Work Text:
Gift for: as part of the Be My Vampentine exchange for
Original request: Special requests: Bondage, Blood Play, Stalking, Neck Sniffing
Embracing Death
I'm sorry I can't be there when you wake up, but the healers suggested I stay away until you are more comfortable with your transformation. To be honest, they recommend that we never occupy the same room again, considering the nature of vampires and werewolves, but I hope that given time, we can see each other again.
Their compromise was allowing me to leave this letter for you, and the possibility of Floo conversations in the future. I suppose we'll have to humour them with good behaviour for now, won't we?
The healers have asked me to communicate their regrets for sedating you before having you moved to Grimmauld Place, and would like to you notify the Hospital if you need any assistance, other than the 'nutrients' they'll be sending.
That out of the way, I want you to know how deeply sorry I am that the reversal failed, but at the same time, incredibly grateful that we didn't lose you.
I also know you'll want to blame yourself for what happened with Severus, but there was nothing you could have done to prevent it, and because of your sacrifice, the war is over, Harry, and I've never been more proud of you.
Please write soon,
Remus
~*~
"You look appalling, Potter," Snape observed, lowering his quill.
"Sorry. Mirrors don't exactly work for me any more," Harry mumbled flatly, sinking down onto the dusty sofa. He unconsciously ran a hand through his hair. "And I'm dead, so it doesn't really matter, does it? Not like I'll be hosting tea any time soon."
"Undead," Severus corrected. "Why didn't you return to your human state within the six hour limit?"
Harry rubbed at his eyes, answering with a sigh. "Time got away from me."
He toed off his shoes and let his head fall back against the antique couch. His weary eyes wandered over the ceiling, mapping out the shadows that played between the swirls of manipulated plaster. There was one pattern in the corner that looked like one of Fred and George's Catherine wheel fireworks, and another, just to the right of it, in the shape of a palm tree. He stared until his eyes relaxed enough to make a blurry wash out of the whole busy mess.
He was tired – more tired than he ever remembered being, but he couldn't rest in his room: too much space, too little noise.
Snape pressed his palms onto the surface of his desk, half-lifting himself out of his chair. "What do you call this room?"
Harry stretched out along the cushions and turned toward him. "Um, I guess it could be a study, but I'm not sure what they used it for in the past – Sirius' family, I mean. It's the only room in the house without windows, except the ones in the basement, and I didn't really want…"
"Ah. Understandable."
In honesty, the only dungeons he'd ever felt comfortable spending any amount of time in were the ones at Hogwarts, but he could never go back there now. He'd visit, but only in his memories.
He closed his eyes and remembered the summer after his sixth year, when Minerva had convinced him to move back into the castle so he would have access to its many resources. He guessed that she also wanted to keep an eye on him, but he never mentioned hidden motives to her during their frequent meetings, and she never confessed to any.
An image surfaced of one of his many secret trips down to the dungeons to visit Severus.
A good two inches of trouser leg was annoyingly visible between the floor and Harry's invisibility cloak, unless he walked slightly hunched down. He remembered being hopeful that the war would soon be over, bringing with it the end of constantly having to hide and Occlude every detail of their relationship from both enemies and friends.
What had started out as several violent shouting matches after Snape's name had been cleared, had turned into mumbled, half-civil strategy discussions, renewed Occlumency lessons, and eventually a Firewhiskey challenge that resulted in some very private instruction on proper flirting and finger-licking techniques.
The wood of the door in his memory warmed under his palm, and swung open silently, just wide enough for him to slide into Snape's quarters.
Once Harry was in the room, and the door locked once more, Severus would wave a hand, lifting the invisibility cloak off and away to hang on an empty hook of the ebony coat rack.
The slide of the fabric always left Harry's mop of black hair in worse condition than its normal chaotic appearance, but once he'd settled on his knees in front of Severus' favourite chair, stained fingers would wander through the mess, smoothing it into relative submission before a firm tug told Harry to get up and receive the good-night kiss that usually took several hours to administer.
Harry ran a hand through his own hair, trying to hold onto the image a few minutes longer, but it faded, as always.
"Should have just told everyone we were together, for all the good sneaking around did us." Harry muttered to himself.
Snape sat up straighter in his chair. "Has someone confronted you?"
Harry stared back, searching Severus' eyes for... "You don't remember?"
"Nothing from after your transformation. That moment I would gladly forget if I had the option," he admitted quietly, regret heavy in his tone.
Harry wiped away a tear he could feel making its way down his cheek and hoped Severus hadn't noticed. He sat up. "I couldn't have gone through with it if you hadn't been there," he whispered, lowering his head. "I wasn't brave at all. I've never been so scared in my life, but I guess you knew that."
"Courage wears many faces."
Harry silently nodded, and then looked away.
Another memory swam up to meet him, but this time there were voices along with the images: final words, wishes and few tears. Harry remembered that his replies had been short and that his trembling hands were pushed deep down into his pockets.
The Aurors filed by, a slow parade to the door, with the rest of the Order following. Last was Minerva, who shook slightly as she hugged him.
When the door clicked shut, Harry removed his outer robe and the thin t-shirt beneath it.
Severus stood close beside him, allowed to stay on as the 'impartial party', the one responsible for making sure both Harry and Sanguini completed their portion of the agreement, but Harry was glad for his presence. If anything went wrong, Severus knew what to do.
Sanguini droned out the stages of the 'procedure' one final time, but Harry's mind pushed the warm voice off to the side somewhere, and sharpened his focus in on the only two things that mattered to him: completing his task, and returning – whole - to Severus.
After the initial shock of pain from the bite, an unsettling awkwardness filled the next few minutes. Harry and Severus locked gazes as the vampire sucked his life away. It felt wrong, terrifying and unnerving, and yet to pull away would mean failure – defeat, so he endured the screams of his heart, and the silent pain and regret reflected in his lover's eyes.
Sanguini made no remark when Harry's hand shot out to grab Severus' as the final moments closed in. Everything burned, stung, ached, blurred, and finally melted into numbness.
The last thing he heard was Severus' voice, but the words were distant – lost.
He then remembered waking up in the forest, shivering, aching, and starving. Sanguini waited near a small pile of dead rabbits, holding a warm cloak and a golden goblet filled with blood. A conjured map of Lestrange Manor shimmered in the air above his head. Harry patted the ground for his glasses until he realized he could see the map's details without them.
Harry was pulled out of the memory at the insistent growling of his stomach. He was met with raised eyebrows when he finally looked up at Severus again. "I'm fine," he lied.
Severus ignored the comment. "I miss having access to your thoughts."
Harry gave a short laugh, but his heart was aching more than ever. "Just thinking about that night."
"Will you tell me?"
No, he thought, mentally kicking himself for even mentioning it.
He reasoned that there must be a very good reason why Severus didn't remember, and perhaps it was nature's way of telling them it was better to let the past rest. But as he watched his lover patiently waiting, Harry knew that silence wasn't an option.
He couldn't deny Severus anything.
Harry nodded and began, "Sanguini had different information about which room Voldemort was in, but I followed what you told me, and you were right. The wards were strong, but there was no one else in that part of the house to stop me, so I had some time to dismantle them."
"One of the combinations we discussed?"
"Yeah, and one other with Dragon's blood that I think someone else must have cast, because it didn't merge with the first set."
Snape took a moment to write the information down. "Go on."
"Um, it was strange when I got into the room, him laying there, like someone normal would do, someone sick or sleeping. He didn't even get up when I hexed Nagini."
Severus nodded and took down a few more notes.
"His wand flew into my hand, I snapped it, and then we were fighting, wrestling – almost no magic. You were right about him being weak – as if the last Horcrux we destroyed drained what was left of his strength. When I took his blood, the rest of his magic and soul seemed to drain away with it - and then he was dead."
Even as he spoke the words, Harry searched for emotions that were supposed to accompany the violence he was revisiting, and yet the only exhaustion and a chilling emptiness rose to the call.
"I hexed as many as I could on the way out, but there were a few Death Eaters who ran for the grounds once they realised someone had collapsed the anti-Apparation net over the house."
Harry turned his hand palm up, whispering two words, and a nearly-full whiskey glass appeared in the center. He lifted it free with his other hand and drank down half the contents before continuing.
"Outside, everyone was fighting, but it seemed like there were more of us than them – we were winning. I saw you and Sanguini by the woods fighting two Death Eaters, but then in the next moment you were gone."
He paused long enough to pour more Firewhiskey down his throat. It was one of the only things that warmed him from the inside anymore. It didn't wash away anything he wanted to forget, but it at least blurred the jagged edges of unrelenting memories, and in the right quantities, allowed him to fall into a few hours of blissful denial.
When the last drop fell from the upturned glass onto his waiting tongue, Harry pressed the edge of the crystal to his bottom lip.
"I searched for you..." His voice echoed around the inside of his glass, as if answering the hollowness within.
"What happened? Was I captured?" Severus asked without emotion.
Harry nodded. "Sanguini, he was never on our side..." Harry looked up hopefully. "Do you remember?" he asked again.
Severus sat silently for a few moments, closing his eyes in concentration. When his gaze was once again locked with Harry's, he shook his head a fraction. "Nothing, but I'm sure I made them work for their prize. What were the terms?"
Harry swallowed the tightness that was building in his throat. "I had an hour left before I wouldn't be able to reject permanent vampire transformation. They wanted me to let the time lapse, and then bring Voldemort back – turn him."
"Their Lord would return to them – in some form, and you'd remain a dark creature."
Harry nodded. "They wanted to set up a trade – you for him, and once they had proof he was 'alive' again, they would release you."
"They should have used Sanguini to revive the Dark Lord. Why would they bother with the illusion of a trade at all?" Severus asked, tucking a strand of his hair back behind his ear.
Harry wordlessly refilled his glass, and inhaled the scent of the drink before trying to take it all down in one swallow. He managed, but quickly regretted the eye-watering burn that followed. Once the sting subsided, he made a confession to the bottom of his glass.
"They wanted me to be responsible for failing - wanted everyone to blame me for not winning, not protecting them."
Severus made another note, and then set down his quill. "What did you do with his body?"
Harry set the glass down, and rubbed the tightness building at the back of his neck, feeling his energy draining away. "After we fought, I covered him with a containment dome on the floor, turned him to ash, and banished the remains to seven different oceans."
Snape gave a single nod of approval. "Why did the Death Eaters believe he was still in your possession?"
"I dragged a body out of the house – Draco's. He was unconscious on the main stairs and I nearly fell over him on my way out. His hood was pulled up, so the Death Eaters only saw his hands and thought that he..." Harry let the sentence fade, and closed his eyes, hoping the interrogation was coming to a close.
There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Severus, but he wished this conversation could happen later, when there would be more distance between events, and he would have time to build up the strength he didn't have at the moment.
For some reason the formal statements Harry had been ordered to send to the Ministry two days ago had been easy to write. He closed off his emotions, wrote, sealed the documents, and his part was done.
The emotional numbness and shock had worn off since then.
He slumped forward until his head rested on his knees, arms hanging limp to the floor. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions, but it kept him from looking at Severus, and it felt good to pretend he was a boneless, weightless creature that could sink into the floor and hide somewhere in the empty dark space before emerging through the ceiling of the room below.
"I apologise."
"Wafor?" Harry mumbled into the fabric of his trousers.
"For allowing myself to be captured, leaving you to make decisions you shouldn't have had to make alone, and for..."
Harry lifted his head. "No, it's not your fault. You tried to escape - tried to get back to..." He bit his lip, forcing himself not to say anything more.
Severus exhaled. "I...I don't remember."
"I know." Harry smiled softly. "It's all right."
Another wave of exhaustion settled over him. Perhaps it was for the best, since it gave him the opportunity to avoid telling the end of the story, and allowed him to keep his grief to himself.
He moved into a better position stretching out again along the cushions, and traced his finger over a few of the fabric flowers before closing his eyes.
It wasn't sleep, but it was enough to allow his mind to take him back to a more pleasant memory.
Fingers played over Harry's chest, stepping up the ladder of his ribs. He hummed happily at the sensation, and let his head fall back onto the pillows of Severus' bed.
"More food, and fewer sweets from now on, Potter. Is that understood?"
Harry tried to memorise the feel of Severus' skin on his own, the playful command from thin lips, and the brush of long hair against his nipples, while at the same time reminding himself to continue breathing, and answer his lover.
"Yes, Sir."
It had taken Snape several months to convince Harry to give bondage a try, but as Severus caressed him with one hand, and fed him cheese and fruit with the other, Harry found nothing left about being restrained that filled him with fear any longer.
The re-occurring graveyard nightmare had been put to sleep, and replaced by something enjoyable - something Harry would practice his Occlumency for, to keep their memories only for them.
He curled his fingers around the ropes that kept his wrists in place above his head. He loved the soft slip of the braided yarn when he tugged it forward, and how it always felt satiny and cool, no matter how high his temperature soared.
Severus dipped a slice of apple into a bowl of sweet cream and waited until Harry's mouth opened in obedience before placing the treat onto his tongue. Harry chewed and slowly stretched, sliding his knees up as far as the small chain that separated his leather-cuffed ankles would allow.
Severus watched with eager eyes. "What a picture you make."
Harry smiled seductively, or at least he tried. "You've got cream on your fingers."
Without warning, two fingers slid into his mouth, quickly followed by the two that entered him from below. Seconds later, the fingers were joined by a hot, wet mouth sealing around...
Harry froze with the sudden breach, overcome with too many sensations at once, but his body soon took over, sucking, clutching, and thrusting up as best he could in his position.
He fought to keep his eyes open, but they closed in ecstasy when he caught sight of Severus' fingers entering him through the curtain of dark hair that swept over his hips and down in between his legs.
Severus, all from Severus.
And no one could ever know.
When the image melted away, his eyes opened, and he found himself looking into a concerned gaze once more.
"Fan mail?" Severus baited, nodding at the crushed parchment lying on the tea table in front of the sofa, and at the neatly stacked pile of letters beside it.
Harry took a moment to stretch, but left the papers where they were, ignoring Severus' attempt to pull him out of his reflection. "Oh, nothing important," he said, gesturing at the one he'd crumpled. "I just have to report to the Ministry, once they find a way to make me safe. For now, they're having donated blood delivered twice a day."
"Ridiculous," Snape scoffed. "You're perfectly safe."
"Thank you," Harry said with a half-smile.
"And the other letters?"
The smile fell away as Harry answered. "From Remus."
"Does he have a similar collection?"
"No, I haven't...I want to, but just don't feel up to it yet." He rubbed his eyes in frustration. "I know I should, he's been so nice, but if we never get to see each other again, maybe it's better if I don't write him back."
"Flawless logic."
Harry glared, but there was no fire behind it. "Look, I don't know what to do," he said, taking a moment to sort out his existing options. "I've been thinking of just hanging out here for a while. If I go back, everyone will want everything to be the way it was, and it's not. It can't be that way anymore."
He stopped himself before emotion got the better of him. But as he waited for Severus to start up any number of speeches on the 'idiocy of his hasty decision', he couldn't help but notice the silence that had slowly filled the room.
When he chanced a look up, Severus was writing something in his journal, his face calm and focused on his work, as if Harry hadn't just vented his thoughts in a rant moments before.
"How…how do you feel?" Harry asked quietly.
Severus paused his writing, and offered up a half-smile that always caused Harry's heart to warm, regardless if it was still beating or not.
"Comfortable."
Harry stood and took a step closer. "Really?"
"Yes, all things considered."
Silence fell between them again, broken only by the howl of wind through the chimney. Harry stared at the fading embers, trailing his hand over the warm brick above the mantle.
"What are my options?" he whispered, slightly startled when Severus' answer came so quickly.
"Live."
"Funny," Harry said flatly.
The legs of Snape's chair scraped the polished floor as he stood. "The war is over, and I believe we've clearly established that you are not dead. Go, do whatever it is that twenty-two year old war veterans do to amuse themselves, and let me get some rest."
Harry just stared back. The words stung worse than a physical blow.
The growing ache in his chest became painful as he searched for the right words, battling past the emotions he didn't want to confront.
"I don't want – not without... I'm not ready!" he pushed out the words, wishing he didn't sound so pathetic.
Severus softened his tone, "Not yet, but perhaps soon."
Harry shook his head in disbelief as his grief and guilt broke down every barrier he half-heartedly threw at them. "How can you say that? I have nothing left!"
"You have two options: live as best you can, or end it," Severus snapped, his face the perfect example of how a strong man held his emotions.
Harry crossed the room until he was close enough to see Severus clearly through the tears that were pooling. His voice shook, "Are you saying that you want - because I will if you..."
"Salazar's forked tongue, Harry, you should have peace, find fulfillment. Whatever will help you achieve that is what you should do! I refuse to make that choice for you."
Harry dropped to his knees before the man he loved and let the tears come. He had never felt so hollow, so far away from the things Severus wanted for him. He even released a bitter laugh at the bizarre thought of a dark creature ever finding peace.
Years of keeping their relationship a secret had taken its toll, but Harry had survived the nights Severus was 'called away', and the long days of endless training and Horcrux hunting, because he believed the war was ending, trusted that soon they'd be able to uncover everything – finally be free.
But there would be no future for them – no fairy-tale ending for the tragic hero and the hardened spy.
The fight ran out of Harry just as his fatigue made itself known again.
He lifted his head slowly, and looked into apprehensive eyes, sliding his pale fingers up the wall until they brushed the simple ebony frame surrounding Severus' portrait.
"God, I miss you," he whispered, hardly louder than a sigh. A few deep breaths slowed his tears, and the back of his hand drove them away.
Severus moved to the front of the painting, lowering himself to his knees, as close to Harry as he could manage.
"Even if I knew the outcome would be the same, I would still choose what little time we had over a lifetime without."
Unable to speak, Harry nodded once as the tears flowed again.
"I truly care for you, Harry, but I refuse to spend eternity watching you waste the life you have left."
Harry swallowed and managed a half-smile. There was so much he wanted to say, but he was still unable to form the words.
He found himself foolishly wishing he could turn back time, just once more, but he knew time wasn't the problem. Both of them would have plenty of that now, just not in the way they could have predicted.
~*~
At the sound of the door, Severus closed the book he'd been reading. "How was it?"
"Strange," Harry answered with a sigh as he flung off his cloak and settled in on the settee. "Everyone was acting the way I thought they would, as if nothing's changed, like I'm not different. If it hadn't been for Remus..."
"Who's making his Wolfsbane?"
Harry stopped pounding the lump out of the cushion he was leaning against and stared at Severus for a moment before answering.
"He asked if I would make the next batch for him, actually."
Severus tilted his chin down as his eyebrows rose. "Ready to leave this world already, is he?"
Harry's laughter warmed the room. "Ah yes, supportive and nurturing - that's why I fell in love with you."
"I'd always assumed it was because you couldn't find anyone else to endure your effrontery," Severus returned, delivering the line flawlessly with half-smirk playing on his lips.
"Oh, now I remember," Harry added with a hand thrown dramatically over his heart. "I fell for your carefree spirit." He smiled and kicked off his shoes, watching Severus roll his eyes in exasperation.
He missed the easiness between them - the 'communication through nearly-harmless verbal combat' that no one else would ever understand. Sometimes he loved having Severus near enough to talk with him whenever he wanted to, and yet, it was a constant reminder of what he'd lost.
At first, Harry hadn't been sure what to expect from a portrait, so he had waited a few days, given himself some time to mourn before saying the spell that allowed the paint to 'come to life'.
Breaking into Harry's thoughts, Severus asked, "Why did Lupin ask you?"
"The Wolfsbane? I don't know. He acted like he knew you had been teaching me to brew it - before..."
"Was he not satisfied with Horace's concoction?" Severus asked, flipping open his journal and uncapping his bottle of red ink.
"Uh, Horace was hit with Reducto in the last battle – through the heart, so there was nothing..."
"The point, Potter."
Harry gave his head a shake to pull his mind away from the images of Horace being carried past him. "Remus went without last month," he answered quietly.
"Unacceptable. Can you get the supplies we need?" Severus snapped his book shut, pushed his chair back, and stood with a determination that worried Harry.
"Yes, but - I already told him no," Harry answered cautiously.
Severus fixed him with a steady gaze. "Do I want to know why?"
Harry shrugged, slowly lowering his gaze to the hearth.
Severus' voice softened, "How did he treat you during the meeting?"
"Fine," he answered, banishing the ash away from the base of the fireplace.
"You said he behaved differently from the others."
"Oh, that. He was great, the same as always, even forgave me for not returning his letters, and invited me to talk with him about..." he gestured down his body. "What I'm going through – even after I said I wouldn't make his potion."
Severus moved to the sitting area by his painted fire, and settled into a dark green high-back.
"Why did you refuse?" he asked, resting his hands in his lap
Harry got up and started pacing in front of the real fire. "I don't think anything bad would happen, but I felt like I... He made me – itchy. I couldn't sit still when he got close." Harry reached around and pulled at the hair at the base of his neck. "I felt like I had a fever – couldn't trust my body not to react somehow. It wasn't as bad as we thought it would be, and I'm glad for that, but..."
Severus nodded. "The vampire is responding to the werewolf."
Harry looked at Severus and then back to the fire. "Yeah, it was good to see him, but I knew I shouldn't be the one brewing for him. Too much of a risk."
Harry's hand gave up on the hair tugging, and began absentmindedly rubbing at the tight muscles in his jaw. He flicked the other one toward the dying fire, and it leapt in gratitude for the added fuel.
It still felt odd not to have his wand, but when it exploded on the first spell he tried after killing Voldemort, he realised hand-casting might be a better option. He was uneasy with the added power, not knowing whether it came from the vampire transformation or from the former Dark Lord, but when he made peace with the fact it was staying, regardless of where it came from, wandless spells felt the same as Harry's first time on a broom. Natural. Freeing.
"Very well," Snape said, breaking the silence. "Tomorrow you will acquire what we need for making Wolfsbane."
It took Harry a minute to process the words, but then he spun to face Snape, wearing a half-startled expression.
"Wait - what?"
~*~
Harry had never felt worse, physically. It might have been normal for all he knew, but his common sense was telling him that something was very wrong – other than the obvious wrongness of being Undead.
They tried varying the blood types, after Minerva noticed Harry's greying skin and thin frame, suggesting that he might be intolerant to a certain type. When that didn’t stop the vomiting and the uncomfortable headaches, one of St Mungo's young researchers suggested Harry try sterilized animal blood, but it tasted terrible, and did even less to satisfy his hunger than his regular sources.
"Ashwinder eggs? When did I write that down?" Harry mumbled to himself, flipping through their most recent batch of Wolfsbane notes, ignoring the rumble of hunger from deep in his chest. "Hold on, don't tell me."
He gave up on the ledger and summoned the glossary he'd left on the side table the night before. "Oh yeah, Ashwinder eggs – component sometimes used in love potions – got it! He continued writing. "When added to the Wolfsbane, there's a good chance that Remus will embrace the transformation into Werewolf form instead of rejecting it, making the change easier on his body, and less painful." He smiled down at his work. "Brilliant! Do you think it'll work?"
After a long moment had gone by with no response from Severus, Harry looked up.
The portrait was empty.
~*~
"Potter?"
Harry froze, one hand holding the bottle of Wolfsbane out to the last person he expected to see answering the door of Remus' cottage.
"Malfoy. Um, Hullo. I – I was just..." He gave the bottle in his hand a little shake. "For Remus."
"Well, obviously. Are you coming in, or not?" Draco asked, swinging open the door and taking a forced-polite step back.
Harry stumbled in, uncertain if he should risk it, considering how ill he'd been. "Er, why are you here?" He shook his head at Malfoy's raised eyebrows, and began again. "Sorry. I mean, are you - visiting?"
Despite his turnabout and dangerous work as a spy for them during the war, the Ministry had left Draco with little more than his 'freedom'. The bulk of the Malfoy estate had been either auctioned off or seized for reasons of 'suspicion', and three quarters of Draco's inheritance had been 'redistributed' – as payment for taking the Mark.
Last time they had been together, Draco was unconscious, and Harry had dropped him the moment Severus vanished. Before that, they had seen glimpses of each other as they came and went from Severus' company and various Order meetings, but had never really worked too closely on any given project, even though most of the spark had faded from their childhood rivalry. No one had much time for hate any longer.
Harry took a moment to really look at Malfoy.
His skin was nearly as pale as Harry's. His hair curled around the bottom of his ears and had lost its youthful sheen. It was in his eyes that Harry noticed the most change – the passion, arrogance – whatever it was that had made them shine like fire when they were younger - had dimmed.
A shadow crossed his face. "Now that my mother's dead, the Ministry's seen fit to search the Manor again..." Draco stopped himself, changing gears mid sentence. "I was with Lupin when the owl came," he said, sweeping his hand to indicate the small dwelling. "He offered temporary logging."
"Oh, well, he didn't mention that in his letters..." Harry mentally berated himself for his top notch conversation skills, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about your mother."
Draco nodded once, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Um, Is Remus here?"
It was a stupid question, since Harry immediately seemed to know the answer, and in turn, regretted asking. He even knew which direction to start the hunt, since he could practically see Remus' scent, it called to him so strongly, and promised a thousand scenarios that leapt immediately to mind and caused the hair on his arms and at the back of his neck to rise to attention.
Suddenly, his conversation with Draco became secondary to what his aching gums and churning stomach were trying to communicate. It was like the light had been switched on, and the monster in Harry was awake and drooling for a meal.
"Potter, your eyes..."
Harry's gaze narrowed, focusing in on the suddenly alluring voice, and on the body who owned it. Harry couldn't hold off the moan that escaped his mouth at the promise of feeding. He wanted to find the wolf, but the body in front of him would satisfy until then.
Draco took a step back, wearing an expression that sat somewhere between puzzlement and concern. "Are you ill?"
One very fuzzy and distant part of Harry's mind was insisting that he go back out the open door behind him before he lost control, but his instincts had been suppressed for too long. They promptly told the voice of reason to take a stroll off the nearest cliff. His hunger sprang to life, wanting nothing more than the short, yet gratifying hunt it sensed was due.
The nearly-forgotten Wolfsbane sloshed around in its bottle as Harry's hands began to itch and shake.
Draco gave a gasp of surprise as Harry moved suddenly forward and pressed the potion into one of his hands. From there, he couldn't resist grabbing a fistful of blond hair, or pressing his nose up against Malfoy's soft neck.
Harry inhaled, humming with pleasure as the artery pushed out to meet him. Draco seemed to become a rag doll in his arms, his head falling back with the slightest tug from Harry's fingers.
Even during the meetings he'd attended in the past few weeks, he'd never felt anything close to losing control, although with his failing health, his dreams had become filled with various hunting and feeding fantasies that often haunted him during the day.
He'd never fed from anyone except Voldemort since becoming a vampire, and although his mind was trying to remind him that Draco hadn't given his permission, his body insisted that if he didn't feed soon, he would be more than sorry.
Overcome with a painful mix of indecision and compulsion, Harry pulled Malfoy closer, still rubbing his nose and lips over the flushed skin. His swirling mind tried to convince him to just have a taste. His fangs burned as they extended, and Harry's tongue pushed past them to stroke the place on Malfoy's neck he instinctively knew would bring the most blood to his lips.
Draco stiffened. Harry was so focused on the rhythm of Draco's panicked breathing and pounding heart that he barely heard Malfoy call out for Remus.
Suddenly the Werewolf's scent and suppressed power filled the room. It seduced Harry's blood-narrowed mind, but he wasn't fool enough to throw aside the meal he'd so easily caught.
"Harry? Harry!"
The voice was familiar, and yet seemed a world away.
He raised his eyes and was overcome by the aura of dark and light magic surrounding the man who had just entered the room. It swirled and danced around him, calling to the same power Harry could feel pouring from himself.
The pull was intoxicating, and yet he was still unwilling to release the squirming treat in his arms. A smile slowly crept onto his lips.
He had time for both.
"This one first!" he growled over Malfoy's shoulder.
His prey resumed the struggle, and Harry released a hiss of annoyance.
"Potter, please. Not like this!"
"Impedimenta!"
A cry of frustration escaped from somewhere deep in Harry's chest, and in an instant, he was alone on the other side of the cottage door, swearing into the darkness – consumed with rage and an excruciating hunger that played no favourites.
He collapsed into the snow, shaking violently.
"Harry, can you Apparate back home?" Remus called through the window.
Before he had time to consider the situation, his own voice responded, "I think so."
"Good. Go. We'll find a way to help you."
~*~
"Severus!" Harry yelled, trying in vain to control the tremors rushing through his body.
There was no reply.
He stumbled forward in the dark, knocking into the sofa, and then into the low table in front of it. He arrived at the far wall, grabbed the frame and thrust his face close enough to smudge the painted edge of Snape's desk.
"God, where are..." His voice failed him, choked off with emotion. "I need you," he whispered, sounding pathetically pitiful for a dangerous dark creature.
The portrait remained vacant.
The rush of power from the promise of Malfoy's blood drained away swiftly, and left only the insistent craving. He sank to the floor and curled in on himself, trying not to cry out in agony.
Through a tangle of conflicting emotions, he choked out a cold laugh at his situation. He'd Apparated under the thrall of a feeding haze, attacked Malfoy, been cursed by Remus, and finally been abandoned by Severus.
He cursed himself for not ending it weeks ago when his transformation was still new, instead of allowing Severus to trick him into believing he could find peace again.
"Get up!"
Harry recoiled from the angry voice – convinced that his mind was playing with him.
"Why didn't you tell me it had come to this?"
He rested his head on his knees and spoke into the folds of fabric. "I didn't know how bad... Sick, I thought..." He hoped that would be a good enough answer for the Severus in his head. He was tired, confused, and in too much pain to offer anything more concise.
The room grew quiet again.
He hoped he was dying, and that he wouldn't mess it up somehow – and that Severus would forgive him eventually.
"Sorry," he whispered to the darkness, feeling his strength flicker and fade like unfed coals.
After a long while Severus' voice returned. "Harry, when the door opens, stay still."
"Still..." Harry mumbled, closing his eyes completely, allowing the heavy pull of sleep take him. "...still love you, Severus."
~*~
He dreamt of the night things changed between them – the moment he knew what he felt was more than hormones, more than physical chemistry.
He could feel again the heat from the fire and smell the salty-sweet aroma of their sweat heavy in the air, hear the close rasp of Severus' hitched breaths, feel the contours of skin, muscle and bone as they moved together with practiced rhythm.
One simple thought scrolled over and over in Harry's mind as they touched and claimed: he felt whole when they were together. He'd never felt that way with anyone else – no one except Severus matched, fit, knew what he was going through. Nobody could make him feel as much - hurt as much.
His dream-self came, biting down on the silk gag, and sliding his fingers over his lover's slick, imperfect skin. Severus rocked him a few more times before finding his release as well, holding Harry close, and kissing his eyelids gently. Possessing him completely.
As they lay silent afterward, the cool air quickly chilled their skin. Harry pulled the covers over them as Severus brushed Harry's damp fringe from his forehead, removed the soaked strip of silk from Harry's mouth, and reached for one of their abandoned wine glasses.
"Drink," he urged, tipping the rim against Harry's waiting lips.
He drank deeply and allowed the scent and flavour to be his only focus. Strong hands held his head at the right angle, and soft, caring words swam around him, leaving a feeling of security, a sense of peace, contentment.
"God, Remus. More!" his dream-self pleaded.
Harry's eyes flew open.
--
The room came back into focus as a glass was removed from his lips. His shaking had lessened, but his thirst still remained.
"Feeling better?" Remus asked, getting to his feet, and offering a hand.
Harry took it, but instead of allowing Remus to help him up, he pulled until his startled friend was straddling his lap, and his mouth was a breath away. Harry quickly brushed his wet lips over Remus' own, and then moved back slightly, touching pale fingertips to Remus' unshaven chin. "Hungry," he said, eyeing the smear of blood colouring Remus' mouth.
In an instant, the warmth of Remus' body was gone, and a strong hand wrapped itself around his wrist.
He looked closely at his friend. The aura still danced around him, but it wasn't as bright anymore. Harry blinked. There was a new, fresh cut over Remus' left eye that he hadn't noticed earlier, and two more on the back of the hand that was holding Harry in place – the results of not having the Wolfsbane for a month. Harry promised himself he'd never allow that to happen again.
He dipped his head to lick Remus' wounds, but the hand was jerked away.
"Harry, no," Remus ordered, but his tone was as apologetic as it was firm.
Harry tried to concentrate on clearing his thoughts, knowing that what Remus had to say was important, if the serious expression was anything to go by.
"I would give you anything, Harry, but it can't be that. We don't know what would happen if you took my blood, nothing's ever been documented, but considering the current state of werewolf-vampire relations, I would assume that..."
Harry nodded. "I understand. But then why aren't we... I don't hate the wolf inside of you, Remus – I think I'm drawn to it – to you."
Harry waited in partial embarrassment for Remus' answer, watching him closely, catching the movement of a swallow before he opened his mouth to speak again.
"I feel it as well," Remus confessed with a gesture at the space in between them. "I don't know why the aggression isn't surfacing, but for now, perhaps we shouldn't touch each other."
"You're right. I'm sorry."
Remus waved off the apology and gave him a weary smile.
"What did you give me?" Harry asked. "I feel – I have some control back."
"Fresh sheep's blood. It'll hold you for a few minutes. It was important we talked to you before..."
"Get on with it," Severus snapped. "Or do you want a repeat performance of a malnourished vampire?"
Harry let relief flow through him at the sound of his lover's voice. He dragged his tired eyes up the wall to Severus' portrait, reminding himself to hide the intimate smile that wanted to surface, but he took comfort from the eyes staring back at him with concern.
"Well said," Draco added.
Harry took Remus' offered hand once more, stood, and was suddenly ashamed of his behaviour at the cottage. Fragmented memories of the evening (and of what he'd nearly done to Draco) crashed in on him like summer insects on a windscreen.
"Draco, about before, I'm..." Harry faltered when Draco shifted his stance and gave him a tight smile.
"No harm done."
Remus gave Harry's hand a light squeeze to get his attention and then let go. "Draco's agreed to be your donor until we can find another solution."
Harry could only stare at him, open-mouthed. "Why would you want to – after what I almost did to you?"
Draco shifted his stance and started undoing the buttons at his collar and wrists.
"Payback, Potter. Gratitude - whatever you wish to call it. You saved my life the night the Dark Lord... Let's just say I owe you this, and whatever happens afterwards, as well."
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked as Draco's skin was slowly revealed.
The sexy smile Malfoy wore was almost obscene. "I thought you would have figured it out while you were worshiping my body earlier. You do know that vampires are sexual beings?" he asked, removing his shirt, discarding it onto the sofa.
The itch started up again, somewhere under the skin of Harry's palms. Why is nothing in my life ever normal? he asked himself, rolling his eyes at Malfoy.
"I, I know that, but before...when I – you didn't seem to like it." He swallowed as Draco's gaze swept over him.
"True. You're not exactly my type, and I'll admit to being caught off-guard earlier, but sex is sex, Potter, and the Ministry keeps me on an annoyingly short lead. We'd be helping each other out, trust me."
Harry could feel his senses locking down once more, and knew it wouldn't be long before the blood 'snack' wore off, and his dark nature took Draco up on both offers. He curled his hands into fists as his fangs responded to his intentions.
He looked over Draco's bare shoulder for some help from Severus. "How do I...drink without hurting him – what if I go too far?"
Severus and Remus answered at the same time: "Numb the area with a spell before you..." "That's why I'm here, Harry, but you won't..."
Harry unfurled one of his hands and used it to drag Remus up close beside him. "Draw your wand and stay right here. If I do anything to hurt him, hex me."
"Harry, it won't be like before, there's blood already in your system. It will be fine."
"You don't know that for sure. I can't balance myself, Remus. I don't know what I'm capable of. Promise me you'll be right here, wand ready, all right?"
Remus placed a calming hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'll be here."
Support from Remus' words and touch flowed through Harry and brought a brief smile to his lips. He was shaking again, hungry, and fighting back the urge to drain Malfoy, and yet the same force from Remus that called to Harry in the cottage was now connecting with something inside of him, grounding him.
It felt right – balanced.
Just to be on the safe side, Harry cast a mild numbing charm over Draco's entire body before closing the distance and spinning him around so Severus could keep a second set of eyes on the proceedings.
Draco settled back against Harry's chest, showing none of the fear or tension he had before. The vampire side had hoped for more of a fight, but the part that was still Harry was comforted slightly by Draco's submission.
"Even with numbing, I imagine this will hurt," Harry said regretfully. "It did when Sanguini bit me."
In response, Draco tilted his head back until it rested in the hollow between Harry's neck and shoulder, and then gave him a soft smile.
"Close your eyes," he whispered, reaching his arm up and behind them both until his fingers were tangled in Harry's hair.
Harry obeyed, letting his eyelids fall, and immediately became aware of Draco's heartbeat, recognised the music it made, and moaned as the tempo gradually raced ahead.
Draco tugged gently, and Harry let himself be led to the meal that was hiding underneath.
The first taste was overwhelming, a world away from the bitter substance he'd drained from Voldemort.
His grip tightened around Draco's body, drinking, licking, and humming with satisfaction at how right, how unspoiled the blood tasted. Alive – that was the word that kept resurfacing in his mind. Not bottled, bagged, or sanitised – this was the source, and Harry couldn't believe how long he had denied himself, not knowing how much he was missing.
Draco shifted slightly as his hand fell away from Harry's hair. At first, Harry thought he was trying to escape, but when the moving hips graduated to rocking, and the hand slid around and behind his backside, Harry was certain that Draco wasn't leaving.
There had been a sharp gasp of pain and surprise from him when Harry first broke the skin, but in the long minutes that followed, the sounds they made together fit more what someone would hear coming from a bedroom: humming, sucking, half-words and the light rustle of fabric.
Harry pulled back, and was startled to see Remus licking his lips.
Acting on impulse, he captured Remus' hand, rubbed it over Draco's wound, and then thrust the dripping fingers into his mouth. His tongue swirled around, sucking slowly, taking his time while his body swelled to the taste of Remus underneath Draco's blood.
Their eyes locked on each other, and Harry knew Remus was just as aroused as he was: he could sense it, even if the other sensations moving through him made him miss other obvious signs.
His libido wanted to play with Remus, but his thirst wasn't quite done with Draco just yet. Feeling an insistent tug to feed again, Harry reluctantly broke eye contact, and slipped the fingers from his mouth, guiding them into his own hair, wordlessly asking for the werewolf's participation. Remus groaned and pushed Harry's head back down to Draco's blood-covered shoulder.
After a few minutes, Severus mumbled something about closing the wound as Draco lost his grip on the firm arm wrapped around his chest, and slid a few inches toward the floor.
Harry cursed himself for not noticing Draco's weakness sooner, but with a few words, Draco was healed, cleaned, and led to the sofa. He mumbled sleepily in protest at the removal of contact, as one of his own hands came up to massage the bulge in his trousers.
Harry turned toward Remus, who was still pressed in close behind him, and without warning, Remus' strong hands suddenly clamped on either side of Harry's head.
Harry sighed with contentment as Remus surged forward and hungrily licked Draco's blood from his chin, lips, and mouth. The cleaning turned quickly to kissing, and Harry's fangs retracted, as if they knew Remus' blood was forbidden. His hands reached out to pull their lower bodies into contact.
When hardness that echoed his own pressed back, Harry hissed in pleasure. He was drunk on the intoxicating contrast of the limitless power and heartfelt tenderness pouring out of Remus, and he wanted so much more of both.
One of his hands slid forward over Remus' lower abdomen when a polite cough stopped him cold.
He opened his eyes and saw his lover staring back.
Severus.
Harry was dealing with enough at the moment to give his guilt too much attention, but nevertheless, his conscience scolded him for wanting to see, feel, and taste just what Remus was hiding under his thin robes – right in front of Severus - if his body got its way.
It took almost no time for Remus to collect himself and step back. Harry let out a growl of frustration that surprised almost everyone in the room, except Draco.
"Serves you right, if you're not gentleman enough to finish off your first date," Draco complained weakly from the sofa, his eyelids half-closed.
"I want the sex part now," Harry said bluntly, spinning back to face Remus. "With you," he added, wearing a hungry expression that had nothing to do with Remus' blood.
He took a step forward. Remus, however, had appeared to have lost his momentum.
"Harry, think about this for a moment. I'm the same age as your fath..."
Harry pointed at the portrait. "Severus is a few months older than you and dad, and he didn't..."
Remus shot a startled look over his shoulder at the painting behind him. "Severus?"
"I was born in January," he stated flatly.
"That's beside the point." He turned back to Harry. "Why didn't you tell... How long, Harry?"
"Five years," he answered. "But nothing started until August. I was already seventeen," he quickly added when he noticed Remus losing colour.
"Then why keep it a secret?" he asked quietly.
Snape gave a huff of disbelief. "Lupin, there was a war, if you recall."
Remus ignored him and fixed Harry with a strange accusing glare.
"I meant why didn't you tell me?" he countered, a growl hovering just under the surface.
Harry watched in fascination as the beast took over Remus' magical aura and snaked several tendrils of energy toward Harry in a possessive move. He sent a wave of his own magic out to meet it.
"I wanted to, but we couldn't take the chance until my Occlumency... It's easy to block out my enemies, but I couldn't always throw up enough barriers around my friends," he confessed, as the fight and arousal seemed to drain from him in concert. "I'm sorry, Remus."
Remus sank down next to Draco on the sofa, and Harry dropped to his knees, reaching out to touch the scarred hand.
"I wanted to tell you, but at first I thought you might try to pull us apart if you knew, and then later, it just was easier because, well, nobody knew."
"Except me. I knew the day Severus' wards shifted to include Potter," Draco muttered wearily.
Severus scoffed. "I could have changed them for several reasons."
"Then why did Potter only choose to activate them after midnight?" He rolled his head to face Harry. "You're just lucky that Severus and I were the only two paranoid enough to set up identifying sensors in the corridors," he added, chuckling when he'd finished.
Silence followed, and with it, Harry's waning ardour left him completely.
"Why don't we all talk about this tomorrow afternoon?" he offered. Draco nodded, but Remus seemed to be lost in thought, staring down at where his hand joined Harry's. "I'll tell you everything, and then we can decide on what happens next, all right?"
He couldn't help the smile that lit up his face when he felt Remus' squeeze of acceptance. They helped each other to their feet and then turned in unison to guide Draco toward the fire place.
Just before they activated the Floo, Harry gathered up some courage and quickly placed a kiss on each of their cheeks in gratitude.
"Thank you both, for everything."
Draco hummed sleepily into Remus' shoulder, and Remus, to Harry's surprise, returned his kiss, pressing it briefly to the corner of Harry's mouth.
"Tomorrow," Remus confirmed, leaving with a respectful nod to Severus, and a warm smile for Harry.
~*~
Severus walked to the front of his portrait as Harry strode into the room.
"You're looking much better today."
Harry smiled. "Thanks. Feel stronger. At least we know what the problem is now."
"Yes," Severus said, almost to himself, as a quill jumped to life on his desk and began scratching down something in an open ledger. "Did you all come to an agreement?"
Harry sat down, pulled off his boots, and stretched his toes towards the fire. "Draco's volunteered to be my donor until either he finds a steady relationship with someone else, or becomes too old or unhealthy."
Severus hummed over Harry's statement. "Quite an offer to make."
Harry chuckled. "He had conditions."
"Naturally," Severus countered with a proud, thin smile. "What were his terms?"
"He wants me to fund a training facility/research center to be built in his mother's name."
"For?"
Harry pulled a scrap of parchment out of his pocket and read from it. "For researching and testing possible cures for dark creature infections, and for developing antidotes to the existing poisons that currently have no counteragents."
"Quite long for a shingle," was Severus' dry response.
Harry laughed. "Yeah, we'll have to work on that, but the cause is good."
"Indeed." He walked to his desk and flipped open a thin silver book. "I wish to donate the contents of Vault six hundred forty to your endeavours. I trust you haven't spent it?"
Harry sat up straight. "No, I haven't touched any of it. Are you sure you..." he started, but stopped immediately when a stern gaze told him the answer. "That's – thank you. I'll tell Draco."
Severus took a seat in the velvet fireside chair on the far right of his portrait. "And Lupin?" he asked, without looking at Harry.
Harry was glad Severus wasn't watching him, but it didn't really matter. His emotions were always transparent.
"He asked me if I wanted to live with them – to try it out," Harry managed to say, lowering his eyes. "It would make the feedings easier, and..." he cut off the sentence, and found a new spot on the floor to stare at. "He wants to go for a walk tonight, to talk about it, but I haven't given him an answer yet."
"Gryffindors."
Harry shook off the playful taunt and stood. "I'm sorry for acting the way I did in front of you last night. It's too soon for me to be... I haven't even talked about it with you yet."
Severus met his serious gaze. "Nonsense. You deserve.."
Harry cut him off. "To find peace, be happy?"
He wanted to say more, but all he could manage was a sad smile as he fought the tightness that ambushed him every time he thought of the future he'd never have with Severus.
"Our chapter is over, Harry. You should allow yourself to write on a new page."
"Is that a fancy way of saying you're all right with this, Remus and me - whatever it turns out to be?" Harry asked, trying to lighten the mood, hoping his heart would follow.
"Don't think you'll be free of me. Draco has my other portrait in his room."
Harry thought he would have been more surprised, but instead, he pasted on his best smirk. "Slytherins," he teased, while Severus dipped his head as if he'd just been praised.
A thought struck Harry, and his eyes grew wide. "Wait. Did you set me up? You wanted me to... Draco was in on it too, wasn't he?"
Severus' expression revealed nothing. "You said Draco was unconscious when you found him at the Lestrange mansion, correct?"
"Yeah, but what does..."
"He'd been hit with Excaecatus and Stupefy. He'll be colour-blind until the curse wears off. Another month, at least."
Harry took a step back, and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Oh, so no brewing, then."
"If your formula is successful, you will have saved Lupin a great deal of pain. That was completely your doing."
Harry nodded slowly. "He shouldn't have to suffer." He fell quiet for a moment before raising an accusing glare in Severus' direction. "But all the books say we're supposed to be enemies. How did you know we wouldn't kill each other?"
Severus relaxed back against the chair. "We took a chance that your talent for breaking rules would also apply to the laws of nature."
"Quite a gamble," Harry said, under his breath.
"Worth the risk, wouldn't you agree?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow. When Harry just stared back, open-jawed, he continued. "Lupin and Draco acquire some company, you receive an instant, yet fittingly strange family, and I get some well earned peace and quiet."
Harry couldn't help himself. He laughed.
"Furthermore," Severus added, ignoring him, "I expect this portrait to be placed in your new facility, once it opens. A place of good height that will allow me to keep an eye on the incompetent apprentices."
"Done." Harry stepped close, brushing his fingers over the frame, suddenly feeling better than he had in months "Thank you, Severus."
Severus stood and walked to the front of the portrait, wearing a rare open expression that Harry found reassuring. "Time well spent. I have no regrets."
A sad smile formed as Harry struggled to hold back the tears Severus' words had brought to the surface.
He nodded once, accepting the answer.
They had never exchanged the 'I love yous' that most lovers throw around like confetti, although Harry would have, if he thought for one moment it was what Severus wanted to hear. But he found more comfort in the fact that Severus would choose him again, if given the chance, than if he heard the three words uttered every day of their five years together.
Harry walked slowly to the door, and opened it with suddenly unsteady fingers. Despite his lightened heart, his mind rushed to remind him of how much he stood to lose and who he would end up hurting – if the new plan failed.
He looked over his shoulder once more, noticing that Severus was still standing, watching him as he left.
"Is it stupid to be afraid?" he asked quietly.
"The fool is the one who never asks that question," Severus answered, turning toward the sitting area once more. "Now, go. Live."
Harry felt the ache again as he watched Severus turn away, but at the same time, he was filled with hope for what the future would bring. Whether Harry was making a mistake or not, Severus was right, it was his choice to make, whatever the outcome.
He stepped out of the room quietly, whispered his goodbyes to the closing door, and prepared himself for a long walk with Remus.
~*~