioned Dan walked over, the grin still on his face and held out his hand. Snape managed to hold back his dislike of the action and held out his own to be shaken. The man's grip was strong, a bit too strong for just and standard hello. His hair was flaxen, but a bit darker than his sister's and shorter and messy, unlike the beard which was bushy but well kept. The brown eyes were looking at him intently, and despite the smile Snape could see the judgment there. There were few who were good enough for this man's sister, and so far 'Stefan' certainly wasn't. The pranks were just a tool to test him. While muggle they could still be dangerous if he didn't react how a mortal should. Or if there was garlic.

He shook back and ignored the slight pain from the tight grip. He nodded. Dan's smile widened and the glint in the man's eye showed a good hearted nature whose general joviality hid something rather maliciously protective. Woe betide the man who hurt Clara it seemed.

"Wonderful to meet you Stefan, how'd you meet Clara here?"

"Her son verbally accosted me about animals late at night. The fact that I saw fit to not leave a child alone in a graveyard that evening apparently put me in her good graces."

Dan laughed heartily and slapped Snape on the shoulder, most likely in an attempt to emasculate him by making him flinch or stumble. Snape caught the brief flash of surprise in the man's eyes when he didn't acquiesce. It was close though, he was sorely tempted to flinch away. He did not appreciate being touched without permission.

"Are you saying there are circumstances where you would leave a kid?!"

"Perhaps. I'm sure if I thought long enough I could come up with one. I'd be happy to leave some of my students there." Six feet deep even, he mused to himself.

"Oh? What do you teach?"

"Maths at a small boarding school, along with managing the theater program, as you could have guessed by my highly dramatic and emotive nature."

The laugh was loud, and Snape could tell it was half forced. Dan was still measuring him up.

"Well, you must see your share of pranks there! Put a fair number in detention for it?"

"That would be an understatement. However my class is generally quiet, the students know better than to waste my time."

"Will you both please move this idiocy into the sitting room while I finish with dinner?" Said Clara as she pushed past Dan who purposefully didn't move a muscle as she squeezed by.

"What, you don't want to stay and watch me?"

"Stefan can handle himself against your puerile pranks. Just don't break anything. Including each other." She said with a glare at both of them before vanishing into the kitchen.

The two of them stood in silence for a moment before Dan nodded and headed into the "TV" room. Snape followed and watched as the man walked around the table and picked up a picture frame. The sound of moving wood didn't quite mask the sound of a subtle 'clink' followed by rolling.

"She was devastated you know, when her husband died. She's only started to recover." He said bluntly, and far more solemnly. The man didn't beat around the bush at all. He had a feeling this entire family was full of impatient people who preferred getting things done to following social niceties.

"I understand." Snape replied, near monotone with a nod.

"Do you?" Said Dan turning to him, with a far more serious look on his face.

Snape bristled internally. "Do not presume to know what I have gone through. You think because I refuse to react to your blatant invitation to measure cocks that I have not-"

"I don't presume anything other than to know what most men want from a woman, being a man myself." He interjected, crossing his arms defensively. "Clara is a strong woman who makes her own decisions, she wants a quick one night stand, that's her business. I don't agree, but I certainly don't have any right to talk. However, if you pretend to want something more when you don't… She'll have to get in line to beat up what's left of you."

Snape snorted but the rather loud thunk with which the picture was put down showed Dan's seriousness.

"What are your intentions with my sister?"

Snape scowled and crossed his arms. "I have none. I am rarely in town and could use an… acquaintance or friend to catch me up on affairs when I am. And I'm fairly sure Clara would find offense that you're interrogating me on the matter. I can't imagine she wouldn't be the first in line to destroy anyone who crosses her."

"You're not wrong." Said Dan with a nod. "You seem to know her well." Dan gestured to the couch and sat down on a chair near it.

Snape sidestepped the small marble on the ground and sat. "I've met her all of three times, but she doesn't hide who she is. What is it you do exactly, if you're done interrogating me?"

"I work with wood. Design and build nice custom pieces like railings. I do contract work, good money."

"Indeed? I-"

"Are you quite done measuring your metaphorical cocks?" Clara stepped in the room with two wine glasses. Snape held back a smirk as he accepted a glass.

"Our pants remained zipped." Said the brother, hands held up feigning innocence.

"Remained or returned to that state?" She said handing her brother the other glass.

"He remains in one piece and I remain unmolested by frivolous pranks. Is that not enough?"

"I suppose it will suffice. Finish up your interrogations and posturing, I'm setting the table now." She said, giving her brother a quick glare before whirling out again.

Snape just sipped the wine.

"Un.. unmolested by pranks? Is that how you normally talk?" Said Dan with an amused expression.

"If you're attempting to get a rise out of me by pointing out my superior vocabulary and diction, you will fail."

"I see… Well…I have nothing against a well spoken phrase or two, but constantly having to think about what words mean, it's exhausting."

"It forces others to listen to what I say. If my students have to pause and think about what I've said, they may actually listen instead of just hearing."

"Does that work?"

"They're children. Of course not."

"So how do you keep your class in order?" Said the man, seemingly genuinely interested.

"Fear." Snape replied matter-of-factly.

There was a pause before Dan burst out laughing. "I was hoping to learn a technique to get my apprentices to listen. Never mind then. I gotta take a piss." He said and quickly headed out, clapping Snape on the shoulder as he passed.

Snape sighed and just sipped the wine in silence. The brother headed to the bathroom and turned on the faucet. The man did not seem like the type to be shy. Still, the toilet flushed, hands were washed and Dan headed in to help his sister set the table. He thought on the man, Clara, and himself, and why he was here. It felt… similar to dinners with the Malfoys. There were secrets, they were reading each other, at least he and Dan were. Clara, while surely not oblivious, seemed resigned that something was going to happen and he had a feeling she was quite ready to whack either of them upside the head with a spoon.

Still, it felt familiar but far more relaxed, at least for him. There was nothing too serious on the line here. The oddity of the situation as a whole, and his place in it, still ate at him a bit, made him uncomfortable. He was used to being uncomfortable though, this was decidedly on the lower end of the scale, alien as it was.

He heard her mumbling grace, and a small slap followed as Dan mumbled about why they were doing it without Stefan at the table.

It wasn't long after he was called to join them.

The dining table was set for three with blood sausage in the center. There were the potatoes and the Brussels sprouts, now slathered with even more brown sugar by the smell. A newly opened bottle of wine was in the center. He was sitting across from Clara, with the brother at the end of the table to his right.

"Have a seat Stefan, I've already said grace with Dan."

He nodded and did. His hand hovered over his fork to use as an extra serving tool but he frowned. It was slightly too shiny… and smelled spicy. Someone had rubbed an oil or juice on the handle. Not a problem in and of itself, unless one had a cut. …Or rubbed their eyes. Still, it was rather tame as pranks went, especially compared to- He pushed the thoughts away again.

He looked around and took a deep breath, the spicy scent was also coming from the man's coat hung on the chair. He could use that. If the man insisted on playing games, he would quickly realize he would lose. He accepted the potatoes and 'clumsily' spilled some butter on his fork handle as he served himself. He calmly took his napkin and wiped off the utensil.

"Exactly how much butter did you use, a stick?" He commented.

"Half. I was tempted to use more, but the other half was already in the brussel sprouts."

He noted the brother's half frown as he passed the sausage and accepted the potatoes. The sound of porcelain and metal filled the air for a few moments before everything settled into silence again.

"To new friends." Said Clara raising a glass. Snape cringed inwardly. He hated toasts. There was rarely anything worth toasting about. He'd make a toast when the Dark Lord fell if he was still alive, that was a worthy toast. Till then anything else seemed at risk of being far too temporary. He raised his glass nonetheless and clinked it with the others, barely holding back a grimace. Dan immediately speared a sausage and bit the entire thing in half.

"This blood sausage is top notch sis. Did you make it?" He said a mere half a second after swallowing.

"Yes. And I'm glad you like it considering I nearly died for it."

What?" Her brother asked cautiously and Snape paused with his, far more manageable, first bite halfway to his mouth.

Clara held up her hand and showed the bandage on the fleshy part of her thumb.

"I nearly had to go to the hospital. I accidentally cut myself on the sausage maker I borrowed from the neighbor. Whole mess. I swear that at least a third of the blood isn't pig."

"Ewwww gross!"

Snape however was regarding the sausage. It had smelled normal from afar, but it had been cooked so the smells may have been altered drastically. He took a sniff of it closer up.

His mouth immediately began to water. She had not been lying.

"C'mon don't tell me you're not grossed out!?"

Snape looked up from the sausage at her brother who was regarding him. Clara was too, with a rather satisfied smirk. He raised a brow.

"As long as sweat and tears did not also make it into the mix I'm sure it's fine. The recipe, despite the trio's propensity for being found together, only calls for one after all." He countered and placed the bit of sausage on his tongue. Her brother's wide eyes were quite satisfying, but the sausage was more so. It melted on his tongue and tasted of warm sourdough bread and cider next to the oats used to hold the sausage together. The other flavors the blood might have held had been pushed to the back amidst the spices and ingredients creating a very pleasant concoction. More than pleasant.

"Well, how is it?" Asked Clara, still sporting that self satisfied look. Why was she- right. Their bet. Honestly he was quite happy to lose if he got to eat this.

"Exquisite." He said smoothly with his own smirk before placing another piece on his tongue and letting it melt.

"Hear that Dan! It's exquisite!" She taunted with a pointed finger.

"Yeah yeah yeah." Her brother said begrudgingly but took another bite of his own sausage. "Make me eat something from a human for the second time."

That was odd enough to make Snape pause his own meal, which he was rather intent on.

"Second time?"

Dan frowned and speared a brussel sprout. "Don't want to talk about it."

"Milk is milk Dan."

Snape raised a brow. "Did you… trick your brother into…"

"Eating breast milk? Why yes. Yes I did." She said looking far too pleased with herself. "After years of getting my hair pulled it was just revenge." She said pointing her fork at Dan, who just grimaced.

"I see."

"There's a restaurant in London that-"

"He doesn't need the specifics, Clara."

"Oh, but I assure you, I would love to know what restaurant to avoid." Said Snape smoothly.

"It's in Covent Garden."

"Thank you. And what was the dish?"

"Ice cream."

"Considering the fat content in breast milk I suppose that makes sense."

Dan just shuddered and Snape managed to keep his smirk from widening.

Conversation continued to meander. Jobs, patrons, odd requests for drinks or carvings. Snape added a comment here or there about odd letters parents had sent or silly mandates by the board of governors. Complaints about out of date rules and lack of funding were universal after all. Eventually though Snape figured he had eaten a polite amount of the non blood sausage items, and a second helping of the delectable sausage.

"I would like some more ice I think. I'll get it myself Clara." He interjected as she stood. "It's just ice, besides, you wouldn't want to aggravate your war wound now would you?"

"It's justly earned!" She countered. Snape picked up his glass, knocking his fork onto the floor. He frowned, and put the glass down before snatching up the fork. Bent over he quickly nabbed the bottle of spicy oil from the pocket in the brother's jacket as he stood up. He palmed it into his sleeve and picked up his glass.

"Do you need a new fork Stefan?"

He shook his head."I'll take the defiled fork with me and wash it off."

Before anyone could reply he headed to the kitchen. Once there he turned on the sink and headed over to the freezer. Withdrawing his wand he muttered a spell to heat the tip of it and pushed holes into five ice cubes. Once satisfied they were deep enough he poured some of the oil into them. He then took some water from his glass and poured it over the holes before taking a few unblemished ice cubes and plopping them into his glass. He shoved the ice tray back in the freezer then spelled the fork clean of whatever dirt it had collected on the floor, turned off the water, and headed back into the dinning room after he sheathed his wand.

"Seriously, who pays attention to the light on a fork?"

"You're admitting you tampered with it?" He taunted back as he sat down.

"Maybe." Said Dan quickly.

"Either way, a teacher at a boarding school full of children with too much time is the answer to your question." He said as he patted Dan on the shoulder and let the vial drop into the pocket as he lowered his hand. Clara raised a brow at the voluntary physical contact but he just smiled slightly as he sat down. The rest of the dinner remained uneventful, filled with talk of sports Snape didn't care about, science that was slightly over his head that he was happy to have explained to him, and muggle'd down stories of idiot students attempting to prank him, not that there were many.

"I prefer all black, and for some reason that seems to make students think I'm a vampire. At least once a year someone attempts to shine some type of…"

"UV light?" Offered Clara helpfully.

"Yes, into my face. This is despite the fact that they see me outside for every football match the school insists I attend."

"Since when have rumors ever made sense?" Dan said with a shrug.

"True. I believe most politicians would be out of a job otherwise." Said Clara as she gathered dishes. Snape took them from her with a glare to her hand and her brother quickly took up the glasses before she could protest.

They tidied up and put the dishes in the sink. Dan took the remaining food and put it into various containers before placing it in the fridge. Clara just watched them like a hawk with a smirk.

"Dessert now or later?"

"Later I think." Said Dan. "Especially if it's ice cream."

"It's not." Said Clara heading to the tv room.

"I'll be a minute." Said Snape as he headed toward the restroom. He took care of business and spent a bit of time listening to make sure they were engrossed in conversation. He then quickly headed back to the kitchen.

Alone, there he opened the fridge and lifted up the milk to see how much was left. He smirked when he found it wasn't much. He poked a hole in the top of the carton with a nail and set it back down. He grabbed his glass of water and poured himself some more and added ice. He then put the tainted ice cubes in another glass and filled it with water as well. He closed the fridge and freezer, and brought both glasses with him.

He set down the tainted glass for Dan as he sat and nodded to Clara as she sipped from her own. She had had more than a bit of wine with dinner, and being an experienced bartender was obviously aware of how to avoid a hangover.

Snape sipped his water once before putting it down and smiled smugly at the memory of the last trick he had played involving drinks. He had gotten Minerva quite soundly… and she was demanding recompense. The brief smile vanished.

"What's that face for?" Asked Clara.

"Ah… A fellow teacher is rather annoyed that I beat her in a game of wits and has demanded a rematch with a game that is decidedly to her advantage."

"Oh? What game? How'd you beat her?"

"None of that is important. It's more that she has been trying to get me to play this game for years and has finally cornered me into playing."

"Is that… bad?" Asked Clara.

"It's annoying and she will probably encourage an audience."

"Aren't you used to that?"

Too used to it, performing in front of false allies was a type of stress he could do without. Performing in front of allies, unknowing or otherwise, was only slightly less stressful.

"I suppose. But I didn't agree to it."

"An unwilling thespian?" Poked Dan with a grin. "I would never have guessed."

"Just because one is good at something, does not mean one enjoys it."

"I suppose, but then why did you agree to teach the theatre program?"

"I get compensation for it." In the form of assuaging his guilt, but still. "Don't tell me you've never done something you were disinclined to do for pay?"

"I suppose. I mean, does anyone really want to work in retail?" Countered Dan.

"Very few, I think."

Conversation meandered once again, from politics, to children, to family, which Snape deftly sidestepped by saying his had all passed and he did not care to discuss them, which was true. They stopped briefly on religion, to which Snape just said it was a point of contention in his house and he himself was rather disinterested. Brother and sister both kindly moved on once again.

It was a rather odd dance, these social niceties that covered curiosity but made way for comfort instead of delving for blackmail material. A far cry from Death Eater parties where his every comment was dissected, and where he could send someone away with scathing remarks, or on occasion, scathing curses.

Eventually though, the time came when Dan took a drink after the ice had melted in his glass.

"Is… is it getting hot in here?" Asked the burly prankster.

"No." Said Snape calmly.

Dan fanned himself, his face slightly blotched and red. He took another sip and choked on the water.

"Holy… Spicy! Why… why is.. water spicy?"

"Possibly because I slipped some of your spicy oil into your ice cubes about three hours ago." Said Snape as he sipped his own drink.

"You… you… Ahhhh." Said Dan fanning his tongue as his eyes went wide in surprise for a brief moment before returning to the panic from before. He made quite a sight, fanning his tongue.

"I've heard milk helps." Offered Clara helpfully, but also not moving an inch. Dan jumped up and rushed to the kitchen while both Clara and Snape sat indifferently. They heard the chunk of the fridge opening and the desperate moving of items around.

"Aaauuugh! Why.. what?" Came the yell from the kitchen.

"What did you do?" Clara prodded verbally, amusement barely hiding under her concern.

"I feel rather insulted that you assume-"

"Stefan… What did you do?" Clara asked calmly, but her lips twitched upwards and Snape.

"Poked a hole in the milk carton."

"Oh god. That's his favorite shirt!" She said unable to keep the smile from her lips.

"Really? Pity."

Clara snorted lightly, unable to keep from laughing completely.

Dan finally came stomping back in, shirt wet from water and covered in bits of paper towel he'd obviously used to try and wet the milk before it set in and began to smell or stain. He glared at 'Stefan' and marched over to him. Snape sat still and calmly looked up at the man, ready to jump up and dodge if necessary. There was quiet for a few moments before Dan grinned and held out his hand.

Snape looked at it, a tad confused.

"You got me good."

Snape took the hand and allowed his to be shaken. There was no overly strong squeeze this time.

"I am not fond of being pranked, so I always give better than I get."

"Well, it's not like you can hand him detention." Said Clara leaning back now that the tension had dissipated.

Dan laughed. "Oh, that'd be a sight to see! I haven't written lines for ages." He said as he went back toward the kitchen. "I'm assuming the custard is dessert?"

Snape perked up at that. He'd seen the remnants in the fridge, he'd made quite a bit after all, but hadn't thought she'd be serving it.

"Well, I'd bought a pie but you're welcome to whichever. Stefan made the custard."

"I'm passing on dessert tonight, I'm still quite full, so indulge in whichever. Although I'd highly recommend the custard. I can admit a bit of pride in my ability over open flame." He usually didn't think of it in terms of cooking, but he would put himself on par with the house elves, maybe even Molly Weasley, at least from what he heard from her children, and what he confiscated from them when they insisted on eating it in the halls.

"Oh really, a man who can cook? And bake?" Said Dan amidst a clatter of dishes.

"And more." Said Clara. "If you're having the custard, bring me some too."

"Oh I'm having both. Chocolate and cherry pie? You're expecting me to choose?"

"Then bring me some of both."

"None for you Stefan? You sure?"

"Quite. I have enough at home."

"Not one for sweets?" Said Dan, entering and handing one plate to Clara.

"Not usually. Dark chocolate is the exception." He said watching as Dan scooped some of the custard onto a bite of pie before shiving the absurdly large bite into his mouth. The man's eyes lit up as he tasted the chocolate and swallowed.

"Oh, wow."

"Told you." Said Clara, already on her second bite.

"That is rich. What is in this?"

"Chocolate made with pig's blood." Said Clara beating Snape to the punch.

Dan spluttered then paused and shrugged. "It ain't human. I'm good."

At that Clara paused and looked at Snape who smirked and shook his head slightly. She continued to stare and he raised a brow. She looked down at her cut wrist, glanced at a book on the side table that hadn't been there before and then back at the chocolate. From where he was sitting the title was too battered from a creased spine to read, but the name Anne Rice was quite visible. Ah. He remembered confiscating a book by that author from a Muggle born. Research. Or what could amount to it with no facts. His smirk shifted into an amused smile and Clara blushed, but the trepidation, or curiosity, in her eyes remained.

They chatted until dessert was wonderfully gone, and how serendipitous was that. He had a brief thought about giving the recipe to the house elves along with a pint of his blood. Maybe the students would actually listen to him for once. He shook his head mentally. That would be far too many to spread his control over, no idea what spreading it so thin would do, namely if he could. But still, it was an amusing thought.

Perhaps to just the teachers? He pushed the idea away to think on later. He watched as Dan hugged Clara before turning to him.

"Well, you got me."

"I'm glad you're aware of the fact." He said half bored, very ready for the evening to be over and leave himself. He'd had enough social interaction for the evening.

Dan laughed and held out his hand, which Snape begrudgingly took and shook once before letting go. He followed Dan to the door with Clara close behind.

"Can I have my bag back now sis?"

"No."

"My wallet's in there, do you want you dear brother to get ares-'

"Fine." She said as she went to grab it from the closet where she had stashed it behind some coats.

Dan took the moment to look at Snape pointedly. He returned the gaze with one of indifference. "Treat her right."

He was tempted to sneer at the antiquated phrase but instead just nodded. Clara returned before he could reply with anything too scathing anyway.

"Here you are, brother mine, your tools of war."

"Thank you sister mine, for that and dinner." He said as he walked down the front steps. Clara waved at him as he stood by his car.

"Bye! See you soon!"

"Do you want me to come back up now? We could-"

"GoodBye!" She said as Snape smirked. She rather enjoyed being blunt it seemed. She closed the door and exhaled, leaning against it.

"Well, that was an interesting… dinner. I-"

His words were surprisingly cut off, by her mouth. She kissed him, hard, holding the back of his head and smashing her lips awkwardly into his before jumping back and laughing.

"Oh THANK YOU! Did you see his face! Yes! Ha! Brilliant! He has scared most of my fucking boyfriends away and over half of my male friends! All the ones with benefits too! Asshole! And you!" She pointed at Snape and grinned, he responded with a raised brow not really knowing what else to do and a bit stunned. "You fucking pranked him before he could get you! He actually respects you! Oh I could kiss you!"

"I believe you already did." He countered, still a bit dazed.

She smirked impishly. "Well I'll do it again!" And her lips were back on his before he could protest. They were soft, her tongue flicked out once, asking, searching. He was sorely tempted to let it, despite his self recrimination earlier. Damn his body; starved for physical touch its wants were far too strong for his taste, he could feel heat pooling where he didn't want it to. This wasn't right. She didn't know what he was, what he had done, did… was going to do. She wasn't…He pulled away.

Her eyes were too calm, too trusting. It made him feel ill that eyes were looking at him in such a way now when he'd longed for it ages ago. Now… it felt too late. He pushed her off him.

She stepped back, a bit startled.

"Oh… Did I… presume too much?"

"You did." He said, voice monotone.

She glanced down at his body briefly, at the reactions it was having, and then back to his eyes. There was silence, the emptiness of air waiting for thunder after lightning had struck and demolished normalcy.

Then she nodded. "I understand."

He scowled. "You do not." He said coldly, the fury barely held back behind the dismissive words.

"Understand your experience? No, of course not. But don't you think I may have an inkling of what you're going through?" She said, firing back verbally, and then physically by holding up a hand with a rather beautiful ring with a blue stone. The stone was carved into an oval, and was entwined with another metal, two rings made into one. On her right hand…

Snape looked at the ring. She was alone, she had lost someone too. However…"How did he die?"

"An elephant spooked and his spine was crushed. But if that hadn't killed him, the cancer would have. He would have preferred to go the way he di-"

But Snape wasn't listening. Such a… normal death. One she had no hand in. To stand by and be able to do nothing was torture, he knew that already, but to have an active hand in it?

"You know nothing of what I've been through. Do not presume to understand-"

"Oh get over yourself. However bad it was I'm sure-"

He snarled, angry at her assumptions and her prodding. "Sure what? That you can relate? I-"

"If you don't tell me, of course I can't!" She snapped back at him.

He froze. How could he tell anyone of that shame? It already hurt that Dumbledore knew. The man used it to manipulate him. How could he tell anyone else and risk that again? And... How dare she? How dare she assume that she had a right to know such a thing?

He dusted off a sleeve and looked at her coldly before turning on the spot, intent on vanishing.

But not before he felt a hand tug on his wrist.

(Sorry it took so long for this one. Been busy. Also, KI'm looking for a beta reader to help with over arching story elements, flow, ideas, character correction, etc. If that interests you, message me.)